[BRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CAT [FORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE MODERN STUDENT'S LIBRARY 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 WILL D. HOWE 
 
 FBOHS80R Or ENGLISH AT INDIANA CNIVEBBITT 
 
 BOSWELL'S 
 LIFE OF JOHNSON
 
 THE MODERN 
 STUDENT'S LIBRARY 
 
 EACH VOLUME EDITED BY A LEADING 
 AMERICAN AUTHORITY 
 
 This series is composed of such works as 
 are conspicuous in the province of literature 
 for their enduring influence. Every volume 
 is recognized as essential to a liberal edu- 
 cation and will tend to infuse a love for true 
 literature and an appreciation of the quali- 
 ties which cause it to endure. 
 
 A descriptive list of the volumes published in 
 
 this series appears in the last pages 
 
 of this volume 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
 
 THE MODERN STUDENT'S LIBRARY 
 
 BOSWELL'S 
 LIFE OF JOHNSON 
 
 ABRIDGED AND EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES GROSVENOR OSGOOD 
 
 PBOFESSOB OP ENGLISH AT PRINCETON UNIVERSITY 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK CHICAGO BOSTON
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 B
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 35-35 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 In making this abridgment of Boswell's Life of Johnson I 
 have omitted most of Boswell's criticisms, comments, and 
 notes, all of Johnson's opinions in legal cases, most of the let- 
 ters, and parts of the conversation dealing with matters which 
 were of greater importance in Boswell's day than now. I 
 have kept in mind an old habit, common enough, I dare say, 
 among its devotees, of opening the book at random, and 
 reading wherever the eye falls upon a passage of especial 
 interest. All such passages, I hope, have been retained, 
 and enough of the whole book to illustrate all the phases 
 of Johnson's mind and of his time which Boswell observed. 
 
 Loyal Johnsonians may look upon such a book with a 
 measure of scorn. I could not have made it, had I not 
 believed that it would be the means of drawing new readers 
 to Boswell, and eventually of finding for them in the 
 complete work what many have already found days and 
 years of growing enlightenment and happy companionship, 
 and an innocent refuge from the cares and perturbations 
 of life. 
 
 PRINCETON, June 28, 1917. 
 
 1163048
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Phillips Brooks once told the boys at Exeter that in read- 
 ing biography three men meet one another in close intimacy 
 the subject of the biography, the author, and the reader. 
 Of the three the most interesting is, of course, the man about 
 whom the book is written. The most privileged is the reader, 
 who is thus allowed to live familiarly with an eminent man. 
 Least regarded of the three is the author. It is his part to 
 introduce the others, and to develop between them an ac- 
 quaintance, perhaps a friendship, while he, though ever 
 busy and solicitous, withdraws into the background. 
 
 Some think that Boswell, in his Life of Johnson, did not 
 sufficiently realize his duty of self-effacement. He is too 
 much in evidence, too bustling, too anxious that his own 
 opinion, though comparatively unimportant, should get a 
 hearing. In general, BossLellIs_aults are easily noticed, and 
 have been too much talked about. He was(jnorbid, restless, 
 self-conscious, vain, insinuating; and, poor fellow, he died 
 a drunkard. yBut the essential Boswell, the skilful and de- 
 voted artist, is almost unrecognized. As the creator of the 
 Life of Johnson he is almost as much effaced as is Homer 
 in the Odyssey. He is indeed so closely concealed that the 
 reader suspects no art at all. Boswell 's performance looks 
 easy enough merely the more or less coherent stringing to- 
 gether of a mass of memoranda. Nevertheless it was rare and 
 difficult, as is the highest achievement in art. rooswell Js 
 primarily the artist, and he has created one of the great mas- 
 terpieces of the world. 1 ^He created nothing else, though his 
 
 > Here I include his Journal of a Tour of the Hebrides as essentially a 
 part of the Life. The Journal of a Tour in Corsica is but a propaedeutic 
 study. 
 
 vii
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 head was continually filling itself with literary schemes that 
 came to nought. But into his Life of Johnson he poured 
 all his artistic energies, as Milton poured his into Paradise 
 Lost, and Vergil his into the JEneid. 
 
 First, Boswell had the industry and the devotion to his 
 task of an artist. ( Twenty years and more he labored in col- 
 lecting his material. ^ He speaks frankly of his methods. 
 He recorded the talk of Johnson and his associates partly 
 by a(rough shorthand of his own, partly by an exceptional 
 memory) which he carefully trained for this very purpose. 
 'O for shorthand to. take this down!' said he to Mrs. Thrale 
 as they listened to Johnson; and she replied: 'You'll carry 
 it all in your head; a long head is as good as shorthand.' 
 Miss Hannah More recalls a gay meeting at the Garricks', 
 in Johnson's absence, when Boswell was bold enough to 
 match his skill with no other than Garrick himself in an 
 imitation of Johnson. Though Garrick was more success- 
 ful in his Johnsonian recitation of poetry, Boswell won in 
 reproducing his familiar conversation. He lost no time in 
 perfecting his notes both mental and stenographic, and 
 sat up many a night followed by a day of headache, to write 
 them in final form, that none of the freshness and glow 
 might fade. The sheer labor of this process, not to mention 
 the difficulty, can be measured only by one who attempts 
 a similar feat. Let him try to report the best conversation 
 of a lively evening, following its course, preserving its point, 
 differentiating sharply the traits of the participants, keep- 
 ing the style, idiom, and exact words of each. Let him re- 
 ject all parts of it, however diverting, of which the charm 
 and force will evaporate with the occasion, and retain only 
 that which will be as amusing, significant, and lively as 
 ever at the end of one hundred, or, for all that we can see, 
 one thousand years. He will then, in some measure, realize 
 the difficulty of Boswell's performance. When his work 
 appeared Boswell himself said: 'The stretch of mind and
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 prompt assiduity by which so many conversations are pre- 
 served, I myself, at some distance of time, contemplate 
 with wonder.' 
 
 He was indefatigable in hunting up and consulting all 
 who had known parts or aspects of Johnson's life which 
 to him were inaccessible. (He mentions all told more than 
 fifty names of men and women whom he consulted for in- 
 formation, to which number many others should be added 
 of those who gave him nothing that he could use.^ ' I have 
 sometimes been obliged to run half over London, in order 
 to fix a date correctly.' He agonized over his work with 
 the true devotion of an artist: 'You cannot imagine,' he 
 says, 'what labor, what perplexity, what vexation I have 
 endured in arranging a prodigious multiplicity of materials, 
 in supplying omissions, in searching for papers buried in 
 different masses, and all this besides the exertion of compos- 
 ing and polishing.' He despairs of making his picture vivid 
 or full enough, and of ever realizing his preconception of 
 his masterpiece. 
 
 Boswell's devotion .to his work appears in even 
 Efraardinyj ftp* l*****^*m**tMv **** 
 self as a victim to illustrate his great friend's witi i^ 
 humor, \vixlom, affection, or goodnessA He never spares 
 
 ^^*Mi^MHBMM |MHMMVl *MMMHMMMHMfM*4*M* M * laM * l * l ^^ Bl ^ H '^^^^^ * 
 
 himself, except now and then to assume a somewhat diaph- 
 anous anonymity. Without regard for his u\vu dignity,, 
 he exhibits himself as humiliated, or drunken, or hypochon- 
 driac, or inquisitive, or resorting to petty subterfuge any- 
 thing for the accomplishment of his one rn^in purpose. 
 I' Nay, Sir,' said Johnson, 'it was not the wine that made 
 your head ache, but the sense that I put into it.O 'What, 
 Sir,' asks the hapless Boswell, 'will sense make the head 
 ache?' 'Yes, Sir, when it is not used to it.' 
 
 Boswell is also the artist in his regard for truth. In him 
 it was a passion. Again and again he insists upon his au- 
 thenticity. He developed an infallible gust and unerring
 
 x INTRODUCTION 
 
 relish of what was genuinely Johnsonian in speech, writing, 
 or action; and his own account leads to the inference that 
 he discarded, as worthless, masses of diverting material 
 which would have tempted a less scrupulous writer beyond 
 resistance. 'I observed to him/ said Boswell, 'that there 
 were very few of his friends so accurate as that I could 
 venture to put down in writing what they told me as his 
 sayings.' The faithfulness of his portrait, even to the mi- 
 nutest details, is his unremitting care, and he subjects all 
 contributed material to the sternest criticism. 
 
 (industry and love of truth alone will not make the artist. 
 With only these Boswell might have been merely a tireless 
 transcriber. ^ But he had besides afkeen sense of artistic 
 
 - r ' " V. 1 
 
 values. This appears partly in the unity of his vast work>^ 
 Though it was years in the making, though the details that 
 demanded his attention were countless, yet they 4.U centre 
 consistently in one figure,\,nd are so focused upon it, that 
 one can hardly open the book at random to a line which has 
 not its direct bearing upon the one subject of the work. 
 Nor is the unity of the book that of an undeviating narrative 
 in chronological order of one man's life; it grows rather 
 out of a single dominating personality exhibited in all the 
 vicissitudes of a manifold career. Boswell often speaks of 
 his work as a painting, a portrait,, and of single incidents 
 .as pictures or scenes in a drama. SHis eye is keen for con- 
 trasts, for picturesque moments, for dramatic action."^ While 
 it is always the same Johnson whom he makes the central 
 figure, he studies to shift the background, the interlocutors, 
 the light and shade, in search of new revelations and effects. 
 He presents a succession of many scenes, exquisitely wrought, 
 of Johnson amid widely various settings of Eighteenth- 
 Century England. And subject and setting are so closely 
 allied that each borrows charm and emphasis from the 
 other. Let the devoted reader of Boswell ask himself what 
 glamor would fade from the church of St. Clement Danes,
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 from the Mitre, from Fleet Street, the Oxford coach, and 
 Lichfield, if the burly figure were withdrawn from them; or 
 what charm and illumination of the man himself would have 
 been lost apart from these settings. It is the unseen hand 
 of the artist Boswell that has wrought them inseparably into 
 this reciprocal effect. 
 
 The single scenes and pictures which Boswell has given 
 us will all of them bear close scrutiny for their precision, 
 their economy of means, then- lifelikeness, their artistic 
 effect. None was wrought more beautifully, nor more ar- 
 dently, than that of Johnson's interview with the King. 
 First we see the plain massive figure of the scholar amid 
 the elegant comfort of Buckingham House. He is intent 
 on his book before the fire. Then the approach of the 
 King, lighted on his way by Mr. Barnard with candles 
 caught from a table; their entrance by a private door, with 
 Johnson's unconscious absorption, his sudden surprise, his 
 starting up, his dignity, the King's ease with him, their 
 conversation, in which the King courteously draws from 
 Johnson knowledge of that in which Johnson is expert, 
 Johnson's manly bearing and voice throughout all is set 
 forth with the unadorned vividness and permanent effect 
 which seem artless enough, but which are characteristic 
 of only the greatest art. 
 
 BosweU's Life of Johnson is further TnflgterpW/> nf a,rt in 
 that it exerts the vigorous energy of a masterpiece, an abun- 
 dance of what, for want of a bettec..w.Qid. we_call personality. 
 It is Boswell's confessed endeavor to add this quality to the 
 others, because he perceived that it was an essential quality 
 of Johnson himself, and he more than once laments his 
 inability to transmit the full force and vitality of his orig- 
 inal. Besides artistic perception and skill it required in 
 him admiration and enthusiasm to seize this characteristic 
 and impart it to his work. His admiration he confesses 
 unashamed: 'I said I worshipped him ... I cannot help
 
 xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 worshipping him, he is so much superior to other men/ 
 He studied his subject intensely. 'During all the course 
 of my long intimacy with him, my respectful attention 
 never abated.' Upon such intensity and such ardor and 
 enthusiasm depend the energy and animation of his por- 
 trait. 
 
 But it exhibits other personal qualities than these, which, 
 if less often remarked, are at any rate unconsciously en- 
 joyed. Boswell had great social charm. His friends are 
 agreed upon his liveliness and good nature. Johnson 
 called him 'clubbable,' 'the best traveling companion in 
 the world,' 'one Scotchman who is cheerful,' 'a man 
 whom everybody likes,' 'a man who I believe never left 
 a house without leaving a wish for his return.' His vi- 
 vacity, his love of fun, his passion for good company 
 and friendship, his sympathy, his amiability, which made 
 him acceptable everywhere, have mingled throughout with 
 his own handiwork, and cause it to radiate a kind of genial 
 warmth. This geniality it may be which has attracted so 
 many readers to the book. They find themselves in good 
 company, in a comfortable, pleasant place, agreeably stimu- 
 lated with wit and fun, and cheered with friendliness. They 
 are loth to leave it, and would ever enter it again. This 
 rare charm the book owes in large measure to its creator. 
 
 The alliance of author with subject in Boswell's Johnson 
 is one of the happiest and most sympathetic the world has 
 known. So close is it that one cannot easily discern what 
 great qualities the work owes to each. While it surely de- 
 rives more of its excellence than is commonly remarked from 
 the art of Boswell, its greatness after all is ultimately that 
 of its subject. The noble qualities of Johnson have been 
 well discerned by Carlyle, and his obvious peculiarities and 
 prejudices somewhat magnified and distorted in Macaulay's 
 brilliant refractions. One quality only shall I dwell upon,
 
 INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 though that may be the sum of all the rest. Johnson had 
 a supreme capacity for human relationship. In him this 
 capacity amounted to genius. 
 
 In all respects he was of great stature. His contempora- 
 ries called him a colossus, the literary Goliath, the Giant, the 
 great Cham of literature, a tremendous companion. (His 
 frame was majestic; he strode when he walked, and his 
 physical strength and courage were heroic. His mode of 
 speaking was 'very impressive/ his utterance 'deliberate 
 and strong.' His conversation was compared to 'an antique 
 statue, where every vein and muscle is distinct and bold.' 
 From boyhood throughout his life his companions naturally 
 deferred to him, and he dominated them without effort.) But 
 what overcame the harshness of this autocracy, and made 
 it reasonable, was the largeness of a nature that loved men 
 and was ever hungry for knowledge of them. 'Sir,' said 
 he, 'I look upon every day lost hi which I do not make a 
 new acquaintance.' And again: 'Why, Sir, I am a man of 
 the world. I live in the world, and I take, in some degree, 
 the color of the world as it moves along.' Thus he was a 
 part of all that he met, a central figure in his time, with 
 whose opinion one must reckon in considering any important 
 matter of his day. 
 
 (His love of London is but a part of his hunger for men. 
 'The happiness of London is not to be conceived but by 
 those who have been in it.' 'Why, Sir, you find no man 
 at all intellectual who is willing to leave London: No, Sir, 
 when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life;) for there 
 is in London all that life can afford.' As he loved London, 
 so he loved a tavern for its sociability. ' Sir, there is nothing 
 which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much 
 happiness is produced as by a good tavern.' 'A tavern 
 chair is the throne of human felicity.' 
 
 Personal words are often upon his lips, such as 'love' 
 and 'hate,' and vast is the number, range, and variety of
 
 xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 people who at one time or another had been in some degree 
 personally related with him, from Bet Flint and his black 
 servant Francis, to the adored Duchess of Devonshire and 
 the King himself. To no one who passed a word with him 
 was he personally indifferent. Even fools received his per- 
 sonal attention. Said one: 'But I don't understand you, 
 Sir.' ' Sir, I have found you an argument. I am not obliged 
 to find you an understanding.' 'Sir, you are irascible,' 
 said Boswell; 'you have no patience with folly or absurdity.' 
 /But it is in Johnson's capacity for friendship that his 
 greatness is specially revealed A 'Keep your friendships in 
 good repair.' As the old friends disappeared, new ones 
 came to him. /For Johnson seems never to have sought 
 out friends. He was not a common 'mixer.' He stooped 
 to no devices for the sake of popularity /N He pours only 
 scorn upon the lack of mind and conviction which is neces- 
 sary to him who is everybody's friend. 
 
 /His friendships included all classes and all ages. He was 
 a great favorite with children, and knew how to meet them,) 
 from little four-months-old Veronica Boswell to his god- 
 child Jane Langton. ' Sir,' said he, ' I love the acquaintance 
 of young people, . . . young men have more virtue than 
 old men; they have more generous sentiments in every 
 respect.' At sixty-eight he said: 'I value myself upon this, 
 that there is nothing of the old man in my conversation.' 
 Upon women of all classes and ages he exerts without trying 
 a charm the consciousness of which would have turned any 
 head less constant than his own, and with their fulsome 
 adoration he was pleased none the less for perceiving its 
 real value. 
 
 /But the most important of his friendships developed 
 between him and such men of genius as Boswell, David 
 Garrick, Oliver Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Edmund 
 Burke. Johnson's genius left no fit testimony of itself 
 from his own hand. With all the greatness of his mind he
 
 INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 had no talenl in sufficient measure by which fully to ex- 
 press himself. )^Ie had no ear for music and no eye for paints 
 ing, and the finest qualities in the creations of Goldsmith 
 were lost upon him. But his genius found its talents in 
 others, and through the talents of his personal friends ex- 
 pressed itself as it were by proxy. They rubbed their minds 
 upon his, and he set in motion for them ideas which they 
 might use.) But the intelligence of genius is profounder 
 and more personal than mere ideas. It has within it some- 
 thing energic, expansive, propulsive from mind to mind, 
 perennial, yet steady and controlled; and it was with such 
 force that Johnson's almost superhuman personality in- 
 spired the art of his friends. Of this they were in some de- 
 gree aware. Reynolds confessed that Johnson formed his 
 mind, and 'brushed from it a great deal of rubbish.' Gib- 
 bon called Johnson 'Reynolds' oracle.' In.one of his Dis- 
 courses Sir Joshua, mindful no doubt of his own experience, 
 recommends that young artists seek the companionship of 
 such a man merely as a tonic to their art. Boswell often 
 testifies to the stimulating effect of Johnson's presence. 
 Once he speaks of 'an animating blaze of eloquence, which 
 roused every intellectual power in me to the highest pitch'; 
 and again of the 'full glow' of Johnson's conversation, in 
 which he felt himself 'elevated as if brought into another 
 state of being.' He says that all members of Johnson's 
 'school' 'are distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy 
 which they would not have possessed in the same degree 
 if they had not been acquainted with Johnson.' He quotes 
 Johnson at length and repeatedly as the author of his own 
 large conception of biography. He was Goldsmith's 'great 
 master,' Garrick feared his criticism, and one cannot but 
 recognize the power of Johnson's personality in the in- 
 creasing intelligence and consistency of Garrick's interpre- 
 tations, in the growing vigor and firmness of Goldsmith's 
 stroke, in the charm, finality, and exuberant life of Sir
 
 xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 Joshua's portraits; and above all in the skill, truth, bril- 
 liance, and life-like spontaneity of Boswell's art. It is in 
 such works as these that we shall find the real Johnson, 
 and through them that he will exert the force of his per- 
 sonality upon us. 
 
 Biography is the literature of realized personality, of life 
 as it has been lived, of actual achievements or shortcomings, 
 of success or failure; it is not imaginary and embellished, not 
 what might be or might have been, not reduced to prescribed 
 or artificial forms, but it is the unvarnished story of that 
 which was delightful, disappointing, possible, or impossible, 
 in a life spent in this world. 
 
 In this sense it is peculiarly the literature of truth and 
 authenticity. Elements of imagination and speculation must 
 enter into all other forms of literature, and as purely creative 
 forms they may rank superior to biography; but in each case 
 it will be found that their authenticity, their right to our at- 
 tention and credence, ultimately rests upon the biographical 
 element which is basic in them, that is, upon what they have 
 derived by observation and experience from a human life 
 seriously lived. Biography contains this element in its 
 purity. For this reason it is more authentic than other 
 kinds of literature, and more relevant. The thing that 
 most concerns me, the individual, whether I will or no, is 
 the management of myself in this world. The fundamental 
 and essential conditions of life are the same in any age, 
 however the adventitious circumstances may change. The 
 beginning and the end are the same, the average length the 
 same, the problems and the prize the same. How, then, 
 have others managed, both those who failed and those who 
 succeeded, or those, in far greatest number, who did both? 
 Let me know their ambitions, their odds, their handicaps, 
 obstacles, weaknesses, and struggles, how they finally fared, 
 and what they had to say about it. Let me know a great
 
 INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 variety of such instances that I may mark their disagree- 
 ments, but more especially their agreement about it. How 
 did they play the game? How did they fight the fight that 
 I am to fight, and how in any case did they lose or win? 
 To these questions biography gives the direct answer. Such 
 is its importance over other literature. For such reasons, 
 doubtless, Johnson 'loved' it most. For such reasons the 
 book which has been most cherished and revered for well- 
 nigh two thousand years is a biography. 
 
 Biography, then, is the chief text-book in the art of living, 
 and pre-eminent in its kind is the Life of Johnson. Here is 
 the instance of a man who was born into a life stripped of 
 all ornament and artificiality. His equipment in mind and 
 stature was Olympian, but the odds against him were pro- 
 portionate to his powers. Without fear or complaint, without 
 boast or noise, he fairly joined issue with the world and 
 overcame it. He scorned circumstance, and laid bare the 
 unvarying realities of the contest. He was ever the sworn 
 enemy of speciousness, of nonsense, of idle and insincere 
 speculation, of the mind that does not take seriously the 
 duty of making itself up, of neglect in the gravest con- 
 sideration of life. He insisted upon the rights and dignity 
 of the individual man, and at the same time upon the vital 
 necessity to him of reverence and submission, and no man 
 ever more beautifully illustrated their interdependence, and 
 their exquisite combination in a noble nature. 
 C Boswell's Johnson is consistently and primarily the life 
 of one man. Incidentally it is more, for through it one is 
 carried from his own present limitations into a spacious 
 and genial world. ) The reader there meets a vast number of 
 people, men, women, children, nay even animals, from George 
 the Third down to the cat Hodge. By the author's magic 
 each is alive, and the reader mingles with them as with 
 his acquaintances. (It is a varied world, and includes the 
 smoky and swarming courts and highways of London, its
 
 xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 stately drawing-rooms, its cheerful inns, its shops and 
 markets, and beyond is the highroad which we travel in 
 lumbering coach or speeding postchaise to venerable Ox- 
 ford with its polite and leisurely dons, or to the staunch 
 little cathedral city of Lichfield, welcoming back its famous 
 son to dinner and tea, or to the seat of a country squire, 
 or ducal castle, or village tavern, or the grim but hospitable 
 feudal life of the Hebrides. )A.nd wherever we go with John- 
 son there is the lively traffic in ideas, lending vitality and 
 significance to everything about him. 
 
 A part of education and culture is the extension of one's 
 narrow range of living to include wider possibilities or actu- 
 alities, such as may be gathered from other fields of thought, 
 other times, other men; in short, to use a Johnsonian phrase, 
 it is 'multiplicity of consciousness.' There is no book more 
 effective through long familiarity to such extension and 
 such multiplication than Boswell's Life of Johnson. It adds 
 a new world to one's own, it increases one's acquaintance 
 among people who think, it gives intimate companionship 
 with a great and friendly man. 
 
 The Life of Johnson is not a book on first acquaintance to 
 be read through from the first page to the end. ' No, Sir, do 
 you read books through ? ' asked Johnson. His way is prob- 
 ably the best one of undertaking this book. Open at random, 
 read here and there, forward and back, wholly according 
 to inclination; follow the practice of Johnson and all good 
 readers, of 'tearing the heart' out of it. In this way you 
 most readily come within the reach of its charm and power. 
 Then, not content with a part, seek the unabridged whole, 
 and grow into the infinite possibilities of it. 
 
 But the supreme end of education, we are told, is expert 
 discernment in all things the power to tell the good from 
 the bad, the genuine from the counterfeit, and to prefer 
 the good and the genuine to the bad and the counterfeit. 
 This is the supreme end of the talk of Socrates, and it is
 
 INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 the supreme end of the talk of Johnson. 'My dear friend,' 
 said he, 'clear your mind of cant; . . . don't think foolishly.' 
 The effect of long companionship with Boswell's Johnson 
 is just this. As Sir Joshua said, 'it brushes away the rub- 
 bish'; it clears the mind of cant; it instills the habit of 
 singling out the essential thing; it imparts discernment. 
 Thus, through his friendship with Boswell, Johnson will 
 realize his wish, still to be teaching as the years increase.
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. , 
 
 Had Dr. Johnson written his own life, in conformity with 
 the opinion which he has given, that every man's life may 
 be best written by himself; had he employed in the preser- 
 vation of his own history, that clearness of narration and 
 elegance of language in which he has embalmed so many 
 eminent persons, the world would probably have had the 
 most perfect example of biography that was ever exhibited. 
 But although he at different times, in a desultory manner, 
 committed to writing many particulars of the progress of 
 his mind and fortunes, he never had persevering diligence 
 enough to form them into a regular composition. Of these 
 memorials a few have been preserved; but the greater part 
 was consigned by him to the flames, a few days before his 
 death. 
 
 As I had the honour and happiness of enjoying his friend- 
 ship for upwards of twenty years; as I had the scheme of 
 writing his life constantly in view; as he was well apprised 
 of this circumstance, and from time to time obligingly satis- 
 fied my inquiries, by communicating to me the incidents of 
 his early years; as I acquired a facility in recollecting, and 
 was very assiduous in recording, his conversation, of which 
 the extraordinary vigour and vivacity constituted one of 
 the first features of his character; and as I have spared no 
 pains in obtaining materials concerning him, from every 
 quarter where I could discover that they were to be found, 
 and have been favoured with the most liberal communica- 
 tions by his friends; I flatter myself that few biographers 
 have entered upon such a work as this, with more advan- 
 tages; independent of literary abilities, in which I am not 
 
 1
 
 2 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 vain enough to compare myself with some great names who 
 have gone before me in this kind of writing. 
 
 Instead of melting down my materials into one mass, and 
 constantly speaking in my own person, by which I might 
 have appeared to have more merit in the execution of the 
 work, I have resolved to adopt and enlarge upon the excellent 
 plan of Mr. Mason, in his Memoirs of Gray. Wherever 
 narrative is necessary to explain, connect, and supply, I 
 furnish it to the best of my abilities; but in the chronologi- 
 cal series of Johnson's life, which I trace as distinctly as I 
 can, year by year, I produce, wherever it is in my power, 
 his own minutes, letters or conversation, being convinced 
 that this mode is more lively, and will make my readers 
 better acquainted with him, than even most of those were 
 who actually knew him, but could know him only partially; 
 whereas there is here an accumulation of intelligence from 
 various points, by which his character is more fully under- 
 stood and illustrated. 
 
 Indeed I cannot conceive a more perfect mode of writing 
 any man's life, than not only relating all the most impor- 
 tant events of it in their order, but interweaving what he 
 privately wrote, and said, and thought; by which mankind 
 are enabled as it were to see him live, and to 'live o'er each 
 scene ' with him, as he actually advanced through the several 
 stages of his life. Had his other friends been as diligent 
 and ardent as I was, he might have been almost entirely 
 preserved. As it is, I will venture to say that he will be 
 seen in this work more completely than any man who has 
 ever yet lived. 
 
 And he will be seen as he really was; for I profess to 
 write, not his panegyrick, which must be all praise, but his 
 Life; which, great and good as he was, must not be sup- 
 posed to be entirely perfect. To be as he was, is indeed 
 subject of panegyrick enough to any man in this state of 
 being; but in every picture there should be shade as well 
 as light, and when I delineate him without reserve, I do 
 what he himself recommended, both by his precept and his 
 example. 
 
 I am fully aware of the objections which may be made to
 
 1709] JOHNSON'S BIRTH AND BAPTISM 3 
 
 the minuteness on some occasions of my detail of Johnson's 
 conversation, and how happily it is adapted for the petty 
 exercise of ridicule, by men of superficial understanding and 
 ludicrous fancy; but I remain firm and confident in my 
 opinion, that minute particulars are frequently character- 
 istick, and always amusing, when they relate to a distin- 
 guished man. I am therefore exceedingly unwilling that any 
 thing, however slight, which my illustrious friend thought it 
 worth his while to express, with any degree of point, should 
 perish. 
 
 Of one thing I am certain, that considering how highly 
 the small portion which we have of the table-talk and other 
 anecdotes of our celebrated writers is valued, and how ear- 
 nestly it is regretted that we have not more, I am justified in 
 preserving rather too many of Johnson's sayings, than too 
 few ; especially as from the diversity of dispositions it cannot 
 be known with certainty beforehand, whether what may 
 seem trifling to some, and perhaps to the collector himself, 
 may not be most agreeable to many; and the greater number 
 that an authour can please in any degree, the more pleasure 
 does there arise to a benevolent mind. 
 
 SAMUEL JOHNSON was born at Lichfield, in Staffordshire, 
 on the 18th of September, N.S., 1709; and his initiation 
 into the Christian Church was not delayed; for his baptism 
 is recorded, in the register of St. Mary's parish in that city, 
 to have been performed on the day of his birth. His father 
 is there stiled Gentleman, a circumstance of which an igno- 
 rant panegyrist has praised him for not being proud; when 
 the truth is, that the appellation of Gentleman, though now 
 lost in the indiscriminate assumption of Esquire, was com- 
 monly taken by those who could not boast of gentility. 
 His father was Michael Johnson, a native of Derbyshire, of 
 obscure extraction, who settled in Lichfield as a bookseller 
 and stationer. His mother was Sarah Ford, descended of 
 an ancient race of substantial yeomanry in Warwickshire. 
 They were well advanced in years when they married, and 
 never had more than two children, both sons; Samuel, their 
 first born, who lived to be the illustrious character whose
 
 4 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1709- 
 
 various excellence I am to endeavour to record, and Na- 
 thanael, who died in his twenty-fifth year. 
 
 Mr. Michael Johnson was a man of a large and robust 
 body, and of a strong and active mind; yet, as in the most 
 solid rocks veins of unsound substance are often discovered, 
 there was in him a mixture of that disease, the nature of 
 which eludes the most minute enquiry, though the effects 
 are well known to be a weariness of life, an unconcern about 
 those things which agitate the greater part of mankind, and 
 a general sensation of gloomy wretchedness. From him then 
 his son inherited, with some other qualities, 'a vile melan- 
 choly,' which in his too strong expression of any disturbance 
 of the mind, 'made him mad all his life, at least not sober.' 
 Michael was, however, forced by the narrowness of his cir- 
 cumstances to be very diligent in business, not only in his 
 shop, but by occasionally resorting to several towns in the 
 neighbourhood, some of which were at a considerable dis- 
 tance from Lichfield. At that time booksellers' shops in the 
 provincial towns of England were very rare, so that there 
 was not one even in Birmingham, in which town old Mr. 
 Johnson used to open a shop every market-day. He was a 
 pretty good Latin scholar, and a citizen so creditable as to 
 be made one of the magistrates of Lichfield; and, being a 
 man of good sense, and skill in his trade, he acquired a 
 reasonable share of wealth, of which however he afterwards 
 lost the greatest part, by engaging unsuccessfully in a manu- 
 facture of parchment. He was a zealous high-church man 
 and royalist, and retained his attachment to the unfortunate 
 house of Stuart, though he reconciled himself, by casuistical 
 arguments of expediency and necessity, to take the oaths 
 imposed by the prevailing power. 
 
 Johnson's mother was a woman of distinguished under- 
 standing. I asked his old school-fellow, Mr. Hector, surgeon 
 of Birmingham, if she was not vain of her son. He said, 
 'she had too much good sense to be vain, but she knew her 
 son's value.' Her piety was not inferiour to her under- 
 standing; and to her must be ascribed those early impres- 
 sions of religion upon the mind of her son, from which the 
 world afterwards derived so much benefit. He told me, that
 
 1709] ANECDOTES 5 
 
 he remembered distinctly having had the first notice of 
 Heaven, 'a place to which good people went,' and hell, 'a 
 place to which bad people went,' communicated to him by 
 her, when a little child in bed with her; and that it might be 
 the better fixed in his memory, she sent him to repeat it to 
 Thomas Jackson, their man-servant; he not being in the 
 way, this was not done; but there was no occasion for any 
 artificial aid for its preservation. 
 
 There is a traditional story of the infant Hercules of 
 toryism, so curiously characteristick, that I shall not with- 
 hold it. It was communicated to me in a letter from Miss 
 Mary Adye, of Lichfield : 
 
 'When Dr. Sacheverel was at Lichfield, Johnson was not 
 quite three years old. My grandfather Hammond observed 
 him at the cathedral perched upon his father's shoulders, 
 listening and gaping at the much celebrated preacher. Mr. 
 Hammond asked Mr. Johnson how he could possibly think 
 of bringing such an infant to church, and in the midst of 
 so great a crowd. He answered, because it was impossible 
 to keep him at home; for, young as he was, he believed he 
 had caught the publick spirit and zeal for Sacheverel, and 
 would have staid for ever in the church, satisfied with be- 
 holding him.' 
 
 Nor can I omit a little instance of that jealous indepen- 
 dence of spirit, and impetuosity of temper, which never for- 
 sook him. The fact was acknowledged to me by himself, 
 upon the authority of his mother. One day, when the ser- 
 vant who used to be seilt to school to conduct him home, 
 had not come in time, he set out by himself, though he was 
 then so near-sighted, that he was obliged to stoop down on 
 his hands and knees to take a view of the kennel before he 
 ventured to step over it. His school-mistress, afraid that 
 he might miss his way, or fall into the kennel, or be run over 
 by a cart, followed him at some distance. He happened to 
 turn about and perceive her. Feeling her careful attention 
 as an insult to his manliness, he ran back to her in a rage, 
 and beat her, as well as his strength would permit. 
 
 Of the power of his memory, for which he was all his life 
 eminent to a degree almost incredible, the following early
 
 6 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1712 
 
 instance was told me in his presence at Lichfield, in 1776, by 
 his step-daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter, as related to her by his 
 mother. When he was a child in petticoats, and had learnt 
 to read, Mrs. Johnson one morning put the common prayer- 
 book into his hands, pointed to the collect for the day, and 
 said, 'Sam, you must get this by heart.' She went up 
 stairs, leaving him to study it: But by the time she had 
 reached the second floor, she heard him following her. 
 'What's the matter?' said she. 'I can say it,' he replied; 
 and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it 
 more than twice. 
 
 But there has been another story of his infant precocity 
 generally circulated, and generally believed, the truth of 
 which I am to refute upon his own authority. It is told, 
 that, when a child of three years old, he chanced to tread 
 upon a duckling, the eleventh of a brood, and killed it; 
 upon which, it is said, he dictated to his mother the follow- 
 ing epitaph: 
 
 'Here lies good master duck, 
 
 Whom Samuel Johnson trod on; 
 
 If it had liv'd, it had been good luck, 
 
 For then we'd had an odd one.' 
 
 There is surely internal evidence that this little composition 
 combines in it, what no child of three years old could pro- 
 duce, without an extension of its faculties by immediate 
 inspiration; yet Mrs. Lucy Porter, Dr. Johnson's step- 
 daughter, positively maintained to' me, in his presence, that 
 there could be no doubt of the truth of this anecdote, for 
 she had heard it from his mother. So difficult is it to ob- 
 tain an authentick relation of facts, and such authority 
 may there be for errour; for he assured me, that his father 
 made the verses, and wished to pass them for his child's. 
 He added, 'my father was a foolish old man; that is to say, 
 foolish in talking of his children.' 
 
 Young Johnson had the misfortune to be much afflicted 
 with the scrophula, or king's evil, which disfigured a coun- 
 tenance naturally well formed, and hurt his visual nerves 
 so much, that he did not see at all with one of his eyes,
 
 1712] HIS EYESIGHT 7 
 
 though its appearance was little different from that of the 
 other. There is amongst his prayers, one inscribed 'When 
 my EYE was restored to its use,' which ascertains a defect 
 that many of his friends knew he had, though I never per- 
 ceived it. I supposed him to be only near-sighted; and 
 indeed I must observe, that in no other respect could I dis- 
 cern any defect in his vision; on the contrary, the force of 
 his attention and perceptive quickness made him see and dis- 
 tinguish all manner of objects, whether of nature or of art, 
 with a nicety that is rarely to be found. When he and I were 
 travelling in the Highlands of Scotland, and I pointed out 
 to him a mountain which I observed resembled a cone, he 
 corrected my inaccuracy, by shewing me, that it was indeed 
 pointed at the top, but that one side of it was larger than, 
 the other. And the ladies with whom he was acquainted 
 agree, that no man was more nicely and minutely critical in 
 the elegance of female dress. When I found that he saw 
 the romantick beauties of Islam, in Derbyshire, much better 
 than I did, I told him that he resembled an able performer 
 upon a bad instrument. It has been said, that he con- 
 tracted this grievous malady from his nurse. His mother 
 yielding to the superstitious notion, which, it is wonderful 
 to think, prevailed so long in this country, as to the virtue 
 of the regal touch; a notion, which our kings encouraged, 
 and to which a man of such inquiry and such judgement as 
 Carte could give credit; carried him to London, where he 
 was actually touched by Queen Anne. Mrs. Johnson indeed, 
 as Mr. Hector informed me, acted by the advice of the cele- 
 brated Sir John Floyer, then a physician in Lichfield. John- 
 son used to talk of this very frankly; and Mrs. Piozzi has 
 preserved his very picturesque description of the scene, as it 
 remained upon his fancy. Being asked if he could remem- 
 ber Queen Anne, 'He had (he said) a confused, but some- 
 how a sort of solemn recollection of a lady in diamonds, and 
 a long black hood.' This touch, however, was without any 
 effect. I ventured to say to him, in allusion to the political 
 principles in which he was educated, and of which he ever 
 retained some odour, that 'his mother had not carried him 
 far enough; she should have taken him to ROME.'
 
 8 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON in a 
 
 He was first taught to read English by Dame Oliver, a 
 widow, who kept a school for young children in Lichfield. 
 He told me she could read the black letter, and asked him 
 to borrow for her, from his father, a bible in that character. 
 When he was going to Oxford, she came to take leave of him, 
 brought him, in the simplicity of her kindness, a present of 
 gingerbread, and said, he was the best scholar she ever had. 
 He delighted in mentioning this early compliment: adding, 
 with a smile, that 'this was as high a proof of his merit as 
 he could conceive.' His next instructor in English was a 
 master, whom, when he spoke of him to me, he familiarly 
 called Tom Brown, who, said he, 'published a spelling-book, 
 and dedicated it to the UNIVERSE; but, I fear, no copy of 
 it can now be had.' 
 
 He began to learn Latin with Mr. Hawkins, usher, or 
 under-master of Lichfield school, 'a man (said he) very 
 skilful in his little way.' With him he continued two years, 
 and then rose to be under the care of Mr. Hunter, the head- 
 master, who, according to his account, 'was very severe, 
 and wrong-headedly severe. He used (said he) to beat us 
 unmercifully; and he did not distinguish between ignorance 
 and negligence; for he would beat a boy equally for not 
 knowing a thing, as for neglecting to know it. He would 
 ask a boy a question; and if he did not answer it, he would 
 beat him, without considering whether he had an opportunity 
 of knowing how to answer it. For instance, he would call 
 up a boy and ask him Latin for a candlestick, which the boy 
 could not expect to be asked. Now, Sir, if a boy could answer 
 every question, there would be no need of a master to teach 
 him.' 
 
 It is, however, but justice to the memory of Mr. Hunter 
 to mention, that though he might err in being too severe, 
 the school of Lichfield was very respectable in his time. 
 The late Dr. Taylor, Prebendary of Westminster, who was 
 educated under him, told me, that 'he was an excellent 
 master, and that his ushers were most of them men of emi- 
 nence; that Holbrook, one of the most ingenious men, best 
 scholars, and best preachers of his age, was usher during the 
 greatest part of the time that Johnson was at school. Then
 
 1712] JOHNSON A KING OF MEN 9 
 
 came Hague, of whom as much might be said, with the 
 addition that he was an elegant poet. Hague was succeeded 
 by Green, afterwards Bishop of Lincoln, whose character 
 in the learned world is well known.' 
 
 Indeed Johnson was very sensible how much he owed to 
 Mr. Hunter. Mr. Langton one day asked him how he had 
 acquired so accurate a knowledge of Latin, in which, I be- 
 lieve, he was exceeded by no man of his time; he said, 'My 
 master whipt me very well. Without that, Sir, I should 
 have done nothing.' He told Mr. Langton, that while 
 Hunter was flogging his boys unmercifully, he used to say, 
 'And this I do to save you from the gallows.' Johnson, 
 upon all occasions, expressed his approbation of enforcing 
 instruction by means of the rod. 'I would rather (said he) 
 have the rod to be the general terrour to all, to make them 
 learn, than tell a child, if you do thus, or thus, you will be 
 more esteemed than your brothers or sisters. The rod pro- 
 duces an effect which terminates in itself. A child is afraid 
 of being whipped, and gets his task, and there's an end on't; 
 whereas, by exciting emulation and comparisons of superior- 
 ity, you lay the foundation of lasting mischief; you make 
 brothers and sisters hate each other.' 
 
 That superiority over his fellows, which he maintained 
 with so much dignity in his march through life, was not 
 assumed from vanity and ostentation, but was the natural 
 and constant effect of those extraordinary powers of mind, 
 of which he could not but be conscious by comparison; the 
 intellectual difference, which in other cases of comparison 
 of characters, is often a matter of undecided contest, being 
 as clear in his case as the superiority of stature in some men 
 above others. Johnson did not strut or stand on tiptoe; 
 He only did not stoop. From his earliest years his superior- 
 ity was perceived and acknowledged. He was from the be- 
 ginning "Ava$ ivSpwv, a king of men. His school-fellow, Mr. 
 Hector, has obligingly furnished me with many particulars 
 of his boyish days: and assured me that he never knew him 
 corrected at school, but for talking and diverting other boys 
 from their business. He seemed to learn by intuition; for 
 though indolence and procrastination were inherent in his
 
 10 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1712 
 
 constitution, whenever he made an exertion he did more 
 than any one else. His favourites used to receive very lib- 
 eral assistance from him; and such was the submission and 
 deference with which he was treated, such the desire to ob- 
 tain his regard, that three of the boys, of whom Mr. Hector 
 was sometimes one, used to come in the morning as his 
 humble attendants, and carry him to school. One in the 
 middle stooped, while he sat upon his back, and one on 
 each side supported him; and thus he was borne triumphant. 
 Such a proof of the early predominance of intellectual vig- 
 our is very remarkable, and does honour to human nature. 
 Talking to me once himself of his being much distinguished 
 at school, he told me, 'they never thought to raise me by 
 comparing me to any one; they never said, Johnson is as 
 good a scholar as such a one; but such a one is as good a 
 scholar as Johnson; and this was said but of one, but of Lowe; 
 and I do not think he was as good a scholar.' 
 
 He discovered a great ambition to excel, which roused 
 him to counteract his indolence. He was uncommonly in- 
 quisitive; and his memory was so tenacious, that he never 
 forgot any thing that he either heard or read. -Mr. Hector 
 remembers having recited to him eighteen verses, which, 
 after a little pause, he repeated verbatim, varying only one 
 epithet, by which he improved the line. 
 
 He never joined with the other boys in their ordinary 
 diversions: his only amusement was in winter, when he 
 took a pleasure in being drawn upon the ice by a boy bare- 
 footed, who pulled him along by a garter fixed round him; 
 no very easy operation, as his size was remarkably large. 
 His defective sight, indeed, prevented him from enjoying 
 the common sports; and he once pleasantly remarked to 
 me, 'how wonderfully well he had contrived to be idle 
 without them.' Mr. Hector relates, that 'he could not 
 oblige him more than by sauntering away the hours of 
 vacation in the fields, during which he was more engaged 
 in talking to himself than to his companion.' 
 
 Dr. Percy, the Bishop of Dromore, who was long inti- 
 mately acquainted with him, and has preserved a few anec- 
 dotes concerning him, regretting that he was not a more
 
 1725] STOURBRIDGE SCHOOL 11 
 
 diligent collector, informs me, that 'when a boy he was 
 immoderately fond of reading romances of chivalry, and he 
 retained his fondness for them through life; so that (adds 
 his Lordship) spending part of a summer at my parsonage- 
 house in the country, he chose for his regular reading the 
 old Spanish romance of Felixmarte of Hircania, in folio, 
 which he read quite through. Yet I have heard him attri- 
 bute to these extravagant fictions that unsettled turn of 
 mind which prevented his ever fixing in any profession.' 
 
 1725 : JETAT. 16. AFTER having resided for some time 
 at the house of his uncle, Cornelius Ford, Johnson was, at 
 the age of fifteen, removed to the school of Stourbridge, in 
 Worcestershire, of which Mr. Wentworth was then master. 
 This step was taken by the advice of his cousin, the Rever- 
 end Mr. Ford, a man in whom both talents and good dis- 
 positions were disgraced by licentiousness, but who was a 
 very able judge of what was right. At this school he did 
 not receive so much benefit as was expected. It has been 
 said, that he acted in the capacity of an assistant to Mr. 
 Wentworth, in teaching the younger boys. 'Mr. Went- 
 worth (he told me) was a very able man, but an idle man, 
 and to me very severe; but I cannot blame him much. I 
 was then a big boy; he saw I did not reverence him; and 
 that he should get no honour by me. I had brought enough 
 with me, to carry me through; and all I should get at his 
 school would be ascribed to my own labour, or to my former 
 master. Yet he taught me a great deal.' 
 
 He thus discriminated, to Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, 
 his progress at his two grammar-schools. 'At one, I learnt 
 much in the school, but little from the master; in the other, 
 I learnt much from the master, but little in the school.' 
 
 He remained at Stourbridge little more than a year, and 
 then returned home, where he may be said to have loitered, 
 for two years, in a state very unworthy his uncommon 
 abilities. He had already given several proofs of his poetical 
 genius, both in his school-exercises and in other occasional 
 compositions. 
 
 He had no settled plan of life, nor looked forward at all,
 
 12 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 but merely lived from day to day. Yet he re*ad a great 
 deal in a desultory manner, without any scheme of study, 
 as chance threw books in his way, and inclination directed 
 him through them. He used to mention one curious in- 
 stance of his casual reading, when but a boy. Having 
 imagined that his brother had hid some apples behind a 
 large folio upon an upper shelf in his father's shop, he climbed 
 up to search for them. There were no apples; but the large 
 folio proved to be Petrarch, whom he had seen mentioned 
 in some preface, as one of the restorers of learning. His 
 curiosity having been thus excited, he sat down with avid- 
 ity, and read a great part of the book. What he read dur- 
 ing these two years he told me, was not works of mere amuse- 
 ment, 'not voyages and travels, but all literature, Sir, all 
 ancient writers, all manly: though but little Greek, only 
 some of Anacreon and Hesiod; but in this irregular manner 
 (added he) I had looked into a great many books, which were 
 not commonly known at the Universities, where they sel- 
 dom read any books but what are put into their hands by 
 then* tutors; so that when I came to Oxford, Dr. Adams, 
 now master of Pembroke College, told me I was the best 
 qualified for the University that he had ever known come 
 there.' 
 
 That a man in Mr. Michael Johnson's circumstances 
 should think of sending his son to the expensive University 
 of Oxford, at his own charge, seems very improbable. The 
 subject was too delicate to question Johnson upon. But 
 I have been assured by Dr. Taylor that the scheme never 
 would have taken place had not a gentleman of Shropshire, 
 one of his schoolfellows, spontaneously undertaken to sup- 
 port him at Oxford, in the character of his companion; 
 though, in fact, he never received any assistance whatever 
 from that gentleman. 
 
 He, however, went to Oxford, and was entered a Com- 
 moner of Pembroke College on the 31st of October, 1728, 
 being then in his nineteenth year. 
 
 The Reverend Dr. Adams, who afterwards presided over 
 Pembroke College with universal esteem, told me he was 
 present, and gave me some account of what passed on the
 
 1728] JOHNSON ENTERS OXFORD 13 
 
 night of Johnson's arrival at Oxford. On that evening, his 
 father, who had anxiously accompanied him, found means 
 to have him introduced to Mr. Jorden, who was to be his 
 tutor. 
 
 His father seemed very full of the merits of his son, and 
 told the company he was a good scholar, and a poet, and 
 wrote Latin verses. His figure and manner appeared 
 strange to them; but he behaved modestly, and sat silent, 
 till upon something which occurred in the course of con- 
 versation, he suddenly struck in and quoted Macrobius; 
 and thus he gave the first impression of that more extensive 
 reading in which he had indulged himself. 
 
 His tutor, Mr. Jorden, fellow of Pembroke, was not, it 
 seems, a man of such abilities as we should conceive requisite 
 for the instructor of Samuel Johnson, who gave me the fol- 
 lowing account of him. 'He was a very worthy man, but 
 a heavy man, and I did not profit much by his instructions. 
 Indeed, I did not attend him much. The first day after I 
 came to college I waited upon him, and then staid away 
 four. On the sixth, Mr. Jorden asked me why I had not 
 attended. I answered I had been sliding in Christ-Church 
 meadow. And this I said with as much nonchalance as I 
 am now talking to you. I had no notion that I was wrong 
 or irreverent to my tutor. BOSWELL: 'That, Sir, was great 
 fortitude of mind.' JOHNSON: 'No, Sir; stark insensibility.' 
 
 He had a love and respect for Jorden, not for his litera- 
 ture, but for his worth. 'Whenever (said he) a young man 
 becomes Jorden 's pupil, he becomes his son.' 
 
 Having given a specimen of his poetical powers, he was 
 asked by Mr. Jorden, to translate Pope's Messiah into Latin 
 verse, as a Christmas exercise. He performed it with un- 
 common rapidity, and in so masterly a manner, that he ob- 
 tained great applause from it, which ever after kept him high 
 in the estimation of his College, and, indeed, of all the 
 L T niversity. 
 
 It is said, that Mr. Pope expressed himself concerning it 
 in terms of strong approbation. Dr. Taylor told me, that 
 it was first printed for old Mr. Johnson, without the knowl- 
 edge of his son, who was very angry when he heard of it.
 
 14 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1729 
 
 The 'morbid melancholy/ which was lurking in his con- 
 stitution, and to which we may ascribe those particulari- 
 ties, and that aversion to regular life, which, at a very early 
 period, marked his character, gathered such strength in his 
 twentieth year, as to afflict him in a dreadful manner. While 
 he was at Lichfield, in the college vacation of the year 1729, 
 he felt himself overwhelmed with an horrible hypochondria, 
 with perpetual irritation, fretfulness, and impatience; and 
 with a dejection, gloom, and despair, which made existence 
 misery. From this dismal malady he never afterwards was 
 perfectly relieved; and all his labours, and all his enjoyments, 
 were but temporary interruptions of its baleful influence. 
 He told Mr. Paradise that he was sometimes so languid 
 and inefficient, that he could not distinguish the hour upon 
 the town-clock. 
 
 Johnson, upon the first violent attack of this disorder, 
 strove to overcome it by forcible exertions. He frequently 
 walked to Birmingham and back again, and tried many 
 other expedients, but all in vain. His expression concern- 
 ing it to me was 'I did not then know how to manage it.' 
 His distress became so intolerable, that he applied to Dr. 
 Swinfen, physician in Lichfield, his god-father, and put into 
 his hands a state of his case, written in Latin. Dr. Swinfen 
 was so much struck with the extraordinary acuteness, re- 
 search, and eloquence of this paper, that in his zeal for his 
 godson he shewed it to several people. His daughter, Mrs. 
 Desmoulins, who was many years humanely supported in 
 Dr. Johnson's house in London, told me, that upon his dis- 
 covering that Dr. Swinfen had communicated his case, he 
 was so much offended, that he was never afterwards fully 
 reconciled to him. He indeed had good reason to be offended; 
 for though Dr. Swinfen's motive was good, he inconsider- 
 ately betrayed a matter deeply interesting and of great 
 delicacy, which had been entrusted to him in confidence; 
 and exposed a complaint of his young friend and patient, 
 which, in the superficial opinion of the generality of man- 
 kind, is attended with contempt and disgrace. 
 
 To Johnson, whose supreme enjoyment was the exercise 
 of his reason, the disturbance or obscuration of that faculty
 
 1729] JOHNSON'S DREAD OF INSANITY 15 
 
 was the evil most to be dreaded. Insanity, therefore, was 
 the object of his most dismal apprehension; and he fancied 
 himself seized by it, or approaching to it, at the very time 
 when he was giving proofs of a more than ordinary sound- 
 ness and vigour of judgement. That his own diseased 
 imagination should have so far deceived him, is strange; 
 but it is stranger still that some of his friends should have 
 given credit to his groundless opinion, when they had such 
 undoubted proofs that it was totally fallacious; though it is 
 by no means surprising that those who wish to depreciate 
 him, should, since his death, have laid hold of this circum- 
 stance, and insisted upon it with very unfair aggravation. 
 
 The history of his mind as to religion is an important 
 article. I have mentioned the early impressions made upon 
 his tender imagination by his mother, who continued her 
 pious care with assiduity, but, in his opinion, not with judge- 
 ment. 'Sunday (said he) was a heavy day to me when I 
 was a boy. My mother confined me on that day, and made 
 me read "The Whole Duty of Man," from a great part of 
 which I could derive no instruction. When, for instance, I 
 had read the chapter on theft, which from my infancy I had 
 been taught was wrong, I was no more convinced that theft 
 was wrong than before; so there was no accession of knowl- 
 edge. A boy should be introduced to such books, by having 
 his attention directed to the arrangement, to the style, and 
 other excellencies of composition; that the mind being thus 
 engaged by an amusing variety of objects, may not grow 
 weary.' 
 
 He communicated to me the following particulars upon 
 the subject of his religious progress. 'I fell into an inatten- 
 tion to religion, or an indifference about it, in my ninth year. 
 The church at Lichfield, in which we had a seat, wanted 
 reparation, so I was to go and find a seat in other churches; 
 and having bad eyes, and being awkward about this, I used 
 to go and read in the fields on Sunday. This habit con- 
 tinued till my fourteenth year; and still I find a great re- 
 luctance to go to church. I then became a sort of lax talker 
 against religion, for I did not much think against it; and 
 this lasted till I went to Oxford, where it would not be suf-
 
 16 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1729 
 
 fered. When at Oxford, I took up Law's Serious Call to a 
 Holy Life, expecting to find it a dull book (as such books 
 generally are), and perhaps to laugh at it. But I found Law 
 quite an overmatch for me; and this was the first occasion 
 of my thinking in earnest of religion, after I became capable 
 of rational inquiry.' From this time forward religion was 
 the predominant object of his thoughts; though, with the 
 just sentiments of a conscientious Christian, he lamented 
 that his practice of its duties fell far short of what it ought 
 to be. 
 
 The particular course of his reading while at Oxford, and 
 during the time of vacation which he passed at home, can- 
 not be traced. Enough has been said of his irregular mode 
 of study. He told me that from his earliest years he loved 
 to read poetry, but hardly ever read any poem to an end; 
 that he read Shakspeare at a period so early, that the 
 speech of the ghost in Hamlet terrified him when he was 
 alone; that Horace's Odes were the compositions in which 
 he took most delight, and it was long before he liked his 
 Epistles and Satires. He told me what he read solidly at 
 Oxford was Greek; not the Grecian historians, but Homer 
 and Euripides, and now and then a little Epigram; that 
 the study of which he was the most fond was Metaphy sicks, 
 but he had not read much, even in that way. I always 
 thought that he did himself injustice in his account of what 
 he had read, and that he must have been speaking with 
 reference to the vast portion of study which is possible, and 
 to which a few scholars in the whole history of literature 
 have attained; for when I once asked him whether a person, 
 whose name I have now forgotten, studied hard, he answered 
 'No, Sir; I do not believe he studied hard. I never knew 
 a man who studied hard. I conclude, indeed, from the 
 effects, that some men have studied hard, as Bentley and 
 Clarke.' Trying him by that criterion upon which he formed 
 his judgement of others, we may be absolutely certain, both 
 from his writings and his conversation, that his reading was 
 very extensive. Dr. Adam Smith, than whom few were 
 better judges on this subject, once observed to me that 
 'Johnson knew more books than any man alive.' -He had a
 
 1729] HIS RAPID READING AND COMPOSITION 17 
 
 peculiar facility in seizing at once what was valuable in any 
 book, without submitting to the labour of perusing it from 
 beginning to end. He had, from the irritability of his con- 
 stitution, at all times, an impatience and hurry when he 
 either read or wrote. A certain apprehension, arising from 
 novelty, made him write his' 'first exercise at College twice 
 over; but he never took that trouble with any other com- 
 position; and we shall see that his most excellent works 
 were struck off at a heat, with rapid exertion. 
 
 No man had a more ardent love of literature, or a higher 
 respect for it than Johnson. His apartment in Pembroke 
 College was that upon the second floor, over the gateway. 
 The enthusiasts of learning will ever contemplate it with 
 veneration. One day, while he was sitting in it quite alone, 
 Dr. Panting, then master of the College, whom he called 'a 
 fine Jacobite fellow,' overheard him uttering this soliloquy 
 in his strong, emphatick voice: 'Well, I have a mind to see 
 what is done in other places of learning. I'll go and visit 
 the Universities abroad. I'll go to France and Italy. I'll 
 go to Padua. And I'll mind my business. For an Athenian 
 blockhead is the worst of all blockheads.' 
 
 Dr. Adams told me that Johnson, while he was at Pem- 
 broke College, 'was caressed and loved by all about him, 
 was a gay and frolicksome fellow, and passed there the 
 happiest part of his life.' But this is a striking proof of 
 the fallacy of appearances, and how little any of us know 
 of the real internal state even of those whom we see most 
 frequently; for the truth is, that he was then depressed by 
 poverty, and irritated by disease. When I mentioned to 
 him this account as given me by Dr. Adams, he said, 'Ah, 
 Sir, I was mad and violent. It was bitterness which they 
 mistook for frolick. I was miserably poor, and I thought .to 
 fight my way by my literature and my wit; so I disregarded 
 all power and all authority.' 
 
 The Bishop of Dromore observes in a letter to me, 
 
 'The pleasure he took in vexing the tutors and fellows 
 has been often mentioned. But I have heard him say, 
 what ought to be recorded to the honour of the present 
 venerable master of that College, the Reverend William
 
 18 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1730 
 
 Adams, D.D., who was then very young, and one of the 
 junior fellows; that the mild but judicious expostulations 
 of this worthy man, whose virtue awed him, and whose 
 learning he revered, made him really ashamed of himself, 
 "though I fear (said he) I was too proud to own it." 
 
 'I have heard from some of his cotemporaries that he 
 was generally seen lounging at the College gate, with a circle 
 of young students round him, whom he was entertaining 
 with wit, and keeping from their studies, if not spiriting 
 them up to rebellion against the College discipline, which in 
 his maturer years he so much extolled.' 
 
 I do not find that he formed any close intimacies with his 
 fellow-collegians. But Dr. Adams told me that he con- 
 tracted a love and regard for Pembroke College, which he 
 retained to the last. A short time before his death he sent 
 to that College a present of all his works, to be deposited in 
 their library; and he had thoughts of leaving to it his house 
 at Lichfield; but his friends who were about him very 
 properly dissuaded him from it, and he bequeathed it to 
 some poor relations. He took a pleasure in boasting of the 
 many eminent men who had been educated at Pembroke. 
 In this list are found the names of Mr. Hawkins the Poetry 
 Professor, Mr. Shenstone, Sir William Blackstone, and 
 others; not forgetting the celebrated popular preacher, Mr. 
 George Whitefield, of whom, though Dr. Johnson did not 
 think very highly, it must be acknowledged that his eloquence 
 was powerful, his views pious and charitable, his assiduity 
 almost incredible; and, that since his death, the integrity of 
 his character has been fully vindicated. Being himself a 
 poet, Johnson was peculiarly happy in mentioning how many 
 of the sons of Pembroke were poets; adding, with a smile of 
 sportive triumph, 'Sir, we are a nest of singing birds.' 
 
 He was not, however, blind to what he thought the de- 
 fects of his own College; and I have, from the information 
 of Dr. Taylor, a very strong instance of that rigid honesty 
 which he ever inflexibly preserved. Taylor had obtained 
 his father's consent to be entered of Pembroke, that he 
 might be with his schoolfellow Johnson, with whom, though 
 some years older than himself, he was very intimate. This
 
 1731] JOHNSON LEAVES OXFORD 19 
 
 would have been a great comfort to Johnson. But he fairly 
 told Taylor that he could not, in conscience, suffer him to 
 enter where he knew he could not have an able tutor. He 
 then made inquiry all round the University, and having 
 found that Mr. Bateman, of Christ Church, was the tutor of 
 highest reputation, Taylor was entered of that College. 
 Mr. Bateman's lectures were so excellent, that Johnson used 
 to come and get them at second-hand from Taylor, till his 
 poverty being so extreme that his shoes were worn out, and 
 his feet appeared through them, he saw that this humiliat- 
 ing circumstance was perceived by the Christ Church men, 
 and he came no more. He was too proud to accept of money, 
 and somebody having set a pair of new shoes at his door, 
 he threw them away with indignation. How must we feel 
 when we read such an anecdote of Samuel Johnson ! 
 
 The res angusta domi prevented him from having the ad- 
 vantage of a complete academical education. The friend 
 to whom he had trusted for support had deceived him. His 
 debts in College, though not great, were increasing; and his 
 scanty remittances from Lichfield, which had all along been 
 made with great difficulty, could be supplied no longer, his 
 father having fallen into a state of insolvency. Compelled, 
 therefore, by irresistible necessity, he left the College in 
 autumn, 1731, without a degree, having been a member of 
 it little more than three years. 
 
 And now (I had almost said poor) Samuel Johnson returned 
 to his native city, destitute, and not knowing how he should 
 gain even a decent livelihood. His father's misfortunes in 
 trade rendered him unable to support his son; and for some 
 time there appeared no means by which he could maintain 
 himself. In the December of this year his father died. 
 
 Johnson was so far fortunate, that the respectable charac- 
 ter of his parents, and his own merit, had, from his earliest 
 years, secured him a kind reception in the best families at 
 Lichfield. Among these I can mention Mr. Howard, Dr. 
 Swinfen, Mr. Simpson, Mr. Levett, Captain Garrick, father 
 of the great ornament of the British stage; but above all, 
 Mr. Gilbert Walmsley, Register of the Prerogative Court 
 of Lichfield, whose character, long after his decease, Dr.
 
 20 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1732 
 
 Johnson has, in his Life of Edmund Smith, thus drawn in 
 the glowing colours of gratitude: 
 
 ' Of Gilbert Walmsley, thus presented to my mind, let me 
 indulge myself in the remembrance. I knew him very 
 early; he was "one of the first friends that literature pro- 
 cured me, and I hope that, at least, my gratitude made me 
 worthy of his notice. 
 
 'He was of an advanced age, and I was only not a boy, 
 yet he never received my notions with contempt. He was 
 a whig, with all the virulence and malevolence of his party; 
 yet difference of opinion did not keep us apart. I honoured 
 him and he endured me. 
 
 'At this man's table I enjoyed many cheerful and instruc- 
 tive hours, with companions, such as are not often found 
 with one who has lengthened, and one who has gladdened 
 life; with Dr. James, whose skill in physick will be long re- 
 membered; and with David Garrick, whom I hoped to have 
 gratified with this character of our common friend. But 
 what are the hopes of man! I am disappointed by that 
 stroke of death, which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, 
 and impoverished the publick stock of harmless pleasure.' 
 
 In these families he passed much time in his early years. 
 In most of them, he was in the company of ladies, particu- 
 larly at Mr. Walmsley's, whose wife and sisters-in-law, of 
 the name of Aston, and daughters of a Baronet, were remark- 
 able for good breeding; so that the notion which has been 
 industriously circulated and believed, that he never was in 
 good company till late in life, and, consequently had been 
 confirmed in coarse and ferocious manners by long habits, 
 is wholly without foundation. Some of the ladies have as- 
 sured me, they recollected him well when a young man, as 
 distinguished for his complaisance. 
 
 In .the forlorn state of his circumstances, he accepted of 
 an offer to be employed as usher in the school of Market- 
 Bosworth, in Leicestershire, to which it appears, from one 
 of his little fragments of a diary, that he went on foot, on 
 the 16th of July. 
 
 This employment was very irksome to him in every re- 
 spect, and he complained grievously of it in his letters to
 
 1732] LIFE IN BIRMINGHAM 21 
 
 his friend Mr. Hector, who was now settled as a surgeon 
 at Birmingham. The letters are lost; but Mr. Hector rec- 
 ollects his writing 'that the poet had described the dull 
 sameness of his existence in these words, " Vitam continet 
 una dies" (one day contains the whole of my life); that it 
 was unvaried as the note of the cuckow; and that he did not 
 know whether it was more disagreeable for him to teach, or 
 the boys to learn, the grammar rules.' His general aversion 
 to this painful drudgery was greatly enhanced by a disagree- 
 ment between him and Sir Wolstan Dixey, the patron of 
 the school, in whose house, I have been told, he officiated as 
 a kind of domestick chaplain, so far, at least, as to say grace 
 at table, but was treated with what he represented as in- 
 tolerable harshness; and, after suffering for a few months 
 such complicated misery, he relinquished a situation which 
 all his life afterwards he recollected with the strongest aver- 
 sion, and even a degree of horrour. But it is probable that 
 at this period, whatever uneasiness he may have endured, 
 he laid the foundation of much future eminence by applica- 
 tion to his studies. 
 
 Being now again totally unoccupied, he was invited by 
 Mr. Hector to pass some time with him at Birmingham, as 
 his guest, at the house of Mr. Warren, with whom Mr. 
 Hector lodged and boarded. Mr. Warren was the first 
 established bookseller in Birmingham, and was very atten- 
 tive to Johnson, who he soon found could be of much ser- 
 vice to him in his trade, by his knowledge of literature; and 
 he even obtained the assistance of his pen in furnishing 
 some numbers of a periodical Essay printed in the news- 
 paper, of which Warren was proprietor. After very dili- 
 gent inquiry, I have not been able to recover those early 
 specimens of that particular mode of writing by which 
 Johnson afterwards so greatly distinguished himself. 
 
 He continued to live as Mr. Hector's guest for about six 
 months, and then hired lodgings in another part of the town, 
 finding himself as well situated at Birmingham as he sup- 
 posed he could be any where, while he had no settled plan 
 of life, and very scanty means of subsistence. He made 
 some valuable acquaintances there, amongst whom were
 
 22 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1734 
 
 Mr. Porter, a mercer, whose widow he afterwards married, 
 and Mr. Taylor, who by his ingenuity in mechanical inven- 
 tions, and his success in trade, acquired an immense fortune. 
 But the comfort of being near Mr. Hector, his old school- 
 fellow and intimate friend, was Johnson's chief inducement 
 to continue here. 
 
 His juvenile attachments to the fair sex were very tran- 
 sient ; and it is certain that he formed no criminal connection 
 whatsoever. Mr. Hector, who lived with him in his younger 
 days in the utmost intimacy and social freedom, has assured 
 me, that even at that ardent season his conduct was strictly 
 virtuous in that respect; and that though he loved to ex- 
 hilarate himself with wine, he never knew him intoxicated 
 but once. 
 
 In a man whom religious education has secured from 
 licentious indulgences, the passion of love, when once it 
 has seized him, is exceedingly strong; being unimpaired by 
 dissipation, and totally concentrated in one object. This 
 was experienced by Johnson, when he became the fervent 
 admirer of Mrs. Porter, after her first husband's death. 
 Miss Porter told me, that when he was first introduced to 
 her mother, his appearance was very forbidding: he was 
 then lean and lank, so that his immense structure of bones 
 was hideously striking to the eye, and the scars of the scroph- 
 ula were deeply visible. He also wore his hair, which was 
 straight and stiff, and separated behind: and he often had, 
 seemingly, convulsive starts and odd gesticulations, which 
 tended to excite at once surprize and ridicule. Mrs. Porter 
 was so much engaged by his conversation that she overlooked 
 all these external disadvantages, and said to her daughter, 
 'this is the most sensible man that I ever saw in my life.' 
 
 Though Mrs. Porter was double the age of Johnson, and 
 her person and manner, as described to me by the late Mr. 
 Garrick, were by no means pleasing to others, she must have 
 had a superiority of understanding and talents, as she cer- 
 tainly inspired him with a more than ordinary passion; and 
 she having signified her willingness to accept of his hand, 
 he went to Lichfield to ask his mother's consent to the 
 marriage, which he could not but be conscious was a very
 
 1735] JOHNSON'S MARRIAGE 23 
 
 imprudent scheme, both on account of their disparity of 
 years, and her want of fortune. But Mrs. Johnson knew 
 too well the ardour of her son's temper, and was too tender 
 a parent to oppose his inclinations. 
 
 I know not for what reason the marriage ceremony was 
 not performed at Birmingham; but a resolution was taken 
 that it should be at Derby, for which place the bride and 
 bridegroom set out on horseback, I suppose in very good 
 humour. But though Mr. Topham Beauclerk used archly 
 to mention Johnson's having told him, with much gravity, 
 'Sir, it was a love marriage on both sides,' I have had from 
 my illustrious friend the following curious account of their 
 journey to church upon the nuptial morn: 
 
 9th JULY: 'Sir, she had read the old romances, and had 
 got into her head the fantastical notion that a woman of 
 spirit should use her lover like a dog. So, Sir, at first she 
 told me that I rode too fast, and she could not keep up with 
 me; and, when I rode a little slower, she passed me, and 
 complained that I lagged behind. I was not to be made 
 the slave of caprice; and I resolved to begin as I meant to 
 end. I therefore pushed on briskly, till I was fairly out of 
 her sight. The road lay between two hedges, so I was sure 
 she could not miss it; and I contrived that she should soon 
 come up with me. When she did, I observed her to be in 
 tears.' 
 
 This, it must be allowed, was a singular beginning of con- 
 nubial felicity; but there is no doubt that Johnson, though 
 he thus shewed a manly firmness, proved a most affectionate 
 and indulgent husband to the last moment of Mrs. Johnson's 
 life: and in his Prayers and Meditations, we find very re- 
 markable evidence that his regard and fondness for her 
 never ceased, even after her death. 
 
 He now set up a private academy, for which purpose he 
 hired a large house, well situated near his native city. In 
 the Gentleman's Magazine for 1736, there is the following 
 advertisement : 
 
 'At Edial, near Lichfield, in Staffordshire, young gentle- 
 men are boarded and taught the Latin and Greek languages, 
 by SAAIUEL JOHNSON.'
 
 24 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 But the only pupils that were put under his care were the 
 celebrated David Garrick and his brother George, and a 
 Mr. Offely, a young gentleman of good fortune who died 
 early. The truth is, that he was not so well qualified for 
 being a teacher of- elements, and a conductor in learning 
 by regular gradations, as men of inferiour powers of mind. 
 His own acquisitions had been made by fits and starts, 
 by violent irruptions into the regions of knowledge; and 
 it could not be expected that his impatience would be sub- 
 dued, and his impetuosity restrained, so as to fit him for 
 a quiet guide to novices. 
 
 Johnson was not more satisfied with his situation as the 
 master of an academy, than with that of the usher of a 
 school; we need not wonder, therefore, that he did not 
 keep his academy above a year and a half. From Mr. 
 Garrick's account he did not appear to have been profoundly 
 reverenced by his pupils. His oddities of manner, and un- 
 couth gesticulations, could not but be the subject of merri- 
 ment to them; and, in particular, the young rogues used to 
 listen at the door of his bed-chamber, and peep through the 
 key-hole, that they might turn into ridicule his tumultuous 
 and awkward fondness for Mrs. Johnson, whom he used to 
 name by the familiar appellation of Tetty or Tetsey, which, 
 like Betty or Betsey, is provincially used as a contraction for 
 Elisabeth, her Christian name, but which to us seems ludi- 
 crous, when applied to a woman of her age and appearance. 
 Mr. Garrick described her to me as very fat, with a bosom 
 of more than ordinary protuberance, with swelled cheeks of 
 a florid red, produced by thick painting, and increased by 
 the liberal use of cordials; flaring and fantastick in her dress, 
 and affected both in her speech and her general behaviour. 
 I have seen Garrick exhibit her, by his exquisite talent of 
 mimickry, so as to excite the heartiest bursts of laughter; 
 but he, probably, as is the case in all such representations, 
 considerably aggravated the picture. 
 
 Johnson now thought of trying his fortune in London, the 
 great field of genius and exertion, where talents of every 
 kind have the fullest scope, and the highest encouragement. 
 It is a memorable circumstance that his pupil David Garrick
 
 1736] JOHNSON GOES TO LONDON 25 
 
 went thither at the same time, 1 with intention to complete 
 his education, and follow the profession of the law, from 
 which he was soon diverted by his decided preference for the 
 stage. 
 
 They were recommended to Mr. Colson, an eminent 
 mathematician and master of an academy, by the following 
 letter from Mr. Walmsley: 
 
 'To THE REVEREND MR. COLSON. 
 
 'Lichfield, March 2, 1737. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I had the favour of yours, and am extremely 
 obliged to you; but I cannot say I had a greater affection 
 for you upon it than I had before, being long since so much 
 endeared to you, as well by an early friendship, as by your 
 many excellent and valuable qualifications; and, had I a 
 son of my own, it would be my ambition, instead of sending 
 him to the University, to dispose of him as this young gentle- 
 man is. 
 
 'He, and another neighbour of mine, one Mr. Samuel 
 Johnson, set out this morning for London together. Davy 
 Garrick is to be with you early the next week, and Mr. John- 
 son to try his fate with a tragedy, and to see to get himself 
 employed in some translation, either from the Latin or the 
 French. Johnson is a very good scholar and poet, and I 
 have great hopes will turn out a fine tragedy-writer. If it 
 should any way lie in your way, doubt not but you would be 
 ready to recommend and assist your countryman. 
 
 'G. WALMSLEY.' 
 
 Both of them used to talk pleasantly of this their first journey to 
 London. Garrick. evidently meaning to embellish a little, said one 
 day In my hearing. ' we rode and tied.' And the Bishop of Killaloe 
 Informed me, that at another time, when Johnson and Garrick were 
 dining together in a pretty large company, Johnson humorously as- 
 certaining the chronology of something, expressed himself thus: 'that 
 was the year when I came to London with two-pence half-penny hi 
 my pocket.' Garrick overhearing him, exclaimed, 'Eh? what do you 
 say? with two-pence half-penny in your pocket?' JOHNSON, 'Why 
 yes; when I came with two- pence half-penny in my pocket, and thou, 
 Davy, with three half-pence in thine.' BOSWELL.
 
 26 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1737 
 
 How he employed himself upon his first coming to Lon- 
 don is not particularly known. 1 
 
 He had a little money when he came to town, and he 
 knew how he could live in the cheapest manner. His first 
 lodgings were at the house of Mr. Norris, a staymaker, in 
 Exeter-street, adjoining Catharine-street, in the Strand. 
 'I dined (said he) very well for eight-pence, with very good 
 company, at the Pine Apple in New-street, just by. Several 
 of them had travelled. They expected to meet every day; 
 but did not know one another's names. It used to cost the 
 rest a shilling, for they drank wine; but I had a cut of meat 
 for six-pence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter 
 a penny; so that I was quite well served, nay, better than 
 the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing.' He at this time, 
 I believe, abstained entirely from fermented liquors: a prac- 
 tice to which he rigidly conformed for many years together, 
 at different periods of his life. 
 
 His Ofellus in the Art of Living in London, I have heard 
 him relate, was an Irish painter, whom he knew at Birming- 
 ham, and who had practised his own precepts of ceconomy 
 for several years in the British capital. He assured John- 
 son, who, I suppose, was then meditating to try his fortune 
 in London, but was apprehensive of the expence, 'that thirty 
 pounds a year was enough to enable a man to live there 
 without being contemptible. He allowed ten pounds for 
 clothes and linen. He said a man might live in a garret at 
 eighteen-pence a week; few people would inquire where he 
 lodged; and if they did, it was easy to say, "Sir, I am to be 
 found at such a place." By spending three-pence in a coffee- 
 house, he might be for some hours every day in very good 
 company; he might dine for six-pence, breakfast on bread 
 and milk for a penny, and do without supper. On dean- 
 shirt-day he went abroad, and paid visits.' I have heard 
 him more than once talk of this frugal friend, whom he 
 
 1 One curious anecdote was communicated by himself to Mr. John 
 Nichols. Mr. Wilcox, the bookseller, on being informed by him that 
 his intention was to get his livelihood as an authour, eyed his robust 
 frame attentively, and with a significant look, said, 'You had better 
 buy a porter's knot.' He however added, 'Wilcox was one of my best 
 friends.' BOBWELL.
 
 1737] RETURNS TO LICHFIELD 27 
 
 recollected with esteem and kindness, and did not like to 
 have one smile at the recital. 'This man (said he, gravely) 
 was a very sensible man, who perfectly understood common 
 affairs: a man of a great deal of knowledge of the world, 
 fresh from life, not strained through books. He amused 
 himself, I remember, by computing how much more expence 
 was absolutely necessary to live upon the same scale with 
 that which his friend described, when the value of money 
 was diminished by the progress of commerce. It may be 
 estimated that double the money might now with difficulty 
 be sufficient.' 
 
 Amidst this cold obscurity, there was one brilliant circum- 
 stance to cheer him ; he was well acquainted with Mr. Henry 
 Hervey, one of the branches of the noble family of that 
 name, who had been quartered at Lichfield as an officer of 
 the army, and had at this time a house in London, where 
 Johnson was frequently entertained, and had an opportunity 
 of meeting genteel company. Not very long before his 
 death, he mentioned this, among other particulars of his 
 life, which he was kindly communicating to me; and he 
 described this early friend, 'Harry Hervey,' thus: 'He was 
 a vicious man, but very kind to me. If you call a dog 
 HERVEY, I shall love him.' 
 
 He told me he had now written only three acts of his 
 Irene, and that he retired for some time to lodgings at 
 Greenwich, where he proceeded in it somewhat further, and 
 used to compose, walking in the Park; but did not stay 
 long enough at that place to finish it. 
 
 In the course of the summer he returned to Lichfield, 
 where he had left Mrs. Johnson, and there he at last finished 
 his tragedy, which was not executed with his rapidity of 
 composition upon other occasions, but was slowly and pain- 
 fully elaborated. A few days before his death, while burn- 
 ing a great mass of papers, he picked out from among them 
 the original unformed sketch of this tragedy, in his own 
 hand-writing, and gave it to Mr. Langton, by whose favour 
 a copy of it is now in my possession. 
 
 Johnson's residence at Lichfield, on his return to it at this 
 tune, was only for three months; and as he had as yet seen
 
 28 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1738 
 
 but a small part of the wonders of the Metropolis, he had 
 little to tell his townsmen. He related to me the following 
 minute anecdote of this period: 'In the last age, when my 
 mother lived in London, there were two sets of people, those 
 who gave the wall, and those who took it; the peaceable 
 and the quarrelsome. When I returned to Lichfield, after 
 having been in London, my mother asked me, whether I 
 was one of those who gave the wall, or those who took it. 
 Now it is fixed that every man keeps to the right; or, if one 
 is taking the wall, another yields it; and it is never a dispute.' 
 
 He now removed to London with Mrs. Johnson; but her 
 daughter, who had lived with them at Edial, was left with 
 her relations in the country. His lodgings were for some 
 time in Woodstock-street, near Hanover-square, and after- 
 wards in Castle-street, near Cavendish-square. 
 
 His tragedy being by this time, as he thought, completely 
 finished and fit for the stage, he was very desirous that it 
 should be brought forward. Mr. Peter Garrick told me, 
 that Johnson and he went together to the Fountain tavern, 
 and read it over, and that he afterwards solicited Mr. Fleet- 
 wood, the patentee of Drury-lane theatre, to have it acted 
 at his house; but Mr. Fleetwood would not accept it, prob- 
 ably because it wa's not patronized by some man of high 
 rank; and it was not acted till 1749, when his friend David 
 Garrick was manager of that theatre. 
 
 The Gentleman's Magazine, begun and carried on by Mr. 
 Edward Cave, under the name of SYLVANUS URBAN, had 
 attracted the notice and esteem of Johnson, in an eminent 
 degree, before he came to London as an adventurer in litera- 
 ture. He told me, that when he first saw St. John's Gate, 
 the place where that deservedly popular miscellany was 
 originally printed, he 'beheld it with reverence.' 
 
 It appears that he was now enlisted by Mr. Cave as a 
 regular coadjutor in his magazine, by which he probably 
 obtained a tolerable livelihood. At what time, or by what 
 means, he had acquired a competent knowledge both of 
 French and Italian, I do not know; but he was so well skilled 
 in them, as to be sufficiently qualified for a translator. That 
 part of his labour which consisted in emendation and im-
 
 1738] REPORTS OF THE DEBATES 29 
 
 provement of the productions of other contributors, like 
 that employed in levelling ground, can be perceived only by 
 those who had an opportunity of comparing the original 
 with the altered copy. What we certainly know to have 
 been done by him in this way, was the Debates in both 
 houses of Parliament, under the name of 'The Senate of 
 Lilliput,' sometimes with feigned denominations of the sev- 
 eral speakers, sometimes with denominations formed of the 
 letters of then* real names, in the manner of what is. called 
 anagram, so that they might easily be decyphered. Parlia- 
 ment then kept the press in a kind of mysterious awe, which 
 made it necessary to have recourse to such devices. In our 
 time it has acquired an unrestrained freedom, so that the 
 people in all parts of the kingdom have a fair, open, and 
 exact report of the actual proceedings of their representa- 
 tives and legislators, which in our constitution is highly to 
 be valued; though, unquestionably, there has of late been 
 too much reason to complain of the petulance with which 
 obscure scribblers have presumed to treat men of the most 
 respectable character and situation. 
 
 This important article of the Gentleman's Magazine was, 
 for several years, executed by Mr. William Guthrie, a man 
 who deserves to be respectably recorded in the literary an- 
 nals of this country. The debates in Parliament, which 
 were brought home and digested by Guthrie, whose memory, 
 though surpassed by others who have since followed him in 
 the same department, was yet very quick and tenacious, 
 were sent by Cave to Johnson for his revision; and, after 
 some time, when Guthrie had attained to greater variety 
 of employment, and the speeches were more and more en- 
 riched by the accession of Johnson's genius, it was resolved 
 that he should do the whole himself, from the scanty notes 
 furnished by persons employed to attend in both houses of 
 Parliament. Sometimes, however, as he himself told me, 
 he had nothing more communicated to him than the names 
 of the several speakers, and the part which they had taken 
 in the debate. 1 
 
 1 Johnson later told Boswell that ' as soon as he found that the 
 speeches were thought genuine, he determined that he would write
 
 30 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [173* 
 
 But what first displayed his transcendent powers, and 
 'gave the world assurance of the MAN/ was his London, a 
 Poem, in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal: which 
 came out in May this year, and burst forth with a splendour, 
 the rays of which will for ever encircle his name. Boileau 
 had imitated the same satire with great success, applying 
 it to Paris; but an attentive comparison will satisfy every 
 reader, that he is much excelled by the English Juvenal. 
 Oldham had also imitated it, and applied it to London;" all 
 which performances concur to prove, that great cities, in 
 every age, and in every country, will furnish similar topicks 
 of satire. Whether Johnson had previously read Oldham's 
 imitation, I do not know; but it is not a little remarkable, 
 that there is scarcely any coincidence found between the 
 two performances, though upon the very same subject. 
 
 Johnson's London was published in May, 1738; and it is 
 remarkable, that it came out on the same morning with 
 Pope's satire, entitled '1738;' so that England had at once 
 its Juvenal and Horace as poetical monitors. The Reverend 
 Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, to whom I am in- 
 debted for some obliging communications, was then a stu- 
 dent at Oxford, and remembers well the effect which London 
 produced. Every body was delighted with it; and there 
 being no name to it, the first buz of the literary circles was 
 'here is an unknown poet, greater even than Pope.' And it 
 is recorded in the Gentleman's Magazine of that year, that it 
 'got to the second edition in the course of a week.' 
 
 One of the warmest patrons of this poem on its first ap- 
 pearance was General Oglethorpe, whose 'strong benevo- 
 lence of soul,' was unabated during the course of a very long 
 life; though it is painful to think, that he had but too much 
 reason to become cold and callous, and discontented with 
 the world, from the neglect which he experienced of his 
 publick and private worth, by those in whose power it was 
 to gratify so gallant a veteran with marks of distinction. 
 
 no more of them; for "he would not be accessary to the propagation 
 of falsehood." And such was the tenderness of his conscience, that a. 
 short time before his death he expressed his regret for his having been 
 the authour of fictions which had passed for realities.' ED.
 
 1738] HIS POEM, LONDON 31 
 
 This extraordinary person was as remarkable for his learning 
 and taste, as for his other eminent qualities; and no man 
 was more prompt, active, and generous, in encouraging 
 merit. I have heard Johnson gratefully acknowledge, in his 
 presence, the kind and effectual support which he gave to 
 his London, though unacquainted with its authour. 
 
 Pope, who then filled the poetical throne without a rival, 
 it may reasonably be presumed, must have been particularly 
 struck by the sudden appearance of such a poet; and, to his 
 credit, let it be remembered, that his feelings and conduct 
 on the occasion were candid and liberal. He requested Mr. 
 Richardson, son of the painter, to endeavour to find out 
 who this new authour was. Mr. Richardson, after some in- 
 quiry, having informed him that he had discovered only that 
 his name was Johnson, and that he was some obscure man, 
 Pope said, 'he will soon be dtterrt.' We shall presently see, 
 from a note written by Pope, that he was himself after- 
 wards more successful in his inquiries than his friend. 
 
 While we admire the poetical excellence of this poem, 
 candour obliges us to allow, that the flame of patriotism and 
 zeal for popular resistance with which it is fraught, had no 
 just cause. There was, in truth, no 'oppression;' the 'na- 
 tion' was not 'cheated.' Sir Robert Wai pole was a wise and 
 a benevolent minister, who thought that the happiness and 
 prosperity of a commercial country like ours, would be best 
 promoted by peace, which he accordingly maintained, with 
 credit, during a very long period. Johnson himself after- 
 wards honestly acknowledged the merit of Walpole, whom 
 he called 'a fixed star;' while he characterised his opponent, 
 Pitt, as 'a meteor.' But Johnson's juvenile poem was natu- 
 rally impregnated with the fire of opposition, and upon every 
 account was universally admired. 
 
 Though thus elevated into fame, and conscious of uncom- 
 mon powers, he had not that bustling confidence, or, I may 
 rather say, that animated ambition, which one might have 
 supposed would have urged him to endeavour at rising in 
 life. But such was his inflexible dignity of character, that 
 he could not stoop to court the great; without which, hardly 
 any man has made his way to a high station. He could not
 
 32 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 expect to produce many such works as his London, and he 
 felt the hardships of writing for bread; he was, therefore, 
 willing to resume the office of a schoolmaster, so as to have 
 a sure, though moderate income for his life; and an offer 
 being made to him of the mastership of a school, provided 
 he could obtain the degree of Master of Arts, Dr. Adams 
 was applied to, by a common friend, to know whether that 
 could be granted him as a favour from the University of 
 Oxford. But though he had made such a figure in the lit- 
 erary world, it was then thought too great a favour to be 
 asked. 
 
 Pope, without any knowledge of him but from his London, 
 recommended him to Earl Gower, who endeavoured to pro- 
 cure for him a degree from Dublin. 
 
 It was, perhaps, no small disappointment to Johnson that 
 this respectable application had not the desired effect; yet 
 how much reason has there been, both for himself and his 
 country, to rejoice that it did not succeed, as he might prob- 
 ably have wasted in obscurity those hours in which he after- 
 wards produced his incomparable works. 
 
 About this time he made one other effort to emancipate 
 himself from the drudgery of authourship. He applied to 
 Dr. Adams, to consult Dr. Smalbroke of the Commons, 
 whether a person might be permitted to practice as an ad- 
 vocate there, without a doctor's degree in Civil Law. 'I 
 am (said he) a total stranger to these studies; but whatever 
 is a profession, and maintains numbers, must be within the 
 reach of common abilities, and some degree of industry.' 
 Dr. Adams was much pleased with Johnson's design to 
 employ his talents in that manner, being confident he would 
 have attained to great eminence. 
 
 As Mr. Pope's note concerning Johnson, alluded to in a 
 former page, refers both to his London, and his M armor 
 Norfolciense, I have deferred inserting it till now. I am in- 
 debted for it to Dr. Percy, the Bishop of Dromore, who per- 
 mitted me to copy it from the original in his possession. It 
 was presented to his Lordship by Sir Joshua Reynolds, to 
 whom it was given by the son of Mr. ^Richardson the painter, 
 the person to whom it is addressed. I have transcribed it
 
 17391 JOHNSON'S TRICKS OF BODY 33 
 
 with minute exactness, that the peculiar mode of writing, 
 and imperfect spelling of that celebrated poet, may be ex- 
 hibited to the curious in literature. It justifies Swift's 
 epithet of 'paper-sparing Pope,' for it is written on a slip 
 no larger than a common message-card, and was sent to 
 Mr. Richardson, along with the Imitation of Juvenal. 
 
 ' This is imitated by one Johnson who put in for a Publick- 
 school in Shropshire, but was disappointed. He has an in- 
 firmity of the convulsive kind, that attacks him sometimes, 
 so as to make him a sad Spectacle. Mr. P. from the Merit 
 of this Work which was all the knowledge he had of him 
 endeavour'd to serve him without his own application; & 
 wrote to my L d gore, but he did not succeed. Mr. Johnson 
 published afterw d another Poem in Latin with Notes the 
 whole very Humerous call'd the Norfolk Prophecy. P.' 
 
 Johnson had been told of this note; and Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds informed him of the compliment which it contained, 
 but, from delicacy, avoided shewing him the paper itself. 
 When Sir Joshua observed to Johnson that he seemed very 
 desirous to see Pope's note, he answered, ' Who would not be 
 proud to have such a man as Pope so solicitous in inquiring 
 about him?' 
 
 The infirmity to which Mr. Pope alludes, appeared to me 
 also, as I have elsewhere observed, to be of the convulsive 
 kind, and of the nature of that distemper called St. Vitus's 
 dance; and in this opinion I am confirmed by the descrip- 
 tion which Sydenham gives of that disease. 'This disorder 
 is a kind of convulsion. It manifests itself by halting or 
 unsteadiness of one of the legs, which the patient draws after 
 him like an ideot. If the hand of the same side be applied to 
 the breast, or any other part of the body, he cannot keep it 
 a moment in the same posture, but it will be drawn into a 
 different one by a convulsion, notwithstanding all his efforts 
 to the contrary.' Sir Joshua Reynolds, however, was of a 
 different opinion, and favoured me with the following paper. 
 
 'Those motions or tricks of Dr. Johnson are improperly 
 called convulsions. He could sit motionless, when he was 
 told so to do, as well as any other man; my opinion is that it
 
 34 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1739 
 
 proceeded from a habit which he had indulged himself in, 
 -of accompanying his thoughts with certain untoward actions, 
 and those actions always appeared to me as if they were 
 meant to reprobate some part of his past conduct. When- 
 ever he was not engaged in conversation, such thoughts were 
 sure to rush into his mind; and, for this reason, any com- 
 pany, any employment whatever, he preferred to being 
 alone. The great business of his life (he said) was to escape 
 from himself; this disposition he considered as the disease 
 of his mind, which nothing cured but company. 
 
 'One instance of his absence and particularity, as it is 
 characteristick of the man, may be worth relating. When 
 he and I took a journey together into the West, we visited 
 the late Mr. Banks, of Dorsetshire; the conversation turn- 
 ing upon pictures, which Johnson could not well see, he re- 
 tired to a corner of the room, stretching out his right leg as 
 far as he could reach before him, then bringing up his left 
 leg, and stretching his right still further on. The old gentle- 
 man observing him, went up to him, and in a very courteous 
 manner assured him, that though it was not a new house, 
 the flooring was perfectly safe. The Doctor started from 
 his reverie, like a person waked out of his sleep, but spoke 
 not a word.' 
 
 While we are on this subject, my readers may not be dis- 
 pleased with another anecdote, communicated to me by the 
 same friend, from the relation of Mr. Hogarth. 
 
 Johnson used to be a pretty frequent visitor at the house 
 of Mr. Richardson, authour of Clarissa, and other novels of 
 extensive reputation. Mr. Hogarth came one day to see 
 Richardson, soon after the execution of Dr. Cameron, for 
 having taken arms for the house of Stuart in 1745-6; and 
 being a warm partisan of George the Second, he observed to 
 Richardson, that certainly there must have been some very 
 unfavourable circumstances lately discovered in this par- 
 ticular case, which had induced the King to approve of an 
 execution for rebellion so long after the time when it was 
 committed, as this had the appearance of putting a man to 
 death in cold blood, and was very unlike his Majesty's usual 
 clemency. While he was talking, he perceived a person
 
 1740] EPITAPH ON PHILIPS 35 
 
 standing at a window in the room, shaking his head, and 
 rolling himself about in a strange ridiculous manner. He 
 concluded that he was an ideot, whom his relations had put 
 under the care of Mr. Richardson, as a very good man. To 
 his great surprize, however, this figure stalked forwards to 
 where he and Mr. Richardson were sitting, and all at once 
 took up the argument, and burst out into an invective against 
 George the Second, as one, who, upon all occasions, was 
 unrelenting and barbarous; mentioning many instances, 
 particularly, that when an officer of high rank had been 
 acquitted by a Court Martial, George the Second had with 
 his own hand, struck his name off the list. In short, he dis- 
 played such a power of eloquence, that Hogarth looked at 
 him with astonishment, and actually imagined that this ideot 
 had been at the moment inspired. Neither Hogarth nor 
 Johnson were made known to each other at this interview. 
 
 1740: /ETAT. 31.] IN 1740 he wrote for the Gentleman's 
 Magazine the 'Preface,' 'Life of Sir Francis Drake,' and the 
 first parts of those of 'Admiral Blake,' and of 'Philip Bare- 
 tier,' both which he finished the following year. He also 
 wrote an 'Essay on Epitaphs,' and an 'Epitaph on Philips, 
 a Musician,' which was afterwards published with some other 
 pieces of his, in Mrs. Williams's Miscellanies. This Epitaph 
 is so exquisitely beautiful, that I remember even Lord Kames, 
 strangely prejudiced as he was against Dr. Johnson, was 
 compelled to allow it very high praise. It has been ascribed 
 to Mr. Garrick, from its appearing at first with the signature 
 G; but I have heard Mr. Garrick declare, that it was written 
 by Dr. Johnson, and give the following account of the man- 
 ner in which it was composed. Johnson and he were sitting 
 together; when, amongst other things, Garrick repeated an 
 Epitaph upon this Philips by a Dr. Wilkes, in these words: 
 
 'Exalted soul! whose harmony could please 
 The love-sick virgin, and the gouty ease; 
 Could jarring discord, like Amphion, move 
 To beauteous order and harmonious love; 
 Rest here in peace, till angels bid thee rise, 
 And meet thy blessed Saviour in the skies.'
 
 36 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1744 
 
 Johnson shook his head at these common-place funereal 
 lines, and said to Garrick, 'I think, Davy, I can make a 
 better.' Then, stirring about his tea for a little while, in 
 a state of meditation, he almost extempore produced the 
 following verses: 
 
 ' Philips, whose touch harmonious could remove 
 The pangs of guilty power or hapless love; 
 Rest here, distress' d by poverty no more, 
 Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; 
 Sleep, undisturb'd, within this peaceful shrine, 
 Till angels wake thee with a note like thine ! ' 
 
 1742: ^TAT. 33.] IN 1742 he wrote . . . 'Proposals for 
 Printing Bibliotheca Harleiana, or a Catalogue of the Library 
 of the Earl of Oxford.' He was employed in this business 
 by Mr. Thomas Osborne the bookseller, who purchased the 
 library for 13,000/., a sum which Mr. Oldys says, in one of 
 his manuscripts, was not more than the binding of the books 
 had cost; yet, as Dr. Johnson assured me, the slowness of 
 the sale was such, that there was not much gained by it. 
 It has been confidently related, with many embellishments, 
 that Johnson one day knocked Osborne down in his shop, 
 with a folio, and put his foot upon his neck. The simple 
 truth I had from Johnson himself. ' Sir, he was impertinent 
 to me, and I beat him. But it was not in his shop: it was 
 in my own chamber.' 
 
 1744: .ETAT. 35.] HE produced one work this year, fully 
 sufficient to maintain the high reputation which he had ac- 
 quired. This was The Life of Richard Savage; a man, of 
 whom it is difficult to speak impartially, without wondering 
 that he was for some time the intimate companion of John- 
 son; for his character was marked by profligacy, insolence, 
 and ingratitude: yet, as he undoubtedly had a warm and 
 vigorous, though unregulated mind, had seen life in all its 
 varieties, and been much in the company of the statesmen 
 and wits of his time, he could communicate to Johnson an 
 abundant supply of such materials as his philosophical curi- 
 osity most eagerly desired; and as Savage's misfortunes and 
 misconduct had reduced him to the lowest state of wretched-
 
 1744] IN WANT OF A LODGING 37 
 
 ness as a writer for bread, his visits to St. John's Gate natu- 
 rally brought Johnson and him together. 
 
 It is melancholy to reflect, that Johnson and Savage were 
 sometimes in such extreme indigence, 1 that they could not 
 pay for a lodging; so that they have wandered together 
 whole nights in the streets. Yet in these almost incredible 
 scenes of distress, we may suppose that Savage mentioned 
 many of the anecdotes with which Johnson afterwards en- 
 riched the life of his unhappy companion, and those of other 
 Poets. 
 
 He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that one night in particular, 
 when Savage and he walked round St. James 's-square for 
 want of a lodging, they were not at all depressed by their 
 situation; but in high spirits and brimful of patriotism, 
 traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the 
 minister, and 'resolved they wotjld stand by their country.' 
 
 In Johnson's Life of Savage, although it must be allowed 
 that its moral is the reverse of ' Respicere exemplar vitce 
 morumque jubebo,' a very useful lesson is inculcated, to guard 
 men of warm passions from a too free indulgence of them; 
 and the various incidents are related in so clear and ani- 
 mated a manner, and illuminated throughout with so much 
 philosophy, that it is one of the most interesting narratives 
 in the English language. Sir Joshua Reynolds told me, that 
 upon his return from Italy he met with it in Devonshire, 
 knowing nothing of its authour, and began to read it while 
 he was standing with his arm leaning against a chimney- 
 piece. It seized his attention so strongly, that, not being 
 able to lay down the book till he had finished it, when he 
 attempted to move, he found his arm totally benumbed. 
 The rapidity with which this work was composed, is a won- 
 derful circumstance. Johnson has been heard to say, 'I 
 
 1 Soon after Savage's Life was published, Mr. Harte dined with Ed- 
 ward Cave, and occasionally praised it. Soon after, meeting him. 
 Cave said, 'You made a man very happy t'other day.' 'How could 
 that be,' says Harte; 'nobody was there but ourselves.' Cave answered, 
 by reminding him that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, 
 which was to Johnson, dressed so shabbily, that he did not choose to 
 appear; but on hearing the conversation, was highly delighted with 
 the encomiums on his book. MA LONE.
 
 38 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [174* 
 
 wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the Life of 
 Savage at a sitting; but then I sat up all night.' 
 
 It is remarkable, that in this biographical disquisition 
 there appears a very strong symptom of Johnson's prejudice 
 against players; a prejudice which may be attributed to the 
 following causes: first, the imperfection of his organs, which 
 were so defective that he was not susceptible of the fine 
 impressions which theatrical excellence produces upon the 
 generality of mankind; secondly, the cold rejection of his 
 tragedy; and, lastly, the brilliant success of Garrick, who 
 had been his pupil, who had come to London at the same 
 time with him, not in a much more prosperous state than 
 himself, and whose talents he undoubtedly rated low, com- 
 pared with his own. His being outstripped by his pupil in 
 the race of immediate fame, as well as of fortune, probably 
 made him feel some indignation, as thinking that whatever 
 might be Garrick's merits in his art, the reward was too great 
 when compared with what the most successful efforts of 
 literary labour could attain. At ah 1 periods of his life John- 
 son used to talk contemptuously of players; but in this work 
 he speaks of them with peculiar acrimony; for which, per- 
 haps, there was formerly too much reason from the licentious 
 and dissolute manners of those engaged in that profession. 
 It is but justice to add, that in our own time such a change 
 has taken place, that there is no longer room for such an 
 unfavourable distinction. 
 
 His schoolfellow and friend, Dr. Taylor, told me a pleasant 
 anecdote of Johnson's triumphing over his pupil David 
 Garrick. When that great actor had played some little tune 
 at Goodman's fields, Johnson and Taylor went to see him 
 perform, and afterwards passed the evening at a tavern with 
 him and old Giffard. Johnson, who was ever depreciating 
 stage-players, after censuring some mistakes in emphasis 
 which Garrick had committed in the course of that night's 
 acting, said, 'The players, Sir, have got a kind of rant, with 
 which they run on, without any regard either to accent or 
 emphasis.' Both Garrick and Giffard were offended at this 
 sarcasm, and endeavoured to refute it; upon which Johnson 
 rejoined, 'Well now, I'll give you something to speak, with
 
 1746] THE REBELLION OF 1745 39 
 
 which you are little acquainted, and then we shall see how 
 just my observation is. That shall be the criterion. Let me 
 hear you repeat the ninth Commandment, "Thou shalt not 
 bear false witness against thy neighbour." ' Both tried at it, 
 said Dr. Taylor, and both mistook the emphasis, which 
 should be upon not and false witness. Johnson put them 
 right, and enjoyed his victory with great glee. 
 
 Johnson's partiality for Savage made him entertain no 
 doubt of his story, however extraordinary and improbable. 
 It never occurred to him to question his being the son of the 
 Countess of Macclesfield, of whose unrelenting barbarity he 
 so loudly complained, and the particulars of which are re- 
 lated in so strong and affecting a manner in Johnson's life 
 of him. Johnson was certainly well warranted in publishing 
 his narrative, however offensive it might be to the lady and 
 her relations, because her alledged unnatural and cruel con- 
 duct to her son, and shameful avowal of guilt, were stated 
 in a Life of Savage now lying before me, which came out so 
 early as 1727, and no attempt had been made to confute it, 
 or to punish the authour or printer as a libeller: but for the 
 honour of human nature, we should be glad to find the 
 shocking tale not true; and, from a respectable gentleman 
 connected with the lady's family, I have received such in- 
 formation and remarks, as joined to my own inquiries, will, 
 I think, render it at least somewhat doubtful, especially 
 when we consider that it must have originated from the 
 person himself who went by the name of Richard Savage. 
 
 1746: JETAT. 37.] IT is somewhat curious, that his literary 
 career appears to have been almost totally suspended in the 
 years 1745 and 1746, those years which were marked by a 
 civil war in Great-Britain, when a rash attempt was made 
 to restore the House of Stuart to the throne. That he had 
 a tenderness for that unfortunate House, is well known ; and 
 some may fancifully imagine, that a sympathetick anxiety 
 impeded the exertion of his intellectual powers: but I am 
 inclined to think, that he was, during this time, sketching the 
 outlines of his great philological work. 
 
 1747: ,ETAT. 38.] THIS year his old pupil and friend, 
 David Garrick, having become joint patentee and manager
 
 40 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1747 
 
 of Drury-lane theatre, Johnson honoured his opening of it 
 with a Prologue, which for just and manly dramatick criti- 
 cism, on the whole range of the English stage, as well as 
 for poetical excellence, is unrivalled. Like the celebrated 
 Epilogue to the Distressed Mother, it was, during the season, 
 often called for by the audience. 
 
 But the year 1747 is distinguished as the epoch, when 
 Johnson's arduous and important work, his DICTIONARY OF 
 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, was announced to the world, by 
 the publication of its Plan or Prospectus. 
 
 How long this immense undertaking had been the object 
 of his contemplation, I do not know. I once asked him by 
 what means he had attained to that astonishing knowledge 
 of our language, by which he was enabled to realise a design 
 of such extent, and accumulated difficulty. He told me, 
 that 'it was not the effect of particular study; but that it 
 had grown up in his mind insensibly.' I have been informed 
 by Mr. James Dodsley, that several years before this period, 
 when Johnson was one day sitting in his brother Robert's 
 shop, he heard his brother suggest to him, that a Dictionary 
 of the English Language would be a work that would be well 
 received by the publick; that Johnson seemed at first to 
 catch at the proposition, but, after a pause, said, in his 
 abrupt decisive manner, 'I believe I shall not undertake it.' 
 That he, however, had bestowed much thought upon the 
 subject, before he published his Plan, is evident from the 
 enlarged, clear, and accurate views which it exhibits; and 
 we find him mentioning in that tract, that many of the 
 writers whose testimonies were to be produced as authori- 
 ties, were selected by Pope; which proves that he had been 
 furnished, probably by Mr. Robert Dodsley, with whatever 
 hints that eminent poet had contributed towards a great 
 literary project, that had been the subject of important con- 
 sideration in a former reign. 
 
 The booksellers who contracted with Johnson, single and 
 unaided, for the execution of a work, which in other coun- 
 tries has not been effected but by the co-operating exertions 
 of many, were Mr. Robert Dodsley, Mr. Charles Hitch, Mr. 
 Andrew Millar, the two Messieurs Longman, and the two
 
 1747) ADDRESS TO LORD CHESTERFIELD 41 
 
 Messieurs Knapton. The price stipulated was fifteen hun- 
 dred and seventy-five pounds. 
 
 The Plan was addressed to Philip Dormer, Earl of Chester- 
 field, then one of his Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State; 
 a nobleman who was very ambitious of literary distinction, 
 and who, upon being informed of the design, had expressed 
 himself in terms very favourable to its success. There is, 
 perhaps in every thing of any consequence, a secret history 
 which it would be amusing to know, could we have it authen- 
 tically communicated. Johnson told me, 'Sir, the way in 
 which the Plan of my Dictionary came to be inscribed to 
 Lord Chesterfield, was this: I had neglected to write it by 
 the time appointed. Dodsley suggested a desire to have it 
 addressed to Lord Chesterfield. I laid hold of this as a pre- 
 text for delay, that it might be better done, and let Dodsley 
 have his desire. I said to my friend, Dr. Bathurst, "Now if 
 any good comes of my addressing to Lord Chesterfield, it 
 will be ascribed to deep policy, when, in fact, it was only a 
 casual excuse for laziness.'" 
 
 Dr. Adams found him one day busy at his Dictionary, 
 when the following dialogue ensued. 'ADAMS. This is a 
 great work, Sir. How are you to get all the etymologies? 
 JOHNSON. Why, Sir, here is a shelf with Junius, and Skinner, 
 and others; and there is a Welch gentleman who has pub- 
 lished a collection of Welch proverbs, who will help me with 
 the Welch. ADAMS. But, Sir, how can you do this in three 
 years? JOHNSON. Sir, I have no doubt that I can do it in 
 three years. ADAMS. But the French Academy, which con- 
 sists of forty members, took forty years to compile their 
 Dictionary. JOHNSON. Sir, thus it is. This is the propor- 
 tion. Let me see; forty times forty is sixteen hundred. As 
 three to sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an English- 
 man to a Frenchman.' With so much ease and pleasantry 
 could he talk of that prodigious labour which he had under- 
 taken to execute. 
 
 For the mechanical part he employed, as he told me, six 
 amanuenses; and let it be remembered by the natives of 
 North-Britain, to whom he is supposed to have been so 
 hostile, that five of them were of that country. There were
 
 42 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1748 
 
 two Messieurs Macbean; Mr. Shiels, who we shall hereafter 
 see partly wrote the Lives of the Poets to which the name of 
 Gibber is affixed; Mr. Stewart, son of Mr. George Stewart, 
 bookseller at Edinburgh; and a Mr. Maitland. The sixth 
 of these humble assistants was Mr. Peyton, who, I believe, 
 taught French, and published some elementary tracts. 
 
 To all these painful labourers, Johnson shewed a never- 
 ceasing kindness, so far as they stood in need of it. The 
 elder Mr. Macbean had afterwards the honour of being Li- 
 brarian to Archibald, Duke of Argyle, for many years, but 
 was left without a shilling. Johnson wrote for him a Preface 
 to A System of Ancient Geography; and, by the favour of 
 Lord Thurlow, got him admitted a poor brother of the Char- 
 terhouse. For Shiels, who died of a consumption, he had 
 much tenderness; and it has been thought that some choice 
 sentences in the Lives of the Poets were supplied by him. 
 Peyton, when reduced to penury, had frequent aid from the 
 bounty of Johnson, who at last was at the expense of bury- 
 ing both him and his wife. 
 
 While the Dictionary was going forward, Johnson lived part 
 of the time in Holborn, part in Gough-square, Fleet-street; 
 and he had an upper room fitted up like a counting-house 
 for the purpose, in which he gave to the copyists their several 
 tasks. The words, partly taken from other dictionaries, 
 and partly supplied by himself, having been first written 
 down with spaces left between them, he delivered in writing 
 their etymologies, definitions, and various significations. 
 The authorities were copied from the books themselves, in 
 which he had marked the passages with a black-lead pencil, 
 the traces of which could easily be effaced. I have seen 
 several of them, in which that trouble had not been taken; 
 so that they were just as when used by the copyists. It is 
 remarkable, that he was so attentive in the choice of the pas- 
 sages in which words were authorised, that one may read 
 page after page of his Dictionary with improvement and 
 pleasure; and it should not pass unobserved, that he has 
 quoted no authour whose writings had a tendency to hurt 
 sound religion and morality. 
 
 The necessary expense of preparing a work of such magni- 
 tude for the press, must have been a considerable deduction
 
 1749] THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES 43 
 
 from the price stipulated to be paid for the copy-right. I 
 understand that nothing was allowed by the booksellers on 
 that account; and I remember his telling me, that a large 
 portion of it having by mistake been written upon both sides 
 of the paper, so as to be inconvenient for the compositor, 
 it cost him twenty pounds to have it transcribed upon one 
 side only. 
 
 He is now to be considered as 'tugging at his oar,' as 
 engaged in a steady continued course of occupation, sufficient 
 to employ all his time for some years; and which was the 
 best preventive of that constitutional melancholy which was 
 ever lurking about him, ready to trouble his quiet. But his 
 enlarged and lively mind could not be satisfied without more 
 diversity of employment, and the pleasure of animated re- 
 laxation. He therefore not only exerted his talents in occa- 
 sional composition very different from Lexicography, but 
 formed a club in Ivy-lane, Paternoster-row, with a view to 
 enjoy literary discussion, and amuse his evening hours. The 
 members associated with him in this little society were his 
 beloved friend Dr. Richard Bat hurst, Mr. Hawkesworth, 
 afterwards well known by his writings, Mr. John Hawkins, 
 an attorney, and a few others of different professions. 
 
 1749: ,ETAT. 40.] IN January, 1749, he published The 
 Vanity of Human Wishes, being the Tenth Satire of Juvenal 
 imitated. He, I believe, composed it the preceding year. 
 Mrs. Johnson, for the sake of country air, had lodgings at 
 Hampstead, to which he resorted occasionally, and there the 
 greatest part, if not the whole, of this Imitation was written. 
 The fervid rapidity with which it was produced, is scarcely 
 credible. I have heard him say, that he composed seventy 
 lines of it in one day, without putting one of them upon 
 paper till they were finished. I remember when I once 
 regretted to him that he had not given us more of Juvenal's 
 Satires, he said he probably should give more, for he had 
 them all in his head; by which I understood that he had the 
 originals and correspondent allusions floating in his mind, 
 which he could, when he pleased, embody and render per- 
 manent without much labour. Some of them, however, he 
 observed were too gross for imitation. 
 
 The profits of a single poem, however excellent, appear to
 
 44 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1749 
 
 have been very small in the last reign, compared with what 
 a publication of the same size has since been known to yield. 
 I have mentioned, upon Johnson's own authority, that for 
 his London he had only ten guineas; and now, after his fame 
 was established, he got for his Vanity of Human Wishes but 
 five guineas more, as is proved by an authentick document 
 in my possession. 
 
 His Vanity of Human Wishes has less of common life, but 
 more of a philosophick dignity than his London. More 
 readers, therefore, will be delighted with the pointed spirit 
 of London, than with the profound reflection of The Vanity 
 of Human Wishes. Garrick, for instance, observed in his 
 sprightly manner, with more vivacity than regard to just 
 discrimination, as is usual with wits: 'When Johnson lived 
 much with the Herveys, and saw a good deal of what was 
 passing in life, he wrote his London, which is lively and easy. 
 When he became more retired, he gave us his Vanity of 
 Human Wishes, which is as hard as Greek. Had he gone on 
 to imitate another satire, it would have been as hard as 
 Hebrew.' 
 
 Garrick being now vested with theatrical power by being 
 manager of Drury-lane theatre, he kindly and generously 
 made use of it to bring out Johnson's tragedy, which had 
 been long kept back for want of encouragement. But in this 
 benevolent purpose he met with no small difficulty from the 
 temper of Johnson, which could not brook that a drama 
 which he had formed with much study, and had been obliged 
 to keep more than the nine years of Horace, should be re- 
 vised and altered at the pleasure of an actor. Yet Garrick 
 knew well, that without some alterations it would not be fit for 
 the stage. A violent dispute having ensued between them, 
 Garrick applied to the Reverend Dr. Taylor to interpose. 
 Johnson was at first very obstinate. ' Sir, (said he) the fellow 
 wants me to make Mahomet run mad, that he may have 
 an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels.' 
 He was, however, at last, with difficulty, prevailed on to 
 comply with Garrick's wishes, so as to allow of some changes; 
 but still there were not enough. 
 
 Dr. Adams was present the first night of the representa-
 
 17491 THE RECEPTION OF IRENE 45 
 
 tion of Irene, and gave me the following account: 'Before 
 the curtain drew up, there were catcalls whistling, which 
 alarmed Johnson's friends. The Prologue, which was written 
 by himself in a manly strain, soothed the audience, and the 
 play went off tolerably, till it came to the conclusion, when 
 Mrs. Pritchard, the heroine of the piece, was to be strangled 
 upon the stage, and was to speak two lines with the bow- 
 string round her neck. The audience cried out "Murder! 
 Murder! " She several times attempted to speak; but in 
 vain. At last she was obliged to go off the stage alive.' 
 This passage was afterwards struck out, and she was car- 
 ried off to be put to death behind the scenes, as the play 
 now has it. The Epilogue, as Johnson informed me, was 
 written by Sir William Yonge. I know not how his play 
 came to be thus graced by the pen of a person then so emi- 
 nent in the political world. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the support of such performers as 
 Garrick, Barry, Mrs. Gibber, Mrs. Pritchard, and every ad- 
 vantage of dress and decoration, the tragedy of Irene did not 
 please the publick. Mr. Garrick's zeal carried it through 
 for nine nights, so that the authour had his three nights' 
 profits; and from a receipt signed by him, now in the hands 
 of Mr. James Dodsley, it appears that his friend Mr. Robert 
 Dodsley gave him one hundred pounds for the copy, with his 
 usual reservation of the right of one edition. 
 
 When asked how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, 
 he replied, 'Like the Monument;' meaning that he continued 
 firm and unmoved as that column. And let it be remem- 
 bered, as an admonition to the genus irritabile of dramatick 
 writers, that this great man, instead of peevishly complain- 
 ing of the bad taste of the town, submitted to its decision 
 without a murmur. He had, indeed, upon all occasions, a 
 great deference for the general opinion: 'A man (said he) 
 who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the 
 rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse 
 them, and the publick to whom he appeals, must, after all, 
 be the judges of his pretensions.' 
 
 On occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, 
 Johnson had a fancy that as a dramatick authour his dress
 
 46 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1750 
 
 should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore; he there- 
 fore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side 
 boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold- 
 laced hat. He humourously observed to Mr. Langton, ' that 
 when in that dress he could not treat people with the same 
 ease as when in his usual plain clothes.' Dress indeed, we 
 must allow, has more effect even upon strong minds than one 
 should suppose, without having had the experience of it. 
 His necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and 
 during its performance, brought him acquainted with many 
 of the performers of both sexes, which produced a more 
 favourable opinion of their profession than he had harshly 
 expressed in his Life of Savage. With some of them he kept 
 up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was 
 ever ready to shew them acts of kindness. He for a con- 
 siderable tune used to frequent the Green Room, and seemed 
 to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the 
 sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there. 
 Mr. David Hume related to me from Mr. Garrick, that John- 
 son at last denied himself this amusement, from considera- 
 tions of rigid virtue; saying, 'I'll come no more behind your 
 scenes, David; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of 
 your actresses excite my amorous propensities.' 
 
 1750: ^ETAT. 41.] IN 1750 he came forth in the character 
 for which he was eminently qualified, a majestick teacher of 
 moral and religious wisdom. The vehicle which he chose 
 was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had been, 
 upon former occasions, employed with great success. The 
 Toiler, Spectator, and Guardian, were the last of the kind 
 published in England, which had stood the test of a long trial; 
 and such an interval had now elapsed since their publication, 
 as made him justly think that, to many of his readers, this 
 form of instruction would, in some degree, have the advan- 
 tage of novelty. A few days before the first of his Essays 
 came out, there started another competitor for fame in the 
 same form, under the title of The Taller Revived, which I 
 believe was 'born but to die.' Johnson was, I think, not very 
 happy in the choice of his title, The Rambler, which certainly 
 is not suited to a series of grave and moral discourses ; which
 
 1750] THE RAMBLER 47 
 
 the Italians have literally, but ludicrously translated by 11 
 Vagabondo; and which has been lately assumed as the 
 denomination of a vehicle of licentious tales, The Rambler's 
 Magazine. He gave Sir Joshua Reynolds the following ac- 
 count of its getting this name: 'What must be done, Sir, 
 will be done. When I was to begin publishing that paper, 
 I was at a loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon 
 my bedside, and resolved that I would not go to sleep till 
 I had fixed its title. The Rambler seemed the best that oc- 
 curred, and I took it.' 
 
 With what devout and conscientious sentiments this paper 
 was undertaken, is evidenced by the following prayer, which 
 he composed and offered up on the occasion: 'Almighty 
 GOD, the giver of all good things, without whose help all 
 labour is ineffectual, and without whose grace all wisdom is 
 folly; grant, I beseech Thee, that in this undertaking thy 
 Holy Spirit may not be with-held from me, but that I may 
 promote thy glory, and the salvation of myself and others: 
 grant this, LORD, for the sake of thy son JESUS CHRIST, 
 Amen.' 
 
 The first paper of The Rambler was published on Tuesday 
 the 20th of March, 1750; and its authour was enabled to 
 continue it, without interruption, every Tuesday and Friday, 
 till Saturday the 17th of March, 1752, on which day it closed. 
 This is a strong confirmation of the truth of a remark of 
 his, which I have had occasion to quote elsewhere, that 'a 
 man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly 
 to it;' for, notwithstanding his constitutional indolence, his 
 depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his Dic- 
 tionary, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a 
 week from the stores of his mind, during all that time. 
 
 Posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the 
 authority of Johnson himself, that many of these discourses, 
 which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow 
 attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the 
 moment pressed, without even being read over by him before 
 they were printed. It can be accounted for only in this way; 
 that by reading and meditation, and a very close inspection 
 of life, he had accumulated a great fund of miscellaneous
 
 48 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1750 
 
 knowledge, which, by a peculiar promptitude of mind, was 
 ever ready at his call, and which he had constantly accus- 
 tomed himself to clothe in the most apt and energetick 
 expression. Sir Joshua Reynolds once asked him by what 
 means he had attained his extraordinary accuracy and flow 
 of language. He told him, that he had early laid it down as 
 a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in every 
 company; to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible 
 language he could put it in; and that by constant practice, 
 and never suffering any careless expressions to escape him, 
 or attempting to deliver his thoughts without arranging 
 them in the clearest manner, it became habitual to him. 
 
 As The Rambler was entirely the work of one man, there 
 was, of course, such a uniformity in its texture, as very much 
 to exclude the charm of variety; and the grave and often 
 solemn cast of thinking, which distinguished it from other 
 periodical papers, made it, for some time, not generally liked. 
 So slowly did this excellent work, of which twelve editions 
 have now issued from the press, gain upon the world at large, 
 that even in the closing number the authour says, 'I have 
 never been much a favourite of the publick.' 
 
 Johnson told me, with an amiable fondness, a little pleas- 
 ing circumstance relative to this work. Mrs. Johnson, in 
 whose judgement and taste he had great confidence, said to 
 him, after a few numbers of The Rambler had come out, 
 'I thought very well of you before; but I did not imagine 
 you could have written any thing equal to this.' Distant 
 praise, from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as that of 
 a wife whom a man loves and esteems. Her approbation 
 may be said to 'come home to his bosom;' and being so 
 near, its effect is most sensible and permanent. 
 
 Mr. James Elphinston, who has since published various 
 works, and who was ever esteemed by Johnson as a worthy 
 man, happened to be in Scotland while The Rambler was 
 coming out in single papers at London. With a laudable 
 zeal at once for the improvement of his countrymen, and the 
 reputation of his friend, he suggested and took the charge 
 of an edition of those Essays at Edinburgh, which followed 
 progressively the London publication.
 
 1750) LETTER TO MR. ELPHINSTON 49 
 
 This year he wrote to the same gentleman upon a mourn- 
 ful occasion. 
 
 'To MR. JAMES ELPHINSTON. 
 
 September 25, 1750. 
 
 ' DEAR SIR, You have, as I find by every kind of evidence, 
 lost an excellent mother; and I hope you will not think me 
 incapable of partaking of your grief. I have a mother, now 
 eighty-two years of age, whom, therefore, I must soon lose, 
 unless it please GOD that she rather should mourn for me. I 
 read the letters in which you relate your mother's death to 
 Mrs. Strahan, and think I do myself honour, when I tell you 
 that I read them with tears; but tears are neither to you 
 nor to me of any further use, when once the tribute of nature 
 has been paid. The business of life summons us away from 
 useless grief, and calls us to the exercise of those virtues of 
 which we are lamenting our deprivation. The greatest bene- 
 fit which one friend can confer upon another, is to guard, 
 and excite, and elevate his virtues. This your mother will 
 still perform, if you diligently preserve the memory of her 
 life, and of her death: a life, so far as I can learn, useful, 
 wise, and innocent; and a death resigned, peaceful, and holy. 
 I cannot forbear to mention, that neither reason nor revela- 
 tion denies you to hope, that you may increase her happiness 
 by obeying her precepts; and that she may, in her present 
 state, look with pleasure upon every act of virtue to which 
 her instructions or example have contributed. Whether this 
 be more than a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of separate 
 spirits, is, indeed, of no great importance to us, when we 
 consider ourselves as acting under the eye of GOD: yet, 
 surely, there is something pleasing in the belief, that our 
 separation from those whom we love is merely corporeal; 
 and it may be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if 
 it can be made probable, that that union that has received 
 the divine approbation shall continue to eternity. 
 
 'There is one expedient by which you may, in some de- 
 gree, continue her presence. If you write down minutely 
 what you remember of her from your earliest years, you will
 
 50 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1750 
 
 read it with* great pleasure, and receive from it many hints 
 of soothing recollection, when time shall remove her yet 
 farther from you, and your grief shall be matured to venera- 
 tion. To this, however painful for the present, I cannot 
 but advise you, as to a source of comfort and satisfaction 
 in the time to come; for all comfort and all satisfaction is 
 sincerely wished you by, dear Sir, your most obliged, most 
 obedient, and most humble servant, 
 
 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 The Rambler has increased in fame as in age. Soon after 
 its first folio edition was concluded, it was published in six 
 duodecimo volumes; and its authour lived to see ten numer- 
 ous editions of it in London, beside those of Ireland and 
 Scotland. 
 
 The style of Johnson was, undoubtedly, much formed upon 
 that of the great writers in the last century, Hooker, Bacon, 
 Sanderson, Hakewell, and others; those ' GIANTS,' as they 
 were well characterised by A GREAT PERSONAGE, whose au- 
 thority, were I to name him, would stamp a reverence on 
 the opinion. 
 
 Johnson assured me, that he had not taken upon him to 
 add more than four or five words to the English language, 
 of his own formation ; and he was very much offended at the 
 general licence, by no means 'modestly taken' in his time, 
 not only to coin new words, but to use many words in senses 
 quite different from their established meaning, and those 
 frequently very fantastical. 
 
 Sir Thomas Brown, whose life Johnson wrote, was remark- 
 ably fond of Anglo-Latin diction; and to his example we 
 are to ascribe Johnson's sometimes indulging himself in this 
 kind of phraseology. Johnson's comprehension of mind was 
 the mould for his language. Had his conceptions been nar- 
 rower, his expression would have been easier. His sentences 
 have a dignified march; and, it is certain, that his example 
 has given a general elevation to the language of his country, 
 for many of our best writers have approached very near to 
 him; and, from the influence which he has had upon our 
 composition, scarcely any thing is written now that is not
 
 17511 MRS. ANNA WILLIAMS 51 
 
 better expressed than was usual before he appeared to lead 
 the national taste. 
 
 Though The Rambler was not concluded till the year 1752, 
 I shall, under this year, say all that I have to observe upon 
 it. Some of the translations of the mottos by himself are 
 admirably done. He acknowledges to have received 'elegant 
 translations' of many of them from Mr. James Elphinston; 
 and some are very happily translated by a Mr. F. Leuris, of 
 whom I never heard more, except that Johnson thus de- 
 scribed him to Mr. Malone: 'Sir, he lived in London, and 
 hung loose upon society.' 
 
 His just abhorrence of Milton's political notions was ever 
 strong. But this did not prevent his warm admiration of 
 Milton's great poetical merit, to which he has done illustrious 
 justice, beyond all who have written upon the subject. And 
 this year he not only wrote a Prologue, which was spoken by 
 Mr. Garrick before the acting of C omits at Drury-lane theatre, 
 for the benefit of Milton's grand-daughter, but took a very 
 zealous interest in the success of the charity. 
 
 1751 : ^ETAT. 42.] IN 1751 we are to consider him as car- 
 rying on both his Dictionary and Rambler. 
 
 Though Johnson's circumstances were at this time far from 
 being easy, his humane and charitable disposition was con- 
 stantly exerting itself. Mrs. Anna Williams', daughter of a 
 very ingenious Welsh physician, and a woman of more than 
 ordinary talents and literature, having come to London in 
 hopes of being cured of a cataract in both her eyes, which 
 afterwards ended in total blindness, was kindly received as 
 a constant visitor at his house while Mrs. Johnson lived; and 
 after her death, having come under his roof in order to have 
 an operation upon her eyes performed with more comfort to 
 her than in lodgings, she had an apartment from him during 
 the rest of her life, at all times when he had a house. 
 
 1752: .ETAT. 43.] Ix 1752 he was almost entirely occu- 
 pied with his Dictionary. The last paper of his Rambler was 
 published March 2, this year; after which, there was a cessa- 
 tion for some time of any exertion of his talents as an essay- 
 ist. But, in the same year, Dr. Hawkesworth, who was his 
 warm admirer, and a studious imitator of his style, and then
 
 52 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1752 
 
 lived in great intimacy with him, began a periodical paper, 
 entitled The Adventurer, in connection with other gentlemen, 
 one of whom was Johnson's much-beloved friend, Dr. Bath- 
 urst; and, without doubt, they received many valuable hints 
 from his conversation, most of his friends having been so 
 assisted in the course of their works. 
 
 That there should be a suspension of his literary labours 
 during a part of the year 1752, will not seem strange, when it 
 is considered that soon after closing his Rambler, he suffered 
 a loss which, there can be no doubt, affected him with the 
 deepest distress. For on the 17th of March, O.S., his wife 
 died. 
 
 The following very solemn and affecting prayer was found 
 after Dr. Johnson's decease, by his servant, Mr. Francis 
 Barber, who delivered it to my worthy friend the Reverend 
 Mr. Strahan, Vicar of Islington, who at my earnest request 
 has obligingly favoured me with a copy of it, which he and 
 I compared with the original: 
 
 'April 26, 1752, being after 12 at Night of the 25th. 
 ' Lord ! Governour of heaven and earth, in whose hands 
 are embodied and departed Spirits, if thou hast ordained the 
 Souls of the Dead to minister to the Living, and appointed 
 my departed Wife to have care of me, grant that I may enjoy 
 the good effects of her attention and ministration, whether 
 exercised by appearance, impulses, dreams or in any other 
 manner agreeable to thy Government. Forgive my presump- 
 tion, enlighten my ignorance, and however meaner agents 
 are employed, grant me the blessed influences of thy holy 
 Spirit, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.' 
 
 That his love for his wife was of the most ardent kind, 
 and, during the long period of fifty years, was unimpaired 
 by the lapse of time, is evident from various passages in the 
 series of his Prayers and Meditations, published by the 
 Reverend Mr. Strahan, as well as from other memorials, two 
 of which I select, as strongly marking the tenderness and 
 sensibility Of his mind. 
 
 'March 28, 1753. I kept this day as the anniversary of
 
 1753] DEATH OF JOHNSON'S WIFE 53 
 
 my Tetty's death, with prayer and tears in the morning. 
 In the evening I prayed for her conditionally, if it were 
 lawful.' 
 
 'April 23, 1753. I know not whether I do not too much 
 indulge the vain longings of affection; but I hope they 
 intenerate my heart, and that when I die like my Tetty, 
 this affection will be acknowledged in a happy interview, 
 and that in the mean time I am incited by it to piety. I 
 will, however, not deviate too much from common and re- 
 ceived methods of devotion.' 
 
 Her wedding-ring, when she became his wife, was, after 
 her death, preserved by him, as long as he lived, with an 
 affectionate care, in a little round wooden box, in the inside 
 of which he pasted a slip of paper, thus inscribed by him 
 in fair characters, as follows: 
 
 'Eheu! 
 
 Eliz. Johnson, 
 
 Nupta Jul. 9 1736, 
 
 Mortua, eheu ! 
 
 Mart. 17 1752.' 
 
 After his death, Mr. Francis Barber, his faithful servant 
 and residuary legatee, offered this memorial of tenderness to 
 Mrs. Lucy Porter, Mrs. Johnson's daughter; but she having 
 declined to accept of it, he had it enamelled as a mourning 
 ring for his old master, and presented it to his wife, Mrs. 
 Barber, who now has it. 
 
 I have, indeed, been told by Mrs. Desmoulins, who, before 
 her marriage, lived for some time with Mrs. Johnson at 
 Hampstead, that she indulged herself in country air and nice 
 living, at an unsuitable expense, while her husband was 
 drudging in the smoke of London, and that she by no means 
 treated him with that complacency which is the most en- 
 gaging quality in a wife. But all this is perfectly compati- 
 ble with his fondness for her, especially when it is remem- 
 bered that he had a high opinion of her understanding, and 
 that the impressions which her l>eauty, real or imaginary, 
 had originally made upon his fancy, being continued by
 
 54 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1752 
 
 habit, had not been effaced, though she herself was doubtless 
 much altered for the worse. The dreadful shock of separa- 
 tion took place in the night; and he immediately dispatched 
 a letter to his friend, the Reverend Dr. Taylor, which, as 
 Taylor told me, expressed grief in the strongest manner he 
 had ever read; so that it is much to be regretted it has not 
 been preserved. The letter was brought to Dr. Taylor, at 
 his house in the Cloisters, Westminster, about three in the 
 morning; and as it signified an earnest desire to see him, he 
 got up, and went to Johnson as soon as he was dressed, and 
 found him in tears and in extreme agitation. After being 
 a little while together, Johnson requested him to join with 
 him in prayer. He then prayed extempore, as did Dr. Tay- 
 lor; and thus, by means of that piety which was ever his 
 primary object, his troubled mind was, in some degree, 
 soothed and composed. 
 
 The next day he wrote as follows: 
 
 'To THE REVEREND DR. TAYLOR. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, Let me have your company and instruction. 
 Do not live away from me. My distress is great. 
 
 'Pray desire Mrs. Taylor to inform me what mourning 
 I should buy for my mother and Miss Porter, and bring a 
 note in writing with you. 
 
 'Remember me in your prayers, for vain is the help of 
 man. I am, dear Sir, &c. 
 
 'March 18, 1752.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 That his sufferings upon the death of his wife were severe, 
 beyond what are commonly endured, I have no doubt, from 
 the information of many who were then about him, to none 
 of whom I give more credit than to Mr. Francis Barber, his 
 faithful negro servant, who came into his family about a 
 fortnight after the dismal event. These sufferings were ag- 
 gravated by the melancholy inherent in his constitution; 
 and although he probably was not oftener in the wrong than 
 she was, in the little disagreements which sometimes troubled 
 his married state, during which, he owned to me, that the
 
 1752] PRAYERS FOR THE DEAD 55 
 
 gloomy irritability of his existence was more painful to him 
 than ever, he might very naturally, after her death, be ten- 
 derly disposed to charge himself with slight omissions and 
 offences, the sense of which would give him much uneasi- 
 ness. Accordingly we find, about a year after her decease, 
 that he thus addressed the Supreme Being: 'O LORD, who 
 givest the grace of repentance, and hearest the prayers of 
 the penitent, grant that by true contrition I may obtain 
 forgiveness of all the sins committed, and of all duties neg- 
 lected in my union with the wife whom thou hast taken 
 from me; for the neglect of joint devotion, patient exhor- 
 tation, and mild instruction.' The kindness of his heart, 
 notwithstanding the impetuosity of his temper, is well known 
 to his friends; and I cannot trace the smallest foundation 
 for the following dark and uncharitable assertion by Sir John 
 Hawkins: 'The apparition of his departed wife was alto- 
 gether of the terrifick kind, and hardly afforded him a hope 
 that she was in a state of happiness.' That he, in con- 
 formity with the opinion of many of the most able, learned, 
 and pious Christians in all ages, supposed that there was 
 a middle state after death, previous to the time at which 
 departed souls are finally received to eternal felicity, appears, 
 I think, unquestionably from his devotions: 'And, LORD, 
 so far as it may be lawful in me, I commend to thy fatherly 
 goodness the soul of my departed wife; beseeching thee to 
 grant her whatever is best in her present state, and finally to 
 receive her to eternal happiness.' But this state has not been 
 looked upon with horrour, but only as less gracious. 
 
 He deposited the remains of Mrs. Johnson in the church 
 of Bromley, in Kent, to which he was probably led by the 
 residence of his friend Hawkesworth at that place. The 
 funeral sermon which he composed for her, which was never 
 preached, but having been given to Dr. Taylor, has been 
 published since his death, is a performance of uncommon 
 excellence, and full of rational and pious comfort to such as 
 are depressed by that severe affliction which Johnson felt 
 when he wrote it. When it is considered that it was written 
 in such an agitation of mind, and in the short interval be- 
 tween her death and burial, it cannot be read without wonder.
 
 56 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1752 
 
 From Mr. Francis Barber I have had the following authen- 
 tick and artless account of the situation in which he found 
 him recently after his wife's death: 
 
 'He was in great affliction. Mrs. Williams was then liv- 
 ing in his house, which was in Gough-square. He was busy 
 with the Dictionary. Mr. Shiels, and some others of the 
 gentlemen who had formerly written for him, used to come 
 about him. He had then little for himself, but frequently 
 sent money to Mr. Shiels when in distress. The friends who 
 visited him at that time, were chiefly Dr. Bathurst, and Mr. 
 Diamond, an apothecary in Cork-street, Burlington-gardens, 
 with whom he and Mrs. Williams generally dined every 
 Sunday. There was a talk of his going to Iceland with him, 
 which would probably have happened had he lived. There 
 were also Mr. Cave, Dr. Hawkesworth, Mr. Ryland, mer- 
 chant on Tower Hill, Mrs. Masters, the poetess, who lived 
 with Mr. Cave, Mrs. Carter, and sometimes Mrs. Macaulay, 
 also Mrs. Gardiner, wife of a tallow-chandler on Snow-hill, 
 not in the learned way, but a worthy good woman; Mr. (now 
 Sir Joshua) Reynolds; Mr. Millar, Mr. Dodsley, Mr. Bouquet, 
 Mr. Payne of Paternoster-row, booksellers; Mr. Strahan, the 
 printer; the Earl of Orrery, Lord Southwell, Mr. Garrick.' 
 
 Many are, no doubt, omitted in this catalogue of his 
 friends, and, in particular, his humble friend Mr. Robert 
 Levet, an obscure practiser in physick amongst the lower 
 people, his fees being sometimes very small sums, some- 
 times whatever provisions his patients could afford him ; but 
 of such extensive practice in that way, that Mrs. Williams 
 has told me, his walk was from Hounsditch to Marybone. 
 It appears from Johnson's diary that their acquaintance 
 commenced about the year 1746; and such was Johnson's 
 predilection for him, and fanciful estimation of his moderate 
 abilities, that I have heard him say he should not be satisfied, 
 though attended by all the College of Physicians, unless he 
 had Mr. Levet with him. Ever since I was acquainted with 
 Dr. Johnson, and many years before, as I have been assured 
 by those who knew him earlier, Mr. Levet had an apartment 
 in his house, or his chambers, and waited upon him every 
 morning, through the whole course of his late and tedious
 
 1752] JOHNSON'S FRIENDS IN 1752 57 
 
 breakfast. He was of a strange grotesque appearance, stiff 
 and formal in his manner, and seldom said a word while 
 any company was present. 
 
 The circle of his friends, indeed, at this time was extensive 
 and various, far beyond what has been generally imagined. 
 To trace his acquaintance with each particular person, if 
 it could be done, would be a task, of which the labour 
 would not be repaid by the advantage. But exceptions are 
 to be made; one of which must be a friend so eminent as 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was truly his dulce decus, and with 
 whom he maintained an uninterrupted intimacy to the last 
 hour of his life. When Johnson lived in Castle-street, 
 Cavendish-square, he used frequently to visit two ladies, who 
 lived opposite to him, Miss Cotterells, daughters of Admiral 
 Cotterell. Reynolds used also to visit there, and thus they 
 met. Mr. Reynolds, as I have observed above, had, from 
 the first reading of his Life of Savage, conceived a very high 
 admiration of Johnson's powers of writing. His conversa- 
 tion no less delighted him; and he cultivated his acquain- 
 tance with the laudable zeal of one who was ambitious of 
 general improvement. Sir Joshua, indeed, was lucky enough 
 at their very first meeting to make a remark, which was so 
 much above the common-place style of conversation, that 
 Johnson at once perceived that Reynolds had the habit of 
 thinking for himself. The ladies were regretting the death 
 of a friend, to whom they owed great obligations; upon 
 which Reynolds observed, 'You have, however, the comfort 
 of being relieved from a burthen of gratitude.' They were 
 shocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, as too selfish; 
 but Johnson defended it in his clear and forcible manner, and 
 was much pleased with the mind, the fair view of human 
 nature, which it exhibited, like some of the reflections of 
 Rochefaucault. The consequence was, that he went home 
 with Reynolds, and supped with him. 
 
 Sir Joshua told me a pleasant characteristical anecdote of 
 Johnson about the time of their first acquaintance. When 
 they were one evening together at the Miss Cotterells', the 
 then Duchess of Argyle and another lady of high rank came 
 in. Johnson thinking that the Miss Cotterells were too
 
 58 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1752 
 
 much engrossed by them, and that he and his friend were 
 neglected, as low company of whom they were somewhat 
 ashamed, grew angry; and resolving to shock their supposed 
 pride, by making their great visitors imagine that his friend 
 and he were low indeed, he addressed himself in a loud tone 
 to Mr. Reynolds, saying, 'How much do you think you and 
 I could get in a week, if we were to work as hard as we could ? ' 
 as if they had been common mechanicks. 
 
 His acquaintance with Bennet Langton, Esq. of Langton, 
 in Lincolnshire, another much valued friend, commenced 
 soon after the conclusion of his Rambler; which that gentle- 
 man, then a youth, had read with so much admiration, that 
 he came to London chiefly with the view of endeavouring 
 to be introduced to its authour. By a fortunate chance he 
 happened to take lodgings in a house where Mr. Levet fre- 
 quently visited; and having mentioned his wish to his land- 
 lady, she introduced him to Mr. Levet, who readily obtained 
 Johnson's permission to bring Mr. Langton to him; as, 
 indeed, Johnson, during the whole course of his life, had no 
 shyness, real or affected, but was easy of access to all who 
 were properly recommended, and even wished to see num- 
 bers at his levee, as his morning circle of company might, 
 with strict propriety, be called. Mr. Langton was exceed- 
 ingly surprised when the sage first appeared. He had not 
 received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or man- 
 ner. From perusing his writings, he fancied he should see 
 a decent, well-drest, in short, remarkably decorous philos- 
 opher. Instead of which, down from his bed-chamber, about 
 noon, came, as newly risen, a huge uncouth figure, with a 
 little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his 
 clothes hanging loose about him. But his conversation was 
 so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and 
 political notions so congenial with those in which Langton 
 had been educated, that he conceived for him that venera- 
 tion and attachment which he ever preserved. Johnson was 
 not the less ready to love Mr. Langton, for his being of a 
 very ancient family; for I have heard him say, with pleasure, 
 'Langton, Sir, has a grant of free warren from Henry the 
 Second; and Cardinal Stephen Langton, in King John's 
 reign, was of this family.'
 
 17521 TOPHAM BEAUCLERK 59 
 
 Mr. Langton afterwards went to pursue his studies at 
 Trinity College, Oxford, where he formed an acquaintance 
 with his fellow student, Mr. Topham Beauclerk; who, 
 though their opinions and modes of life were so different, 
 that it seemed utterly improbable that they should at all 
 agree, had so ardent a love of literature, so acute an under- 
 standing, such elegance of manners, and so well discerned the 
 excellent qualities of Mr. Langton, a gentleman eminent not 
 only for worth and learning, but for an inexhaustible fund of 
 entertaining conversation, that they became intimate friends. 
 
 Johnson, soon after this acquaintance began, passed a 
 considerable time at Oxford. He at first thought it strange 
 that Langton should associate so much with one who had 
 the character of being loose, both in his principles and prac- 
 tice; but, by degrees, he himself was fascinated. Mr. 
 Beauclerk's being of the St. Alban's family, and having, 
 in some particulars, a resemblance to Charles the Second, 
 contributed, in Johnson's imagination, to throw a lustre 
 upon his other qualities; and, in a short time, the moral, 
 pious Johnson, and the gay, dissipated Beauclerk, were 
 companions. ' What a coalition ! (said Garrick, when he 
 heard of this;) I shall have my old friend to bail out of the 
 Round-house.' But I can bear testimony that it was a very 
 agreeable association. Beauclerk was too polite, and valued 
 learning and wit too much, to offend Johnson by sallies of 
 infidelity or licentiousness; and Johnson delighted in the 
 good qualities of Beauclerk, and hoped to correct the evil. 
 Innumerable were the scenes in which Johnson was amused 
 by these young men. Beauclerk could take more liberty 
 with him, than any body with whom I ever saw him; but, 
 on the other hand, Beauclerk was not spared by his respect- 
 able companion, when reproof was proper. Beauclerk had 
 such a propensity to satire, that at one time Johnson said 
 to him, 'You never open your mouth but with intention to 
 give pain; and you have often given me pain, not from the 
 power of what you said, but from seeing your intention.' 
 At another time applying to him, with a slight alteration, 
 a line of Pope, he said, 
 
 ' Thy love of folly, and thy scorn of fools
 
 60 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1752 
 
 Every thing thou dost shews the one, and every thing thou 
 say'st the other.' At another time he said to him, 'Thy 
 body is all vice, and thy mind all virtue.' Beauclerk not 
 seeming to relish the compliment, Johnson said, 'Nay, Sir, 
 Alexander the Great, marching in triumph into Babylon, 
 could not have desired to have had more said to him.' 
 
 Johnson was some time with Beauclerk at his house at 
 Windsor, where he was entertained with experiments in 
 natural philosophy. One Sunday, when the weather was 
 very fine, Beauclerk enticed him, insensibly, to saunter about 
 all the morning. They went into a church-yard, in the time 
 of divine service, and Johnson laid himself down at his ease 
 upon one of the tomb-stones. 'Now, Sir, (said Beauclerk) 
 you are like Hogarth's Idle Apprentice.' When Johnson got 
 his pension, Beauclerk said to him, in the humorous phrase 
 of Falstaff, 'I hope you'll now purge and live cleanly like a 
 gentleman.' 
 
 One night when Beauclerk and Langton had supped at 
 a tavern in London, and sat till about three in the morning, 
 it came into their heads to go and knock up Johnson, and 
 see if they could prevail on him to join them in a ramble. 
 They rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the 
 Temple, till at last he appeared in his shirt, with his little 
 black wig on the top of his head, instead of a nightcap, and 
 a poker in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruffians 
 were coming to attack him. When he discovered who they 
 were, and was told their errand, he smiled, and with great 
 good humour agreed to their proposal: 'What, is it you, you 
 dogs ! I'll have a frisk with you.' He was soon drest, and 
 they sallied forth together into Co vent-Garden, where the 
 greengrocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their 
 hampers, just come in from the country. Johnson made 
 some attempts to help them; but the honest gardeners stared 
 so at his figure and manner, and odd interference, that he 
 soon saw his services were not relished. They then repaired 
 to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of that 
 liquor called Bishop, which Johnson had always liked ; while 
 in joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, 
 he repeated the festive lines,
 
 1753] THE ADVENTURER 61 
 
 'Short, O short then be thy reign, 
 And give us to the world again ! ' 
 
 They did not stay long, but walked down to the Thames, 
 took a boat, and rowed to Billingsgate. Beauclerk and John- 
 son were so well pleased with their amusement, that they 
 resolved to persevere in dissipation for the rest of the day: 
 but Langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast with 
 some young Ladies. Johnson scolded him for 'leaving his 
 social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched un-idea'd 
 girls.' Garrick being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, 
 'I heard of your frolick t'other night. You'll be in the 
 Chronicle.' Upon which Johnson afterwards observed, 'He 
 durst not do such a thing. His wife would not let him ! ' 
 
 1753: JETAT. 44.] HE entered upon this year 1753 with 
 his usual piety, as appears from the following prayer, which 
 I transcribed from that part of his diary which he burnt a 
 few days before his death: 
 
 'Jan. 1, 1753, N.S. which I shall use for the future. 
 
 'Almighty GOD, who hast continued my life to this day, 
 grant that, by the assistance of thy Holy Spirit, I may im- 
 prove the time which thou shalt grant me, to my eternal 
 salvation. Make me to remember, to thy glory, thy judge- 
 ments and thy mercies. Make me so to consider the loss of 
 my wife, whom thou hast taken from me, that it may dispose 
 me, by thy grace, to lead the residue of my life in thy fear. 
 Grant this, O LORD, for JESUS CHRIST'S sake. Amen.' 
 
 He now relieved the drudgery of his Dictionary, and the 
 melancholy of his grief, by taking an active part in the com- 
 position of The Adventurer, in which he began to write April 
 10. 
 
 In one of the books of his diary I find the following 
 entry: 
 
 'Apr. 3, 1753. I began the second vol. of my Dictionary, 
 room being left in the first for Preface, Grammar, and His- 
 tory, none of them yet begun. 
 
 'O GOD, who hast hitherto supported me, enable me to 
 proceed in this labour, and in the whole task of my present 
 state; that when I shall render up, at the last day, an ac-
 
 62 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON (1754, 
 
 count of the talent committed to me, I may receive pardon, 
 for the sake of JESUS CHRIST. Amen.' 
 
 1754: JETAT. 45.] THE Dictionary, we may believe, af- 
 forded Johnson full occupation this year. As it approached 
 to its conclusion, he probably worked with redoubled vigour, 
 as seamen increase their exertion and alacrity when they have 
 & near prospect of their haven. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield, to whom Johnson had paid the high 
 compliment of addressing to his Lordship the Plan of his 
 Dictionary, had behaved to him in such a manner as to ex- 
 cite his contempt and indignation. The world has been for 
 many years amused with a story confidently told, and as 
 confidently repeated with additional circumstances, that a 
 sudden disgust was taken by Johnson upon occasion of his 
 having been one day kept long in waiting in his Lordship's 
 antechamber, for which the reason assigned was, that he 
 had company with him; and that at last, when the door 
 opened, out walked Colley Gibber; and that Johnson was 
 so violently provoked when he found for whom he had been 
 so long excluded, that he went away in a passion, and never 
 would return. I remember having mentioned this story to 
 George Lord Lyttelton, who told me, he was very intimate 
 with Lord Chesterfield; and holding it as a well-known 
 truth, defended Lord Chesterfield, by saying, that 'Gibber, 
 who had been introduced familiarly by the back-stairs, had 
 probably not been there above ten minutes.' It may seem 
 strange even to entertain a doubt concerning a story so long 
 and so widely current, and thus implicitly adopted, if not 
 sanctioned, by the authority which I have mentioned; but 
 Johnson himself assured me, that there was not the least 
 foundation for it. He told me, that there never was any 
 particular incident which produced a quarrel between Lord 
 Chesterfield and him; but that his Lordship's continued 
 neglect was the reason why he resolved to have no connec- 
 tion with him. When the Dictionary was upon the eve of 
 publication, Lord Chesterfield, who, it is said, had flattered 
 himself with expectations that Johnson would dedicate the 
 work to him, attempted, in a courtly manner, to sooth, and 
 insinuate himself with the Sage, conscious, as it should seem, 
 of the cold indifference with which he had treated its learned
 
 17541 JOHNSON AND LORD CHESTERFIELD 63 
 
 authour; and further attempted to conciliate him, by writ- 
 ing two papers in The World, in recommendation of the 
 work; and it must be confessed, that they contain some 
 studied compliments, so finely turned, that if there had been 
 no previous offence, it is probable that Johnson would have 
 been highly delighted. 1 Praise, in general, was pleasing to 
 him; but by praise from a man of rank and elegant accom- 
 plishments, he was peculiarly gratified. 
 
 This courtly device failed of its effect. Johnson, who 
 thought that 'all was false and hollow,' despised the honeyed 
 words, and was even indignant that Lord Chesterfield should, 
 for a moment, imagine that he could be the dupe of such an 
 artifice. His expression to me concerning Lord Chesterfield, 
 upon this occasion, was, ' Sir, after making great professions, 
 he had, for many years, taken no notice of me; but when 
 my Dictionary was coming out, he fell a scribbling in The 
 World about it. Upon which, I wrote him a letter expressed 
 in civil terms, but such as might shew him that I did not 
 mind what he said or wrote, and that I had done with him.' 
 
 This is that celebrated letter of which so much has been 
 said, and about which curiosity has been so long excited, 
 without being gratified. I for many years solicited Johnson 
 to favour me with a copy of it, that so excellent a composi- 
 tion might not be lost to posterity. He delayed from time 
 to time to give it me; till at last in 1781, when we were on a 
 visit at Mr. Dilly's, at Southill in Bedfordshire, he was pleased 
 to dictate it to me from memory. He afterwards found among 
 his papers a copy of it, which he had dictated to Mr. Baretti, 
 with its title and corrections, in his own handwriting. This 
 he gave to Mr. Langton; adding that if it were to come into 
 print, he wished it to be from that copy. By Mr. Langton's 
 kindness, I am enabled to enrich my work with a perfect 
 transcript of what the world has so eagerly desired to see. 
 
 'To THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 'February 7, 1755. 
 
 'Mr LORD, I have been lately informed, by the proprietor 
 of The World, that two papers, in which my Dictionary is 
 
 1 Boswell could not have read the second paper carefully. It is 
 silly and Indecent, and was certain to offend Johnson. JSo.
 
 64 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [175* 
 
 recommended to the publick, were written by your Lordship. 
 To be so distinguished, is an honour, which, being very little 
 accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how 
 to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. 
 
 'When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited 
 your Lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, 
 by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear 
 to wish that I might boast myself Le vainqueur du vainnueur 
 de la terre; that I might obtain that regard for which I saw 
 the world contending; but I found my attendance so little 
 encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me 
 to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship 
 in publick, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a 
 retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all 
 that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all 
 neglected, be it ever so little. 
 
 'Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited in 
 your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; dur- 
 ing which time I have been pushing on my work through 
 difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have 
 brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one 
 act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile 
 of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had 
 a Patron before. 
 
 'The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with 
 Love, and found him a native of the rocks. 
 
 'Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern 
 on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has 
 reached ground, encumbers him with help? The notice 
 which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it 
 been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am 
 indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and can- 
 not impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope 
 it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where 
 no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the 
 Publick should consider me as owing that to a Patron, 
 which Providence has enabled me to do for myself. 
 
 'Having carried on my work thus far with so little obliga- 
 tion to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed
 
 1754] HIS OPINION OF WARBURTON 65 
 
 though I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; 
 for I have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in 
 which I once boasted myself with so much exultation, my 
 Lord, your Lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, 
 
 'SAM JOHNSON.' 
 
 'While this was the talk of the town, (says Dr. Adams, in 
 a letter to me) I happened to visit Dr. Warburton, who 
 finding that I was acquainted with Johnson, desired me 
 earnestly to carry his compliments to him, and to tell him, 
 that he honoured him for his manly behaviour in rejecting 
 these condescensions of Lord Chesterfield, and for resenting 
 the treatment he had received from him, with a proper spirit. 
 Johason was visibly pleased with this compliment, for he 
 had always a high opinion of Warburton. Indeed, the 
 force of mind which appeared in this letter, was congenial 
 with that which Warburton himself amply possessed.' 
 
 There is a curious minute circumstance which struck me, 
 in comparing the various editions of Johnson's imitations 
 of Juvenal. In the tenth Satire, one of the couplets upon 
 the vanity of wishes even for literary distinction stood thus: 
 
 'Yet think what ills the scholar's life assail, 
 Pride, envy, want, the garret, and the jail.' 
 
 But after experiencing the uneasiness which Lord Chester- 
 field's fallacious patronage made him feel, he dismissed the 
 word garret from the sad group, and in all the subsequent 
 editions the line stands 
 
 'Pride, envy, want, the Patron, and the jail.' 
 
 That Lord Chesterfield must have been mortified by the 
 lofty contempt, and polite, yet keen satire with which John- 
 son exhibited him to himself in this letter, it is impossible 
 to doubt. He, however, with that glossy duplicity which 
 was his constant study, affected to be quite unconcerned. 
 Dr. Adams mentioned to Mr. Robert Dodsley that he was 
 sorry Johnson had written his letter to Lord Chesterfield. 
 Dodsley, with the true feelings of trade, said 'he was very
 
 66 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1754 
 
 sorry too; for that he had a property in the Dictionary, to 
 which his Lordship's patronage might have been of conse- 
 quence.' He then told Dr. Adams, that Lord Chesterfield 
 had shewn him the letter. 'I should have imagined (re- 
 plied Dr. Adams) that Lord Chesterfield would have con- 
 cealed it.' 'Poh! (said Dodsley) do you think a letter from 
 Johnson could hurt Lord Chesterfield? Not at all, Sir. It 
 lay upon his table, where any body might see it. He read 
 it to me; said, "this man has great powers," pointed out 
 the severest passages, and observed how well they were ex- 
 pressed.' This air of indifference, which imposed upon the 
 worthy Dodsley, was certainly nothing but a specimen of 
 that dissimulation which Lord Chesterfield inculcated as 
 one of the most essential lessons for the conduct of life. His 
 Lordship endeavoured to justify himself to Dodsley from 
 the charges brought against him by Johnson; but we may 
 judge of the flimsiness of his defence, from his having ex- 
 cused his neglect of Johnson, by saying that 'he had heard 
 he had changed his lodgings, and did not know where he 
 lived ; ' as if there could have been the smallest difficulty to 
 inform himself of that circumstance, by inquiring in the 
 literary circle with which his Lordship was well acquainted, 
 and was, indeed, himself one of its ornaments. 
 
 Dr. Adams expostulated with Johnson, and suggested, 
 that his not being admitted when he called on him, was, 
 probably, not to be imputed to Lord Chesterfield; for his 
 Lordship had declared to Dodsley, that 'he would have 
 turned off the best servant he ever had, if he had known 
 that he denied him to a man who would have been always 
 more than welcome;' and, in confirmation of this, he in- 
 sisted on Lord Chesterfield's general affability and easiness 
 of access, especially to literary men. 'Sir (said Johnson) 
 that is not Lord Chesterfield; he is the proudest man this 
 day existing.' 'No, (said Dr. Adams) there is one person, 
 at least, as proud; I think, by your own account, you are 
 the prouder man of the two.' 'But mine (replied Johnson, 
 instantly) was defensive pride.' This, as Dr. Adams well 
 observed, was one of those happy turns for which he was so 
 remarkably ready.
 
 1764] JOHNSON VISITS OXFORD 67 
 
 Johnson having now explicitly avowed his opinion of Lord 
 Chesterfield, did not refrain from expressing himself con- 
 cerning that nobleman with pointed freedom: 'This man 
 (said he) I thought had been a Lord among wits; but, I find, 
 he is only a wit among Lords!' And when his Letters to 
 his natural son were published, he observed, that 'they 
 teach the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing 
 master.' 
 
 On the 6th of March came out Lord Bolingbroke's works, 
 published by Mr. David Mallet. The wild and pernicious 
 ravings, under the name of Philosophy, which were thus 
 ushered into the world, gave great offence to all well-prin- 
 cipled men. Johnson, hearing of their tendency, which no- 
 body disputed, was roused with a just indignation, and pro- 
 nounced this memorable sentence upon the noble authour 
 and his editor. 'Sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward: a 
 scoundrel, for charging a blunderbuss against religion and 
 morality; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it 
 off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly Scotchman, 
 to draw the trigger after his death ! ' 
 
 Johnson this year found an interval of leisure to make an 
 excursion to Oxford, for the purpose of consulting the li- 
 braries there. 
 
 Of his conversation while at Oxford at this time, Mr. 
 Warton preserved and communicated to me the following 
 memorial, which, though not written with all the care and 
 attention which that learned and elegant writer bestowed 
 on those compositions which he intended for the publick 
 eye, is so happily expressed in an easy style, that I should 
 injure it by any alteration: 
 
 'When Johnson came to Oxford in 1754, the long vacation 
 was beginning, and most people were leaving the place. 
 This was the first time of his being there, after quitting the 
 University. The next morning after his arrival, he wished 
 to see his old College, Pembroke. I went with him. He 
 was highly pleased to find all the College-servants which 
 he had left there still remaining, particularly a very old 
 butler; and expressed great satisfaction at being recog- 
 nised by them, and conversed with them familiarly. He
 
 68 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1754 
 
 waited on the master, Dr. Radcliffe, who received him very 
 coldly. Johnson at least expected, that the master would 
 order a copy of his Dictionary, now near publication: but 
 the master did not choose to talk on the subject, never 
 asked Johnson to dine, nor even to visit him, while he 
 .stayed at Oxford. After we had left the lodgings, Johnson 
 said to me, "There lives a man, who lives by the revenues 
 of literature, and will not move a finger to support it. If I 
 come to live at Oxford, I shall take up my abode at Trinity." 
 We then called on the Reverend Mr. Meeke, one of the 
 fellows, and of Johnson's standing. Here was a most cor- 
 dial greeting on both sides. On leaving him, Johnson said, 
 "I used to think Meeke had excellent parts, when we were 
 boys together at the College : but, alas ! 
 
 'Lost in a convent's solitary gloom!' 
 
 I remember, at the classical lecture in the Hall, I could 
 not bear Meeke's superiority, and I tried to sit as far from 
 him as I could, that I might not hear him construe." 
 
 'As we were leaving the College, he said, "Here I trans- 
 lated Pope's Messiah. Which do you think is the best line 
 in it? My own favourite is, 
 
 'Vattis aromaticas fundit Saronica nubes.'" 
 
 I told him, I thought it a very sonorous hexameter. I did 
 not tell him, it was not in the Virgilian style. He much 
 regretted that his first tutor was dead; for whom he seemed 
 to retain the greatest regard. He said, "I once had been 
 a whole morning sliding in Christ-Church Meadow, and 
 missed his lecture in logick. After dinner, he sent for me 
 to his room. I expected a sharp rebuke for my idleness, 
 and went with a beating heart. When we were seated, he 
 told me he had sent for me to drink a glass of wine with him, 
 and to tell me, he was not angry with me for missing his 
 lecture. This was, in fact, a most severe reprimand. Some 
 more of the boys were then sent for, and we spent a very 
 pleasant afternoon." Besides Mr. Meeke, there was only 
 one other Fellow of Pembroke now resident: from both of
 
 1754] MR. WISE'S HOUSE 69 
 
 whom Johnson received the greatest civilities during this 
 visit, and they pressed him very much to have a room in the 
 College. 
 
 'In the course of this visit (1754), Johnson and I walked, 
 three or four times, to Ellsfield, a village beautifully situated 
 about three miles from Oxford, to see Mr. Wise, Radclivian 
 librarian, with whom Johnson was much pleased. At this 
 place, Mr. Wise had fitted up a house and gardens, in a 
 singular manner, but with great taste. Here was an excel- 
 lent library; particularly, a valuable collection of books in 
 Northern literature, with which Johnson was often very 
 busy. One day Mr. Wise read to us a dissertation which he 
 was preparing for the press, in titled, "A History and Chro- 
 nology of the fabulous Ages." Some old divinities of Thrace, 
 related to the Titans, and called the CABIRI, made a very 
 important part of the theory of this piece; and in conversa- 
 tion afterwards, Mr. Wise talked much of his CABIRI. As we 
 returned to Oxford in the evening, I out-walked Johnson, 
 and he cried out Sufflamina, a Latin word which came from 
 his mouth with peculiar grace, and was as much as to say, 
 Put on your drag chain. Before we got home, I again walked 
 too fast for him; and he now cried out, "Why, you walk as 
 if you were pursued by all the CABIRI in a body." In an 
 evening, we frequently took long walks from Oxford into the 
 country, returning to supper. Once, in our way home, we 
 viewed the ruins of the abbies of Oseney and Rewley, near 
 Oxford. After at least half an hour's silence, Johnson said, 
 "I viewed them with indignation!" We had then a long 
 conversation on Gothick buildings; and in talking of the 
 form of old halls, he said, "In these halls, the fire place was 
 anciently always in the middle of the room, till the Whigs 
 removed it on one side." About this time there had been 
 an execution of two or three criminals at Oxford on a Mon- 
 day. Soon afterwards, one day at dinner, I was saying that 
 Mr. Swinton the chaplain of the gaol, and also a frequent 
 preacher before the University, a learned man, but often 
 thoughtless and absent, preached the condemnation-sermon 
 on repentance, before the convicts, on the preceding day, 
 Sunday; and that in the close he told his audience, that he
 
 70 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ITS* 
 
 should give them the remainder of what he had to say on the 
 subject, the next Lord's Day. Upon which, one of our com- 
 pany, a Doctor of Divinity, and a plain matter-of-fact man, 
 by way of offering an apology for Mr. Swinton, gravely re- 
 marked, that he had probably preached the same sermon 
 before the University: "Yes, Sir, (says Johnson) but the 
 University were not to be hanged the next morning." 
 
 'I forgot to observe before, that when he left Mr. Meeke, 
 (as I have told above) he added, "About the same time of 
 life, Meeke was left behind at Oxford to feed on a Fellowship, 
 and I went to London to get my living: now, Sir, see the 
 difference of our literary characters ! " ' 
 
 The degree of Master of Arts, which, it has been observed, 
 could not be obtained for him at an early period of his life, 
 was now considered as an honour of considerable importance, 
 in order to grace the title-page of his Dictionary ; and his 
 character in the literary world being by this time deservedly 
 high, his friends thought that, if proper exertions were made, 
 the University of Oxford would pay him the compliment. 
 
 To THE REVEREND THOMAS WARTON. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I am extremely sensible of the favour done 
 me, both by Mr. Wise and yourself. The book 1 cannot, I 
 think, be printed in less than six weeks, nor probably so 
 soon; and I will keep back the title-page, for such an inser- 
 tion as you seem to promise me. . . . 
 
 ' I had lately the favour of a letter from your brother, with 
 some account of poor Collins, for whom I am much concerned. 
 I have a notion, that by very great temperance, or more 
 properly abstinence, he may yet recover. . . . 
 
 'You know poor Mr. Dodsley has lost his wife; I believe 
 he is much affected. I hope he will not suffer so much as 
 I yet suffer for the loss of mine. 
 
 OY(jioi. tl ' o?(j.ot; 0vi)Ta yip n:eit6v6aE[Aev. 
 
 I have ever since seemed to myself broken off from mankind ; 
 a kind of solitary wanderer in the wild of life, without any 
 
 1 'His Dictionary.' WARTON.
 
 1755] HIS DICTIONARY COMPLETED 71 
 
 direction, or fixed point of view: a gloomy gazer on a world 
 to which I have little relation. Yet I would endeavour, by 
 the help of you and your brother, to supply the want of closer 
 union, by friendship: and hope to have long the pleasure of 
 being, dear Sir, most affectionately your's, 
 
 '[London.] Dec. 21, 1754.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 1755: ^ETAT. 46.] IN 1755 we behold him to great advan- 
 tage; his degree of Master of Arts conferred upon him, his 
 Dictionary published, his correspondence animated, his be- 
 nevolence exercised. 
 
 Mr. Charles Burney, who has since distinguished himself 
 so much in the science of Musick, and obtained a Doctor's 
 degree from the University of Oxford, had been driven from 
 the capital by bad health, and was now residing at Lynne 
 Regis, in Norfolk. He had been so much delighted with 
 Johnson's Rambler and the Plan of his Dictionary, that when 
 the great work was announced in the news-papers as nearly 
 finished, he wrote to Dr. Johnson, begging to be informed 
 when and in what manner his Dictionary would be published ; 
 intreating, if it should be by subscription, or he should have 
 any books at his own disposal, to be favoured with six copies 
 for himself and friends. 
 
 In answer to this application, Dr. Johnson wrote the 
 following letter, of which (to use Dr. Burney's own words) 
 ' if it be remembered that it was written to an obscure young 
 man, who at this time had not much distinguished himself 
 even in his own profession, but whose name could never have 
 reached the authour of The Rambler, the politeness and ur- 
 banity may be opposed to some of the stories which have 
 been lately circulated of Dr. Johnson's natural rudeness and 
 ferocity.' 
 
 'To MR. BURNEY, IN LYNNE REGIS, NORFOLK. 
 
 'Sm, If you imagine that by delaying my answer I in- 
 tended to shew any neglect of the notice with which you 
 have favoured me, you will neither think justly of yourself 
 nor of me. Your civilities were offered with too much ele-
 
 72 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1755 
 
 gance not to engage attention; and. I have too much pleasure 
 in pleasing men like you, not to feel very sensibly the dis- 
 tinction which you have bestowed upon me. 
 
 ' Few consequences of my endeavours to please or to bene- 
 fit mankind have delighted me more than your friendship 
 thus voluntarily offered, which now I have it I hope to keep, 
 because I hope to continue to deserve it. 
 
 'I have no Dictionaries to dispose of for myself, but shall 
 be glad to have you direct your friends to Mr. Dodsley, 
 because it was by his recommendation that I was employed 
 in the work. 
 
 'When you have leisure to think again upon me, let me be 
 favoured with another letter; and another yet, when you 
 have looked into my Dictionary. If you find faults, I shall 
 endeavour to mend them; if you find none, I shall think you 
 blinded by kind partiality: but to have made you partial 
 in his favour, will very much gratify the ambition of, Sir, 
 your most obliged and most humble servant, 
 
 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 ' Gough-square, Fleet-street, April 8, 1755.' 
 
 The Dictionary, with a Grammar and History of the English 
 Language, being now at length published, in two volumes 
 folio, the world contemplated with wonder so stupendous 
 a work atchieved by one man, while other countries had 
 thought such undertakings fit only for whole academies. 
 Vast as his powers were, I cannot but think that his imagi- 
 nation deceived him, when he supposed that by constant 
 application he might have performed the task in three years. 
 
 The extensive reading which was absolutely necessary for 
 the accumulation of authorities, and which alone may ac- 
 count for Johnson's retentive mind being enriched with a 
 very large and various store of knowledge and imagery, must 
 have occupied several years. The Preface furnishes an emi- 
 nent instance of a double talent, of which Johnson was fully 
 conscious. Sir Joshua Reynolds heard him say, 'There are 
 two things which I am confident I can do very well: one is 
 an introduction to any literary work, stating what it is to 
 contain, and how it should be executed in the most perfect
 
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 1755] A SCHEME OF CONDUCT FOR SUNDAY 75 
 
 presses himself) 'not without an habitual reverence for the 
 Sabbath, yet without that attention to its religious duties 
 which Christianity requires; 
 
 ' 1. To rise early, and in order to it, to go to sleep early on 
 Saturday. 
 
 '2. To use some extraordinary devotion in the morning. 
 
 '3. To examine the tenourof my life, and particularly the 
 last week; and to mark my advances in religion, or recession 
 from it. 
 
 '4. To read the Scripture methodically with such helps 
 as are at hand. 
 
 '5. To go to church twice. 
 
 '6. To read books of Divinity, either speculative or prac- 
 tical. 
 
 '7. To instruct my family. 
 
 '8. To wear off by meditation any worldly soil contracted 
 in the week.' 
 
 1756: .ETAT. 47.] IN 1756 Johnson found that the great 
 fame of his Dictionary had not set him above the necessity of 
 'making provision for the day that was passing over him.' 
 No royal or noble patron extended a munificent hand to give 
 independence to the man who had conferred stability on the 
 language of his country. We may feel indignant that there 
 should have been such unworthy neglect; but we must, at 
 the same time, congratulate ourselves, when we consider, 
 that to this very neglect, operating to rouse the natural indo- 
 lence of his constitution, we owe many valuable productions, 
 which otherwise, perhaps, might never have appeared. 
 
 He had spent, during the progress of the work, the money 
 for which he had contracted to write his Dictionary. We 
 have seen that the reward of his labour was only fifteen hun- 
 dred and seventy-five pounds; and when the expence of 
 amanuenses and paper, and other articles are deducted, his 
 clear profit was very inconsiderable. I once said to him, 
 'I am sorry, Sir, you did not get more for your Dictionary.' 
 His answer was, 'I am sorry, too. But it was very well. 
 The booksellers are generous, liberal-minded men.' He, 
 upon all occasions, did ample justice to their character in 
 this respect. He considered them as the patrons of litera-
 
 7.6. LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1755 
 
 ture; and, indeed, although they have eventually been con- 
 siderable gainers by his Dictionary, it is to them that we 
 owe its having been undertaken and carried through at the 
 risk of great expence, for they were not absolutely sure of 
 being indemnified. 
 
 He this year resumed his scheme of giving an edition of 
 Shakspeare with notes. 1 He issued Proposals of considerable 
 length, in which he shewed that he perfectly well knew 
 what a variety of research such an undertaking required; 
 but his indolence prevented him from pursuing it with that 
 diligence which alone can collect those scattered facts that 
 genius, however acute, penetrating, and luminous, cannot 
 discover by its own force. It is remarkable, that at this 
 time his fancied activity was for the moment so vigorous, that 
 he promised his work should be published before Christmas, 
 1757. Yet nine years elapsed before it saw the light. His 
 throes in bringing it forth had been severe and remittent; 
 and at last we may almost conclude that the Caesarian 
 operation was performed by the knife of Churchill, whose 
 upbraiding satire, I dare say, made Johnson's friends urge 
 him to dispatch. 
 
 'He for subscribers bates his hook, 
 And takes your cash; but where's the book? 
 No matter where; wise fear, you know, 
 Forbids the robbing of a foe; 
 But what, to serve our private ends, 
 Forbids the cheating of our friends ? ' 
 
 About this period he was offered a living of considerable 
 value in Lincolnshire, if he were inclined to enter into holy 
 orders. It was a rectory in the gift of Mr. Langton, the 
 father of his much valued friend. But he did not accept of 
 it; partly I believe from a conscientious motive, being per- 
 suaded that his temper and habits rendered him unfit for 
 that assiduous and familiar instruction of the vulgar and 
 ignorant which he held to be an essential duty in a clergy- 
 man; and partly because his love of a London life was so 
 strong, that he would have thought himself an exile in any 
 
 1 First proposed in 1845. ED.
 
 1757] PRAISE VERY SCARCE 77 
 
 other place, particularly if residing in the country. Who- 
 ever would wish to see his thoughts upon that subject dis- 
 played in their full force, may peruse The Adventurer, Num- 
 ber 126. 
 
 1757: ^TAT. 48.] MR. BURNET having enclosed to him an 
 extract from the review of his Dictionary in the Bibliothtque 
 des Savans, and a list of subscribers to his Shakspeare, which 
 Mr. Burney had procured in Norfolk, he wrote the following 
 answer: 
 
 'To MR. BURNEY, IN LTNNE, NORFOLK. 
 
 'SiR, That I may shew myself sensible of your favours, 
 and not commit the same fault a second time, I make haste 
 to answer the letter which I received this morning. The 
 truth is, the other likewise was received, and I wrote an 
 answer; but being desirous to transmit you some proposals 
 and receipts, I waited till I could find a convenient convey- 
 ance, and day was passed after day, till other things drove 
 it from my thoughts; yet not so, but that I remember with 
 great pleasure your commendation of my Dictionary. Your 
 praise was welcome, not only because I believe it was sincere, 
 but because praise has been very scarce. A man of your 
 candour will be surprised when I tell you, that among all my 
 acquaintance there were only two, who upon the publication 
 of my book did not endeavour to depress me with threats of 
 censure from the publick, or with objections learned from 
 those who had learned them from my own Preface. Your's 
 is the only letter of goodwill that I have received; though, 
 indeed, I am promised something of that sort from Sweden. 
 
 'How my new edition will be received I know not; the 
 subscription has not been very successful. I shall publish 
 about March. 
 
 'If you can direct me how to send proposals, I should 
 wish that they were in such hands. 
 
 'I remember, Sir, in some of the first letters with which 
 you favoured me, you mentioned your lady. May I enquire 
 after her? In return for the favours which you have shewn 
 me, it is not much to tell you, that I wish you and her all
 
 78 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1758 
 
 that can conduce to your happiness. I am, Sir, your most 
 obliged, and most humble servant, SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'Gough-square, Dec. 24, 1757.' 
 
 In 1758 we find him, it should seem, in as easy and pleas- 
 ant a state of existence, as constitutional unhappiness ever 
 permitted him to enjoy. 
 
 'To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, LINCOLNSHIRE, 
 
 'DEAREST SIR, I must indeed have slept very fast, not 
 to have been awakened by your letter. None of your sus- 
 picions are true; I am not much richer than when you left 
 me; and, what is worse, my omission of an answer to your 
 first letter, will prove that I am not much wiser. But I go 
 on as I formerly did, designing to be some time or other both 
 rich and wise; and yet cultivate neither mind nor fortune. 
 Do you take notice of my example, and learn the danger of 
 delay. When I was as you are now, towering in the con- 
 fidence of twenty-one, little did I suspect that I should be 
 at forty-nine, what I now am. 
 
 'But you do not seem to need my admonition. You are 
 busy in acquiring and in communicating knowledge, and 
 while you are studying, enjoy the end of study, by making 
 others wiser and happier. I was much pleased with the 
 tale that you told me of being tutour to your sisters. I, who 
 have no sisters nor brothers, look with some degree of inno- 
 cent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends; 
 and cannot see, without wonder, how rarely that native 
 union is afterwards regarded. It sometimes, indeed, hap- 
 pens, that some supervenient cause of discord may over- 
 power this original amity; but it seems to me more frequently 
 thrown away with levity, or lost by negligence, than de- 
 stroyed by injury or violence. We tell the ladies that good 
 wives make good husbands; I believe it is a more certain 
 position that good brothers make good sisters. 
 
 'I am satisfied with your stay at home, as Juvenal with 
 his friend's retirement to Cumae: I know that your absence 
 is best, though it be not best for me.
 
 1758] LETTER TO BENNET LANGTON 79 
 
 'Quamvis digressu veteris confusus amid, 
 Laudo tamen vacuis quod sedem figere Cumis 
 Destinet, atque unum civem donate Sibylla.' 
 
 ' Langton is a good Cumae, but who must be Sibylla ? Mrs. 
 Langton is as wise as Sibyl, and as good; and will live, if 
 my wishes can prolong life, till she shall in time be as old. 
 But she differs in this, that she has not scattered her pre- 
 cepts in the wind, at least not those which she bestowed 
 upon you. 
 
 'The two Wartons just looked into the town, and were 
 taken to see Cleone, where, David 1 says, they were starved 
 for want of company to keep them warm. David and 
 Doddy 2 have had a new quarrel, and, I think, cannot conveni- 
 ently quarrel any more. Cleone was well acted by all the 
 characters, but Bellamy left nothing to be desired. I went 
 the first night, and supported it, as well as I might; for 
 Doddy, you know, is my patron, and I would not desert him. 
 The play was very well received. Doddy, after the danger 
 was over, went every night to the stage-side, and cried at 
 the distress of poor Cleone. 
 
 'I have left off housekeeping, and therefore made presents 
 of the game which you were pleased to send me. The 
 pheasant I gave to Mr. Richardson, 3 the bustard to Dr. 
 Lawrence, and the pot I placed with Miss Williams, to be 
 eaten by myself. She desires that her compliments and 
 good wishes may be accepted by the family; and I make the 
 same request for myself. 
 
 'Mr. Reynolds has within these few days raised his price 
 to twenty guineas a head, and Miss is much employed in 
 miniatures. I know not any body [else] whose prosperity 
 has increased since you left them. 
 
 'Murphy is to have his Orphan of China acted next month; 
 and is therefore, I suppose, happy. I wish I could tell you 
 of any great good to which I was approaching, but at present 
 my prospects do not much delight me; however, I am 
 
 1 Mr. Garrick. BOSWELL. 
 
 Mr. Dodsley, the Authour of Cleone. BOSWELL. 
 
 ' Mr. Samuel Richardson, authour of Clarissa. BOSWELL.
 
 80 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 always pleased when I find that you, dear Sir, remember, 
 your affectionate, humble servant, SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'Jan. 9, 1758.' 
 
 Dr. Burney has kindly favoured me with the following 
 memorandum, which I take the liberty to insert in his own 
 genuine easy style. I love to exhibit sketches of my illus- 
 trious friend by various eminent hands. 
 
 'Soon after this, Mr. Burney, during a visit to the capital, 
 had an interview with him in Gough-square, where he dined 
 and drank tea with him, and was introduced to the acquain- 
 tance of Mrs. Williams. After dinner, Mr. Johnson proposed 
 to Mr. Burney to go up with him into his garret, which being 
 accepted, he there found about five or six Greek folios, a 
 deal writing-desk, and a chair and a half. Johnson giving 
 to his guest the entire seat, tottered himself on one with only 
 three legs and one arm. Here he gave Mr. Burney Mrs. 
 Williams's history, and shewed him some volumes of his 
 Shakspeare already printed, to prove that he was in earnest. 
 Upon Mr. Burney's opening the first volume, at the Merchant 
 of Venice, he observed to him, that he seemed to be more 
 severe on Warburton than Theobald. "0 poor Tib.! (said 
 Johnson) he was ready knocked down to my hands; War- 
 burton stands between me and him." "But, Sir, (said Mr. 
 Burney,) you'll have Warburton upon your bones, won't 
 you?" "No, Sir; he'll not come out: he'll only growl in 
 his den." "But you think, Sir, that Warburton is a supe- 
 riour critick to Theobald?" "0, Sir, he'd make two-and- 
 fifty Theobalds, cut into slices! The worst of Warburton 
 is, that he has a rage for saying something, when there's 
 nothing to be said." Mr. Burney then asked him whether 
 he had seen the letter which Warburton had written in 
 answer to a pamphlet addressed "To the most impudent 
 Man alive." He answered in the negative. Mr. Burney 
 told him it was supposed to be written by Mallet. The con- 
 troversey now raged between the friends of Pope and Boling- 
 broke; and Warburton and Mallet were the leaders of the 
 several parties. Mr. Burney asked him then if he had seen 
 Warburton's book against Bolingbroke's Philosophy? "No,
 
 1758] THE IDLER AND RASSELAS 81 
 
 Sir, I have never read Bolingbroke's impiety, and therefore 
 am not interested about its confutation.'" 
 
 On the fifteenth of April he began a new periodical paper, 
 entitled The Idler, which came out every Saturday in a, 
 weekly news-paper, called The Universal Chronicle, or Weekly 
 Gazette, published by Newbery. These essays were continued 
 till April 5, 1760. Of one hundred and three, their total 
 number, twelve were contributed by his friends. 
 
 The Idler is evidently the work of the same mind which, 
 produced The Rambler, but has less body and more spirit. 
 It has more variety of real life, and greater facility of lan- 
 guage. He describes the miseries of idleness, with the lively 
 sensations of one who has felt them; and in his private 
 memorandums while engaged in it, we find ' This year I hope 
 to learn diligence.' Many of these excellent essays were 
 written as hastily as an ordinary letter. Mr. Langton re- 
 members Johnson, when on a visit at Oxford, asking him one 
 evening how long it was till the post went out; and on being 
 told about half an hour, he exclaimed, 'then we shall do 
 very well.' He upon this instantly sat down and finished 
 an Idler, which it was necessary should be in London the 
 next day. Mr. Langton having signified a wish to read it, 
 ' Sir, (said he) you shall not do more than I have done myself/ 
 He then folded it up and sent it off. 
 
 1759: JETAT. 50.] IN 1759, in the month of January, his 
 mother died at the great age of ninety, an event which deeply 
 affected him; not that 'his mind had acquired no firmness 
 by the contemplation of mortality;' but that his reverential 
 affection for her was not abated by years, as indeed he re- 
 tained all his tender feelings even to the latest period of his 
 life. I have been told that he regretted much his not having 
 gone to visit his mother for several years, previous to her 
 death. But he was constantly engaged in literary labours 
 which confined him to London; and though he had not the 
 comfort of seeing his aged parent, he contributed liberally to 
 her support. 
 
 Soon after this event, he wrote his Rasselas, Prince of 
 Abyssinia; concerning the publication of which Sir John 
 Hawkins guesses vaguely and idly, instead of having taken
 
 82 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1759 
 
 the trouble to inform himself with authentick precision. Not 
 to trouble my readers with a repetition of the Knight's 
 reveries, I have to mention, that the late Mr. Strahan the 
 printer told me, that Johnson wrote it, that with the profits 
 he might defray the expence of his mother's funeral, and pay 
 some little debts which she had left. He told Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds that he composed it in the evenings of one week,* 
 sent it to the press in portions as it was written, and had 
 never since read it over. Mr. Strahan, Mr. Johnston, and 
 Mr. Dodsley purchased it for a hundred pounds, but after- 
 wards paid him twenty-five pounds more, when it came to a 
 second edition. 
 
 Voltaire's Candide, written to refute the system of Opti- 
 mism, which it has accomplished with brilliant success, is 
 wonderfully similar in its plan and conduct to Johnson's 
 Rasselas; insomuch, that I have heard Johnson say, that if 
 they had not been published so closely one after the other 
 that there was not time for imitation, it would have been in 
 vain to deny that the scheme of that which came latest was 
 taken from the other. Though the proposition illustrated 
 by both these works was the same, namely, that in our pres- 
 ent state there is more evil than good, the intention of the 
 writers was very different. Voltaire, I am afraid, meant 
 only by wanton profaneness to obtain a sportive victory over 
 religion, and to discredit the belief of a superintending 
 Providence: Johnson meant, by shewing the unsatisfactory 
 nature of things temporal, to direct the hopes of man to 
 things eternal. Rasselas, as was observed to me by a very 
 accomplished lady, may be considered as a more enlarged 
 and more deeply philosophical discourse in prose, upon the 
 interesting truth, which in his Vanity of Human Wishes he 
 had so successfully enforced in verse. 
 
 I would ascribe to this year the following letter to a son 
 of one of his early friends at Lichfield, Mr. Joseph Simpson, 
 Barrister, and authour of a tract entitled Reflections on the 
 Study of the Law.
 
 17591 EXCURSION TO OXFORD 83 
 
 'To JOSEPH SIMPSON, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, Your father's inexorability not only grieves 
 but amazes me: he is your father; he was always accounted 
 a wise man; nor do I remember any thing to the disadvan- 
 tage of his good-nature; but in his refusal to assist you there 
 is neither good-nature, fatherhood, nor wisdom. It is the 
 practice of good-nature to overlook faults which have al- 
 ready, by the consequences, punished the delinquent. It 
 is natural for a father to think more favourably than others 
 of his children; and it is always wise to give assistance while 
 a little help will prevent the necessity of greater. 
 
 ' If you married imprudently, you miscarried at your own 
 hazard, at an age when you had a right of choice. It would 
 be hard if the man might not choose his own wife, who has 
 a. right to plead before the Judges of his country. 
 
 'If your imprudence has ended in difficulties and incon- 
 veniences, you are yourself to support them; and, with the 
 help of a little better health, you would support them and 
 conquer them. Surely, that want which accident and sick- 
 ness produces, is to be supported in every region of humanity, 
 though there were neither friends nor fathers in the world. 
 You have certainly from your father the highest claim of 
 charity, though none of right; and therefore I would counsel 
 you to omit no decent nor manly degree of importunity. 
 Your debts in the whole are not large, and of the whole but 
 a small part is troublesome. Small debts are like small 
 shot; they are rattling on every side, and can scarcely be 
 escaped without a wound: great debts are like cannon; of 
 loud noise, but little danger. You must, therefore, be en- 
 abled to discharge petty debts, that you may have leisure, 
 with security to struggle with the rest. Neither the great 
 nor little debts disgrace you. I am sure you have my esteem 
 for the courage with which you contracted them, and the 
 spirit with which you endure them. I wish my esteem could 
 be of more use. 1 have been invited, or have invited myself, 
 to several parts of the kingdom; and will not incommode 
 my dear Lucy by coming to Lichfield, while her present'
 
 84 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [i?5 
 
 lodging is of any use to her. I hope, in a few days, to be at 
 leisure, and to make visits. Whither I shall fly is matter of 
 no importance. A man unconnected is at home every where ; 
 unless he may be said to be at home no where. I am sorry, 
 dear Sir, that where you have parents, a man of your merits 
 should not have an home. I wish I could give it you. I am, 
 my dear Sir, affectionately yours, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 He now refreshed himself by an excursion to Oxford, of 
 which the following short characteristical notice, in his own 
 words, is preserved: 
 
 ' * * * is now making tea for me. I have been in my gown 
 ever since I came here. It was, at my first coming, quite 
 new and handsome. I have swum thrice, which I had dis- 
 used for many years. I have proposed to Vansittart, climb- 
 ing over the wall, but he has refused me. And I have 
 clapped my hands till they are sore, at Dr. King's speech.' 
 
 His negro servant, Francis Barber, having left him, and 
 been some time at sea, not pressed as has been supposed f 
 but with his own consent, it appears from a letter to John 
 Wilkes, Esq., from Dr. Smollet, that his master kindly in- 
 terested himself in procuring his release from a state of life 
 of which Johnson always expressed the utmost abhorrence. 
 He said, ' No man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough 
 to get himself into a jail; for being in a ship is being in a 
 jail, with the chance of being drowned.' And at another 
 time, 'A man in a jail has more room, better food, and com- 
 monly better company.' The letter was as follows: 
 
 'Chelsea, March 16, 1759. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I am again your petitioner, in behalf of that 
 great CHAM of literature, Samuel Johnson. His black ser- 
 vant, whose name is Francis Barber, has been pressed on 
 board the Stag Frigate, Captain Angel, and our lexicographer 
 is in great distress. He says the boy is a sickly lad, of a 
 delicate frame, and particularly subject to a malady in his 
 throat, which renders him very unfit for his Majesty's ser- 
 vice. You know what manner of animosity the said Johnson 
 has against you; and I dare say you desire no other oppor-
 
 1760] ARTHUR MURPHY 85 
 
 tunity of resenting it than that of laying him under an obliga- 
 tion. He was humble enough to desire my assistance on 
 this occasion, though he and I were never cater-cousins; and 
 I gave him to understand that I would make application to 
 my friend Mr. Wilkes, who, perhaps, by his interest with 
 Dr. Hay and Mr. Elliot, might be able to procure the dis- 
 charge of his lacquey. It would be superfluous to say more 
 on the subject, which I leave to your own consideration; 
 but I cannot let slip this opportunity of declaring that I 
 am, with the most inviolable esteem and attachment, dear 
 Sir, your affectionate, obliged, humble servant, 
 
 "T. SMOLLET.' 
 
 Mr. Wilkes, who upon all occasions has acted, as a private 
 gentleman, with most polite liberality, applied to his friend 
 Sir George Hay, then one of the Lords Commissioners of the 
 Admiralty; and Francis Barber was discharged, as he has 
 told me, without any wish of his own. He found his old 
 master in Chambers in the Inner Temple, and returned to 
 his service. 
 
 1760: AETAT. 51.] I TAKE this opportunity to relate the 
 manner in which an acquaintance first commenced between 
 Dr. Johnson and Mr. Murphy. During the publication of 
 The Gray's-Inn Journal, a periodical paper which was suc- 
 cessfully carried on by Mr. Murphy alone, when a very young 
 man, he happened to be in the country with Mr. Foote; and 
 having mentioned that he was obliged to go to London in 
 order to get ready for the press one of the numbers of that 
 Journal, Foote said to him, ' You need not go on that account. 
 Here is a French magazine, in which you will find a very 
 pretty oriental tale; translate that, and send it to your 
 printer.' Mr. Murphy having read the tale, was highly 
 pleased with it, and followed Foote's advice. When he re- 
 turned to town, this tale was pointed out to him in The 
 Rambler, from whence it had been translated into the French 
 magazine. Mr. Murphy then waited upon Johnson, to ex- 
 plain this curious incident. His talents, literature, and gen- 
 tleman-like manners, were soon perceived by Johnson, and a 
 friendship was formed which was never broken.
 
 86 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762 
 
 1762: ,ETAT. 53.] A LADY having at this time solicited 
 him to obtain the Archbishop of Canterbury's patronage to 
 have her son sent to the University, one of those solicitations 
 which are too frequent, where people, anxious for a particular 
 object, do not consider propriety, or the opportunity which 
 the persons whom they solicit have to assist them, he wrote 
 to her the following answer, with a copy of which I am fa- 
 voured by the Reverend Dr. Farmer, Master of Emanuel 
 College, Cambridge. 
 
 'MADAM, I hope you will believe that my delay in an- 
 swering your letter could proceed only from my unwilling- 
 ness to destroy any hope that you had formed. Hope is 
 itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness 
 which this world affords: but, like all other pleasures im- 
 moderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated 
 by pain; and expectations improperly indulged, must end 
 in disappointment. If it be asked, what is the improper ex- 
 pectation which it is dangerous to indulge, experience will 
 quickly answer, that it is such expectation as is dictated not 
 by reason, but by desire; expectation raised, not by the com- 
 mon occurrences of life, but by the wants of the expectant; 
 an expectation that requires the common course of things 
 to be changed, and the general rules of action to be broken. 
 
 'When you made your request to me, you should have 
 considered, Madam, what you were asking. You ask me to 
 solicit a great man, to whom I never spoke, for a young 
 person whom I had never seen, upon a supposition which 
 I had no means of knowing to be true. There is no reason 
 why, amongst all the great, I should chuse to supplicate the 
 Archbishop, nor why, among all the possible objects of his 
 bounty, the Archbishop should chuse your son. I know, 
 Madam, how unwillingly conviction is admitted, when in- 
 terest opposes it; but surely, Madam, you must allow, that 
 there is no reason why that should be done by me, which 
 every other man may do with equal reason, and which, 
 indeed no man can do properly, without some very particu- 
 lar relation both to the Archbishop and to you. If I could 
 help you in this exigence by any proper means, it would
 
 1762] LETTER TO BARETTI 87 
 
 give me pleasure; but this proposal is so very remote from 
 all usual methods, that I cannot comply with it, but at the 
 risk of such answer and suspicions as I believe you do not 
 wish me to undergo. 
 
 'I have seen your son this morning; he seems a pretty 
 youth, and will, perhaps, find some better friend than I can 
 procure him; but, though he should at last miss the Uni- 
 versity, he may still be wise, useful, and happy. I am, 
 Madam, your most humble servant, 
 
 'June 8, 1762.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'To MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MILAN. 
 
 'London, July 20, 1762. 
 
 'SiR, However justly you may accuse me for want of 
 punctuality in correspondence, I am not so far lost in negli- 
 gence as to omit the opportunity of writing to you, which 
 Mr. Beauclerk's passage through Milan affords me. 
 
 'I suppose you received the Idlers, and I intend that you 
 shall soon receive Shakspeare, that you may explain his 
 works to the ladies of Italy, and tell them the story of the 
 editor, among the other strange narratives with which your 
 long residence in this unknown region has supplied you. 
 
 'As you have now been long away, I suppose your curi- 
 osity may pant for some news of your old friends. Miss 
 Williams and I live much as we did. Miss Cotterel still 
 continues to cling to Mrs. Porter, and Charlotte is now big 
 of the fourth child. Mr. Reynolds gets six thousands a year. 
 Levet is lately married, not without much suspicion that he 
 has been wretchedly cheated in his match. Mr. Chambers 
 is gone this day, for the first time, the circuit with the Judges. 
 Mr. Richardson is dead of an apoplexy, and his second 
 daughter has married a merchant. 
 
 'My vanity, or my kindness, makes me flatter myself, that 
 you would rather hear of me than of those whom I have 
 mentioned; but of myself I have very little which I care to 
 tell. Last winter I went down to my native town, where I 
 found the streets much narrower and shorter than I thought 
 I had left them, inhabited by a new race of people, to whom.
 
 88 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762 
 
 I was very little known. My play-fellows were grown old, 
 and forced me to suspect that I was no longer young. My 
 only remaining friend has changed his principles, and was 
 become the tool of the predominant faction. My daughter- 
 in-law, from whom I expected most, and whom I met with 
 sincere benevolence, has lost the beauty and gaiety of youth, 
 without having gained much of the wisdom of age. I wan- 
 dered about for five days, and took the first convenient oppor- 
 tunity of returning to a place, where, if there is not much 
 happiness, there is, at least, such a diversity of good and evil, 
 that slight vexations do not fix upon the heart. . . . 
 
 'May you, my Baretti, be very happy at Milan, or some 
 other place nearer to, Sir, your most affectionate humble 
 servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 The accession of George the Third to the throne of these 
 kingdoms, opened a new and brighter prospect to men of 
 literary merit, who had been honoured with no mark of royal 
 favour in the preceding reign. His present Majesty's educa- 
 tion in this country, as well as his taste and beneficence, 
 prompted him to be the patron of science and the arts; and 
 early this year Johnson, having been represented to him as 
 a, very learned and good man, without any certain provision, 
 his Majesty was pleased to grant him a pension of three hun- 
 dred pounds a year. The Earl of Bute, who was then Prime 
 Minister, had the honour to announce this instance of his 
 Sovereign's bounty, concerning which, many and various 
 stories, all equally erroneous, have been propagated: mali- 
 ciously representing it as a political bribe to Johnson, to 
 desert his avowed principles, and become the tool of a gov- 
 ernment which he held to be founded in usurpation. I have 
 taken care to have it in my power to refute them from the 
 most authentick information. Lord Bute told me, that Mr. 
 Wedderburne, now Lord Loughborough, was the person who 
 first mentioned this subject to him. Lord Loughborough 
 told me, that the pension was granted to Johnson solely as 
 the reward of his literary merit, without any stipulation 
 whatever, or even tacit understanding that he should write 
 for administration. His Lordship added, that he was con-
 
 1762] JOHNSON'S PENSION 8 
 
 fident the political tracts which Johnson afterwards did write, 
 as they were entirely consonant with his own opinions, 
 would have been written by him though no pension had been 
 granted to him. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Sheridan and Mr. Murphy, who then lived 
 a good deal both with him and Mr. Wedderburne, told me, 
 that they previously talked with Johnson upon this matter, 
 and that it was perfectly understood by all parties that the 
 pension was merely honorary. Sir Joshua Reynolds told 
 me, that Johnson called on him after his Majestyls intention 
 had been notified to him, and said he wished to consult his 
 friends as to the propriety of his accepting this mark of the 
 royal favour, after the definitions which he had given in hi& 
 Dictionary of pension and pensioners. He said he would not 
 have Sir Joshua's answer till next day, when he would call 
 again, and desired he might think of it. Sir Joshua an- 
 swered that he was clear to give his opinion then, that there 
 could be no objection to his receiving from the King a re- 
 ward for literary merit; and that certainly the definitions in 
 his Dictionary were not applicable to him. Johnson, it 
 should seem, was satisfied, for he did not call again till he 
 had accepted the pension, and had waited on Lord Bute to 
 thank him. He then told Sir Joshua that Lord Bute said to 
 him expressly, 'It is not given you for anything you are to 
 do, but for what you have done.' His Lordship, he said, 
 behaved in the handsomest manner. He repeated the words 
 twice, that he might be sure Johnson heard them, and thus 
 set his mind perfectly at ease. This nobleman, who has been 
 so virulently abused, acted with great honour in this instance, 
 and displayed a mind truly liberal. A minister of a more 
 narrow and selfish disposition would have availed himself 
 of such an opportunity to fix an implied obligation on a man 
 of Johnson's powerful talents to give him his support. 
 
 Mr. Murphy and the late Mr. Sheridan severally contended 
 for the distinction of having been the first who mentioned to 
 Mr. Wedderburne that Johnson ought to have a pension. 
 When I spoke of this to Lord Loughborough, wishing to 
 know if he recollected the prime mover in the business, he 
 said, 'All his friends assisted:' and when I told him that
 
 90 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1762 
 
 Mr. Sheridan strenuously asserted his claim to it, his Lord- 
 ship said, 'He rang the bell.' And it is but just to add, that 
 Mr. Sheridan told me, that when he communicated to Dr. 
 Johnson that a pension was to be granted him, he replied in 
 a fervour of gratitude, ' The English language does not afford 
 me terms adequate to my feelings on this occasion. I must 
 have recourse to the French. I am penetre with his Majesty's 
 goodness.' When I repeated this to Dr. Johnson, he did not 
 contradict it. 
 
 This year his friend Sir Joshua Reynolds paid a visit of 
 some weeks to his native country, Devonshire, in which he 
 was accompanied by Johnson, who was much pleased with 
 this jaunt, and declared he had derived from it a great ac- 
 cession of new ideas. He was entertained at the seats of 
 several noblemen and gentlemen in the West of England; 
 but the greatest part of the time was passed at Plymouth, 
 where the magnificence of the navy, the ship-building and 
 all its circumstances, afforded him a grand subject of con- 
 templation. The Commissioner of the Dock-yard paid him 
 the compliment of ordering the yacht to convey him and his 
 friend to the Eddystone, to which they accordingly sailed. 
 But the weather was so tempestuous that they could not 
 land. 
 
 Reynolds and he were at this time the guests of Dr. Mudge, 
 the celebrated surgeon, and now physician of that place, not 
 more distinguished for quickness of parts and variety of 
 knowledge, than loved and esteemed for his amiable manners ; 
 and here Johnson formed an acquaintance with Dr. Mudge's 
 father, that very eminent divine, the Reverend Zachariah 
 Mudge, Prebendary of Exeter, who was idolised in the west, 
 both for his excellence as a preacher and the uniform per- 
 fect propriety of his private conduct. He preached a ser- 
 mon purposely that Johnson might hear him; and we shall 
 see afterwards that Johnson honoured his memory by draw- 
 ing his character. While Johnson was at Plymouth, he saw 
 a great many of its inhabitants, and was not sparing of his 
 very entertaining conversation. It was here that he made 
 that frank and truly original confession, that 'ignorance, 
 pure ignorance,' was the cause of a wrong definition in his
 
 1762] JOHNSON AT PLYMOUTH 91 
 
 Dictionary of the word pastern, to the no small surprise of 
 the Lady who put the question to him; who having the 
 most profound reverence for his character, so as almost to 
 suppose him endowed with infallibility, expected to hear an 
 explanation (of what, to be sure, seemed strange to a com- 
 mon reader,) drawn from some deep-learned source with 
 which she was unacquainted. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, to whom I was obliged for my in- 
 formation concerning this excursion, mentions a very char- 
 acteristical anecdote of Johnson while at Plymouth. Having 
 observed that in consequence of the Dock-yard a new town 
 had arisen about two miles off as a rival to the old; and 
 knowing from his sagacity, and just observation of human 
 nature, that it is certain if a man hates at all, he will hate his 
 next neighbour; he concluded that this new and rising town 
 could not but excite the envy and jealousy of the old, in which 
 conjecture he was very soon confirmed; he therefore set 
 himself resolutely on the side of the oid town, the established 
 town, in which his lot was cast, considering it as a kind of 
 duty to stand by it. He accordingly entered warmly into 
 its interests, and upon every occasion talked of the dockers, 
 as the inhabitants of the new town were called, as upstarts 
 and aliens. Plymouth is very plentifully supplied with 
 water by a river brought into it from a great distance, which 
 is so abundant that it runs to waste in the town. The 
 Dock, or New-town, being totally destitute of water, peti- 
 tioned PljTnouth that a small portion of the conduit might 
 be permitted to go to them, and this was now under con- 
 sideration. Johnson, affecting to entertain the passions of 
 the place, was violent in opposition; and, half-laughing at 
 himself for his pretended zeal where he had no concern, 
 exclaimed, 'No, no ! I am against the dockers; I am a Plym- 
 outh man. Rogues ! let them die of thirst. They shall not 
 have a drop ! ' 
 
 1763: ,ETAT. 54.] THIS is to me a memorable year; for 
 in it I had the happiness to obtain the acquaintance of that 
 extraordinary man whose memoirs I am now writing; an 
 acquaintance which I shall ever esteem as one of the most 
 fortunate circumstances in my life. Though then but two-
 
 92 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON (1763. 
 
 and-twenty, I had for several years read his works with delight 
 and instruction, and had the highest reverence for their 
 authour, which had grown up in my fancy into a kind of 
 mysterious veneration, by figuring to myself a state of solemn 
 elevated abstraction, in which I supposed him to live in the 
 immense metropolis of London. Mr. Gentleman, a native 
 of Ireland, who passed some years in Scotland as a player, 
 and as an instructor in the English language, a man whose 
 talents and worth were depressed by misfortunes, had given 
 me a representation of the figure and manner of DICTIONARY 
 JOHNSON! as he was then generally called; and during my 
 first visit to London, which was for three months in 1760, 
 Mr. Derrick the poet, who was Gentleman's friend and coun- 
 tryman, flattered me with hopes that he would introduce 
 me to Johnson, an honour of which I was very ambitious. 
 But he never found an opportunity; which made me doubt 
 that he had promised to do what was not in his power; till 
 Johnson some years afterwards told me, ' Derrick, Sir, might 
 very well have introduced you. I had a kindness for Der- 
 rick, and am sorry he is dead.' 
 
 In the summer of 1761 Mr. Thomas Sheridan was at Edin- 
 burgh, and delivered lectures upon the English Language 
 and Publick Speaking to large and respectable audiences. 
 I was often in his company, and heard him frequently ex- 
 patiate upon Johnson's extraordinary knowledge, talents, 
 and virtues, repeat his pointed sayings, describe his particu- 
 larities, and boast of his being his guest sometimes till two 
 or three in the morning. At his house I hoped to have many 
 opportunities of seeing the sage, as Mr. Sheridan obligingly 
 assured me I should not be disappointed. 
 
 When I returned to London in the end of 1762, to my sur- 
 prise and regret I found an irreconcileable difference had 
 taken place between Johnson and Sheridan. A pension of 
 two hundred pounds a year had been given to Sheridan. 
 Johnson, who, as has been already mentioned, thought 
 slightingly of Sheridan's art, upon hearing that he was also 
 pensioned, exclaimed, 'What! have they given him a pen- 
 sion? Then it is time for me to give up mine.' 
 
 Johnson complained that a man who disliked him re-
 
 1763] QUARREL WITH SHEKIDAN 93 
 
 peated his sarcasm to Mr. Sheridan, without telling him what 
 followed, which was, that after a pause he added, ' However, 
 I am glad that Mr. Sheridan has a pension, for he is a very 
 good man.' Sheridan could never forgive this hasty con- 
 temptuous expression. It rankled in his mind; and though 
 I informed him of all that Johnson said, and that he would 
 be very glad to meet him amicably, he positively declined 
 repeated offers which I made, and once went off abruptly 
 from a house where he and I were engaged to dine, because 
 he was told that Dr. Johnson was to be there. 1 
 
 This rupture with Sheridan deprived Johnson of one of 
 his most agreeable resources for amusement in his lonely 
 evenings; for Sheridan's well-informed, animated, and bus- 
 tling mind never suffered conversation to stagnate ; and Mrs. 
 Sheridan was a most agreeable companion to an intellectual 
 man. She was sensible, ingenious, unassuming, yet com- 
 municative. I recollect, with satisfaction, many pleasing 
 hours which I passed with her under the hospitable roof of 
 her husband, who was to me a very kind friend. Her novel, 
 entitled Memoirs of Miss Sydney Biddidph, contains an ex- 
 cellent moral while it inculcates a future state of retribution; 
 and what it teaches is impressed upon the mind by a series, 
 of as deep distress as can affect humanity, in the amiable and 
 pious heroine who goes to her grave unrelieved, but resigned, 
 and full of hope of 'heaven's mercy.' Johnson paid her this. 
 high compliment upon it: 'I know not, Madam, that you. 
 have a right, upon moral principles, to make your readers- 
 suffer so much.' 
 
 Mr. Thomas Davies the actor, who then kept a book- 
 seller's shop in Russel-street, Co vent-garden, told me that 
 Johnson was very much his friend, and came frequently to 
 his house, where he more than once invited me to meet him; 
 but by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented 
 from coming to us. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Davies was a man of good understanding and 
 
 talents, with the advantage of a liberal education. Though 
 
 somewhat pompous, he was an entertaining companion; and 
 
 his literary performances have no inconsiderable share of 
 
 See below, p. 634. ED.
 
 94 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1753 
 
 merit. He was a friendly and very hospitable man. Both 
 he and his wife, (who has been celebrated for her beauty,) 
 though upon the stage for many years, maintained an uni- 
 form decency of character; and Johnson esteemed them, 
 and lived in as easy an intimacy with them, as with any 
 family which he used to visit. Mr. Davies recollected sev- 
 eral of Johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of the 
 best of the many imitators of his voice and manner, while 
 relating them. He increased my impatience more and more 
 to see the extraordinary man whose works I highly valued, 
 and whose conversation was reported to be so peculiarly 
 excellent. 
 
 At last, on Monday the 16th of May, when I was sitting 
 in Mr. Davies's back-parlour, after having drunk tea with 
 him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into the 
 shop; and Mr. Davies having perceived him through the 
 glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing 
 towards us, he announced his aweful approach to me, some- 
 what in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when 
 he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, 
 'Look, my Lord, it comes.' I found that I had a very per- 
 fect idea of Johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had published his 
 Dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep 
 meditation, which was the first picture his friend did for him, 
 which Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which 
 an engraving has been made for this work. Mr. Davies 
 mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. 
 I was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against 
 the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, 
 'Don't tell where I come from.' 'From Scotland,' cried 
 Davies roguishly. ''Mr. Johnson, (said I) I do indeed come 
 from Scotland, but I cannot help it.' I am willing to flatter 
 myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to sooth and 
 conciliate him, and not a's an humiliating abasement at the 
 expence of my country. But however that might be, this 
 speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of 
 wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expres- 
 sion 'come from Scotland,' which I used in the sense of
 
 1763] BOSWELL'S FIRST MEETING 95 
 
 being of that country; and, as if I had said that I had come 
 away from it, or left it, retorted, 'That, Sir, I find, is what 
 a very great many of your countrymen cannot help.' This 
 stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat down, 
 I felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of 
 what might come next. He then addressed himself to Da vies: 
 ' What do you think of Garrick ? He has refused me an order 
 for the play for Miss Williams, because he knows the house 
 will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings.' 
 Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with 
 him, I ventured to say, '0, Sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick 
 would grudge such a trifle to you.' 'Sir, (said he, with a 
 stern look,) I have known David Garrick longer than you have 
 done: and I know no right you have to talk to me on the 
 subject.' Perhaps I deserved this check; for it was rather 
 presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any 
 doubt of the justice of his animadversion upon his old ac- 
 quaintance and pupil. 1 I now felt myself much mortified, 
 and began to think that the hope which I had long indulged 
 of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. And, in truth, 
 had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my reso- 
 lution uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might 
 have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. 
 Fortunately, however, I remained upon the field not wholly 
 discomfited. 
 
 I was highly pleased with the extraordinary vigour of his 
 conversation, and regretted that I was drawn away from it 
 by an engagement at another place. I had, for a part of 
 the evening, been left alone with him, and had ventured to 
 make an observation now and then, which he received very 
 civilly; so that I was satisfied that though there was a rough- 
 ness in his manner, there was no ill-nature in his disposition. 
 
 1 That this was a momentary sally against Garrick there can be 
 no doubt; for at Johnson's desire he had, some years before, given a 
 benefit-night at his theatre to this very person, by which she had got 
 two hundred pounds. Johnson, indeed, upon all other occasions, 
 when I was in his company, praised the very liberal charity of Gar- 
 rick. I once mentioned to him, ' It is observed, Sir, that you attack 
 Garrick yourself, but will suffer nobody else to do it.' JOHNSON, 
 (smiling) 'Why. Sir, that is true.' BOSWELL.
 
 96 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 Davies followed me to the door, and when I complained to 
 him a little of the hard blows which the great man had given 
 me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying, 'Don't 
 be uneasy. I can see he likes you very well.' 
 
 A few days afterwards I called on Davies, and asked him 
 if he thought I might take the liberty of waiting on Mr. 
 Johnson at his Chambers in the Temple. He said I cer- 
 tainly might, and that Mr. Johnson would take it as a com- 
 pliment. So upon Tuesday the 24th of May, after having 
 been enlivened by the witty sallies of Messieurs Thornton, 
 Wilkes, Churchill and Lloyd, with whom I had passed the 
 morning, I boldly repaired to Johnson. His Chambers were 
 on the first floor of No. 1, Inner-Temple-lane, and I entered 
 them with an impression given me by the Reverend Dr. 
 Blair, of Edinburgh, who had been introduced to him not 
 long before, and described his having 'found the Giant in 
 his den;' an expression, which, when I came to be pretty 
 well acquainted with Johnson, I repeated to him, and he was 
 diverted at this picturesque account of himself. Dr. Blair 
 had been presented to him by Dr. James Fordyce. At this 
 time the controversy concerning the pieces published by Mr. 
 James Macpherson, as translations of Ossian, was at its 
 height. Johnson had all along denied their authenticity; 
 and, what was still more provoking to their admirers, main- 
 tained that they had no merit. The subject having been 
 introduced by Dr. Fordyce, Dr. Blair, relying on the in- 
 ternal evidence of their antiquity, asked Dr. Johnson whether 
 he thought any man of a modern age could have written 
 such poems? Johnson replied, 'Yes, Sir, many men, many 
 women, and many children.' Johnson, at this time, did not 
 know that Dr. Blair had just published a Dissertation, not 
 only defending their authenticity, but seriously ranking 
 them with the poems of Homer and Virgil; and when he 
 was afterwards informed of this circumstance, he expressed 
 some displeasure at Dr. Fordyce's having suggested the 
 topick, and said, 'I am not sorry that they got thus much 
 for their pains. Sir, it was like leading one to talk of a book 
 when the authour is concealed behind the door.' 
 
 He received me very courteously; but, it mu?t be con-
 
 1763] BOSWELL'S FIRST CALL 97 
 
 fessed, that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress, 
 were sufficiently uncouth. His brown suit of cloaths looked 
 very rusty; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered 
 wig, which was too small for his head; his shirt-neck and 
 knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted stockings 
 ill drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way 
 of slippers. But all these slovenly particularities were for- 
 gotten the moment that he began to talk. Some gentle- 
 men, whom I do not recollect, were sitting with him; and 
 when they went away, I also rose; but he said to me, 'Nay, 
 don't go.' 'Sir, (said I,) I am afraid that I intrude upon 
 you. It is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you.' 
 He seemed pleased with this compliment, which I sincerely 
 paid him, and answered, 'Sir, I am obliged to any man who 
 visits me.' I have preserved the following short minute of 
 what passed this day: 
 
 'Madness frequently discovers itself merely by unneces- 
 sary deviation from the usual modes of the world. My poor 
 friend Smart shewed the disturbance of his mind, by falling 
 upon his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in 
 any other unusual place. Now although, rationally speak- 
 ing, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as 
 Smart did, I am afraid there are so many who do not pray, 
 that their understanding is not called in question.' 
 
 Concerning this unfortunate poet, Christopher Smart, who 
 was confined in a mad-house, he had, at another time, the 
 following conversation with Dr. Burney: BURNEY. 'How 
 does poor Smart do, Sir; is he likely to recover?' JOHNSON. 
 'It seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the 
 disease; for he grows fat upon it.' BURNEY. 'Perhaps, Sir, 
 that may be from want of exercise.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; 
 he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs 
 in the garden. Indeed, before his confinement, he used for 
 exercise to walk to the ale-house; but he was carried back 
 again. I did not think he ought to be shut up. His infir- 
 mities were not noxious to society. He insisted on people 
 praying with him; and I'd as lief pray with Kit Smart as 
 any one else. Another charge was, that he did not love 
 clean linen; and I have no passion for it.' Johnson con-
 
 98 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 tinued. 'Mankind have a great aversion to intellectual la- 
 bour; but even supposing knowledge to be easily attainable, 
 more people would be content to be ignorant than would 
 take even a little trouble to acquire it.' 
 
 Talking of Garrick, he said, 'He is the first man in the 
 world for sprightly conversation.' 
 
 When I rose a second time he again pressed me to stay, 
 which I did. 
 
 He told me, that he generally went abroad at four in the 
 afternoon, and seldom came home till two in the morning. 
 I took the liberty to ask if he did not think it wrong to live 
 thus, and not make more use of his great talents. He owned 
 it was a bad habit. On reviewing, at the distance of many 
 years, my journal of this period, I wonder how, at my first 
 visit, I ventured to talk to him so freely, and that he bore it 
 with so much indulgence. 
 
 Before we parted, he was so good as to promise to favour 
 me with his company one evening at my lodgings; and, as 
 I took my leave, shook me cordially by the hand. It is 
 almost needless to add, that I felt no little elation at having 
 now so happily established an acquaintance of which I had 
 been so long ambitious. 
 
 I did not visit him again till Monday, June 13, at which 
 time I recollect no part of his conversation, except that 
 when I told him I had been to see Johnson ride upon three 
 horses, he said, 'Such a man, Sir, should be encouraged; 
 for his performances shew the extent of the human powers 
 in one instance, and thus tend to raise our opinion of the 
 faculties of man. He shews what may be attained by per- 
 severing application; so that every man may hope, that by 
 giving as much application, although perhaps he may never 
 ride three horses at a time, or dance upon a wire, yet he may 
 be equally expert in whatever profession he has chosen to 
 pursue.' 
 
 He again shook me by the hand at parting, and asked me 
 why I did not come oftener to him. Trusting that I was 
 now in his good graces, I answered, that he had not given 
 me much encouragement, and reminded him of the check 
 I had received from him at our first interview. 'Poh, poh!
 
 1763] THE MITRE TAVERN 99 
 
 
 (said he, with a complacent smile,) never mind these things. 
 
 Come to me as often as you can. I shall be glad to see you/ 
 I had learnt that his place of frequent resort was the 
 Mitre tavern in Fleet-street, where he loved to sit up late, 
 and I begged I might be allowed to pass an evening with him 
 there soon, which he promised I should. A few days after- 
 wards I met him near Temple-bar, about one o'clock in the 
 morning, and asked if he would then go to the Mitre. 'Sir, 
 (said he) it is too late; they won't let us in. But I'll go with 
 you another night with all my heart.' 
 
 A revolution of some importance in my plan of life had 
 just taken place; for instead of procuring a commission in 
 the foot-guards, which was my own inclination, I had, in 
 compliance with my father's wishes, agreed to study the 
 law; and was soon to set out for Utrecht, to hear the lectures 
 of an excellent Civilian in that University, and then to 
 proceed on my travels. Though very desirous of obtaining 
 Dr. Johnson's advice and instructions on the mode of pur- 
 suing my studies, I was at this time so occupied, shall I 
 call it? or so dissipated, by the amusements of London, that 
 our next meeting was not till Saturday, June 25, when 
 happening to dine at Clifton's eating-house, in Butcher-row 
 I was surprized to perceive Johnson come in and take his 
 seat at another table. The mode of dining, or rather being 
 fed, at such houses in London, is well known to many to 
 be particularly unsocial, as there is no Ordinary, or united 
 company, but each person has his own mess, and is under 
 no obligation to hold any intercourse with any one. A 
 liberal and full-minded man, however, who loves to talk, 
 will break through this churlish and unsocial restraint. 
 Johnson and an Irish gentleman got into a dispute concern- 
 ing the cause of some part of mankind being black. 'Why, 
 Sir, (said Johnson,) it has been accounted for in three ways: 
 either by supposing that they are the posterity of Ham, 
 who was cursed; or that GOD at first created two kinds of 
 men, one black and another white; or that by the heat of 
 the sun the skin is scorched, and so acquires a sooty hue. 
 This matter has been much canvassed among naturalists, 
 but has never been brought to any certain issue.' What
 
 100 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 
 
 the Irishman said is totally obliterated from my mind; but 
 I remember that he became very warm and intemperate in 
 his expressions; upon which Johnson rose, and quietly 
 walked away. When he had retired, his antagonist took 
 his revenge, as he thought, by saying, ' He has a most ungainly 
 figure, and an affectation of pomposity, unworthy of a man 
 of <^enius.' 
 
 Johnson had not observed that I was in the room. I 
 followed him, however, and he agreed to meet me in the 
 evening at the Mitre. I called on him, and we went thither 
 at nine. We had a good supper, and port wine, of which he 
 then sometimes drank a bottle. The orthodox high-church 
 sound of the MITRE, the figure and manner of the cele- 
 brated SAMUEL JOHNSON, the extraordinary power and pre- 
 cision of his conversation, and the pride arising from finding 
 myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of 
 sensations, and a pleasing elevation of mind beyond what 
 I had ever before experienced. I find in my journal the 
 following minute of our conversation, which, though it will 
 : give but a very faint notion of what passed, is in some de- 
 gree a valuable record; and it will be curious in this view, 
 as shewing how habitual to his mind were some opinions 
 which appear in his works. 
 
 'Colley Gibber, Sir, was by no means a blockhead; but 
 by arrogating to himself too much, he was in danger of 
 .losing that degree of estimation to which he was entitled. 
 His friends gave out that he intended his birth-day Odes 
 should be bad: but that was not the case, Sir; for he kept 
 them many months by him, and a few years before he died 
 he shewed me one of them, with great solicitude to render it 
 as perfect as might be, and I made some corrections, to which 
 he was not very willing to submit. I remember the follow- 
 ing couplet in allusion to the King and himself: 
 
 " Perch' d on the eagle's soaring wing, 
 The lowly linnet loves to sing." 
 
 Sir, he had heard something of the fabulous tale of the wren 
 sitting upon the eagle's wing, and he had applied it to a
 
 1763] JOHNSON ON GRAY 101 
 
 linnet. Gibber's familiar style, however, was better than 
 that which Whitehead has assumed. Grand nonsense is in- 
 supportable. Whitehead is but a little man to inscribe 
 verses to players. 
 
 'Sir, I do not think Gray a first-rate poet. He has not 
 a bold imagination, nor much command of words. The 
 obscurity in which he has involved himself will not persuade 
 us that he is sublime. His Elegy in a Church-yard has a 
 happy selection of images, but I don't like what are called 
 his great things. His Ode which begins 
 
 "Ruin seize thee, ruthless King, 
 Confusion on thy banners wait ! " 
 
 has been celebrated for its abruptness, and plunging into the 
 subject all at once. But such arts as these have no merit, 
 unless when they are original. We admire them only once; 
 and this abruptness has nothing new in it. We have had it 
 often before. Nay, we have it in the old song of Johnny 
 Armstrong: 
 
 "Is there ever a man in all Scotland 
 From the highest estate to the lowest degree," &c. 
 
 And then, Sir, 
 
 "Yes, there is a man in Westmoreland, 
 And Johnny Armstrong they do him call." 
 
 There, now, you plunge at once into the subject. You have 
 no previous narration to lead you to it. The two next lines 
 in that Ode are, I think, very good: 
 
 "Though fann'd by conquest's crimson wing, 
 They mock the air with idle state." ' 
 
 Finding him in a placid humour, and wishing to avail 
 myself of the opportunity which I fortunately had of con- 
 sulting a sage, to hear whose wisdom, I conceived in the 
 ardour of youthful imagination, that men filled with a noble
 
 102 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 enthusiasm for intellectual improvement would gladly have 
 resorted from distant lands; I opened my mind to him 
 ingenuously, and gave him a little sketch of my life, to which 
 he was pleased to listen with great attention. 
 
 I acknowledged, that though educated very strictly in the 
 principles of religion, I had for some time been misled into 
 a certain degree of infidelity; but that I was come now to 
 a better way of thinking, and was fully satisfied of the 
 truth of the Christian revelation, though I was not clear 
 as to every point considered to be orthodox. Being at all 
 times a curious examiner of the human mind, and pleased 
 with an undisguised display of what had passed in it, he 
 called to me with warmth, 'Give me your hand; I have 
 taken a liking to you.' He then began to descant upon the 
 force of testimony, and the little we could know of final 
 causes; so that the objections of, why was it so? or why 
 was it not so? ought not to disturb us: adding, that he him- 
 self had at one period been guilty of a temporary neglect of 
 religion, but that it was not the result of argument, but 
 mere absence of thought. 
 
 After having given credit to reports of his bigotry, I was 
 agreeably surprized when he expressed the following very 
 liberal sentiment, which has the additional value of obvi- 
 ating an objection to our holy religion, founded upon the dis- 
 cordant tenets of Christians themselves: 'For my part, Sir, 
 I think all Christians, whether Papists or Protestants, agree 
 in the essential articles, and that their differences are trivial, 
 and rather political than religious.' 
 
 We talked of belief in ghosts. He said, 'Sir, I make a 
 distinction between what a man may experience by the 
 mere strength of his - imagination, and what imagination 
 cannot possibly produce. Thus, suppose I should think 
 that I saw a form, and heard a voice cry "Johnson, you are 
 a very wicked fellow, and unless you repent you will cer- 
 tainly be punished;" my own un worthiness is so deeply im- 
 pressed upon my mind, that I might imagine I thus saw 
 and heard, and therefore I should not believe that an external 
 communication had been made to me. But if a form should 
 appear, and a voice should tell me that a particular man
 
 1763] BELIEF IN GHOSTS 103 
 
 had died at a particular place, and a particular hour, a fact 
 which I had no apprehension of, nor any means of knowing, 
 and this fact, with all its circumstances, should afterwards be 
 unquestionably proved, I should, in that case, be persuaded 
 that I had supernatural intelligence imparted to me.' 
 
 Here it is proper, once for all, to give a true and fair state- 
 ment of Johnson's way of thinking upon the question, 
 whether departed spirits are ever permitted to appear in 
 this world, or in any way to operate upon human life. He 
 has been ignorantly misrepresented as weakly credulous 
 upon that subject; and, therefore, though I feel an inclina- 
 tion to disdain and treat with silent "contempt so foolish a 
 notion concerning my illustrious friend, yet as I find it has 
 gained ground, it is necessary to refute it. The real fact 
 then is, that Johnson had a very philosophical mind, and such 
 a rational respect for testimony, as to make him submit his 
 understanding to what was authentically proved, though he 
 could not comprehend why it was so. Being thus disposed, 
 he was willing to inquire into the truth of any relation of 
 supernatural agency, a general belief of which has prevailed 
 in all nations and ages. But so far was he from being the 
 dupe of implicit faith, that he examined the matter with a 
 jealous attention, and no man was more ready to refute its 
 falsehood when he had discovered it. Churchill, in his poem 
 entitled The Ghost, availed himself of the absurd credulity 
 imputed to Johnson, and drew a caricature of him under the 
 name of 'PoMPOSO,' representing him as one of the believers 
 of the story of a Ghost in Cock-lane, which, in the year 
 1762, had gained very general credit in London. Many of 
 my readers, I am convinced, are to this hour under an im- 
 pression that Johnson was thus foolishly deceived. It will 
 therefore surprize them a good deal when they are informed 
 upon undoubted authority, that Johnson was one of those 
 by whom the imposture was detected. The story had be- 
 come so popular, that he thought it should be investigated; 
 and in this research he was assisted by the Reverend Dr. 
 Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, the great detector of im- 
 postures; who informs me, that after the gentlemen who went 
 and examined into the evidence were satisfied of its falsity,
 
 104 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 Johnson wrote in their presence an account of it, which was 
 published in the newspapers and Gentleman's Magazine, and 
 undeceived the world. 
 
 Our conversation proceeded. ' Sir, (said he) I am a friend 
 to subordination, as most conducive to the happiness of 
 society. There is a reciprocal pleasure in governing and 
 being governed.' 
 
 'Dr. Goldsmith is one of the first men we now have as an 
 authour, and he is a very worthy man too. He has been 
 loose in his principles, but he is coming right.' 
 
 I complained to him that I had not yet acquired much 
 knowledge, and asked his advice as to my studies. He said, 
 ' Don't talk of study now. I will give you a plan ; but it will 
 require some time to consider of it.' 'It is very good in you 
 (I replied,) to allow me to be with you thus. Had it been 
 foretold to me some years ago that I should pass an evening 
 with the authour of The Rambler, how should I have ex- 
 ulted ! ' What I then expressed, was sincerely from the heart. 
 He was satisfied that it was, and cordially answered, 'Sir, 
 I am glad we have met. I hope we shall pass many evenings 
 and mornings too, together.' We finished a couple of bottles 
 of port, and sat till between one and two in the morning. 
 
 As Dr. Oliver Goldsmith will frequently appear in this 
 narrative, I shall endeavour to make my readers in some 
 degree acquainted with his singular character. He was a 
 native of Ireland, and a contemporary with Mr. Burke at 
 Trinity College, Dublin, but did not then give much promise 
 of future celebrity. He, however, observed to Mr. Malone, 
 that 'though he made no great figure in mathematicks, 
 which was a study in much repute there, he could turn an 
 Ode of Horace into English better than any of them.' He 
 afterwards studied physick at Edinburgh, and upon the Con- 
 tinent; and I have been informed, was enabled to pursue 
 his travels on foot, partly by demanding at Universities to 
 enter the lists as a disputant, by which, according to the 
 custom of many of them, he was entitled to the premium of 
 a crown, when luckily for him his challenge was not accepted; 
 so that, as I once observed to Dr. Johnson, he disputed his 
 passage through Europe. He then came to England, and
 
 17631 GOLDSMITH 105 
 
 was employed successively in the capacities of an usher to 
 an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and a writer 
 for a news-paper. He had sagacity enough to cultivate 
 assiduously the acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties 
 were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a 
 model. To me and many others it appeared that he studi- 
 ously copied the manner of Johnson, though, indeed, upon 
 a smaller scale. 
 
 At this time I think he had published nothing with his 
 name, though it was pretty generally known that one Dr. 
 Goldsmith was the authour of An Enquiry into the present 
 State of polite Learning in Europe, and of The Citizen of the 
 World, a series of letters supposed to be written from London 
 by a Chinese. No man had the art of displaying with more 
 advantage as a writer, whatever literary acquisitions he 
 made. 'Nihil quod tetigit non ornavit 1 .' His mind resembled 
 a fertile, but thin soil. There was a quick, but not a strong 
 vegetation, of whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. No 
 deep root could be struck. The oak of the forest did not 
 grow there; but the elegant shrubbery and the fragrant 
 parterre appeared in gay succession. It has been generally 
 circulated and believed that he was a mere fool in conver- 
 sation; but, in truth, this has been greatly exaggerated. He 
 had, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry 
 of ideas which we often find in his countrymen, and which 
 sometimes produces a laughable confusion in expressing 
 them. He was very much what the French call un etourdi, 
 and from vanity and an eager desire of being conspicuous 
 wherever he was, he frequently talked carelessly without 
 knowledge of the subject, or even without thought. His 
 person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his 
 deportment that of a scholar aukwardly affecting the easy 
 gentleman. Those who were in any way distinguished, ex- 
 cited envy in him to so ridiculous an excess, that the in- 
 stances of it are hardly credible. When accompanying two 
 beautiful young ladies 2 with their mother on a tour in France, 
 
 > See below, p. 316. ED. 
 
 1 These were the Misses Horneck. known otherwise as ' Little Com- 
 edy' and 'The Jessamy Bride.' ED.
 
 106 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [i?63 
 
 he was seriously angry that more attention was paid to them 
 than to him; and once at the exhibition of the Fantoccini in 
 London, when those who sat next him observed with what 
 dexterity a puppet was made to toss a pike, he could not 
 bear that it should have such praise, and exclaimed with 
 some warmth, 'Pshaw! I can do it better myself.' 
 
 He boasted to me at this time of the power of his pen 
 in commanding money, which I believe was true in a certain 
 degree, though in the instance he gave he was by no means 
 correct. He told me that he had sold a novel for four hun- 
 dred pounds. This was his Vicar of Wakefield. But John- 
 son informed me, that he had made the bargain for Gold- 
 smith, and the price was sixty pounds. 'And, Sir, (said he,) 
 a sufficient price too, when it was sold; for then the fame 
 of Goldsmith had not been elevated, as it afterwards was, 
 by his Traveller; and the bookseller had such faint hopes of 
 profit by his bargain, that he kept the manuscript by him 
 a long time, and did not publish it till after The Traveller 
 had appeared. Then, to be sure, it was accidentally worth 
 more money.' 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi and Sir John Hawkins have strangely mis- 
 stated the history of Goldsmith's situation and Johnson's 
 friendly interference, when this novel was sold. I shall give 
 it authentically from Johnson's own exact narration : ' I 
 received one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that 
 he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to 
 come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as 
 possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him 
 directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was drest, and 
 found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at 
 which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had 
 already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira 
 and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, de- 
 sired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the 
 means by which he might be extricated. He then told me 
 that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced 
 to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit; told the land- 
 lady I should soon return, and having gone to a bookseller, 
 sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money,
 
 1763] WITH GOLDSMITH AND JOHNSON 107 
 
 and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady 
 in a high tone for having used him so ill.' 
 
 My next meeting with Johnson was on Friday the 1st of 
 July, when he and I and Dr. Goldsmith supped together at 
 the Mitre. I was before this time pretty well acquainted 
 with Goldsmith, who was one of the brightest ornaments of 
 the Johnsonian school. Goldsmith's respectful attachment 
 to Johnson was then at its height; for his own literary repu- 
 tation had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite 
 a vain desire of competition with his great Master. He had 
 increased my admiration of the goodness of Johnson's heart, 
 by incidental remarks in the course of conversation, such as, 
 when I mentioned Mr. Levet, whom he entertained under his 
 roof, 'He is poor and honest, which is recommendation 
 enough to Johnson;' and when I wondered that he was very 
 kind to a man of whom I had heard a very bad character, 
 'He is now become miserable, and that insures the protec- 
 tion of Johnson.' 
 
 He talked very contemptuously of Churchill's poetry, 
 observing, that 'it had a temporary currency, only from its 
 audacity of abuse, and being filled with living names, and 
 that it would sink into oblivion.' I ventured to hint that 
 he was not quite a fair judge, as Churchill had attacked 
 him violently. JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I am a very fair judge. 
 He did not attack me violently till he found I did not like 
 his poetry; and his attack on me shall not prevent me from 
 continuing to say what I think of him, from an apprehension 
 that it may be ascribed to resentment. No, Sir, I called 
 the fellow a blockhead at first, and I will call him a block- 
 head still. However, I will acknowledge that I have a better 
 opinion of him now, than I once had; for he has shewn 
 more fertility than I expected. To be sure, he is a tree that 
 cannot produce good fruit: he only bears crabs. But, Sir, 
 a tree that produces a great many crabs is better than a 
 tr*?e which produces only a few.' 
 
 Let me here apologize for the imperfect manner in which 
 I &m obliged to exhibit Johnson's conversation at this period. 
 In the early part of my acquaintance with him, I was so 
 wvapt in admiration of his extraordinary colloquial talents,
 
 108 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 and so little accustomed to his peculiar mode of expression, 
 that I found it extremely difficult to recollect and record his 
 conversation with its genuine vigour and vivacity. In prog- 
 ress of time, when my mind was, as it were, strongly impreg- 
 nated with the Johnsonian cether, I could, with much more 
 facility and exactness, carry in my memory and commit to 
 paper the exuberant variety of his wisdom and wit. 
 
 At this time Miss Williams, as she was then called, though 
 she did not reside with him in the Temple under his roof, 
 but had lodgings in Bolt-court, Fleet-street, had so much of 
 his attention, that he every night drank tea with her before 
 he went home, however late it might be, and she always sat 
 up for him. This, it may be fairly conjectured, was not 
 alone a proof of his regard for her, but of his own unwilling- 
 ness to go into solitude, before that unseasonable hour at 
 which he had habituated himself to expect the oblivion of 
 repose. Dr. Goldsmith, being a privileged man, went with 
 him this night, strutting away, and calling to me with an 
 air of superiority, like that of an esoterick over an exoterick 
 disciple of a sage of antiquity, 'I go to Miss Williams.' I 
 confess, I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which 
 he seemed so proud; but it was not long before I obtained 
 the same mark of distinction. 
 
 On Tuesday the 5th of July, I again visited Johnson. 
 
 Talking of London, he observed, 'Sir, if you wish to have 
 a just notion of the magnitude of this city, you must not be 
 satisfied with seeing its great streets and squares, but must 
 survey the innumerable little lanes and courts. It is not in 
 the showy evolutions of buildings, but in the multiplicity of 
 human habitations which are crouded together, that the 
 wonderful immensity of London consists.' 
 
 On Wednesday, July 6, he was engaged to sup with me at 
 my lodgings in Downing-street, Westminster. But on the 
 preceding night my landlord having behaved very rudely 
 to me and some company who were with me, I had resolved 
 not to remain another night in his house. I was exceedingly 
 uneasy at the aukward appearance I supposed I should make 
 to Johnson and the other gentlemen whom I had invited, 
 not being able to receive them at home, and being obliged
 
 1763] GOLDSMITH EAGER TO SHINE 109 
 
 to order supper at the Mitre. I went to Johnson in the 
 morning, and talked of it as a serious distress. He laughed, 
 and said, 'Consider, Sir, how insignificant this will appear a 
 twelvemonth hence.' Were this consideration to be applied 
 to most of the little vexatious incidents of life, by which our 
 quiet is too often disturbed, it would prevent many painful 
 sensations. I have tried it frequently, with good effect. 
 'There is nothing (continued he) in this mighty misfortune; 
 nay, we shall be better at the Mitre.' 
 
 I had as my guests this evening at the Mitre tavern, Dr. 
 Johnson, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Thomas Davies, Mr. Eccles, an 
 Irish gentleman, for whose agreeable company I was obliged 
 to Mr. Davies, and the Reverend Mr. John Ogilvie, who 
 was desirous of being in company with my illustrious friend, 
 while I, in my turn, was proud to have the honour of shew- 
 ing one of my countrymen upon what easy terms Johnson 
 permitted me to live with him. 
 
 Goldsmith, as usual, endeavoured, with too much eager- 
 ness, to shine, and disputed very warmly with Johnson 
 against the well-known maxim of the British constitution, 
 'the King can do no wrong;' affirming, that 'what was 
 morally false could not be politically true; and as the King 
 might, in the exercise of his regal power, command and cause 
 the doing of what was wrong, it certainly might be said, in 
 sense and in reason, that he could do wrong.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, you are to consider, that in our constitution, according 
 to its true principles, the King is the head; he is supreme; 
 he is above every thing, and there is no power by which he 
 can be tried. Therefore, it is, Sir, that we hold the King 
 can do no wrong; that whatever may happen to be wrong 
 in government may not be above our reach, by being ascribed 
 to Majesty. Redress is always to be had against oppression, 
 by punishing the immediate agents. The King, though he 
 should command, cannot force a Judge to condemn a man 
 unjustly; therefore it is the Judge whom we prosecute and 
 punish. Political institutions are formed upon the con- 
 sideration of what will most frequently tend to the good of 
 the whole, although now and then exceptions may occur. 
 Thus it is better in general that a nation should have a su-
 
 110 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 preme legislative power, although it may at times be abused. 
 And then, Sir, there is this consideration, that if the abuse be 
 enormous, Nature will rise up, and claiming her original rights, 
 overturn a corrupt political system.' I mark this animated 
 sentence with peculiar pleasure, as a noble instance of that 
 truly dignified spirit of freedom which ever glowed in his 
 heart, though he was charged with slavish tenets by super- 
 ficial observers; because he was at all times indignant against 
 that false patriotism, that pretended love of freedom, that 
 unruly restlessness, which is inconsistent with the stable 
 authority of any good government. 
 
 ' Bayle's Dictionary is a very useful work for those to con- 
 sult who love the biographical part of literature, which is 
 what I love most.' 
 
 Talking of the eminent writers in Queen Anne's reign, he 
 observed, 'I think Dr. Arbuthnot the first man among them. 
 He was the most universal genius, being an excellent physi- 
 cian, a man of deep learning, and a man of much humour. 
 Mr. Addison was, to be sure, a great man; his learning was 
 not profound ; but his morality, his humour, and his elegance 
 of writing, set him very high.' 
 
 Mr. Ogilvie was unlucky enough to choose for the topick 
 of his conversation the praises of his native country. He 
 began with saying, that there was very rich land round 
 Edinburgh. Goldsmith, who had studied physick there, 
 'Contradicted this, very untruly, with a sneering laugh. Dis- 
 concerted a little by this, Mr. Ogilvie then took new ground, 
 where, I suppose, he thought himself perfectly safe; for he 
 observed, that Scotland had a great many noble wild pros- 
 pects. JOHNSON. 'I believe, Sir, you have a great many. 
 Norway, too, has noble wild prospects; and Lapland is re- 
 markable for prodigious noble wild prospects. But, Sir, 
 let me tell you, the noblest prospect which a Scotchman 
 ever sees, is the high road that leads him to England ! ' 
 This unexpected and pointed sally produced a roar of ap- 
 plause. After all, however, those, who admire the rude 
 grandeur of Nature, cannot deny it to Caledonia. 
 
 On Saturday, July 9, I found Johnson surrounded with a 
 numerous levee, but have not preserved any part of his con-
 
 1763] THE EXCELLENCE OF RHYME 111 
 
 versation. On the 14th we had another evening by ourselves 
 at the Mitre. It happening to be a very rainy night, I made 
 some common-place observations on the relaxation of nerves 
 and depression of spirits which such weather occasioned; 
 adding, however, that it was good for the vegetable creation. 
 Johnson, who, as we have already seen, denied that the 
 temperature of the air had any influence on the human 
 frame, answered, with a smile of ridicule. 'Why yes, Sir, it 
 is good for vegetables, and for the animals who eat those 
 vegetables, and for the animals who eat those animals.' 
 This observation of his aptly enough introduced a good 
 supper; and I soon forgot, in Johnson's company, the influ- 
 ence of a moist atmosphere. 
 
 Feeling myself now quite at ease as his companion, though 
 I had all possible reverence for him, I expressed a regret that 
 I could not be so easy with my father, though he was not 
 much older than Johnson, and certainly however respectable 
 had not more learning and greater abilities to depress me. 
 I asked him the reason of this. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I 
 am a man of the world. I live in the world, and I take, in 
 some degree, the colour of the world as it moves along. 
 Your father is a Judge in a remote part of the island, and 
 all his notions are taken from the old world. Besides, Sir, 
 there must always be a struggle between a father and son, 
 while one aims at power and the other at independence.' 
 
 He enlarged very convincingly upon the excellence of 
 rhyme over blank verse in English poetry. I mentioned to 
 him that Dr. Adam Smith, in his lectures upon composition, 
 when I studied under him in the College of Glasgow, had 
 maintained the same opinion strenuously, and I repeated 
 some of his arguments. JOHNSON. ' Sir, I was once in com- 
 pany with Smith, and we did not take to each other; but 
 had I known that he loved rhyme as much as you tell me he 
 does, I should have HUGGED him.' 
 
 'Idleness is a disease which must be combated; but I 
 would not advise a rigid adherence to a particular plan of 
 study. I myself have never persisted in any plan for two 
 days together. A man ought to read just as inclination leads 
 him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good.
 
 112 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 11703 
 
 A young man should read five hours in a day, and so may 
 acquire a great deal of knowledge.' 
 
 To such a degree of unrestrained frankness had he now 
 accustomed me, that in the course of this evening I talked of 
 the numerous reflections which had been thrown out against 
 him on account of his having accepted a pension from his 
 present Majesty. 'Why, Sir, (said he, with a hearty laugh,) 
 it is a mighty foolish noise that they make. 1 I have accepted 
 of a pension as a reward which has been thought due to my 
 literary merit; and now that I have this pension, I am the 
 same man in every respect that I have ever been ; I retain the 
 same principles. It is true, that I cannot now curse (smiling) 
 the House of Hanover; nor would it be decent for me to 
 drink King James's health in the wine that King George 
 gives me money to pay for. But, Sir, I think that the plea- 
 sure of cursing the House of Hanover, and drinking King 
 James's health, are amply overbalanced by three hundred 
 pounds a year.' 
 
 There was here, most certainly, an affectation of more 
 Jacobitism than he really had. Yet there is no doubt that 
 at earlier periods he was wont often to exercise both his 
 pleasantry and ingenuity in talking Jacobitism. My much 
 respected friend, Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, has 
 favoured me with the following admirable instance from his 
 Lordship's own recollection. One day, when dining at old 
 Mr. Langton's where Miss Roberts, his niece, was one of 
 the company, Johnson, with his usual complacent attention 
 to the fair sex, took her by the hand and said, 'My dear, 
 I hope you are a Jacobite.' Old Mr. Langton, who, though 
 a high and steady Tory, was attached to the present Royal 
 Family, seemed offended, and asked Johnson, with great 
 warmth, what he could mean by putting such a question to 
 his niece? 'Why, Sir, (said Johnson) I meant no offence 
 to your niece, I meant her a great compliment. A Jacobite, 
 Sir, believes in the divine right of Kings. He that believes 
 in the divine right of Kings believes in a Divinity. A 
 
 1 When I mentioned the same idle clamour to him several years 
 afterwards, he said, with a smile, ' I wish my pension were twice as 
 large, that they might make twice as much noise.' BOSWELL.
 
 1763] HIS JACOBITISM 113 
 
 Jacobite believes in the divine right of Bishops. He that 
 believes in the divine right of Bishops believes in the divine 
 authority of the Christian religion. Therefore, Sir, a Jaco- 
 bite is neither an Atheist nor a Deist. That cannot be said 
 of a Whig; for Whiggism is a negation of all principle 1 .' 
 
 He advised me, when abroad, to be as much as I could 
 with the Professors in the Universities, and with the Clergy; 
 for from their conversation I might expect the best accounts 
 of every thing in whatever country I should be, with the 
 additional advantage of keeping my learning alive. 
 
 It will be observed, that when giving me advice as to my 
 travels, Dr. Johnson did not dwell upon cities, and palaces, 
 and pictures, and shows, and Arcadian scenes. He was of 
 Lord Essex's opinion, who advises his kinsman Roger Earl 
 of Rutland, 'rather to go an hundred miles to speak with 
 one wise man, than five miles to see a fair town.' 
 
 I described to him an impudent fellow from Scotland, who 
 affected to be a savage, and railed at all established systems. 
 JOHNSON. 'There is nothing surprizing in this, Sir. He 
 wants to make himself conspicuous. He would tumble in 
 a hogstye, as long as you looked at him and called to him to 
 come out. But let him alone, never mind him, and he'll 
 soon give it over.' 
 
 I added, that the same person maintained that there was 
 no distinction between virtue and vice. JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 Sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying; 
 and I see not what honour he can propose to himself from 
 having the character of a lyar. But if he does really think 
 that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, 
 Sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.' 
 
 He recommended to me to keep a journal of my life, full 
 and unreserved. He said it would be a very good exercise, 
 and would yield me great satisfaction when the particulars 
 
 1 He used to tell, with great humour, from my relation to him, the 
 following little story of my early years, which was literally true : ' Bos- 
 well, in the year 1745, was a fine boy, wore a white cockade, and 
 prayed for King James, till one of his uncles (General Cochran) gave 
 him a shilling on condition that he should pray for King George, 
 which he accordingly did. So you see (says Boswell) that Whigs of 
 all ages are made the same way.' BOSWELL.
 
 114 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 were faded from my remembrance. I was uncommonly 
 fortunate in having had a previous coincidence of opinion 
 with him upon this subject, for I had kept such a journal 
 for some time; and it was no small pleasure to me to have 
 this to tell him, and to receive his approbation. He coun- 
 selled me to keep it private, and said I might surely have 
 a friend who would burn it in case of my death. From this 
 habit I have been enabled to give the world so many anec- 
 dotes, which would otherwise have been lost to posterity. I 
 mentioned that I was afraid I put into my journal too many 
 little incidents. JOHNSON. "There is nothing, Sir, too little 
 for so little a creature as man. It is by studying little things 
 that we attain the great art of having as little misery and as 
 much happiness as possible.' 
 
 Next morning Mr. Dempster happened to call on me, and 
 was so much struck even with the imperfect account which 
 I gave him of Dr. Johnson's conversation, that to his honour 
 be it recorded, when I complained that drinking port and 
 sitting up late with him affected my nerves for some time 
 after, he said, 'One had better be palsied at eighteen than 
 not keep company with such a man.' 
 
 On Tuesday, July 18, I found tall Sir Thomas Robinson 
 sitting with Johnson. Sir Thomas said, that the king of 
 Prussia valued himself upon three things; upon being a 
 hero, a musician, and an authour. JOHNSON. 'Pretty well, 
 Sir, for one man. As to his being an authour, I have not 
 looked at his poetry; but his prose is poor stuff. He writes 
 just as you might suppose Voltaire's footboy to do, who has 
 been his amanuensis. He has such parts as the valet might 
 have, and about as much of the colouring of the style as 
 might be got by transcribing his works.' When I was at 
 Ferney, I repeated this to Voltaire, in order to reconcile him 
 somewhat to Johnson, whom he, in affecting the English 
 mode of expression, had previously characterised as 'a super- 
 stitious dog;' but after hearing such a criticism on Fred- 
 erick the Great, with whom he was then on. bad terms, he 
 exclaimed, ' An honest fellow ! ' 
 
 Mr. Levet this day shewed me Dr. Johnson's library, 
 which was contained in two garrets over his Chambers, where
 
 1763] JOURNAL-KEEPING 115 
 
 Lintot, son of the celebrated bookseller of that name, had 
 formerly his warehouse. I found a number of good books, 
 but very dusty and in great confusion. The floor was 
 strewed with manuscript leaves, in Johnson's own hand- 
 writing, which I beheld with a degree of veneration, sup- 
 posing they perhaps might contain portions of The Rambler 
 or of Rasselas. I observed an apparatus for chymical ex- 
 periments, of which Johnson was all his life very fond. The 
 place seemed to be very favourable for retirement and medi- 
 tation. Johnson told me, that he went up thither without 
 mentioning it to his servant, when he wanted to study, 
 secure from interruption ; for he would not allow his servant 
 to say he was not at home when he really was. 'A servant's 
 strict regard for truth, (said he) must be weakened by such 
 a practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a 
 form of denial ; but few servants are such nice distinguishes. 
 If I accustom a servant to tell a lie for me, have I not reason 
 to apprehend that he will tell many lies for himself.' 
 
 Mr. Temple, now vicar of St. Gluvias, Cornwall, who had 
 been my intimate friend for many years, had at this time 
 chambers in Farrar's-buildings, at the bottom of Inner 
 Temple-lane, which he kindly lent me upon my quitting my 
 lodgings, he being to return to Trinity Hall, Cambridge. 
 I found them particularly convenient for me, as they were 
 so near Dr. Johnson's. 
 
 On Wednesday, July 20, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Dempster, and 
 my uncle Dr. Boswell, who happened to be now in London, 
 supped with me at these Chambers. JOHNSON. ' Pity is not 
 natural to man. Children are always cruel. Savages are 
 always cruel. Pity is acquired and improved by the culti- 
 vation of reason. We may have uneasy sensations from 
 seeing a creature in distress, without pity; for we have not 
 pity unless we wish to relieve them. When I am on my 
 way to dine with a friend, and finding it late, have bid the 
 coachman make haste, if I happen to attend when he whips 
 his horses, I may feel unpleasantly that the animals are put 
 to pain, but I do not wish him to desist. No, Sir, I wish him 
 to drive on.' 
 
 Rousseau's treatise on the inequality of mankind was at
 
 116 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 this time a fashionable topick. It gave rise to an observa- 
 tion by Mr. Dempster, that the advantages of fortune and 
 rank were nothing to a wise man, who ought to value only 
 merit. JOHNSON. 'If man were a savage, living in the 
 woods by himself, this might be true; but in civilized society 
 we all depend upon each other, and our happiness is very 
 much owing to the good opinion of mankind. Now, Sir, in 
 civilized society, external advantages make us more respected. 
 A man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better 
 reception than he who has a bad one. Sir, you may analyse 
 this, and say what is there in it? But that will avail you 
 nothing, for it is a part of a general system. Pound St. 
 Paul's Church into atoms, and consider any single atom; 
 it is, to be sure, good for nothing: but, put all these atoms 
 together, and you have St. Paul's Church. So it is with 
 human felicity, which is made up of many ingredients, each 
 of which may be shewn to be very insignificant. In civilized 
 society, personal merit will not serve you so much as money 
 will. Sir, you may make the experiment. Go into the street, 
 and give one man a lecture on morality, and another a shil- 
 ling, and see which will respect you most. If you wish only 
 to support nature, Sir William Petty fixes your allowance at 
 three pounds a year; but as times are much altered, let us 
 call it six pounds. This sum will fill your belly, shelter you 
 from the weather, and even get you a strong lasting coat, 
 supposing it to be made of good bull's hide. Now, Sir, all 
 beyond this is artificial, and is desired in order to obtain 
 a greater degree of respect from our fellow-creatures. And, 
 Sir, if six hundred pounds a year procure a man more con- 
 sequence, and, of course, more happiness than six pounds 
 a year, the same proportion will hold as to six thousand, and 
 so on as far as opulence can be carried. Perhaps he who has 
 a large fortune may not be so happy as he who has a small 
 one; but that must proceed from other causes than from his 
 having the large fortune: for, cceteris paribus, he who is 
 rich in a civilized society, must be happier than he who is 
 poor; as riches, if properly used, (and it is a man's own fault 
 if they are not,) must be productive of the highest advan- 
 tages. Money, to be sure, of itself is of no use; for its only
 
 1763] ON ROUSSEAU 117 
 
 use is to part with it. Rousseau, and all those who deal in 
 paradoxes, are led away by a childish desire of novelty. 
 When I was a boy, I used always to choose the wrong side of 
 a debate, because most ingenious things, that is to say, 
 most new things, could be said upon it. Sir, there is nothing 
 for which you may not muster up more plausible arguments, 
 than those which are urged against wealth and other external 
 advantages. Why, now, there is stealing; why should it 
 be thought a crime? When we consider by what unjust 
 methods property has been often acquired, and that what 
 was unjustly got it must be unjust to keep, where is the 
 harm in one man's taking the property of another from him ? 
 Besides, Sir, when we consider the bad use that many people 
 make of their property, and how much better use the thief 
 may make of it, it may be defended as a very allowable prac- 
 tice. Yet, Sir, the experience of mankind has discovered 
 stealing to be so very bad a thing, that they make no scruple 
 to hang a man for it. When I was running about this town 
 a very poor fellow, I was a great arguer for the advantages 
 of poverty; but I was, at the same time, very sorry to be 
 poor. Sir, all the arguments which are brought to represent 
 poverty as no evil, shew it to be evidently a great evil. You 
 never find people labouring to convince you that you may 
 live very happily upon a plentiful fortune. So you hear peo- 
 ple talking how miserable a King must be; and yet they all 
 wish to be in his place.' 
 
 It was suggested that Kings must be unhappy, because 
 they are deprived of the greatest of all satisfactions, easy 
 and unreserved society. JOHNSON. "That is an ill-founded 
 notion. Being a King does not exclude a man from sucht 
 society. Great Kings have always been social. The King 
 of Prussia, the only great King at present, is very social. 
 Charles the Second, the last King of England who was a 
 man of parts, was social; and our Henrys and Edwards were, 
 all social.' 
 
 Mr. Dempster having endeavoured to maintain that in- 
 trinsick merit ought to make the only distinction amongst 
 mankind. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, mankind have found that 
 this cannot be. How shall we determine the proportion of
 
 118 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON U763 
 
 intrinsick merit? Were that to be the only distinction 
 amongst mankind, we should soon quarrel about the degrees 
 of it. Were all distinctions abolished, the strongest would 
 not long acquiesce, but would endeavour to obtain a superi- 
 ority by their bodily strength. But, Sir, as subordination 
 is very necessary for society, and contentions for superiority 
 very dangerous, mankind, that is to say, all civilized nations, 
 have settled it upon a plain invariable principle. A man is 
 born to hereditary rank; or his being appointed to certain 
 offices, gives him a certain rank. Subordination tends 
 greatly to human happiness. Were we all upon an equality, 
 we should have no other enjoyment than mere animal 
 pleasure.' 
 
 He took care to guard himself against any possible sus- 
 picion that his settled principles of reverence for rank and 
 respect for wealth were at all owing to mean or interested 
 motives; for he asserted his own independence as a literary 
 man. 'No man (said he) who ever lived by literature, has 
 lived more independently than I have done.' He said he 
 had taken longer time than he needed to have done in com- 
 posing his Dictionary. He received our compliments upon 
 that great work with complacency, and told us that the 
 Academia della Crusca could scarcely believe that it was 
 done by one man. 
 
 At night 1 Mr. Johnson and I supped in a private room at 
 the Turk's Head coffee-house, in the Strand. 'I encourage 
 this house (said he;) for the mistress of it is a good civil 
 woman, and has not much business.' 
 
 'Sir, I love the acquaintance of young people; because, 
 in the first place, I don't like to think myself growing old. 
 In the next place, young acquaintances must last longest, if 
 they do last; and then, Sir, young men have more virtue 
 than old men: they have more generous sentiments in every 
 respect. I love the young dogs of this age: they have more 
 wit and humour and knowledge of life than we had; but then 
 the dogs are not so good scholars. Sir, in my early years 
 I read very hard. It is a sad reflection, but a true one, that 
 I knew almost as much at eighteen as I do now. My judge- 
 
 Julv 2!.
 
 1763] RESPECT FOR RANK 119 
 
 ment, to be sure, was not so good; but I had all the facts. 
 I remember very well, when I was at Oxford, an old gentle- 
 man said to me, "Young man, ply your book diligently now, 
 and acquire a stock of knowledge; for when years come 
 upon you, you will find that poring upon books will be but 
 an irksome task.'" 
 
 He again insisted on the duty of maintaining subordina- 
 tion of rank. 'Sir, I would no more deprive a nobleman of 
 his respect, than of his money. I consider myself as acting 
 a part in the great system of society, and I do to others as 
 I would have them to do to me. I would behave to a noble- 
 man as I should expect he would behave to me, were I a 
 nobleman and he Sam. Johnson. Sir, there is one Mrs. 
 Macaulay 1 in this town, a great republican. One day when 
 I was at her house, I put on a very grave countenance, and 
 said to her, "Madam, I am now become a convert to your 
 way of thinking. I am convinced that all mankind are upon 
 an equal footing; and to give you an unquestionable proof, 
 Madam, that I am in earnest, here is a very sensible, civil, 
 well-behaved fellow-citizen, your footman; I desire that he 
 may be allowed to sit down and dine with us." I thus, Sir, 
 shewed her the absurdity of the levelling doctrine. She has 
 never liked me since. Sir, your levellers wish to level down 
 as far as themselves; but they cannot bear levelling up to 
 themselves. They would all have some people under them; 
 why not then have some people above them ? ' I mentioned 
 a certain authour who disgusted me by his forwardness, and 
 by shewing no deference to noblemen into whose company he 
 was admitted. JOHNSON. 'Suppose a shoemaker should 
 claim an equality with him, as he does with a Lord; how 
 he would stare. "Why, Sir, do you stare? (says the shoe- 
 maker,) I do great service to society. 'Tis true I am paid 
 for doing it; but so are you, Sir: and I am sorry to say it, 
 paid better than I am, for doing something not so necessary. 
 For mankind could do better without your books, than with- 
 out my shoes." Thus, Sir, there would be a perpetual 
 
 1 This one Mrs. Macaulay was the same personage who afterwards 
 made herself so much known as ' the celebrated female historian.' 
 BOSWELL.
 
 120 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 struggle for precedence, were there no fixed invariable rules 
 for the distinction of rank, which creates no jealousy, as it 
 is allowed to be accidental.' 
 
 He said he would go to the Hebrides with me, when I 
 returned from my travels, unless some very good companion 
 should offer when I was absent, which he did not think prob- 
 able; adding, 'There are few people to whom I take so much 
 to as you.' And when I talked of my leaving England, he 
 said with a very affectionate air, 'My dear Boswell, I should 
 be very unhappy at parting, did I think we were not to meet 
 again.' I cannot too often remind my readers, that although 
 such instances of his kindness are doubtless very flattering 
 to me, yet I hope my recording them will be ascribed to a 
 better motive than to vanity; for they afford unquestionable 
 evidence of his tenderness and complacency, which some, 
 while they were forced to acknowledge his great powers, 
 have been so strenuous to deny. 
 
 He maintained that a boy at school was the happiest of 
 human beings. I supported a different opinion, from which 
 I have never yet varied, that a man is happier; and I en- 
 larged upon the anxiety and sufferings which are endured at 
 school. JOHNSON. 'Ah ! Sir, a boy's being flogged is not so 
 severe as a man's having the hiss of the world against him/ 
 
 On Tuesday, July 26, I found Mr. Johnson alone. It was 
 a very wet day, and I again complained of the disagreeable 
 effects of such weather. JOHNSON. ' Sir, this is all imagina- 
 tion, which physicians encourage; for man lives in air, as 
 a fish lives in water; so that if the atmosphere press heavy 
 from above, there is an equal resistance from below. To be 
 sure, bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be 
 abroad; and men cannot labour so well in the open air in 
 bad weather, as in good : but, Sir, a smith or a taylor, whose 
 work is within doors, will surely do as much in rainy weather, 
 as in fair. Some very delicate frames, indeed, may be 
 affected by wet weather; but not common constitutions.' 
 
 We talked of the education of children; and I asked him 
 what he thought was best to teach them first. JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, it is no matter what you teach them first, any more 
 than what leg you shall put into your breeches first. Sir,
 
 1763] OPINION ON SWIFT 121 
 
 you may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in 
 the mean time your breech is bare. Sir, while you are con- 
 sidering which of two things you should teach your child 
 first, another boy has learnt them both.' 
 
 On Thursday, July 28, we again supped in private at the 
 Turk's Head coffee-house. JOHNSON. 'Swift has a higher 
 reputation than he deserves. His excellence is strong sense; 
 for his humour, though very well, is not remarkably good. 
 I doubt whether The Tale of a Tub be his; for he never 
 owned it, and it is much above his usual manner.' 
 
 'Thomson, I think, had as much of the poet about him 
 as most writers. Every thing appeared to him through the 
 medium of his favourite pursuit. He could not have viewed 
 those two candles burning but with a poetical eye.' 
 
 'As to the Christian religion, Sir, besides the strong evi- 
 dence which we have for it, there is a balance in its favour 
 from the number of great men who have been convinced of 
 its truth, after a serious consideration of the question. Gro- 
 tius was an acute man, a lawyer, a man accustomed to ex- 
 amine evidence, and he was convinced. Grotius was not a 
 recluse, but a man of the world, who certainly had no bias 
 to the side of religion. Sir Isaac Newton set out an infidel, 
 and came to be a very firm believer.' 
 
 He this evening recommended to me to perambulate 
 Spain. I said it would amuse him to get a letter from me 
 dated at Salamancha. JOHNSON. ' I love the University of 
 Salamancha; for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to 
 the lawfulness of their conquering America, the University 
 of Salamancha gave it as their opinion that it was not law- 
 ful.' He spoke this with great emotion, and with that gen- 
 erous warmth which dictated the lines in his London, against 
 Spanish encroachment. 
 
 I expressed my opinion of my friend Derrick as but a poor 
 writer. JOHNSON. 'To be sure, Sir, he is; but you are to 
 consider that his being a literary man has got for him all that 
 he has. It has made him King of Bath. Sir, he has nothing 
 to say for himself but that he is a writer. Had he not been 
 a writer, he must have been sweeping the crossings in the 
 streets, and asking halfpence from every body that past.'
 
 122 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 In justice, however, to the memory of Mr. Derrick, who 
 was my first tutor in the ways of London, and shewed me the 
 town in all its variety of departments, both literary and 
 sportive, the particulars of which Dr. Johnson advised me to 
 put in writing, it is proper to mention what Johnson, at a 
 subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an 
 editor: 'Sir, I have often said, that if Derrick's letters had 
 been written by one of a more established name, they would 
 have been thought very pretty letters.' And, 'I sent 
 Derrick to Dryden's relations to gather materials for 
 his life; and I believe he got all that I myself should have 
 got.' 
 
 Johnson said once to me, 'Sir, I honour Derrick for his 
 presence of mind. One night, when Floyd, another poor 
 authour, was wandering about the streets in the night, he 
 found Derrick fast asleep upon a bulk; upon being sud- 
 denly waked, Derrick started up, "My dear Floyd, I am 
 sorry to see you in this destitute state; will you go home 
 with me to my lodgings ?"' 
 
 I again begged his advice as to my method of study at 
 Utrecht. 'Come, (said he) let us make a day of it. Let us 
 go down to Greenwich and dine, and talk of it there.' The 
 following Saturday was fixed for this excursion. 
 
 As we walked along the Strand to-night, arm in arm, 
 a woman of the town accosted us, in the usual enticing 
 manner. 'No, no, my girl, (said Johnson) it won't do.' 
 He, however, did not treat her with harshness, and we talked 
 of the wretched life of such women; and agreed, that much 
 more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced 
 by illicit commerce between the sexes. 
 
 On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler 
 at the Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich. I asked 
 him if he really thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin 
 languages an essential requisite to a good education. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Most certainly, Sir; for those who know them have 
 a very great advantage over those who do not. Nay, Sir, 
 it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people 
 even in the common intercourse of life, which does not ap- 
 pear to be much connected with it.' 'And yet, (said I)
 
 1763] A DAY AT GREENWICH 123 
 
 people go through the world very well, and carry on the busi- 
 ness of life to good advantage, without learning.' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning cannot 
 possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well 
 without learning, as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to 
 the Argonauts, who were the first sailors.' He then called 
 to the boy, 'What would you give, my lad, to know about 
 the Argonauts?' 'Sir, (said the boy,) I would give what I 
 have.' Johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we 
 gave him a double fare. Dr. Johnson then turning to me, 
 ' Sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of 
 mankind; and every human being, whose mind is not de- 
 bauched, will be willing to give all that he has to get knowl- 
 edge.' 
 
 We landed at the Old Swan, and walked to Billingsgate, 
 where we took oars, and moved smoothly along the silver 
 Thames. It was a very fine day. We were entertained with 
 .the immense number and variety of ships that were lying at 
 anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side of the 
 river. 
 
 I talked of preaching, and of the great success which those 
 called Methodists have. JOHNSON. ' Sir, it is owing to their 
 expressing themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which 
 is the only way to do good to the common people, and which 
 clergymen of genius and learning ought to do from a prin- 
 ciple of duty, when it is suited to their congregations; a 
 practice, for which they will be praised by men of sense. 
 To insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases 
 reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to 
 the common people: but to tell them that they may die in 
 a fit of drunkenness, and shew them how dreadful that 
 would be, cannot fail to make a deep impression. Sir, when 
 your Scotch clergy give up their homely manner, religion 
 will soon decay in that country.' Let this observation, as 
 Johnson meant it, be ever remembered. 
 
 I was much pleased to find myself with Johnson at Green- 
 wich, which he celebrates in his London as a favourite scene. 
 I had the poem in my pocket, and read the lines aloud with 
 enthusiasm:
 
 124 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 'On Thames's banks in silent thought we stood: 
 Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood : 
 Pleas'd with the seat which gave ELIZA birth, 
 We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.' 
 
 Afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which 
 was to give me his advice as to a course of study. 
 
 We walked in the evening in Greenwich Park. He asked 
 me, I suppose, by way of trying my disposition, 'Is not this 
 very fine?' Having no exquisite relish of the beauties of 
 Nature, and being more delighted with 'the busy hum of 
 men,' I answered, 'Yes, Sir; but not equal to Fleet-street.' 
 JOHNSON. 'You are right, Sir.' 
 
 I am aware that many of my readers may censure my 
 want of taste. Let me, however, shelter myself under the 
 authority of a very fashionable Baronet in the brilliant world, 
 who, on his attention being called to the fragrance of a May 
 evening in the country, observed, 'This may be very well; 
 but, for my part, I prefer the smell of a flambeau at the play- 
 house.' 
 
 We staid so long at Greenwich, that our sail up the river, 
 in our return to London, was by no means so pleasant as in 
 the morning; for the night air was so cold that it made me 
 shiver. I was the more sensible of it from having sat up 
 all the night before, recollecting and writing in my journal 
 what I thought worthy of preservation; an exertion, which, 
 during the first part of my acquaintance with Johnson, I 
 frequently made. I remember having sat up four nights in 
 one week, without being much incommoded in the day time. 
 
 Johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected 
 by the cold, scolded me, as if my shivering had been a pal- 
 try effeminacy, saying, 'Why do you shiver?' Sir William 
 Scott, of the Commons, told me, that when he complained 
 of a head-ache in the post-chaise, as they were travelling to- 
 gether to Scotland, Johnson treated him in the same manner: 
 'At your age, Sir, I had no head-ache.' 
 
 We concluded the day at the Turk's Head coffee-house 
 very socially. He was pleased to listen to a particular ac- 
 count which I gave him of my family, and of its hereditary
 
 17631 A WOMAN'S PREACHING 125 
 
 estate, as to the extent and population of which he asked 
 questions, and made calculations; recommending, at the 
 same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over 
 whom the proprietor was placed by Providence. He took 
 delight in hearing my description of the romantick seat of 
 my ancestors. 'I must be there, Sir, (said he) and we will 
 live in the old castle; and if there is not a room in it re- 
 maining, we will build one.' I was highly flattered, but could 
 scarcely indulge a hope that Auchinleck would indeed be 
 honoured by his presence, and celebrated by a description, 
 as it afterwards was, in his Journey to the Western Islands. 
 
 After we had again talked of my setting out for Holland, 
 he said, 'I must see thee out of England; I will accompany 
 you to Harwich.' I could not find words to express what I 
 felt upon this unexpected and very great mark of his affec- 
 tionate regard. 
 
 Next day, Sunday, July 31, I told him I had been that 
 morning at a meeting of the people called Quakers, where 
 I had heard a woman preach. JOHNSON. 'Sir, a woman's 
 preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. It is 
 not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.' 
 
 On Tuesday, August 2 (the day of my departure from 
 London having been fixed for the 5th,) Dr. Johnson did me 
 the honour to pass a part of the morning with me at my 
 Chambers. He said, that 'he always felt an inclination to 
 do nothing.' I observed, that it was strange to think that 
 the most indolent man in Britain had written the most 
 laborious work, The English Dictionary. 
 
 I had now made good my title to be a privileged man, 
 and was carried by him in the evening to drink tea with 
 Miss Williams, whom, though under the misfortune of having 
 lost her sight, I found to be agreeable in conversation; for 
 she had a variety of literature, and expressed herself well; 
 but her peculiar value was the intimacy in which she had 
 long lived with Johnson, by which she was well acquainted 
 with his habits, and knew how to lead him on to talk. 
 
 After tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which 
 was a long narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, over- 
 shadowed by some trees. There we sauntered a considera-
 
 126 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 ble time; and I complained to him that my love of London, 
 and of his company was such, that I shrunk almost from the 
 thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally 
 so much desired by young men. He roused me by manly 
 and spirited conversation. He advised me, when settled in 
 any place abroad, to study with an eagerness after knowl- 
 edge, and to apply to Greek an hour every day; and when I 
 was moving about, to read diligently the great book of man- 
 kind. 
 
 On Wednesday, August 3, we had our last social evening 
 at the Turk's Head coffee-house, before my setting out for 
 foreign parts. I had the misfortune, before we parted, to 
 irritate him unintentionally. I mentioned to him how com- 
 mon it was in the world to tell absurd stories of him, and 
 to ascribe to him very strange sayings. JOHNSON. 'What 
 do they make me say, Sir?' BOSWELL. 'Why, Sir, as an 
 instance very strange indeed, (laughing heartily as I spoke,) 
 David Hume told me, you said that you would stand before 
 a battery of cannon, to restore the Convocation to its full 
 powers.' Little did I apprehend that he had actually said 
 this: but I was soon convinced of my errour; for, with a 
 determined look, he thundered out 'And would I not, Sir? 
 Shall the Presbyterian Kirk of Scotland have its General 
 Assembly, and the Church of England be denied its Convo- 
 cation?' He was walking up and down the room while I 
 told him the anecdote; but when he uttered this explosion 
 of high-church zeal, he had come close to my chair, and his 
 eyes flashed with indignation. I bowed to the storm, and 
 diverted the force of it, by leading him to expatiate on the 
 influence which religion derived from maintaining the church 
 with great external respectability. 
 
 On Friday, August 5, we set out early in the morning in 
 the Harwich stage coach. A fat elderly gentlewoman, and a 
 young Dutchman, seemed the most inclined among us to 
 conversation. At the inn where we dined, the gentlewoman 
 said that she had done her best to educate her children; 
 and particularly, that she had never suffered them to be a 
 moment idle. JOHNSON. 'I wish, madam, you would edu- 
 cate me too; for I have been an idle fellow all my life.' 'I
 
 1763] THE HARWICH STAGE COACH 127 
 
 am sure, Sir, (said she) you have not been idle.' JOHNSON. 
 'Nay, Madam, it is very true; and that gentleman there 
 (pointing to me,) has been idle. He was idle at Edinburgh. 
 His father sent him to Glasgow, where he continued to be 
 idle. He then came to London, where he has been very idle; 
 and now he is going to Utrecht, where he will be as idle as 
 ever.' I asked him privately how he could expose me so. 
 JOHXSON. 'Poh, poh! (said he) they knew nothing about 
 you, and will think of it no more.' In the afternoon the 
 gentlewoman talked violently against the Roman CathoHcks, 
 and of the horrours of the Inquisition. To the utter aston- 
 ishment of all the passengers but myself, who knew that he 
 could talk upon any side of a question, he defended the 
 Inquisition, and maintained, that 'false doctrine should be 
 checked on its first appearance; that the civil power should 
 unite with the church in punishing those who dared to at- 
 tack the established religion, and that such only were pun- 
 ished by the Inquisition.' He had in his pocket Pomponius 
 Mela de situ Orbis, in which he read occasionally, and seemed 
 very intent upon ancient geography. Though by no means 
 niggardly, his attention to what was generally right was so 
 minute, that having observed at one of the stages that I 
 ostentatiously gave a shilling to the coachman, when the 
 custom was for each passenger to give only six-pence, he 
 took me aside and scolded me, saying that what I had done 
 would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of 
 the passengers, who gave him no more than his due. This 
 was a just reprimand; for in whatever way a man may in- 
 dulge his generosity or his vanity in spending his money, for 
 the sake of others he ought not to raise the price of any 
 article for which there is a constant demand. 
 
 At supper this night 1 he talked of good eating with un- 
 common satisfaction. ' Some people (said he,) have a foolish 
 way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they 
 eat. For my part, I mind my belly very studiously, and 
 very carefully; for I look upon it, that he who does not mind 
 his belly will hardly mind anything else.' He now appeared 
 to me Jean Bull philosophe, and he was, for the moment, not 
 'At Colchester. ED.
 
 128 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 only serious but vehement. Yet I have heard him, upon 
 other occasions, talk with great contempt of people who 
 were anxious to gratify their palates; and the 206th number 
 of his Rambler is a masterly essay against gulosity. His 
 practice, indeed, I must acknowledge, may be considered as 
 casting the balance of his different opinions upon this sub- 
 ject; for I never knew any man who relished good eating 
 more than he did. When at table, he was totally absorbed 
 in the business of the moment; his looks seemed rivetted to 
 his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, 
 say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said 
 by others, till he had satisfied his appetite, which was so 
 fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in the 
 act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and gener- 
 ally a strong perspiration was visible. To those whose sen- 
 sations were delicate, this could not but be disgusting; and 
 it was doubtless not very suitable to the character of a 
 philosopher, who should be distinguished by self-command. 
 But it must be owned, that Johnson, though he could be 
 rigidly abstemious, was not a temperate man either in eating 
 or drinking. He could refrain, but he could not use moder- 
 ately. He told me, that he had fasted two days without 
 inconvenience, and that he had never been hungry but once. 
 They who beheld with wonder how much he eat upon all 
 occasions when his dinner was to his taste, could not easily 
 conceive what he must have meant by hunger; and not only 
 was he remarkable for the extraordinary quantity which he 
 eat, but he was, or affected to be, a man of very nice dis- 
 cernment in the science of cookery. He used to descant 
 critically on the dishes which had been at table where he had 
 dined or supped, and to recollect very minutely what he had 
 liked. I remember, when he was in Scotland, his praising 
 'Gordon's palates,' (a dish of palates at the Honourable 
 Alexander Gordon's) with a warmth of expression which 
 might have done honour to more important subjects. 'As 
 for Maclaurin's imitation of a made dish, it was a wretched 
 attempt.' He about the same time was so much displeased 
 with the performances of a nobleman's French cook, that he 
 exclaimed with vehemence, 'I'd throw such a rascal into the
 
 1763] LITTLE WORDS FOR LITTLE MATTERS 129 
 
 river; ' and he then proceeded to alarm a lady at whose house 
 he was to sup, by the following manifesto of his skill: 'I, 
 Madam, who live at a variety of good tables, am a much 
 better judge of cookery, than any person who has a very 
 tolerable cook, but lives much at home; for his palate is 
 gradually adapted to the taste of his cook; whereas, Madam, 
 in trying by a wider range, I can more exquisitely judge.' 
 When invited to dine, even with an intimate friend, he was 
 not pleased if something better than a plain dinner was not 
 prepared for him. I have heard him say on such an occasion, 
 'This was a good dinner enough, to be sure; but it was not 
 a dinner to ask a man to.' On the other hand, he was wont 
 to express, with great glee, his satisfaction when he had been 
 entertained quite to his mind. One day when we had dined 
 with his neighbour and landlord in Bolt-court, Mr. Allen, 
 the printer, whose old housekeeper had studied his taste in 
 every thing, he pronounced this eulogy: 'Sir, we could not 
 have had a better dinner had there been a Synod of Cooks.' 
 
 While we were left by ourselves, after the Dutchman had 
 gone to bed, Dr. Johnson talked of that studied behaviour 
 which many have recommended and practised. He disap- 
 proved of it ; and said, ' I never considered whether I should 
 be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination, for 
 the time, have its course.' 
 
 I teized him with fanciful apprehensions of unhappiness. 
 A moth having fluttered round the candle, and burnt itself, 
 he laid hold of this little incident to admonish me; saying, 
 with a sly look, and in a solemn but quiet tone, 'That crea- 
 ture was its own tormentor, and I believe its name was 
 BOSWELL.' 
 
 Next day we got to Harwich to dinner; and my passage 
 in the packet-boat to Helvoetsluys being secured, and my 
 baggage put on board, we dined at our inn by ourselves. 
 I happened to say it would be terrible if he should not find 
 a speedy opportunity of returning to London, and be con- 
 fined to so dull a place. JOHNSON. 'Don't Sir, accustom 
 yourself to use big words for little matters. It would not be 
 terrible, though I were to be detained some time here.' 
 
 We went and looked at the church, and having gone into
 
 130 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1763 
 
 it and walked up to the altar, Johnson, whose piety was con- 
 stant and fervent, sent me to my knees, saying, 'Now that 
 you are going to leave your native country, recommend 
 yourself to the protection of your CREATOR and REDEEMER.' 
 
 After we came out of the church, we stood talking for some 
 time together of Bishop Berkeley's ingenious- sophistry to 
 prove the non-existence of matter, and that every thing in 
 the universe is merely ideal. I observed, that though we are 
 satisfied his doctrine is not true, it is impossible to refute it. 
 I never shall forget the alacrity with which Johnson an- 
 swered, striking his foot with mighty force against a large 
 stone, till he rebounded from it, 'I refute it thus.' 
 
 My revered friend walked down with me to the beach, 
 where we embraced and parted with tenderness, and en- 
 gaged to correspond by letters. I said, 'I hope, Sir, you 
 will not forget me in my absence.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, 
 it is more likely you should forget me, than that I should 
 forget you.' As the vessel put out to sea, I kept my eyes 
 upon him for a considerable time, while he remained rolling 
 his majestick frame in his usual manner: and at last I per- 
 ceived him walk back into the town, and he disappeared. 
 
 1764: ^TAT. 55.] EARLY in 1764 Johnson paid a visit to 
 the Langton family, at their seat of Langton, in Lincolnshire, 
 where he passed some time, much to his satisfaction. His 
 friend Bennet Langton, it will not be doubted, did every 
 thing in his power to make the place agreeable to so illus- 
 trious a guest; and the elder Mr. Langton and his lady, 
 being fully capable of understanding his value, were not 
 wanting in attention. 
 
 Johnson, during his stay at Langton, had the advantage 
 of a good library, and saw several gentlemen of the neigh- 
 bourhood. I have obtained from Mr. Langton the following 
 particulars of this period. 
 
 He was now fully convinced that he could not have been 
 satisfied with a country living; for, talking of a respectable 
 clergyman in Lincolnshire, he observed, 'This man, Sir, fills 
 up the duties of his life well. I approve of him, but could 
 not imitate him.' 
 
 To a lady who endeavoured to vindicate herself from
 
 1764] THE LITERARY CLUB 131 
 
 blame for neglecting social attention to worthy neighbours, 
 by saying, 'I would go to them if it would do them any good,' 
 he said, ' What good, Madam, do you expect to have in your 
 power to do them? It is shewing them respect, and that is 
 doing them good.' 
 
 So socially accommodating was he, that once when Mr. 
 Langton and he were driving together in a coach, and Mr. 
 Langton complained of being sick, he insisted that they 
 should go out and sit on the back of it in the open air, which 
 they did. And being sensible how strange the appearance 
 must be, observed, that a countryman whom they saw in 
 a field, would probably be thinking, 'If these two madmen 
 should come down, what would become of me?' 
 
 Soon after his return to London, which was in February, 
 was founded that CLUB which existed long without a name, 
 but at Mr. Garrick's funeral became distinguished by the 
 title of THE LITERARY CLUB. Sir Joshua Reynolds had the 
 merit of being the first proposer of it, to which Johnson 
 acceded, and the original members were, Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, Dr. Johnson, Mr. Edmund Burke, Dr. Nugent, Mr. 
 Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Chamier, and 
 Sir John Hawkins. They met at the Turk's Head, in Ger- 
 rard-street, Soho, one evening in every week, at seven, and 
 generally continued their conversation till a pretty late hour. 
 This club has been gradually increased to its present number, 
 thirty-five. After about ten years, instead of supping weekly, 
 it was resolved to dine together once a fortnight during 
 the meeting of Parliament. Their original tavern having 
 been converted into a private house, they moved first to 
 Prince's in Sackville-street, then to Le Teller's in Dover- 
 street, and now meet at Parsloe's, St. James's-street. Be- 
 tween the time of its formation, and the time at which this 
 work is passing through the press, (June 1792,) the following 
 persons, now dead, were members of it : Mr. Dunning, (after- 
 wards Lord Ashburton,) Mr. Samuel Dyer, Mr. Garrick, 
 Dr. Shipley Bishop of St. Asaph, Mr. Vesey, Mr. Thomas 
 Warton and Dr. Adam Smith. The present members are, 
 Mr. Burke, Mr. Langton, Lord Charlemont, Sir Robert 
 Chambers, Dr. Percy Bishop of Dromore, Dr. Barnard
 
 132 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1764 
 
 Bishop of Killaloe, Dr. Marlay Bishop of Clonfert, Mr. Fox, 
 Dr. George Fordyce, Sir William Scott, Sir Joseph Banks, 
 Sir Charles Bunbury, Mr. Windham of Norfolk, Mr. Sheridan, 
 Mr. Gibbon, Sir William Jones, Mr. Colman, Mr. Steevens, 
 Dr. Burney, Dr. Joseph Warton, Mr. Malone, Lord Ossory, 
 Lord Spencer, Lord Lucan, Lord Palmerston, Lord Eliot, 
 Lord Macartney, Mr. Richard Burke junior, Sir William 
 Hamilton, Dr. Warren, Mr. Courtenay, Dr. Hinchcliffe 
 Bishop of Peterborough, the Duke of Leeds, Dr. Douglas- 
 Bishop of Salisbury, and the writer of this account. 
 
 Not very long after the institution of our club, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds was speaking of it to Garrick. 'I like it much, 
 (said he), I think I shall be of you.' When Sir Joshua men- 
 tioned this to Dr. Johnson, he was much displeased with the 
 actor's conceit. ' He'll be of iis, (said Johnson) how does he 
 know we will permit him? The first Duke in England has 
 no right to hold such language.' However, when Garrick 
 was regularly proposed some time afterwards, Johnson, 
 though he had taken a momentary offence at his arrogance, 
 warmly and kindly supported him, and he was accordingly 
 elected, was a most agreeable member, and continued to 
 attend our meetings to the time of his death. 
 
 It was Johnson's custom to observe certain days with a pious 
 abstraction; viz. New-year's-day, the day of his wife's death, 
 Good Friday, Easter-day, and his own birth-day. He this 
 year says: 'I have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; 
 having, from the earliest time almost that I can remember, 
 been forming schemes of a better life. I have done nothing. 
 The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of 
 doing is short. GOD, grant me to resolve aright, and to 
 keep my resolutions, for JESUS CHRIST'S sake. Amen.' 
 
 About this time he was afflicted with a very severe return 
 of the hypochondriack disorder, which was ever lurking 
 about him. He was so ill, as, notwithstanding his remark- 
 able love of company, to be entirely averse to society, the 
 most fatal symptom of that malady. Dr. Adams told me, 
 that as an old friend he was admitted to visit him, and that 
 he found him in a deplorable state, sighing, groaning, talking 
 to himself, and restlessly walking from room to room. He
 
 1754] HIS PARTICULARITIES 133 
 
 then used this emphatical expression of the misery which he 
 felt : ' I would consent to have a limb amputated to recover 
 my spirits.' 
 
 Talking to himself was, indeed, one of his singularities ever 
 since I knew him. I was certain that he was frequently 
 uttering pious ejaculations; for fragments of the Lord's 
 Prayer have been distinctly overheard. His friend Mr. 
 Thomas Davies, of whom Churchill says, 
 
 "That Davies hath a very pretty wife,' 
 
 when Dr. Johnson muttered 'lead us not into temptation/ 
 used with waggish and gallant humour to whisper Mrs. 
 Davies, 'You, my dear, are the cause of this.' 
 
 He had another particularity, of which none of his friends 
 ever ventured to ask an explanation. It appeared to me 
 some superstitious habit, which he had contracted early, and 
 from which he had never called upon his reason to disentangle 
 him. This was his anxious care to go out or in at a door or 
 passage by a certain number of steps from a certain point, 
 or at least so as that either his right or his left foot, (I am 
 not certain which,) should constantly make the first actual 
 movement when he came close to the door or passage. Thus 
 I conjecture: for I have, upon innumerable occasions, ob- 
 served him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps 
 with a deep earnestness ; and when he had neglected or gone 
 wrong in this sort of magical movement, I have seen him go 
 back again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the 
 ceremony, and, having gone through it, break from his 
 abstraction, walk briskly on, and join his companion. A 
 strange instance of something of this nature, even when on 
 horseback, happened when he was in the isle of Sky. Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds has observed him to go a good way about, 
 rather than cross a particular alley in Leicester-fields; but 
 this Sir Joshua imputed to his having had some disagreeable 
 recollection associated with it. 
 
 That the most minute singularities which belonged to him, 
 and made very observable parts of his appearance and man- 
 ner, may not be omitted, it is requisite to mention, that while
 
 134 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1764 
 
 talking or even musing as he sat in his chair, he commonly 
 held his head to one side towards his right shoulder, and 
 shook it in a tremulous manner, moving his body backwards 
 and forwards, and rubbing his left knee in the same direction, 
 with the palm of his hand. In the intervals of articulating 
 he made various sounds with his mouth, sometimes as if 
 ruminating, or what is called chewing the cud, sometimes 
 giving a half whistle, sometimes making his tongue play 
 backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like 
 a hen, and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums 
 in front, as if pronouncing quickly under his breath, too, too, 
 too : all this accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful look, 
 but more frequently with a smile. Generally when he had 
 concluded a period, in the course of a dispute, by which time 
 he was a good deal exhausted by violence and vociferation, 
 he used to blow out his breath like a Whale. This I sup- 
 posed was a relief to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a 
 contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the 
 arguments of his opponent fly like chaff before the wind. 
 
 1765: .ETAT. 56.] TRINITY College, Dublin, at this time 
 surprised Johnson with a spontaneous compliment of the 
 highest academical honours, by creating him Doctor of Laws. 
 
 He appears this year to have been seized with a temporary 
 fit of ambition, for he had thoughts both of studying law and 
 of engaging in politics. His 'Prayer before the Study of 
 Law' is truly admirable: 
 
 'Sept. 26, 1765. 
 
 'Almighty GOD, the giver of wisdom, without whose help 
 resolutions are vain, without whose blessing study is ineffec- 
 tual; enable me, if it be thy will, to attain such knowledge 
 as may qualify me to direct the doubtful, and instruct the 
 ignorant; to prevent wrongs and terminate contentions; 
 and grant that I may use that knowledge which I shall 
 attain, to thy glory and my own salvation, for JESUS CHRIST'S 
 sake. Amen.' 
 
 This year was distinguished by his being introduced into 
 the family of Mr. Thrale, one of the most eminent brewers
 
 1765] INTRODUCTION TO THE THRALES 135 
 
 in England, and Member of Parliament for the borough of 
 Southwark. Foreigners are not a little amazed when they 
 hear of brewers, distillers, and men in similar departments 
 of trade, held forth as persons of considerable consequence. 
 In this great commercial country it is natural that a situa- 
 tion which produces much wealth should be considered as 
 very respectable; and, no doubt, honest industry is entitled 
 to esteem. But, perhaps, the too rapid advance of men of 
 low extraction tends to lessen the value of that distinction 
 by birth and gentility, which has ever been found beneficial 
 to the grand scheme of subordination. Johnson used to 
 give this account of the rise of Mr. Thrale's father: 'He 
 worked at six shillings a week for twenty years in the great 
 brewery, which afterwards was his own. The proprietor of 
 it had an only daughter, who was married to a nobleman. 
 It was not fit that a peer should continue the business. On 
 the old man's death, therefore, the brewery was to be sold. 
 To find a purchaser for so large a property was a difficult 
 matter; and, after some time, it was suggested, that it 
 would be adviseable to treat with Thrale, a sensible, active, 
 honest man, who had been employed in the house, and to 
 transfer the whole to him for thirty thousand pounds, security 
 being taken upon the property. This was accordingly set- 
 tled. In eleven years Thrale paid the purchase-money. He 
 acquired a large fortune, and lived to be Member of Parlia- 
 ment for Southwark. But what was most remarkable was 
 the liberality with which he used his riches. He gave his 
 son and daughters the best education. The esteem which 
 his good conduct procured him from the nobleman who had 
 married his master's daughter, made him be treated with 
 much attention; and his son, both at school and at the 
 University of Oxford, associated with young men of the first 
 rank. His allowance from his father, after he left college, 
 was splendid; no less than a thousand a year. This, in a 
 man who had risen as old Thrale did, was a very extraor- 
 dinary instance of generosity. He used to say, "If this 
 young dog does not find so much after I am gone as he ex- 
 pects, let him remember that he has had a great deal in my 
 own time.'"
 
 136 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ires 
 
 The son, though in affluent circumstances, had good sense 
 enough to carry on his father's trade, which was of such 
 extent, that I remember he once told me, he would not quit 
 it for an annuity of ten thousand a year; 'Not (said he,) 
 that I get ten thousand a year by it, but it is an estate to 
 a family.' Having left daughters only, the property was sold 
 for the immense sum of one hundred and thirty-five thousand 
 pounds; a magnificent proof of what may be done by fair 
 trade in no long period of time. 
 
 Mr. Thrale had married Miss Hesther Lynch Salusbury, of 
 good Welsh extraction, a lady of lively talents, improved by 
 education. That Johnson's introduction into Mr. Thrale's 
 family, which contributed so much to the happiness of his 
 life, was owing to her desire for his conversation, is very 
 probable and a general supposition: but it is not the truth. 
 Mr. Murphy, who was intimate with Mr. Thrale, having 
 spoken very highly of Dr. Johnson, he was requested to make 
 them acquainted. This being mentioned to Johnson, he 
 accepted of an invitation to dinner at Thrale's, and was so 
 much pleased with his reception, both by Mr. and Mrs. 
 Thrale, and they so much pleased with him, that his invita- 
 tions to their house were more and more frequent, till at 
 last he became one of the family, and an apartment was 
 appropriated to him, both in their house in Southwark, and 
 in their villa at Streatham. 
 
 Johnson had a very sincere esteem for Mr. Thrale, as a 
 man of excellent principles, a good scholar, well skilled in 
 trade, of a sound understanding, and of manners such as 
 presented the character of a plain independent English 
 'Squire. As this family will frequently be mentioned in the 
 course of the following pages,, and as a false notion has pre- 
 vailed that Mr. Thrale was inferiour, and in some degree 
 insignificant, compared with Mrs. Thrale, it may be proper 
 to give a true state of the case from the authority of John- 
 son himself in his own words. 
 
 ' I know no man, (said he,) who is more master of his wife 
 and family than Thrale. If he but holds up a finger, he is 
 obeyed. It is a great mistake to suppose that she is above 
 him in literary attainments. She is more flippant; but he
 
 1765] HIS SHAKSPEARE PUBLISHED 137 
 
 has ten times her learning: he is a regular scholar; but her 
 learning is that of a school-boy in one of the lower forms.' 
 My readers may naturally wish for some representation of 
 the figures of this couple. Mr. Thrale was tall, well pro- 
 portioned, and stately. As for Madam, or my Mistress, by 
 which epithets Johnson used to mention Mrs. Thrale, she 
 was short, plump, and brisk. She has herself given us a 
 lively view of the idea which Johnson had of her person, 
 on her appearing before him in a dark-coloured gown : ' You 
 little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, 
 however; they are unsuitable in every way. What! have 
 not all insects gay colours?' Mr. Thrale gave his wife a 
 liberal indulgence, both in the choice of their company, and 
 in the mode of entertaining them. He understood and 
 valued Johnson, without remission, from then- first acquain- 
 tance to the day of his death. Mrs. Thrale was enchanted 
 with Johnson's conversation, for its own sake, and had also 
 a very allowable vanity in appearing to be honoured with 
 the attention of so celebrated a man. 
 
 Nothing could be more fortunate for Johnson than this 
 connection. He had at Mr. Thrale's all the comforts and 
 even luxuries of life; his melancholy was diverted, and his 
 irregular habits lessened by association with an agreeable 
 and well-ordered family. He was treated with the utmost 
 respect, and even affection. The vivacity of Mrs. Thrale's 
 literary talk roused him to cheerfulness and exertion, even 
 when they were alone. But this was not often the case; 
 for he found here a constant succession of what gave him 
 the highest enjoyment: the society of the learned, the witty, 
 and the eminent in every way, who were assembled in numer- 
 ous companies, called forth his'wonderful powers, and grati- 
 fied him with admiration, to which no man could be insen- 
 sible. 
 
 In the October of this year he at length gave to the world 
 his edition of Shakspeare, which, if it had no other merit but 
 that of producing his Preface, in which the excellencies and 
 defects of that immortal bard are displayed with a masterly 
 hand, the nation would have had no reason to complain. 
 
 In 1764 and 1765 it should seem that Dr. Johnson was
 
 138 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 so busily employed with his edition of Shakspeare, as to 
 have had little leisure for any other literary exertion, or, 
 indeed, even for private correspondence. He did not favour 
 me with a single letter for more than two years, for which 
 it will appear that he afterwards apologised. 
 
 He was, however, at all times ready to give assistance to 
 his friends, and others, in revising their works, and in writ- 
 ing for them, or greatly improving their Dedications. In 
 that courtly species of composition no man excelled Dr. 
 Johnson. Though the loftiness of his mind prevented him 
 from ever dedicating in his own person, he wrote a very 
 great number of Dedications for others. Some of these, the 
 persons who were favoured with them are unwilling should 
 be mentioned, from a too anxious apprehension, as I think, 
 that they might be suspected of having received larger 
 assistance; and some, after all the diligence I have bestowed, 
 have escaped my enquiries. He told me, a great many 
 years ago, 'he believed he had dedicated to all the Royal 
 Family round;' and it was indifferent to him what was the 
 subject of the work dedicated, provided it were innocent. 
 He once dedicated some Musick for the German Flute to 
 Edward, Duke of York. In writing Dedications for others, 
 he considered himself as by no means speaking his own 
 sentiments. 
 
 I returned to London in February 1 , and found Dr. Johnson 
 in a good house in Johnson's Court, Fleet-street, in which 
 he had accommodated Miss Williams with an apartment on 
 the ground floor, while Mr. Levet occupied his post in the 
 garret: his faithful Francis was still attending upon him. 
 He received me with much kindness. The fragments of 
 our first conversation, which I have preserved, are these: 
 I told him that Voltaire, in a conversation with me, had 
 distinguished Pope and Dryden thus: 'Pope drives a hand- 
 some chariot, with a couple of neat trim nags; Dryden a 
 coach, and six stately horses.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, the 
 truth is, they both drive coaches and six; but Dryden's 
 horses are either galloping or stumbling: Pope's go at a steady 
 ven trot.' He said of Goldsmith's Traveller, which had 
 
 1 1766.
 
 1766] DEISTS 139 
 
 been published in my absence, 'There has not been so fine 
 a poem since Pope's time.' 
 
 Talking of education, 'People have now a-days, (said he,) 
 got a strange opinion that every thing should be taught by 
 lectures. Now, I cannot see that lectures can do so much 
 good as reading the books from which the lectures are taken. 
 I know nothing that can be best taught by lectures, except 
 where experiments are to be shewn. You may teach chym- 
 istry by lectures. You might teach making of shoes by 
 lectures ! ' 
 
 At night I supped with him at the Mitre tavern, that we 
 might renew our social intimacy at the original place of 
 meeting. But there was now a considerable difference in 
 his way of living. Having had an illness, in which he was 
 advised to leave off wine, he had, from that period, con- 
 tinued to abstain from it, and drank only water, or lem- 
 onade. 
 
 I told him that a foreign friend of his, whom I had met 
 with abroad, was so wretchedly perverted to infidelity, that 
 he treated the hopes of immortality with brutal levity; and 
 said, 'As man dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog.' JOHN- 
 SON. '// he dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog.' I added, 
 that this man said to me, 'I hate mankind, for I think my- 
 self one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, he must be very singular in his opinion, if 
 he thinks himself one of the best of men; for none of his 
 friends think him so.' He said, 'no honest man could be a 
 Deist; for no man could be so after a fair examination of 
 the proofs of Christianity.' I named Hume. JOHNSON. 
 'Xo, Sir; Hume owned to a clergyman in the bishoprick of 
 Durham, that he had never read the New Testament with 
 attention.' I mentioned Hume's notion, that all who are 
 happy are equally happy; a little miss with a new gown at 
 a dancing school ball, a general at the head of a victorious 
 army, and an orator, after having made an eloquent speech 
 in a great assembly. JOHNSON. 'Sir, that all who are 
 happy, are equally happy, is not true. A peasant and a 
 philosopher may be equally satisfied, but not equally happy. 
 Happiness consists in the multiplicity of agreeable conscious-
 
 140 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1766 
 
 ness. A peasant has not capacity for having equal happiness 
 with a philosopher.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson was very kind this evening, and said to me, 
 'You have now lived five-and-twenty years, and you have 
 employed them well.' 'Alas, Sir, (said I,) I fear not. Do 
 I know history? Do I know mathema ticks ? Do I know 
 law?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, though you may know no 
 science so well as to be able to teach it, and no profession 
 so well as to be able to follow it, your general mass of knowl- 
 edge of books and men renders you very capable to make 
 yourself master of any science, or fit yourself for any pro- 
 fession.' I mentioned that a gay friend had advised me 
 against being a lawyer, because I should be excelled by 
 plodding block-heads. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, in the for- 
 mulary and statutory part of law, a plodding block-head 
 may excel; but in the ingenious and rational part of it a 
 plodding block-head can never excel.' 
 
 I talked of the mode adopted by some to rise in the world, 
 by courting great men, and asked him whether he had ever 
 submitted to it. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I never was near 
 enough to great men, to court them. You may be pru- 
 dently attached to great men and yet independent. You 
 are not to do what you think wrong; and, Sir, you are to 
 calculate, and not pay too dear for what you get. You 
 must not give a shilling's worth of court for six-pence worth 
 of good. But if you can get a shilling's worth of good for 
 six-pence worth of court, you are a fool if you do not pay 
 court.' 
 
 I talked to him a great deal of what I had seen in Corsica, 
 and of my intention to publish an account of it. He en- 
 couraged me by saying, 'You cannot go to the bottom of 
 the subject; but all that you tell us will be new to us. Give 
 us as many anecdotes as you can.' 
 
 Our next meeting at the Mitre was on Saturday the 15th 
 of February, when I presented to him my old and most in- 
 timate friend, the Reverend Mr. Temple, then of Cambridge. 
 I having mentioned that I had passed some time with Rous- 
 seau in his wild retreat, and having quoted some remark 
 made by Mr. Wilkes, with whom I had spent many pleasant
 
 1766) ROUSSEAU, VOLTAIRE, AND WILKES 141 
 
 hours in Italy, Johnson said (sarcastically,) 'It seems, Sir, 
 you have kept very good company abroad, Rousseau and 
 Wilkes!' Thinking it enough to defend one at a time, I 
 said nothing as to my gay friend, but answered with a smile, 
 'My dear Sir, you don't call Rousseau bad company. Do 
 you really think him a bad man?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, if you 
 are talking jestingly of this, I don't talk with you. If you 
 mean to be serious, I think him one of the worst of men; 
 a rascal who ought to be hunted out of society, as he has been. 
 Three or four nations have expelled him; and it is a shame 
 that he is protected in this country.' BOSWELL. 'I don't 
 deny, Sir, but that his novel may, perhaps, do harm; but I 
 cannot think his intention was bad.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, that 
 will not do. We cannot prove any man's intention to be 
 bad. You may shoot a man through the head, and say 
 you intended to miss him; but the Judge will order you to 
 be hanged. An alleged want of intention, when evil is com- 
 mitted, will not be allowed in a court of justice. Rousseau, 
 Sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign a sentence for 
 his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from 
 the Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to 
 have him work in the plantations.' BOSWELL. 'Sir, do 
 you think him as bad a man as Voltaire?' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, it is difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity 
 between them.' 
 
 On his favourite subject of subordination, Johnson said, 
 'So far is it from being true that men are naturally equal, 
 that no two people can be half an hour together, but one 
 shall acquire an evident superiority over the other.' 
 
 I mentioned the advice given us by philosophers, to con- 
 sole ourselves, when distressed or embarrassed, by thinking 
 of those who are in a worse situation than ourselves. This, 
 I observed, could not apply to all, for there must be some 
 who have nobody worse than they are. JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 to be sure, Sir, there are; but they don't know it. There is 
 no being so poor and so contemptible, who does not think 
 there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible/ 
 
 As my stay in London at this time was very short, I had 
 not. many oDoortunities of being with Dr. Johnson; but
 
 142 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 I felt my veneration for him in no degree lessened, by my 
 having seen multorum hominum mores et urbes. On the con- 
 trary, by having it in my power to compare him with many 
 of the most celebrated persons of other countries, my ad- 
 miration of his extraordinary mind was increased and con^ 
 firmed. 
 
 The roughness, indeed, which sometimes appeared in his 
 manners, was more striking to me now, from my having 
 been accustomed to the studied smooth complying habits 
 of the Continent; and I clearly recognised in him, not with- 
 out respect for his honest conscientious zeal, the same in- 
 dignant and sarcastical mode of treating every attempt to 
 unhinge or weaken good principles. 
 
 One evening when a young gentleman teized him with an 
 account of the infidelity of his servant, who, he said, would 
 not believe the scriptures, because he could not read them 
 in the original tongues, and be sure that they were not in- 
 vented, 'Why, foolish fellow, (said Johnson,) has he any 
 better authority for almost every thing that he believes?' 
 BOSWELL. 'Then the vulgar, Sir, never can know they are 
 right, but must submit themselves to the learned.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'To be sure, Sir. The vulgar are the children of the 
 State, and must be taught like children.' BOSWELL. 'Then, 
 Sir, a poor Turk must be a Mahometan, just as a poor 
 Englishman must be a Christian?' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, 
 Sir; and what then? This now is such stuff as I used to 
 talk to my mother, when I first began to think myself a 
 clever fellow; and she ought to have whipt me for it.' 
 
 Another evening Dr. Goldsmith and I called on him, with 
 the hope of prevailing on him to sup with us at the Mitre. 
 We found him indisposed, and resolved not to go abroad. 
 'Come then, (said Goldsmith,) we will not go to the Mitre 
 to-night, since we cannot have the big man with us.' John- 
 son then called for a bottle of port, of which Goldsmith 
 and I partook, while our friend, now a water-drinker, sat 
 by us. GOLDSMITH. 'I think, Mr. Johnson, you don't go 
 near the theatres now. You give yourself no more concern 
 about a new play, than if you had never had any thing to 
 do with the stage.' JOHNSON. ' Why, Sir, our tastes greatly
 
 1766) CHANGE OF TASTES 143 
 
 alter. The lad does not care for the child's rattle, and the 
 old man does not care for the young man's whore.' GOLD- 
 SMITH. 'Nay, Sir, but your Muse was not a whore.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, I do not think she was. But as we advance in 
 the journey of life, we drop some of the things which have 
 pleased us; whether it be that we are fatigued and don't 
 choose to carry so many things any farther, or that we find 
 other things which we like better.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, 
 why don't you give us something in some other way?' 
 GOLDSMITH. 'Ay, Sir, we have a claim upon you.' JOHN- 
 SON. ' No, Sir, I am not obliged to do any more. No man 
 is obliged to do as much as he can do. A man is to have 
 part of his life to himself. If a soldier has fought a good 
 many campaigns, he is not to be blamed if he retires to ease 
 and tranquillity. A physician, who has practised long in a 
 great city, may be excused if he retires to a small town, 
 and takes less practice. Now, Sir, the good I can do by my 
 conversation bears the same proportion to the good I can do 
 by my writings, that the practice of a physician, retired to 
 a small town, does to his practice in a great city.' BOSWELL. 
 'But I wonder, Sir, you have not more pleasure in writing 
 than in not writing.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you may wonder.' 
 
 He talked of making verses, and observed, 'The great 
 difficulty is to know when you have made good ones. When 
 composing, I have generally had them in my mind, perhaps 
 fifty at a time, walking up and down in my room ; and then 
 I have written them down, and often, from laziness, have 
 written only half lines. I have written a hundred lines in a 
 day. I remember I wrote a hundred lines of The Vanity of 
 Human Wishes in a day. Doctor, (turning to Goldsmith,) 
 I am not quite idle; I made one line t'other day; but I 
 made no more.' GOLDSMITH. 'Let us hear it; we'll put a 
 bad one to it.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, I have forgot it.' 
 
 'To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR 
 SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, What your friends have done, that from 
 your departure till now nothing has been heard of you, none
 
 144 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1766 
 
 of us are able to inform the rest; but as we are all neglected 
 alike, no one thinks himself entitled to the privilege of 
 complaint. 
 
 'I should have known nothing of you or of Langton, from 
 the time that dear Miss Langton left us, had not I met Mr. 
 Simpson, of Lincoln, one day in the street, by whom I was 
 informed that Mr. Langton, your Mamma, and yourself, had 
 been all ill, but that you were all recovered. 
 
 'That sickness should suspend your correspondence, I 
 did not wonder; but hoped that it would be renewed at 
 your recovery. 
 
 'Since you will not inform us where you are, or how you 
 live, I know not whether you desire to know any thing of us. 
 However, I will tell you that THE CLUB subsists; but we 
 have the loss of Burke 's company since he has been engaged 
 in publick business, in which he has gained more reputation 
 than perhaps any man at his [first] appearance ever gained 
 before. He made two speeches in the House for repealing 
 the Stamp-act, which were publickly commended by Mr. 
 Pitt, and have filled the town with wonder. 
 
 'Burke is a great man by nature, and is expected soon to 
 attain civil greatness. I am grown greater too, for I have 
 maintained the news-papers these many weeks; and what 
 is greater still, I have risen every morning since New-year's 
 day, at about eight; when I was up, I have indeed done but 
 little; yet it is no slight advancement to obtain for so many 
 hours more, the consciousness of being. 
 
 'I wish you were in my new study; I am now writing the 
 first letter in it. I think it looks very pretty about me. 
 
 'Dyer is constant at THE CLUB; Hawkins is remiss; I am 
 not over diligent. Dr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. 
 Reynolds, are very constant. Mr. Lye is printing his Saxon 
 and Gothick Dictionary; all THE CLUB subscribes. 
 
 'You will pay my respects to all my Lincolnshire friends. 
 I am, dear Sir, most affectionately your's, 
 
 'March 9. 1766. 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 Johnson's-court, Fleet-street.' 
 
 The Honourable Thomas Hervey and his lady having un- 
 happily disagreed, and being about to separate, Johnson
 
 17671 BUCKINGHAM-HOUSE LIBRARY 145 
 
 interfered as their friend, and wrote him a letter of expostu- 
 lation, which I have not been able to find; but the substance 
 of it is ascertained by a letter to Johnson in answer to it, 
 which Mr. Hervey printed. The occasion of this corre- 
 spondence between Dr. Johnson and Mr. Hervey, was thus 
 related to me by Mr. Beauclerk. ' Tom Hervey had a great 
 liking for Johnson, and in his will had left him a legacy of 
 fifty pounds. One day he said to me, "Johnson may want 
 this money now, more than afterwards. I have a mind to 
 give it him directly. Will you be so good as to carry a fifty 
 pound note from me to him?" This I positively refused to 
 do, as he might, perhaps, have knocked me down for insulting 
 him, and have afterwards put the note in his pocket. But 
 I said, if Hervey would write him a letter, and enclose a 
 fifty pound note, I should take care to deliver it. He ac- 
 cordingly did write him a letter, mentioning that he was 
 only paying a legacy a little sooner. To his letter he added, 
 " P. S. I am going to part with my wife." Johnson then wrote 
 to him, saying nothing of the note, but remonstrating with 
 him against parting with his wife.' 
 
 In February, 1767, there happened one of the most re- 
 markable incidents of Johnson's life, which gratified his 
 monarchical enthusiasm, and which he loved to relate with 
 all its circumstances, when requested by his friends. This 
 was his being honoured by a private conversation with his 
 Majesty, in the library at the Queen's house. He had fre- 
 quently visited those splendid rooms and noble collection of 
 books, which he used to say was more numerous and curious 
 than he supposed any person could have made in the time 
 which the King had employed. Mr. Barnard, the librarian, 
 took care that he should have every accommodation that 
 could contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging 
 his literary taste in that place; so that he had here a very 
 agreeable resource at leisure hours. 
 
 His Majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, 
 was pleased to signify a desire that he should be told when 
 Dr. Johnson came next to the library. Accordingly, the 
 next time that Johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly 
 engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire, he 
 seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole round to the apart-
 
 146 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON U767 
 
 ment where the King was, and, in obedience to his Majesty's 
 commands, mentioned that Dr. Johnson was then in the 
 library. His Majesty said he was at leisure, and would go 
 to him; upon which Mr. Barnard took one of the candles 
 that stood on the King's table, and lighted his Majesty 
 through a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door 
 into the library, of which his Majesty had the key. Being 
 entered, Mr. Barnard stepped forward hastily to Dr. John- 
 son, who was still in a profound study, and whispered him, 
 'Sir, here is the King.' Johnson started up, and stood still. 
 His Majesty approached him, and at once was courteously 
 easy. 
 
 His Majesty began by observing, that he understood he 
 came sometimes to the library; and then mentioning his 
 having heard that the Doctor had been lately at Oxford, 
 asked him if he was not fond of going thither. To which 
 Johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to 
 Oxford sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. 
 The King then asked him what they were doing at Oxford. 
 Johnson answered, he could not much commend their dili- 
 gence, but that in some respects they were mended, for they 
 had put their press under better regulations, and were at 
 that tune printing Polybius. He was then asked whether 
 there were better libraries at Oxford or Cambridge. He 
 answered, he believed the Bodleian was larger than any they 
 had at Cambridge; at the same time adding, 'I hope, whether 
 we have more books or not than they have at Cambridge, 
 we shall make as good use of them as they do.' Being asked 
 whether All-Souls or Christ-Church library was the largest, 
 he answered, 'All-Souls library is the largest we have, ex- 
 cept the Bodleian.' 'Aye, (said the King,) that is the pub- 
 lick library.' 
 
 His Majesty enquired if he was then writing any thing. 
 He answered, he was not, for he had pretty well told the 
 world what he knew, and must now read to acquire more 
 knowledge. The King, as it should seem with a view to 
 urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and 
 to continue his labours, then said ' I do not think you borrow 
 much from any body.' Johnson said, he thought he had
 
 1767] CONVERSATION WITH THE KING 147 
 
 already done his part as a writer. ' I should have thought 
 so too, (said the King,) if you had not written so well.' 
 Johnson observed to me, upon this, that ' No man could have 
 paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a King to 
 pay. It was decisive.' When asked by another friend, at 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds's, whether he made any reply to this 
 high compliment, he answered, 'No, Sir. When the King 
 had said it, it was to be so. It was not for me to bandy 
 civilities with my Sovereign.' Perhaps no man who had spent 
 his whole life in courts could have shewn a more nice and 
 dignified sense of true politeness, than Johnson did in this 
 instance. 
 
 His Majesty having observed to him that he supposed he 
 must have read a great deal; Johnson answered, that he 
 thought more than he read ; that he had read a great deal in 
 the early part of his life, but having fallen into ill health, he 
 had not been able to read much, compared with others: for 
 instance, he said he had not read much, compared with Dr. 
 Warburton. Upon which the King said, that he heard Dr. 
 Warburton was a man of such general knowledge, that you 
 could scarce talk with him on any subject on which he was 
 not qualified to speak; and that his learning resembled 
 Garrick's acting, in its universality. His Majesty then 
 talked of the controversy between Warburton and Lowth, 
 which he seemed to have read, and asked Johnson what he 
 thought of it. Johnson answered, 'Warburton has most 
 general, most scholastick learning; Lowth is the more cor- 
 rect scholar. I do not know which of them calls names 
 best.' The King was pleased to say he was of the same 
 opinion; adding, 'You do not think, then, Dr. Johnson, that 
 there was much argument in the case.' Johnson said, he 
 did not think there was. 'Why truly, (said the King,) when 
 once it comes to calling names, argument is pretty well at 
 an end.' 
 
 His Majesty then asked him what he thought of Lord 
 Lyttelton's History, which was then just published. John- 
 son said, he thought his style pretty good, but that he had 
 blamed Henry the Second rather too much. 'Why, (said 
 the King,) they seldom do these things by halves.' ' No, Sir,
 
 148 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON U767 
 
 (answered Johnson,) not to Kings.' But fearing to be mis- 
 understood, he proceeded to explain himself; and immedi- 
 ately subjoined, 'That for those who spoke worse of Kings 
 than they deserved, he could find no excuse; but that he 
 could more easily conceive how some might speak better of 
 them than they deserved, without any ill intention; for, as 
 Kings had much in their power to give, those who were 
 favoured by them would frequently, from gratitude, exag- 
 gerate their praises; and as this proceeded from a good 
 motive, it was certainly excusable, as far as errour could be 
 excusable.' 
 
 The King then asked him what he thought of Dr. Hill. 
 Johnson answered, that he was an ingenious man, but had 
 no veracity; and immediately mentioned, as an instance of 
 it, an assertion of that writer, that he had seen objects 
 tnagnified to a much greater degree by using three or four 
 microscopes at a time, than by using one. 'Now, (added 
 Johnson,) every one acquainted with microscopes knows, that 
 the more of them he looks through, the less the object will 
 appear.' 'Why, (replied the King,) this is not only telling 
 an untruth, but telling it clumsily; for, if that be the case, 
 every one who can look through a microscope will be able 
 to detect him.' ,, W- ^~~H> 
 
 'I now, (said Johnson to his friends, when relating what 
 had passed) began to consider that I was depreciating this 
 man in the estimation of his Sovereign, and thought it was 
 time for me to say something that might be more favourable.' 
 He added, therefore, that Dr. Hill was, notwithstanding, 
 a very curious observer; and if he would have been con- 
 tented to tell the world no more than he knew, he might have 
 been a very considerable man, and needed not to have re- 
 course to such mean expedients to raise his reputation. 
 
 The King then talked of literary journals, mentioned par- 
 ticularly the Journal des Savans, and asked Johnson if it was 
 well done. Johnson said, it was formerly very well done, 
 :and gave some account of the persons who began it, and 
 carried it on for some years; enlarging, at the same time, on 
 the nature and use of such works. The King asked him if it 
 was well done now. Johnson answered, he had no reason to
 
 1767] BEARING TOWARD THE KING 149 
 
 think that it was. The King then asked him if there were 
 any other literary journals published in this kingdom, except 
 the Monthly and Critical Reviews ; and on being answered 
 there were no other, his Majesty asked which of them was 
 the best: Johnson answered, that the Monthly Review was 
 done with most care, the Critical upon the best principles; 
 adding that the authours of the Monthly Review were enemies 
 to the Church. This the King said he was sorry to hear. 
 
 The conversation next turned on the Philosophical Trans- 
 actions, when Johnson observed, that they had now a better 
 method of arranging their materials than formerly. 'Aye, 
 (said the King,) they are obliged to Dr. Johnson for that;' 
 for his Majesty had heard and remembered the circumstance, 
 which Johnson himself had forgot. 
 
 His Majesty expressed a desire to have the literary biog- 
 raphy of this country ably executed, and proposed to Dr. 
 Johnson to undertake it. Johnson signified his readiness to 
 comply with his Majesty's wishes. 
 
 During the whole of this interview, Johnson talked to his 
 Majesty with profound respect, but still in his firm manly 
 manner, with a sonorous voice, and never in that subdued 
 tone which is commonly used at the levee and in the drawing- 
 room. After the King withdrew, Johnson shewed himself 
 highly pleased with his Majesty's conversation, and gracious 
 behaviour. He said to Mr. Barnard, 'Sir, they may talk of 
 the King as they will; but he is the finest gentleman I have, 
 ever seen.' And he afterwards observed to Mr. Langton^, 
 ' Sir, his manners are those of as fine a gentleman as we may, 
 suppose Lewis the Fourteenth or Charles the Second. 1 
 
 At Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where a circle of Johnson's 
 friends was collected round him to hear his account of this 
 memorable conversation, Dr. Joseph Warton, in his frank 
 and lively manner, was very active in pressing him to men- 
 tion the particulars. 'Come now, Sir, this is an interesting 
 matter; do favour us with it.' Johnson, with great good? 
 humour, complied. 
 
 He told them, 'I found his Majesty wished I should talk, 
 and I made it my business to talk. I find it does a man 
 good to be talked to by his Sovereign. In the first place, a
 
 150 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1767 
 
 man cannot be in a passion .' Here some question inter- 
 rupted him, which is to be regretted, as he certainly would 
 have pointed out and illustrated many circumstances of ad- 
 vantage, from being in a situation, where the powers of the 
 mind are at once excited to vigorous exertion, and tempered 
 by reverential awe. 
 
 During all the time in which Dr. Johnson was employed 
 in relating to the circle at Sir Joshua Reynolds's the par- 
 ticulars of what passed between the King and him, Dr. 
 Goldsmith remained unmoved upon a sopha at some distance, 
 affecting not to join in the least in -the eager curiosity of the 
 company. He assigned as a reason for his gloom and seem- 
 ing inattention, that he apprehended Johnson had relin- 
 quished his purpose of furnishing him with a Prologue to 
 his play, with the hopes of which he had been flattered; but 
 it was strongly suspected that he was fretting with chagrin 
 and envy at the singular honour Dr. Johnson had lately 
 enjoyed. At length, the frankness and simplicity of his 
 natural character prevailed. He sprung from the sopha, 
 advanced to Johnson, and in a kind of flutter, from imagin- 
 ing himself in the situation which he had just been hearing 
 described, exclaimed, 'Well, you acquitted yourself in this 
 conversation better than I should have done; for I should 
 have bowed and stammered through the whole of it.' 
 
 His diary affords no light as to his employment at this 
 time. He passed three months at Lichfield; and I cannot 
 omit an affecting and solemn scene there, as related by 
 himself: 
 
 '.Sunday, Oct. 18, 1767. Yesterday, Oct. 17, at about ten 
 In the morning, I took my leave for ever of my dear old 
 friend, Catharine Chambers, who came to live with my 
 mother about 1724, and has been but little parted from us 
 ;since. She buried my father, my brother, and my mother. 
 She is now fifty-eight years old. 
 
 'I desired all to withdraw, then told her that we were to 
 part for ever; that as Christians, we should part with prayer; 
 and that I would, if she was willing, say a short prayer 
 beside her. She expressed great desire to hear me; and 
 held up her poor hands, as she lay in bed. with great fer-
 
 1768] PROLOGUE TO GOLDSMITH'S PLAY 151 
 
 vour, while I prayed, kneeling by her, nearly in the following 
 words: 
 
 'Almighty and most merciful Father, whose loving kind- 
 ness is over all thy works, behold, visit, and relieve this thy 
 servant, who is grieved with sickness. Grant that the sense 
 of her weakness may add strength to her faith, and serious- 
 ness to her repentance. And grant that by the help of thy 
 Holy Spirit, after the pains and labours of this short life, 
 we may all obtain everlasting happiness, through JESUS 
 CHRIST our Lord; for whose sake hear our prayers. Amen. 
 Our Father, &c. 
 
 'I then kissed her. She told me, that to part was the 
 greatest pain that she had ever felt, and that she hoped we 
 should meet again in a better place. I expressed, with 
 swelled eyes, and great emotion of tenderness, the same 
 hopes. We kissed, and parted. I humbly hope to meet 
 again, and to part no more.' 
 
 1768: JETAT. 59.] IT appears from his notes of the state 
 of his mind, that he suffered great perturbation and dis- 
 traction in 1768. Nothing of his writing was given to the 
 publick this year, except the Prologue to his friend Gold- 
 smith's comedy of The Good-natured Man. The first lines 
 of this Prologue are strongly characteristical of the dismal 
 gloom of his mind; which in his case, as in the case of all 
 who are distressed with the same malady of imagination, 
 transfers to others its own feelings. Who could suppose it 
 was to introduce a comedy, when Mr. Bensley solemnly 
 began, 
 
 'Preas'd with the load of life, the weary mind 
 Surveys the general toil of human kind.' 
 
 But this dark ground might make Goldsmith's humour shine 
 the more. 
 
 In the spring of this year, having published my Account of 
 Corsica, with the Journal of a Tour to that Island, I returned 
 to London, very desirous to see Dr. Johnson, and hear him 
 upon the subject. I found he was at Oxford, with his friend 
 Mr. Chambers, who was now Vinerian Professor, and lived in
 
 152 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1768 
 
 New Inn Hall. Having had no letter from him since that 
 in which he criticised the Latinity of my Thesis, and having 
 been told by somebody that he was offended at my having 
 put into my Book an extract of his letter to me at Paris, 
 I was impatient to be with him, and therefore followed him 
 to Oxford, where I was entertained by Mr. Chambers, with 
 a civility which I shall ever gratefully remember. I found 
 that Dr. Johnson had sent a letter to me to Scotland, and 
 that I had nothing to complain of but his being more in- 
 different to my anxiety than I wished him to be. Instead 
 of giving, with the circumstances of time and place, such 
 fragments of his conversation as I preserved during this 
 visit to Oxford, I shall throw them together in continuation. 
 
 Talking of some of the modern plays, he said False Deli- 
 cacy was totally void of character. He praised Goldsmith's 
 Good-natured Man; said, it was the best comedy that had 
 appeared since The Provoked Husband, and that there had 
 not been of late any such character exhibited on the stage 
 as that of Croaker. I observed it was the Suspirius of his 
 Rambler. He said, Goldsmith had owned he had borrowed 
 it from thence. 'Sir, (continued he,) there is all the differ- 
 ence in the world between characters of nature and charac- 
 ters of manners; and there is the difference between the 
 characters of Fielding and those of Richardson. Characters 
 of manners are very entertaining; but they are to be under- 
 stood by a more superficial observer than characters of 
 nature, where a man must dive into the recesses of the 
 human heart.' 
 
 It always appeared to me that he estimated the compo- 
 sitions of Richardson too highly, and that he had an un- 
 reasonable prejudice against Fielding. In comparing those 
 two writers, he used this expression: 'that there was as 
 great a difference between them as between a man who knew 
 how a watch was made, and a man who could tell the hour 
 by looking on the dial-plate.' 
 
 'I have not been troubled for a long time with authours 
 desiring my opinion of their works. I used once to be sadly 
 plagued with a man who wrote verses, but who literally had 
 no other notion of a verse, but that it consisted of ten sylla-
 
 1768] OPINIONS ON SCOTLAND 153 
 
 bles. Lay your knife and your fork, across your plate, was to 
 him a verse: 
 
 Lay your knife and your fork, across your plate. 
 
 As he wrote a great number of verses, he sometimes by 
 chance made good ones, though he did not know it.' 
 
 Johnson expatiated on the advantages of Oxford for 
 learning. 'There is here, Sir, (said he,) such a progressive 
 emulation. The students are anxious to appear well to their 
 tutors; the tutors are anxious to have their pupils appear 
 well in the college; the colleges are anxious to have their 
 students appear well in the University; and there are excel- 
 lent rules of discipline in every college. That the rules are 
 sometimes ill observed, may be true; but is nothing against 
 the system. The members of an University may, for a season, 
 be unmindful of their duty. I am arguing for the excellency 
 of the institution.' 
 
 He said he had lately been a long while at Lichfield, but 
 had grown very weary before he left it. BOSWELL. ' I won- 
 der at that, Sir; it is your native place.' JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 so is Scotland your native place.' 
 
 His prejudice against Scotland appeared remarkably strong 
 at this time. When I talked of our advancement in litera- 
 ture, ' Sir, (said he,) you have learnt a little from us, and you 
 think yourselves very great men. Hume would never have 
 written History, had not Voltaire written it before him. 
 He is an echo of Voltaire.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, we have 
 Lord Kames.' JOHNSON. 'You have Lord Kames. Keep 
 him; ha, ha, ha! We don't envy you him. Do you ever 
 see Dr. Robertson?' BOSWELL. 'Yes, Sir.' JOHNSON. 
 'Does the dog talk of me?' BOSWELL. 'Indeed, Sir, he 
 does, and loves you.' Thinking that I now had him in a 
 corner, and being solicitous for the literary fame of my 
 country, I pressed him for his opinion on the merit of Dr. 
 Robertson's History of Scotland. But, to my surprize, he 
 escaped. 'Sir, I love Robertson, and I won't talk of his 
 book.' 
 
 An essay, written by Mr. Deane, a divine of the Church of 
 England, maintaining the future life of brutes, by an ex-
 
 154 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1768 
 
 plication of certain parts of the scriptures, was mentioned, 
 and the doctrine insisted on by a gentleman who seemed 
 fond of curious speculation. Johnson, who did not like to 
 hear of any thing concerning a future state which was not 
 authorised by the regular canons of orthodoxy, discouraged 
 this talk; and being offended at its continuation, he watched 
 an opportunity to give the gentleman a blow of reprehension. 
 So, when the poor speculatist, with a serious metaphysical 
 pensive face, addressed him, 'But really, Sir, when we see 
 a very sensible dog, we don't know what to think of him;' 
 Johnson, rolling with joy at the thought which beamed in 
 his eye, turned quickly round, and replied, 'True, Sir: and 
 when we see a very foolish fellow, we don't know what to 
 think of him.' He then rose up, strided to the fire, and stood 
 for some time laughing and exulting. 
 
 I asked him if it was not hard that one deviation from 
 chastity should so absolutely ruin a young woman. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Why, no, Sir; it is the great principle which she is 
 taught. When she has given up that principle, she has 
 given up every notion of female honour and virtue, which 
 are all included in chastity.' 
 
 A gentleman talked to him of a lady whom he greatly 
 admired and wished to marry, but was afraid of her superi- 
 ority of talents. 'Sir, (said he,) you need not be afraid; 
 marry her. Before a year goes about, you'll find that reason 
 much weaker, and that wit not so bright.' Yet the gentle- 
 man may be justified in his apprehension by one of Dr. 
 Johnson's admirable sentences in his life of Waller: 'He 
 doubtless praised many whom he would have been afraid to 
 marry; and, perhaps, married one whom he would have been 
 ashamed to praise. Many qualities contribute to domestic 
 happiness, upon which poetry has no colours to bestow; 
 and many airs and sallies may delight imagination, which he 
 who flatters them never can approve.' 
 
 He praised Signor Baretti. 'His account of Italy is a 
 very entertaining book; and, Sir, I know no man who 
 carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There 
 are strong powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many 
 hooks; but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly.'"
 
 1768] JOHNSON'S WATCH 155 
 
 At this time I observed upon the dial-plate of his watch 
 a short Greek inscription, taken from the New Testament, 
 Nu -rap epxetott, being the first words of our SAVIOUR'S 
 solemn admonition to the improvement of that time which is 
 allowed us to prepare for eternity: 'the night cometh, when 
 no man can work.' He sometime afterwards laid aside this 
 dial-plate; and when I asked him the reason, he said, 'It 
 might do very well upon a clock which a man keeps in his 
 closet; but to have it upon his watch which he carries about 
 with him, and which is often looked at by others, might be 
 censured as ostentatious.' Mr. Steevens is now possessed 
 of the dial-plate inscribed as above. 
 
 He remained at Oxford a considerable time; I was obliged 
 to go to London, where I received his letter, which had been 
 returned from Scotland. 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 *Mv DEAR BOSWELL, I have omitted a long time to 
 write to you, without knowing very well why. I could now 
 tell why I should not write; for who would write to men- 
 who publish the letters of their friends, without their leave? 
 Yet I write to you in spite of my caution, to tell you that I 
 shall be glad to see you, and that I wish you would empty 
 your head of Corsica, which I think has filled it rather too 
 long. But, at all events, I shall be glad, very glad to see you. 
 I am, Sir, yours affectionately, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'Oxford, March 23, 1768.' 
 
 Upon his arrival in London in May, he surprized me one 
 morning with a visit at my lodgings in Half-Moon-street, 
 was quite satisfied with my explanation, and was in the 
 kindest and most agreeable frame of mind. As he had ob- 
 jected to a part of one of his letters being published, I thought 
 it right to take this opportunity of asking him explicitly 
 whether it would be improper to publish his letters after his 
 death. His answer was, 'Nay, Sir, when I am dead, you 
 may do as you will.' 
 
 He talked in his usual style with a rough contempt of 
 popular liberty. ' They make a rout about universal liberty,
 
 156 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1768 
 
 without considering that all that is to be valued, or indeed 
 can be enjoyed by individuals, is private liberty. Political 
 liberty is good only so far as it produces private liberty. 
 Now, Sir, there is the liberty of the press, which you know 
 is a constant topick. Suppose you and I and two hundred 
 more were restrained from printing our thoughts: what 
 then? What proportion would that restraint upon us bear 
 to the private happiness of the nation?' 
 
 This mode of representing the inconveniences of restraint 
 as light and insignificant, was a kind of sophistry in which he 
 delighted to indulge himself, in opposition to the extreme 
 laxity for which it has been fashionable for too many to 
 argue, when it is evident, upon reflection, that the very 
 essence of government is restraint; and certain it is, that as 
 government produces rational happiness, too much restraint 
 is better than too little. But when restraint is unnecessary, 
 and so close as to gall those who are subject to it, the people 
 may and ought to remonstrate; and, if relief is not granted, 
 to resist. Of this manly and spirited principle, no man was 
 more convinced than Johnson himself. 
 
 His sincere regard for Francis Barber, his faithful negro 
 servant, made him so desirous of his further improvement, 
 that he now placed him at a school at Bishop Stortford, 
 in Hertfordshire. This humane attention does Johnson's 
 heart much honour. Out of many letters which Mr. Barber 
 received from his master, he has preserved three, which he 
 kindly gave me, and which I shall insert according to their 
 dates. 
 
 'To MR. FRANCIS BARBER, 
 
 'DEAR FRANCIS, I have been very much out of order. 
 I am glad to hear that you are well, and design to come 
 soon to see you. I would have you stay at Mrs. Clapp's for 
 the present, till I can determine what we shall do. Be a 
 good boy. 
 
 'My compliments to Mrs. Clapp and to Mr. Fowle.r. I 
 am, your's affectionately, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'May 28, 1768.'
 
 1768] AWES SCOTCH LITERATI 157 
 
 Soon afterwards, he supped at the Crown and Anchor 
 tavern, in the Strand, with a company whom I collected to 
 meet him. They were Dr. Percy, now Bishop of Dromore, 
 Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, Mr. Langton, Dr. 
 Robertson the Historian, Dr. Hugh Blair, and Mr. Thomas 
 Davies, who wished much to be introduced to these eminent 
 Scotch literati ; but on the present occasion he had very little 
 opportunity of hearing them talk, for with an excess of pru- 
 dence, for which Johnson afterwards found fault with them, 
 they hardly opened their lips, and that only to say sometlu'ng 
 which they were certain would not expose them to the sword 
 of Goliath; such was their anxiety for their fame when in 
 the presence of Johnson. He was this evening in remark- 
 able vigour of mind, and eager to exert himself in conversa- 
 tion, which he did with great readiness and fluency; but 
 I am sorry to find that I have preserved but a small part of 
 what passed. 
 
 He was vehement against old Dr. Mounsey, of Chelsea 
 College, as 'a fellow who swore and talked bawdy.' 'I have 
 been often in his company, (said Dr. Percy,) and never heard 
 him swear or talk bawdy.' Mr. Davies, who sat next to Dr. 
 Percy, having after this had some conversation aside with 
 him, made a discovery which, in his zeal to pay court to 
 Dr. Johnson, he eagerly proclaimed aloud from the foot of 
 the table: '0, Sir, I have found out a very good reason why 
 Dr. Percy never heard Mounsey swear or talk bawdy; for 
 he tells me, he never saw him but at the Duke of Northum- 
 berland's table.' 'And so, Sir, (said Johnson loudly, to Dr. 
 Percy,) you would shield this man from the charge of swear- 
 ing and talking bawdy, because he did not do so at the 
 Duke of Northumberland's table. Sir, you might as well 
 tell us that you had seen him hold up his hand at the Old 
 Bailey, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy; or that you 
 had seen him in the cart at Tyburn, and he neither swore 
 nor talked bawdy. And is it thus, Sir, that you presume to 
 controvert what I have related?' Dr. Johnson's animad- 
 version was uttered in such a manner, that Dr. Percy seemed 
 to be displeased, and soon afterwards left the company, of 
 which Johnson did not at that time take any notice.
 
 158 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1768 
 
 Swift having -been mentioned, Johnson, as usual, treated 
 him with little respect as an authour. Some of us endeav- 
 oured to support the Dean of St. Patrick's by various argu- 
 ments. One in particular praised his Conduct of the Allies. 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, his Conduct of the Allies is a performance of 
 very little ability.' 'Surely, Sir, (said Dr. Douglas,) you 
 must allow it has strong facts.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; 
 but what is that to the merit of the composition? In the 
 Sessions-paper of the Old Bailey there are strong facts. 
 Housebreaking is a strong fact; robbery is a strong fact; 
 and murder is a mighty strong fact; but is great praise due 
 to the historian of those strong facts? No, Sir. Swift has 
 told what he had to tell distinctly enough, but that is all. 
 He had to count ten, and he has counted it right.' Then 
 recollecting that Mr. Davies, by acting as an informer, had 
 been the occasion of his talking somewhat too harshly to his 
 friend Dr. Percy, for which, probably, when the first ebulli- 
 tion was over, he felt some compunction, he took an oppor- 
 tunity to give him a hit; so added, with a preparatory laugh, 
 'Why, Sir, Tom Davies might have written The Conduct of 
 the Allies. ,' Poor Tom being thus suddenly dragged into 
 ludicrous notice in presence of the Scottish Doctors, to 
 whom he was ambitious of appearing to advantage, was 
 grievously mortified. Nor did his punishment rest here; for 
 upon subsequent occasions, whenever he, 'statesman all 
 over/ assumed a strutting importance, I used to hail him 
 'the Authour of The Conduct of the Allies.' 
 
 When I called upon Dr. Johnson next morning, I found 
 him highly satisfied with his colloquial prowess the preceding 
 evening. 'Well, (said he,) we had good talk.' BOSWELL. 
 'Yes, Sir; you tossed and gored several persons.' 
 
 The late Alexander, Earl of Eglintoune, who loved wit 
 more than wine, and men of genius more than sycophants, 
 had a great admiration of Johnson; but from the remarkable 
 elegance of his own manners, was, perhaps, too delicately 
 sensible of the roughness which sometimes appeared in John- 
 son's behaviour. One evening about this time, when his 
 Lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with Dr. 
 Robertson and several other men of literary distinction, he
 
 regretted that Johnson had not been educated with more 
 refinement, and lived more in polished society. 'No, no, 
 my Lord, (said Signer Baretti,) do with him what you 
 would, he would always have been a bear.' ' True, (answered 
 the Earl, with a smile,) but he would have been a dancing 
 bear.' 
 
 To obviate all the reflections which have gone round the 
 world to Johnson's prejudice, by applying to him the epithet 
 of a bear, let me impress upon my readers a just and happy 
 saying of my friend Goldsmith, who knew him well: 'John- 
 son, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man 
 alive has a more tender heart. He has nothing of the bear 
 but his skin.' 
 
 1769: JETAT. 60.] I CAME to London in the autumn, and 
 having informed him that I was going to be married in a few 
 months, I wished to have as much of his conversation as I 
 could before engaging in a state of life which would proba- 
 bly keep me more in Scotland, and prevent me seeing him 
 so often as when I was a single man; but I found he was 
 at Brighthelmstone with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. 
 
 After his return to town, we met frequently, and I con- 
 tinued the practice of making notes of his conversation, 
 though not with so much assiduity as I wish I had done. 
 At this time, indeed, I had a sufficient excuse for not being 
 able to appropriate so much time to my Journal; for Gen- 
 eral Paoli, after Corsica had been overpowered by the mon- 
 archy of France, was now no longer at the head of his brave 
 countrymen, but having with difficulty escaped from his 
 native island, had sought an asylum in Great-Britain; and 
 it was my duty, as well as my pleasure, to attend much upon 
 him. Such particulars of Johnson's conversation at this 
 period as I have committed to writing, I shall here introduce, 
 without any strict attention to methodical arrangement. 
 Sometimes short notes of different days shall be blended to- 
 gether, and sometimes a day may seem important enough 
 to be separately distinguished. 
 
 He said, he would not have Sunday kept with rigid severity 
 and gloom, but with a gravity and simplicity of behaviour. 
 
 I told him that David Hume had made a short collection.
 
 160 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1769 
 
 of Scotticisms. 'I wonder, (said Johnson,) that he should 
 find them.' 
 
 On the 30th of September we dined together at the Mitre. 
 I attempted to argue for the superior happiness of the sav- 
 age life, upon the usual fanciful topicks. JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 there can be nothing more false. The savages have no 
 bodily advantages beyond those of civilised men. They 
 have not better health; and as to care or mental uneasiness, 
 they are not above 'it, but below it, like bears. No, Sir; 
 you are not to talk such paradox: let me have no more 
 on't. It cannot entertain, far less can it instruct. Lord 
 Monboddo, one of your Scotch Judges, talked a great deal 
 of such nonsense. I suffered him ; but I will not suffer 
 you.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, does not Rousseau talk such 
 nonsense?' JOHNSON. 'True, Sir, but Rousseau knows he 
 is talking nonsense, and laughs at the world for staring at 
 him.' BOSWELL. 'How so, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, 
 a man who talks nonsense so well, must know that he is 
 talking nonsense. But I am afraid, (chuckling and laugh- 
 ing,) Monboddo does not know that he is talking nonsense.' 
 BOSWELL. 'Is it wrong then, Sir, to affect singularity, in 
 order to make people stare?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, if you do 
 it by propagating errour: and, indeed, it is wrong in any 
 way. There is in human nature a general inclination to 
 make people stare; and every wise man has himself to cure 
 of it, and does cure himself. If you wish to make people 
 stare by doing better than others, why, make them stare 
 till they stare their eyes out. But consider how easy it is 
 to make people stare by being absurd. I may do it by going 
 into a drawing-room without my shoes. You remember the 
 gentleman in The Spectator, who had a commission of lunacy 
 taken out against him for his extreme singularity, such as 
 never wearing a wig, but a night-cap. Now, Sir, abstractedly, 
 the night-cap was best; but, relatively, the advantage was 
 overbalanced by his making the boys run after him.' 
 
 Talking of a London life, he said, 'The happiness of Lon- 
 don is not to be conceived but by those who have been in 
 it. I will venture to say, there is more learning and science 
 within the circumference of ten miles from where we now
 
 1769] . ON SECOND MARRIAGES 161 
 
 sit, than in all the rest of the kingdom.' BOBWELL. ' The 
 only disadvantage is the great distance at which people live 
 from one another.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; but that is occa- 
 sioned by the largeness of it, which is the cause of all the 
 other advantages.' BOSWELL. 'Sometimes I have been in 
 the humour of wishing to retire to a desart.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, you have desart enough in Scotland.' 
 
 Although I had promised myself a great deal of instruc- 
 tive conversation with him on the conduct of the married 
 state, of which I had then a near prospect, he did not say 
 much upon that topick. Mr. Seward heard him once say, 
 that 'a man has a very bad chance for happiness in that 
 state, unless he marries a woman of very strong and fixed 
 principles of religion.' He maintained to me, contrary to 
 the common notion, that a woman would not be the worse 
 wife for being learned; in which, from all that I have ob- 
 served of Artemisias, I humbly differed from him. 
 
 When I censured a gentleman of my acquaintance for 
 marrying a second time, as it shewed a disregard of his first 
 wife, he said, 'Not at all, Sir. On the contrary, were he 
 not to marry again, it might be concluded that his first wife 
 had given him a disgust to marriage; but by taking a second 
 wife he pays the highest compliment to the first, by shew- 
 ing that she made him so happy as a married man, that he 
 wishes to be so a second time.' So ingenious a turn did he 
 give to this delicate question. And yet, on another occa- 
 sion, he owned that he once had almost asked a promise of 
 Mrs. Johnson that she would not marry again, but had 
 checked himself. Indeed, I cannot help thinking, that in 
 his case the request would have been unreasonable; for if 
 Mrs. Johnson forgot, or thought it no injury to the memory 
 of her first love, the husband of her youth and the father 
 of her children, to make a second marriage, why should she 
 be precluded from a third, should she be so inclined? In 
 Johnson's persevering fond appropriation of his Tetty, even 
 after her decease, he seems totally to have overlooked the 
 prior claim of the honest Birmingham trader. I presume 
 that her having been married before had, at times, given him 
 some uneasiness; for I remember his observing upon the
 
 162 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON . 
 
 marriage of one of our common friends, ' He has done a very 
 foolish thing, Sir; he has married a widow, when he might 
 have had a maid.' 
 
 We drank tea with Mrs. Williams. I had last year the 
 pleasure of seeing Mrs. Thrale at Dr. Johnson's one morn- 
 ing, and had conversation enough with her to admire her 
 talents, and to shew her that I was as Johnsonian as herself. 
 Dr. Johnson had probably been kind enough to speak well 
 of me, for this evening he delivered me a very polite card 
 from Mr. Thrale and her, inviting me to Streatham. 
 
 On the 6th of October I complied with this obliging in- 
 vitation, and found, at an elegant villa, six miles from town, 
 every circumstance that can make society pleasing. John- 
 son, though quite at home, was yet looked up to with an 
 awe, tempered by affection, and seemed to be equally the 
 <;are of his host and hostess. I rejoiced at seeing him so 
 happy. 
 
 He played off his wit against Scotland with a good hu- 
 moured pleasantry, which gave me, though no bigot to 
 national prejudices, an opportunity for a little contest with 
 him. I having said that England was obliged to us for gar- 
 deners, almost all their good gardeners being Scotchmen. 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that is because gardening is much 
 more necessary amongst you than with us, which makes so 
 many of your people learn it. It is all gardening with you. 
 Things which grow wild here, must be cultivated with great 
 care in Scotland. Pray now (throwing himself back in his 
 chair, and laughing,) are you ever able to bring the sloe to 
 perfection ? ' 
 
 I boasted that we had the honour of being the first to 
 abolish the unhospitable, troublesome, and ungracious cus- 
 tom of giving vails to servants. JOHNSON. 'Sir, you abol- 
 ished vails, because you were too poor to be able to give them.' 
 
 Mrs. Thrale disputed with him on the merit of Prior. 
 He attacked him powerfully; said he wrote of love like a 
 man who had never felt it: his love verses were college 
 verses; and he repeated the song 'Alexis shunn'd his fellow 
 swains,' &c., in so ludicrous a manner, as to make us all 
 wonder how any one could have been pleased with such
 
 1769] JOHNSON MEETS PAOLI 163 
 
 fantastical stuff. Mrs. Thrale stood to her gun with great 
 courage, in defence of amorous ditties, which Johnson de- 
 spised, till he at last silenced her by saying, ' My dear Lady, 
 talk no more of this. Nonsense can be defended but by 
 nonsense.' 
 
 Mrs. Thrale then praised Garrick's talent for light gay 
 poetry; and, as a specimen, repeated his song in Florizel 
 find Perdita, and dwelt with peculiar pleasure on this line: 
 
 ' I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.' 
 
 JOHNSON. 'Nay, my dear Lady, this will never do. Poor 
 David! Smile with the simple; What folly is that? And 
 who would feed with the poor that can help it? No, no; 
 let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.' I re- 
 peated this sally to Garrick, and wondered to find his sen- 
 sibility as a writer not a little irritated by it. To sooth 
 him, I observed, that Johnson spared none of us; and I 
 quoted the passage in Horace, in which he compares one 
 who attacks his friends for the sake of a laugh, to a push- 
 ing ox, that is marked by a bunch of hay put upon his horns: 
 'fomum kabet in cornu.' 'Ay, (said Garrick vehemently,) 
 he has a whole mow of it.' 
 
 He would not allow much merit to Whitefield's oratory. 
 'His popularity, Sir, (said he,) is chiefly owing to the peculi- 
 arity of his manner. He would be followed by crowds were 
 he to wear a night-cap in the pulpit, or were he to preach 
 from a tree.' 
 
 On the evening of October 10, I presented Dr. Johnson 
 to General Paoli. I had greatly wished that two men, for 
 -whom I had the highest esteem, should meet. They met 
 with a manly ease, mutually conscious of their own abilities, 
 and of the abilities of each other. The General spoke Italian, 
 And Dr. Johnson English, and understood one another very 
 well, with a little aid of interpretation from me, in which 
 I compared myself to an isthmus which joins two great 
 continents. Upon Johnson's approach, the General said, 
 "From what I have read of your works, Sir, and from what 
 Mr. Boswell has told me of you, I have long held you in 
 .great veneration.' The General talked of languages being
 
 164 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 formed on the particular notions and manners of a people, 
 without knowing which, we cannot know the language. We 
 may know the direct signification of single words; but by 
 these no beauty of expression, no sally of genius, no wit is 
 conveyed to the mind. All this must be by allusion to 
 other ideas. 'Sir, (said Johnson,) you talk of language, as 
 if you had never done any thing else but study it, instead 
 of governing a nation.' The General said, 'Questo e un 
 troppo gran complimento;' this is too great a compliment. 
 Johnson answered, 'I should have thought so, Sir, if I had 
 not heard you talk.' The General asked him, what he 
 thought of the spirit of infidelity which was so prevalent. 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, this gloom of infidelity, I hope, is only a 
 transient cloud passing through the hemisphere, which will 
 soon be dissipated, and the sun break forth with his usual 
 splendour.' 'You think then, (said the General,) that they 
 will change their principles like their clothes.' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, if they bestow no more thought on principles 
 than on dress, it must be so.' The General said, that 'a 
 great part of the fashionable infidelity was owing to a desire 
 of shewing courage. Men who have no opportunities of 
 shewing it as to things in this life, take death and futurity 
 as objects on which to display it.' JOHNSON. 'That is 
 mighty foolish affectation. Fear is one of the passions of 
 human nature, of which it is impossible to divest it. You 
 remember that the Emperour Charles V, when he read upon 
 the tomb-stone of a Spanish nobleman, "Here lies one who 
 never knew fear," wittily said, "Then he never snuffed a 
 candle with his fingers." ' 
 
 Dr. Johnson went home with me, and drank tea till late 
 in the night. He said, 'General Paoli had the loftiest port 
 of any man he had ever seen.' He denied that military 
 men were always the best bred men. 'Perfect good breed- 
 ing,' he observed, 'consists in having no particular mark of 
 any profession, but a general elegance of manners; whereas, 
 in a military man, you can commonly distinguish the brand 
 of a soldier, I'homme d'epee.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson shunned to-night any discussion of the per- 
 plexed question of fate and free will, which I attempted to
 
 1769] GOLDSMITH'S COAT 165 
 
 agitate. ' Sir, (said he,) we know our will is free, and there's 
 an end on't.' 
 
 He honoured me with his company at dinner on the 16th 
 of October, at my lodgings in Old Bond-street, with Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Murphy, 
 Mr. Bickerstaff, and Mr. Thomas Davies. Garrick played 
 round him with a fond vivacity, taking hold of the breasts 
 of his coat, and, looking up in his face with a lively arch- 
 ness, complimented him on the good health which he seemed 
 then to enjoy; while the sage, shaking his head, beheld him 
 with a gentle complacency. One of the company not being 
 come at the appointed hour, I proposed, as usual upon such 
 occasions, to order dinner to be served; adding, 'Ought six 
 people to be kept waiting for one?' 'Why, yes, (answered 
 Johnson, with a delicate humanity,) if the one will suffer 
 more by your sitting down, than the six will do by waiting.' 
 Goldsmith, to divert the tedious minutes, strutted about, 
 bragging of his dress, and I believe was seriously vain of it, 
 for his mind was wonderfully prone to such impressions. 
 'Come, come, (said Garrick,) talk no more of that. You 
 are, perhaps, the worst eh, eh ! ' Goldsmith was eagerly 
 attempting to interrupt him, when Garrick went on, laughing 
 ironically, 'Nay, you will always look like a gentleman; 
 but I am talking of being well or ill drest.' 'Well, let me tell 
 you, (said Goldsmith,) when my tailor brought home my 
 bloom-coloured coat, he said, "Sir, I have a favour to beg 
 of you. When any body asks you who made your clothes, 
 be pleased to mention John Filby, at the Harrow, in Water- 
 lane."' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that was because he knew 
 fhe strange colour would attract crowds to gaze at it, and 
 thus they might hear of him, and see how well he could 
 make a coat even of so absurd a colour.' 
 
 After dinner our conversation first turned upon Pope. 
 Johnson said, his characters of men were admirably drawn, 
 those of women not so well. He repeated to us, in his forci- 
 ble melodious manner, the concluding lines of the Dunciad. 
 While he was talking loudly in praise of those lines, one of 
 the company 1 ventured to say, 'Too fine for such a poem: 
 
 1 Everyone guesses that 'one of the company" was Boswell. HILL.
 
 166 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1769 
 
 a poem on what?' JOHNSON, (with a disdainful look,) 
 'Why, on dunces. It was worth while being a dunce then. 
 Ah, Sir, hadst thou lived in those days ! It is not worth 
 while being a dunce now, when there are no wits.' Bicker- 
 staff observed, as a peculiar circumstance, that Pope's fame 
 was higher when he was alive than it was, then. Johnson 
 said, his Pastorals were poor things, though the versification 
 was fine. He told us, with high satisfaction, the anecdote 
 of Pope's inquiring who was the authour of his London, and 
 saying, he will be soon deterre. He observed, that in Dry- 
 den's poetry there were passages drawn from a profundity 
 which Pope could never reach. He repeated some fine lines 
 on love, by the former, (which I have now forgotten,) and 
 gave great applause to the character of Zimri. Goldsmith 
 said, that Pope's character of Addison shewed a deep knowl- 
 edge of the human heart. Johnson said, that the description 
 of the temple, in The Mourning Bride, was the finest poetical 
 passage he had ever read; he recollected none in Shakspeare 
 equal to it. 'But, (said Garrick, all alarmed for the 'God 
 of his idolatry,') we know not the extent and variety of his 
 powers. We are to suppose there are such passages in his 
 works. Shakspeare must not suffer from the badness of 
 our memories.' Johnson, diverted by this enthusiastick 
 jealousy, went on with greater ardour: 'No, Sir; Congreve 
 has nature;' (smiling on the tragick eagerness of Garrick;) 
 but composing himself, he added, ' Sir, this is not comparing 
 Congreve on the whole, with Shakspeare on the whole; but 
 only maintaining that Congreve has one finer passage than 
 any that can be found in Shakspeare. Sir, a man may have 
 no more than ten guineas in the world, but he may have 
 those ten guineas in one piece; and so may have a finer piece 
 than a man who has ten thousand pounds: but then he has 
 only one ten-guinea piece. What I mean is, that you can 
 shew me no passage where there is simply a description of 
 material objects, without any intermixture of moral notions, 
 which produces such an effect.' Mr. Murphy mentioned 
 Shakspeare's description of the night before the battle of 
 Agincourt; but it was observed, it had men in it. Mr. 
 Davies suggested the speech of Juliet, hi which she figures.
 
 1769] ON SHERIDAN 167 
 
 herself awaking in the tomb of her ancestors. Some one 
 mentioned the description of Dover Cliff. JOHNSON. 'No, 
 Sir; it should be all precipice, all vacuum. The crows 
 impede your fall. The diminished appearance of the boats, 
 and other circumstances, are all very good descriptions; but 
 do not impress the mind at once with the horrible idea of 
 immense height. The impression is divided; you pass on 
 by computation, from one stage of the tremendous space to 
 another. Had the girl in The Mourning Bride said, she 
 could not cast her shoe to the top of one of the pillars 
 in the temple, it would not have aided the idea, but weak- 
 ened it.' 
 
 Talking of a Barrister who had a bad utterance, some one, 
 (to rouse Johnson,) wickedly said, that he was unfortunate 
 in not having been taught oratory by Sheridan. JOHNSON. 
 ' Nay, Sir, if he had been taught by Sheridan, he would have 
 cleared the room.' GARRICK. 'Sheridan has too much 
 vanity to be a good man.' We shall now see Johnson's 
 mode of defending a man; taking him into his own hands, 
 and discriminating. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. There is, to be 
 sure, in Sheridan, something to reprehend, and every thing 
 to laugh at; but, Sir, he is not a bad man. No, Sir; were 
 mankind to be divided into good and bad, he would stand 
 considerably within the ranks of good. And, Sir, it must be 
 allowed that Sheridan excels in plain declamation, though 
 he can exhibit no character.' 
 
 Mrs. Montagu, a lady distinguished for having written an 
 Essay on Shakspeare, being mentioned; REYNOLDS. 'I 
 think that essay does her honour.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; 
 it does her honour, but it would do nobody else honour. I 
 have, indeed, not read it all. But when I take up the end of 
 a web, and find it packthread, I do not expect, by looking 
 further, to find embroidery. Sir, I will venture to say, there 
 is not one sentence of true criticism in her book.' GARRICK. 
 'But, Sir, surely it shews how much Voltaire has mistaken 
 Shakspeare, which nobody else has done.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 nobody else has thought it worth while. And what merit is 
 there in that? You may as well praise a schoolmaster for 
 whipping a boy who has construed ill. No, Sir, there is no
 
 168 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1769 
 
 real criticism in it: none shewing the beauty of thought, as 
 formed on the workings of the human heart.' 
 
 The admirers of this Essay may be offended at the slight- 
 ing manner in which Johnson spoke of it; but let it be re- 
 membered, that he gave his honest opinion unbiassed by 
 any prejudice, or any proud jealousy of a woman intruding 
 herself into the chair of criticism; for Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 has told me, that when the Essay first came out, and it was 
 not known who had written it, Johnson wondered how Sir 
 Joshua could like it. At this time Sir Joshua himself had 
 received no information concerning the authour, except 
 being assured by one of our most eminent literati, that it 
 was clear its authour did not know the Greek tragedies in 
 the original. One day at Sir Joshua's table, when it was 
 related that Mrs. Montagu, in an excess of compliment to 
 the authour of a modern tragedy, had exclaimed, 'I trem- 
 ble for Shakspeare;' Johnson said, 'When Shakspeare has 
 
 got for his rival, and Mrs. Montagu for his defender, 
 
 he is in a poor state indeed.' 
 
 On Thursday, October 19, I passed the evening with him 
 at his house. He advised me to complete a Dictionary of 
 words peculiar to Scotland, of which I shewed him a speci- 
 men. 'Sir, (said he,) Ray has made a collection of north- 
 country words. By collecting those of your country, you 
 will do a useful thing towards the history of the language. 
 He bade me also go on with collections which I was making 
 upon the antiquities of Scotland. 'Make a large book; a 
 folio.' BOSWELL. 'But of what use will it be, Sir?' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Never mind the use; do it.' 
 
 I complained that he had not mentioned Garrick in his 
 Preface to Shakspeare; and asked him if he did not admire 
 him. JOHNSON. 'Yes, as "a poor player, who frets and 
 struts his hour upon the stage;" as a shadow.' BOSWELL. 
 'But has he not brought Shakspeare into notice?' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, to allow that, would be to lampoon the age. 
 Many of Shakspeare's plays are the worse for being acted: 
 Macbeth, for instance.' BOSWELL. 'What, Sir, is nothing 
 gained by decoration and action? Indeed, I do wish that 
 you had mentioned Garrick.' JOHNSON. 'My dear Sir,
 
 1769) FEAR OF DEATH 169 
 
 had I mentioned him, I must have mentioned many more: 
 Mrs. Pritchard, Mrs. Gibber, nay, and Mr. Gibber too; 
 he too altered Shakspeare.' BOSWELL. 'You have read his 
 apology, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, it is very entertaining. 
 But as for Gibber himself, taking from his conversation all 
 that he ought not to have said, he was a poor creature. I 
 remember when he brought me one of his Odes to have my 
 opinion of it; I could not bear such nonsense, and would not 
 let him read it to the end; so little respect had I for that 
 great man! (laughing.) Yet I remember Richardson won- 
 dering that I could treat him with familiarity.' 
 
 I mentioned to him that I had seen the execution of several 
 convicts at Tyburn, two days before, and that none of them 
 seemed to be under any concern. JOHNSON. ' Most of them, 
 Sir, have never thought at all.' BOSWELL. 'But is not the 
 fear of death natural to man?' JOHNSON. 'So much so, 
 Sir, that the whole of life is but keeping away the thoughts 
 of it.' He then, in a low and earnest tone, talked of his 
 meditating upon the aweful hour of his own dissolution, and 
 in what manner he should conduct himself upon that occa- 
 sion : ' I know not (said he,) whether I should wish to have a 
 friend by me, or have it all between GOD and myself.' 
 
 Talking of our feeling for the distresses of others; JOHN- 
 SON. 'Why, Sir, there is much noise made about it, but it 
 is greatly exaggerated. No, Sir, we have a certain degree of 
 feeling to prompt us to do good : more than that, Providence 
 does not intend. It would be misery to no purpose.' BOB- 
 WELL. 'But suppose now, Sir, that one of your intimate 
 friends were apprehended for an offence for which he might 
 be hanged.' JOHNSON. 'I should do what I could to bail 
 him, and give him any other assistance; but if he were once 
 fairly hanged, I should not suffer.' BOSWELL. 'Would you 
 eat your dinner that day, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and 
 eat it as if he were eating it with me. Why, there's Baretti, 
 who is to be tried for his life to-morrow, friends have risen 
 up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none 
 of them will eat a slice of plumb-pudding the less. Sir, that 
 sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in depressing the 
 mind.'
 
 170 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1769 
 
 I told him that I had dined lately at Foote's, who shewed 
 me a letter which he had received from Tom Davies, telling 
 him that he had not been able to sleep from the concern which 
 he felt on account of ' This sad affair of Baretti,' begging of 
 him to try if he could suggest any thing that might be of 
 service; and, at the same time, recommending to him an 
 industrious young man who kept a pickle-shop. JOHNSON. 
 'Ay, Sir. here you have a specimen of human sympathy; 
 a friend hanged, and a cucumber pickled. We know not 
 whether Baretti or the pickle-man has kept Davies from 
 sleep; nor does he know himself. And as to his not sleeping, 
 Sir; Tom Davies is a very great man; Tom has been upon 
 the stage, and knows how to do those things. I have not 
 been upon the stage, and cannot do those things.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'I have often blamed myself, Sir, for not feeling for 
 others as sensibly as many say they do.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 don't be duped by them any more. You will find these very 
 feeling people are not very ready to do you good. They 
 pay you by feeling.' 
 
 BOSWELL. 'Foote has a great deal of humour?' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Yes, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'He has a singular talent of 
 exhibiting character.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is not a talent; it 
 is a vice; it is what others abstain from. It is not comedy, 
 which exhibits the character of a species, as that of a miser 
 gathered from many misers: it is farce, which exhibits in- 
 dividuals.' BOSWELL. ' Did not he think of exhibiting you, 
 Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, fear restrained him; he knew I 
 would have broken his bones. I would have saved him the 
 trouble of cutting off a leg; I would not have left him a leg 
 to cut off.' BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, is not Foote an infidel?' 
 JOHNSON. 'I do not know, Sir, that the fellow is an infidel; 
 but if he be an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; 
 that is to say, he has never thought upon the subject 1 .' 
 BOSWELL. ' I suppose, Sir, he has thought superficially, and 
 seized the first notions which occurred to his mind.' JOHN- 
 
 1 When Mr. Foote was at Edinburgh, he thought fit to entertain a 
 numerous Scotch company, with a great deal of coarse jocularity, at 
 the expense of Dr. Johnson, imagining it would be acceptable. I felt 
 this as not civil to me ; but sat very patiently till he had exhausted his 
 merriment on that subject; and then observed, that surely Johnson
 
 1769] JOHNSON IN COURT 171 
 
 SON. 'Why then, Sir, still he is like a dog, that snatches the 
 piece next him. Did you never observe that dogs have not 
 the power of comparing? A dog will take a small bit of 
 meat as readily as a large, when both are before him.' 
 
 BOSWELL. 'What do you think of Dr. Young's Night 
 Thoughts, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, there are very fine 
 things in them.' BOSWELL. 'Is there not less religion in 
 the nation now, Sir, than there was formerly?' JOHNSON. 
 'I don't know, Sir, that there is.' BOSWELL. ' For instance, 
 there used to be a chaplain in every great family, which we 
 do not find now.' JOHNSON. 'Neither do you find any of 
 the state servants which great families used formerly to 
 have. There is a change of modes in the whole department 
 of life.' 
 
 Next day, October 20, he appeared, for the only time I 
 suppose in his life, as a witness in a Court of Justice, being 
 called to give evidence to the character of Mr. Baretti, 
 who having stabbed a man in the street, was arraigned at 
 the Old Bailey for murder. Never did such a constellation 
 of genius enlighten the aweful Sessions-House, emphatically 
 called JUSTICE HALL; Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beau- 
 clerk, and Dr. Johnson: and undoubtedly their favourable 
 testimony had due weight with the Court and Jury. John- 
 son gave his evidence in a slow, deliberate, and distinct man- 
 ner, which was uncommonly impressive. It is well known 
 that Mr. Baretti was acquitted. 
 
 On the 26th of October, we dined together at the Mitre 
 tavern. I found fault with Foote for indulging his talent of 
 ridicule at the expence of his visitors, which I colloquially 
 termed making fools of his company. JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 Sir, when you go to see Foote, you do not go to see a saint: 
 you go to see a man who will be entertained at your house, 
 and then bring you on a publick stage; who will entertain 
 you at his house, for the very purpose of bringing you on a 
 publick stage. Sir, he does not make fools of his company; 
 
 must be allowed to have some sterling wit. and that I had heard him 
 say a very good thing of Mr. Foote himself. ' Ah, my old friend Sam 
 (cried Foote,) no man says better things; do let us have it.' Upon 
 which I told the above story, which produced a very loud laugh from 
 the company. But I never saw Foote so disconcerted. BOBWBLU
 
 172 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1769 
 
 they whom he exposes are fools already : he only brings them 
 into action.' 
 
 We went home to his house to tea. Mrs. Williams made 
 it with sufficient dexterity, notwithstanding her blindness, 
 though her manner of satisfying herself that the cups were 
 full enough appeared to me a little aukward; for I fancied 
 she put her finger down a certain way, till she felt the tea 
 touch it. 1 In my first elation at being allowed the privilege 
 of attending Dr. Johnson at his late visits to this lady, which 
 was like being e secretioribus consiliis, I willingly drank cup 
 after cup, as if it had been the Heliconian spring. But as 
 the charm of novelty went off, I grew more fastidious; and 
 besides, I discovered that she was of a peevish temper. 
 
 There was a pretty large circle this evening. Dr. John- 
 son was in very good humour, lively, and ready to talk upon 
 all subjects. Mr. Fergusson, the self-taught philosopher, 
 told him of a new-invented machine which went without 
 horses: a man who sat in it turned a handle, which worked 
 a spring that drove it forward. 'Then, Sir, (said Johnson,) 
 what is gained is, the man has his choice whether he will 
 move himself alone, or himself and the machine too.' Do- 
 minicetti being mentioned, he would not allow him any 
 merit. 'There is nothing in all this boasted system. No, 
 Sir; medicated baths can be no better than warm water: 
 their only effect can be that of tepid moisture.' One of the 
 company took the other side, maintaining that medicines 
 of various sorts, and some too of most powerful effect, are 
 introduced into the human frame by the medium of the pores ; 
 and, therefore, when warm water is impregnated with salu- 
 tiferous substances, it may produce great effects as a bath. 
 This appeared to me very satisfactory. Johnson did not 
 answer it; but talking for victory, and determined to be 
 master of the field, he had recourse to the device which 
 Goldsmith imputed to him in the witty words of one of 
 Gibber's comedies: 'There is no arguing with Johnson; for 
 when his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the 
 butt end of it.' He turned to the gentleman, 'Well, Sir, 
 
 > Boswell afterwards learned that she felt the rising tea on the outside 
 of the cup. ED.
 
 1769] ON REARING A CHILD 173 
 
 go to Dominicetti, and get thyself fumigated; but be sure 
 that the steam be directed to thy head, for that is the peccant 
 part.' This produced a triumphant roar of laughter from 
 the motley assembly of philosophers, printers, and depen- 
 dents, male and female. 
 
 I know not how so whimsical a thought came into my 
 mind, but I asked, ' If, Sir, you were shut up in a castle, and 
 a newborn child with you, what would you do?' JOHNSON. 
 ' Why, Sir, I should not much like my company.' BOSWELL. 
 'But would you take the trouble of rearing it?' He seemed, 
 as may well be supposed, unwilling to pursue the subject: 
 but upon my persevering in my question, replied, 'Why yes, 
 Sir, I would ; but I must have all conveniencies. If I had no 
 garden, I would make a shed on the roof, and take it there 
 for fresh air. I should feed it, and wash it much, and with 
 warm water to please it, not with cold water to give it pain.' 
 BOSWELL. ' But, Sir, does not heat relax ? ' JOHNSON. ' Sir, 
 you are not to imagine the water is to be very hot. I would 
 not coddle the child. No, Sir, the hardy method of treating 
 children does no good. I'll take you five children from 
 London, who shall cuff five Highland children. Sir, a man 
 bred in London will carry a burthen, or run, or wrestle, as 
 well as a man brought up in the hardiest manner in the 
 country.' BOSWELL. 'Good living, I suppose, makes the 
 Londoners strong.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I don't know 
 that it does. Our Chairmen from Ireland, who are as 
 strong men as any, have been brought up upon potatoes. 
 Quantity makes up for quality.' BOSWELL. 'Would you 
 teach this child that I have furnished you with, any thing?' 
 JOHNSON. ' No, I should not be apt to teach it.' BOSWELL. 
 'Would not you have a pleasure in teaching it?' JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir, I should not have a pleasure in teaching it.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'Have you not a pleasure in teaching men? 
 There I have you. You have the same pleasure in teaching 
 men, that I should have in teaching children.' JOHNSON. 
 ' Why, something about that.' 
 
 I had hired a Bohemian as my servant while I remained 
 in London, and being much pleased with him, I asked Dr. 
 Johnson whether his being a Roman Catholick should pre-
 
 174 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1769 
 
 vent my taking him with me to Scotland. JOHNSON. 'Why 
 no, Sir, if he has no objection, you can have none.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'So, Sir, you are no great enemy to the Roman 
 Catholick religion.' JOHNSON. 'No more, Sir, than to the 
 Presbyterian religion.' BOSWELL. 'You are joking.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'No, Sir, I really think so. Nay, Sir, of the two, I 
 prefer the Popish.' BOSWELL. 'How so, Sir?' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, the Presbyterians have no church, no apostolical 
 ordination.' BOSWELL. 'And do you think that absolutely 
 essential, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, as it was an apos- 
 tolical institution, I think it is dangerous to be without it. 
 And, Sir, the Presbyterians have no public worship: they 
 have no form of prayer in which they know they are to join. 
 They go to hear a man pray, and are to judge whether they 
 will join with him.' 
 
 I proceeded: 'What do you think, Sir, of Purgatory, as 
 believed by the Roman Catholicks?' JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 Sir, it is a very harmless doctrine. They are of opinion 
 that the generality of mankind are neither so obstinately 
 wicked as to deserve everlasting punishment, nor so good 
 as to merit being admitted into the society of blessed spirits; 
 and therefore that God is graciously pleased to allow of a 
 middle state, where they may be purified by certain degrees 
 of suffering. You see, Sir, there is nothing unreasonable in 
 this.' BOSWELL. 'But then, Sir, their masses for the 
 dead?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, if it be once established that 
 there are souls in purgatory, it is as proper to pray for them, 
 as for our brethren of mankind who are yet in this life/ 
 BOSWELL. 'The idolatry of the Mass?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 there is no idolatry in the Mass. They believe GOD to be 
 there, and they adore him.' BOSWELL. 'The worship of 
 Saints ? ' JOHNSON. ' Sir, they do not worship saints ; they 
 invoke them; they only ask their prayers. I am talking all 
 this time of the doctrines of the Church of Rome. I grant 
 you that in practice, Purgatory is made a lucrative imposi- 
 tion, and that the people do become idolatrous as they recom- 
 mend themselves to the tutelary protection of particular 
 saints. I think their giving the sacrament only in one kind 
 is criminal, because it is contrary to the express institutioa
 
 1769] ON DEATH 175 
 
 of CHRIST, and I wonder how the Council of Trent admitted 
 it.' BOSWELL. 'Confession?' JOHNSON. 'Why, I don't 
 know but that is a good thing. The scripture says, "Confess, 
 your faults one to another," and the priests confess as well 
 as the laity. Then it must be considered that their absolu- 
 tion is only upon repentance, and often upon penance also. 
 You think your sins may be forgiven without penance, upon 
 repentance alone.' ,/> 
 
 When we were alone, I introduced the i subject of death, 
 and endeavoured to maintain that the fear of it might be 
 got over. I told him that David Hume said to me, he was. 
 no more uneasy to think he should not be after this life, 
 than that he had not been before he began to exist. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, if he really thinks so, his perceptions are dis- 
 turbed; he is mad: if he does not think sol he lies. He 
 may tell you, he holds his finger in the flame of a candle, 
 without feeling pain; would you believe him? When he 
 dies, he at least gives up all he has.' BOSWELL. 'Foote, 
 Sir, told me, that when he was very ill he was not afraid to 
 die.' JOHNSON. 'It is not true, Sir,- Hold a pistol to 
 Foote's breast, or to Hume's breast, and threaten to kill 
 them, and you'll see how they behave.' BOSWELL. 'But 
 may we not fortify our minds for the approach of death?' 
 Here I am sensible I was in the wrong, to bring before his 
 view what he ever looked upon with horrour; for although 
 when in a celestial frame, in his Vanity of Human Wishes, he 
 has supposed death to be 'kind Nature's signal for retreat,' 
 from this state of being to 'a happier seat,' his thoughts 
 upon this aweful change were in general full of dismal appre- ' 
 hensions. His mind resembled the vast amphitheatre, the 
 Colisstum at Rome. In the centre stood his judgement, 
 which, like a mighty gladiator, combated those apprehen- 
 sions that, like the wild beasts of the Arena, were all around 
 in cells, ready to be let out upon him. After a conflict, he 
 drives them back into their dens; but not killing them, 
 they were still assailing him. To my question, whether we 
 might not fortify our minds for the approach of death, he 
 answered, in a passion, 'No, Sir, let it alone. It matters 
 not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is.
 
 176 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1769 
 
 not of importance, it lasts so short a time.' He added, 
 (with an earnest look,) 'A man knows it must be so, and sub- 
 mits. It will do him no good to whine.' 
 
 I attempted to continue the conversation. He was so 
 provoked, that he said, 'Give us no more of this;' and was 
 thrown into such a state of agitation, that he expressed 
 himself in a way that alarmed and distressed me; shewed 
 an impatience that I should leave him, and when I was 
 going away, called to me sternly, 'Don't let us meet to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 I went home exceedingly uneasy. All the harsh observa- 
 tions which I had ever heard made upon his character, 
 crowded into my mind; and I seemed to myself like the 
 man who had put his head into the lion's mouth a great 
 many times with perfect safety, but at last had it bit off. 
 
 Next morning I sent him a note, stating, that I might 
 have been in the wrong, but it was not intentionally; he 
 was therefore, I could not help thinking, too severe upon 
 me. That notwithstanding our agreement not to meet 
 that day, I would call on him in my way to the city, and 
 stay five minutes by my watch. 'You are, (said I,) in my 
 mind, since last night, surrounded with cloud and storm. 
 Let me have a glimpse of sunshine, and go about my affairs 
 in serenity and chearfulness.' 
 
 Upon entering his study, I was glad that he was not 
 alone, which would have made our meeting more awkward. 
 There were with him, Mr. Steevens and Mr. Tyers, both of 
 whom I now saw for the first time. My note had, on his 
 own reflection, softened him, for he received me very com- 
 placently; so that I unexpectedly found myself at ease, and 
 joined in the conversation. 
 
 I whispered him, 'Well, Sir, you are now in good humour.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir.' I was going to leave him, and had 
 got as far as the staircase. He stopped me, and smiling, 
 said, 'Get you gone in;' a curious mode of inviting me to 
 stay, which I accordingly did for some time longer. 
 
 This little incidental quarrel and reconciliation, which, 
 perhaps, I may be thought to have detailed too minutely, 
 must be esteemed as one of many proofs which his friends
 
 1770] HIS MODE OF LIFE 177 
 
 had, that though he might be charged with bad humour at 
 times, he was always a good-natured man; and I have heard 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, a nice and delicate observer of man- 
 ners, particularly remark, that when upon any occasion 
 Johnson had been rough to any person in company, he took 
 the first opportunity of reconciliation, by drinking to him, 
 or addressing his discourse to him; but if he found his digni- 
 fied indirect overtures sullenly neglected, he was quite in- 
 different, and considered himself as having done all that 
 he ought to do, and the other as now in the wrong. 
 
 I went to him early on the morning of the tenth of No- 
 vember. ' Now (said he,) that you are going to marry, do not 
 expect more from life, than life will afford. You may often 
 find yourself out of humour, and you may often think your 
 wife not studious enough to please you ; and yet you may 
 have reason to consider yourself as upon the whole very 
 happily married.' 
 
 1770: .ETAT. 61.] DURING this year there was a total ces- 
 sation of all correspondence between Dr. Johnson and me, 
 without any coldness on either side, but merely from pro- 
 crastination, continued from day to day; and as I was not 
 in London, I had no opportunity of enjoying his company 
 and recording his conversation. To supply this blank, I 
 shall present my readers with some Collectanea, obligingly 
 furnished to me by the Rev. Dr. Maxwell, of Falkland, in 
 Ireland, sometime assistant preacher at the Temple, and for 
 many years the social friend of Johnson, who spoke of him 
 with a very kind regard. 
 
 ' His general mode of life, during my acquaintance, seemed 
 to be pretty uniform. About twelve o'clock I commonly 
 visited him, and frequently found him in bed, or declaiming 
 over his tea, which he drank very plentifully. He generally 
 had a levee of morning visitors, chiefly men of letters; Hawkes- 
 worth, Goldsmith, Murphy, Langton, Steevens, Beauclerk, 
 &c. fec., and sometimes learned ladies, particularly I remem- 
 ber a French lady of wit and fashion doing him the honour 
 of a visit. He seemed to me to be considered as a kind of 
 publick oracle, whom every body thought they had a right 
 to visit and consult; and doubtless they were well rewarded.
 
 178 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1770 
 
 I never could discover how he found time for his composi- 
 tions. He declaimed all the morning, then went to dinner 
 at a tavern, where he commonly staid late, and then drank 
 his tea at some friend's house, over which he loitered a great 
 while, but seldom took supper. I fancy he must have read 
 and wrote chiefly in the nighty for I can scarcely recollect 
 that he ever refused going with me to a tavern, and he often 
 went to Ranelagh, which he deemed a place of innocent 
 recreation. 
 
 'He frequently gave all the silver in his pocket to the 
 poor, who watched him, between his house and the tavern 
 where he dined. He walked the streets at all hours, and 
 said he was never robbed, for the rogues knew he had little 
 money, nor had the appearance of having much. 
 
 'Though the most accessible and communicative man 
 alive; yet when he suspected he was invited to be exhibited, 
 he constantly spurned the invitation. 
 
 'Two young women from Staffordshire visited him when 
 I was present, to consult him on the subject of Methodism, 
 to which they were inclined. "Come, (said he,) you pretty 
 fools, dine with Maxwell and me at the Mitre, and we will 
 talk over that subject;" which they did, and after dinner he 
 took one of them upon his knee, and fondled her for half 
 an hour together. 
 
 'Johnson was much attached to London: he observed, 
 that a man stored his mind better there, than any where 
 else; and that in remote situations a man's body might be 
 feasted, but his mind was starved, and his faculties apt to 
 degenerate, from want of exercise and competition. No 
 place, (he said,) cured a man's vanity or arrogance so well as 
 London; for as no man was either great or good per se, but 
 as compared with others not so good or great, he was sure to 
 find in the metropolis many his equals, and some his superi- 
 ours. He observed, that a man in London was in less 
 danger of falling in love indiscreetly, than any where else: 
 for there the difficulty of deciding between the conflicting 
 pretensions of a vast variety of objects, kept him safe. He 
 told me, that he had frequently been offered country prefer- 
 ment, if he would consent to take orders; but he could not
 
 1770] METHODIST PREACHING 179 
 
 leave the improved society of the capital, or consent to ex- 
 change the exhilarating joys and splendid decorations of 
 publick life, for the obscurity, insipidity, and uniformity of 
 remote situations. 
 
 'Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, he said, was the only 
 book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than 
 he wished to rise. 
 
 'When exasperated by contradiction, he was apt to treat 
 his opponents with too much acrimony: as, "Sir, you don't 
 see your way through that question:" "Sir, you talk the 
 language of ignorance." On my observing to him that a 
 certain gentleman had remained silent the whole eve- 
 ning, in the midst of a very brilliant and learned society, 
 "Sir, (said he,) the conversation overflowed, and drowned 
 him." 
 
 'He observed, that the established clergy in general did 
 not preach plain enough; and that polished periods and 
 glittering sentences flew over the heads of the common peo- 
 ple, without any impression upon their hearts. Something 
 might be necessary, he observed, to excite the affections of 
 the common people, who were sunk in languor and lethargy, 
 and therefore he supposed that the new concomitants of 
 methodism might probably produce so desirable an effect. 
 The mind, like the body, he observed, delighted in change 
 and novelty, and even in religion itself, courted new ap- 
 pearances and modifications. Whatever might be thought 
 of some methodist teachers, he said, he could scarcely doubt 
 the sincerity of that man, who travelled nine hundred miles 
 in a month, and preached twelve times a week; for no ade- 
 quate reward, merely temporal, could be given for such 
 indefatigable labour. 
 
 'In a Latin conversation with the Pere Boscovitch, at the 
 house of Mrs. Cholmondeley, I heard him maintain the supe- 
 riority of Sir Isaac Newton over all foreign philosophers, 
 with a dignity and eloquence that surprized that learned 
 foreigner. It being observed to him, that a rage for every 
 thing English prevailed much in France after Lord Chat- 
 ham's glorious war, he said, he did not wonder at it, for 
 that we had drubbed those fellows into a proper reverence
 
 180 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON . [mo 
 
 for us, and that their national petulance required periodical 
 chastisement. 
 
 'Speaking of a dull tiresome fellow, whom he chanced to 
 meet, he said, "That fellow seems to me to possess but one 
 idea, and that is a wrong one." 
 
 'Much enquiry having been made concerning a gentleman, 
 who had quitted a company where Johnson was, and no in- 
 formation being obtained; at last Johnson observed, that 
 "he did not care to speak ill of any man behind his back, 
 but he believed the gentleman was an attorney." 
 
 'A gentleman who had been very unhappy in marriage, 
 married immediately after his wife died: Johnson said, it 
 was the triumph of hope over experience. 
 
 'He observed, that a man of sense and education should 
 meet a suitable companion in a wife. It was a miserable 
 thing when the conversation could only be such as, whether 
 the mutton should be boiled or roasted, and probably a 
 dispute about that. 
 
 'He did not approve of late marriages, observing that 
 more was lost in point of time, than compensated for by any 
 possible advantages. Even ill assorted marriages were pref- 
 erable to cheerless celibacy. 
 
 'He said, foppery was never cured; it was the bad stamina 
 of the mind, which, like those of the body, were never recti- 
 fied: once a coxcomb, and always a coxcomb. 
 
 ' Being told that Gilbert Cowper called him the Caliban of 
 literature; "Well, (said he,) I must dub him the Punchinello." 
 
 'He said few people had intellectual resources sufficient to 
 forego the pleasures of wine. They could not otherwise 
 contrive how to fill the interval between dinner and supper. 
 
 'One evening at Mrs. Montagu's, where a splendid com- 
 pany was assembled, consisting of the most eminent literary 
 characters, I thought he seemed highly pleased with the 
 respect and attention that were shewn him, and asked him 
 on our return home if he was not highly gratified by his visit: 
 "No, Sir, (said he,) not highly gratified; yet I do not recol- 
 lect to have passed many evenings with fewer objections." 
 
 'Though of no high extraction himself, he had much re- 
 spect for birth and family, especially among ladies. He
 
 1771] JOHNSON'S PORTRAIT 181 
 
 said, ''adventitious accomplishments may be possessed by 
 all ranks; but one may easily distinguish the born gentle- 
 woman." 
 
 'Speaking of Burke, he said, "It was commonly observed, 
 he spoke too often in parliament; but nobody could say he 
 did not speak well, though too frequently and too familiarly." 
 
 'We dined tSte d ttte at the Mitre, as I was preparing to 
 return to Ireland, after an absence of many years. I re- 
 gretted much leaving London, where I had formed many 
 agreeable connexions: "Sir, (said he,) I don't wonder at it; 
 no man, fond of letters, leaves London without regret. But 
 remember, Sir, you have seen and enjoyed a great deal; 
 you have seen life in its highest decorations, and the world 
 has nothing new to exhibit. No man is so well qualifyed to 
 leave publick life as he who has long tried it and known it 
 well. We are always hankering after untried situations, 
 and imagining greater felicity from them than they can 
 afford. No, Sir, knowledge and virtue may be acquired in 
 all countries, and your local consequence will make you 
 some amends for the intellectual gratifications you relin- 
 quish." 
 
 'He then took a most affecting leave of me; said, he 
 knew, it was a point of duty that called me away. "We 
 shall all be sorry to lose you," said he: "laudo tamen.'" 
 
 1771. ^ETAT. 62.] 
 'To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS, ix LEICESTER-FIELDS. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, When I came to Lichfield, I found that my 
 portrait had been much visited, and much admired. Every 
 man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native 
 place; and I was pleased with the dignity conferred by such 
 a testimony of your regard. 
 
 'Be pleased, therefore, to accept the thanks of, Sir, your 
 most obliged and most humble servant, 
 
 'Ashbourn in Derbyshire, *SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 July 17, 1771.' 
 
 'Compliments to Miss Reynolds.'
 
 182 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1771 
 
 In his religious record of this year, we observe that he 
 was better than usual, both in body and mind, and better 
 satisfied with the regularity of his conduct. But he is still 
 'trying his ways' too rigorously. He charges himself with 
 not risitig early enough; yet he mentions what was surely 
 a sufficient excuse for this, supposing it to be a duty seriously 
 required, as he all his life appears to have thought it. ' One 
 great hindrance is want of rest; my nocturnal complaints 
 grow less troublesome towards morning; and I am tempted 
 to repair the deficiencies of the night.' Alas! how hard 
 would it be if this indulgence were to be imputed to a sick 
 man as a crime. In his retrospect on the following Easter- 
 Eve, he says, 'When I review the last year, I am able to 
 recollect so little done, that shame and sorrow, though per- 
 haps too weakly, come upon me.' 
 
 In 1772 he was altogether quiescent as an authour; but 
 it will be found from the various evidences which I shall 
 bring together that his mind was acute, lively, and vigorous. 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, That you are coming so soon to town I am 
 very glad; and still more glad that you are coming as an 
 advocate. I think nothing more likely to make your life 
 pass happily away, than that consciousness of your own 
 value, which eminence in your profession will certainly con- 
 fer. If I can give you any collateral help, I hope you do 
 not suspect that it will be wanting. My kindness for you 
 has neither the merit of singular virtue, nor the reproach 
 of singular prejudice. Whether to love you be right or 
 wrong, I have many on my side: Mrs. Thrale loves you, 
 and Mrs. Williams loves you, and what would have inclined 
 me to love you, if I had been neutral before, you are a great 
 favourite of Dr. Beattie. 1 
 
 'Of Dr. Beattie I. should have thought much, but that 
 his lady puts him out of my head; she is a very lovely woman. 
 
 'The ejection which you come hither to oppose, appears 
 
 Boswell had given Beattie a letter of introduction to Johnson the 
 preceding summer. ED.
 
 1772] BOSWELL AGAIN IN LONDON 183 
 
 very cruel, unreasonable, and oppressive. I should think 
 there could not be much doubt of your succrtb.'- 
 
 'My health grows better, yet I am not fully recovered. 
 I believe it is held, that men do not recover very fast after 
 threescore. I hope yet to see Beattie's College: and have 
 not given up the western voyage. But however all this 
 may be or not, let us try to make each other happy when 
 we meet, and not refer our pleasure to distant times or 
 distant places. 
 
 'How comes it that you tell me nothing of your lady? I 
 hope to see her some time, and till then shall be glad to 
 hear of her. I am, dear Sir, &c. 
 
 'March 15, 1772.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 On the 21st of March, I was happy to find myself again 
 in my friend's study, and was glad to see my old acquain- 
 tance, Mr. Francis Barber, who was now returned home. 
 Dr. Johnson received me with a hearty welcome; saying, 
 'I am glad you are come.' 
 
 I thanked him for showing civilities to Beattie. 'Sir, 
 (said he,) I should thank you. We all love Beattie. Mrs. 
 Thrale says, if ever she has another husband, she'll have 
 Beattie. He sunk upon us that he was married; else we 
 should have shewn his lady more civilities. She is a very 
 fine woman. But how can you shew civilities to a nonentity? 
 I did not think he had been married. Nay, I did not think 
 about it one way or other; but he did not tell us of his lady 
 till late.' 
 
 He then spoke of St. Kilda, the most remote of the Heb- 
 rides. I told him, I thought of buying it. JOHNSON. 
 ' Pray do, Sir. We will go and pass a winter amid the blasts 
 there. We shall have fine fish, and we will take some dried 
 tongues with us, and some books. We will have a strong 
 built vessel, and some Orkney men to navigate her. We 
 must build a tolerable house: but we may carry with us a 
 wooden house ready made, and requiring nothing but to 
 be put up. Consider, Sir, by buying St. Kilda, you may 
 keep the people from falling into worse hands. We must 
 give them a clergyman, and he shall be one of Beattie's
 
 184 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1772 
 
 choosing. He shall be educated at Marischal College. I'll 
 be your Lord Chancellor, or what you please.' BOSWELL. 
 'Are you serious, Sir, in advising me to buy St. Kilda? for 
 if you should advise me to go to Japan, I believe I should 
 do it.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir, I am serious.' BOSWELL. 
 'Why then, I'll see what can be done.' 
 
 He was engaged to dine abroad, and asked me to return 
 to him in the evening at nine, which I accordingly did. 
 
 We drank tea with Mrs. Williams, who told us a story of 
 second sight, which happened in Wales where she was born. 
 He listened to it very attentively, and said he should be 
 glad to have some instances of that faculty well authenti- 
 cated. His elevated wish for more and more evidence for 
 spirit, in opposition to the groveling belief of materialism, 
 led him to a love of such mysterious disquisitions. He 
 again justly observed, that we could have no certainty of 
 the truth of supernatural appearances, unless something 
 was told us which we could not know by ordinary means, 
 or something done which could not be done but by super- 
 natural power; that Pharaoh in reason and justice required 
 such evidence from Moses; nay, that our Saviour said, 'If 
 I had not done among them the works which none other 
 man did, they had not had sin.' 
 
 We talked of the Roman Catholick religion, and how 
 little difference there was in essential matters between ours 
 and it. JOHNSON. 'True, Sir; all denominations of Chris- 
 tians have really little difference in point of doctrine, though 
 they may differ widely in external forms. There is a pro- 
 digious difference between the external form of one of your 
 Presbyterian churches in Scotland, and a church in Italy; 
 yet the doctrine taught is essentially the same.' 
 
 In the morning we had talked of old families, and the 
 respect due to them. JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have a right to 
 that kind of respect, and are arguing for yourself. I am for 
 supporting the principle, and am disinterested in doing it, 
 as I have no such right.' BOSWELL. 'Why, Sir, it is one 
 more incitement to a man to do well.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, 
 Sir, and it is a matter of opinion, very necessary to keep 
 society together. What is it but opinion, by which we have
 
 1772] RESPECT FOR OLD FAMILIES 185 
 
 a respect for authority, that prevents us, who are the rabble, 
 from rising up and pulling down you who are gentlemen 
 from your places, and saying, "We will be gentlemen in our 
 turn?" Now, Sir, that respect for authority is much more 
 easily granted to a man whose father has had it, than to an 
 upstart, and so Society is more easily supported.' BOSWELL. 
 'At present, Sir, I think riches seem to gain most respect.' 
 JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, riches do not gain hearty respect; they 
 only procure external attention. A very rich man, from 
 low beginnings, may buy his election in a borough; but, 
 cccteris paribus, a man of family will be preferred. People 
 will prefer a man for whose father their fathers have voted, 
 though they should get no more money, or even less. That 
 shows that the respect for family is not merely fanciful, 
 but has an actual operation. If gentlemen of family would 
 allow the rich upstarts to spend their money profusely, 
 which they are ready enough to do, and not vie with them 
 in expence, the upstarts would soon be at an end, and the 
 gentlemen would remain: but if the gentlemen will vie in 
 expence with the upstarts, which is very foolish, they must 
 be ruined.' 
 
 On Monday, March 23, I found him busy, preparing a 
 fourth edition of his folio Dictionary. Mr. Peyton, one of 
 his original amanuenses, was writing for him. 
 
 He seemed also to be intent on some sort of chymical 
 operation. I was entertained by observing how he con- 
 trived to send Mr. Peyton on an errand, without seeming 
 to degrade him. 'Mr. Peyton, Mr. Peyton, will you be 
 so good as to take a walk to Temple-Bar? You will there 
 see a chymist's shop; at which you will be pleased to buy for 
 me an ounce of oil of vitriol; not spirit of vitriol, but oil of 
 vitriol. It will cost three half-pence.' Peyton immediately 
 went, and returned with it, and told him it cost but a penny. 
 
 On Saturday, March 27, 1 introduced to him Sir Alexander 
 Macdonald, with whom he had expressed a wish to be ac- 
 quainted. He received him very courteously. 
 
 SIR A. 'I think, Sir, almost all great lawyers, such at 
 least as have written upon law, have known only law, and 
 nothing else.' JOHNSON. 'Why no, Sir; Judge Hale was
 
 186 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1772 
 
 a great lawyer, and wrote upon law; and yet he knew a great 
 many other things, and has written upon other things. 
 Selden too.' SIR A. 'Very true, Sir; and Lord Bacon. 
 But was not Lord Coke a mere lawyer?' JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 I am afraid he was; but he would have taken it very ill if 
 you had told him so. He would have prosecuted you for 
 scandal.' BOSWELL. 'Lord Mansfield is not a mere lawyer.' 
 JOHNSON. ' No, Sir. I never was in Lord Mansfield's com- 
 pany; but Lord Mansfield was distinguished at the Univer- 
 sity. Lord Mansfield, when he first came to town, "drank 
 champagne with the wits," as Prior says. He was the friend 
 of Pope.' SIR A. 'Barristers, I believe, are not so abusive 
 now as they were formerly. I fancy they had less law long 
 ago, and so were obliged to take to abuse, to fill up the 
 time. Now they have such a number of precedents, they 
 have no occasion for abuse.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, they had 
 more law long ago than they have now. As to precedents, 
 to be sure they will increase in course of time; but the 
 more precedents there are, the less occasion is there for law; 
 that is to say, the less occasion is there for investigating 
 principles.' SIR A. 'I have been correcting several Scotch 
 accents in my friend Boswell. I doubt, Sir, if any Scotch- 
 man ever attains to a perfect English pronunciation.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Why, Sir, few of them do, because they do not per- 
 severe after acquiring a certain degree of it. But, Sir, there 
 can be no doubt that they may attain to a perfect English 
 pronunciation, if they will. We find how near they come to 
 it; and certainly, a man who conquers nineteen parts of the 
 Scottish accent, may conquer the twentieth. But, Sir, 
 when a man has got the better of nine tenths he grows 
 weary, he relaxes his diligence, he finds he has corrected 
 his accent so far as not to be disagreeable, and he no longer 
 desires his friends to tell him when he is wrong; nor does 
 he choose to be told. Sir, when people watch me narrowly, 
 and I do not watch myself, they will find me out to be of 
 a particular county. In the same manner, Dunning may 
 be found out to be a Devonshire man. So most Scotchmen 
 may be found out. But, Sir, little aberrations are of no 
 disadvantage. I never catched Mallet in a Scotch accent;
 
 1772] ON GHOSTS 187 
 
 and yet Mallet, I suppose, was past five-and-twenty before 
 he came to London.' 
 
 I again visited him at night. Finding him in a very good 
 humour, I ventured to lead him to the subject of our situa- 
 tion in a future state, having much curiosity to know his 
 notions on that point. . . . 
 
 BOSWELL. 'I do not know whether there are any well- 
 attested stories of the appearance of ghosts. You know 
 there is a famous story of the appearance of Mrs. Veal, pre- 
 fixed to Drelincourt on Death.' JOHNSON. 'I believe, Sir, 
 that is given up. I believe the woman declared upon her 
 death-bed that it was a lie.' BOSWELL. 'This objection 
 is made against the truth of ghosts appearing: that if they 
 are in a state of happiness, it would be a punishment to 
 them to return to this world; and if they are in a state of 
 misery, it would be giving them a respite.' JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 Sir, as the happiness or misery of embodied spirits does not 
 depend upon place, but is intellectual, we cannot say that 
 they are less happy or less miserable by appearing upon earth.' 
 
 We went down between twelve and one to Mrs. Williams's 
 room, and drank tea. I mentioned that we were to have 
 the remains of Mr. Gray, in prose and verse, published by 
 Mr. Mason. JOHNSON. 'I think we have had enough of 
 Gray. I see they have published a splendid edition of 
 Akenside's works. One bad ode may be suffered; but a 
 number of them together makes one sick.' BOSWELL. 
 * Akenside's distinguished poem is his Pleasures of Imagina- 
 tion: but for my part, I never could admire it so much as 
 most people do.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I could not read it 
 through.' BOSWELL. 'I have read it through; but I did 
 not find any great power in it.' 
 
 On Tuesday, March 31, he and I dined at General Paoli's. 
 
 Dr. Johnson went home with me to my lodgings in Con- 
 duit-street and drank tea, previous to our going to the 
 Pantheon, which neither of us had seen before. 
 
 He said, 'Goldsmith's Life of Parnell is poor; not that it 
 is poorly written, but that he had poor materials; for no- 
 body can write the life of a man, but those who have eat 
 and drunk and lived in social intercourse with him.'
 
 188 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1772 
 
 I said, that if it was not troublesome and presuming too 
 much, I would request him to tell me all the little cir- 
 cumstances of his life; what schools he attended, when he 
 came to Oxford, when he came to London, &c. &c. He did 
 not disapprove of my curiosity as to these particulars; but 
 said, 'They'll come out by degrees as we talk together.' 
 
 We talked of the proper use of riches. JOHNSON. 'If 
 I were a man of a great estate, I would drive all the rascals 
 whom I did not like out of the county at an election.' 
 
 We then walked to the Pantheon. The first view of it did 
 not strike us so much as Ranelagh, of which he said, the 
 'coup d'oeil was the finest thing he had ever seen.' The truth 
 is, Ranelagh is of a more beautiful form; more of it, or 
 rather indeed the whole rotunda, appears at once, and it is 
 better lighted. However, as Johnson observed, we saw the 
 Pantheon in time of mourning, when there was a dull uni- 
 formity; whereas we had seen Ranelagh when the view was 
 enlivened with a gay profusion of colours. Mrs. Bosville, of 
 Gunthwait, in Yorkshire, joined us, and entered into con- 
 versation with us. Johnson said to me afterwards, 'Sir, 
 this is a mighty intelligent lady.' 
 
 I said there was not half a guinea's worth of pleasure in 
 seeing this place. JOHNSON. 'But, Sir, there is half a 
 guinea's worth of inferiority to other people in not having 
 seen it.' BOSWELL. 'I doubt, Sir, whether there are many 
 happy people here.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, there are many 
 happy people here. There are many people here who are 
 watching hundreds, and who think hundreds are watching 
 them.' 
 
 Happening to meet Sir Adam Fergusson, I presented him 
 to Dr. Johnson. Sir Adam expressed some apprehension 
 that the Pantheon would encourage luxury. 'Sir, (said 
 Johnson,) I am a great friend to publick amusements; for 
 they keep people from vice. You now (addressing himself 
 to me,) would have been with a wench, had you not been 
 here. -O ! I forgot you were married.' 
 
 Sir Adam suggested, that luxury corrupts a people, and 
 destroys the spirit of liberty. JOHNSON. 'Sir, that is 1 all 
 visionary. I would not give half a guinea to live under
 
 1772] ON POWER 189 
 
 form of government rather than another. It is of no mo- 
 ment to the happiness of an individual. Sir, the danger of 
 the abuse of power is nothing to a private man. What 
 Frenchman is prevented from passing his life as he pleases ? ' 
 SIR ADAM. 'But, Sir, in the British constitution it is surely 
 of importance to keep up a spirit in the people, so as to pre- 
 serve a balance against the crown.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I 
 perceive you are a vile Whig. Why all this childish jealousy 
 of the power of the crown? The crown has not power 
 enough. When I say that all governments are alike, I con- 
 sider that in no government power can be abused long. 
 Mankind will not bear it. If a sovereign oppresses his peo- 
 ple to a great degree, they will rise and cut off his head. 
 There is a remedy in human nature against tyranny, that will 
 keep us safe under every form of government. Had not the 
 people of France thought themselves honoured as sharing in 
 the brilliant actions of Lewis XIV, they would not have 
 endured him; and we may say the same of the King of 
 Prussia's people.' Sir Adam introduced the ancient Greeks 
 and Romans. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the mass of both of them 
 were barbarians. The mass of every people must be bar- 
 barous where there is no printing, and consequently knowl- 
 edge is not generally diffused. Knowledge is diffused among 
 our people by the news-papers.' Sir Adam mentioned the 
 orators, poets, and artists of Greece. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I am 
 talking of the mass of the people. We see even what the 
 boasted Athenians were. The little effect which Demos- 
 thenes's orations had upon them, shews that they were bar- 
 barians.' 
 
 On Sunday, April 5, after attending divine service at St. 
 Paul's church, I found him alone. 
 
 He said, he went more frequently to church when there 
 were prayers only, than when there was also a sermon, as 
 the people required more an example for the one than the 
 other; it being much easier for them to hear a sermon, than 
 to fix their minds on prayer. 
 
 On Monday, April 6, I dined with him at Sir Alexander 
 Macdonald's, where was a young officer in the regimentals 
 of the Scots Royal, who talked with a vivacity, fluency,
 
 190 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1772 
 
 and precision so uncommon, that he attracted particular 
 attention. He proved to be the Honourable Thomas Ers- 
 kine, youngest brother to the Earl of Buchan, who has since 
 risen into such brilliant reputation at the bar in West- 
 minster-hall. 
 
 Fielding being mentioned, Johnson exclaimed, 'he was a 
 blockhead;' and upon my expressing my astonishment at so 
 strange an assertion, he said, 'What I mean by his being a 
 blockhead is that he was a barren rascal.' BOSWELL. 'Will 
 you not allow, Sir, that he draws very natural pictures of 
 human We?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is of very low life. 
 Richardson used to say, that had he not known who Fielding 
 was, he should have believed he was an ostler. Sir, there is 
 more knowledge of the heart in one letter of Richardson's, 
 than in all Tom Jones. I, indeed, never read Joseph An- 
 drews' ERSKINE. 'Surely, Sir, Richardson is very tedious.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, if you were to read Richardson for 
 the story, your impatience would be so much fretted that 
 you would hang yourself. But you must read him for the 
 sentiment, and consider the story as only giving occasion 
 to the sentiment.' 
 
 We talked of gaming, and animadverted on it with se- 
 verity. JOHNSON. 'Nay, gentlemen, let us not aggravate 
 the matter. It is not roguery to play with a man who is 
 ignorant of the game, while you are master of it, and so win 
 his money; for he thinks he can play better than you, as you 
 think you can play better than he; and the superiour skill 
 carries it.' ERSKINE. ' He is a fool, but you are not a rogue.' 
 JOHNSON. 'That's much about the truth, Sir. It must be 
 considered, that a man who only does what every one of the 
 society to which he belongs would do, is not a dishonest man. 
 In the republick of Sparta, it was agreed, that stealing was 
 not dishonourable, if not discovered. I do not commend 
 a society where there is an agreement that what would not 
 otherwise be fair, shall be fair; but I maintain, that an 
 individual of any society, who practises what is allowed, is 
 not a dishonest man.' BOSWELL. 'So then, Sir, you do not 
 think ill of a man who wins perhaps forty thousand pounds 
 in a winter?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I do not call a gamester a
 
 1772] GHOSTS AND WITCHES 191 
 
 dishonest man; but I call him an unsocial man, an unprofit- 
 able man. Gaming is a mode of transferring property with- 
 out producing any intermediate good. Trade gives employ- 
 ment to numbers, and so produces intermediate good.' 
 
 On Thursday, April 9, I called on him to beg he would go 
 and dine with me at the Mitre tavern. He had resolved not 
 to dine at all this day, I know not for what reason; and 
 I was so unwilling to be deprived of his company, that I 
 was content to submit to suffer a want, which was at first 
 somewhat painful, but he soon made me forget it; and a man 
 is always pleased with himself when he finds his intellectual 
 inclinations predominate. 
 
 He observed, that to reason philosophically on the nature 
 of prayer, was very unprofitable. 
 
 Talking of ghosts, he said, he knew one friend, who was 
 an honest man and a sensible man, who told him he had seen 
 a ghost, old Mr. Edward Cave, the printer at St. John's 
 Gate. He said, Mr. Cave did not like to talk of it, and seemed 
 to be in great horrour whenever it was mentioned. BOS- 
 WELL. 'Pray, Sir, what did he say was the appearance?' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, something of a shadowy being.' 
 
 On Friday, April 10, I dined with him at General Ogle- 
 thorpe's, where we found Dr. Goldsmith. 
 
 I started the question whether duelling was consistent 
 with moral duty. The brave old General fired at this, and 
 said, with a lofty air, 'Undoubtedly a man has a right to 
 defend his honour.' GOLDSMITH, (turning to me,) 'I ask 
 you first, Sir, what would you do if you were affronted?' 
 I answered I should think it necessary to fight. 'Why then, 
 (replied Goldsmith,) that solves the question.' JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir, it does not solve the question. It does not follow 
 that what a man would do is therefore right.' I said, I 
 wished to have it settled, whether duelling was contrary to 
 the laws of Christianity. Johnson immediately entered on 
 the subject, and treated it in a masterly manner; and so 
 far as I have been able to recollect, his thoughts were these: 
 'Sir, as men become in a high degree refined, various causes 
 of offence arise; which are considered to be of such impor- 
 tance, that life must be staked to atone for them, though in
 
 192 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1772 
 
 reality they are not so. A body that has received a very fine 
 polish may be easily hurt. Before men arrive at this arti- 
 ficial refinement, if one tells his neighbour he lies, his neigh- 
 bour tells him he lies; if one gives his neighbour a blow, his 
 neighbour gives him a blow: but in a state of highly pol- 
 ished society, an affront is held to be a serious injury. It 
 must therefore be resented, or rather a duel must be fought 
 upon it; as men have agreed to banish from their society 
 one who puts up with an affront without fighting a duel. 
 Now, Sir, it is never unlawful to fight in self-defence. He, 
 then, who fights a duel, does not fight from passion against 
 his antagonist, but out of self-defence; to avert the stigma 
 of the world, and to prevent himself from being driven out 
 of society. I could wish there was not that superfluity of 
 refinement; but while such notions prevail, no doubt a man 
 may lawfully fight a duel.' 
 
 The General told us, that when he was a very young man, 
 I think only fifteen, serving under Prince Eugene of Savoy, 
 he was sitting in a company at table with a Prince of Wir- 
 temberg. The Prince took up a glass of wine, and, by a 
 fillip, made some of it fly in Oglethorpe's face. Here was a 
 nice dilemma. To have challenged him instantly, might 
 have fixed a quarrelsome character upon the young soldier: 
 to have taken no notice of it might have been considered as 
 cowardice. Oglethorpe, therefore, keeping his eye upon the 
 Prince, and smiling all the time, as if he took what his High- 
 ness had done in jest, said 'Mon Prince, ' (I forget the 
 French words he used, the purport however was,) 'That's 
 a good joke; but we do it much better in England; ' and threw 
 a whole glass of wine in the Prince's face. An old General 
 who sat by, said, 'II a bien fait, mon Prince, vous I'avez 
 commence:' and thus all ended in good humour. 
 
 Dr. Johnson said, 'Pray, General, give us an account of 
 the siege of Belgrade.' Upon which the General, pouring 
 a little wine upon the table, described every thing with a 
 wet finger: 'Here we were, here were the Turks,' &c. &c. 
 Johnson listened with the closest attention. 
 
 A question was started, how far people who disagree in 
 a capital point can live in friendship together. Johnson
 
 1772] FRIENDSHIP 193 
 
 said they might. Goldsmith said they could not, as they 
 had not the idem velle atque idem nolle the same likings and 
 the same aversions. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, you must shun 
 the subject as to which you disagree. For instance, I can 
 live very well with Burke: I love his knowledge, his genius, 
 his diffusion, and affluence of conversation; but I would not 
 talk to him of the Rockingham party.' GOLDSMITH. 'But, 
 Sir, when people live together who have something as to 
 which they disagree, and which they want to shun, they will 
 be in the situation mentioned in the story of Bluebeard: 
 "You may look into all the chambers but one." But we 
 should have the greatest inclination to look into that cham- 
 ber, to talk of that subject.' JOHNSON, (with a loud voice,) 
 'Sir, I am not saying that you could live in friendship with 
 a man from whom you differ as to some point: I am only 
 saying that / could do it. You put me in mind of Sappho 
 in Ovid.' 
 
 Goldsmith told us, that he was now busy in writing a 
 natural history, and, that he might have full leisure for it, he 
 had taken lodgings, at a farmer's house, near to the six mile- 
 stone, on the Edgeware road, and had carried down his books 
 in two returned post-chaises. He said, he believed the 
 farmer's family thought him an odd character, similar to 
 that in which the Spectator appeared to his landlady and her 
 children: he was The Gentleman. Mr. Mickle, the trans- 
 lator of The Lusiad, and I went to visit him at this place a 
 few days afterwards. He was not at home; but having a 
 curiosity to see his apartment, we went in and found curious 
 scraps of descriptions of animals, scrawled upon the wall 
 with a black lead pencil. 
 
 On Saturday, April 11, he appointed me to come to him 
 in the evening, when he should be at leisure to give me some 
 assistance for the defence of Hastie, the schoolmaster of 
 Campbelltown, for whom I was to appear in the House of 
 Lords. When I came, I found him unwilling to exert him- 
 self. I pressed him to write down his thoughts upon the 
 subject. He said, 'There's no occasion for my writing. 
 I'll talk to you.' . . . 
 
 Of our friend, Goldsmith, he said, 'Sir, he is so much
 
 194 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1772 
 
 afraid of being unnoticed, that he often talks merely lest 
 you should forget that he is in the company.' BOSWELL. 
 'Yes, he stands forward.' JOHNSON. 'True, Sir; but if a 
 man is to stand forward, he should wish to do it not in an 
 aukward posture, not in rags, not so as that he shall only 
 be exposed to ridicule.' BOSWELL. 'For my part, I like 
 very well to hear honest Goldsmith talk away carelessly.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; but he should not like to hear 
 himself.' . . . 
 
 On Tuesday, April 14, the decree of the Court of Session 
 in the schoolmaster's cause was reversed in the House of 
 Lords, after a very eloquent speech by Lord Mansfield, who 
 shewed himself an adept in school discipline, but I thought 
 was too rigorous towards my client. On the evening of the 
 next day I supped with Dr. Johnson, at the Crown and 
 Anchor tavern, in the Strand, in company with Mr. Lang- 
 ton and his brother-in-law, Lord Binning. 
 
 I talked of the recent expulsion of six students from the 
 University of Oxford, who were methodists and would not 
 desist from publickly praying and exhorting. JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, that expulsion was extremely just and proper. What 
 have they to do at an University who are not willing to be 
 taught, but will presume to teach? Where is religion to 
 be learnt but at an University? Sir, they were examined, 
 and found to be mighty ignorant fellows.' BOSWELL. 'But, 
 was it not hard, Sir, to expel them, for I am told they were 
 good beings?' JOHNSON. 'I believe they might be good 
 beings; but they were not fit to be in the University of 
 Oxford. A cow is a very good animal in the field; but we 
 turn her out of a garden.' Lord Elibank used to repeat 
 this as an illustration uncommonly happy. 
 
 Desirous of calling Johnson forth to talk, and exercise 
 his wit, though I should myself be the object of it, I reso- 
 lutely ventured to undertake the defence of convivial in- 
 dulgence in wine, though he was not to-night in the most 
 genial humour. After urging the common plausible topicks, 
 I at last had recourse to the maxim, in vino veritas, a man 
 who is well warmed with wine will speak truth. JOHNSON. 
 ' Why, Sir, that may be an argument for drinking, if you
 
 1772] HE READS THE BIBLE THROUGH 195 
 
 suppose men in general to be liars. But, Sir, I would not 
 keep company with a fellow, who lyes as long as he is sober, 
 and whom you must make drunk before you can get a word 
 of truth out of him.' 
 
 At this time it appears from his Prayers and Meditations, 
 that he had been more than commonly diligent in religious 
 duties, particularly in reading the Holy Scriptures. It was 
 Passion Week, that solemn season which the Christian world 
 has appropriated to the commemoration of the mysteries of 
 our redemption, and during which, whatever embers of re- 
 ligion are in our breasts, will be kindled into pious warmth. 
 
 I paid him short visits both on Friday and Saturday, and 
 seeing his large folio Greek Testament before him, beheld 
 him with a reverential awe, and would not intrude upon his- 
 time. While he was thus employed to such good purpose, 
 and while his friends in their intercourse with him con- 
 stantly found a vigorous intellect and a lively imagination, 
 it is melancholy to read in his private register, 'My mind 
 is unsettled and my memory confused. I have of late 
 turned my thoughts with a very useless earnestness upon 
 past incidents. I have yet got no command over my 
 thoughts; an unpleasing incident is almost certain to hin- 
 der my rest.' What philosophick heroism was it in him 
 to appear with such manly fortitude to the world, while he 
 was inwardly so distressed! We may surely believe that 
 the mysterious principle of being 'made perfect through 
 suffering' was to be strongly exemplified in him. 
 
 On Sunday, April 19, being Easter-day, General Paoli 
 and I paid him a visit before dinner. 
 
 We talked of sounds. The General said, there was no- 
 beauty in a simple sound, but only in an harmonious com- 
 position of sounds. I presumed to differ from this opinion, 
 and mentioned the soft and sweet sound of a fine woman's 
 voice. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, if a serpent or a toad uttered 
 it, you would think it ugly.' BOSWELL. 'So you would 
 think, Sir, were a beautiful tune to be uttered by one of 
 those animals.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, it would be admired. 
 W T e have seen fine fiddlers whom we liked as little as toads/ 
 (laughing.)
 
 198 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1772 
 
 While I remained in London this spring, I was with him 
 at several other times, both by himself and in company. I 
 dined with him one day at the Crown and Anchor tavern, 
 in the Strand, with Lord Elibank, Mr. Langton, and Dr. 
 Vansittart of Oxford. Without specifying each particular 
 day, I have preserved the following memorable things. 
 
 I regretted the reflection in his Preface to Shakspeare 
 against Garrick, to whom we cannot but apply the follow- 
 ing passage: 'I collated such copies as I could procure, and 
 wished for more, but have not found the collectors of these 
 rarities very communicative.' I told him, that Garrick had 
 complained to me of it, and had vindicated himself by assur- 
 ing me, that Johnson was made welcome to the full use of 
 his collection, and that he left the key of it with a servant, 
 with orders to have a fire and every convenience for him. 
 I found Johnson's notion was, that Garrick wanted to be 
 courted for them, and that, on the contrary, Garrick should 
 have courted him, and sent him the plays of his own accord. 
 But, indeed, considering the slovenly and careless manner 
 in which books were treated by Johnson, it could not be 
 expected that scarce and valuable editions should have been 
 lent to him. 
 
 A gentleman 1 having to some of the usual arguments for 
 drinking added this: 'You know, Sir, drinking drives away 
 care, and makes us forget whatever is disagreeable. Would 
 not you allow a man to drink for that reason?' JOHNSON. 
 'Yes, Sir, if he sat next you.' 
 
 A learned gentleman who in the course of conversation 
 wished to inform us of this simple fact, that the Counsel 
 upon the circuit at Shrewsbury were much bitten by fleas, 
 took, I suppose, seven or eight minutes in relating it cir- 
 cumstantially. He in a plenitude of phrase told us, that 
 large bales of woollen cloth were lodged in the town-hall; 
 that by reason of this, fleas nestled there in prodigious 
 numbers; that the lodgings of the counsel were near to the 
 town-hall; and that those little animals moved from place 
 to place with wonderful agility. Johnson sat in great im- 
 patience till the gentleman had finished his tedious narra- 
 1 The gentleman most likely is Boswell. HILL.
 
 1772] UNIMPORTANCE OF CLIMATE 197 
 
 tive, and then burst out (playfully however), 'It is a pity, 
 Sir, that you have not seen a lion; for a flea has taken you 
 such a time, that a lion must have served you a twelve- 
 month.' 
 
 He would not allow Scotland to derive any credit from Lord 
 Mansfield; for he was educated in England. 'Much (said 
 he,) may be made of a Scotchman, if he be caught young.' 
 
 He said, ' I am very unwilling to read the manuscripts of 
 authours, and give them my opinion. If the authours who 
 apply to me have money, I bid them boldly print without 
 a name; if they have written in order to get money, I tell 
 them to go to the booksellers, and make the best bargain 
 they can.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, if a bookseller should 
 bring you a manuscript to look at?' JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 Sir, I would desire the bookseller to take it away.' 
 
 I mentioned a friend of mine who had resided long in 
 Spain, and was unwilling to return to Britain. JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, he is attached to some woman.' BOSWELL. 'I rather 
 believe, Sir, it is the fine climate which keeps him there.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, how can you talk so? What is 
 climate to happiness? Place me in the heart of Asia, should 
 I not be exiled? What proportion does climate bear to the 
 complex system of human life? You may advise me to go 
 to live at Bologna to eat sausages. The sausages there are 
 the best in the world; they lose much by being carried.' 
 
 On Saturday, May 9, Mr. Dempster and I had agreed to 
 dine by ourselves at the British Coffee-house. Johnson, 
 on whom I happened to call in the morning, said he would 
 join us, which he did, and we spent a very agreeable day, 
 though I recollect but little of what passed. 
 
 He said, 'Walpole was a minister given by the King to 
 the people: Pitt was a minister given by the people to the 
 King, as an adjunct.' 
 
 'The misfortune of Goldsmith in conversation is this: he 
 goes on without knowing how he is to get off. His genius 
 is great, but his knowledge is small. As they say of a gen- 
 erous man, it is a pity he is not rich, we may say of Gold- 
 smith, it is a pity he is not knowing. He would not keep his 
 knowledge to himself.'
 
 198 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 1773: JETA.T. 64,] IN 1773 his only publication was an 
 edition of his folio Dictionary, with additions and corrections ; 
 nor did he, so far as is known, furnish any productions of his 
 fertile pen to any of his numerous friends or dependants, 
 except the Preface to his old amanuensis Macbean's Dic- 
 tionary of Ancient Geography. 
 
 1 To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, ... A new edition of my great Dictionary 
 is printed, from a copy which I was persuaded to revise; 
 "but having made no preparation, I was able to do very 
 little. Some superfluities I have expunged, and some faults 
 I have corrected, and here and there have scattered a 
 remark; but the main fabrick of the work remains as it 
 was. I had looked very little into it since I wrote it, 
 and, I think, I found it full as often better, as worse, than I 
 expected. 
 
 'Baretti and Da vies have had a furious quarrel; a quarrel, 
 I think, irreconcileable. Dr. Goldsmith has a new comedy, 
 which is expected in the spring. No name is yet given it. 
 The chief diversion arises from a stratagem by which a lover 
 is made to mistake his future father-in-law's house for an 
 inn. This, you see, borders upon farce. The dialogue is 
 quick and gay, and the incidents are so prepared as not to seem 
 improbable. . . . 
 
 'My health seems in general to improve; but I have been 
 troubled for many weeks with a vexatious catarrh, which is 
 sometimes sufficiently distressful. I have not found any 
 great effects from bleeding and physick; and am afraid, 
 that I must expect help from brighter days and softer air. 
 
 'Write to me now and then; and whenever any good 
 befalls you, make haste to let me know it, for no one will 
 rejoice at it more than, dear Sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 'London, Feb. 24, 1773.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'You continue to stand very high in the favour of Mrs. 
 Thrale.' 
 
 While a former edition of my work was passing through 
 the press, I was unexpectedly favoured with a packet from
 
 1773] A PACKET FROM AMERICA 199 
 
 Philadelphia, from Mr. James Abercrombie, a gentleman of 
 that country, who is pleased to honour me with very high 
 praise of my Life of Dr. Johnson. To have the fame of my 
 illustrious friend, and his faithful biographer, echoed from 
 the New World is extremely flattering; and my grateful 
 acknowledgements shall be wafted across the Atlantick. 
 Mr. Abercrombie has politely conferred on me a considerable 
 additional obligation, by transmitting to me copies of two 
 letters from Dr. Johnson to American gentlemen. 
 
 On Saturday, April 3, the day after my arrival in London 
 this year, I went to his house late in the evening, and sat with 
 Mrs. Williams till he came home. I found in the London 
 Chronicle, Dr. Goldsmith's apology to the publick for beating 
 Evans, a bookseller, on account of a paragraph in a news- 
 paper published by him, which Goldsmith thought imper- 
 tinent to him and to a lady of his acquaintance. The apol- 
 ogy was written so much in Dr. Johnson's manner, that both 
 Mrs. Williams and I supposed it to be his; but when he 
 came home, he soon undeceived us. When he said to Mrs. 
 Williams, ' Well, Dr. Goldsmith's manifesto has got into your 
 paper;' I asked him if Dr. Goldsmith had written it, with 
 an air that made him see I suspected it was his, though sub- 
 scribed by Goldsmith. JOHNSON. 'Sir, Dr. Goldsmith 
 would no more have asked me to write such a thing as that 
 for him, than he would have asked me to feed him with a 
 spoon, or to do anything else that denoted his imbecility. 
 I as much believe that he wrote it, as if I had seen him do 
 it. Sir, had he shewn it to any one friend, he would not 
 have been allowed to publish it. He has, indeed, done it 
 very well; but it is a foolish thing well done. I suppose he 
 has been so much elated with the success of his new com- 
 edy, that he has thought every thing that concerned him 
 must be of importance to the publick.' BOSWELL. ' I fancy, 
 Sir, this is the first time that he has been engaged in such an 
 adventure.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I believe it is the first 
 time he has beat; he may have been beaten before. This, 
 Sir, is a new plume to him.' 
 
 At Mr. Thrale's, in the evening, he repeated his usual 
 paradoxical declamation against action in publick speaking.
 
 200 . LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 'Action can have no effect upon reasonable minds. It may 
 augment noise, but it never can enforce argument.' 
 
 Lord Chesterfield being mentioned, Johnson remarked, 
 that almost all of that celebrated nobleman's witty sayings 
 were puns. He, however, allowed the merit of good wit to 
 his Lordship's saying of Lord Tyrawley and himself, when 
 both very old and infirm: 'Tyrawley and I have been dead 
 these two years; but we don't choose to have it known.' 
 
 The conversation having turned on modern imitations of 
 ancient ballads, and some one having praised their sim- 
 plicity, he treated them with that ridicule which he always 
 displayed when that subject was mentioned. 
 
 He disapproved of introducing scripture phrases into 
 secular discourse. This seemed to me a question of some 
 difficulty. A scripture expression may be used, like a highly 
 classical phrase, to produce an instantaneous strong impres- 
 sion; and it may be done without being at all improper. 
 Yet I own there is danger, that applying the language of our 
 sacred book to ordinary subjects may tend to lessen our 
 reverence for it. If therefore it be introduced at all, it 
 should be with very great caution. 
 
 On Thursday, April 8, 1 sat a good part of the evening with 
 him, but he was very silent. 
 
 Though he was not disposed to talk, he was unwilling that 
 I should leave him; and when I looked at my watch, and 
 told him it was twelve o'clock, he cried, 'What's that to you 
 and me?' and ordered Frank to tell Mrs. Williams that we 
 were coming to drink tea with her, which we did. It was 
 settled that we should go to church together next day. 
 
 On the 9th of April, being Good Friday, I breakfasted with 
 him on tea and cross-buns; Doctor Levet, as Frank called 
 him, making the tea. He carried me with him to the church 
 of St. Clement Danes, where he had his seat; and his be- 
 haviour was, as I had imaged to myself, solemnly devout. 
 I never shall forget the tremulous earnestness with which 
 he pronounced the awful petition in the Litany: 'In the 
 hour of death, and at the day of judgement, good LORD 
 deliver us.' 
 
 We went to church both in the morning and evening. In
 
 17731 DINNER AT JOHNSON'S HOUSE 201 
 
 the interval between the two services we did not dine; but 
 he read in the Greek New Testament, and I turned over 
 several of his books. 
 
 I told him that Goldsmith had said to me a few days 
 before, 'As I take my shoes from the shoemaker, and my 
 coat from the taylor, so I take my religion from the priest.' 
 I regretted this loose way of talking. JOHNSON. 'Sir, he 
 knows nothing; he has made up his mind about nothing.' 
 
 To my great surprize he asked me to dine with him on 
 Easter-day. I never supposed that he had a dinner at his 
 house; for I had n'ot then heard of any one of his friends 
 having been entertained at his table. He told me, 'I gen- 
 erally have a meat pye on Sunday: it is baked at a publick 
 oven, which is very properly allowed, because one man can 
 attend it; and thus the advantage is obtained of not keep- 
 ing servants from church to dress dinners.' 
 
 April 11, being Easter-Sunday, after having attended 
 Divine Service at St. Paul's, I repaired to Dr. Johnson's. 
 I had gratified my curiosity much in dining with JEAN 
 JAQUES ROUSSEAU, while he lived in the wilds of Neuf chatel : 
 I had as great a curiosity to dine with DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON, 
 in the dusky recess of a court in Fleet-street. I supposed 
 we should scarcely have knives and forks, and only some 
 strange, uncouth, ill-drest dish: but I found every thing in 
 very good order. We had no other company but Mrs. 
 Williams and a young woman whom I did not know. As a 
 dinner here was considered as a singular phenomenon, and 
 as I was frequently interrogated on the subject, my readers 
 may perhaps be desirous to know our bill of fare. Foote, 
 I remember, in allusion to Francis, the negro, was willing 
 to suppose that our repast was black broth. But the fact was, 
 that we had a very good soup, a boiled leg of lamb and 
 spinach, a veal pye, and a rice pudding. 
 
 He owned that he thought Hawkesworth was one of his 
 imitators, but he did not think Goldsmith was. Goldsmith, 
 he said, had great merit. BOSWELL. ' But, Sir, he is much 
 indebted to you for his getting so high in the publick esti- 
 mation.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, he has perhaps got sooner 
 to it by his intimacy with me.'
 
 202 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 Goldsmith, though his vanity often excited him to occa- 
 sional competition, had a very high regard for Johnson, 
 which he at this time expressed in the strongest manner in 
 the Dedication of his comedy, entitled, She Stoops to Conquer. 
 
 He told me that he had twelve or fourteen times at- 
 tempted to keep a journal of his life, but never could per- 
 severe. He advised me to do it. 'The great thing to be 
 recorded, (said he,) is the state of your own mind; and you 
 should write down every thing that you remember, for you 
 cannot judge at first what is good or bad; and write immedi- 
 ately while the impression is fresh, for it will not be the same 
 a week afterwards.' 
 
 I again solicited him to communicate to me the particulars 
 of his early life. He said, 'You shall have them all for two- 
 pence. I hope you shall know a great deal more of me be- 
 fore you write my Life.' He mentioned to me this day 
 many circumstances, which I wrote down when I went home, 
 and have interwoven in the former part of this narrative. 
 
 On Tuesday, April 13, he and Dr. Goldsmith and I dined 
 at General Oglethorpe's. Goldsmith expatiated on the com- 
 mon topick, that the race of our people was degenerated, 
 and that this was owing to luxury. JOHNSON. 'Sir, in the 
 first place, I doubt the fact. I believe there are as many 
 tall men in England now, as ever there were. But, secondly, 
 supposing the stature of our people to be diminished, that is 
 not owing to luxury; for, Sir, consider to how very small 
 a proportion of our people luxury can reach. Our soldiery, 
 surely, are not luxurious, who live on sixpence a day; and 
 the same remark will apply to almost all the other classes. 
 Luxury, so far as it reaches the poor, will do good to the 
 race of people; it will strengthen and multiply them. Sir, 
 no nation was ever hurt by luxury; for, as I said before, it 
 can reach but to a very few. I admit that the great increase 
 of commerce and manufactures hurts the military spirit of 
 a people; because it produces a competition for something 
 else than martial honours, a competition for riches. It 
 also hurts the bodies of the people; for you will observe, 
 there is no man who works at any particular trade, but you 
 may know him from his appearance to do so. One part or
 
 1773] VALUE OF LEISURE 20S 
 
 other of his body being more used than the rest, he is in 
 some degree deformed: but, Sir, that is not luxury. A 
 tailor sits cross-legged ; but that is not luxury.' GOLDSMITH. 
 'Come, you're just going to the same place by another road.' 
 JOHNSON. ' Nay, Sir, I say that is not luxury. Let us take 
 a walk from Charing-cross to White-chapel, through, I sup- 
 pose, the greatest series of shops in the world; what is there 
 in any of these shops (if you except gin-shops,) that can do 
 any human being any harm?' GOLDSMITH. 'Well, Sir, I'll 
 accept your challenge. The very next shop to Northumber- 
 land-house is a pickle-shop.' JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir: do we 
 not know that a maid can in one afternoon make pickles 
 sufficient to serve a whole family for a year? nay, that five 
 pickle-shops can serve all the kingdom? Besides, Sir, there 
 is no harm done to any body by the making of pickles, or 
 the eating of pickles.' 
 
 We drank tea with the ladies; and Goldsmith sung Tony 
 Lumpkin's song in his comedy, She Stoops to Conquer, and 
 a very pretty one, to an Irish tune, which he had designed 
 for Miss Hardcastle; but as Mrs. Bulkeley, who played the 
 part, could not sing, it was left out. He afterwards wrote 
 it down for me, by which means it was preserved, and now 
 appears amongst his poems. Dr. Johnson, in his way home, 
 stopped at my lodgings in Piccadilly, and sat with me, 
 drinking tea a second time, till a late hour. 
 
 I told him that Mrs. Macaulay said, she wondered how he 
 could reconcile his political principles with his moral; his 
 notions of inequality and subordination with wishing well to 
 the happiness of all mankind, who might live so agreeably, 
 had they all their portions of land, and none to domineer 
 over another. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I reconcile my prin- 
 ciples very well, because mankind are happier in a state of 
 inequality and subordination. Were they to be in this, 
 pretty state of equality, they would soon degenerate into 
 brutes; they would become Monboddo's nation; their 
 tails would grow. Sir, all would be losers were all to work, 
 for all: they would have no intellectual improvement. All 
 intellectual improvement arises from leisure; all leisure 
 arises from one working for another.'
 
 204 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 Talking of the family of Stuart, he said, 'It should seem 
 that the family at present on the throne has now established 
 as good a right as the former family, by the long consent of 
 the people; and that to disturb this right might be con- 
 sidered as culpable. At the same time I own, that it is a very 
 difficult question, when considered with respect to the house 
 of Stuart. To oblige people to take oaths as to the disputed 
 right, is wrong. I know not whether I could take them: 
 but I do not blame those who do.' So conscientious and so 
 delicate was he upon this subject, which has occasioned so 
 much clamour against him. 
 
 On Thursday, April 15, I dined with him and Dr. Gold- 
 smith at General Paoli's. 
 
 I spoke of Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, in the Scottish 
 dialect, as the best pastoral that had ever been written; not 
 only abounding with beautiful rural imagery, and just and 
 pleasing sentiments, but being a real picture of manners; 
 and I offered to teach Dr. Johnson to understand it. 'No, 
 Sir, (said he,) I won't learn it. You shall retain your superi- 
 ority by my not knowing it.' 
 
 It having been observed that there was little hospitality in 
 London; JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, any man who has a name, 
 or who has the power of pleasing, will be very generally 
 invited in London. The man, Sterne, I have been told, 
 has had engagements for three months.' GOLDSMITH. 'And 
 a very dull fellow.' JOHNSON. 'Why, no, Sir.' 
 
 Martinelli told us, that for several years he lived much 
 with Charles Townshend, and that he ventured to tell him 
 he was a bad joker. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, thus much I can 
 say upon the subject. One day he and a few more agreed 
 to go and dine in the country, and each of them was to 
 bring a friend in his carriage with him. Charles Townshend 
 asked Fitzherbert to go with him, but told him, "You must 
 find somebody to bring you back: I can only carry you 
 there." Fitzherbert did not much like this arrangement. 
 He however consented, observing sarcastically, "It will do 
 very well; for then the same jokes will serve you in return- 
 ing as in going." ' 
 
 An eminent publick character being mentioned; JOHN-
 
 1773] ON REVOLUTIONS JO- 
 
 SON. ' I remember being present when he shewed himself to 
 be so corrupted, or at least something so different from what 
 I think right, as to maintain, that a member of parliament 
 should go along with his party right or wrong. Now, Sir, 
 this is so remote from native virtue, from scholastick virtue, 
 that a good man must have undergone a great change before 
 he can reconcile himself to such a doctrine. It is maintaining 
 that you may Lie to the publick; for you lie when you call 
 that right which you think wrong, or the reverse. A friend 
 of ours, who is too much an echo of that gentleman, observed, 
 that a man who does not stick uniformly to a party, is only 
 waiting to be bought. Why then, said I, he is only waiting 
 to be what that gentleman is already.' 
 
 We talked of the King's coming to see Goldsmith's new 
 play. 'I wish he would,' said Goldsmith; adding, however, 
 with an affected indifference, 'Not that it would do me the 
 least good.' JOHNSON. 'Well then, Sir, let us say it would 
 do him good, (laughing.) No, Sir, this affectation will not 
 pass; it is mighty idle. In such a state as ours, who would 
 not wish to please the Chief Magistrate?' GOLDSMITH. 'I 
 do wish to please him. I remember a line in Dryden, 
 
 "And every poet is the monarch's friend." 
 
 It ought to be reversed.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, there are finer 
 lines in Dryden on this subject: 
 
 " For colleges on bounteous Kings depend, 
 And never rebel was to arts a friend.'" 
 
 General Paoli observed, that 'successful rebels might.' 
 MARTINELLI. 'Happy rebellions.' GOLDSMITH. 'We have 
 no such phrase.' GENERAL PAOLI. 'But have you not the 
 thing f GOLDSMITH. 'Yes; all our happy revolutions. 
 They have hurt our constitution, and will hurt it, till we 
 mend it by another HAPPY REVOLUTION.' I never before 
 discovered that my friend Goldsmith had so much of the old 
 prejudice in him. 
 
 General Paoli, talking of Goldsmith's new play, said, ' II
 
 206 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 a fait un compliment tres gracieux a une certaine grande dame ; ' 
 meaning a Duchess of the first rank. 
 
 I expressed a doubt whether Goldsmith intended it, in 
 order that I might hear the truth from himself. It, perhaps, 
 was not quite fair to endeavour to bring him to a confession, 
 as he might not wish to avow positively his taking part 
 against the Court. He smiled and hesitated. The General 
 at once relieved him, by this beautiful image: 'Monsieur 
 Goldsmith est comme la mer, qui jetle des perles et beaucoup 
 d'auires belles choses, sans s'en appercevoir.' GOLDSMITH. 
 ' Tres bien dit et tres elegamment.' 
 
 A person was mentioned, who it was said could take down 
 in short hand the speeches in parliament with perfect exact- 
 ness. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is impossible. I remember one, 
 Angel, who came to me to write for him a Preface or Dedica- 
 tion to a book upon short hand, and he professed to write as 
 fast as a man could speak. In order to try him, I took down 
 a book, and read while he wrote; and I favoured him, for 
 I read more deliberately than usual. I had proceeded but 
 a very little way, when he begged I would desist, for he could 
 not follow me.' Hearing now for the first time of this Pref- 
 ace or Dedication, I said, 'What an expense, Sir, do you put 
 us to in buying books, to which you have written Prefaces or 
 Dedications.' JOHNSON. 'Why, I have dedicated to the 
 Royal family all round; that is to say, to the last generation 
 of the Royal family.' GOLDSMITH. 'And perhaps, Sir, not 
 one sentence of wit in a whole Dedication.' JOHNSON. 
 'Perhaps not, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'What then is the reason 
 for applying to a particular person to do that which any 
 one may do as well?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, one man has 
 greater readiness at doing it than another.' 
 
 I spoke of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, as being a very learned 
 man, and in particular an eminent Grecian. JOHNSON. 
 'I am not sure of that. His friends give him out as such, but 
 I know not who of his friends are able to judge of it.' GOLD- 
 SMITH. 'He is what is much better: he is a worthy humane 
 man.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, that is not to the purpose of 
 our argument : that will as much prove that he can play upon 
 the fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Gre-
 
 1773] A PRINTER'S COACH 207 
 
 cian.' GOLDSMITH. 'The greatest musical performers have 
 but small emoluments. Giardini, I am told, does not get 
 above seven hundred a year.' JOHNSON. 'That is indeed 
 but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many 
 endeavour to do. There is nothing, I think, in which the 
 power of art is shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. 
 In all other things we can do something at first. Any man 
 will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer; not so 
 well as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of 
 wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him 
 a fiddle and a fiddle-stick, and he can do nothing.' 
 
 On Monday, April 19, he called on me with Mrs. Williams, 
 in Mf. Strahan's coach, and carried me out to dine with Mr. 
 Elphinston, at his academy at Kensington. A printer having 
 acquired a fortune sufficient to keep his coach, was a good 
 topick for the credit of literature. Mrs. Williams said, that 
 another printer, Mr. Hamilton, had not waited so long as 
 Mr. Strahan, but had kept his coach several years sooner. 
 JOHNSON. 'He was in the right. Life is short. The sooner 
 that a man begins to enjoy his wealth the better.' 
 
 Mr. Elphinston talked of a new book that was much ad- 
 mired, and asked Dr. Johnson if he had read it. JOHNSON. 
 'I have looked into it.' 'What, (said Elphinston,) have you 
 not read it through?' Johnson, offended at being thus- 
 pressed, and so obliged to own his cursory mode of reading, 
 answered tartly, ' No, Sir, do you read books through f ' 
 
 On Wednesday, April 21, 1 dined with him at Mr. Thrale's. 
 A gentleman attacked Garrick for being vain. JOHNSON. 
 ' No wonder, Sir, that he is vain ; a man who is perpetually 
 flattered in every mode that can be conceived. So many 
 bellows have blown the fire, that one wonders he is not by 
 this time become a cinder.' BOSWELL. 'And such bellows 
 too. Lord Mansfield with his cheeks like to burst: Lord 
 Chatham like an A'olus. I have read such notes from them 
 to him, as were enough to turn his head.' JOHNSON. "True. 
 When he whom every body else flatters, flatters me, I then 
 am truly happy.' MRS. THRALE. 'The sentiment is in 
 Congreve, I think.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Madam, in The Way 
 of the World :
 
 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 "If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see 
 That heart which others bleed for, bleed for me." 
 
 No, Sir, I should not be surprized though Garrick chained 
 the ocean, and lashed the winds.' BOSWELL. 'Should it 
 not be, Sir, lashed the ocean and chained the winds ? ' JOHN- 
 SON. ' No, Sir, recollect the original : 
 
 "In Corum atque Eurum solitus soevire flagellis 
 Barbaras, Molio nunquam hoc in carcere passos, 
 Ipsum compedibus qui vinxerat Ennosigceum." ' 
 
 The modes of living in different countries, and the various 
 views with which men travel in quest of new scenes, having 
 been talked of, a learned gentleman who holds a considerable 
 office in the law, expatiated on the happiness of a savage 
 life; and mentioned an instance of an officer who had actu- 
 ally lived for some time in the wilds of America, of whom, 
 when in that state, he quoted this reflection with an air of 
 admiration, as if it had been deeply philosophical: 'Here 
 am I, free and unrestrained, amidst the rude magnificence of 
 Nature, with this Indian woman by my side, and this gun 
 with which I can procure food when I want it; what more 
 can be desired for human happiness?' It did not require 
 much sagacity to foresee that such a sentiment would not 
 be permitted to pass without due animadversion. JOHNSON. 
 'Do not allow yourself, Sir, to be imposed upon by such 
 gross absurdity. It is sad stuff; it is brutish. If a bull 
 could speak, he might as well exclaim, Here am I with this 
 cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?' 
 
 We talked of the melancholy end of a gentleman who had 
 destroyed himself. JOHNSON. ' It was owing to imaginary 
 difficulties in his affairs, which, had he talked with any friend, 
 would soon have vanished.' BOSWELL. 'Do you think, Sir, 
 that all who commit suicide are mad?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 they are often not universally disordered in their intellects, 
 but one passion presses so upon them, that they yield to it, 
 and commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another/ 
 He added, ' I have often thought, that after a man has taken 
 the resolution to kill himself, it is not courage in him to do
 
 1773] SUICIDE 209 
 
 any thing, however desperate, because he has nothing to 
 fear.' GOLDSMITH. 'I don't see that.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 but my dear Sir, why should not you see what every one 
 else sees ? ' GOLDSMITH. ' It is for fear of something that he 
 has resolved to kill himself; and will not that timid disposi- 
 tion restrain him?' JOHNSON. 'It does not signify that 
 the fear of something made him resolve; it is upon the 
 state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, that I argue. 
 Suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or 
 whatever motive, has resolved to kill himself; when once 
 the resolution is taken, he has nothing to fear. He may 
 then go and take the King of Prussia by the nose, at the head 
 of his army. He cannot fear the rack, who is resolved to 
 kill himself. When Eustace Budgel was walking down to 
 the Thames, determined to drown himself, he might, if he 
 pleased, without any apprehension of danger, have turned 
 aside, and first set fire to St. James's palace.' 
 
 On Tuesday, April 27, Mr. Beauclerk and I called on him 
 in the morning. As we walked up Johnson 's-court, I said, 
 'I have a veneration for this court;' and was glad to find 
 that Beauclerk had the same reverential enthusiasm. We 
 found him alone. We talked of Mr. Andrew Stuart's elegant 
 and plausible Letters to Lord Mansfield: a copy of which 
 had been sent by the authour to Dr. Johnson. JOHNSON. 
 "They have not answered the end. They have not been 
 talked of; I have never heard of them. This is owing to 
 their not being sold. People seldom read a book which is 
 given to them; and few are given. The way to spread a 
 work is to sell it at a low price. No man will send to buy a 
 thing that costs even sixpence, without an intention to read 
 it.' 
 
 He said, 'Goldsmith should not be for ever attempting 
 to shine in conversation: he has not temper for it, he is so 
 much mortified when he fails. Sir, a game of jokes is com- 
 posed partly of skill, partly of chance, a man may be beat 
 at times by one who has not the tenth part of his wit. Now 
 Goldsmith's putting himself against another, is like a man 
 laying a hundred to one who cannot spare the hundred. It 
 is not worth a man's while. A man should not lay a hun-
 
 210 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 dred to one, unless he can easily spare it, though he has a 
 hundred chances for him: he can get but a guinea, and he 
 may lose a hundred. Goldsmith is in this state. When he 
 contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addition to 
 a, man of his literary reputation: if he does not get the 
 better, he is miserably vexed,' 
 
 Johnson's own superlative powers of wit set him above 
 any risk of such uneasiness. Garrick had remarked to me 
 of him, a few days before, 'Rabelais and all other wits are 
 nothing compared with him. You may be diverted by 
 them; but Johnson gives you a forcible hug, and shakes 
 laughter out of you, whether you will or no/ 
 
 Goldsmith, however, was often very fortunate in his witty 
 contests, even when he entered the lists with Johnson him- 
 .self. Sir Joshua Reynolds was in company with them one 
 day, when Goldsmith said, that he thought he could write 
 a good fable, mentioned the simplicity which that kind of 
 composition requires, and observed, that in most fables the 
 .animals introduced seldom talk in character. ' For instance, 
 (said he,) the fable of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over 
 their heads, and envying them, petitioned Jupiter to be 
 changed into birds. The skill (continued he,) consists in 
 making them talk like little fishes.' While he indulged him- 
 self in this fanciful reverie, he observed Johnson shaking his 
 sides, and laughing. Upon which he smartly proceeded, 
 'Why, Dr. Johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think; 
 for if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like 
 WHALES.' 
 
 On Thursday, April 29, I dined with him at General Ogle- 
 thorpe's, where were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Dr. 
 Goldsmith, and Mr. Thrale. I was very desirous to get Dr. 
 Johnson absolutely fixed in his resolution to go with me to 
 the Hebrides this year; and I told him that I had received 
 a letter from Dr. Robertson the historian, upon the subject, 
 with which he was much pleased; and now talked in such 
 a manner of his long-intended tour, that I was satisfied he 
 meant to fulfil his engagement. 
 
 The character of Mallet having been introduced, and 
 spoken of slightingly by Goldsmith; JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir,
 
 17731 PLAYWRIGHTS AND PLAYERS 211 
 
 Mallet had talents enough to keep his literary reputation 
 alive as long as he himself lived; and that, let me tell you, 
 is a good deal.' GOLDSMITH. 'But I cannot agree that it 
 was so. His literary reputation was dead long before his 
 natural death. I consider an authour's literary reputation 
 to be alive only while his name will ensure a good price for 
 his copy from the booksellers. I will get you (to Johnson,) 
 a hundred guineas for any thing whatever that you shall 
 write, if you put your name to it.' 
 
 Dr. Goldsmith's new play, She Stoops to Conquer, being 
 mentioned; JOHNSON. 'I know of no comedy for many 
 years that has so much exhilarated an audience, that has 
 answered so much the great end of comedy making an 
 audience merry.' 
 
 Goldsmith having said, that Garrick's compliment to the 
 Queen, which he introduced into the play of The Chances, 
 which he had altered and revised this year, was mean and 
 gross flattery; JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I would not write, I 
 would not give solemnly under my hand, a character beyond 
 what I thought really true; but a speech on the stage, let 
 it flatter ever so extravagantly, is formular. It has always 
 been formular to flatter Kings and Queens; so much so, 
 that even in our church-service we have "our most religious 
 King," used indiscriminately, whoever is King. Nay, they 
 even flatter themselves; "we have been graciously pleased 
 to grant." No modern flattery, however, is so gross as that 
 of the Augustan age, where the Emperour was deified. 
 "Prcesens Divus habebitur Augustus." And as to meanness, 
 (rising into warmth,) how is it mean in a player, a show- 
 man, a fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling, to flatter 
 his Queen? The attempt, indeed, was dangerous; for if it 
 had missed, what became of Garrick, and what became of 
 the Queen? As Sir William Temple says of a great General, 
 it is necessary not only that his designs be formed in a mas- 
 terly manner, but that they should be attended with success. 
 Sir, it is right, at a time when the Royal Family is not gen- 
 erally liked, to let it be seen that the people like at least 
 one of them.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'I do not perceive 
 why the profession of a player should be despised; for the
 
 212 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 great and ultimate end of all the employments of mankind 
 is to produce amusement. Garrick produces more amuse- 
 ment than any body.' BOSWELL. 'You say, Dr. Johnson, 
 that Garrick exhibits himself for a shilling. In this respect 
 he is only on a footing with a lawyer who exhibits himself 
 for his fee, and even will maintain any nonsense or absurdity, 
 if the case requires it. Garrick refuses a play or a part 
 which he does not like; a lawyer never refuses.' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, what does this prove? only that a lawyer is worse. 
 Boswell is now like Jack in The Tale of a Tub, who, when he 
 is puzzled by an argument, hangs himself. He thinks I 
 shall cut him down, but I'll let him hang.' (laughing vocifer- 
 ously.) SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'Mr. Boswell thinks that 
 the profession of a lawyer being unquestionably honourable, 
 if he can show the profession of a player to be more honour- 
 able, he proves his argument.' 
 
 On Friday, April 30, I dined with him at Mr. Beauclerk's, 
 where were Lord Charlemont, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and 
 some more members of the LITERARY CLUB, whom he had 
 obligingly invited to meet me, as I was this evening to be 
 balloted for as candidate for admission into that distin- 
 guished society. Johnson had done me the honour to pro- 
 pose me, and Beauclerk was very zealous for me. 
 
 Goldsmith being mentioned; JOHNSON. 'It is amazing how 
 little Goldsmith knows. He seldom comes where he is not 
 more ignorant than any one else.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 'Yet there is no man whose company is more liked.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'To be sure, Sir. When people find a man of the 
 most distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferiour while 
 he is with them, it must be highly gratifying to them. What 
 Goldsmith comically says of himself is very true, he always 
 gets the better when he argues alone; meaning, that he is 
 master of a subject in his study, and can write well upon it; 
 but when he comes into company, grows confused, and un- 
 able to talk. Take him as a poet, his Traveller is a very fine 
 performance; ay, and so is his Deserted Village, were it not 
 sometimes too much the echo of his Traveller. Whether, 
 indeed, we take him as a poet, as a comick writer, or as 
 an historian, he stands in the first class.' BOSWELL. 'An
 
 17731 GOLDSMITH AS HISTORIAN 213 
 
 historian ! My dear Sir, you surely will not rank his com- 
 pilation of the Roman History with the works of other his- 
 torians of this age ?' JOHNSON. 'Why, who are before him?' 
 BOSWELL. 'Hume, Robertson, Lord Lyttelton.' JOHN- 
 SON (his antipathy to the Scotch beginning to rise). 'I have 
 not read Hume; but, doubtless, Goldsmith's History is better 
 than the verbiage of Robertson, or the foppery of Dalrymple.' 
 BOSWELL. 'Will you not admit the superiority of Robert- 
 son, in whose History we find such penetration such paint- 
 ing?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you must consider how that pene- 
 tration and that painting are employed. It is not history, 
 it is imagination. He who describes what he never saw, 
 draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as Sir Joshua 
 paints faces in a history-piece: he imagines an heroic coun- 
 tenance. You must look upon Robertson's work as romance, 
 and try it by that standard. History it is not. Besides, Sir, 
 it is the great excellence of a writer to put into his book as 
 much as his book will hold. Goldsmith has done this in his 
 History. Now Robertson might have put twice as much into 
 his book. Robertson is like a man who has packed gold in 
 wool: the wool takes up more room than the gold. No, 
 Sir; I always thought Robertson would be crushed by his 
 own weight, would be buried under his own ornaments. 
 Goldsmith tells you shortly all you want to know: Robert- 
 son detains you a great deal too long. No man will read 
 Robertson's cumbrous detail a second time; but Goldsmith's 
 plain narrative will please again and again. I would say to 
 Robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his 
 pupils: "Read over your compositions, and where ever you 
 meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, 
 strike it out." Goldsmith's abridgement is better than that 
 of Lucius Florus or Eutropius; and I will venture to say, 
 that if you compare him with Vertot, in the same places 
 of the Roman History, you will find that he excels Vertot. 
 Sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying every thing 
 he has to say in a pleasing manner. He is now writing a 
 Natural History and will make it as entertaining as a Persian 
 Tale.' 
 I cannot dismiss the present topick without observing,
 
 214 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 that it is probable that Dr. Johnson, who owned that he often 
 'talked for victory/ rather urged plausible objections to Dr. 
 Robertson's excellent historical works, in the ardour of con- 
 test, than expressed his real and decided opinion; for it is 
 not easy to suppose, that he should so widely differ from 
 the rest of the literary world. 
 
 JOHNSON. 'I remember once being with Goldsmith in 
 Westminster-abbey. While we surveyed the Poets' Corner, 
 I said to him, 
 
 "Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis." 
 
 when we got to Temple-bar he stopped me, pointed to the 
 heads upon it, and slily whispered me, 
 
 "Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur isns. 1 '" 
 
 Johnson praised John Bunyan highly. 'His Pilgrim's 
 Progress has great merit, both for invention, imagination, 
 and the conduct of the story; and it has had the best evi- 
 dence of its merit, the general and continued approbation of 
 mankind. Few books, I believe, have had a more extensive 
 sale. It is remarkable, that it begins very much like the 
 poem of Dante; yet there was no translation of Dante when 
 Bunyan wrote. There is reason to think that he had read 
 Spenser.' 
 
 A proposition which had been agitated, that monuments 
 to eminent persons should, for the time to come, be erected 
 in St. Paul's church as well as in Westminster-abbey, was 
 mentioned; and it was asked, who should be honoured by 
 having his monument first erected there. Somebody sug- 
 gested Pope. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, as Pope was a Roman 
 Catholick, I would not have his to be first. I think Milton's 
 rather should have the precedence. I think more highly 
 of him now than I did at twenty. There is more thinking 
 in him and in Butler, than in any of our poets.' 
 
 The gentlemen went away to their club, and I was left 
 
 1 In allusion to Dr. Johnson's supposed political principles, and per- 
 haps his own. BOSWELL.
 
 1773] BOSWELL'S ELECTION TO THE CLUB 215 
 
 at Beauclerk's till the fate of my election should be an- 
 nounced to me. I sat in a state of anxiety which even the 
 charming conversation of Lady Di Beauclerk could not 
 entirely dissipate.. In a short time I received the agreeable 
 intelligence that I was chosen. I hastened to the place of 
 meeting, and was introduced to such a society as can seldom 
 be found. Mr. Edmund Burke, whom I then saw for the 
 first time, and whose splendid talents had long made me 
 ardently wish for his acquaintance; Dr. Nugent, Mr. Gar- 
 rick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Jones, 
 and the company with whom I had dined. Upon my en- 
 trance, Johnson placed himself behind a chair, on which he 
 leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with humorous formality 
 gave me a Charge, pointing out the conduct expected from 
 me as a good member of this club. 
 
 Goldsmith produced some very absurd verses which had 
 been publickly recited to an audience for money. JOHNSON. 
 'I can match this nonsense. There was a poem called 
 Eugenia, which came out some years ago, and concludes thus: 
 
 "And now, ye trifling, self -assuming elves, 
 Brimful of pride, of nothing, of yourselves, 
 Survey Eugenio, view him o'er and o'er, 
 Then sink into yourselves, and be no more." 
 
 Nay, Dryden in his poem on the Royal Society, has these 
 lines: 
 
 "Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, 
 
 And see the ocean leaning on the sky; 
 From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, 
 And on the lunar world securely pry-'" 
 
 Much pleasant conversation passed, which Johnson rel- 
 ished with great good humour. But his conversation alone, 
 or what led to it, or was interwoven with it, is the business 
 of this work. 
 
 On Saturday, May 1, we dined by ourselves at our old 
 rendezvous, the Mitre tavern. He was placid, but not much 
 disposed to talk. He observed that 'The Irish mix better
 
 216 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 with the English than the Scotch do; their language is nearer 
 to English; as a proof of which, they succeed very well as 
 players, which Scotchmen do not. Then, Sir, they have not 
 that extreme nationality which we find in the Scotch. I 
 will do you, Boswell, the justice to say, that you are the most 
 unscottified of your countrymen. You are almost the only 
 instance of a Scotchman that I have known, who did not at 
 every other sentence bring in some other Scotchman.' 
 
 On Friday, May 7, I breakfasted with him at Mr. Thrale's 
 in the Borough. While we were alone, I endeavoured as 
 well as I could to apologise for a lady who had been divorced 
 from her husband by act of Parliament. I said, that he 
 had used her very ill, had behaved brutally to her, and that 
 she could not continue to live with him without having her 
 delicacy contaminated; that all affection for him was thus 
 destroyed; that the essence of conjugal union being gone, 
 there remained only a cold form, a mere civil obligation; 
 that she was in the prime of life, with qualities to produce 
 happiness; that these ought not to be lost; and, that the 
 gentleman on whose account she was divorced had gained 
 her heart while thus unhappily situated. Seduced, perhaps, 
 by the charms of the lady in question, I thus attempted 
 to palliate what I was sensible could not be justified; for 
 when I had finished my harangue, my venerable friend gave 
 me a proper check: 'My dear Sir, never accustom your 
 mind to mingle virtue and vice. The woman's a whore, 
 and there's an end on't.' 
 
 He described the father of one of his friends thus : ' Sir, 
 he was so exuberant a talker at publick meeting, that the 
 gentlemen of his county were afraid of him. No business 
 could be done for his declamation.' 
 
 He did not give me full credit when I mentioned that I 
 had carried on a short conversation by signs with some 
 Esquimaux who were then in London, particularly with one 
 of them who was a priest. He thought I could not make 
 them understand me. No man was more incredulous as to 
 particular facts, which were at all extraordinary; and there- 
 fore no man was more scrupulously inquisitive, in order to 
 discover the truth.
 
 1773] DINNER AT MESSIEURS DILLY'S 217 
 
 I dined with him this day at the house of my friends, 
 Messieurs Edward and Charles Dilly, booksellers in the 
 Poultry: there were present, their elder brother Mr. Dilly 
 of Bedfordshire, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Langton, Mr. Claxton,. 
 Reverend Dr. Mayo a dissenting minister, the Reverend Mr. 
 Toplady, and my friend the Reverend Mr. Temple. 
 
 BOSWELL. ' I am well assured that the people of Otaheite 
 who have the bread tree, the fruit of which serves them for 
 bread, laughed heartily when they were informed of the 
 tedious process necessary with us to have bread ; plowing, 
 sowing, harrowing, reaping, threshing, grinding, baking.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, all ignorant savages will laugh when 
 they are told of the advantages of civilized life. Were you 
 to tell men who live without houses, how we pile brick upon 
 brick, and rafter upon rafter, and that after a house is raised 
 to a certain height, a man tumbles off a scaffold, and breaks 
 his neck; he would laugh heartily at our folly in building; 
 but it does not follow that men are better without houses. 
 No, Sir, (holding up a slice of a good loaf,) this is better than 
 the bread tree.' 
 
 I introduced the subject of toleration. JOHNSON. 'Every 
 society has a right to preserve publick peace and order, and 
 therefore has a good right to prohibit the propagation of 
 opinions which have a dangerous tendency. To say the 
 magistrate has this right, is using an inadequate word: it is 
 the society for which the magistrate is agent. He may be 
 morally or theologically wrong in restraining the propaga- 
 tion of opinions which he thinks dangerous, but he is politi- 
 cally right.' MAYO. 'I am of opinion, Sir, that every man 
 is entitled to liberty of conscience in religion; and that the 
 magistrate cannot restrain that right.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 I agree with you. Every man has a right to liberty of con- 
 science, and with that the magistrate cannot interfere. 
 People confound liberty of thinking with liberty of talking; 
 nay, with liberty of preaching. Every man has a physical 
 right to think as he pleases; for it cannot be discovered how 
 he thinks. He has not a moral right, for he ought to inform 
 himself, and think justly. But, Sir, no member of a society 
 has a right to teach any doctrine contrary to what the society
 
 218 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 holds to be true. The magistrate, I say, may be wrong in 
 what he thinks: but while he thinks himself right, he may 
 and ought to enforce what he thinks.' MAYO. 'Then, Sir, 
 we are to remain always in errour, and truth never can pre- 
 vail; and the magistrate was right in persecuting the first 
 Christians.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, the only method by which re- 
 ligious truth can be established is by martyrdom. The 
 magistrate has a right to enforce what he thinks; and he 
 who is conscious of the truth has a right to suffer. I am 
 afraid there is no other way of ascertaining the truth, but by 
 persecution on the one hand and enduring it on the other.' 
 GOLDSMITH. ' But how is a man to act, Sir? Though firmly 
 convinced of the truth of his doctrine, may he not think it 
 wrong to expose himself to persecution? Has he a right to 
 do so ? Is it not, as it were, committing voluntary suicide ? ' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, as to voluntary suicide, as you call it, there 
 are twenty thousand men in an army who will go without 
 scruple to be shot at, and mount a breach for five-pence a 
 day.' GOLDSMITH. 'But have they a moral right to do 
 this?' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, if you will not take the uni- 
 versal opinion of mankind, I have nothing to say. If mankind 
 cannot defend their own way of thinking, I cannot defend 
 it. Sir, if a man is in doubt whether it would be better for 
 him to expose himself to martyrdom or not, he should not 
 do it. He must be convinced that he has a delegation from 
 heaven.' GOLDSMITH. 'I would consider whether there is 
 the greater chance of good or evil upon the whole. If I see 
 a man who had fallen into a well, I would wish to help him 
 out; but if there is a greater probability that he shall pull 
 me in, than that I shall pull him out, I would not attempt 
 it. So were I to go to Turkey, I might wish to convert the 
 Grand Signer to the Christian faith; but when I considered 
 that I should probably be put to death without effectuating 
 my purpose in any degree, I should keep myself quiet.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, you must consider that we have perfect and 
 imperfect obligations. Perfect obligations, which are gen- 
 erally not to do something, are clear and positive; as, "thou 
 shalt not kill." But charity, for instance, is not definable 
 by limits. It is a duty to give to the poor; but no man can
 
 1773] A DISCUSSION OF TOLERATION 219 
 
 say how much another should give to the poor, or when a 
 man has given too little to save his soul. In the same man- 
 ner it is a duty to instruct the ignorant, and of consequence 
 to convert infidels to Christianity; but no man in the com- 
 mon course of things is obliged to carry this to such a degree 
 as to incur the danger of martyrdom, as no man is obliged 
 to strip himself to the shirt in order to give charity. I have 
 said, that a man must be persuaded that he has a particular 
 delegation from heaven.' GOLDSMITH. 'How is this to be 
 known? Our first reformers, who were burnt for not be- 
 lieving bread and wine to be CHRIST ' JOHNSON, (interrupting 
 him,) 'Sir, they were not burnt for not believing bread and 
 wine to be CHRIST, but for insulting those who did believe it. 
 And, Sir, when the first reformers began, they did not in- 
 tend to be martyred: as many of them ran away as could.' 
 BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, there was your countryman, Elwal, 
 who you told me challenged King George with his black- 
 guards, and his red-guards.' JOHNSON. 'My countryman, 
 Elwal, Sir, should have been put in the stocks; a proper 
 pulpit for him; and he'd have had a numerous audience. 
 A man who preaches in the stocks will always have hearers 
 enough.' BOSWELL. 'But Elwal thought himself in the 
 right.' JOHNSON. 'We are not providing for mad people; 
 there are places for them in the neighbourhood.' (meaning 
 Moorfields.) MAYO. 'But, Sir, is it not very hard that I 
 should not be allowed to teach my children what I really 
 believe to be the truth ? ' JOHNSON. ' Why, Sir, you might 
 contrive to teach your children extrb scandalum; but, Sir, 
 the magistrate, if he knows it, has a right to restrain you. 
 Suppose you teach your children to be thieves?' MAYO. 
 'This is making a joke of the subject.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 Sir, take it thus: that you teach them the community of 
 goods; for which there are as many plausible arguments 
 as for most erroneous doctrines. You teach them that 
 all things at first were in common, and that no man had a 
 right to any thing but as he laid his hands upon it ; and that 
 this still is, or ought to be, the rule amongst mankind. 
 Here, Sir, you sap a great principle in society, property. 
 And don't you think the magistrate would have a right to
 
 220 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 prevent you? Or, suppose you should teach your children 
 the notion of the Adamites, and they should run naked into 
 the streets, would not the magistrate have a right to flog 
 'em into their doublets?' MAYO. 'I think the magistrate 
 has no right to interfere till there is some overt act.' BOS- 
 WELL. ' So, Sir, though he sees an enemy to the state charg- 
 ing a blunderbuss, he is not to interfere till it is fired off?' 
 MAYO. 'He must be sure of its direction against the state.' 
 JOHNSON. 'The magistrate is to judge of that. He has no 
 right to restrain your thinking, because the evil centers in 
 yourself. If a man were sitting at this table, and chopping 
 off his fingers, the magistrate, as guardian of the community, 
 has no authority to restrain him, however he might do it 
 from kindness as a parent. Though, indeed, upon more con- 
 sideration, I think he may; as it is probable, that he who is 
 chopping off his own fingers, may soon proceed to chop off 
 those of other people. If I think it right to steal Mr. Dilly's 
 plate, I am a bad man; but he can say nothing to me. If I 
 make an open declaration that I think so, he will keep me 
 out of his house. If I put forth my hand, I shall be sent to 
 Newgate. This is the gradation of thinking, preaching, and 
 acting: if a man thinks erroneously, he may keep his thoughts 
 to himself, and nobody will trouble him; if he preaches 
 erroneous doctrine, society may expel him; if he acts in con- 
 sequence of it, the law takes place, and he is hanged.' MAYO. 
 ' But, Sir, ought not Christians to have liberty of conscience ? ' 
 JOHNSON. 'I have already told you so, Sir. You are 
 coming back to where you were.' BOSWELL. 'Dr. Mayo 
 is always taking a return post-chaise, and going the stage 
 over again. He has it at half price.' JOHNSON. 'Dr. 
 Mayo, like other champions for unlimited toleration, has 
 got a set of words. Sir, it is no matter, politically, whether 
 the magistrate be right or wrong. Suppose a club were to 
 be formed, to drink confusion to King George the Third, 
 and a happy restoration to Charles the Third, this would be 
 very bad with respect to the State; but every member of 
 that club must either conform to its rules, or be turned out 
 of it. Old Baxter, I remember, maintains, that the magis- 
 trate should "tolerate all things that are tolerable." This is
 
 1773] GOLDSMITH'S WISH TO SHINE 221 
 
 no good definition of toleration upon any principle; but it 
 shews that he thought some things were not tolerable.' 
 TOPLADY. 'Sir, you have untwisted this difficult subject 
 with great dexterity.' 
 
 During this argument, Goldsmith sat in restless agitation r 
 from a wish to get in and shine. Finding himself excluded > 
 he had taken his hat to go away, but remained for some time 
 with it in his hand, like a gamester, who at the close of a 
 long night, lingers for a little while, to see if he can have a 
 favourable opening to finish with success. Once when he 
 was beginning to speak, he found himself overpowered by 
 the loud voice of Johnson, who was at the opposite end of the 
 table, and did not perceive Goldsmith's attempt. Thus dis- 
 appointed of his wish to obtain the attention of the com- 
 pany, Goldsmith in a passion threw down his hat, looking 
 angrily at Johnson, and exclaiming in a bitter tone, 'Take 
 it.' When Toplady was going to speak, Johnson uttered 
 some sound, which led Goldsmith to think that he was be- 
 ginning again, and taking the words from Toplady. Upon 
 which, he seized this opportunity of venting his own envy 
 and spleen, under the pretext of supporting aaother person: 
 'Sir, (said he to Johnson,) the gentleman has heard you 
 patiently for an hour; pray allow us now to hear him.' JOHN- 
 SON, (sternly,) 'Sir, I was not interrupting the gentleman. 
 I was only giving him a signal of my attention. Sir, you are 
 impertinent.' Goldsmith made no reply, but continued in 
 the company for some time. 
 
 A gentleman present ventured to ask Dr. Johnson if there 
 was not a material difference as to toleration of opinions 
 which lead to action, and opinions merely speculative; for 
 instance, would it be wrong in the magistrate to tolerate 
 those who preach against the doctrine of the TRINITY? 
 Johnson was highly offended, and said, 'I wonder, Sir, how 
 a gentleman of your piety can introduce this subject in a 
 mixed company.' He told me afterwards, that the impro- 
 priety was, that perhaps some of the company might have 
 talked on the subject in such terms as might have shocked 
 him; or he might have been forced to appear in their eyes 
 a narrow-minded man. The gentleman, with submissive
 
 222 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 deference, said, he had only hinted at the question from a 
 desire to hear Dr. Johnson's opinion upon it. JOHNSON. 
 'Why then, Sir, I think that permitting men to preach any 
 opinion contrary to the doctrine of the established church 
 tends, in a certain degree, to lessen the authority of the 
 church, and consequently, to lessen the influence of religion.' 
 'It may be considered, (said the gentleman,) whether it 
 would not be politick to tolerate in such a case.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, we have been talking of right: this is another question. 
 I think it is not politick to tolerate in such a case.' 
 
 BOSWELL. 'Pray, Mr. Dilly, how does Dr. Leland's His- 
 tory of Ireland sell? ' JOHNSON, (bursting forth with a gener- 
 ous indignation,) 'The Irish are in a most unnatural state; 
 for we see there the minority prevailing over the majority. 
 There is no instance, even in the ten persecutions, of such 
 severity as that which the protestants of Ireland have exer- 
 cised against the Catholicks. Did we tell them we have con- 
 quered them, it would be above board: to punish them by 
 confiscation and other penalties, as rebels, was monstrous 
 injustice. King William was not their lawful sovereign: he 
 had not been acknowledged by the Parliament of Ireland, 
 when they appeared in arms against him.' 
 
 He and Mr. Langton and I went together to THE CLUB, 
 where we found Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, and some other 
 members, and amongst them our friend Goldsmith, who sat 
 silently brooding over Johnson's reprimand to him after 
 dinner. Johnson perceived this, and said aside to some of 
 us, 'I'll make Goldsmith forgive me;' and then called to him 
 in a loud voice, 'Dr. Goldsmith, something passed to-day 
 where you and I dined; I ask your pardon.' Goldsmith 
 answered placidly, 'It must be much from you, Sir, that 
 I take ill.' And so at once the difference was over, and 
 they were on as easy terms as ever, and Goldsmith rattled 
 away as usual. 
 
 In our way to the club to-night, when I regretted that 
 Goldsmith would, upon every occasion, endeavour to shine, 
 by which he often exposed himself, Mr. Langton observed, 
 that he was not like Addison, who was content with the 
 fame of his writings, and did not aim also at excellency in
 
 1773] GOLDSMITH'S VANITY 223 
 
 conversation, for which he found himself unfit; and that he 
 said to a lady who complained of his having talked little in 
 company, 'Madam, I have but ninepence in ready money, 
 but I can draw for a thousand pounds.' I observed, that 
 Goldsmith had a great deal of gold in his cabinet, but, not 
 content with that, was always taking out his purse. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Yes, Sir, and that so often an empty purse!' 
 
 Goldsmith's incessant desire of being conspicuous in com- 
 pany, was the occasion of his sometimes appearing to such 
 disadvantage as one should hardly have supposed possible 
 in a man of his genius. When his literary reputation had 
 risen deservedly high, and his society was much courted, he 
 became very jealous of the extraordinary attention which 
 was every where paid to Johnson. One evening, in a circle 
 of wits, he found fault with me for talking of Johnson as 
 entitled to the honour of unquestionable superiority. 'Sir, 
 (said he,) you are for making a monarchy of what should be 
 a republick.' 
 
 He was still more mortified, when talking in a company 
 with fluent vivacity, and, as he flattered himself, to the 
 admiration of all who were present; a German who sat next 
 him, and perceived Johnson rolling himself, as if about to 
 speak, suddenly stopped him, saying, 'Stay, stay, Toctor 
 Shonson is going to say something.' This was, no doubt, 
 very provoking, especially to one so irritable as Goldsmith, 
 who frequently mentioned it with strong expressions of 
 indignation. 
 
 It may also be observed, that Goldsmith was sometimes 
 content to be treated with an easy familiarity, but, upon 
 occasions, would be consequential and important. An in- 
 stance of this occurred in a small particular. Johnson had 
 a way of contracting the names of his friends; as Beauclerk, 
 Beau; Boswell, Bozzy; Langton, Lanky; Murphy, Mur; 
 Sheridan, Sherry. I remember one day, when Tom Da vies 
 was telling that Dr. Johnson said, 'We are all in labour for 
 a name to Goldy's play,' Goldsmith seemed displeased that 
 such a liberty should be taken with his name, and said, 'I 
 have often desired him not to call me Goldy.' Tom was re- 
 markably attentive to the most minute circumstance about
 
 224 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 Johnson. I recollect his telling me once, on my arrival in 
 London, 'Sir, our great friend has made an improvement on 
 his appellation of old Mr. Sheridan. He calls him now 
 Sherry derry.' 
 
 On Monday, May 9, as I was to set out on my return to 
 Scotland next morning, I was desirous to see as much of Dr. 
 Johnson as I could. But I first called on Goldsmith to take 
 leave of him. The jealousy and envy which, though pos- 
 sessed of many most amiable qualities, he frankly avowed, 
 broke out violently at this interview. Upon another occa- 
 sion, when Goldsmith confessed himself to be of an envious 
 disposition, I contended with Johnson that we ought not to 
 be angry with him, he was so candid in owning it. 'Nay, 
 Sir, (said Johnson,) we must be angry that a man has such 
 a superabundance of an odious quality, that he cannot keep 
 it within his own breast, but it boils over.' In my opinion, 
 however, Goldsmith had not more of it than other people 
 have, but only talked of it freely. 
 
 He now seemed very angry that Johnson was going to be 
 a traveller; said 'he would be a dead weight for me to carry, 
 and that I should never be able to lug him along through 
 the Highlands and Hebrides.' Nor would he patiently allow 
 me to enlarge upon Johnson's wonderful abilities; but ex- 
 claimed, 'Is he like Burke, who winds into a subject like 
 a serpent?' 'But, (said I,) Johnson is the Hercules who 
 strangled serpents in his cradle.' 
 
 I dined with Dr. Johnson at General Paoli's. He was 
 obliged, by indisposition, to leave the company early; he 
 appointed me, however, to meet him in the evening at Mr. 
 (now Sir Robert) Chambers's in the Temple, where he ac- 
 cordingly came, though he continued to be very ill. Cham- 
 bers, as is common on such occasions, prescribed various 
 remedies to him. JOHNSON, (fretted by pain,) 'Pr'ythee 
 don't tease me. Stay till I am well, and then you shall tell 
 me how to cure myself.' He grew better, and talked with 
 a noble enthusiasm of keeping up the representation of re- 
 spectable families. His zeal on this subject was a circum- 
 stance in his character exceedingly remarkable, when it is 
 considered that he himself had no pretensions to blood. I
 
 1773] JOHNSON EXCEEDINGLY DIVERTED 225 
 
 heard him once say, ' I have great merit in being zealous for 
 subordination and the honours of birth; for I can hardly tell 
 who was my grandfather.' He maintained the dignity and 
 propriety of male succession, in opposition to the opinion of 
 one of our friends, who had that day employed Mr. Cham- 
 bers to draw his will, devising his estate to his three sisters, 
 in preference to a remote heir male. Johnson called them 
 'three dowdies,' and said, with as high a spirit as the boldest 
 Baron in the most perfect days of the feudal system, 'An 
 ancient estate should always go to males. It is mighty 
 foolish to let a stranger have it because he marries your 
 daughter, and takes your name. As for an estate newly 
 acquired by trade, you may give it, if you will, to the dog 
 Towser, and let him keep his aim name.' 
 
 I have known him at times exceedingly diverted at what 
 seemed to others a very small sport. He now laughed im- 
 moderately, without any reason that we could perceive, at 
 our friend's making his will; called him the testator, and 
 added, 'I dare say, he thinks he has done a mighty thing. 
 He won't stay till he gets home to his seat in the country, to 
 produce this wonderful deed: he'll call up the landlord of 
 the first inn on the road; and, after a suitable preface upon 
 mortality and the uncertainty of life, will tell him that he 
 should not delay making his will; and here, Sir, will he say, 
 is my will, which I have just made, with the assistance of one 
 of the ablest lawyers in the kingdom; and he will read it to 
 him (laughing all the time). He believes he has made this 
 will; but he did not make it: you, Chambers, made it for 
 him. I trust you have had more conscience than to make 
 him say, "being of sound understanding;" ha, ha, ha! I 
 hope he has left me a legacy. I'd have his will turned into 
 verse, like a ballad.' 
 
 Mr. Chambers did not by any means relish this jocularity 
 upon a matter of which pars magna fuU, and seemed impa- 
 tient till he got rid of us. Johnson could not stop his merri- 
 ment, but continued it all the way till we got without the 
 Temple-gate. He then burst into such a fit of laughter, that 
 he appeared to be almost in a convulsion; and, in order to 
 support himself, laid hold of one of the posts at the side of
 
 226 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 the foot pavement, and sent forth peals so loud, that in the 
 silence of the night his voice seemed to resound from Temple- 
 bar to Fleet-ditch. 
 
 This most ludicrous exhibition of the aweful, melancholy, 
 and venerable Johnson, happened well to counteract the 
 feelings of sadness which I used to experience when parting 
 with him for a considerable time. I accompanied him to his 
 door, where he gave me his blessing. 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I shall set out from London on Friday the 
 sixth of this month, and purpose not to loiter much by the 
 way. Which day I shall be at Edinburgh, I cannot exactly 
 tell. I suppose I must drive to an inn, and send a porter to 
 find you. 
 
 ' I am afraid Beattie will not be at his College soon enough 
 for us, and I shall be sorry to miss him; but there is no 
 staying for the concurrence of all conveniences. We will do 
 as well as we can. I am, Sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 'August 3, 1773.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'Newcastle, Aug. 11, 1773. 
 
 ' DEAR SIR, I came hither last night, and hope, but do not 
 absolutely promise, to be in Edinburgh on Saturday. Beattie 
 will not come so soon. I am, Sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 'My compliments to your lady.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 'Mr. Johnson sends his compliments to Mr. Boswell, being 
 just arrived at Boyd's. Saturday night.' 
 
 His stay in Scotland was from the 18th of August, on 
 which day he arrived, till the 22nd of November, when he 
 set out on his return to London; and I believe ninety-four
 
 1774] MISCELLANEOUS AND FUGITIVE PIECES 227 
 
 days were never passed by any man in a more vigorous 
 exertion. 1 
 
 His humane forgiving disposition was put to a pretty 
 strong test on his return to London, by a liberty which Mr. 
 Thomas Davies had taken with him in his absence, which 
 was, to publish two volumes, entitled, Miscellaneous and 
 fugitive Pieces, which he advertised in the news-papers, 'By 
 the Authour of the Rambler.' In this collection, several of 
 Dr. Johnson's acknowledged writings, several of his anony- 
 mous performances, and some which he had written for 
 others, were inserted; but there were also some in which he 
 had no concern whatever. He was at first very angry, as he 
 had good reason to be. But, upon consideration of his poor 
 friend's narrow circumstances, and that he had only a little 
 profit in view, and meant no harm, he soon relented, and 
 continued his kindness to him as formerly. 
 
 In the course of his self-examination with retrospect to 
 this year, he seems to have been much dejected; for he says, 
 January 1, 1774, 'This year has passed with so little im- 
 provement, that I doubt whether I have not rather impaired 
 than increased my learning'; and yet we have seen how 
 he read, and we know how he talked during that period. 
 
 He was now seriously engaged in writing an account of our 
 travels in the Hebrides, in consequence of which I had the 
 pleasure of a more frequent correspondence with him. 
 
 'To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR 
 SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, You have reason to reproach me that I have 
 left your last letter so long unanswered, but I had nothing 
 particular to say. Chambers, you find, is gone far, and 
 
 1 In his Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, published the year after 
 Johnson died, Boswell gives a detailed account of Johnson's conversa- 
 tion and adventures with him throughout the journey of 1773. Partly 
 owing to their uninterrupted association, partly to the strangeness and 
 variation of background and circumstances, and partly to Boswell's 
 larger leisure during the tour for the elaboration of his account, the 
 journal is even more racy, picturesque, and interesting than any equal 
 part of the Life. No reader who enjoys the Life should fail to read the 
 Tour unabridged ! ED.
 
 228 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 poor Goldsmith is gone much further. He died of a fever, 
 exasperated, as I believe, by the fear of distress. He had 
 raised money and squandered it, by every artifice of acquisi- 
 tion, and folly of expence. But let not his frailties be re- 
 membered; he was a very great man. 
 
 'I have just begun to print my Journey to the Hebrides, 
 and am leaving the press to take another journey into Wales, 
 whither Mr. Thrale is going, to take possession of, at least, 
 five hundred a year, fallen to his lady. All at Streatham, 
 that are alive, are well. 
 
 ' I have never recovered from the last dreadful illness, but 
 flatter myself that I grow gradually better; much, however, 
 yet remains to mend. Kupts eXs-qaov. 
 
 ' If you have the Latin version of Busy, curious, thirsty fly, 
 be so kind as to transcribe and send it; but you need not be 
 in haste, for I shall be I know not where, for at least five 
 weeks. I wrote the following tetastrick on poor Goldsmith : 
 
 Tbv T(4<|>ov etoopia? Tbv 'OXt^dtpoio. XOV(Y)V 
 
 CH 
 
 KXafeie iroiTjT^jv, laTOptxbv, 
 
 'Please to make my most respectful compliments to all 
 the ladies, and remember me to young George and his sisters. 
 I reckon George begins to shew a pair of heels. 
 
 'Do not be sullen now, but let me find a letter when I 
 come back. I am, dear Sir, your affectionate, humble 
 servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'July 5, 1774.' 
 
 In his manuscript diary of this year, there is the following 
 entry : 
 
 'Nov. 27. Advent Sunday. I considered that this day, 
 being the beginning of the ecclesiastical year, was a proper 
 time for a new course of life. I began to read the Greek 
 Testament regularly at 160 verses every Sunday. This day 
 I began the Acts. 
 
 ' In this week I read Virgil's Pastorals. I learned to repeat 
 the Pollio and Gallus. I read carelessly the first Georgick.'
 
 1775] BOSWELL TO JOHNSON 229 
 
 Such evidences of his unceasing ardour, both for 'divine 
 and human lore,' when advanced into his sixty-fifth year, 
 and notwithstanding his many disturbances from disease, 
 must make us at once honour his spirit, and lament that it 
 should be so grievously clogged by its material tegument. 
 
 1775: JSTAT. 66.] 
 
 'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 'Edinburgh, Feb. 2, 1775: 
 
 '. . . As to Macpherson, 1 1 am anxious to have from your- 
 self a full and pointed account of what has passed between 
 you and him. It is confidently told here, that before your 
 book came out he sent to you, to let you know that he un- 
 derstood you meant to deny the authenticity of Ossian's 
 poems; that the originals were in his possession; that you 
 might have inspection of them, and might take the evidence 
 of people skilled in the Erse language; and that he hoped, 
 after this fair offer, you would not be so uncandid as to assert 
 that he had refused reasonable proof. That you paid no 
 regard to his message, but published your strong attack 
 upon him; and then he wrote a letter to you, in such terms 
 as he thought suited to one who had -not acted as a man of 
 veracity.' . . . 
 
 What words were used by Mr. Macpherson in his letter to 
 the venerable Sage, I have never heard; but they are gener- 
 ally said to have been of a nature very different from the 
 language of literary contest. Dr. Johnson's answer ap- 
 peared in the news-papers of the day, and has since been 
 frequently re-published; but not with perfect accuracy. I 
 give it as dictated to me by himself, written down in his 
 presence, and authenticated by a note in his own hand- 
 writing, ' This, I think, is a true copy. 1 
 
 'MR. JAMES MACPHERSON, I received your foolish and 
 impudent letter. Any violence offered me I shall do my best 
 to repel; and what I cannot do for myself, the law shall do 
 
 i Sec above, p. 96.
 
 230 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 for me. I hope I shall never be deterred from detecting 
 what I think a cheat, by the menaces of a ruffian. 
 
 'What would you have me retract? I thought your book 
 an imposture; I think it an imposture still. For this opin- 
 ion I have given my reasons to the publick, which I here 
 dare you to refute. Your rage I defy. Your abilities, since 
 your Homer, are not so formidable; and what I hear of 
 your morals, inclines me to pay regard not to what you shall 
 say, but to what you shall prove. You may print this if 
 you will.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 Mr. Macpherson little knew the character of Dr. Johnson, 
 if he supposed that he could be easily intimidated; for no 
 man was ever more remarkable for personal courage. He 
 had, indeed, an aweful dread of death, or rather, 'of some- 
 thing after death;' and what rational man, who seriously 
 thinks of quitting all that he has ever known, and going 
 into a new and unknown state of being, can be without that 
 dread ? But his fear was from reflection ; his courage natural. 
 His fear, in that one instance, was the result of philosophical 
 and religious consideration. He feared death, but he feared 
 nothing else, not even what might occasion death. Many 
 instances of his resolution may be mentioned. One day, at 
 Mr. Beauclerk's house in the country, when two large dogs 
 were fighting, he went up to them, and beat them till they 
 separated; and at another time, when told of the danger 
 there was that a gun might burst if charged with many balls, 
 he put in six or seven, and fired it off against a wall. Mr. 
 Langton told me, that when they were swimming together 
 near Oxford, he cautioned Dr. Johnson against a pool, which 
 was reckoned particularly dangerous; upon which Johnson 
 directly swam into it. He told me himself that one night he 
 was attacked in the street by four men, to whom he would 
 not yield, but kept them all at bay, till the watch came up, 
 and carried both him and them to the round-house. In the 
 playhouse at Lichfield, as Mr. Garrick informed me, John- 
 son having for a moment quitted a chair which was placed 
 for him between the side-scenes, a gentleman took possession 
 of it, and when Johnson on his return civilly demanded his
 
 1775] HIS FEARLESSNESS 231 
 
 seat, rudely refused to give it up; upon which Johnson laid 
 hold of it, and tossed him and the chair into the pit. Foote, 
 who so successfully revived the old comedy, by exhibiting 
 living characters, had resolved to imitate Johnson on the 
 stage, expecting great profits from his ridicule of so cele- 
 brated a man. Johnson being informed of his intention, and 
 being at dinner at Mr. Thomas Davies's the bookseller, from 
 whom I had the story, he asked Mr. Davies 'what was the 
 common price of an oak stick;' and being answered six- 
 pence, ' Why then, Sir, (said he,) give me leave to send your 
 servant to purchase me a shilling one. I'll have a double 
 quantity; for I am told Foote means to take me off, as he 
 calls it, and I am determined the fellow shall not do it with 
 impunity.' Davies took care to acquaint Foote of this, which 
 effectually checked the wantonness of the mimick. Mr. 
 Macpherson's menaces made Johnson provide himself with 
 the same implement of defence; and had he been attacked, 
 I have no doubt that, old as he was, he would have made 
 his corporal prowess be felt as much as his intellectual. 
 
 His Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland is a most 
 valuable performance. Johnson's grateful acknowledge- 
 ments of kindnesses received in the course of this tour, com- 
 pletely refute the brutal reflections which have been thrown 
 out against him, as if he had made an ungrateful return; 
 and his delicacy in sparing in his book those who we find 
 from his letters to Mrs. Thrale were just objects of censure, 
 is much to be admired. His candour and amiable disposi- 
 tion is conspicuous from his conduct, when informed by Mr. 
 Macleod, of Rasay, that he had committed a mistake, which 
 gave that gentleman some uneasiness. He wrote him a 
 courteous and kind letter, and inserted in the news-papers 
 an advertisement, correcting the mistake. 
 
 As to his prejudice against the Scotch, which I always 
 ascribed to that nationality which he observed in them, he 
 said to the same gentleman, 'When I find a Scotchman, to 
 whom an Englishman is as a Scotchman, that Scotchman 
 shall be as an Englishman to me.' His intimacy with many 
 gentlemen of Scotland, and his employing so many natives 
 of that country as his amanuenses, prove that his prejudice
 
 232 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 was not virulent; and I have deposited in the British Mu- 
 seum, amongst other pieces of his writing, the following note 
 in answer to one from me, asking if he would meet me at 
 dinner at the Mitre, though a friend of mine, a Scotchman, 
 was to be there: 
 
 'Mr. Johnson does not see why Mr. Boswell should sup- 
 pose a Scotchman less acceptable than any other man. He 
 will be at the Mitre.' 
 
 My much-valued friend Dr. Barnard, now Bishop of Kil- 
 laloe, having once expressed to him an apprehension, that if 
 he should visit Ireland he might treat the people of that 
 country more unfavourably than he had done the Scotch, he 
 answered, with strong pointed double-edged wit, 'Sir, you 
 have no reason to be afraid of me. The Irish are not in a 
 conspiracy to cheat the world by false representations of 
 the merits of their countrymen. No, Sir; the Irish are a 
 FAIR PEOPLE; they never speak well of one another.' 
 
 All the miserable cavillings against his Journey, in news- 
 papers, magazines, and other fugitive publications, I can 
 speak from certain knowledge, only furnished him with 
 sport. At last there came out a scurrilous volume, larger 
 than Johnson's own, filled with malignant abuse, under a 
 name, real or fictitious, of some low man in an obscure 
 corner of Scotland, though supposed to be the work of an- 
 other Scotchman, who has found means to make himself 
 well known both in Scotland and England. The effect 
 which it had upon Johnson was, to produce this pleasant 
 observation to Mr. Seward, to whom he lent the book: 
 'This fellow must be a blockhead. They don't know how 
 to go about their abuse. Who will read a five-shilling book 
 against me? No, Sir, if they had wit, they should have kept 
 pelting me with pamphlets.' 
 
 On Tuesday, March 21, I arrived in London; and on re- 
 pairing to Dr. Johnson's before dinner, found him in his 
 study, sitting with Mr. Peter Garrick, the elder brother of 
 David, strongly resembling him in countenance and voice, 
 but of more sedate and placid manners. Johnson informed 
 me, that 'though Mr. Beauclerk was in great pain, it was 
 hoped he was not in danger, and that he now wished to COD-
 
 1775] TAXATION NO TYRANNY 233 
 
 suit Dr. Heberden to try the effect of a new understanding.' 
 Both at this interview, and in the evening at Mr. Thrale's, 
 where he and Mr. Peter Garrick and I met again, he was 
 vehement on the subject of the Ossian controversy; ob- 
 serving, 'We do not know that there are any ancient Erse 
 manuscripts; and we have no other reason to disbelieve 
 that there are men with three heads, but that we do not 
 know that there are any such men.' He also was outrageous, 
 upon his supposition that my countrymen 'loved Scotland 
 better than truth,' saying, 'All of them, nay not all, but 
 droves of them, would come up, and Attest any thing for the 
 honour of Scotland.' He also persevered in his wild allega- 
 tion, that he questioned if there was a tree between Edin- 
 burgh and the English border older than himself. I assured 
 him he was mistaken, and suggested that the proper punish- 
 ment would be that he should receive a stripe at every tree 
 above a hundred years old, that was found within that space. 
 He laughed, and said, 'I believe I might submit to it for a 
 baubee!' 
 
 The doubts which, in my correspondence with him, I had 
 ventured to state as to the justice and wisdom of the con- 
 duct of Great-Britain towards the American colonies, while 
 I at the same time requested that he would enable me to 
 inform myself upon that momentous subject, he had alto- 
 gether disregarded; and had recently published a pamphlet, 
 entitled, Taxation no Tyranny; an answer to the Resolutions 
 and Address of the American Congress. 
 
 He had long before indulged most unfavourable senti- 
 ments of our fellow-subjects in America. For, as early as 
 1769, I was told by Dr. John Campbell, that he had said of 
 them, 'Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be 
 thankful for any thing we allow them short of hanging.' 
 
 Of this performance I avoided to talk with him; for I had 
 now formed a clear and settled opinion, that the people of 
 America were well warranted to resist a claim that their 
 fellow-subjects in the mother-country should have the en- 
 tire command of their fortunes, by taxing them without their 
 own consent; and the extreme violence which it breathed, 
 appeared to me so unsuitable to the mildness of a Christian
 
 234 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 philosopher, and so directly opposite to the principles of 
 peace which he had so beautifully recommended in his pam- 
 phlet respecting Falkland's Islands, that I was sorry to see 
 him appear in so unfavourable a light. 
 
 On Friday, March 24, I met him at the LITERARY CLUB, 
 where were Mr. Beauclerk, Mr. Langton, Mr. Colman, Dr. 
 Percy, Mr. Vesey, Sir Charles Bunbury, Dr. George Fordyce, 
 Mr. Steevens, and Mr. Charles Fox. Before he came in, 
 we talked of his Journey to the Western Islands, and of his 
 coming away 'willing to believe the second sight,' which 
 seemed to excite some ridicule. I was then so impressed 
 with the truth of many of the stories of it which I had been 
 told, that I avowed my conviction, saying, 'He is only willing 
 to believe: I do believe. The evidence is enough for me, 
 though not for his great mind. What will not fill a quart 
 bottle will fill a pint bottle. I am filled with belief.' 'Are 
 you? (said Colman,) then cork it up.' 
 
 I found his Journey the common topick of conversation in 
 London at this time, wherever I happened to be. At one 
 of Lord Mansfield's formal Sunday evening conversations, 
 strangely called Levees, his Lordship addressed me, 'We 
 have all been reading your travels, Mr. Boswell.' I an- 
 swered, 'I was but the humble attendant of Dr. Johnson.' 
 The Chief Justice replied, with that air and manner which 
 none, who ever saw and heard him, can forget, 'He speaks 
 ill of nobody but Ossian.' 
 
 Johnson was in high spirits this evening at the club, and 
 talked with great animation and success. He attacked 
 Swift, as he used to do upon all occasions. The Tale of a 
 Tub is so much superiour to his other writings, that one can 
 hardly believe he was the authour of it: 'there is in it such 
 a vigour of mind, such a swarm of thoughts, so much of 
 nature, and art, and life.' I wondered to hear him say of 
 Gulliver's Travels, 'When once you have thought of big men 
 and little men, it is very easy to do all the rest.' I en- 
 deavoured to make a stand for Swift, and tried to rouse those 
 who were much more able to defend him; but in vain. 
 Johnson at last, of his own accord, allowed very great merit 
 to the inventory of 'articles found in the pocket of the Man
 
 1775] HOME'S GOLD MEDAL 235 
 
 Mountain, particularly the description of his watch, which 
 it was conjectured was his GOD, as he consulted it upon all 
 occasions. He observed, that 'Swift put his name to but 
 two things, (after he had a name to put,) The Plan for the 
 Improvement of the English Language, and the last Drapier's 
 Letter.' 
 
 From Swift, there was an easy transition to Mr. Thomas 
 Sheridan. JOHNSON. 'Sheridan is a wonderful admirer of 
 the tragedy of Douglas, and presented its authour with a gold 
 medal. Some years ago, at a coffee-house in Oxford, I called 
 to him, "Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Sheridan, how came you to give 
 a gold medal to Home, for writing that foolish play?" This, 
 you see, was wanton and insolent; but I meant to be wanton 
 and insolent. A rnedal has no value but as a stamp of 
 merit. And was Sheridan to assume to himself the right of 
 giving that stamp? If Sheridan was magnificent enough to 
 bestow a gold medal as an honorary reward of dramatick 
 excellence, he should have requested one of the Universities 
 to choose the person on whom it should be conferred. Sheri- 
 dan had no right to give a stamp of merit: it was counter- 
 feiting Apollo's coin.' 
 
 On Monday, March 27, I breakfasted with him at Mr. 
 Strahan's. He told us, that he was engaged to go that 
 evening to Mrs. Abington's benefit. ' She was visiting some 
 ladies whom I was visiting, and begged that I would come 
 to her benefit. I told her I could not hear: but she insisted 
 so much on my coming, that it would have been brutal to 
 have refused her.' This was a speech quite characteristical. 
 He loved to bring forward his having been in the gay circles 
 of life; and he was, perhaps, a little vain of the solicitations 
 of this elegant and fashionable actress. He told us, the 
 play was to be the The Hypocrite, altered from Gibber's Non- 
 juror, so as to satirize the Methodists. ' I do not think (said 
 he,) the character of The Hypocrite justly applicable to the 
 Methodists, but it was very applicable to the Nonjurors.' 
 
 Mr. Strahan had taken a poor boy from the country as 
 an apprentice, upon Johnson's recommendation. Johnson 
 having enquired after him, said, 'Mr. Strahan, let me have 
 five guineas on account, and I'll give this boy one. Nay,
 
 236 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 if a man recommends a boy, and does nothing for him, it is 
 sad work. Call him down.' 
 
 I followed him into the court-yard, behind Mr. Strahan's 
 house; and there I had a proof of what I had heard him 
 profess, that he talked alike to all. 'Some people tell you 
 that they let themselves down to the capacity of their hear- 
 ers. I never do that. I speak uniformly, in as intelligible 
 a manner as I can.' 
 
 'Well, my boy, how do you go on?' 'Pretty well, Sir; 
 but they are afraid I an't strong enough for some parts of the 
 business.' JOHNSON. 'Why, I shall be sorry for it; for 
 when you consider with how little mental power and cor- 
 poreal labour a printer can get a guinea a week, it is a very 
 desirable occupation for you. Do you hear, take all the 
 pains you can; and if this does not do, we must think of 
 some other way of life for you. There's a guinea.' 
 
 Here was one of the many, many instances of his active 
 benevolence. At the same time, the slow and sonorous so- 
 lemnity with which, while he bent himself down, he ad- 
 dressed a little thick short-legged boy, contrasted with the 
 boy's aukwardness and awe, could not but excite some 
 ludicrous emotions. 
 
 I met him at Drury-lane play-house in the evening. Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, at Mrs. Abington's request, had promised 
 to bring a body of wits to her benefit; and having secured 
 forty places in the front boxes, had done me the honour to 
 put me in the group. Johnson sat on the seat directly be- 
 hind me; and as he could neither see nor hear at such a dis- 
 tance from the stage, he was wrapped up in grave abstraction, 
 and seemed quite a cloud, amidst all the sunshine of glitter 
 and gaiety. I wondered at his patience in sitting out a play 
 of five acts, and a farce of two. He said very little; but 
 after the prologue to Bon Ton had been spoken, which he 
 could hear pretty well from the more slow and distinct utter- 
 ance, he talked of prologue-writing, and observed, 'Dryden 
 has written prologues superiour to any that David Garrick 
 has written; but David Garrick has written more good pro- 
 logues than Dryden has done. It is wonderful that he has 
 been able to write such variety of them.'
 
 1775] GARRICK IMITATES JOHNSON 237 
 
 At Mr. Beauclerk's, where I supped, was Mr. Garrick, 
 whom I made happy with Johnson's praise of his prologues; 
 and I suppose, in gratitude to him, he took up one of his 
 favourite topicks, the nationality of the Scotch, which he 
 maintained in a pleasant manner, with the aid of a little 
 poetical fiction. 'Come, come, don't deny it: they are 
 really national. Why, now, the Adams are as liberal-minded 
 men as any in the world: but, I don't know how it is, all 
 their workmen are Scotch. You are, to be sure, wonder- 
 fully free from that nationality: but so it happens, that you 
 employ the only Scotch shoe-black in London.' He imi- 
 tated the manner of his old master with ludicrous exaggera- 
 tion; repeating, with pauses and half-whistlings interjected, 
 
 'Os homini sublime dedit, ccdumque tueri 
 Jussit, et erectos ad sidera tottere vullus'; 
 
 looking downwards all the time, and, while pronouncing the 
 four last words, absolutely touching the ground with a kind 
 of contorted gesticulation. 
 
 Garrick, however, when he pleased, could imitate Johnson 
 very exactly; for that great actor, with his distinguished 
 powers of expression which were so universally admired, 
 possessed also an admirable talent of mimickry. He was 
 always jealous that Johnson spoke lightly of him. I recol- 
 lect his exhibiting him to me one day, as if saying, 'Davy 
 has some convivial pleasantry about him, but 'tis a futile 
 fellow;' which he uttered perfectly with the tone and air of 
 Johnson. ... 
 
 I cannot too frequently request of my readers, while they 
 peruse my account of Johnson's conversation, to endeavour 
 to keep in mind his deliberate and strong utterance. His 
 mode of speaking was indeed very impressive; and I wish 
 it could be preserved as mu.sick is written, according to the 
 very ingenious method of Mr. Steele, who has shewn how 
 the recitation of Mr. Garrick, and other eminent speakers, 
 might be transmitted to posterity in score. 
 
 Next day I dined with Johnson at Mr. Thrale's. He at- 
 tacked Gray, calling him 'a dull fellow.' BOSWELL. 'I
 
 238 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 understand he was reserved, and might appear dull in com- 
 pany; but surely he was not dull in poetry.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, he was dull in company, dull in his closet, dull every 
 where. He was dull in a new way, and that made many 
 people think him GREAT. He was a mechanical poet.' He 
 then repeated some ludicrous lines, which have escaped my 
 memory, and said, ' Is not that GREAT, like his Odes ? ' Mrs. 
 Thrale maintained that his Odes were melodious; upon 
 which he exclaimed, 
 
 'Weave the warp, and weave the woof;' 
 I added, in a solemn tone, 
 
 ' The winding-sheet of Edward's race.' 
 
 'There is a good line.' 'Ay, (said he,) and the next line is 
 a good one/ (pronouncing it contemptuously;) 
 
 'Give ample verge and room enough.' 
 
 'No, Sir, there are but two good stanzas in Gray's poetry, 
 which are in his Elegy in a Country Church-yard.' He then 
 repeated the stanza, 
 
 'For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,' &c. 
 
 mistaking one word; for instead of precincts he said confines. 
 He added, 'The other stanza I forget.' 
 
 A young lady who had married a man much her inferiour 
 in rank being mentioned, a question arose how a woman's 
 relations should behave to her in such a situation; and, 
 while I recapitulate the debate, and recollect what has since 
 happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy 
 forbids me to express. While I contended that she ought to 
 be treated with an inflexible steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. 
 Thrale was all for mildness and forgiveness, and, according 
 to the vulgar phrase, 'making the best of a bad bargain/ 
 JOHNSON. 'Madam, we must distinguish. Were I a man 
 of rank, I would not let a daughter starve who had made
 
 17751 JOHNSON AND THE SEVILLE ORANGES 239 
 
 a mean marriage; but having voluntarily degraded herself 
 from the station which she was originally entitled to hold, 
 I would support her only in that which she herself had 
 chosen; and would not put her on a level with my other 
 daughters. You are to consider, Madam, that it is our duty 
 to maintain the subordination of civilized society; and when 
 there is a gross and shameful deviation from rank, it should 
 be punished so as to deter others from the same perversion.' 
 
 On Friday, March 31, I supped with him and some friends 
 at a tavern. One of the company 1 attempted, with too much 
 forwardness, to rally him on his late appearance at the 
 theatre; but had reason to repent of his temerity. 'Why, 
 Sir, did you go to Mrs. Abington's benefit? Did you see?' 
 JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' 'Did you hear?' JOHNSON. 'No, 
 Sir.' 'Why then, Sir, did you go?' JOHNSON. 'Because, 
 Sir, she is a favourite of the publick; and when the publick 
 cares the thousandth part for you that it does for her, I will 
 go to your benefit too.' 
 
 Next morning I won a small bet from Lady Diana Beau- 
 clerk, by .asking him as to one of his particularities, which 
 her Ladyship laid I durst not do. It seems he had been 
 frequently observed at the Club to put into his pocket the 
 Seville oranges, after he had squeezed the juice of them into 
 the drink which he made for himself. Beauclerk and Gar- 
 rick talked of it to me, and seemed to think that he had a 
 strange unwillingness to be discovered. We could not divine 
 what he did with them; and this was the bold question to be 
 put. I saw on his table the spoils of the preceding night, 
 some fresh peels nicely scraped and cut into pieces. '0, Sir, 
 (said I,) I now partly see what you do with the squeezed 
 oranges which you put into your pocket at the Club.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'I have a great love for them.' BOSWELL. 'And 
 pray, Sir, what do you do with them? You scrape them, it 
 seems, very neatly, and what next?' JOHNSON. 'Let them 
 dry, Sir.' BOSWELL. ' And what next ?' JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 Sir, you shall know their fate no further.' BOSWELL. ' Then 
 the world must be left in the dark. It must be said (assum- 
 ing a mock solemnity,) he scraped them, and let them dry, 
 1 Very likely Boswell. HILL.
 
 240 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 but what ,he did with them next, he never could be pre- 
 vailed upon to tell.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, you should say 
 it more emphatically: he could not be prevailed upon, even 
 by his dearest friends, to tell.' 
 
 He had this morning received his Diploma as Doctor of 
 Laws from the University of Oxford. He did not vaunt of 
 his new dignity, but I understood he was highly pleased 
 with it. 
 
 I observed to him that there were very few of his friends 
 so accurate as that I could venture to put down in writing 
 what they told me as his sayings. JOHNSON. 'Why should 
 you write down my. sayings?' BOSWELL. 'I write them 
 when they are good.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, you may as well 
 write down the sayings of any one else that are good.' But 
 where, I might with great propriety have added, can I find 
 such? 
 
 Next day, Sunday ,. April 2, I dined with him at Mr. 
 Hoole's. We talked of Pope. JOHNSON. 'He wrote his 
 Dunciad for fame. That was his primary motive. Had it 
 not been for that, the dunces might have railed against him 
 till they were weary, without his troubling himself about 
 them. He delighted to vex them, no doubt; but he had 
 more delight in seeing how well he could vex them.' 
 
 His Taxation no Tyrannny being mentioned, he said, 'I 
 think I have not been attacked enough for it. Attack is the 
 re-action; I never think I have hit hard, unless it rebounds.' 
 BOSWELL. 'I don't know, Sir, what you would be at. Five 
 or six shots of small arms in every newspaper, and repeated 
 cannonading in pamphlets, might, I think, satisfy you. But, 
 Sir, you'll never make out this match, of which we have 
 talked, with a certain political lady/ since you are so severe 
 against her principles.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I have the 
 better chance for that. She is like the Amazons of old; she 
 must be courted by the sword. But I have not been severe 
 upon her.' BOSWELL. 'Yes, Sir, you have made her ridic- 
 ulous.' JOHNSON. 'That was already done, Sir. To en- 
 deavour to make her ridiculous, is like blacking the chimney.' 
 
 I talked of the cheerfulness of Fleet-street, owing to the 
 1 Croker identifies her as Mrs. Macaulay. See p. 119. ED.
 
 1775] ON RETIRING FROM BUSINESS 241 
 
 constant quick succession of people which we perceive pass- 
 ing through it. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, Fleet-street has a 
 very animated appearance; but I think the full tide of 
 human existence is at Charing-cross.' 
 
 He made the common remark on the unhappiness which 
 men who have led a busy life experience, when they retire 
 in expectation of enjoying themselves at ease, and that they 
 generally languish for want of their habitual occupation, 
 and wish to return to it. He mentioned as strong an instance 
 of this as can well be imagined. 'An eminent tallow-chandler 
 in London, who had acquired a considerable fortune, gave 
 up the trade in favour of his foreman, and went to live at 
 a country-house near town. He soon grew weary, and paid 
 frequent visits to his old shop, where he desired they might 
 let him know their melting-days, and he would come and 
 assist them; which he accordingly did. Here, Sir, was a 
 man, to whom the most disgusting circumstance in the busi- 
 ness to which he had been used was a relief from idleness.' 
 
 On Wednesday, April 5, I dined with him at Messieurs 
 Dilly's, with Mr. John Scott of Am well, the Quaker, Mr. 
 Langton, Mr. Miller, (now Sir John,) and Dr. Thomas 
 Campbell, an Irish clergyman, whom I took the liberty of 
 inviting to Mr. Dilly's table, having seen him at Mr. Thrale's, 
 and been told that he had come to England chiefly with a 
 view to see Dr. Johnson, for whom he entertained the high- 
 est veneration. He has since published A Philosophical 
 Survey of the South of Ireland, a very entertaining book, 
 which has, however, one fault; that it assumes the fictitious 
 character of an Englishman. 
 
 We talked of publick speaking. JOHNSON. 'We must not 
 estimate a man's powers by his being able or not able to 
 deliver his sentiments in publick. Isaac Hawkins Browne, 
 one of the first wits of this country, got into Parliament, 
 and never opened his mouth. For my own part, I think it 
 is more disgraceful never to try to speak, than to try it and 
 fail; as it is more disgraceful not to fight, than to fight and 
 be beaten.' This argument appeared to me fallacious; for 
 if a man has not spoken, it may be said that he would have 
 done very well it he had tried; whereas, if he has tried and
 
 242 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 failed, there is nothing to be said for him. 'Why then, 
 (I asked,) is it thought disgraceful for a man not to fight, and 
 not disgraceful not to speak in publick?' JOHNSON. 'Be- 
 cause there may be other reasons for a man's not speaking 
 in publick than want of resolution: he may have nothing 
 to say, (laughing.) Whereas, Sir, you know courage is reck- 
 oned the greatest of all virtues; because, unless a man has 
 that virtue, he has no security for preserving any other.' 
 
 On Thursday, April 6, I dined with him at Mr. Thomas 
 Davies's, with Mr. Hicky, the painter, and my old acquain- 
 tance Mr. Moody, the player. 
 
 Dr. Johnson, as usual, spoke contemptuously of Colley 
 Gibber. 'It is wonderful that a man, who for forty years 
 had lived with the great and the witty, should have acquired 
 so ill the talents of conversation: and he had but half to 
 furnish; for one half of what he said was oaths.' He, how- 
 ever, allowed considerable merit to some of his comedies, 
 and said there was no reason to believe that the Careless 
 Husband was not written by himself. Davies said, he was 
 the first dramatick writer who introduced genteel ladies 
 upon the stage. Johnson refuted this observation by in- 
 stancing several such characters in comedies before his time. 
 DAVIES. (trying to defend himself from a charge of igno- 
 rance,) 'I mean genteel moral characters.' 'I think (said 
 Hicky,) gentility and morality are inseparable.' BOSWELL. 
 ' By no means, Sir. The genteelest characters are often the 
 most immoral. Does not Lord Chesterfield give precepts 
 for uniting wickedness and the graces? A man, indeed, 
 is not genteel when he gets drunk; but most vices may be 
 committed very genteelly: a man may debauch his friend's 
 wife genteelly: he may cheat at cards genteelly.' HICKY. 
 ' I do not think that is genteel.' BOSWELL. ' Sir, it may not 
 be like a gentleman, but it may be genteel.' JOHNSON. 
 ' You are meaning two different things. One means exteriour 
 grace; the other honour. It is certain that a man may be 
 very immoral with exteriour grace. Lovelace, in Clarissa, 
 is a very genteel and a very wicked character. Tom Her- 
 vey, who died t'other day, though a vicious man, was one 
 of the genteelest men that ever lived.' Tom Davies instanced
 
 1775] CHARLES THE SECOND 243 
 
 Charles the Second. JOHNSON, (taking fire at any attack 
 upon that Prince, for whom he had an extraordinary par- 
 tiality,) 'Charles the Second was licentious in his practice; 
 but he always had a reverence for what was good. Charles 
 the Second knew his people, and rewarded merit. The Church 
 was at no time better filled than in his reign. He was the 
 best King we have had from his time till the reign of his 
 present Majesty, except James the Second, who was a very 
 good King, but unhappily believed that it was necessary for 
 the salvation of his subjects that they should be Roman 
 Catholicks. He had the merit of endeavouring to do what 
 he thought was for the salvation of the souls of his subjects, 
 till he lost a great Empire. We, who thought that we should 
 not be saved if we were Roman Catholicks, had the merit 
 of maintaining our religion, at the expence of submitting 
 ourselves to the government of King William, (for it could 
 not be done otherwise,) to the government of one of the 
 most worthless scoundrels that ever existed. No; Charles 
 
 the Second was not such a man as , (naming another 
 
 King) . He did not destroy his father's will. He took money, 
 indeed, from France: but he did not betray those over 
 whom he ruled: he did not let the French fleet pass ours. 
 George the First knew nothing, and desired to know nothing; 
 did nothing, and desired to do nothing: and the only good 
 thing that is told of him is, that he wished to restore the 
 crown to its hereditary successor.' He roared with prodigious 
 violence against George the Second. When he ceased, Moody 
 interjected, in an Irish tone, and with a comick look, 'Ah! 
 poor George the Second.' 
 
 I mentioned that Dr. Thomas Campbell had come from 
 Ireland to London, principally to see Dr. Johnson. He 
 seemed angry at this observation. DAVIES. 'Why, you 
 know, Sir, there came a man from Spain to see Livy; and 
 Corelli came to England to see Purcell, and when he heard 
 he was dead, went directly back again to Italy.' JOHNSON. 
 'I should not have wished to be dead to disappoint Camp- 
 bell, had he been so foolish as you represent him; but I 
 should have wished to have been a hundred miles off.' This 
 was apparently perverse; and I do believe it was not his
 
 244 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 real way of thinking: he could not but like a man who 
 came so far to see him. He laughed with some complacency, 
 when I told him Campbell's odd expression to me concerning 
 him: 'That having seen such a man, was a thing to talk of 
 a century hence/ as if he could live so long. 
 
 We got into an argument whether the Judges who went 
 to India might with propriety engage in trade. Johnson 
 warmly maintained that they might. 'For why (he urged,) 
 should not Judges get riches, as well as those who deserve 
 them less?' I said, they should have sufficient salaries, and 
 have nothing to take off their attention from the affairs of 
 the publick. JOHNSON. 'No Judge, Sir, can give his whole 
 attention to his office; and it is very proper that he should 
 employ what time he has to himself, to his own advantage, 
 in the most profitable manner.' 'Then, Sir, (said Davies, 
 who enlivened the dispute by making it somewhat dramat- 
 ick,) he may become an insurer; and when he is going to 
 the bench, he may be stopped, "Your Lordship cannot go 
 yet: here is a bunch of invoices: several ships are about to 
 sail.'" JOHNSON. 'Sir, you may as well say a Judge should 
 not have a house; for they may come and tell him, "Your 
 Lordship's house is on fire;" and so, instead of minding the 
 business of his Court, he is to be occupied in getting the 
 engine with the greatest speed. There is no end of this. 
 Every Judge who has land, trades to a certain extent in corn 
 or in cattle; and in the land itself, undoubtedly. His 
 steward acts for him, and so do clerks for a great merchant. 
 A Judge may be a farmer; but he is not to geld his own 
 pigs. A Judge may play a little at cards for his amusement; 
 but he is not to play at marbles, or at chuck-farthing in the 
 Piazza. No, Sir; there is no profession to which a man 
 gives a very great proportion of his time. It is wonderful, 
 when a calculation is made, how little the mind is actually 
 employed in the discharge of any profession. No man 
 would be a Judge, upon the condition of being totally a 
 Judge. The best employed lawyer has his mind at work but 
 for a small proportion of his time; a great deal of his occu- 
 pation is merely mechanical. I once wrote for a magazine: 
 I made a calculation, that if I should write but a page a day,
 
 1775] THE OPPRESSION OF AUTHORS 245 
 
 at the same rate, I should, in ten years, write nine volumes 
 in folio, of an ordinary size and print.' BOSWELL. 'Such 
 as Carte's History?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. When a man 
 writes from his own mind, he writes very rapidly. The 
 greatest part of a writer's time is spent in reading, in order 
 to write: a man will turn over half a library to make one 
 book.' 
 
 We spoke of Rolt, to whose Dictionary of Commerce Dr. 
 Johnson wrote the Preface. JOHNSON. 'Old Gardner the 
 bookseller employed Rolt and Smart to write a monthly mis- 
 cellany, called The Universal Visitor. There was a formal 
 written contract, which Allen the printer saw. Gardner 
 thought as you do of the Judge. They were bound to write 
 nothing else; they were to have, I think, a third of the 
 profits of this sixpenny pamphlet; and the contract was for 
 ninety-nine years. I wish I had thought of giving this to 
 Thurlow, in the cause about Literary Property. What an 
 excellent instance would it have been of the oppression of 
 booksellers towards poor authours!' (smiling.) Davies, 
 zealous for the honour of the Trade, said, Gardner was not 
 properly a bookseller. JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; he certainly 
 was a bookseller. He had served his time regularly, was 
 a member of the Stationers' company, kept a shop in the 
 face of mankind, purchased copyright, and was a bibliopole, 
 Sir, in every sense. I wrote for some months in The Uni- 
 versal Visitor, for poor Smart, while he was mad, not then 
 knowing the terms on which he was engaged to write, and 
 thinking I was doing him good. I hoped his wits would 
 soon return to him. Mine returned to me, and I wrote in 
 The Universal Visitor no longer.' 
 
 Friday, April 7, I dined with him at a Tavern, with a 
 numerous company. 
 
 One of the company suggested an internal objection to- 
 the antiquity of the poetry said to be Ossian's, that we do 
 not find the wolf in it, which must have been the case had 
 it been of that age. 
 
 The mention of the wolf had led Johnson to think of other 
 wild beasts; and while Sir Joshua Reynolds and Mr. Lang- 
 ton were carrying on a dialogue about something which
 
 246 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 engaged them earnestly, he, in the midst of it, broke out, 
 'Pennant tells of Bears ' [what he added, I have forgotten.] 
 They went on, which he being dull of hearing, did not per- 
 ceive, or, if he did, was not willing to break off his talk; so 
 he continued to vociferate his remarks, and Bear (' like a word 
 in a catch' as Beauclerk said,) was repeatedly heard at in- 
 tervals, which coming from him who, by those who did not 
 know him, had been so often assimilated to that ferocious 
 animal, while we who were sitting around could hardly stifle 
 laughter, produced a very ludicrous effect. Silence having 
 ensued, he proceeded: 'We are told, that the black bear is 
 innocent; but I should not like to trust myself with him.' 
 Mr. Gibbon muttered, in a low tone of voice, 'I should not 
 like to trust myself with you.' This piece of sarcastick 
 pleasantry was a prudent resolution, if applied to a competi- 
 tion of abilities. 
 
 Patriotism having become one of our topicks, Johnson 
 suddenly uttered, in a strong determined tone, an apoph- 
 thegm, at which many will start: 'Patriotism is the last 
 refuge of a scoundrel.' But let it be considered, that he did 
 not mean a real and generous love of our country, but that 
 pretended patriotism which so many, in all ages and coun- 
 tries, have made a cloak for self-interest. 
 
 Mrs. Prichard being mentioned, he said, 'Her playing was 
 -quite mechanical. It is wonderful how little mind she had. 
 iSir, she had never read the tragedy of Macbeth all through. 
 : She no more thought of the play out of which her part was 
 taken, than a shoemaker thinks of the skin, out of which 
 the piece of leather, of which he is making a pair of shoes, 
 is cut.' 
 
 On Saturday, April 8, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, 
 where we met the Irish Dr. Campbell. Johnson had supped 
 the night before at Mrs. Abington's, with some fashionable 
 people whom he named; and he seemed much pleased with 
 having made one in so elegant a circle. Nor did he omit to 
 pique his mistress a little with jealousy of her housewifery; 
 for he said, (with a smile,) 'Mrs. Abington's jelly, my dear 
 lady, was better than yours.' 
 
 Mrs. Thrale, who frequently practised a coarse mode of
 
 1775] AT GENERAL OGLETHORPE'S 247 
 
 flattery, by repeating his bon-mots in his hearing, told us 
 that he had said, a certain celebrated actor was just fit to 
 stand at the door of an auction-room with a long pole, and 
 cry 'Pray gentlemen, walk in;' and that a certain authour, 
 upon hearing this, had said, that another still more cele- 
 brated actor was fit for nothing better than that, and would 
 pick your pocket after you came out. JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 my dear lady, there is no wit in what our friend added; 
 there is only abuse. You may as well say of any man that 
 he will pick a pocket. Besides, the man who is stationed 
 at the door does not pick people's pockets; that is done 
 within, by the auctioneer.' 
 
 On Monday, April 10, I dined with him at General Ogle- 
 thorpe's, with Mr. Langton and the Irish Dr. Campbell, 
 whom the General had obligingly given me leave to bring 
 with me. This learned gentleman was thus gratified with a 
 very high intellectual feast, by not only being in company 
 with Dr. Johnson, but with General Oglethorpe, who had 
 been so long a celebrated name both at home and abroad. 
 
 I must, again and again, intreat of my readers not to sup- 
 pose that my imperfect record of conversation contains the 
 whole of what was said by Johnson, or other eminent persons 
 who lived with him. What I have preserved, however, has 
 the value of the most perfect authenticity. 
 
 He urged General Oglethorpe to give the world his Life. 
 He said, 'I know no man whose Life would be more inter- 
 esting. If I were furnished with materials, I should be very 
 glad to write it.' 
 
 Mr. Scott of Amwell's Elegies were lying in the room. Dr. 
 Johnson observed, 'They are very well; but such as twenty 
 people might write.' Upon this I took occasion to contro- 
 vert Horace's maxim, 
 
 mediocribus esse poetis 
 
 Non Di, non homims, non concess&re columnce.' 
 
 For here, (I observed,) was a very middle-rate poet, who 
 pleased many readers, and therefore poetry of a middle sort 
 was entitled to some esteem; nor could I see why poetry
 
 248 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1175 
 
 should not, like every thing else, have different gradations of 
 excellence, and consequently of value. Johnson repeated 
 the common remark, that, 'as there is no necessity for our 
 having poetry at all, it being merely a luxury, an instrument 
 of pleasure, it can have no value, unless when exquisite in 
 its kind.' I declared myself not satisfied. 'Why then, Sir, 
 (said he,) Horace and you must settle it.' He was not much 
 in the humour of talking. 
 
 No more of his conversation for some days appears in my 
 journal, except that when a gentleman told him he had 
 bought a suit of lace for his lady, he said, 'Well, Sir, you 
 have done a good thing and a wise thing.' 'I have done a 
 good thing, (said the gentleman,) but I do not know that I 
 have done a wise thing.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; no money 
 is better spent than what is laid out for domestick satisfac- 
 tion. A man is pleased that his wife is drest as well as other 
 people; and a wife is pleased that she is drest.' 
 
 On Friday, April 14, being Good-Friday, I repaired to him 
 in the morning, according to my usual custom on that day, 
 and breakfasted with him. I observed that he fasted so 
 very strictly, that he did not even taste bread, and took no 
 milk with his tea; I suppose because it is a kind of animal 
 food. 
 
 I told him that I had been informed by Mr. Orme, that 
 many parts of the East-Indies were better mapped than the 
 Highlands of Scotland. JOHNSON. 'That a country may 
 be mapped, it must be travelled over.' 'Nay, (said I, mean- 
 ing to laugh with him at one of his prejudices,) can't you 
 say, it is not worth mapping?' 
 
 As we walked to St. Clement's church, and saw several 
 shops open upon this most solemn fast-day of the Christian 
 world, I remarked, that one disadvantage arising from the 
 immensity of London, was, that nobody was heeded by his 
 neighbour; there was no fear of censure for not observing 
 Good-Friday, as it ought to be kept, and as it is kept in 
 country-towns. He said, it was, upon the whole, very well 
 observed even in London. He, however, owned, that Lon- 
 don was too large; but added, 'It is nonsense to say the 
 head is too big for the body. It would be as much too big,
 
 1775! IN JOHNSON'S STUDY 249 
 
 though the body were ever so large; that is to say, though 
 the country were ever so extensive. It has no similarity to 
 a head connected with a body.' 
 
 Dr. Wetherell, Master of University College, Oxford, ac- 
 companied us home from church; and after he was gone, 
 there came two other gentlemen, one of whom uttered the 
 commonplace complaints, that by the increase of taxes, 
 labour would be dear, other nations would undersell us, and 
 our commerce would be ruined. JOHNSON, (smiling,) ' Never 
 fear, Sir. Our commerce is in a very good state; and sup- 
 pose we had no commerce at all, we could live very well on 
 the produce of our own country.' I cannot omit to mention, 
 that I never knew any man who was less disposed to be 
 querulous than Johnson. Whether the subject was his own 
 situation, or the state of the publick, or the state of human 
 nature in general, though he saw the evils, his mind was 
 turned to resolution, and never to whining or complaint. 
 
 We went again to St. Clement's in the afternoon. He had 
 found fault with the preacher in the morning for not choosing 
 a text adapted to the day. The preacher in the afternoon 
 had chosen one extremely proper: 'It is finished.' 
 
 After the evening service, he said, 'Come, you shall go 
 home with me, and sit just an hour.' But he was better 
 than his word; for after we had drunk tea with Mrs. Wil- 
 liams, he asked me to go up to his study with him, where we 
 sat a long while together in a serene undisturbed frame of 
 mind, sometimes in silence, and sometimes conversing, as 
 we felt ourselves inclined, or more properly speaking, as he 
 was inclined; for during all the course of my long intimacy 
 with him, my respectful attention never abated, and my 
 wish to hear him was such, that I constantly watched every 
 dawning of communication from that great and illuminated 
 mind. 
 
 He again advised me to keep a journal fully and minutely, 
 but not to mention such trifles as, that meat was too much 
 or too little done, or that the weather was fair or rainy. He 
 had, till very near his death, a contempt for the notion that 
 the weather affects the human frame. 
 
 I told him that our friend Goldsmith had said to me,
 
 250 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 that he had come too late into the world, for that Pope and 
 other poets had taken up the places in the Temple of Fame; 
 so that, as but a few at any period can possess poetical 
 reputation, a man of genius can now hardly acquire it. 
 JOHNSON. 'That is one of the most sensible things I have 
 ever heard of Goldsmith. It is difficult to get literary fame, 
 and it is every day growing more difficult. Ah, Sir, that 
 should make a man think of securing happiness in another 
 world, which all who try sincerely for it may attain. In 
 comparison of that, how little are all other things! The 
 belief of immortality is impressed upon all men, and all men 
 act under an impression of it, however they may talk, and 
 though, perhaps, they may be scarcely sensible of it.' I 
 said, it appeared to me that some people had not the least 
 notion of immortality; and I mentioned a distinguished 
 gentleman of our acquaintance. JOHNSON. 'Sir, if it were 
 not for the notion of immortality, he would cut a throat to 
 fill his pockets.' When I quoted this to Beauclerk, who knew 
 much more of the gentleman than we did, he said, in his acid 
 manner, 'He would cut a throat to fill his pockets, if it were 
 not for fear of being hanged.' 
 
 He was pleased to say, 'If you come to settle here, we 
 will have one day in the week on which we will meet by 
 ourselves. That is the happiest conversation where there is 
 no competition, no vanity, but a calm quiet interchange of 
 sentiments.' In his private register this evening is thus 
 marked, 'Boswell sat with me till night; we had some seri- 
 ous talk.' It also appears from the same record, that after I 
 left him he was occupied in religious duties, in ' giving Francis, 
 his servant, some directions for preparation to communicate; 
 in reviewing his life, and resolving on better conduct.' The 
 humility and piety which he discovers on such occasions, is 
 truely edifying. No saint, however, in the course of his 
 religious warfare, was more sensible of the unhappy failure 
 of pious resolves, than Johnson. He said one day, talking 
 to an acquaintance on this subject, 'Sir Hell is paved with 
 good intentions.' 
 
 On Sunday, April 16, being Easter Day, after having at- 
 tended the solemn service at St. Paul's, I dined with Dr.
 
 1775] VALUE OF READING 251 
 
 Johnson and Mrs. Williams. I maintained that Horace was 
 wrong in placing happiness in Nil admirari, for that I thought 
 admiration one of the most agreeable of all our feelings; 
 and I regretted that I had lost much of my disposition, to 
 admire, which people generally do as they advance hi life. 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, as a man advances in life, he gets what is 
 better than admiration judgement, to estimate things at 
 their true value.' I still insisted that admiration was more 
 pleasing than judgement, as love is more pleasing than friend- 
 ship. The feeling of friendship is like that of being eoin- 
 fortably filled with roast beef; love, like being enlironed 
 with champagne. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; admiration and love 
 are like being intoxicated with champagne; judgement and 
 friendship like being enlivened. Waller has hit upon the 
 same thought with you: but I don't believe you have bor- 
 rowed from Waller. I wish you would enable yourself to 
 borrow more.' 
 
 He then took occasion to enlarge on the advantages of 
 reading, and combated the idle superficial notion, that knowl- 
 edge enough may be acquired in conversation. 'The foun- 
 dation (said he,) must be laid by reading. General proci- 
 ples must be had from books, which, however, moat be 
 brought to the test of real life. In conversation you never 
 get a system. What is said upon a subject is to be gathered 
 from a hundred people. The parts of a truth, which a man 
 gets thus, are at such a distance from each other that he 
 never attains to a full view.' 
 
 On Tuesday, April 18, he and I were engaged to go with 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds to dine with Mr. Cambridge, at his 
 beautiful villa on the banks of the Thames, near Twicken- 
 ham. Dr. Johnson's tardiness was such, that Sir Joshua, 
 who had an appointment at Richmond, early in the day, 
 was obliged to go by himself on horseback, leaving his coach 
 to Johnson and me. Johnson was in such good spirits, that 
 every thing seemed to please him as we drove along. 
 
 Our conversation turned on a variety of subjects. He 
 thought portrait-painting an improper employment for a 
 woman. 'Publick practice of any art, (he observed,) and 
 staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a female.' I
 
 252 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 happened to start a question, whether, when a man knows 
 that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house 
 of another friend, with whom they are all equally intimate, 
 he may join them without an invitation. JOHNSON. 'No, 
 Sir; he is not to go when he is not invited. They may be 
 invited on purpose to abuse him' (smiling). 
 
 As a curious instance how little a man knows, or wishes 
 to know, his own character in the world, or, rather, as a 
 convincing proof that Johnson's roughness was only external, 
 and did not proceed from his heart, I insert the following 
 dialogue. JOHNSON. 'It is wonderful, Sir, how rare a 
 quality good humour is in life. We meet with very few 
 good humoured men.' I mentioned four of our friends, 
 none of whom he would allow to be good humoured. One 
 was acid, another was muddy, and to the others he had ob- 
 jections which have escaped me. Then, shaking his head 
 and stretching himself at ease in the coach, and smiling with 
 much complacency, he turned to me and said, 'I look upon 
 myself as a good humoured fellow.' The epithet fellow, ap- 
 plied to the great Lexicographer, the stately Moralist, the 
 masterly critick, as if he had been Sam Johnson, a mere 
 pleasant companion, was highly diverting; and this light 
 notion of himself struck me with wonder. I answered, also 
 smiling, ' No, no, Sir; that will not do. You are good natured, 
 but not good humoured: you are irascible. You have not 
 patience with folly and absurdity. I believe you would 
 pardon them, if there were time to deprecate your vengeance ; 
 but punishment follows so quick after sentence, that they 
 cannot escape.' 
 
 I had brought with me a great bundle of Scotch magazines 
 and news-papers, in which his Journey to the Western Islands 
 was attacked in every mode; and I read a great part of 
 them to him, knowing they would afford him entertainment. 
 I wish the writers of them had been present: they would 
 have been sufficiently vexed. One ludicrous imitation of 
 his style, by Mr. Maclaurin, now one of the Scotch Judges, 
 with the title of Lord Dreghorn, was distinguished by him 
 from the rude mass. 'This (said he,) is the best. But I 
 could caricature my own style much better myself.' He
 
 1775] THE BACKS OF BOOKS 253 
 
 defended his remark upon the general insufficiency of educa- 
 tion in Scotland; and confirmed to me the authenticity of 
 his witty saying on the learning of the Scotch; 'Their 
 learning is like bread in a besieged town: every man gets 
 a little, but no man gets a full meal.' 'There is (said he,) 
 in Scotland, a diffusion of learning, a certain portion of it 
 widely and thinly spread. A merchant there has as much 
 learning as one of their clergy.' 
 
 No sooner had we made our bow to Mr. Cambridge, in his 
 library, than Johnson ran eagerly to one side of the room, 
 intent on poring over the backs of the books. Sir Joshua 
 observed, (aside,) 'He runs to the books, as I do to the 
 pictures: but I have the advantage. I can see much more 
 of the pictures than he can of the books.' Mr. Cambridge, 
 upon this, politely said, 'Dr. Johnson, I am going, with 
 your pardon, to accuse myself, for I have the same custom 
 which I perceive you have. But it seems odd that one 
 should have such a desire to look at the backs of books.' 
 Johnson, ever ready for contest, instantly started from his 
 reverie, wheeled about, and answered, 'Sir, the reason is 
 very plain. Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a sub- 
 ject ourselves, or we know where we can find information 
 upon it. When we enquire into any subject, the first thing 
 we have to do is to know what books have treated of it. 
 This leads us to look at catalogues, and the backs of books 
 in libraries.' Sir Joshua observed to me the extraordinary 
 promptitude with which Johnson flew upon an argument. 
 'Yes, (said I,) he has no formal preparation, no flourishing 
 with his sword; he is through your body in an instant.' 
 
 Johnson was here solaced with an elegant entertainment, 
 a very accomplished family, and much good company; 
 among whom was Mr. Harris of Salisbury, who paid him 
 many compliments on his Journey to the Western Islands. 
 
 The common remark as to the utility of reading history 
 being made; JOHNSON. 'We must consider how very little 
 history there is; I mean real authentick history. That 
 certain Kings reigned, and certain battles were fought, we 
 can depend upon as true; but all the colouring, all the 
 philosophy of history is conjecture.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir,
 
 254 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775- 
 
 you would reduce all history to no better than an almanack, 
 a mere chronological series of remarkable events.' Mr. 
 Gibbon, who must at that time have been employed upon 
 his History, of which he published the first volume in the 
 following year, was present; but did not step forth in de- 
 fence of that species of writing. He probably did not like 
 to trust himself with JOHNSON ! 1 
 
 The Beggar's Opera, and the common question, whether 
 it was pernicious in its effects, having been introduced; 
 JOHNSON. 'As to this matter, which has been very much 
 contested, I myself am of opinion, that more influence has 
 been ascribed to The Beggar's Opera, than it in reality ever 
 had; for I do not believe that any man was ever made a 
 rogue by being present at its representation. At the same 
 time I do not deny that it may have some influence, by 
 making the character of a rogue familiar, and in some de- 
 gree pleasing.' Then collecting himself as it were, to give 
 a heavy stroke : ' There is in it such a labefactation of all prin- 
 ciples, as may be injurious to morality.' 
 
 While he pronounced this response, we sat in a comical 
 sort of restraint, smothering a laugh, which we were afraid 
 might burst out. 
 
 We talked of a young gentleman's 2 marriage with an emi- 
 nent singer, and his determination that she should no longer 
 sing in publick, though his father was very earnest she 
 should, because her talents would be liberally rewarded, so 
 as to make her a good fortune. It was questioned whether 
 the young gentleman, who had not a shilling in the world, 
 but was blest with very uncommon talents, was not foolishly 
 delicate, or foolishly proud, and his father truely rational 
 without being mean. Johnson, with all the high spirit of 
 a Roman senator, exclaimed, 'He resolved wisely and nobly 
 to be sure. He is a brave man. Would not a gentleman be 
 disgraced by having his wife singing publickly for hire? 
 No, Sir, there can be no doubt here. I know not if I should 
 
 1 See above, p. 246. ED. 
 
 1 Probably Richard Brinsley Sheridan, whose romantic marriage 
 with the beautiful Elizabeth Linley took place in 1773. He became 
 a member of the Club on Johnson's proposal. See below, p. 325. ED.
 
 1775] UNIVERSITY VERSES 255 
 
 not prepare myself for a publick singer, as readily as let my 
 wife be one.' 
 
 Johnson arraigned the modern politicks of this country, 
 as entirely devoid of all principle of whatever kind. 'Poli- 
 ticks (said he,) are now nothing more than means of rising 
 in the world. With this sole view do men engage in poli- 
 ticks, and their whole conduct proceeds upon it.' 
 
 Somebody found fault with writing verses in a dead lan- 
 guage, maintaining that they were merely arrangements of 
 so many words, and laughed at the Universities of Oxford 
 and Cambridge, for sending forth collections of them not 
 only in Greek and Latin, but even in Syriac, Arabick, and 
 other more unknown tongues. JOHNSON. ' I would have as 
 many of these as possible; I would have verses in every 
 language that there are the means of acquiring. Nobody 
 imagines that an University is to have at once two hundred 
 poets; but it should be able to show two hundred scholars. 
 Pieresc's death was lamented, I think, in forty languages. 
 And I would have had at every coronation, and every death 
 of a King, every Gaudium, and every Lucttis, University 
 verses, in as many languages as can be acquired. I would 
 have the world to be thus told, "Here is a school where 
 every thing may be learnt."' 
 
 Having set out next day on a visit to the Earl of Pem- 
 broke, at Wilton, and to my friend, Mr. Temple, at Mam- 
 head, in Devonshire, and not having returned to town till 
 the second of May, I did not see Dr. Johnson for a consider- 
 able time, and during the remaining part of my stay in Lon- 
 don, kept very imperfect notes of his conversation, which 
 had I according to my usual custom written out at large soon 
 after the time, much might have been preserved, which is 
 now irretrievably lost. 
 
 On Monday, May 8, we went together and visited the 
 mansions of Bedlam. I had been informed that he had once 
 been there before with Mr. Wedderburne, (now Lord Lough- 
 borough,) Mr. Murphy, and Mr. Foote; and I had heard 
 Foote give a very entertaining account of Johnson's happen- 
 ing to have his attention arrested by a man who was very 
 furious, and who, while beating his straw, supposed it was
 
 256 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 William Duke of Cumberland, whom he was punishing for 
 his cruelties in Scotland, in 1746. There was nothing pecu- 
 liarly remarkable this day; but the general contemplation 
 of insanity was very affecting. I accompanied him home, 
 and dined and drank tea with him. 
 
 On Friday, May 12, as he had been so good as to assign 
 me a room in his house, where I might sleep occasionally, 
 when I happened to sit with him to a late hour, I took pos- 
 session of it this night, found every thing in excellent order, 
 and was attended by honest Francis with a most civil assi- 
 duity. I asked Johnson whether I might go to a consulta- 
 tion with another lawyer upon Sunday, as that appeared to 
 me to be doing work as much in my way, as if an artisan 
 should work on the day appropriated for religious rest. 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, when you are of consequence enough 
 to oppose the practice of consulting upon Sunday, you 
 should do it: but you may go now. It is not criminal, 
 though it is not what one should do, who is anxious for the 
 preservation and increase of piety, to which a peculiar ob- 
 servance of Sunday is a great help. The distinction is clear 
 between what is of moral and what is of ritual obligation.' 
 
 On Saturday, May 13, I breakfasted with him by invita- 
 tion, accompanied by Mr. Andrew Crosbie, a Scotch Advo- 
 cate, whom he had seen at Edinburgh, and the Hon. Colonel 
 (now General) Edward Stopford, brother to Lord Courtown, 
 who was desirous of being introduced to him. His tea and 
 rolls and butter, and whole breakfast apparatus were all in 
 such decorum, and his behaviour was so courteous, that 
 Colonel Stopford was quite surprized, and wondered at his 
 having heard so much said of Johnson's slovenliness and 
 roughness. 
 
 I passed many hours with him on the 17th, of which I 
 find all my memorial is, 'much laughing.' It should seem 
 he had that day been in a humour for jocularity and merri- 
 ment, and upon such occasions I never knew a man laugh more 
 heartily. We may suppose, that the high relish of a state 
 so different from his habitual gloom, produced more than ordi- 
 nary exertions of that distinguishing faculty of man, which 
 has puzzled philosophers so much to explain. Johnson's
 
 1775] LETTER TO BOSWELL 257 
 
 laugh was as remarkable as any circumstance in his manner. 
 It was a kind of good humoured growl. Tom Davies de- 
 scribed it drolly enough: 'He laughs like a rhinoceros.' 
 
 'To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I have an old amanuensis in great distress. 
 I have given what I think I can give, and begged till I can- 
 not tell where to beg again. I put into his hands this morn- 
 ing four guineas. If you could collect three guineas more,, 
 it would clear him from his present difficulty. I am, Sir,, 
 your most humble servant, 
 
 'May 21, 1775.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 After my return to Scotland, I wrote three letters to him. 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I am returned from the annual ramble into 
 the middle counties. Having seen nothing I had not seen 
 before, I have nothing to relate. Time has left that part of 
 the island few antiquities ; and commerce has left the people 
 no singularities. I was glad to go abroad, and, perhaps, 
 glad to come home; which is, in other words, I was, I am 
 afraid, weary of being at home, and weary of being abroad. 
 Is not this the state of life ? But, if we confess this weariness,, 
 let us not lament it, for all the wise and all the good say, 
 that we may cure it. ... 
 
 'Mrs. Thrale was so entertained with your Journal, 1 that 
 she almost read herself blind. She has a great regard for 
 you. 
 
 'Of Mrs. Boswell, though she knows in her heart that she 
 does not love me, I am alwa3's glad to hear any good, and 
 hope that she and the little dear ladies will have neither 
 sickness nor any other affliction. But she knows that she 
 does not care what becomes of me, and for that she may be 
 sure that I think her very much to blame. 
 
 . ' My Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, which that lady read In the 
 original manuscript. BOSWELL.
 
 258 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 'Never, my dear Sir, do you take it into your head to 
 think that I do not love you; you may settle yourself in full 
 confidence both of my love and my esteem; I love you as 
 a kind man, I value you as a worthy man, and hope in time 
 to reverence you as a man of exemplary piety. I hold you, 
 as Hamlet has it, "in my heart of hearts," and therefore, it 
 is little to say, that I am, Sir, your affectionate humble 
 servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'London, Aug. 27, 1775.' 
 
 'To MR. ROBERT LEVET. 
 
 'Paris, 1 Oct. 22, 1775. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, We are still here, commonly very busy in 
 looking about us. We have been to-day at Versailles. You 
 have seen it, and I shall not describe it. We came yester- 
 day from Fontainbleau, where the Court is now. We went 
 to see the King and Queen at dinner, and the Queen was so 
 impressed by Miss, 2 that she sent one of the Gentlemen to 
 enquire who she was. I find all true that you have ever 
 told me of Paris. Mr. Thrale is very liberal, and keeps us 
 two coaches, and a very fine table; but I think our cookery 
 very bad. Mrs. Thrale got into a convent of English nuns, 
 and I talked with her through the grate, and I am very 
 kindly used by the English Benedictine friars. But upon the 
 whole I cannot make much acquaintance here; and though 
 the churches, palaces, and some private houses are very 
 magnificent, there is no very great pleasure after having seen 
 many, in seeing more; at least the pleasure, whatever it be, 
 must some time have an end, and we are beginning to think 
 when we shall come home. Mr. Thrale calculates that, as 
 we left Streatham on the fifteenth of September, we shall 
 see it again about the fifteenth of November. 
 
 'I think I had not been on this side of the sea five days 
 before I found a sensible improvement in my health. I ran 
 a race in the rain this day, and beat Baretti. Baretti is a 
 
 1 Written from a tour In France with the Thrales, Johnson's only 
 visit to the Continent. ED. 
 J Miss Thrale.
 
 1775] ACCOUNT OF FRENCH TOUR 259 
 
 fine fellow, and speaks French, I think, quite as well as Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 'Make my compliments to Mrs. Williams; and give my 
 love to Francis; and tell my friends that I am not lost. 
 I am, dear Sir, your affectionate humble, &c. 
 
 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 It is to be regretted that he did not write an account of 
 his travels in France; for as he is reported to have once 
 said, that 'he could write the Life of a Broomstick,' so, 
 notwithstanding so many former travellers have exhausted 
 almost every subject for remark in that great kingdom, his 
 very accurate observation, and peculiar vigour of thought 
 and illustration, would have produced a valuable work. 
 
 When I met him in London the following year, the ac- 
 count which he gave me of his French tour, was, 'Sir, I have 
 seen all the visibilities of Paris, and around it; but to have 
 formed an acquaintance with the people there, would have 
 required more time than I could stay. I was just begin- 
 ning to creep into acquaintance by means of Colonel Drum- 
 gold, a very high man, Sir, head of L'Ecole Militaire, a most 
 complete character, for he had first been a professor of rhet- 
 orick, and then became a soldier. And, Sir, I was very kindly 
 treated by the English Benedictines, and have a cell appro- 
 priated to me in their convent.' 
 
 He observed, 'The great in France live very magnifi- 
 cently, but the rest very miserably. There is no happy 
 middle state as in England. The shops of Paris are mean; 
 the meat in the markets is such as would be sent to a gaol 
 in England: and Mr. Thrale justly observed, that the 
 cookery of the French was forced upon them by necessity; 
 for they could not eat their meat, unless they added some 
 taste to it. The French are an indelicate people; they will 
 spit upon any place. At Madame - 'a, a literary 
 
 lady of rank, the footman took the sugar in his fingers, and 
 threw it into my coffee. I was going to put it aside; but 
 hearing it was made on purpose for me, I e'en tasted Tom's 
 fingers. The same lady would needs make tea d, I'Angloise. 
 The spout of the tea-pot did not pour freely; she bad the
 
 260 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 footman blow into it. France is worse than Scotland in 
 every thing but climate. Nature has done more for the 
 French; but they have done less for themselves than the 
 Scotch have done.' 
 
 It happened that Foote was at Paris at the same time 
 with Dr. Johnson, and his description of my friend while 
 there, was abundantly ludicrous. He told me, that the 
 French were quite astonished at his figure and manner, and 
 at his dress, which he obstinately continued exactly as in 
 London; his brown clothes, black stockings, and plain 
 shirt. He mentioned, that an Irish gentleman said to John- 
 son, 'Sir, you have not seen the best French players.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Players, Sir! I look on them as no better than 
 creatures set upon tables and joint-stools to make faces 
 and produce laughter, like dancing dogs.' 'But, Sir, you 
 will allow that some players are better than others ? ' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Yes, Sir, as some dogs dance better than others.' 
 
 While Johnson was in France, he was generally very 
 resolute in speaking Latin. It was a maxim with him that 
 a man should not let himself down, by speaking a language 
 which he speaks imperfectly. Indeed, we must have often 
 observed how inferiour, how much like a child a man ap- 
 pears, who speaks a broken tongue. When Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, at one of the dinners of the Royal Academy, presented 
 him to a Frenchman of great distinction, he would not 
 deign to speak French, but talked Latin, though his Excel- 
 lency did not understand it, owing, perhaps, to Johnson's 
 English pronunciation: yet upon another occasion he was 
 observed to speak French to a Frenchman of high rank, 
 who spoke English; and being asked the reason, with some 
 expression of surprise, he answered, 'because I think my 
 French is as good as his English.' Though Johnson under- 
 stood French perfectly, he could not speak it readily, as I 
 have observed at his first interview with General Paoli, in 
 1769; yet he wrote it, I imagine, pretty well. 
 
 Here let me not forget a curious anecdote, as related to 
 me by Mr. Beauclerk, which I shall endeavour to exhibit 
 as well as I can in that gentleman's lively manner; and in 
 justice to him it is proper to add, that Dr. Johnson told me
 
 1775] MADAME DE BOUFFLERS 261 
 
 I might rely both on the correctness of his memory, and the 
 fidelity of his narrative. 'When Madame de Boufflers was 
 first in England, (said Beauclerk,) she was desirous to see 
 Johnson. I accordingly went with her to his chambers in 
 the Temple, where she was entertained with his conversa- 
 tion for some time. When our visit was over, she and I 
 left him, and were got into Inner Temple-lane, when all at 
 once I heard a noise like thunder. This was occasioned by 
 Johnson, who it seems, upon a little recollection, had taken 
 it into his head that he ought to have done the honours of 
 his literary residence to a foreign lady of quality, and eager 
 to shew himself a man of gallantry, was hurrying down the 
 stair-case in violent agitation. He overtook us before we 
 reached the Temple-gate, and brushing in between me and 
 Madame de Boufflers, seized her hand, and conducted her 
 to her coach. His dress was a rusty brown morning suit, 
 a pair of old shoes by way of slippers, a little shrivelled wig 
 sticking on the top of his head, and the sleeves of his shirt 
 and the knees of his breeches hanging loose. A considera- 
 ble crowd of people gathered round, and were not a little 
 struck by this singular appearance.' 
 
 He spoke Latin with wonderful fluency and elegance. 
 When Pere Boscovich was in England, Johnson dined in 
 company with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and at Dr. 
 Douglas's, now Bishop of Salisbury. Upon both occasions 
 that celebrated foreigner expressed his astonishment at 
 Johnson's Latin conversation. When at Paris, Johnson thus 
 characterised Voltaire to Freron the Journalist: l Vir est 
 acerrimi ingenii et paucarum literarum.' 
 
 In the course of this year Dr. Burney informs me that 
 'he very frequently met Dr. Johnson at Mr. Thrale's, at 
 Streatham, where they had many long conversations, often 
 sitting up as long as the fire and candles lasted, and much 
 longer than the patience of the servants subsisted.' 
 
 A few of Johnson's sayings, which that gentleman recol- 
 lects, shall here be inserted. 
 
 'I never take a nap after dinner but when I have had a 
 bad night, and then the nap takes me.' 
 
 ' The writer of an epitaph should not be considered as say-
 
 262 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 ing nothing but what is strictly true. Allowance must be 
 made for some degree of exaggerated praise. In lapidary 
 inscriptions a man is not upon oath.' 
 
 'There is now less flogging in our great schools than for- 
 merly, but then less is learned there; so that what the boys 
 get at one end they lose at the other.' 
 
 'More is learned in publick than in private schools, from 
 emulation; there is the collision of mind with mind, or the 
 radiation of many minds pointing to one centre. Though 
 few boys make their own exercises, yet if a good exercise 
 is given up, out of a great number of boys, it is made by 
 somebody.' 
 
 'I hate by-roads in education. Education is as well 
 known, and has long been as well known, as ever it can be. 
 Endeavouring to make children prematurely wise is useless 
 labour. Suppose they have more knowledge at five or six 
 years old than other children, what use can be made of it? 
 It will be lost before it is wanted, and the waste of so much 
 time and labour of the teacher can never be repaid. T.oo 
 much is expected from precocity, and too little performed. 
 
 Miss was an instance of early cultivation, but in what 
 
 did it terminate? In marrying a little Presbyterian par- 
 son, who keeps an infant boarding-school, so that all her 
 employment now is, 
 
 "To suckle fools, and chronicle small-beer." 
 
 She tells the children, "This is a cat, and that is a dog, 
 with four legs and a tail; see there! you are much better 
 than a cat or a dog, for you can speak." If I had bestowed 
 such an education on a daughter, and had discovered that 
 she thought of marrying such a fellow, I would have sent 
 her to the Congress.' 
 
 'After having talked slightingly of musick, he was ob- 
 served to listen very attentively while Miss Thrale played 
 on the harpsichord, and with eagerness he called to her, 
 "Why don't you dash away like Burney?" Dr. Burney 
 upon this said to him, "I believe, Sir, we shall make a mu- 
 sician of you at last." Johnson with candid complacency
 
 1776] HOUSE IN BOLT-COURT 263 
 
 replied, "Sir, I shall be glad to have a new sense given to 
 me."' 
 
 'He had come down one morning to the breakfast-room, 
 and been a considerable time by himself before any body 
 appeared. When, on a subsequent day, he was twitted by 
 Mrs. Thrale for being very late, which he generally was, he 
 defended himself by alluding to the extraordinary morning, 
 when he had been too early. "Madame, I do not like to 
 come down to vacuity."' 
 
 'Dr. Burney having remarked that Mr. Garrick was be- 
 ginning to look old, he said, "Why, Sir, you are not to 
 wonder at that; no man's face has had more wear and 
 tear." ' 
 
 1776: JETAT. 67.] HAVING arrived in London late on Friday, 
 the loth of March, I hastened next morning to wait on Dr. 
 Johnson, at his house; but found he was removed from John- 
 son's-court, No. 7, to Bolt-court, No. 8, still keeping to his 
 favourite Fleet-street. My reflection at the time upon this 
 change as marked in my Journal, is as follows: ' I felt a foolish 
 regret that he had left a court which bore his name 1 ; but it 
 was not foolish to be affected with some tenderness of regard 
 for a place in which I had seen him a great deal, from whence 
 I had often issued a better and a happier man than when 
 I went in, and which had often appeared to my imagination 
 while I trod its pavements, in the solemn darkness of the 
 night, to be sacred to wisdom and piety.' Being informed 
 that he was at Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough, I hastened 
 thither, and found Mrs. Thrale and him at breakfast. I was 
 kindly welcomed. In a moment he was in a full glow of 
 conversation, and I felt myself elevated as if brought into 
 another state of being. Mrs. Thrale and I looked to each 
 other while he talked, and our looks expressed our congenial 
 admiration and affection for him. I shall ever recollect this 
 scene with great pleasure. I exclaimed to her, 'I am now, 
 intellectually, Hermippus redivivus, I am quite restored by 
 him, by transfusion of mind.' "There are many (she re- 
 
 1 He said, when In Scotland, that he was Johnson of that Ilk. Bos- 
 
 WBLL.
 
 264 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 plied) who admire and respect Mr. Johnson; but you and 
 I love him.' 
 
 He seemed very happy in the near prospect of going to 
 Italy with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. 'But, (said he,) before 
 leaving England I am to take a jaunt to Oxford, Birming- 
 ham, my native city Lichfield, and my old friend, Dr. Tay- 
 lor's, at Ashbourn, in Derbyshire. I shall go in a few days, 
 and you, Boswell, shall go with me.' I was ready to accom- 
 pany him; being willing even to leave London to have the 
 pleasure of his conversation. 
 
 We got into a boat to cross over to Black-friars; and as 
 we moved along the Thames, I talked to him of a little 
 volume, which, altogether unknown to him, was advertised 
 to be published in a few days, under the title of Johnsoniana, 
 or Bon-Mots of Dr. Johnson. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is a mighty 
 impudent thing.' BOSWELL. ' Pray, Sir, could you have no 
 redress if you were to prosecute a publisher for bringing out, 
 under your name, what you never said, and ascribing to 
 you dull stupid nonsense, or making you swear profanely, 
 as many ignorant relaters of your bon-mots do?' JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir; there will always be some truth mixed with the 
 falsehood, and how can it be ascertained how much is true 
 and how much is false? Besides, Sir, what damages would 
 a jury give me for having been represented as swearing?' 
 BOSWELL. ' I think, Sir, you should at least disavow such 
 a publication, because the world and posterity might with 
 much plausible foundation say, "Here is a volume which 
 was publickly advertised and came out in Dr. Johnson's own 
 time, and, by his silence, was admitted by him to be gen- 
 uine." ' JOHNSON. 'I shall give myself no trouble about the 
 matter.' 
 
 He was, perhaps, above suffering from such spurious pub- 
 lications; but I could not help thinking, that many men 
 would be much injured in their reputation, by having absurd 
 and vicious sayings imputed to them; and that redress 
 ought in such cases to be given. 
 
 He said, 'The value of every story depends on its being 
 true. A story is a picture either of an individual or of 
 human nature in general: if it be false, it is a picture of
 
 1776] VERACITY 265- 
 
 nothing. For instance: suppose a man should tell that 
 Johnson, before setting out for Italy, as he had to cross the 
 Alps, sat down to make himself wings. This many people 
 would believe; but it would be a picture of nothing. ******* 
 (naming a worthy friend of ours,) used to think a story, a 
 story, till I shewed him that truth was essential to it.' I 
 observed, that Foote entertained us with stories which were- 
 not true; but that, indeed, it was properly not as narratives 
 that Foote's stories pleased us, but as collections of ludicrous 
 images. JOHNSON. 'Foote is quite impartial, for he tells 
 lies of every body.' 
 
 The importance of strict and scrupulous veracity cannot 
 be too often inculcated. Johnson was known to be so 
 rigidly attentive to it, that even in his common conversation 
 the slightest circumstance was mentioned with exact prer 
 cision. The knowledge of his having such a principle and 
 habit made his friends have a perfect reliance on the truth 
 of every thing that he told, however it might have been 
 doubted if told by many others. As an instance of this, I 
 may mention an odd incident which he related as having 
 happened to him one night in Fleet-street. 'A gentlewoman 
 (said he) begged I would give her my arm to assist her in 
 crossing the street, which I accordingly did; upon which 
 she offered me a shilling, supposing me to be the watchman. 
 I perceived that she was somewhat in liquor.' This, if told 
 by most people, would have been thought an invention; 
 when told by Johnson, it was believed by his friends as 
 much as if they had seen what passed. 
 
 We landed at the Temple-stairs, where we parted. 
 
 I found him in the evening in Mrs. Williams's room. 
 Finding him still persevering in his abstinence from wine, 
 I ventured to speak to him of it. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have no 
 objection to a man's drinking wine, if he can do it in modera- 
 tion. I found myself apt to go to excess in it, and there- 
 fore, after having been for some time without it, on account 
 of illness, I thought it better not to return to it. Every 
 man is to judge for himself, according to the effects which 
 he experiences. One of the fathers tells us, he found fast- 
 ing made him so peevish that he did not practise it.'
 
 266 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 Though he often enlarged upon the evil of intoxication, he 
 was by no means harsh and unforgiving to those who in- 
 dulged in occasional excess in wine. One of his friends, I 
 well remember, came to sup at a tavern with him and some 
 other gentlemen, and too plainly discovered that he had 
 drunk too much at dinner. When one who loved mischief, 
 thinking to produce a severe censure, asked Johnson, a few 
 days afterwards, 'Well, Sir, what did your friend say to you, 
 as an apology for being in such a situation?' Johnson an- 
 swered, 'Sir, he said all that a man should say: he said he 
 was sorry for it.' 
 
 I again visited him on Monday. He took occasion to en- 
 large, as he often did, upon the wretchedness of a sea-life. 
 'A ship is worse than a gaol. There is, in a gaol, better ah*, 
 better company, better conveniency of every kind; and a 
 ship has the additional disadvantage of being in danger. 
 When men come to like a sea-life, they are not fit to live on 
 land.' 'Then (said I) it would be cruel in a father to breed 
 Ms son to the sea.' JOHNSON. ' It would be cruel in a father 
 who thinks as I do. Men go to sea, before they know the 
 unhappiness of that way of life; and when they have come 
 to know it, they cannot escape from it, because it is then too 
 late to choose another profession; as indeed is generally 
 the case with men, when they have once engaged in any 
 particular way of life.' 
 
 On Tuesday, March 19, which was fixed for our proposed 
 jaunt, we met hi the morning at the Somerset coffee-house in 
 the Strand, where we were taken up by the Oxford coach. 
 He was accompanied by Mr. Gwyn, the architect; and a 
 gentleman of Merton College, whom we did not know, had 
 the fourth seat. We soon got into conversation; for it was 
 very remarkable of Johnson, that the presence of a stranger 
 had no restraint upon his talk. I observed that Garrick, 
 who was about to quit the stage, would soon have an easier 
 life. JOHNSON. 'I doubt that, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'Why, 
 Sir, he will be Atlas with the burthen off his back.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'But I know not, Sir, if he will be so steady without 
 his load. However, he should never play any more, but be 
 entirely the gentleman, and not partly the player: he should
 
 1776] MR. GWYN THE ARCHITECT 267 
 
 no longer subject himself to be hissed by a mob, or to be 
 insolently treated by performers, whom he used to rule 
 with a high hand, and who would gladly retaliate.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'I think he should play once a year for the benefit 
 of decayed actors, as it has been said he means to do.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Alas, Sir! he will soon be a decayed actor 
 himself.' 
 
 Johnson expressed his disapprobation of ornamental archi- 
 tecture, such as magnificent columns supporting a portico, 
 or expensive pilasters supporting merely their own capitals, 
 'because it consumes labour disproportionate to its utility.' 
 For the same reason he satyrised statuary. ' Painting (said 
 he) consumes labour not disproportionate to its effect; but 
 a fellow will hack half a year at a block of marble to make 
 something in stone that hardly resembles a man. The 
 value of statuary is owing to its difficulty. You would not 
 value the finest head cut upon a carrot.' 
 
 Gwyn was a fine lively rattling fellow. Dr. Johnson kept 
 him in subjection, but with a kindly authority. The spirit 
 of the artist, however, rose against what he thought a Goth- 
 ick attack, and he made a brisk defence. 'What, Sir, will 
 you allow no value to beauty in architecture or in statuary? 
 Why should we allow it then in writing? Why do you take 
 the trouble to give us so many fine allusions, and bright 
 images, and elegant phrases? You might convey all your 
 instruction without these ornaments.' Johnson smiled with 
 complacency; but said, 'Why, Sir, all these ornaments are 
 useful, because they obtain an easier reception for truth; 
 but a building is not at all more convenient for being deco- 
 rated with superfluous carved work.' 
 
 Gwyn at last was lucky enough to make one reply to Dr. 
 Johnson, which he allowed to be excellent. Johnson cen- 
 sured him for taking down a church which might have stood 
 many years, and building a new one at a different place, for 
 no other reason but that there might be a direct road to a 
 new bridge; and his expression was, 'You are taking a 
 church out of the way, that the people may go in a straight 
 line to the bridge.' 'No, Sir, (said Gwyn,) I am putting the 
 church in the way, that the people may not go out of the way.'
 
 268 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 JOHNSON, (with a hearty loud laugh of approbation,) 'Speak 
 no more. Rest your colloquial fame upon this.' 
 
 Upon our arrival at Oxford, Dr. Johnson and I went 
 directly to University College, but were disappointed on 
 finding that one of the fellows, his friend Mr. Scott, who 
 accompanied him from Newcastle to Edinburgh, was gone 
 to the country. We put up at the Angel inn, and passed the 
 evening by ourselves in easy and familiar conversation. 
 Talking of constitutional melancholy, he observed, 'A man 
 so afflicted, Sir, must divert distressing thoughts, and not 
 combat with them.' BOSWELL. 'May not he think them 
 down, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. To attempt to think 
 them down is madness. He should have a lamp constantly 
 burning in his bed-chamber during the night, and if wake- 
 fully disturbed, take a book, and read, and compose himself 
 to rest.. To have the management of the mind is a great 
 art, and it may be attained in a considerable degree by ex- 
 perience and habitual exercise.' BOSWELL. 'Should not he 
 provide amusements for himself ? Would it not, for instance, 
 be fight for him to take a course of chymistry?' JOHNSON. 
 ' Let him take a course of chymistry, or a course of rope- 
 dancing, or a course of any thing to which he is inclined at 
 the time. Let him contrive to have as many retreats for his 
 mind as he can, as many things to which it can fly from it- 
 self. Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy is a valuable work. 
 It is, perhaps, overloaded with quotation. But there is 
 great spirit and great power in what Burton says, when he 
 writes from his own mind.' 
 
 Next morning we visited Dr. Wetherell, Master of Uni- 
 versity College, with whom Dr. Johnson conferred on the 
 most advantageous mode of disposing of the books printed 
 at the Clarendon press. I often had occasion to remark, 
 Johnson loved business, loved to have his wisdom actually 
 operate on real life. 
 
 We then went to Pembroke College, and waited on his old 
 friend Dr. Adams, the master of it, whom I found to be a 
 most polite, pleasing, communicative man. Before his ad- 
 vancement to the headship of his college, I had intended to 
 go and visit him at Shrewsbury, where he was rector of St.
 
 1776] AT OXFORD 269 
 
 Chad's, in order to get from him what particulars he could 
 recollect of Johnson's academical life. He now obligingly 
 gave me part of that authentick information, which, with 
 what I afterwards owed to his kindness, will be found incor- 
 porated in its proper place in this work. 
 
 Dr. Adams told us, that in some of the Colleges at Oxford, 
 the fellows had excluded the students from social intercourse 
 with them in the common room. JOHNSON. 'They are in 
 the right, Sir: there can be no real conversation, no fair 
 exertion of mind amongst them, if the young men are by; 
 for a man who has a character does not choose to stake it in 
 their presence.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, may there not be 
 very good conversation without a contest for superiority?' 
 JOHNSON. ' No animated conversation, Sir, for it cannot be 
 but one or other will come off superiour. I do not mean 
 that the victor must have the better of the argument, for 
 he may take the weak side; but his superiority of parts and 
 knowledge will necessarily appear: and he to whom he thus 
 shews himself superiour is lessened in the eyes of the young 
 men.' 
 
 We walked with Dr. Adams into the master's garden, and 
 into the common room. JOHNSON, (after a reverie of medi- 
 tation,) 'Ay! Here I used to play at draughts with Phil. 
 Jones and Fludyer. Jones loved beer, and did not get very 
 forward in the church. Fludyer turned out a scoundrel, a 
 Whig, and said he was ashamed of having been bred at 
 Oxford. He had a living at Putney, and got under the eye 
 of some retainers to the court at that time, and so became 
 a violent Whig: but he had been a scoundrel all along to be 
 sure.' BOSWELL. 'Was he a scoundrel, Sir, in any other 
 way than that of being a political scoundrel? Did he cheat 
 at draughts?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we never played for money.* 
 
 He then carried*me to visit Dr. Bentham, Canon of Christ- 
 Church, and Divinity Professor, with whose learned and 
 lively conversation we were much pleased. He gave us an 
 invitation to dinner, which Dr. Johnson told me was a high 
 honour. ' Sir, it is a great thing to dine with the Canons of 
 Christ-Church.' We could not accept his invitation, as we 
 were engaged to dine at University College. We had an ex-
 
 270 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1770 
 
 cellent dinner there, with the Master and Fellows, it being 
 St. Cuthbert's day, which is kept by them as a festival, as 
 he was a saint of Durham, with which {his college is much 
 connected. 
 
 We drank tea with Dr. Home, late President of Magdalen 
 College, and Bishop of Norwich, of whose abilities, in dif- 
 ferent respects, the publick has had eminent proofs, and the 
 esteem annexed to whose character was increased by know- 
 ing him personally. 
 
 We then went to Trinity College, where he introduced 
 me to Mr. Thomas Warton, with whom we passed a part 
 of the evening. We talked of biography. JOHNSON. 'It 
 is rarely well executed. They only who live with a man 
 can write his life with any genuine exactness and discrimi- 
 nation; and few people who have lived with a man know 
 what to remark about him. The chaplain of a late Bishop, 
 whom I was to assist in writing some memoirs of his Lord- 
 ship, could tell me scarcely any thing.' 
 
 I said, Mr. Robert Dodsley's life should be written, as he 
 had been so much connected with the wits of his time, and 
 by his literary merit had raised himself from the station 
 of a footman. Mr. Warton said, he had published a little 
 volume under the title of The Muse in Livery. JOHNSON. 
 'I doubt whether Dodsley's brother would thank a man 
 who should write his life: yet Dodsley himself was not un- 
 willing that his original low condition should be recollected. 
 When Lord Lyttelton's Dialogues of the Dead came out, one 
 of which is between Apicius, an ancient epicure, and Darti- 
 neuf, a modern epicure, Dodsley said to me, "I knew Darti- 
 neuf well, for I was once his footman."' 
 
 I mentioned Sir Richard Steele having published his 
 Christian Hero, with the avowed purpose of obliging himself 
 to lead a religious life; yet, that his conduct was by no 
 means strictly suitable. JOHNSON. 'Steele, I believe, prac- 
 tised the lighter vices.' 
 
 Mr. Warton, being engaged, could not sup with us at our 
 inn; we had therefore another evening by ourselves. I 
 asked Johnson, whether a man's being forward to make 
 himself known to eminent people, and seeing as much of
 
 1776] BURKE'S STREAM OF MIND 271 
 
 life, and getting as much information as he could in every 
 way, was not yet lessening himself by his forwardness. 
 JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, a man always makes himself greater 
 as he increases his knowledge.' 
 
 I censured some ludicrous fantastick dialogues between 
 two coach-horses and other such stuff, which Baretti had 
 lately published. He joined with me, and said, 'Nothing 
 odd will do long. Tristram Shandy did not last.' I ex- 
 pressed a desire to be acquainted with a lady who had been 
 much talked of, and universally celebrated for extraordinary 
 address and insinuation. JOHNSON. 'Never believe ex- 
 traordinary characters which you hear of people. Depend 
 upon it, Sir, they are exaggerated. You do not see one 
 man shoot a great deal higher than another.' I mentioned 
 Mr. Burke. JOHNSON. 'Yes; Burke is an extraordinary 
 man. His stream of mind is perpetual.' It is very pleas- 
 ing to me to record, that Johnson's high estimation of the 
 talents of this gentleman was uniform from their early ac- 
 quaintance. Sir Joshua Reynolds informs me, that when 
 Mr. Burke was first elected a member of Parliament, and 
 Sir John Hawkins expressed a wonder at his attaining a 
 seat, Johnson said, 'Now we who know Mr. Burke, know, 
 that he will be one of the first men in this country.' And 
 once, when Johnson was ill, and unable to exert himself 
 as much as usual without fatigue, Mr. Burke having been 
 mentioned, he said, 'That fellow calls forth all my powers. 
 Were I to see Burke now ife would kill me.' So much was 
 he accustomed to consider conversation as a contest, and 
 such was his notion of Burke as an opponent. 
 
 Next morning, Thursday, March 21, we set out in a post- 
 chaise to pursue our ramble. It was a delightful day, and 
 we rode through Blenheim park. When I looked at the 
 magnificent bridge built by John Duke of Marlborough, 
 over a small rivulet, and recollected the Epigram made 
 upon it 
 
 ' The lofty arch his high ambition shows, 
 The stream, an emblem of his bounty flows:' 
 
 and saw that now, by the genius of Brown, a magnificent 
 body of water was collected, I said, 'They have drowned the
 
 272 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ma 
 
 Epigram.' I observed to him, while in the midst of the 
 noble scene around us, 'You and I, Sir, have, I think, seen 
 together the extremes of what can be seen in Britain: the 
 wild rough island of Mull, and Blenheim park.' 
 
 We dined at an excellent inn at Chapel-house, where he 
 expatiated on the felicity of England in its taverns and inns, 
 and triumphed over the French for not having, in any per- 
 fection, the tavern life. 'There is no private house, (said 
 he,) in which people can enjoy themselves so well, as at a 
 capital tavern. Let there be ever so great plenty of good 
 things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever 
 so much desire that every body should be easy; in the 
 nature of things it cannot be: there must always be some 
 degree of care and anxiety. The master of the house is 
 anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to 
 be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog 
 indeed, can as freely command what is in another man's 
 house, as if it were his own. Whereas, at a tavern, there 
 is a general freedom from anxiety. You are sure you are 
 welcome: and the more noise you make, the more trouble 
 you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer 
 you are. No servants will attend you with the alacrity 
 which waiters do, who are incited by the prospect of an 
 immediate reward in proportion as they please. No, Sir; 
 there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by 
 which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern 
 or inn.' ] He then repeated, with great emotion, Shenstone's 
 lines : 
 
 'Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round. 
 Where'er his stages may have been, 
 May sigh to think he still has found 
 The warmest welcome at an inn.' 
 
 1 Sir John Hawkins has preserved very few Memorabilia of Johnson. 
 There is, however, to be found, in his bulky tome [p. 87], a very excellent 
 one upon this subject : ' In contradiction to those, who, having a wife 
 and children, prefer domestick enjoyments to those which a tavern 
 affords, I have heard him assert, that a tavern chair was the throne of 
 human felicity. "As soon," said he, "as I enter the door of a tavern, 
 I experience an oblivion of care, and a freedom from solicitude: when
 
 1770] DYER'S FLEECE 273 
 
 In the afternoon, as we were driven rapidly along in the 
 post-chaise, he said to me 'Life has not many things better 
 than this.' 
 
 We stopped at Stratford-upon-Avon, and drank tea and 
 coffee; and it pleased me to be with him upon the classick 
 ground of Shakspeare's native place. 
 
 He spoke slightingly of Dyer's Fleece. 'The subject, Sir, 
 cannot be made poetical. How can a man write poetically 
 of serges and druggets? Yet you will hear many people 
 talk to you gravely of that excellent poem, The Fleece.' 
 Having talked of Grainger's Sugar-Cane, I mentioned to him 
 Mr. Langton's having told me, that this poem, when read 
 in manuscript at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, had made all the 
 assembled wits burst into a laugh, when, after much blank- 
 verse pomp, the poet began a new paragraph thus: 
 
 ' Now, Muse, let's sing of rats.' 
 
 And what increased the ridicule was, that one of the com- 
 pany, who slily overlooked the reader, perceived that the 
 word had been originally mice, and had been altered to rats, 
 as more dignified. 
 
 Johnson said, that Dr. Grainger was an agreeable man; 
 a man who would do any good that was in his power. His 
 translation of Tibuttus, he thought, was very well done; 
 but The Sugar-Cane, a poem, did not please him; for, he 
 exclaimed, 'What could he make of a sugar-cane? One 
 might as well write the "Parsley-bed, a Poem;" or "The 
 Cabbage-garden, a Poem.'" BOSWELL. 'You must then 
 pickle your cabbage with the sal atticum.' JOHNSON. 'You 
 know there is already The Hop-Garden, a Poem: and, I 
 think, one could say a great deal about cabbage. The poem 
 might begin with the advantages of civilized society over a 
 rude state, exemplified by the Scotch, who had no cabbages 
 
 I am seated, I find the master courteous, and the servants obsequious to 
 my call ; anxious to know and ready to supply my wants : wine there 
 exhilarates my spirits, and prompts me to free conversation and an 
 interchange of discourse with those whom I most love: I dogmatise 
 and am contradicted, and in this conflict of opinions and sentiments 
 I flnd delight.'" BOSWELL.
 
 274 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ma 
 
 till Oliver Cromwell's soldiers introduced them; and one 
 might thus shew how arts are propagated by conquest, as 
 they were by the Roman arms.' He seemed to be much 
 diverted with the fertility of his own fancy. 
 
 I told him, that I heard Dr. Percy was writing the history 
 of the wolf in Great-Britain. JOHNSON. ' The wolf, Sir ! 
 why the wolf? Why does he not write of the bear, which 
 we had formerly? Nay, it is said we had the beaver. Or 
 why does he not write of the grey rat, the Hanover rat, as 
 it is called, because it is said to have come into this country 
 about the time that the family of Hanover came ? I should 
 like to see The History of the Grey Rat, by Thomas Percy, 
 D.D., Chaplain in Ordinary to His Majesty,' (laughing im- 
 moderately). BOSWELL. 'I am afraid a court chaplain 
 could not decently write of the grey rat.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 he need not give it the name of the Hanover rat.' Thus 
 could he indulge a luxuriant sportive imagination, when 
 talking of a friend whom he loved and esteemed. 
 
 On Friday, March 22, having set out early from Henley, 
 where we had lain the preceding night, we arrived at Bir- 
 mingham about nine o'clock, and, after breakfast, went to 
 call on his old schoolfellow Mr. Hector. A very stupid 
 maid, who opened the door, told us, that 'her master was 
 gone out; he was gone to the country; she could not tell 
 when he would return.' In short, she gave us a miserable 
 reception; and Johnson observed, 'She would have be- 
 haved no better to people who wanted him in the way of 
 his profession.' He said to her, 'My name is Johnson; 
 tell him I called. Will you remember the name?' She 
 answered with rustick simplicity, in the Warwickshire pro- 
 nunciation, 'I don't understand you, Sir.' 'Blockhead, 
 (said he,) I'll write.' I never heard the word blockhead 
 applied to a woman before, though I do not see why it 
 should not, when there is evident occasion for it. He, how- 
 ever, made another attempt to make her understand him, , 
 and roared loud in her ear, 'Johnson,' and then she catched 
 the sound. 
 
 We next called on Mr. Lloyd, one of the people called 
 Quakers. He too was not at home; but Mrs. Lloyd was,
 
 1776] AT BIRMINGHAM 275 
 
 and received us courteously, and asked us to dinner. John- 
 son said to me, 'After the uncertainty of all human things 
 at Hector's, this invitation came very well.' We walked 
 about the town, and he was pleased to see it increasing. 
 
 Mr. Lloyd joined us in the street; and in a little while 
 we met Friend Hector, as Mr. Lloyd called him. It gave 
 me pleasure to observe the joy which Johnson and he ex- 
 pressed on seeing each other again. Mr. Lloyd and I left 
 them together, while he obligingly shewed me some of the 
 manufactures of this very curious assemblage of artificers. 
 We all met at dinner at Mr. Lloyd's, where we were enter- 
 tained with great hospitality. Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had 
 been married the same year with their Majesties, and like 
 them, had been blessed with a numerous family of fine 
 children, their numbers being exactly the same. Johnson 
 said, 'Marriage is the best state for a man in general; and 
 every man is a worse man, in proportion as he is unfit for 
 the married state.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson said to me in the morning, 'You will see, 
 Sir, at Mr. Hector's, his sister, Mrs. Careless, a clergyman's 
 widow. She was the first woman with whom I was in love. 
 It dropt out of my head imperceptibly; but she and I shall 
 always have a kindness for each other.' He laughed at the 
 notion that a man never can be really in love but once, and 
 considered it as a mere romantick fancy. 
 
 On our return from Mr. Bolton's, Mr. Hector took me to 
 his house, where we found Johnson sitting placidly at tea, 
 with hisjJrsZ love; who, though now advanced in years, was 
 a genteel woman, very agreeable, and well-bred. 
 
 Johnson lamented to Mr. Hector the state of one of their 
 school-fellows, Mr. Charles Congreve, a clergyman, which 
 he thus described: 'He obtained, I believe, considerable 
 preferment in Ireland, but now lives in London, quite as 
 a valetudinarian, afraid to go into any house but his own. 
 He takes a short airing in his post-chaise every day. He 
 has an elderly woman, whom he calls cousin, who lives with 
 him, and jogs his elbow when his glass has stood too long 
 empty, and encourages him in drinking, in which he is very 
 willing to be encouraged; not that he gets drunk, for he is
 
 276 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 a very pious man, but he is always muddy. He confesses 
 to one bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks 
 more. He is quite unsocial; his conversation is quite mono- 
 :syllabical: and when, at my last visit, I asked him what a 
 clo,ek it was? that signal of my departure had so pleasing 
 an effect on him, that he sprung up to look at his watch, 
 like a greyhound bounding at a hare.' When Johnson took 
 leave of Mr. Hector, he said, 'Don't grow like Congreve; 
 nor let me grow like him, when you are near me.' 
 
 When he again talked of Mrs. Careless to-night, he seemed 
 to have had his affection revived; for he said, 'If I had 
 married her, it might have been as happy for me.' BOSWELL. 
 'Pray, Sir, do you not suppose that there are fifty women 
 in the world, with any one of whom a man may be as happy, 
 as with any one woman in particular?' JOHNSON. 'Ay, 
 Sir, fifty thousand.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, you are not 
 of opinion with some who imagine that certain men and cer- 
 tain women are made for each other; and that they cannot 
 be happy if they miss their counterparts?' JOHNSON. 
 'To be sure not, Sir. I believe marriages would in general 
 be as happy, and often more so, if they were all made by the 
 Lord Chancellor, upon a due consideration of characters 
 .and circumstances, without the parties having any choice 
 in the matter.' * 
 
 I wished to have staid at Birmingham to-night, to have 
 talked more with Mr. Hector; but my friend was impatient 
 to reach his native city; so we drove on that stage in the 
 dark, and were long pensive and silent. When we came 
 within the focus of the Lichfield lamps, 'Now (said he,) we 
 .are getting out of a state of death.' We put up at the Three 
 'Crowns, not one of the great inns, but a good old fashioned 
 one, which was kept by Mr. Wilkins, and was the very next 
 house to that in which Johnson was born and brought up, 
 :and which was still his own property. We had a com- 
 fortable supper, and got into high spirits. I felt all my 
 'Toryism glow in this old capital of Staffordshire. I could 
 have offered incense genio loci; and I indulged in libations 
 of that ale, which Boniface, in The Beaux Stratagem, recom- 
 mends with such an eloquent jollity.
 
 1776) PETER GARRICK 277 
 
 Next morning he introduced me to Mrs. Lucy Porter, his 
 step-daughter. She was now an old maid, with much sim- 
 plicity of manner. She had never been in London. Her 
 brother, a Captain in the navy, had left her a fortune of 
 ten thousand pounds; about a third of which she had laid 
 out in building a stately house, and making a handsome 
 garden, in an elevated situation in Lichfield. Johnson, 
 when here by himself, used to live at her house. She rever- 
 enced him, and he had a parental tenderness for her. 
 
 We then visited Mr. Peter Garrick, who had that morning 
 received a letter from his brother David, announcing our 
 coming to Lichfield. He was engaged to dinner, but asked 
 us to tea, and to sleep at his house. Johnson, however, 
 would not quit his old acquaintance Wilkins, of the Three 
 Crowns. The family likeness of the Garricks was very 
 striking; and Johnson thought that David's vivacity was 
 not so peculiar to himself as was supposed. 'Sir, (said he,) 
 I don't know but if Peter had cultivated all the arts of gaiety 
 as much as David has done, he might have been as brisk and 
 lively. Depend upon it, Sir, vivacity is much an art, and 
 depends greatly on habit.' I believe there is a good deal of 
 truth in this, notwithstanding a ludicrous story told me by 
 a lady abroad, of a heavy German baron, who had lived much 
 with the young English at Geneva, and was ambitious to be 
 as lively as they; with which view, he, with assiduous exer- 
 tion, was jumping over the tables and chairs in his lodgings; 
 and when the people of the house ran in and asked, with 
 surprize, what was the matter, he answered, 'Sh' apprens 
 t'etrefif.' 
 
 We dined at our inn, and had with us a Mr. Jackson, one. 
 of Johnson's schoolfellows, whom he treated with much- 
 kindness, though he seemed to be a low man, dull and un- 
 taught. He had a coarse grey coat, black waistcoat, greasy 
 leather breeches, and a yellow uncurled wig; and his coun- 
 tenance had the ruddiness which betokens one who is in no 
 haste to 'leave his can.' He drank only ale. He had tried 
 to be a cutler at Birmingham, but had not succeeded; and 
 now he lived poorly at home, and had some scheme of dress- 
 ing leather in a better manner than common; to his india-
 
 278 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 tinct account of which, Dr. Johnson listened with patient 
 attention, that he might assist him with his advice. Here 
 was an instance of genuine humanity and real kindness in 
 this great man, who has been most unjustly represented as 
 altogether harsh and destitute of tenderness. A thousand 
 such instances might have been recorded in the course of 
 his long life; though that his temper was warm and hasty, 
 and his manner often rough, cannot be denied. 
 
 I saw here, for the first time, oat ale; and oat cakes not 
 hard as in Scotland, but soft like a Yorkshire cake, were 
 served at breakfast. It was pleasant to me to find, that 
 Oafs, the food of horses, were so much used as the food of 
 the people in Dr. Johnson's own town. He expatiated in 
 praise of Lichfield and its inhabitants, who, he said, were 
 'the most sober, decent people in England, the genteelest 
 in proportion to their wealth, and spoke the purest English.' 
 I doubted as to the last article of this eulogy: for they had 
 several provincial sounds; as there, pronounced like fear, 
 instead of like fair; once pronounced woonse, instead of 
 wunse, or wonse. Johnson himself never got entirely free 
 of those provincial accents. Garrick sometimes used to 
 take him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with 
 uncouth gesticulations, looking round the company, and 
 calling out, ' Who's for poonsh ? ' 
 
 Very little business appeared to be going forward in Lich- 
 field. I found however two strange manufactures for so 
 inland a place, sail-cloth and streamers for ships; and I 
 observed them making some saddle-cloths, and dressing 
 ; sheepskins: but upon the whole, the busy hand of industry 
 Deemed to be quite slackened. 'Surely, Sir, (said I,) you 
 rare an idle set of people.' 'Sir, (said Johnson,) we are a 
 city of philosophers, we work with our heads, and make the 
 boobies of Birmingham work for us with their hands.' 
 
 There was at this time a company of players performing 
 at Lichfield. The manager, Mr. Stanton, sent his compli- 
 ments, and begged leave to wait on Dr. Johnson. Johnson 
 received him very courteously, and he drank a glass of wine 
 with us. He was a plain decent well-behaved man, and 
 expressed his gratitude to Dr. Johnson for having once got
 
 1776] MR. GREEN'S MUSEUM 279 
 
 him permission from Dr. Taylor at Ashbourne to play there 
 upon moderate terms. Garrick's name was soon intro- 
 duced. JOHNSON. 'Garrick's conversation is gay and gro- 
 tesque. It is a dish of all sorts, but all good things. There 
 is no solid meat in it: there is a want of sentiment in it. 
 Not but that he has sentiment sometimes, and sentiment, 
 too, very powerful and very pleasing: but it has not its full 
 proportion in his conversation.' 
 
 When we were by ourselves he told me, ' Forty years ago, 
 Sir, I was in love with an actress here, Mrs. Emmet, who 
 acted Flora, in Hob in the Well.' What merit this lady 
 had as an actress, or what was her figure, or her manner, 
 I have not been informed: but, if we may believe Mr. Gar- 
 rick, his old master's taste in theatrical merit was by no 
 means refined; he was not an elegans formarum spectator. 
 Garrick used to tell, that Johnson said of an actor, who played 
 Sir Harry Wildair at Lichfield, 'There is a courtly vivacity 
 about the fellow;' when in fact, according to Garrick's ac- 
 count, 'he was the most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon 
 boards.' 
 
 We had promised Mr. Stanton to be at his theatre on 
 Monday. Dr. Johnson jocularly proposed me to write a 
 Prologue for the occasion: 'A Prologue, by James Boswell, 
 Esq. from the Hebrides.' I was really inclined to take the 
 hint. Methought, 'Prologue, spoken before Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson, at Lichfield, 1776;' would have sounded as well 
 as, 'Prologue, spoken before the Duke of York, at Oxford,' 
 in Charles the Second's time. Much might have been said 
 of what Lichfield had done for Shakspeare, by producing 
 Johnson and Garrick. But I found he was averse to it. 
 
 We went and viewed the museum of Mr. Richard Green, 
 apothecary here, who told me he was proud of being a rela- 
 tion of Dr. Johnson's. It was, truely, a wonderful collec- 
 tion, both of antiquities and natural curiosities, and ingeni- 
 ous works of art. He had all the articles accurately arranged, 
 with their names upon labels, printed at his own little press ; 
 and on the staircase leading to it was a board, with the 
 names of contributors marked in gold letters. A printed 
 catalogue of the collection was to be had at a bookseller's.
 
 280 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 Johnson expressed his admiration of the activity and dili- 
 gence and good fortune of Mr. Green, in getting together, 
 in his situation, so great a variety of things; and Mr. Green 
 told me that Johnson once said to him, 'Sir, I should as 
 soon have thought of building a man of war, as of collect- 
 ing such a museum.' Mr. Green's obliging alacrity in shew- 
 ing it was very pleasing. 
 
 We drank tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, where 
 was Mrs. Aston, one of the maiden sisters of Mrs. Walms- 
 ley, wife of Johnson's first friend, and sister also of the lady 
 of whom Johnson used to speak with the warmest admira- 
 tion, by the name of Molly Aston, who was afterwards 
 married to Captain Brodie of the navy. 
 
 On Sunday, March 24, we breakfasted with Mrs. Cobb, 
 a widow lady, who lived in an agreeable sequestered place 
 close by the town, called the Friary, it having been for- 
 merly a religious house. She and her niece, Miss Adey, 
 were great admirers of Dr. Johnson; and he behaved to 
 them with .a kindness and easy pleasantry, such as we see 
 between old and intimate acquaintance. He accompanied 
 Mrs. Cobb to St. Mary's church, and I went to the cathe- 
 dral, where I was very much delighted with the musick, 
 finding it to be peculiarly solemn and accordant with the 
 words of the service. 
 
 We dined at Mr. Peter Garrick's, who was in a very lively 
 humour, and verified Johnson's saying, that if he had culti- 
 vated gaiety as much as his brother David, he might have 
 equally excelled in it. He was to-day quite a London nar- 
 rator, telling us a variety of anecdotes with that earnest- 
 ness and attempt at mimicry which we usually find in the 
 wits of the metropolis. Dr. Johnson went with me to the 
 cathedral in the afternoon. It was grand and pleasing to 
 contemplate this illustrious writer, now full of fame, wor- 
 shipping in the 'solemn temple' of his native city. 
 
 I returned to tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, and 
 then found Dr. Johnson at the Reverend Mr. Seward's, 
 Canon Residentiary, who inhabited the Bishop's palace, in 
 which Mr. Walmsley lived, and which had been the scene of 
 many happy hours in Johnson's early life.
 
 1776] DEATH OF MR. THRALE'S SON 281 
 
 On Monday, March 25, we breakfasted at Mrs. Lucy 
 Porter's. Johnson had sent an express to Dr. Taylor's, 
 acquainting him of our being at Lichfield, and Taylor had 
 returned an answer that his postchaise should come for us 
 this day. While we sat at breakfast, Dr. Johnson received 
 a letter by the post, which seemed to agitate him very much. 
 When he had read it, he exclaimed, ' One of the most dread- 
 ful things that has happened in my time.' The phrase my 
 time, like the word age, is usually understood to refer to an 
 event of a publick or general nature. I imagined something 
 like an assassination of the King like a gunpowder plot 
 carried into execution or like another fire of London. When 
 asked, 'What is it, Sir?' he answered, 'Mr. Thrale has lost 
 his only son!' This was, no doubt, a very great affliction 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, which their friends would consider 
 accordingly; but from the manner hi which the intelligence 
 of it was communicated by Johnson, it appeared for the 
 moment to be comparatively small. I, however, soon felt 
 a sincere concern, and was curious to observe, how Dr. John- 
 son would be affected. He said, 'This is a total extinction 
 to their family, as much as if they were sold into captiv- 
 ity.' Upon my mentioning that Mr. Thrale had daughters, 
 who might inherit his wealth; 'Daughters, (said Johnson, 
 warmly,) he'll no more value his daughters than ' I was 
 going to speak. 'Sir, (said he,) don't you know how you 
 yourself think? Sir, he wishes to propagate his name.' In 
 short, I saw male succession strong in his mind, even where 
 there was no name, no family of any long standing. I said, 
 it was lucky he was not present when this misfortune hap- 
 pened. JOHNSON. ' It is lucky for me. People in distress 
 never think that you feel enough.' BOSWELL. 'And Sir, 
 they will have the hope of seeing you, which will be a relief 
 in the mean tune; and when you get to them, the pain will 
 be so far abated, that they will be capable of being consoled 
 by you, which, in the first violence of it, I believe, would not 
 be the case.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; violent pain of mind, 
 like violent pain of body, must be severely felt.' BOSWELL. 
 'I own, Sir, I have not so much feeling for the distress of 
 others, as some people have, or pretend to have: but I know
 
 282 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 this, that I would do all in my power to relieve them.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, it is affectation to pretend to feel the distress of 
 others, as much as they do themselves. It is equally so, as 
 if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's 
 leg is cutting off, as he does. No, Sir; you have expressed 
 the rational and just nature of sympathy. I would have 
 gone to the extremity of the earth to have preserved this 
 boy.' 
 
 He was soon quite calm. The letter was from Mr. Thrale's 
 clerk, and concluded, 'I need not say how much they wish 
 to see you in London.' He said, 'We shall hasten back 
 from Taylor's.' 
 
 Mrs. Lucy Porter and some other ladies of the place talked 
 a great deal of him when he was out of the room, not only 
 with veneration but affection. It pleased me to find that he 
 was so much beloved in his native city. 
 
 Mrs. Aston, whom I had seen the preceding night, and her 
 sister, Mrs. Gastrel, a widow lady, had each a house and 
 garden, and pleasure-ground, prettily situated upon Stow- 
 hill, a gentle eminence, adjoining to Lichfield. Johnson 
 walked away to dinner there, leaving me by myself without 
 any apology; I wondered at this want of that facility of 
 manners, from which a man has no difficulty in carrying a 
 friend to a house where he is intimate; I felt it very un- 
 pleasant to be thus left in solitude in a country town, where 
 I was an entire stranger, and began to think myself unkindly 
 deserted; but I was soon relieved, and convinced that my 
 friend, instead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted 
 the matter with perfect propriety, for I received the following 
 note in his handwriting: 'Mrs. Gastrel, at the lower house 
 on Stowhill, desires Mr. Boswell's company to dinner at 
 two.' I accepted of the invitation, and had here another 
 proof how amiable his character was in the opinion of those 
 who knew him best. I was not informed, till afterwards, 
 that Mrs. Gastrel's husband was the clergyman who, while 
 he lived at Stratford upon Avon, where he was proprietor of 
 Shakspeare's garden, with Gothick barbarity cut down his 
 mulberry-tree, and, as Dr. Johnson told me, did it to vex his 
 neighbours. His lady, I have reason to believe, on the same
 
 1776] AT THE PLAY 283 
 
 authority, participated in the guilt of what the enthusiasts 
 for our immortal bard deem almost a species of sacrilege. 
 
 After dinner Dr. Johnson wrote a letter to Mrs. Thrale on 
 the death of her son. I said it would be very distressing to 
 Thrale, but she would soon forget it, as she had so many 
 things to think of. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, Thrale will forget 
 it first. She has many things that she may think of. He 
 has many things that he must think of.' This was a very 
 just remark upon the different effect of those light pursuits 
 which occupy a vacant and easy mind, and those serious 
 engagements which arrest attention, and keep us from brood- 
 ing over grief. 
 
 In the evening we went to the Town-hall, which was con- 
 verted into a temporary theatre, and saw Theodosius, with 
 The Stratford Jubilee. I was happy to see Dr. Johnson sit- 
 ting in a conspicuous part of the pit, and receiving affec- 
 tionate homage from all his acquaintance. We were quite 
 gay and merry. I afterwards mentioned to him that I con- 
 demned myself for being so, when poor Mr. and Mrs. Thrale 
 were in such distress. JOHNSON. 'You are wrong, Sir; 
 twenty years hence Mr. and Mrs. Thrale will not suffer much 
 pain from the death of their son. Now, Sir, you are to con- 
 sider, that distance of place, as well as distance of time, 
 operates upon the human feelings. I would not have you 
 be gay in the presence of the distressed, because it would 
 shock them; but you may be gay at a distance. Pain for 
 the loss of a friend, or of a relation whom we love, is occa- 
 sioned by the want which we feel. In time the vacuity is 
 filled with something else; or sometimes the vacuity closes 
 up of itself.' 
 
 Mr. Seward and Mr. Pearson, another clergyman here, 
 supt with us at our inn, and after they left us, we sat up 
 late as we used to do in London. 
 
 Here I shall record some fragments of my friend's conver- 
 sation during this jaunt. 
 
 ' Marriage, Sir, is much more necessary to a man than to 
 a woman; for he is much less able to supply himself with 
 domestick comforts. You will recollect my saying to some 
 ladies the other day, that I had often wondered why young
 
 284 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 women should marry, as they have so much more freedom, 
 and so much more attention paid to them while unmarried, 
 than when married. I indeed did not mention the strong 
 reason for their marrying the mechanical reason.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'Why, that is a strong one. But does not imagina- 
 tion make it much more important than it is in reality? 
 Is it not, to a certain degree, a delusion in us as well as in 
 women?' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; but it is a delusion 
 that is always beginning again.' BOSWELL. 'I don't know 
 but there is upon the whole more misery than happiness 
 produced by that passion.' JOHNSON. 'I don't think so, 
 Sir.' 
 
 'Never speak of a man in his own presence. It is always 
 indelicate, and may be offensive.' 
 
 'Questioning is not the mode of conversation among gen- 
 tlemen. It is assuming a superiority, and it is particularly 
 wroBg to question a man concerning himself. There may be 
 parts of his former life which he may not wish to be made 
 known to other persons, or even brought to his own recol- 
 lection.' 
 
 'A man should be careful never to tell tales of himself to 
 his own disadvantage. People may be amused and laugh at 
 the time, but they will be remembered, and brought out 
 against him upon some subsequent occasion.' 
 
 * Much may be done if a man puts his whole mind to a 
 particular object. By doing so, Norton has made himself 
 the great lawyer that he is allowed to be.' 
 
 On Tuesday, March 26, there came for us an equipage 
 properly suited to a wealthy well-beneficed clergyman; 
 Dr. Taylor's large roomy post-chaise, drawn by four stout 
 plump horses, and driven by two steady jolly postillions, 
 which conveyed us to Ashbourne; where I found my friend's 
 schoolfellow living upon an establishment perfectly corre- 
 sponding with his substantial creditable equipage: his house, 
 garden, pleasure-grounds, table, in short every thing good, 
 and no scantiness appearing. Every man should form such 
 a plan of living as he can execute completely. Let him not 
 draw an outline wider than he can fill up. I have seen many 
 skeletons of shew and magnificence which excite at onee
 
 1776] DR. TAYLOR 285 
 
 ridicule and pity. Dr. Taylor had a good estate of his own, 
 and good preferment in the church, being a prebendary of 
 Westminster, and rector of Bosworth. He was a diligent 
 justice of the peace, and presided over the town of Ash- 
 bourne, to the inhabitants of which I was told he was very 
 liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he 
 had the preceding winter distributed two hundred pounds 
 among such of them as stood in need of his assistance. He 
 had consequently a considerable political interest in the 
 county of Derby, which he employed to support the Devon- 
 shire family; for though the schoolfellow and friend of John- 
 son, he was a Whig. I could not perceive in his character 
 much congeniality of any sort with that of Johnson, who, 
 however, said to me, 'Sir, he has a very strong understand- 
 ing.' His size, and figure, and countenance, and manner, 
 were that of a hearty English 'Squire, with the parson super- 
 induced: and I took particular notice of his upper servant, 
 Mr. Peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a 
 large white wig. like the butler or major domo of a Bishop. 
 
 Dr. Johnson and Dr. Taylor met with great cordiality; 
 and Johnson soon gave him the same sad account of their 
 school-fellow, Congreve, that he had given to Mr. Hector; 
 adding a remark of such moment to the rational conduct of 
 a man in the decline of life, that it deserves to be imprinted 
 upon every mind: 'There is nothing against which an old 
 man should be so much upon his guard as putting himself to 
 nurse.' Innumerable have been the melancholy instances 
 of men once distinguished for firmness, resolution, and spirit, 
 who in their latter days have been governed like children, by 
 interested female artifice. 
 
 Dr. Taylor commended a physician who was known to 
 him and Dr. Johnson, and said, 'I fight many battles for 
 him, as many people in the country dislike him.' JOHNSON. 
 'But you should consider, Sir, that by every one of your 
 victories he is a loser; for, every man of whom you get the 
 better, will be very angry, and resolve not to employ him; 
 whereas if people get the better of you in argument about 
 him, they'll think, "We'll send for Dr. ****** nevertheless.'" 
 This was an observation deep and sure in human nature.
 
 286 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 Next day, as Dr. Johnson had acquainted Dr. Taylor of 
 the reason for his returning speedily to London, it was re- 
 solved that we should set out after dinner. A few of Dr. 
 Taylor's neighbours were his guests that day. 
 
 Dr. Johnson talked with approbation of one who had at- 
 tained to the state of the philosophical wise man, that is, to 
 have no want of any thing. 'Then, Sir, (said I,) the savage 
 is a wise man.' 'Sir, (said he,) I do not mean simply being 
 without, but not having a want.' I maintained, against 
 this proposition, that it was better to have fine clothes, for 
 instance, than not to feel the want of them. JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir; fine clothes are good only as they supply the 
 want of other means of procuring respect. Was Charles the 
 Twelfth, think you, less respected for his coarse blue coat 
 and black stock ? And you find the King of Prussia dresses 
 plain, because the dignity of his character is sufficient.' I 
 here brought myself into a scrape, for I heedlessly "said > 
 'Would not you, Sir, be the better for velvet and embroi- 
 dery?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you put an end to all argument 
 when you introduce your opponent himself. Have you no 
 better manners? There is your want. 1 I apologised by say- 
 ing, I had mentioned him as an instance of one who wanted 
 as little as any man in the world, and yet, perhaps, might 
 receive some additional lustre from dress. 
 
 Having left Ashbourne in the evening, we stopped to 
 change horses at Derby, and availed ourselves of a moment 
 to enjoy the conversation of my countryman, Dr. Butter, 
 then physician there. He was in great indignation because 
 Lord Mountstuart's bill for a Scotch militia had been lost. 
 Dr. Johnson was as violent against it. 'I am glad, (said he.) 
 that Parliament has had the spirit to throw it out. You 
 wanted to take advantage of the timidity of our scoundrels/ 
 (meaning, I suppose, the ministry). It may be observed, 
 that he used the epithet scoundrel very commonly not quite 
 in the sense in which it is generally understood, but as a 
 strong term of disapprobation; as when he abruptly an- 
 swered Mrs. Thrale, who had asked him how he did, ' Ready 
 to become a scoundrel, Madam; with a little more spoiling 
 you will, I think, make me a complete rascal:' he meant,
 
 1776] DEATH OF A SCHOOLFELLOW 287 
 
 easy to become a capricious and self-indulgent valetudinarian ; 
 a character for which I have heard him express great disgust. 
 We lay this night at Loughborough. 
 
 On Thursday, March 28, we pursued our journey. He 
 said, 'It is commonly a weak man who marries for love.' 
 We then talked of marrying women of fortune; and I men- 
 tioned a common remark, that a man may be, upon the 
 whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very small portion, 
 because a woman of fortune will be proportionally expensive ; 
 whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate 
 in expenses. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this is not 
 true. A woman of fortune being used to the handling of 
 money, spends it judiciously: but a woman who gets the 
 command of money for the first time upon her marriage, 
 has such a gust in spending it, that she throws it away with 
 great profusion.' 
 
 He "praised the ladies of the present age, insisting that they 
 were more faithful to their husbands, and more virtuous in 
 every respect, than in former times, because their under- 
 standings were better cultivated. 
 
 At Leicester we read in the news-paper that Dr. James 
 was dead. I thought that the death of an old school-fellow, 
 and one with whom he had lived a good deal in London, 
 would have affected my fellow-traveller much: but he only 
 said, 'Ah ! poor Jamy.' Afterwards, however, when we were 
 in the chaise, he said, with more tenderness, 'Since I set 
 out on this jaunt, I have lost an old friend and a young one; 
 Dr. James, and poor Harry.' (Meaning Mr. Thrale's son.) 
 
 I enjoyed the luxury of our approach to London, that 
 metropolis which we both loved so much, for the high and 
 varied intellectual pleasure which it furnishes. I experi- 
 enced immediate happiness while whirled along with such a 
 companion, and said to him, 'Sir, you observed one day at 
 General Oglethorpe's, that a man is never happy for the 
 present, but when he is drunk. Will you not add, or when 
 driving rapidly in a post-chaise?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, you 
 fire driving rapidly from something, or to something.' 
 
 Talking of melancholy, he said, 'Some men, and very 
 thinking men too, have not those vexing thoughts. Sir
 
 288 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1775 
 
 Joshua Reynolds is the same all the year round. Beau- 
 clerk, except when ill and in pain, is the same. But I believe 
 most men have them in the degree in which they are capable 
 of having them. If I were in the country, and were dis- 
 tressed by that malady, I would force myself to take a book ; 
 and every time I did it I should find it the easier. Melan- 
 choly, indeed, should be diverted by every means but drink- 
 ing.' 
 
 We stopped at Messieurs Dillys, booksellers in the Poul- 
 try; from whence he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to 
 Mr. Thrale's, in the Borough. I called at his house in the 
 evening, having promised to acquaint Mrs. Williams of his 
 safe return; when, to my surprize, I found him sitting with 
 her at tea, and, as I thought, not in a very good humour: 
 for, it seems, when he had got to Mr. Thrale's, he found the 
 coach was at the door waiting to carry Mrs. and Miss Thrale, 
 and Signor Baretti, their Italian master, to Bath. This was 
 not shewing the attention which might have been expected 
 to the 'Guide, Philosopher, and Friend,' the Imlac who had 
 hastened from the country to console a distressed mother, 
 who he understood was very anxious for his return. They 
 had, I found, without ceremony, proceeded on their intended 
 journey. I was glad to understand from him that it was 
 still resolved that his tour to Italy with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale 
 should take place, of which he had entertained some doubt, 
 on account of the loss which they had suffered; and his 
 doubts afterwards proved to be well-founded. He observed, 
 indeed very justly, that 'their loss was an additional reason 
 for their going abroad; and if it had not been fixed that he 
 should have been one of the party, he would force them out; 
 but he would not advise them unless his advice was asked, 
 lest they might suspect that he recommended what he wished 
 on his own account.' I was not pleased that his intimacy 
 with Mr. Thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed 
 much to his comfort and enjoyment, was not without some 
 degree of restraint: not, as has been grossly suggested, that 
 it was required of him as a task to talk for the entertainment 
 of them and their company; but that he was not quite at his 
 ease; which, however, might partly be owing to his own
 
 1776] OMAI 289 
 
 honest pride that dignity of mind which is always jealous 
 of appearing too compliant. 
 
 On Sunday, March 31, I called on him, and shewed him 
 as a curiosity which I had discovered, his Translation of 
 Lobo's Account of Abyssinia, which Sir John Pringle had lent 
 me, it being then little known as one of his works. He said, 
 'Take no notice of it,' or 'don't talk of it.' He seemed to 
 think it beneath him, though done at six-and-twenty. I 
 said to him, 'Your style, Sir, is much improved since you 
 translated this.' He answered with a sort of triumphant 
 smile, 'Sir, I hope it is.' 
 
 On Wednesday, April 3, in the morning I found him very 
 busy putting his books in order, and as they were generally 
 very old ones, clouds of dust were flying around him. He 
 had on a pair of large gloves such as hedgers use. His pres- 
 ent appearance put me in mind of my uncle, Dr. Boswell's 
 description of him, 'A robust genius, born to grapple with 
 whole libraries.' 
 
 He had been in company with Omai, a native of one of 
 the South Sea Islands, after he had been some time in this 
 country. He was struck with the elegance of his behaviour, 
 and accounted for it thus: 'Sir, he had passed his time, 
 while in England, only in the best company; so that all that 
 he had acquired of our manners was genteel. As a proof of 
 this, Sir, Lord Mulgrave and he dined one day at Streatham; 
 they sat with their backs to the light fronting me, so that I 
 could not see distinctly; and there was so little of the sav- 
 age in Omai. that I was afraid to speak to either, lest I 
 should mistake one for the other.' 
 
 We agreed to dine to-day at the Mitre-tavern, after the 
 rising of the House of Lords, where a branch of the litigation 
 concerning the Douglas Estate, in which I was one of the 
 counsel, was to come on. 
 
 I introduced the topick, which is often ignorantly urged, 
 that the Universities of England are too rich; so that learn- 
 ing does not flourish in them as it would do, if those who 
 teach had smaller salaries, and depended on their assiduity 
 for a great part of their income. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the very 
 reverse of this is the truth; the English Universities are not
 
 290 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 rich enough. Our fellowships are only sufficient to support 
 a, man during his studies to fit him for the world, and ac- 
 cordingly in general they are held no longer than till an 
 opportunity offers of getting away. Now and then, perhaps, 
 there is a fellow who grows old in his college; but this is 
 against his will, unless he be a man very indolent indeed. 
 A hundred a year is reckoned a good fellowship, and that is 
 no more than is necessary to keep a man decently as a 
 scholar. We do not allow our fellows to marry, because we 
 consider academical institutions as preparatory to a settle- 
 ment in the world. It is only by being employed as a tutor, 
 that a fellow can obtain any thing more than a livelihood. 
 To be sure a man, who has enough without teaching, will 
 probably not teach; for we would all be idle if we could. 
 In the same manner, a man who is to get nothing by teach- 
 ing, will not exert himself. Gresham College was intended 
 as a place of instruction for London; able professors were to 
 read lectures gratis, they contrived to have no scholars; 
 whereas, if they had been allowed to receive but sixpence 
 a lecture from each scholar, they would have been emulous 
 to have had many scholars. Every body will agree that it 
 should be the interest of those who teach to have scholars; 
 and this is the case in our Universities. That they are too 
 rich is certainly not true ; for they have nothing good enough 
 to keep a man of eminent learning with them for his life. 
 In the foreign Universities a professorship is a high thing. 
 It is as much almost as a man can make by his learning; 
 and therefore we find the most learned men abroad are in 
 the Universities. It is not so with us. Our Universities 
 are impoverished of learning, by the penury of their pro- 
 visions. I wish there were many places of a thousand a-year 
 at Oxford, to keep first-rate men of learning from quitting 
 the University.' 
 
 I mentioned Mr. Maclaurin's uneasiness on account of a 
 degree of ridicule carelessly thrown on his deceased father, in 
 Goldsmith's History of Animated Nature, in which that cele- 
 brated mathematician is represented as being subject to fits 
 of yawning so violent as to render him incapable of pro- 
 ceeding in his lecture; a story altogether unfounded, but for
 
 1776] THE ROMAN CATHOLIC RELIGION 291 
 
 the publication of which the law would give no reparation. 
 This led us to agitate the question, whether legal redress 
 could be obtained, even when a man's deceased 'relation was 
 calumniated in a publication. 
 
 On Friday, April 5, being Good Friday, after having at- 
 tended the morning service at St. Clement's Church, I walked 
 home with Johnson. We talked of the Roman Catholick 
 religion. JOHNSON. 'In the barbarous ages, Sir, priests 
 and people were equally deceived; but afterwards there 
 were gross corruptions introduced by the clergy, such as in- 
 dulgencies to priests to have concubines, and the worship 
 of images, not, indeed, inculcated, but knowingly permitted.' 
 He strongly censured the licensed stews at Rome. BOSWELL. 
 'So then, Sir, you would allow of no irregular intercourse 
 whatever between the sexes?' JOHNSON. 'To be sure I 
 would not, Sir. I would punish it much more than it is 
 done, and so restrain it. In all countries there has been 
 fornication, as in all countries there has been theft; but 
 there may be more or less of the one, as well as of the other, 
 in proportion to the force of law. All men will naturally 
 commit fornication, as all men will naturally steal. And, 
 Sir, it is very absurd to argue, as has been often done, that 
 prostitutes are necessary to prevent the violent effects of 
 appetite from violating the decent order of life ; nay, should 
 be permitted, in order to preserve the chastity of our wives 
 and daughters. Depend upon it, Sir, severe laws, steadily 
 enforced, would be sufficient against those evils, and would 
 promote marriage.' 
 
 Mr. Thrale called upon him, and appeared to bear the loss 
 of his son with a manly composure. There was no affecta- 
 tion about him; and he talked, as usual, upon indifferent 
 subjects. He seemed to me to hesitate as to the intended 
 Italian tour, on which, I flattered myself, he and Mrs. Thrale 
 and Dr. Johnson were soon to set out; and, therefore, I 
 pressed it as much as I could. I mentioned, that Mr. Beau- 
 clerk had said, that Baretti, whom they were to carry with 
 them, would keep them so long in the little towns of his own 
 district, that they would not have time to see Rome. I 
 mentioned this, to put them on their guard. JOHNSON.
 
 292 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 'Sir, we do not thank Mr. Beauclerk for supposing that we 
 are to be directed by Baretti. No, Sir; Mr. Thrale is to go, 
 by my advice, to Mr. Jackson, (the all-knowing) and get 
 from him a plan for seeing the most that can be seen in the 
 time that we have to travel. We must, to be sure, see 
 Rome, Naples, Florence, and Venice, and as much more as 
 we can.' (Speaking with a tone of animation.) 
 
 When I expressed an earnest wish for his remarks on Italy, 
 he said, 'I do not see that I could make a book upon Italy; 
 yet I should be glad to get two hundred pounds, or five hun- 
 dred pounds, by such a work.' This shewed both that a 
 journal of his Tour upon the Continent was not wholly out 
 of his contemplation, and that he uniformly adhered to 
 that strange opinion, which his indolent disposition made 
 him utter: 'No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for 
 money.' Numerous instances to refute this will occur to all 
 who are versed in the history of literature. 
 
 He gave us one of the many sketches of character which 
 were treasured in his mind, and which he was wont to pro- 
 duce quite unexpectedly in a very entertaining manner. 
 'I lately, (said he,) received a letter from the East Indies, 
 from a gentleman whom I formerly knew very well; he had 
 returned from that country with a handsome fortune, as it 
 was reckoned, before means were found to acquire those 
 immense sums which have been brought from thence of late ; 
 he was a scholar, and an agreeable man, and lived very 
 prettily in London, till his wife died. After her death, he 
 took to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he had. One 
 evening he lost a thousand pounds to a gentleman whose 
 name I am sorry I have forgotten. Next morning he sent 
 the gentleman five hundred pounds, with an apology that it 
 was all he had in the world. The gentleman sent the money 
 back to him, declaring he would not accept of it; and adding, 
 
 that if Mr. had occasion for five hundred pounds 
 
 more, he would lend it to him. He resolved to go out again 
 to the East Indies, and make his fortune anew. He got a 
 considerable appointment, and I had some intention of ac- 
 companying him. Had I thought then as I do now, I should 
 have gone: but, at that time, I had objections to .quitting 
 England.'
 
 1776] SKETCHES OF CHARACTER 293 
 
 It was a very remarkable circumstance about Johnson, 
 whom shallow observers have supposed to have been igno- 
 rant of the world, that very few men had seen greater variety 
 of characters; and none could observe them better, as was 
 evident from the strong, yet nice portraits which he often 
 drew. I have frequently thought that if he had made out 
 what the French call une catalogue raisonnee of all the peo- 
 ple who had passed under his observation, it would have 
 afforded a very rich fund of instruction and entertainment. 
 The suddenness with which his accounts of some of them 
 started out in conversation, was not less pleasing than sur- 
 prizing. I remember he once observed to me, ' It is wonder- 
 ful, Sir, what is to be found in London. The most literary 
 conversation that I ever enjoyed, was at the table of Jack 
 Ellis, a money-scrivener -behind the Royal Exchange, with 
 whom I at one period used to dine generally once a 
 week.' 
 
 Volumes would be required to contain a list of his numerous 
 and various acquaintance, none of whom he ever forgot; 
 and could describe and discriminate them all with precision 
 and vivacity. He associated with persons the most widely 
 different in manners, abilities, rank, and accomplishments. 
 He was at once the companion of the brilliant Colonel For- 
 rester of the Guards, who wrote The Polite Philosopher, 
 and of the aukward and uncouth Robert Levet; of Lord 
 Thurlow, and Mr. Sastres, the Italian master; and has 
 dined one day with the beautiful, gay, and fascinating Lady 
 Craven, and the next with good Mrs. Gardiner, the tallow- 
 chandler, on Snow-hill. 
 
 On my expressing my wonder at his discovering so much 
 of the knowledge peculiar to different professions, he told 
 me, 'I learnt what I know of law, chiefly from Mr. Ballow, 
 a very able man. I learnt some, too, from Chambers; but 
 was not so teachable then. One is not willing to be taught 
 by a young man.' When I expressed a wish to know more 
 about Mr. Ballow, Johnson said, 'Sir, I have seen him but 
 once these twenty years. The tide of life has driven us 
 different ways.' I was sorry at the time to hear this; but 
 whoever quits the creeks of private connections, and fairly
 
 294 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [m<j 
 
 gets into the great ocean of London, will, by imperceptible 
 degrees, unavoidably experience such cessations of acquain- 
 tance. 
 
 'My knowledge of physick, (he added,) I learnt from Dr. 
 James, whom I helped in writing the proposals for his Dic- 
 tionary and also a little in the Dictionary itself. I also learnt 
 from Dr. Lawrence, but was then grown more stubborn.' 
 
 A curious incident happened to-day, while Mr. Thrale and 
 I sat with him. Francis announced that a large packet was 
 brought to him from the post-office, said to have come from 
 Lisbon, and it was charged seven pounds ten shillings. He 
 would not receive it, supposing it to be some trick, nor did he 
 even look at it. But upon enquiry afterwards he found that 
 it was a real packet for him, from that very friend in the 
 East Indies of whom he had been speaking; and the ship 
 which carried it having come to Portugal, this packet, with 
 others, had been put into the post-office at Lisbon. 
 
 I mentioned a new gaming-club, of which Mr. Beauclerk 
 had given me an account, where the members played to a 
 desperate extent. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this is 
 mere talk. Who is ruined by gaming? You will not find 
 six instances in an age. There is a strange rout made about 
 deep play: whereas you have many more people ruined by 
 adventurous trade, and yet we do not hear such an outcry 
 against it.' THRALE. ' There may be few people absolutely 
 ruined by deep play; but very many are much hurt in their 
 circumstances by it.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and so are very 
 many by other kinds of expence.' I had heard him talk once 
 before in the same manner; and at Oxford he said, 'he 
 wished he had learnt to play at cards.' The truth, however, 
 is, that he loved to display his ingenuity in argument; and 
 therefore would sometimes in conversation maintain opin- 
 ions which he was sensible were wrong, but in supporting 
 which, his reasoning and wit would be most conspicuous. 
 He would begin thus: 'Why, Sir, as to the good or evil of 
 card-playing ' 'Now, (said Garrick,) he is thinking which 
 side he shall take.' He appeared to have a pleasure in con- 
 tradiction, especially when any opinion whatever was deliv- 
 ered with an air of confidence; so that there was hardly
 
 17761 ON MARRIAGE 295 
 
 any topick, if not one of the great truths of Religion and 
 Morality, that he might not have been incited to argue, 
 either for or against. Lord Elibank had the highest admira- 
 tion of his powers. He once observed to me, 'Whatever 
 opinion Johnson maintains, I will not say that he convinces 
 me; but he never fails to shew me, that he has good reasons 
 for it.' I have heard Johnson pay his Lordship this high 
 compliment: 'I never was in Lord Elibank's company with- 
 out learning something.' 
 
 We sat together till it was too late for the afternoon 
 service. Thrale said he had come with intention to go to 
 church with us. We went at seven to evening prayers at 
 St. Clement's church, after having drank coffee; an indul- 
 gence, which I understood Johnson yielded to on this occa- 
 sion, in compliment to Thrale. 
 
 On Sunday, April 7, Easter-day, after having been at St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, I came to Dr. Johnson, according to my 
 usual custom. It seemed to me, that there was always 
 something peculiarly mild and placid in his manner upon 
 this holy festival, the commemoration of the most joyful 
 event in the history of our world, the resurrection of our 
 LORD and SAVIOUR, who, having triumphed over death and 
 the grave, proclaimed immortality to mankind. 
 
 I repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquain- 
 tance, who maintained, that her husband's having been 
 guilty of numberless infidelities, released her from conjugal 
 obligations, because they were reciprocal. JOHNSON. 'This 
 is miserable stuff, Sir. To the contract of marriage, besides 
 the man and wife, there is a third party Society; and if it 
 be considered as a vow GOD: and, therefore, it cannot be 
 dissolved by their consent alone. Laws are not made for 
 particular cases, but for men in general. A woman may be 
 unhappy with her husband; but she cannot be freed from 
 him without the approbation of the civil and ecclesiastical 
 power. A man may be unhappy, because he is not so rich 
 as another; but he is not to seize upon another's property 
 with his own hand.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, this lady does 
 not want that the contract should be dissolved; she only 
 argues that she may indulge herself in gallantries with equal
 
 296 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 freedom as her husband does, provided she takes care not 
 to introduce a spurious issue into his family. You know, 
 Sir, what Macrobius has told us of Julia.' JOHNSON. 'This 
 lady of yours, Sir, I think, is very fit for a brothel.' 
 
 Mr. Macbean, authour of the Dictionary of ancient Geog- 
 raphy, came in. He mentioned that he had been forty 
 years absent from Scotland. 'Ah, Bos well! (said Johnson, 
 smiling,) what would you give to be forty years from Scot- 
 land ? ' I said, ' I should not like to be so long absent from 
 the seat of my ancestors.' This gentleman, Mrs. Williams, 
 and Mr. Levet, dined with us. 
 
 Mrs. Williams was very peevish; and I wondered at John- 
 son's patience with her now, as I had often done on similar 
 occasions. The truth is, that his humane consideration of 
 the forlorn and indigent state in which this lady was left 
 by her father, induced him to treat her with the utmost 
 tenderness, and even to be desirous of procuring her amuse- 
 ment, so as sometimes to incommode many of his friends, 
 by carrying her with him to their houses, where, from 
 her manner of eating, in consequence of her blindness, she 
 could not but offend the delicacy of persons of nice sensa- 
 tions. 
 
 After coffee, we went to afternoon service in St. Clement's 
 church. Observing some beggars in the street as we walked 
 along, I said to him I supposed there was no civilized coun- 
 try in the world, where the misery of want in the lowest 
 classes of the people was prevented. JOHNSON. 'I believe, 
 Sir, there is not; but it is better that some should be unhappy, 
 than that none should be happy, which would be the case 
 in a general state of equality.' 
 
 When the service was ended, I went home with him, and 
 we sat quietly by ourselves. 
 
 Upon the question whether a man who had been guilty of 
 vicious actions would do well to force himself into solitude 
 and sadness; JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, unless it prevent him 
 from being vicious again. With some people, gloomy peni- 
 tence is only madness turned upside down. A man may be 
 gloomy, till, in order to be relieved from gloom, he has re- 
 course again to criminal indulgencies.'
 
 1776] CHILDREN IN COMPANY 297 
 
 On Wednesday, April 10, 1 dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, 
 where were Mr. Murphy and some other company. Before 
 dinner, Dr. Johnson and I passed some time by ourselves. 
 I was sorry to find it was now resolved that the proposed 
 journey to Italy should not take place this year. He said, 
 'I am disappointed, to be sure; but it is not a great disap- 
 pointment.' I wondered to see him bear, with a philosoph- 
 ical calmness, what would have made most people peevish 
 and fretful. I perceived, however, that he had so warmly 
 cherished the hope of enjoying classical scenes, that he could 
 not easily part with the scheme; for he said: 'I shall prob- 
 ably contrive to get to Italy some other way. But I won't 
 mention it to' Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, as it might vex them.' 
 I suggested, that going to Italy might have done Mr. and 
 Mrs. Thrale good. JOHNSON. 'I rather believe not, Sir. 
 While grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. 
 You must wait till grief be digested, and then amusement 
 will dissipate the remains of it.' 
 
 I said, I disliked the custom which some people had of 
 bringing then* children into company, because it in a manner 
 forced us to pay foolish compliments to please their parents. 
 JOHNSON. ' You are right, Sir. We may be excused for not 
 caring much about other people's children, for there are 
 many who care very little about their own children. It may 
 be observed, that men, who from being engaged in business, 
 or from their course of life in whatever way, seldom see their 
 children, do not care much about them. I myself should 
 not have had much fondness for a child of my own.' MRS. 
 THRALE. 'Nay, Sir, how can you talk so?' JOHNSON. 
 'At least, I never wished to have a child.' 
 
 He talked of Lord Lyttelton's extreme anxiety as an 
 authour; observing, that 'he was thirty years in preparing 
 his History, and that he employed a man to point it for him ; 
 as if (laughing) another man could point his sense better 
 than himself.' Mr. Murphy said, he understood his history 
 was kept back several years for fear of Smollet. JOHNSON. 
 'This seems strange to Murphy and me, who never felt that 
 anxiety, but sent what we wrote to the press, and let it take 
 its chance.' MRS. THRALE. 'The time has been, Sir, when
 
 298 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 you felt it.' JOHNSON. 'Why, really, Madam, I do not 
 recollect a time when that was the case.' 
 
 On Thursday, April 11,1 dined with him at General Paoli's. 
 in whose house I now resided, and where I had ever after- 
 wards the honour of being entertained with the kindest 
 attention as his constant guest, while I was in London, till 
 I had a house of my own there. I mentioned my having 
 that morning introduced to Mr. Garrick, Count Neni, a 
 Flemish Nobleman of great rank and fortune, to whom Gar- 
 rick talked of Abel Drugger as a small part; and related, 
 with pleasant vanity, that a Frenchman who had seen him 
 in one of his low characters, exclaimed, ' Comment ! je ne le 
 crois pas. Ce n'est pas Monsieur Garrick, ce Grand Homme ! ' 
 Garrick added, with an appearance of grave recollection, 'If 
 I were to begin life again, I think I should not play those 
 low characters.' Upon which I observed, 'Sir, you would be 
 in the wrong; for your great excellence is your variety of 
 playing, your representing so well, characters so very dif- 
 ferent.' JOHNSON. 'Garrick, Sir, was not in earnest in 
 what he said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is his 
 variety; and, perhaps, there is not any one character which 
 has not been as well acted by somebody else, as he could do 
 it.' BOSWELL. 'Why then, Sir, did he talk so?' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, to make you answer as you did.' BOSWELL. 
 'I don't know, Sir; he seemed to dip deep into his mind for 
 the reflection.' JOHNSON. 'He had not far to dip, Sir: he 
 said the same thing, probably, twenty times before.' 
 
 Of a nobleman raised at a very early period to high office, 
 he said, 'His parts, Sir, are pretty well for a Lord; but would 
 not be distinguished in a man who had nothing else but his 
 parts.' 
 
 A journey to Italy was still in his thoughts. He said, 
 'A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an 
 inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a 
 man should see. The grand object of travelling is to see the 
 shores of the Mediterranean. On those shores were the four 
 great Empires of the world; the Assyrian, the Persian, the 
 Grecian, and the Roman. All our religion, almost all our 
 law, almost all our arts, almost all that sets us above sav-
 
 1776] GOLDSMITH AND DODSLEY 299 
 
 ages, has come to us from the shores of the Mediterranean.' 
 The General observed, that ' THE MEDITERRANEAN would be 
 a noble subject for a poem.' 
 
 We talked of translation. I said, I could not define it, 
 nor could I think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it 
 appeared to me the translation of poetry could be only imi- 
 tation. JOHNSON. 'You may translate books of science 
 exactly. You may also translate history, in so far as it is 
 not embellished with oratory, which is poetical. Poetry, 
 indeed, cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets 
 that preserve languages; for we would not be at the trouble 
 to learn a language, if we could have all that is written in 
 it just as well in a translation. But as the beauties of 
 poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in 
 which it was originally written, we learn the language.' 
 
 'Goldsmith (he said,) referred every thing to vanity; his 
 virtues, and his vices too, were from that motive. He was 
 not a social man. He never exchanged mind with you.' 
 
 We spent the evening at Mr. Hoole's. Mr. Mickle, the 
 excellent translator of The Lusiad, was there. I have pre- 
 served little of the conversation of this evening. Dr. John- 
 son said, 'Thomson had a true poetical genius, the power of 
 viewing every thing in a poetical light. His fault is such 
 a cloud of words sometimes, that the sense can hardly peep 
 through. Shiels, who compiled Cibber's Lives of the Poets, 
 was one day sitting with me. I took down Thomson, and 
 read aloud a large portion of him, and then asked, Is not 
 this fine? Shiels having expressed the highest admiration. 
 Well, Sir, (said I,) I have omitted every other line.' 
 
 I related a dispute between Goldsmith and Mr. Robert 
 Dodsley, one day when they and I were dining at Tom 
 Davies's, in 1762. Goldsmith asserted, that there was no 
 poetry produced in this age. Dodsley appealed to his own 
 Collection, and maintained, that though you could not find 
 a palace like Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, you had 
 villages composed of very pretty houses; and he mentioned 
 particularly The Spleen. JOHNSON. 'I think Dodsley gave 
 up the question. He and Goldsmith said the same thing; 
 only he said it in a softer manner than Goldsmith did; for
 
 300 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 he acknowledged that there was no poetry, nothing that 
 towered above the common mark. You may find wit and 
 humour in verse, and yet no poetry. Hudibras has a pro- 
 fusion of these; yet it is not to be reckoned a poem. The 
 Spleen, in Dodsley's Collection, on which you say he chiefly 
 rested, is not poetry.' BOSWELL. 'Does not Gray's poetry, 
 Sir, tower above the common mark?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; 
 but we must attend to the difference between what men in 
 general cannot do if they would, and what every man may 
 do if he would. Sixteen-string Jack 1 towered above the 
 common mark.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, what is poetry?' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is much easier to say what it is 
 not. We all know what light is; but it is not easy to tell 
 what it is.' 
 
 On Friday, April 12, I dined with him at our friend Tom 
 Davies's. He reminded Dr. Johnson of Mr. Murphy's hav- 
 ing paid him the highest compliment that ever was paid to 
 a layman, by asking his pardon for repeating some oaths in 
 the course of telling a story. 
 
 Johnson and I supt this evening at the Crown and Anchor 
 tavern, in company with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langtos, 
 Mr. Nairne, now one of the Scotch Judges, with the title of 
 Lord Dunsinan, and my very worthy friend, Sir William 
 Forbes, of Pitsligo. 
 
 We discussed the question whether drinking improved 
 conversation and benevolence. Sir Joshua maintained it 
 did. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir: before dinner men meet with 
 great inequality of understanding; and those who are con- 
 scious of their inferiority, have the modesty not to talk. 
 When they have drunk wine, every man feels himself happy, 
 and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous: 
 but he is not improved; he is only not sensible of his defects.' 
 Sir Joshua said the Doctor was talking of the effects of ex- 
 cess in wine} but that a moderate glass enlivened the mind, 
 by giving a proper circulation to the blood. 'I am (said he,) 
 
 1 A noted highwayman, who after having been several times tried 
 and acquitted, was at last hanged. He was remarkable for foppery 
 in his dress, and particularly for wearing a bunch of sixteen strings 
 at the kneee of his breeches. BOSWELL.
 
 1776] WINE AND TALK 301 
 
 in very good spirits, when I get up in the morning. By din- 
 ner-time I am exhausted; wine puts me in the same state as 
 when I got up; and I am sure that moderate drinking makes 
 people talk better.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; wine gives not 
 light, gay, ideal hilarity; but tumultuous, noisy, clamorous 
 merriment. I have heard none of those drunken, nay, 
 drunken is a coarse word, none of those vinous flights.' 
 SIR JOSHUA. 'Because you have sat by, quite sober, and 
 felt an envy of the happiness of those who were drinking.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Perhaps, contempt. And, Sir, it is not neces- 
 sary to be drunk one's self, to relish the wit of drunkenness. 
 Do we not judge of the drunken wit, of the dialogue between 
 lago and Cassio, the most excellent in its kind, when we are 
 quite sober? Wit is wit, by whatever means it is produced; 
 and, if good, will appear so at all times. I admit that the 
 spirits are raised by drinking, as by the common participa- 
 tion of any pleasure: cock-fighting, or bear-baiting, will 
 raise the spirits of a company, as drinking does, though 
 surely they will not improve conversation. I also admit, 
 that there are some sluggish men who are improved by 
 drinking; as there are fruits which are not good till they are 
 rotten. There are such men, but they are medlars. I in- 
 deed allow that there have been a very few men of talents 
 who were improved by drinking; but I maintain that I am 
 right as to the effects of drinking in general: and let it be 
 considered, that there is no position, however false in its 
 universality, which is not true of some particular man.' Sir 
 William Forbes said, ' Might not a man warmed with wine be 
 like a bottle of beer, which is made brisker by being set before 
 the fire?' 'Nay, (said Johnson, laughing,) I cannot answer 
 that: that is too much for me.' 
 
 I observed, that wine did some people harm, by inflaming, 
 confusing, and irritating their minds; but that the experi- 
 ence of mankind had declared in favour of moderate drink- 
 ing. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I do not say it is wrong to produce 
 self complacency by drinking; I only deny that it improves 
 the mind. When I drank wine, I scorned to drink it when 
 in company. I have drunk many a bottle by myself; in 
 the first place, because I had need of it to raise my spirits;
 
 302 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 11776 
 
 in the second place, because I would have nobody to witness 
 its effects upon me.' 
 
 He told us, ' almost all his Ramblers were written just as 
 they were wanted for the press; that he sent a certain por- 
 tion of the copy of an essay, and wrote the remainder, while 
 the former part of it was printing. When it was wanted, 
 and he had fairly sat down to it, he was sure it would be 
 done.' 
 
 He said, that for general improvement, a man should read 
 whatever his immediate inclination prompts him to; though, 
 to be sure, if a man has a science to learn, he must regularly 
 and resolutely advance. He added, 'what we read with 
 inclination makes a much stronger impression. If we read 
 without inclination, half the mind is employed in fixing the 
 attention; so there is but one half to be employed on what 
 we read.' He told us, he read Fielding's Amelia through 
 without stopping. He said, 'if a man begins to read in the 
 middle of a book, and feels an inclination to go on, let him 
 not quit it, to go to the beginning. He may perhaps not feel 
 again the inclination.' 
 
 Soon after this day, he went to Bath with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Thrale. I had never seen that beautiful city, and wished 
 to take the opportunity of visiting it, while Johnson was 
 there. 
 
 On the 26th of April, I went to Bath; and on my arrival 
 at the Pelican inn, found lying for me an obliging invitation 
 from Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, by whom I was agreeably enter- 
 tained almost constantly during my stay. They were gone 
 to the rooms; but there was a kind note from Dr. Johnson, 
 that he should sit at home all the evening. I went to him 
 directly, and before Mr. and Mrs. Thrale returned, we had 
 by ourselves some hours of tea-drinking and talk. 
 
 I shall group together such of his sayings as I preserved 
 during the few days that I was at Bath. 
 
 It having been mentioned, I know not with what truth, 
 that a certain female political writer, whose doctrines he dis- 
 liked, had of late become very fond of dress, sat hours to- 
 gether at her toilet, and even put on rouge: JOHNSON. 
 'She is better employed at her toilet, than using her pen.
 
 1776] AT BRISTOL 303 
 
 It is better she should be reddening her own cheeks, than 
 blackening other people's characters.' 
 
 He would not allow me to praise a lady then at Bath ; ob- 
 serving, 'She does not gain upon me, Sir; I think her empty- 
 headed.' He was, indeed, a stern critick upon characters 
 and manners. Even Mrs. Thrale did not escape his friendly 
 animadversion at times. When he and I were one day 
 endeavouring to ascertain, article by article, how one of our 
 friends could possibly spend as much money in his family 
 as he told us he did, she interrupted us by a lively extrav- 
 agant sally, on the expence of clothing his children, describ- 
 ing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful manner. Johnson 
 looked a little angry, and said, ' Nay, Madam, when you are 
 declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, cal- 
 culate.' At another time, when she said, perhaps affectedly, 
 'I don't like to fly.' JOHNSON. 'With your wings, Madam, 
 you must fly: but have a care, there are dippers abroad.' 
 
 On Monday, April 29, he and I made an excursion to 
 Bristol, where I was entertained with seeing him enquire 
 upon the spot, into the authenticity of 'Rowley's Poetry/ 
 as I had seen him enquire upon the spot into the authenticity 
 of 'Ossian's Poetry.' George Catcot, the pewterer, who was 
 as zealous for Rowley, as Dr. Hugh Blah- was for Ossian, 
 (I trust my Reverend friend will excuse the comparison,) 
 attended us at our inn, and with a triumphant air of lively 
 simplicity called out, Til make Dr. Johnson a convert/ 
 Dr. Johnson, at his desire, read aloud some of Chatterton's 
 fabricated verses, while Catcot stood at the back of his chair, 
 moving himself like a pendulum, and beating time with his 
 feet, and now and then looking into Dr. Johnson's face, 
 wondering that he was not yet convinced. We called on Mr. 
 Barret, the surgeon, and saw some of the originals as they 
 were called, which were executed very artificially; but from 
 a careful inspection of them, and a consideration of the cir- 
 cumstances with which they were attended, we were quite sat- 
 isfied of the imposture, which, indeed, has been clearly dem- 
 onstrated from internal evidence, by several able criticks. 
 
 Honest Catcot seemed to pay no attention whatever to 
 any objections, but insisted, as an end of all controversy,
 
 304 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 that we should go with him to the tower of the church of 
 St. Mary, Redcliff, and view with our own eyes the ancient 
 chest in which the manuscripts were found. To this, Dr. 
 Johnson good-naturedly agreed; and though troubled with a 
 shortness of breathing, laboured up a long flight of steps, 
 till we came to the place where the wonderous chest stood. 
 'There, (said Catcot, with a bouncing confident credulity,) 
 there is the very chest itself.' After this ocular demonstration, 
 there was no more to be said; He brought to my recollec- 
 tion a Scotch Highlander, a man of learning too, and who 
 had seen the world, attesting, and at the same time giving 
 his reasons for the authenticity of Fingal: 'I have heard 
 all that poem when I was young.' 'Have you, Sir? Pray 
 what have you heard?' 'I have heard Ossian, Oscar, and 
 every one of them.' 
 
 Johnson said of Chatterton, 'This is the most extraor- 
 dinary young man that has encountered my knowledge. It 
 is wonderful how the whelp has written such things.' 
 
 We were by no means pleased with our inn at Bristol. 
 'Let us see now, (said I,) how we should describe it.' John- 
 son was ready with his raillery. 'Describe it, Sir? Why, it 
 was so bad that Boswell wished to be in Scotland ! ' 
 
 After Dr. Johnson's return to London, I was several times 
 with him at his house, where I occasionally slept, in the 
 room that had been assigned to me. I dined with him at 
 Dr. Taylor's, at General Oglethorpe's, and at General Paoli's. 
 To avoid a tedious minuteness, I shall group together what 
 I have preserved of his conversation during this period also, 
 without specifying each scene where it passed, except one, 
 which will be found so remarkable as certainly to deserve 
 a very particular relation. 
 
 'Garrick (he observed,) does not play the part of Archer 
 in The Beaux Stratagem well. The gentleman should break 
 out through the footman, which is not the case as he does it.' 
 
 'That man is never happy for the present is so true, that 
 all his relief from unhappiness is only forgetting himself for 
 a little while. Life is a progress from want to want, not 
 from enjoyment to enjoyment.' 
 
 'Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, I think, might be
 
 1776] LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 305 
 
 made a very pretty book. Take out the immorality, and it 
 should be put into the hands of every young gentleman. An 
 elegant manner and easiness of behaviour are acquired grad- 
 ually and imperceptibly. No man can say "I'll be genteel." 
 There are ten genteel women for one genteel man, because 
 they are more restrained. A man without some degree of 
 restraint is insufferable; but we are all less restrained than 
 women. Were a woman sitting in company to put out her 
 legs before her as most men do, we should be tempted to 
 kick them in.' 
 
 No man was a more attentive and nice observer of beha- 
 viour in those in whose company he happened to be, than 
 Johnson; or, however strange it may seem to many, had 
 a higher estimation of its refinements. Lord Eliot informs 
 me, that one day when Johnson and he were at dinner at 
 a gentleman's house in London, upon Lord Chesterfield's 
 Letters being mentioned, Johnson surprized the company by 
 this sentence: 'Every man of any education would rather 
 be called a rascal, than accused of deficiency, in the graces.' 
 Mr. Gibbon, who was present, turned to a lady who knew 
 Johnson well, and lived much with him, and in his quaint 
 manner, tapping his box, addressed her thus: 'Don't you 
 think, Madam, (looking towards Johnson,) that among all 
 your acquaintance, you could find one exception?' The 
 lady smiled, and seemed to acquiesce. 
 
 The uncommon vivacity of General Oglethorpe's mind, 
 and variety of knowledge, having sometimes made his con- 
 versation seem too desultory, Johnson observed, ' Oglethorpe, 
 Sir, never completes what he has to say.' 
 
 He on the same account made a similar remark on Patrick 
 Lord Elibank: 'Sir, there is nothing conclusive in his talk.' 
 
 When I complained of having dined at a splendid table 
 without hearing one sentence of conversation worthy of 
 being remembered, he said, 'Sir, there seldom is any such 
 conversation.' BOSWELL. 'Why then meet at table?' 
 JOHNSON. ' Why, to eat and drink together, and to promote 
 kindness; and, Sir, this is better done when there is no solid 
 conversation; for when there is, people differ in opinion, 
 and get into bad humour, or some of the company who are
 
 306 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 not capable of such conversation, are left out, and feel them- 
 selves uneasy. It was for this reason, Sir Robert Walpole 
 said, he always - talked bawdy at his table, because in that 
 all could join.' 
 
 Being irritated by hearing a gentleman 1 ask Mr. Levett 
 a variety of questions concerning him, when he was sitting 
 by, he broke out, 'Sir, you have but two topicks, yourself 
 and me. I am sick of both.' 'A man, (said he,) should not 
 talk of himself, nor much of any particular person. He 
 should take care not to be made a proverb; and, therefore, 
 should avoid having any one topick of which people can say, 
 "We shall hear him upon it." There was a Dr. Oldfield, 
 who was always talking of the Duke of Marlborough. He 
 came into a coffee-house one day, and told that his Grace 
 had spoken in the House of Lords for half an hour. "Did he 
 indeed speak for half an hour?" (said Belchier, the surgeon,) 
 "Yes." "And what did he say of Dr. Oldfield?" 
 "Nothing." "Why then, Sir, he was very ungrateful; for 
 Dr. Oldfield could not have spoken for a quarter of an hour, 
 without saying something of him." ' 
 
 I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. John- 
 son's Life, which fell under my own observation; of which 
 pars magna fui, and which I am persuaded will, with the 
 liberal-minded, be much to his credit. 
 
 My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of 
 every description, had made me, much about the same tune, 
 obtain an introduction to Dr. Samuel Johnson and to John 
 Wilkes, Esq. Two men more different could perhaps not be 
 selected out of all mankind. They had even attacked one 
 another with some asperity in their writings ; yet I lived in 
 habits of friendship with both. I could fully relish the ex- 
 cellence of each; for I have ever delighted in that intellec- 
 tual chymistry, which can separate good qualities from evil 
 in the same person. 
 
 Sir John Pringle, 'mine own friend and my Father's 
 friend/ between whom and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished to 
 establish an acquaintance, as I respected and lived in in- 
 timacy with both of them, observed to me once, very in- 
 
 1 Most likely Boswell himself. HILL.
 
 17761 SIR JOHN PRINGLE 307 
 
 geniously, ' It is not in friendship as in mathematicks, where 
 two things, each equal to a third, are equal between them- 
 selves. You agree with Johnson as a middle quality, and 
 you agree with me as a middle quality; but Johnson and 
 I should not agree.' Sir John was not sufficiently flexible; 
 so I desisted ; knowing, indeed, that the repulsion was equally 
 strong on the part of Johnson; who, I know not from what 
 cause, unless his being a Scotchman, had formed a very 
 erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I conceived an irresistible 
 wish, if possible, to bring Dr. Johnson and Mr. Wilkes to- 
 gether. How to manage it, was a nice and difficult matter. 
 
 My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs Dilly in the 
 Poultry, at whose hospitable and well-covered table I have 
 seen a greater number of literary men, than at any other, 
 except that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, had invited me to meet 
 Mr. Wilkes and some more gentlemen on Wednesday, May 
 15. 'Pray (said I,) let us have Dr. Johnson.' 'What with 
 Mr. Wilkes? not for the world, (said Mr. Edward Dilly:) 
 Dr. Johnson would never forgive me.' 'Come, (said I,) if 
 you'll let me negociate for you, I will be answerable that all 
 shall go well.' DILLY. 'Nay, if you will take it upon you, 
 I am sure I shall be very happy to see them both here.' 
 
 Notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained 
 for Dr. Johnson, I was sensible that he was sometimes a little 
 actuated by the spirit of contradiction, and by means of that 
 I hoped I should gain my point. I was persuaded that if 
 I had come upon him with a direct proposal, 'Sir, will you 
 dine in company with Jack Wilkes?' he would have flown 
 into a passion, and would probably have answered, 'Dine 
 with Jack Wilkes, Sir! I'd as soon dine with Jack Ketch.' 
 I therefore, while we were sitting quietly by ourselves at his 
 house in an evening, took occasion to open my plan thus: 
 'Mr. Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you, and 
 would be happy if you would do him the honour to dine with 
 him on Wednesday next along with me, as I must soon go to 
 Scotland.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I 
 will wait upon him ' BOSWELL. 'Provided, Sir, I suppose, 
 that the company which he is to have, is agreeable to you.' 
 JOHNSON. 'What do you mean, Sir? What do you take me
 
 308 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world as to 
 imagine that I am to prescribe to a gentleman what company 
 he is to have at his table ?' BOSWELL. 'I beg your pardon, 
 Sir, for wishing to prevent you from meeting people whom 
 you might not like. Perhaps he may have some of what he 
 calls his patriotick friends with him.' JOHNSON. 'Well, 
 Sir, and what then ? What care / for his patriotick friends f 
 Poh!' BOSWELL.' 'I should not be surprized to find Jack 
 Wilkes there.' JOHNSON. 'And if Jack Wilkes should be 
 there, what is that to me, Sir? My dear friend, let us have 
 no more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you ; but really 
 it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if I could not meet 
 any company whatever, occasionally.' BOSWELL. 'Pray 
 forgive me, Sir: I meant well. But you shall meet whoever 
 comes, for me.' Thus I secured him, and told Dilly that he 
 would find him very well pleased to be one of his guests on 
 the day appointed. 
 
 Upon the much-expected Wednesday, I called on him 
 about half an hour before dinner, as I often did when we were 
 to dine out together, to see that he was ready in time, and to 
 accompany him. I found him buffeting his books, as upon 
 a former occasion, covered with dust, and making no prep- 
 aration for going abroad. 'How is this, Sir? (said I.) 
 Don't you recollect that you are to dine at Mr. Dilly 's?' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, I did not think of going to Dilly 's: it went 
 out of my head. I have ordered dinner at home with Mrs. 
 Williams.' BOSWELL. 'But, my dear Sir, you know you 
 were engaged to Mr. Dilly, and I told him so. He will ex- 
 pect you, and will be much disappointed if you don't come.' 
 JOHNSON. 'You must talk to Mrs. Williams about this.' 
 
 Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was so 
 confident I had secured would yet be frustrated. He had 
 accustomed himself to shew Mrs. Williams such a degree of 
 humane attention, as frequently imposed some restraint 
 upon him; and I knew that if she should be obstinate, he 
 would not stir. I hastened down stairs to the blind lady's 
 room, and told her I was in great uneasiness, for Dr. John- 
 son had engaged to me to dine this day at Mr. Dilly's, but 
 that he had told me he had forgotten his engagement, and
 
 1776] DINING WITH JACK WILKES 309 
 
 had ordered dinner at home. 'Yes, Sir, (said she, pretty 
 peevishly,) Dr. Johnson is to dine at home.' 'Madam, (said 
 I,) his respect for you is such, that I know he will not leave 
 you unless you absolutely desire it. But as you have so 
 much of his company, I hope you will be good enough to 
 forego it for a day; as Mr. Dilly is a very worthy man, has 
 frequently had agreeable parties at his house for Dr. Johnson, 
 and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day. And 
 then, Madam, be pleased to consider my situation; I carried 
 the message, and I assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was 
 to come, and no doubt he has made a dinner, and invited a 
 company, and boasted of the honour he expected to have. 
 I shall be quite disgraced if the Doctor is not there.' She 
 gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly 
 as earnest as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, 
 and was graciously pleased to empower me to tell Dr. John- 
 son, 'That all things considered, she thought he should cer- 
 tainly go.' I flew back to him, still in dust, and careless of 
 what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice to go or 
 stay;' but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams' 
 consent, he roared, 'Frank, a clean shirt,' and was very soon 
 drest. When I had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with 
 me, I exulted as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an 
 heiress into a post-chaise with him to set out for .Gretna- 
 Green. 
 
 When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing room, he found him- 
 self in the midst of a company he did not know. I kept my- 
 self snug and silent, watching how he would conduct himself. 
 I observed him whispering to Mr. Dilly, ' Who is that gentle- 
 man, Sir?' 'Mr. Arthur Lee.' JOHNSON. 'Too, too, too/ 
 (under his breath,) which was one of his habitual mutterings. 
 Mr. Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, 
 for he was not only a patriot but an American. He was after- 
 wards minister from the United States at the court of Madrid. 
 'And who is the gentleman in lace?' 'Mr. Wilkes, Sir.' 
 This information confounded him still more; he had some 
 difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book, sat down 
 upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon 
 it intently for some time, till he composed himself. His
 
 310 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 feelings, I dare say, were aukward enough. But he no doubt 
 recollected his having rated me for supposing that he could 
 be at all disconcerted by any company, and he, therefore, 
 resolutely set himself to behave quite as an easy man of the 
 world, who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and 
 manners of those whom he might chance to meet. 
 
 The cheering sound of 'Dinner is upon the table,' dissolved 
 his reverie, and we all sat down without any symptom of ill 
 humour. There were present, beside Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. 
 Arthur Lee, who was an old companion of mine when he 
 studied physick at Edinburgh, Mr. (now Sir John) Miller, 
 Dr. Lettsom, and Mr. Slater the druggist. Mr. Wilkes 
 placed himself next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him with 
 so much attention and politeness, that he gained upon him 
 insensibly. No man eat more heartily than Johnson, or loved 
 better what was nice and delicate. Mr. Wilkes was very 
 assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 'Pray give me 
 leave, Sir: It is better here A little of the brown Some 
 fat, Sir A little of the stuffing Some gravy Let me have 
 the pleasure of giving you some butter Allow me to recom- 
 mend a squeeze of this orange; or the lemon, perhaps, 
 may have more zest.' 'Sir, Sir, I am obliged to you, Sir,' 
 cried Johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with a 
 look for. some tune of 'surly virtue,' but, in a short while, of 
 complacency. 
 
 Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, 'He is not a good 
 mimick.' One of the company added, 'A merry Andrew, 
 a buffoon.' JOHNSON. 'But he has wit too, and is not defi- 
 cient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of imagery, and not 
 empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill up his 
 part. One species of wit he has in an eminent degree, that 
 of escape. You drive him into a corner with both hands; 
 but he's gone, Sir, when you think you have got him like 
 an animal that jumps over your head. Then he has a great 
 range for wit; he never lets truth stand between him and 
 a jest, and he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is under 
 many restraints from which Foote is free.' WILKES. 'Gar- 
 rick's wit is more like Lord Chesterfield's.' JOHNSON. 'The 
 first time I was in company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's.
 
 1776] FOOTE'S IRRESISTIBILITY 311 
 
 Having no good opinion of the fellow, I was resolved not to 
 be pleased; and it is very difficult to please a man against 
 his will. I went on eating my dinner pretty sullenly, af- 
 fecting not to mind him. But the dog was so very comical, 
 that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw my- 
 self back upon my chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir, 
 he was irresistible. He upon one occasion experienced, in 
 an extraordinary degree, the efficacy of his powers of enter- 
 taining. Amongst the many and various modes which he 
 tried of getting money, he became a partner with a small- 
 beer brewer, and he was to have a share of the profits for 
 procuring customers amongst his numerous acquaintance. 
 Fitzherbert was one who took his small-beer; but it was so 
 bad that the servants resolved not to drink it. They were 
 at some loss how to notify their resolution, being afraid of 
 offending their master, who they knew liked Foote much as 
 a companion. At last they fixed upon a little black boy, 
 who was rather a favourite, to be their deputy, and deliver 
 their remonstrance ; and having invested him with the whole 
 authority of the kitchen, he was to inform Mr. Fitzherbert, 
 in all their names, upon a certain day, that they would drink 
 Foote's small-beer no longer. On that day Foote happened 
 to dine at Fitzherbert 's, and this boy served at table; he 
 was so delighted with Foote's stories, and merriment, and 
 grimace, that when he went down stairs, he told them, 
 "This is the finest man I have ever seen. I will not deliver 
 your message. I will drink his small-beer."' 
 
 Somebody observed that Garrick could not have done 
 this. WILKES. 'Garrick would have made the small-beer 
 still smaller. He is now leaving the stage; but he will play 
 Scrub all his life.' I knew that Johnson would let nobody 
 attack Garrick but himself, as Garrick once said to me, and 
 I had heard him praise his liberality; so to bring out his 
 commendation of his celebrated pupil, I said, loudly, 'I have 
 heard Garrick is liberal.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I know that 
 Garrick has given away more money than any man in Eng- 
 land that I am acquainted with, and that not from ostenta- 
 tious views. Garrick was very poor when he began life; so 
 when he came to have money, he probably was very unskil-
 
 312 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1770 
 
 ful in giving away, and saved when he should not. But 
 Garrick began to be liberal as soon as he could; and I am 
 of opinion, the reputation of avarice which he has had, has 
 been very lucky for him, and prevented his having many 
 enemies. You despise a man for avarice, but do not hate 
 him. Garrick might have been much better attacked for 
 living with more splendour than is suitable to a player: if 
 they had had the wit to have assaulted him in that quarter, 
 they might have galled him more. But they have kept 
 clamouring about his avarice, which has rescued him from 
 much obloquy and envy.' 
 
 Talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick in- 
 formation for biography, Johnson told us, 'When I was a 
 young fellow I wanted to write the Life of Dry den, and in 
 order to get materials, I applied to the only two persons then 
 alive who had seen him; these were old Swinney, and old 
 Cibber. Swinney's information was no more than this, 
 "That at Will's coffee-house Dryden had a particular chair 
 for himself, which was set by the fire in winter, and was then 
 called his winter-chair; and that it was carried out for him 
 to the balcony in summer, and was then called his summer- 
 chair." Cibber could tell no more but " That he remembered 
 him a decent old man, arbiter of critical disputes at Will's." 
 You are to consider that Cibber was then at a great distance 
 from Dryden, had perhaps one leg only in the room, and 
 durst not draw in the other.' BOSWELL. 'Yet Cibber was 
 a man of observation?' JOHNSON. 'I think not.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'You will allow his A pology to be well done.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Very well done, to be sure, Sir. That book is a 
 striking proof of the justice of Pope's remark: 
 
 "Each might his several province well command, 
 Would all but stoop to what they understand.'" 
 
 BOSWELL. 'And his plays are good.' JOHNSON. 'Yes; but 
 that was his trade; I' esprit du corps : he had been all his life 
 among players and play-writers. I wondered that he had so 
 little to say in conversation, for he had kept the best com- 
 pany, and learnt all that can be got by the ear. He abused 
 Pindar to me. and then shewed me an Ode of his own, with 
 an absurd couplet, making a linnet soar on an eagle's wing.
 
 1776] SCOTLAND 31S 
 
 I told him that when the ancients made a simile, they always 
 made it like something real.' 
 
 Mr. Wilkes remarked, that 'among all the bold flights of 
 Shakspeare's imagination, the boldest was making Birnam- 
 wood march to Dunsinane; creating a wood where there 
 never was a shrub; a wood in Scotland ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ' And 
 he also observed, that ' the clannish slavery of the Highlands 
 of Scotland was the single exception to Milton's remark of 
 "The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty," being worshipped 
 in all hilly countries.' 'When I was at Inverary (said he,) 
 on a visit to my old friend, Archibald, Duke of Argyle, his- 
 dependents congratulated me on being such a favourite of 
 his Grace. I said, "It is then, gentlemen, truely lucky for 
 me; for if I had displeased the Duke, and he had wished it,, 
 there is not a Campbell among you but would have been 
 ready to bring John Wilkes's head to him in a charger. It 
 would have been only 
 
 "Off with his head! So much for Aylesbury." 
 
 I was then member for Aylesbury.' 
 
 Mr. Arthur Lee mentioned some Scotch who had taken 
 possession of a barren part of America, and wondered why 
 they should choose it. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, all Darren- 
 ness is comparative. The Scotch would not know it to be 
 barren.' BOSWELL. 'Come, come, he is flattering the Eng- 
 lish. You have now been in Scotland, Sir, and say if you 
 did not see meat and drink enough there.' JOHNSON. 'Why 
 yes, Sir; meat and drink enough to give the enhabitants 
 sufficient strength to run away from home.' All these quick 
 and lively sallies were said sportively, quite in jest, and with 
 a smile, which showed that he meant only wit. Upon this 
 topick he and Mr. Wilkes could perfectly assimilate; here 
 was a bond of union between them, and I was conscious that 
 as both of them had visited Caledonia, both were fully satis- 
 fied of the strange narrow ignorance of those who imagine 
 that it is a land of famine. But they amused themselves 
 with persevering in the old jokes. When I claimed a superi- 
 ority for Scotland over England in one respect, that no man 
 can be arrested there for a debt merely because another 
 swears it against him; but there must first be the judgement
 
 314 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [me 
 
 of a court of law ascertaining its justice; and that a seizure 
 of the person, before judgement is obtained, can take place 
 only, if his creditor should swear that he is about to fly from 
 the country, or, as it is technically expressed, is in meditatione 
 fugoe: WILKES. 'That, I should think, may be safely sworn 
 of all the Scotch nation.' JOHNSON, (to Mr. Wilkes,) 'You 
 must know, Sir, I lately took my friend Boswell and shewed 
 him genuine civilised life in an English provincial town. I 
 turned him loose at Lichfield, my native city, that he might 
 see for once real civility: for you know he lives among sav- 
 ages in Scotland, and among rakes in London.' WILKES. 
 'Except when he is with grave, sober, decent people like you 
 and me.' JOHNSON, (smiling,) 'And we ashamed of him.' 
 
 They were quite frank and easy. Johnson told the story 
 of his asking Mrs. Macaulay to allow her footman to sit 
 down with them, to prove the ridiculousness of the argument 
 for the equality of mankind; and he said to me afterwards, 
 with a nod of satisfaction, 'You saw Mr. Wilkes acquiesced.' 
 Wilkes talked with all imaginable freedom of the ludicrous 
 title given to the Attorney-General, Diabolus Regis; adding, 
 *I have reason to know something about that officer; for 
 I was prosecuted for a libel.' Johnson, who many people 
 would have supposed must have been furiously angry at 
 hearing this talked of so lightly, said not a word. He was 
 now, indeed, 'a good-humoured fellow.' 
 
 After dinner we had an accession of Mrs. Knowles, the 
 Quaker lady, well known for her various talents, and of Mr. 
 Alderman Lee. Amidst some patriotick groans, somebody 
 (I think the Alderman) said, 'Poor old England is lost.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is not so much to be lamented that Old 
 England is lost, as that the Scotch have found it.' WILKES. 
 'Had Lord Bute governed Scotland only, I should not have 
 taken the trouble to write his eulogy, and dedicate Mortimer 
 to him.' 
 
 Mr. Wilkes held a candle to shew a fine print of a beautiful 
 female figure which hung in the room, and pointed out the 
 elegant contour of the bosom with the finger of an arch con- 
 noisseur. He afterwards, in a conversation with me, wag- 
 gishly insisted, that all the time Johnson shewed visible
 
 1776] EPITAPH ON GOLDSMITH 315 
 
 signs of a fervent admiration of the corresponding charms 
 of the fair Quaker. 
 
 This record, though by no means so perfect as I could wish, 
 will serve to give a notion of a very curious interview, which 
 was not only pleasing at the time, but had the agreeable and 
 benignant effect of reconciling any animosity, and sweeten- 
 ing any acidity, which in the various bustle of political contest, 
 had been produced in the minds of two men, who though 
 widely different, had so many things hi common classical 
 learning, modern literature, wit, and humour, and ready 
 repartee that it would have been much to be regretted if 
 they had been for ever at a distance from each other. 
 
 Mr. Burke gave me much credit for this successful nego- 
 tiation; and pleasantly said, that 'there was nothing to 
 equal it in the whole history of the Corps Diplomatique.' 
 
 I attended Dr. Johnson home, and had the satisfaction to 
 hear him tell Mrs. Williams how much he had been pleased 
 with Mr. Wilkes's company, and what an agreeable day he 
 had passed. 
 
 I talked a good deal to him of the celebrated Margaret 
 Caroline Rudd, whom I had visited, induced by the fame of 
 her talents, address, and irresistible power of fascination. 
 To a lady who disapproved of my visiting her, he said on 
 a former occasion, 'Nay, Madam, Boswell is in the right; 
 I should have visited her myself, were it not that they have 
 now a trick of putting every thing into the news-papers.' 
 This evening he exclaimed, 'I envy him his acquaintance 
 with Mrs. Rudd.' 
 
 On the evening of the next day I took leave of him, being 
 to set out for Scotland. I thanked him with great warmth 
 for all his kindness. 'Sir, (said he,) you are very welcome. 
 Nobody repays it with more.' 
 
 The following letters concerning an Epitaph which he 
 wrote for the monument of Dr. Goldsmith, in Westminster- 
 Abbey, afford at once a proof of his unaffected modesty, 
 his carelessness as to his own writings, and of the great re- 
 spect which he entertained .for the taste and judgement of 
 the excellent and eminent person to whom they are ad- 
 dressed:
 
 316 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 'To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I have been kept away from you, I know not 
 well how, and of these vexatious hindrances I know not 
 when there will be an end. I therefore send you the poor 
 dear Doctor's epitaph. Read it first yourself; and if you 
 then think it right, shew it to the Club. I am, you know, 
 willing to be corrected. If you think any thing much amiss, 
 keep it to yourself, till we come together. I have sent two 
 copies, but prefer the card. The dates must be settled by 
 Dr. Percy. I am, Sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 'May 16, 1776.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 It was, I think, after I had left London this year, that this 
 Epitaph gave occasion to a Remonstrance to the MONARCH OF 
 LITERATURE, for an account of which I am indebted to Sir 
 William Forbes, of Pitsligo. 
 
 That my readers may have the subject more fully and 
 clearly before them, I shall first insert the Epitaph. 
 
 OLJVARII GOLDSMITH, 
 
 Poetce, Physici, Historici, 
 
 Qui nuttum ferk scribendi genus 
 
 Non tetigit, 
 
 Nuttum quod tetigit non ornatrit : 
 Sive risus essent movendi, 
 
 Sive lacrymcB, 
 
 Affectuum potens at lenis dominator: 
 
 Ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, 
 
 Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus: 
 
 Hoc monumento memoriam coluit , 
 
 Sodalium amor, 
 
 Amicorum fides, 
 
 Lectorum veneratio. 
 
 Natus in Hibernid Fornice Longfordiensis, 
 
 In loco cui nomen Pallas, 
 
 Nov. xxix. MDCCXXXI; 
 
 Eblance literis institutus; 
 
 Obiit Londini, 
 April iv, MDCCLXXIV.'
 
 1776] THE ROUND ROBIN 317 
 
 Sir William Forbes writes to me thus: 
 
 'I enclose the Round Robin. This jeu d 'esprit took its 
 rise one day at dinner at our friend Sir Joshua Reynolds's. 
 All the company present, except myself, were friends and 
 acquaintance of Dr. Goldsmith. "The Epitaph, written for 
 him by Dr. Johnson, became the subject of conversation, 
 and various emendations were suggested, which it was agreed 
 should be submitted to the Doctor's consideration. But the 
 question was, who should have the courage to propose them 
 to him? At last it was hinted, that there could be no way 
 so good as that of a Round Robin, as the sailors call it, which 
 they make use of when they enter into a conspiracy, so as 
 not to let it be known who puts his name first or last to the 
 paper. This proposition was instantly assented to; and 
 Dr. Barnard, Dean of Derry, now Bishop of Killaloe, drew 
 up an address to Dr. Johnson on the occasion, replete with 
 wit and humour, but which it was feared the Doctor might 
 think treated the subject with too much levity. Mr. Burke 
 then proposed the address as it stands in the paper in writing, 
 to which I had the honour to officiate as clerk. 
 
 'Sir Joshua agreed to carry it to Dr. Johnson, who re- 
 ceived it with much good humour, 1 and desired Sir Joshua 
 to tell the gentlemen, that he would alter the Epitaph in any 
 manner they pleased, as to the sense of it; but he would 
 never consent to disgrace the watts of Westminster Abbey with 
 an English inscription. 
 
 'I consider this Round Robin as a species of literary curi- 
 osity worth preserving, as it marks, in a certain degree, Dr. 
 Johnson's character.' 
 
 1 He however, upon seeing Dr. Walton's name to the suggestion, that 
 the'Epitaph should be in English, observed to Sir Joshua, 'I wonder 
 that Joe Wanton, a scholar by profession, should be such a fool.' He 
 said too, ' I should have thought Mund Burke would have had more 
 sense.' Mr. Langton, who was one of the company at Sir Joshua's, 
 like a sturdy scholar, resolutely refused to sign the Round Robin. The 
 Epitaph is engraved upon Dr. Goldsmith's monument without any 
 alteration. At another time, when somebody endeavoured to argue 
 in favour of its being in English, Johnson said, ' The language of the 
 country of which a learned man was a native, is not the language 
 flt for his epitaph, which should be in ancient and permanent language. 
 Consider, Sir; how you should feel, were you to find at Rotterdam an 
 epitaph upon Erasmus in Dutch!' BOSWELU
 
 318 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1776 
 
 Sir William Forbes's observation is very just. The anec- 
 dote now related proves, in the strongest manner, the rever- 
 ence and awe with which Johnson was regarded, by some of 
 the most eminent men of his time, in various departments, 
 and even by such of them as lived most with him; while it 
 also confirms what I have again and again inculcated, that 
 he was by no means of that ferocious and irascible character 
 which has been ignorantly imagined. 
 
 This hasty composition is also to be remarked as one of 
 a thousand instances which evince the extraordinary prompt- 
 itude of Mr. Burke; who while he is equal to the greatest 
 things, can adorn the least; can, with equal facility, embrace 
 the vast and complicated speculations of politicks, or the 
 ingenious topicks of literary investigation. 
 
 'DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL. 
 
 'MADAM, You must not think me uncivil in omitting to 
 answer the letter with which you favoured me some time 
 ago. I imagined it to have been written without Mr. Bos- 
 well's knowledge, and therefore supposed the answer to 
 require, what I could not find, a private conveyance. 
 
 'The difference with Lord Auchinleck is now over; and 
 since young Alexander has appeared, I hope no more diffi- 
 culties will arise among you; for I sincerely wish you all 
 happy. Do not teach the young ones to dislike me, as you 
 dislike me yourself; but let me at least have Veronica's 
 kindness, because she is my acquaintance. 
 
 'You will now have Mr. Boswell home; it is well that you 
 have him; he has led a wild life. I have taken him to Lich- 
 field, and he has followed Mr. Thrale to Bath. Pray take 
 care of him, and tame him. The only thing in which I have 
 the honour to agree with you is, in loving him; and while we 
 are so much of a mind in a matter of so much importance, 
 our other quarrels will, I hope, produce no great bitterness. 
 I am, Madam, your most humble servant, 
 
 'May 16, 1776.' 'SAM.. JOHNSON.' 
 
 I select from his private register the following passage: 
 4 July 25, 1776. GOD, who hast ordained that whatever
 
 17771 SURVEY OF PAST LIFE 319 
 
 is to be desired should be sought by labour, and who, by thy 
 blessing, bringest honest labour to good effect, look with 
 mercy upon my studies and endeavours. Grant ms, O LORD, 
 to design only what is lawful and right; and afford me 
 calmness of mind, and steadiness of purpose, that I may so 
 do thy will in this short life, as to obtain happiness in the 
 world to come, for the sake of JESUS CHRIST our Lord. 
 Amen.' 
 
 It appears from a note subjoined, that this was composed 
 when he 'purposed to apply vigorously to study, particu- 
 larly of the Greek and Italian tongues.' 
 
 Such a purpose, so expressed, at the age of sixty-seven, 
 is admirable and encouraging; and it must impress all the 
 thinking part of my readers with a consolatory confidence in 
 habitual devotion, when they see a man of such enlarged 
 intellectual powers as Johnson, thus in the genuine earnest- 
 ness of secrecy, imploring the aid of that Supreme Being, 
 'from whom cometh down every good and every perfect gift.' 
 
 1777: .ETAT. 68.] IN 1777, it appears from his Prayers 
 and Meditations, that Johnson suffered much from a state 
 of mind 'unsettled and perplexed,' and from that constitu- 
 tional gloom, which, together with his extreme humility and 
 anxiety with regard to his religious state, made him contem- 
 plate himself through too dark and unfavourable a medium. 
 It may be said of him, that he 'saw GOD in clouds.' Certain 
 we may be of his injustice to himself in the following lament- 
 able paragraph, which it is painful to think came from the 
 contrite heart of this great man, to whose labours the world 
 is so much indebted: 'When I survey my past life, I dis- 
 cover nothing but a barren waste of time, with some dis- 
 orders of body, and disturbances of the mind, very near to 
 madness, which I hope He that made me will suffer to ex- 
 tenuate many faults, and excuse many deficiencies.' But 
 we find his devotions in this year eminently fervent; and 
 we are comforted by observing intervals of quiet, composure, 
 and gladness. 
 
 On Easter-day we find the following emphatick prayer: 
 'Almighty and most merciful Father^ who seest all our
 
 320 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 miseries, and knowest all our necessities, look down upon me, 
 and pity me. Defend me from the violent incursion [incur- 
 sions] of evil thoughts, and enable me to form and keep such 
 resolutions as may conduce to the discharge of the duties 
 which thy providence shall appoint me; and so help me, by 
 thy Holy Spirit, that my heart may surely there be fixed, 
 where true joys are to be found, and that I may serve thee 
 with pure affection and a cheerful mind. Have mercy upon 
 me, O GOD, have mercy upon me; years and infirmities 
 oppress me, terrour and anxiety beset me. Have mercy 
 upon me, my Creator and my Judge. [In all dangers pro- 
 tect me.] In all perplexities relieve and free me; and so 
 help me by thy Holy Spirit, that I may now so commemorate 
 the death of thy Son our Saviour JESUS CHRIST, as that 
 when this short and painful life shall have an end, I may, 
 for his sake, be received to everlasting happiness. Amen.' 
 
 'SiR ALEXANDER DICK TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 'Prestonfield, Feb. 17, 1777. 
 
 'SiR, I had yesterday the honour of receiving your book 
 of your Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, which you 
 was so good as to send me, by the hands of our mutual friend, 
 Mr. Boswell, of Auchinleck; for which I return you my most 
 hearty thanks; and after carefully reading it over again, 
 shall deposit in my little collection of choice books, next our 
 worthy friend's Journey to Corsica. As there are many 
 things to admire in both performances, I have often wished 
 that no Travels or Journeys should be published but those 
 undertaken by persons of integrity and capacity to judge 
 well, and describe faithfully, and in good language, the situ- 
 ation, condition, and manners of the countries past through. 
 Indeed our country of Scotland, in spite of the union of the 
 crowns, is still in most places so devoid of clothing, or cover 
 from hedges and plantations, that it was well you gave your 
 readers a sound Monitoire with respect to that circumstance. 
 The truths you have told, and the purity of the language in 
 which they are expressed, as your Journey is universally 
 read, may. and already appear to have a very good effect.
 
 1777] WISH TO HEAR FROM BOSWELL 321 
 
 For a man of my acquaintance, who has the largest nursery 
 for trees and hedges in this country, tells me, that of late the 
 demand upon him for these articles is doubled, and some- 
 times tripled. I have, therefore, listed Dr. Samuel Johnson 
 in some of my memorandums of the principal planters and 
 favourers of the enclosures, under a name which I took the 
 liberty to invent from the Greek, Papadendrion. Lord 
 Auchinleck and some few more are of the list. I am told 
 that one gentleman in the shire of Aberdeen, viz. Sir Archi- 
 bald Grant, has planted above fifty millions of trees on a 
 piece of very wild ground at Monimusk: I must enquire if 
 he has fenced them well, before he enters my list; for, that 
 is the soul of enclosing. I began myself to plant a little, our 
 ground being too valuable for much, and that is now fifty 
 years ago; and the trees, now in my seventy-fourth year, 
 I look up to with reverence, and shew them to my eldest son 
 now in his fifteenth year, and they are full the height of my 
 country-house here, where I had the pleasure of receiving 
 you, and hope again to have that satisfaction with our 
 mutual friend, Mr. Boswell. I shall always continue, with 
 the truest esteem, dear Doctor, your much obliged, and 
 obedient humble servant, 'ALEXANDER DICK/ 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, It is so long since I heard any thing from 
 you, that I am not easy about it; write something to me 
 next post. When you sent your last letter, every thing 
 seemed to be mending; I hope nothing has lately grown 
 worse. I suppose young Alexander continues to thrive, and 
 Veronica is now very pretty company. I do not suppose 
 the lady is yet reconciled to me, yet let her know that I love 
 her very well, and value her very much. . .'/. jj 
 
 'Poor Beauclerk still continues very ill. Langton lives 
 on as he used to do. His children are very pretty, and, I 
 think, his lady loses her Scotch. Paoli I never see. 
 
 'I have been so distressed by difficulty of breathing, that 
 I lost, as was computed, six-and-thirty ounces of blood in 
 a few days. I am better, but not well. . . .
 
 322 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 'Mrs. Williams sends her compliments, and promises that 
 when you come hither, she will accommodate you as well as 
 ever she can in the old room. She wishes to know whether 
 you sent her book to Sir Alexander Gordon. 
 
 'My dear Boswell, do not neglect to write to me; for your 
 kindness is one of the pleasures of my life, which I should be 
 sorry to lose. I am, Sir, your humble servant, 
 
 'February 18, 1777.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 'Glasgow, April 24, 1777. 
 
 'Mr DEAR SIR, . . . My wife has made marmalade of 
 oranges for you. I left her and my daughters and Alexander 
 all well yesterday. I have taught Veronica to speak of you 
 thus; Dr. Johnson, not Johnston. I remain, my dear Sir, 
 your most affectionate, and obliged humble servant, 
 
 'JAMES BOSWELL.' 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, . . . Tell Mrs. Boswell that I shall taste her 
 
 marmalade cautiously at first. Timeo Danaos et donaferentes. 
 
 Beware, says the Italian proverb, of a reconciled enemy. 
 
 But when I find it does me no harm, I shall then receive it 
 
 and be thankful for it, as a pledge of firm, and, I hope, of 
 
 unalterable kindness. She is, after all, a dear, dear lady. . . . 
 
 'I am, dear Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, 
 
 'May 3, 1777.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'Southill, Sept. 26, 1777. 
 
 ' DEAR SIR, You will find by this letter, that I am still in 
 the same calm retreat, from the noise and bustle of London, 
 as when I wrote to you last. I am happy to find you had 
 such an agreeable meeting with your old friend Dr. Johnson; 
 I have no doubt your stock is much increased by the inter- 
 view; few men, nay I may say, scarcely any man, has got 
 that fund of knowledge and entertainment as Dr. Johnson
 
 1777] MR. DILLY'S LETTER 323 
 
 in conversation. When he opens freely, every one is atten- 
 tive to what he says, and cannot fail of improvement as well 
 as pleasure. 
 
 'The edition of The Poets, now printing, will do honour 
 to the English press; and a concise account of the life of 
 each authour, by Dr. Johnson, will be a very valuable addi- 
 tion, and stamp the reputation of this edition superiour to 
 any thing that is gone before. The first cause that gave 
 rise to this undertaking, I believe, was owing to the little 
 trifling edition of The Poets, printing by the Martins, at 
 Edinburgh, and to be sold by Bell, in London. Upon ex- 
 amining the volumes which were printed, the type was 
 found so extremely small, that many persons could not read 
 them; not only this inconvenience attended it, but the in- 
 accuracy of the press was very conspicuous. These reasons, 
 as well as the idea of an invasion of what we call our Literary 
 Property, induced the London Booksellers to print an 
 elegant and accurate edition of all the English Poets of 
 reputation, from Chaucer to the present time. 
 
 ' Accordingly a select number of the most respectable book- 
 sellers met on the occasion; and, on consulting together, 
 agreed, that all the proprietors of copy-right in the various 
 Poets should be summoned together; and when their opin- 
 ions were given, to proceed immediately on the business. 
 Accordingly a meeting was held, consisting of about forty 
 of the most respectable booksellers of London, when it was 
 agreed that an elegant and uniform edition of The English 
 Poets should be immediately printed, with a concise account 
 of the life of each authour, by Dr. Samuel Johnson; and 
 that three persons should be deputed to wait upon Dr. 
 Johnson, to solicit him to undertake the Lives, viz., T. Davies, 
 Strahan, and Cadell. The Doctor very politely undertook 
 it, and seemed exceedingly pleased with the proposal. As 
 to the terms, it was left entirely to the Doctor to name his 
 own : he mentioned two hundred guineas 1 : it was immediately 
 
 1 Johnson's moderation in demanding so small a sum is extraordinary. 
 Had he asked one thousand, or even fifteen hundred guineas, the book- 
 sellers, who knew the value of his name, would doubtless have readily 
 given it. They have probably got five thousand guineas by this work 
 in the course of twenty-flve years. M ALONE.
 
 324 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 agreed to; and a farther compliment, I believe, will be made 
 him. A committee was likewise appointed to engage the 
 best engravers, viz., Bartolozzi, Sherwin, Hall, etc. Likewise 
 another committee for giving directions about the paper, 
 printing, etc., so that the whole will be conducted with spirit, 
 and in the best manner, with respect to authourship, editor- 
 ship, engravings, etc., etc. My brother will give you a list 
 of the Poets we mean to give, many of which are within the 
 time of the Act of Queen Anne, which Martin and Bell can- 
 not give, as they have no property in them; the proprietors 
 are almost all the booksellers in London, of consequence. 
 I am, dear Sir, ever your's, ' EDWARD DILLY.' 
 
 A circumstance which could not fail to be very pleasing 
 to Johnson occurred this year. The Tragedy of Sir Thomas 
 Overbury, written by his early companion in London, Richard 
 Savage, was brought out with alterations at Drury-lane 
 theatre. The Prologue to it was written by Mr. Richard 
 Brinsley Sheridan; in which, after describing very pathet- 
 ically the wretchedness of 
 
 ' Ill-fated Savage, at whose birth was giv'n 
 No parent but the Muse, no friend but Heav'n:' 
 
 he introduced an elegant compliment to Johnson on his 
 Dictionary, that wonderful performance which cannot be too 
 often or too highly praised; of which Mr. Harris, in his 
 Philological Inquiries, justly and liberally observes: 'Such 
 is its merit, that our language does not possess a more co- 
 pious, learned, and valuable work.' The concluding lines of 
 this Prologue were these: 
 
 'So pleads the tale that gives to future times 
 The son's misfortunes and the parent's crimes; 
 There shall his fame (if own'd to-night) survive, 
 Fix'd by THE HAND THAT BIDS OUR LANGUAGE LIVE.' 
 
 Mr. Sheridan here at once did honour to his taste and to 
 his liberality of sentiment, by shewing that he was not
 
 1777] A JAR OF MARMALADE 325 
 
 prejudiced from the unlucky difference which had taken 
 place between his worthy father and Dr. Johnson. I have 
 already mentioned, that Johnson was very desirous of rec- 
 onciliation with old Mr. Sheridan. It will, therefore, not 
 seem at all surprizing that he was zealous in acknowledg- 
 ing the brilliant merit of his son. While it had as yet been 
 displayed only in the drama, Johnson proposed him as a 
 member of THE LITERARY CLUB, observing, that 'He who 
 has written the two best comedies of his age, is surely a 
 considerable man.' And he had, accordingly, the honour to 
 be elected; for an honour it undoubtedly must be allowed 
 to be, when it is considered of whom that society consists, 
 and that a single black ball excludes a candidate. 
 
 On the 23rd of June, I again wrote to Dr. Johnson, enclosing 
 a ship-master's receipt for a jar of orange-marmalade, and 
 a large packet of Lord Hailes's Annals of Scotland. 
 
 'DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL. 
 
 'MADAM, Though I am well enough pleased with the 
 taste of sweetmeats, very little of the pleasure which I re- 
 ceived at the arrival of your jar of marmalade arose from 
 eating it. I received it as a token of friendship, as a proof 
 of reconciliation, things much sweeter than sweetmeats, and 
 upon this consideration I return you, dear Madam, my sin- 
 cerest thanks. By having your kindness I think I have a 
 double security for the continuance of Mr. Boswell's, which 
 it is not to be expected that any man can long keep, when 
 the influence of a lady so highly and so justly valued oper- 
 ates against him. Mr. Boswell will tell you that I was 
 always faithful to your interest, and always endeavoured 
 to exalt you in his estimation. You must now do the same 
 for me. We must all help one another, and you must now 
 consider me, as, dear Madam, your most obliged, and most 
 humble servant, 
 
 'July 22, 1777.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.'
 
 326 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I am this day come to Ashbourne, and have 
 only to tell you, that Dr. Taylor says you shall be welcome 
 to him, and you know how welcome you will be to me. 
 Make haste to let me know when you may be expected. 
 
 'Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, and tell her, I 
 hope we shall be at variance no more. I am, dear Sir, your 
 most humble servant, 
 
 'August 30, 1777.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 On Sunday evening, Sept. 14, I arrived at Ashbourne, and 
 drove directly up to Dr. Taylor's door. Dr. Johnson and 
 he appeared before I had got out of the post-chaise, and 
 welcomed me cordially. 
 
 I told them that I had travelled all the preceding night, 
 and gone to bed at Leek in Staffordshire; and that when I 
 rose to go to church in the afternoon, I was informed there 
 had been an earthquake, of which, it seems, the shock had 
 been felt in some degree at Ashbourne. JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 it will be much exaggerated in popular talk: for, in the 
 first place, the common people do not accurately adapt their 
 thoughts to the objects; nor, secondly, do they accurately 
 adapt their words to their thoughts: they do not mean to 
 lie; but, taking no pains to be exact, they give you very 
 false accounts. A great part of their language is proverbial. 
 If anything rocks at all, they say it rocks like a cradle; and 
 in this way they go on.' 
 
 The subject of grief for the loss of relations and friends 
 being introduced, I observed that it was strange to consider 
 how soon it in general wears away. Dr. Taylor mentioned 
 a gentleman of the neighbourhood as the only instance he 
 had ever known of a person who had endeavoured to retain 
 grief. He told Dr. Taylor, that after his Lady's death, 
 which affected him deeply, he resolved that the grief, which 
 he cherished with a kind of sacred fondness, should be last- 
 ing; but that he found he could not keep it long. JOHNSON. 
 'All grief for what cannot in the course of nature be helped, 
 soon wears away; in some sooner, indeed, in some later;
 
 1777] GRIEF FOR LOSS OF FRIENDS 327 
 
 but it never continues very long, unless where there is mad- 
 ness, such as will make a man have pride so fixed in his mind, 
 as to imagine himself a King; or any other passion in an 
 unreasonable way: for all unnecessary grief is unwise, and 
 therefore will not be long retained by a sound mind. If, 
 indeed, the cause of our grief is occasioned by our own mis- 
 conduct, if grief is mingled with remorse of conscience, it 
 should be lasting.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, we do not ap- 
 prove of a man who very soon forgets the loss of a wife or a 
 friend.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we disapprove of him, not because 
 he soon forgets his grief, for the sooner it is forgotten the 
 better, but because we suppose, that if he forgets his wife 
 or his friend soon, he has not had much affection for them.' 
 
 I was somewhat disappointed in finding that the edition 
 of The English Poets, for which he was to write Prefaces and 
 Lives, was not an undertaking directed by him: but that he 
 was to furnish a Preface and Life to any poet the booksellers 
 pleased. I asked him if he would do this to any dunce's 
 works, if they should ask him. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and 
 say he was a dunce.' My friend seemed now not much to 
 relish talking of this edition. 
 
 After breakfast, 1 Johnson carried me to see the garden be- 
 longing to the school of Ashbourne, which is very prettily 
 formed upon a bank, rising gradually behind the house. 
 The Reverend Mr. Langley, the head-master, accompanied 
 us. 
 
 We had with us at dinner several of Dr. Taylor's neigh- 
 bours, good civil gentlemen, who seemed to understand Dr. 
 Johnson very well, and not to consider him in the light that 
 a certain person did, who being struck, or rather stunned 
 by his voice and manner, when he was afterwards asked 
 what he thought of him, answered, 'He's a tremendous 
 companion.' 
 
 Johnson told me, that 'Taylor was a very sensible acute 
 man, and had a strong mind; that he had great activity in 
 some respects, and yet such a sort of indolence, that if you 
 should put a pebble upon his chimney-piece, you would 
 find it there, in the same state, a year afterwards.' 
 
 'Next morning. ED.
 
 328 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 And here is the proper place to give an account of John- 
 son's humane and zealous interference in behalf of the 
 Reverend Dr. William Dodd, formerly Prebendary of Bre- 
 con, and chaplain in ordinary to his Majesty; celebrated as 
 a very popular preacher, an encourager of charitable insti- 
 tutions, and authour of a variety of works, chiefly theological. 
 Having unhappily contracted expensive habits of living, 
 partly occasioned by licentiousness of manners, he in an evil 
 hour, when pressed by want of money, and dreading an ex- 
 posure of his circumstances, forged a bond of which he at- 
 tempted to avail himself to support his credit, flattering 
 himself with hopes that he might be able to repay its amount 
 without being detected. The person, whose name he thus 
 rashly and criminally presumed to falsify, was the Earl of 
 Chesterfield, to whom he had been tutor, and who, he per- 
 haps, in the warmth of his feelings, flattered himself would 
 have generously paid the money in case of an alarm being 
 taken, rather than suffer him to fall a victim to the dreadful 
 consequences of violating the law against forgery, the most 
 dangerous crime in a commercial country; but the unfor- 
 tunate divine had the mortification to find that he was mis- 
 taken. His noble pupil appeared against him, and he was 
 capitally convicted. 
 
 Johnson told me that Dr. Dodd was very little acquainted 
 with him, having been but once in his company, many years 
 previous to this period (which was precisely the state of my 
 own acquaintance with Dodd); but in his distress he be- 
 thought himself of Johnson's persuasive power of writing, 
 if haply it might avail to obtain for him the Royal Mercy. 
 He did not apply to him directly, but, extraordinary as it 
 may seem, through the late Countess of Harrington, who 
 wrote a letter to Johnson, asking him to employ his pen in 
 favour of Dodd. Mr. Allen, the printer, who was Johnson's 
 landlord and next neighbour in Bolt-court, and for whom 
 he had much kindness, was one of Dodd's friends, of whom 
 to the credit of humanity be it recorded, that he had many 
 who did not desert him, even after his infringement of the 
 law had reduced him to the state of a man under sentence 
 of death. Mr. Allen told me that he carried Lady Barring-
 
 1777] WRITINGS FOR DR. DODD 329 
 
 ton's letter to Johnson, that Johnson read it walking up and 
 down his chamber, and seemed much agitated, after which 
 he said, 'I will do what I can;' and certainly he did make 
 extraordinary exertions. 
 
 He this evening, as he had obligingly promised in one of 
 his letters, put into my hands the whole series of his writings 
 upon this melancholy occasion. 
 
 Dr. Johnson wrote in the first place, Dr. Dodd's Speech 
 to the Recorder of London, at the Old-Bailey, when sentence 
 of death was about to be pronounced upon him. 
 
 He wrote also The Convict's Address to his unhappy 
 Brethren, a sermon delivered by Dr. Dodd, in the chapel 
 of Newgate. 
 
 The other pieces mentioned by Johnson in the above- 
 mentioned collection, are two letters, one to the Lord Chan- 
 cellor Bathurst, (not Lord North, as is erroneously supposed,) 
 and one to Lord Mansfield; A Petition from Dr. Dodd to 
 the King; A Petition from Mrs. Dodd to the Queen; 
 Observations of some length inserted in the news-papers, on 
 occasion of Earl Percy's having presented to his Majesty 
 a petition for mercy to Dodd, signed by twenty thousand 
 people, but all in vain. He told me that he had also written 
 a petition from the city of London ; ' but (said he, with, a 
 significant smile) they mended it.' 
 
 The last of these articles which Johnson wrote is Dr. 
 Dodd's last solemn Declaration, which he left with the sheriff 
 at the place of execution. 
 
 I found a letter to Dr. Johnson from Dr. Dodd, May 23, 
 1777, in which The Convict's Address seems clearly to be 
 meant. 
 
 'I am so penetrated, my ever dear Sir, with a sense of 
 your extreme benevolence towards me, that I cannot find 
 words equal to the sentiments of my heart. . . .' 
 
 On Sunday, June 22, he writes, begging Dr. Johnson's 
 assistance in framing a supplicatory letter to his Majesty. 
 
 This letter was brought to Dr. Johnson when in church. 
 He stooped down and read it, and wrote, when he went 
 home, the following letter for Dr. Dodd to the King: 
 
 'SiR, May it not offend your Majesty, that the most
 
 330 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 miserable of men applies himself to your clemency, as his 
 last hope and his last refuge; that your mercy is most ear- 
 nestly and humbly implored by a clergyman, whom your 
 Laws and Judges have condemned to the horrour and ig- 
 nominy of a publick execution. . . .' 
 Subjoined to it was written as follows: 
 
 'To DR. DODD. 
 
 'SiR, I most seriously enjoin you not to let it be at all 
 known that I have written this letter, and to return the 
 copy to Mr. Allen in a cover to me. I hope I need not tell 
 you, that I wish it success. But do not indulge hope. Tell 
 nobody.' 
 
 It happened luckily that Mr. Allen was pitched on to 
 assist in this melancholy office, for he was a great friend of 
 Mr. Akerman, the keeper of Newgate. Dr. Johnson never 
 went to see Dr. Dodd. He said to me, 'it would have done 
 him more harm, than good to Dodd, who once expressed a 
 desire to see him, but not earnestly.' 
 
 All applications for the Royal Mercy having failed, Dr. 
 Dodd prepared himself for death; and, with a warmth of 
 gratitude, wrote to Dr. Johnson as follows: 
 
 'June 25, Midnight. 
 
 'Accept, thou great and good heart, my earnest and fer- 
 vent thanks and prayers for all thy benevolent and kind 
 efforts in my behalf. Oh! Dr. Johnson! as I sought your 
 knowledge at an early hour in life, would to heaven I had 
 cultivated the love and acquaintance of so excellent a man ! 
 I pray GOD most sincerely to bless you with the highest 
 transports the infelt satisfaction of humane and benevo- 
 lent exertions ! And admitted, as I trust I shall be, to the 
 realms of bliss before you, I shall hail your arrival there 
 with transports, and rejoice to acknowledge that you was 
 my Comforter, my Advocate and my Friend ! GOD be ever 
 with you ! ' 
 
 Dr. Johnson lastly wrote to Dr. Dodd this solemn and 
 soothing letter:
 
 1777] LETTER TO DR. DODD 331 
 
 'To THE REVEREND DR. DODD. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, That which is appointed to all men is novr 
 coming upon you. Outward circumstances, the eyes and 
 the thoughts of men, are below the notice of an immortal 
 being about to stand the trial for eternity, before the Supreme 
 Judge of heaven and earth. Be comforted: your crime, 
 morally or religiously considered, has no very deep dye of 
 turpitude. It corrupted no man's principles; it attacked 
 no man's life. It involved only a temporary and reparable 
 injury. Of this, and of all other sins, you are earnestly to 
 repent; and may GOD, who knoweth our frailty, and de- 
 sireth not our death, accept your repentance, for the sake 
 of his Son JESUS CHRIST our Lord. 
 
 'In requital of those well-intended offices which you are 
 pleased so emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that 
 you make in your devotions one petition for my eternal 
 welfare. I am, dear Sir, your affectionate servant, 
 
 'June 26, 1777.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 Under the copy of this letter I found written, in John- 
 son's own hand, 'Next day, June 27, he was executed.' 
 
 Tuesday, September 16, Dr. Johnson having mentioned 
 to me the extraordinary size and price of some cattle reared 
 by Dr. Taylor, I rode out with our host, surveyed his farm, 
 and was shown one cow which he had sold for a hundred 
 and twenty guineas, and another for which he had been 
 offered a hundred and thirty. Taylor thus described to 
 me his old schoolfellow and friend, Johnson: 'He is a man 
 of a very clear head,- great power of words, and a very gay 
 imagination; but there is no disputing with him. He will 
 not hear you, and having a louder voice than you, must 
 roar you down.' 
 
 In the evening, the Reverend Mr. Seward, of Lichfield, 
 who was passing through Ashbourne in his way home, drank 
 tea with us. Johnson described him thus: 'Sir, his ambi- 
 tion is to be a fine talker; so he goes to Buxton, and such 
 places, where he may find companies to listen to him. And, 
 Sir, he is a valetudinarian, one of those who are always
 
 332 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 mending themselves. I do not know a more disagreeable 
 character than a valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any 
 thing that is for his ease, and indulges himself in the grossest 
 freedoms: Sir, he brings himself to the state of a hog in a 
 stye.' 
 
 Dr. Taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was 
 because he had omitted to have himself blooded four days 
 after a quarter of a year's interval. Dr. Johnson, who was 
 a great dabbler in physick, disapproved much of periodical 
 bleeding. 'For (said he,) you accustom yourself to an 
 evacuation which Nature cannot perform of herself, and 
 therefore she cannot help you, should you, from forgetful- 
 ness or any other cause, omit it; so you may be suddenly 
 suffocated. You may accustom yourself to other periodical 
 evacuations, because should you omit them, Nature can 
 supply the omission ; but Nature cannot open a vein to blood 
 you.' 'I do not like to take an emetick, (said Taylor,) for 
 fear of breaking some small vessels.' 'Poh! (said Johnson,) 
 if you have so many things that will break, you had better 
 break your neck at once, and there's an end on't. You will 
 break no small vessels:' (blowing with high derision.) 
 
 The horrour of death which I had always observed in Dr. 
 Johnson, appeared strong to-night. I ventured to tell him, 
 that I had been, for moments in my life, not afraid of death; 
 therefore I could suppose another man in that state of mind 
 for a considerable space of time. He said, 'he never had a 
 moment in which death was not terrible to him.' He added, 
 that it had been observed, that scarce any man dies in 
 publick, but with apparent resolution; from that desire of 
 praise which never quits us. I said, Dr. Dodd seemed to 
 be willing to die. and full of hopes of happiness. 'Sir, (said 
 he,) Dr. Dodd would have given both his hands and both 
 his legs to have lived. The better a man is, the more afraid 
 he is of death, having a clearer view of infinite purity.' He 
 owned, that our being in an unhappy uncertainty as to our 
 salvation, was mysterious; and said, 'Ah! we must wait 
 till we are in another state of being, to have many things 
 explained to us.' Even the powerful mind of Johnson 
 seemed foiled by futurity.
 
 1777] BIOGRAPHY 333 
 
 On Wednesday, September 17, Dr. Butter, physician at 
 Derby, drank tea with us; and it was settled that Dr. John- 
 son and I should go on Friday and dine with him. Johnson 
 said, 'I'm glad of this.' He seemed weary of the uniformity 
 of life at Dr. Taylor's. 
 
 Talking of biography, I said, in writing a life, a man's 
 peculiarities should be mentioned, because they mark his 
 character. JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no doubt as to pecu- 
 liarities: the question is, whether a man's vices should be 
 mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned 
 that Addison and Parnell drank too freely: for people will 
 probably more easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; 
 so that more ill may be done by the example, than good by 
 telling the whole truth.' Here was an instance of his vary- 
 ing from himself in talk; for when Lord Hailes and he sat 
 one morning calmly conversing in my house at Edinburgh, 
 I well remember that Dr. Johnson maintained, that 'If a 
 man is to write A Panegyrick. he may keep vices out of sight; 
 but if he professes to write A Life, he must represent it really 
 as it was:' and when I objected to the danger of telling that 
 Parnell drank to excess, he said, that 'it would produce an 
 instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it was seen, 
 that even the learning and genius of Parnell could be de- 
 based by it.' And in the Hebrides he maintained, as appears 
 from my Journal, that a man's intimate friend should men- 
 tion his faults, if he writes his life. 
 
 Thursday, September 18. Last night Dr. Johnson had 
 proposed that the crystal lustre, or chandelier, in Dr. Tay- 
 lor's large room, should be lighted up some time or other. 
 Taylor said, it should be lighted up next night. 'That will 
 do very well, (said I,) for it is Dr. Johnson's birth-day.' 
 When we were in the Isle of Sky, Johnson had desired me 
 not to mention his birth-day. He did not seem pleased at 
 this time that I mentioned it, and said (somewhat sternly,) 
 'he would not have the lustre lighted the next day.' 
 
 Some ladies, who had been present yesterday when I 
 mentioned his birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued 
 him unintentionally, by wishing him joy. I know not why 
 he disliked having his birth-day mentioned, unless it were
 
 334 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 that it reminded him of his approaching nearer to death, 
 of which he had a constant dread. 
 
 I mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly 
 gloomy from low spirits, and much distressed by the fear 
 of death, but was now uniformly placid, and contemplated 
 his dissolution without any perturbation. 'Sir, (said John- 
 son,) this is only a disordered imagination taking a different 
 turn.' 
 
 He observed, that a gentleman of eminence in literature 
 had got into a bad style of poetry of late. 'He puts (said 
 he,) a very common thing in a strange dress till he does not 
 know it himself, and thinks other people do not know it.' 
 BOSWELL. 'That is owing to his being so much versant in 
 old English poetry.' JOHNSON. 'What is that to the pur- 
 pose, Sir? If I say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is 
 owing to his taking much drink, the matter is not mended. 
 
 No, Sir, has taken to an odd mode. For example, 
 
 he'd write thus: 
 
 "Hermit hoar, in solemn cell, 
 
 Wearing out life's evening gray." 
 
 Gray evening is common enough; but evening gray he'd 
 think fine. Stay; we'll make out the stanza: 
 
 "Hermit hoar, in solemn cell, 
 
 Wearing out life's evening gray; 
 Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell, 
 
 What is bliss? and which the way?'" 
 
 BOSWELL. 'But why smite his bosom, Sir?' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, to shew he was in earnest,' (smiling.) He at an after 
 period added the following stanza: 
 
 'Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'd; 
 
 Scarce repress'd the starting tear; 
 When the smiling sage reply 'd 
 
 Come, my lad, and drink some beer.' 
 
 I cannot help thinking the first stanza very good solemn, 
 poetry, as also the three first lines of the second. Its last
 
 i777\ LORD SCARSDALE'S HOUSE 335 
 
 line is an excellent burlesque surprise on gloomy sentimental 
 enquirers. And, perhaps, the advice is as good as can be 
 given to a low-spirited dissatisfied being: 'Don't trouble 
 your head with sickly thinking: take a cup, and be merry.' 
 
 Friday, September 19, after breakfast Dr. Johnson and 
 I set out in Dr. Taylor's chaise to go to Derby. The day 
 was fine, and we resolved to go by Keddlestone, the seat 
 of Lord Scarsdale, that I might see his Lordship's fine house. 
 I was struck with the magnificence of the building; and the 
 extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with deer, 
 and cattle, and sheep, delighted me. The number of old 
 oaks, of an immense size, filled me with a sort of respect- 
 ful admiration: for one of them sixty pounds was offered. 
 The excellent smooth gravel roads; the large piece of water 
 formed by his Lordship from some small brooks, with a 
 handsome barge upon it; the venerable Gothick church, 
 now the family chapel, just by the house; in short, the 
 grand group of objects agitated and distended my mind in a 
 most agreeable manner. 'One should think (said I,) that 
 the proprietor of all this must be happy.' 'Nay, Sir, (said 
 Johnson,) all this excludes but one evil poverty.' 
 
 Our names were sent up, and a well-drest elderly house- 
 keeper, a most distinct articulator, shewed us the house; 
 which I need not describe, as there is an account of it 
 published in Adam's Works in Architecture. Dr. Johnson 
 thought better of it to-day than when he saw it before; 
 for he had lately attacked it violently, saying, 'It would 
 do excellently for a town-hall. The large room with the 
 pillars (said he,) would do for the Judges to sit in at the 
 assizes; the circular room for a jury-chamber; and the room 
 above for prisoners.' Still he thought the large room ill 
 lighted, and of no use but for dancing in ; and the bed-cham- 
 bers but indifferent rpoms; and that the immense sum 
 which it cost was injudiciously laid out. Dr. Taylor had 
 put him in mind of his appearing pleased with the house. 
 'But (said he,) that was when Lord Scarsdale was present. 
 Politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a man's works 
 when he is present. No man will be so ill bred as to ques- 
 tion you. You may therefore pay compliments without
 
 336 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 saying what is not true. I should say to Lord Scarsdale of 
 his large room, "My Lord, this is the most costly room that 
 I ever saw;" which is true.' 
 
 Dr. Manningham, physician in London, who was visiting 
 at Lord Scarsdale's, accompanyed us through many of the 
 rooms, and soon afterwards my Lord himself, to whom Dr. 
 Johnson was known, appeared, and did the honours of the 
 house. We talked of Mr. Langton. Johnson, with a warm 
 vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, 'The earth does 
 not bear a worthier man than Bennet Langton.' We saw 
 a good many fine pictures, which I think are described in one 
 of Young's Tours. There is a printed catalogue of them which 
 the housekeeper put into my hand ; I should like to view them 
 at leisure. I was much struck with Daniel interpreting 
 Nebuchadnezzar's dream by Rembrandt. We were shown 
 a pretty large library. In his Lordship's dressing-room lay 
 Johnson's small Dictionary : he shewed it to me, with some 
 eagerness, saying, ' Look'ye ! Quce terra nostri non plena laboris.' 
 He observed, also, Goldsmith's Animated Nature; and said, 
 'Here's our friend! The poor Doctor would have been 
 happy to hear of this.' 
 
 In our way, Johnson strongly expressed his love of driving 
 fast in a post-chaise. 'If (said he,) I had no duties, and no 
 reference to futurity, I would spend my life in driving briskly 
 in a post-chaise with a pretty woman ; but she should be one 
 who could understand me, and would add something to the 
 conversation.' I observed, that we were this day to stop 
 just where the Highland army did in 1745. JOHNSON. 'It 
 was a noble attempt.' Bos WELL. ' I wish we could have an 
 authentick history of it.' JOHNSON. 'If you were not an 
 idle dog you might write it, by collecting from every body 
 what they can tell, and putting down your authorities.' 
 Bos WELL. 'But I could not have the advantage of it in 
 my life-time.' JOHNSON. 'You might have the satisfaction 
 of its fame, by printing it in Holland; and as to profit, con- 
 sider how long it was before writing came to be considered 
 in a pecuniary view. Baretti says, he is the first man that 
 ever received copy-money in Italy.' I said that I would en- 
 deavour to do what Dr. Johnson suggested: and I thought
 
 1777] JOHNSON AND BOSWELL IN DERBY 337 
 
 that I might write so as to venture to publish my History of 
 the Civil War in Great-Britain in 1745 and 1746, without being 
 obliged to go to a foreign press. 
 
 When we arrived at Derby, Dr. Butter accompanied us 
 to see the manufactory of china there. I admired the in- 
 genuity and delicate art with which a man fashioned clay 
 into a cup, a saucer, or a tea-pot, while a boy turned round 
 a wheel to give the mass rotundity. I thought this as ex- 
 cellent in its species of power, as making good verses in its 
 species. Yet I had no respect for this potter. Neither, 
 indeed, has a man of any extent of thinking for a mere verse- 
 maker, in whose numbers, however perfect, there is no poetry,, 
 no mind. The china was beautiful, but Dr. Johnson justly 
 observed it was too dear; for that he could have vessels of 
 silver, of the same size, as cheap as what were here made 
 of porcelain. 
 
 I felt a pleasure in walking about Derby such as I always 
 have in walking about any town to which I am not accus- 
 tomed. There is an immediate sensation of novelty; and 
 one speculates on the way in which life is passed in it, which, 
 although there is a sameness every where upon the whole, 
 is yet minutely diversified. The minute diversities in every 
 thing are wonderful. Talking of shaving the other night at 
 Dr. Taylor's, Dr. Johnson said, 'Sir, of a thousand shavers, 
 two do not shave so much alike as not to be distinguished.' 
 I thought this not possible, till he specified so many of the 
 varieties in shaving; holding the razor more or less per- 
 pendicular; drawing long or short strokes; beginning at 
 the upper part of the face, or the under; at the right side 
 or the left side. Indeed, when one considers what variety 
 of sounds can be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass of 
 a very small aperture, we may be convinced how many de- 
 grees of difference there may be in the application of a razor. 
 
 We dined with Dr. Butter, whose lady is daughter of my 
 cousin Sir John Douglas, whose grandson is now presumptive 
 heir of the noble family of Queensberry. Johnson and he 
 had a good deal of medical conversation. Johnson said, he 
 had somewhere or other given an account of Dr. Nichols's 
 discourse De Anima Medica. He told us 'that whatever a
 
 338 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 man's distemper was, Dr. Nichols would not attend him as 
 a physician, if his mind was not at ease; for he believed that 
 no medicines would have any influence. He once attended 
 a man in trade, upon whom he found none of the medicines 
 he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife pri- 
 vately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? She said 
 no. He continued his attendance some time, still without 
 success. At length the man's wife told him, she had dis- 
 covered that her husband's affairs were in a bad way. When 
 Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton said to him, "Your pulse 
 is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of 
 fever which you have: is your mind at ease?" Goldsmith 
 answered it was not.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson told us at tea, that when some of Dr. Dodd's 
 pious friends were trying to console him by saying that he 
 was going to leave 'a wretched world,' he had honesty 
 enough not to join in the cant: 'No, no, (said he,) it has 
 been a. very agreeable world to me.' Johnson added, 'I 
 respect Dodd for thus speaking the truth; for, to be sure, 
 he had for several years enjoyed a life of great voluptuous- 
 ness.' ' 
 
 He told us, that Dodd's city friends stood by him so, that 
 a thousand pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if 
 he would let him escape. He added, that he knew a friend 
 of Dodd's, who walked about Newgate for some time on the 
 evening before the day of his execution, with five hundred 
 pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turn- 
 keys who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was 
 watched with much circumspection. He said, Dodd's friends 
 had an image of him made of wax, which was to have been 
 left in his place; and he believed it was carried into the 
 prison. 
 
 Johnson disapproved of Dr. Dodd's leaving the world per- 
 suaded that The Convict's Address to his unhappy Brethren 
 was of his own writing. 'But, Sir, (said I,) you contributed 
 to the deception; for when Mr. Seward expressed a doubt 
 to you that it was not Dodd's own, because it had a great 
 deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be 
 his, you answered, "Why should vou think so? Depend
 
 1777] GETTING UP EARLY 339 
 
 upon it, Sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a 
 fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.'" JOHN- 
 SON. ' Sir, as Dodd got it from me to pass as his own, while 
 that could do him any good, there was an implied promise 
 that I should not own it. To own it, therefore, would have 
 been telling a lie, with the addition of breach of promise, 
 which was worse than simply telling a lie to make it be be- 
 lieved it was Dodd's. Besides, Sir, I did not directly tell a 
 lie: I left the matter uncertain. Perhaps I thought that 
 Seward would not believe it the less to be mine for what I 
 said; but I would not put it in his power to say I had owned 
 it.' 
 
 He said, ' Goldsmith was a plant that flowered late. There 
 appeared nothing remarkable about him when he was young; 
 though when he had got high in fame, one of his friends be- 
 gan to recollect something of his being distinguished at Col- 
 lege. Goldsmith in the same manner recollected more of 
 that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man.' 
 
 I mentioned that Lord Monboddo told me, he awaked 
 every morning at four, and then for his health got up and 
 walked in his room naked, with the window open, which he 
 called taking an air bath; after which he went to bed again, 
 and slept two hours more. Johnson, who was always ready 
 to beat down any thing that seemed to be exhibited with 
 disproportionate importance, thus observed: 'I suppose, Sir, 
 there is no more in it than this, he awakes at four, and can- 
 not sleep till he chills himself, and makes the warmth of the 
 bed a grateful sensation.' 
 
 I talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. Dr. 
 Johnson told me, 'that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that 
 period when she was eager in study, did not awake as early 
 as she wished, and she therefore had a contrivance, that, at 
 a certain hour, her chamber-light should burn a string to 
 which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with 
 a strong sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then 
 she had no difficulty in getting up.' But I said that was my 
 difficulty; and wished there could be some medicine invented 
 which would make one rise without pain, which I never did, 
 unless after lying in bed a very long time.
 
 340 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 11777 
 
 Johnson advised me to-night not to refine in the education 
 of my children. 'Life (said he,) will not bear refinement: 
 you must do as other people do.' 
 
 As we drove back to Ashbourne, Dr. Johnson recom- 
 mended to me, as he had often done, to drink water only: 
 'For (said he,) you are then sure not to get drunk; whereas 
 if you drink wine you are never sure.' I said, drinking wine 
 was a pleasure which I was unwilling to give up, 'Why, Sir, 
 (said he,) there is no doubt that not to drink wine is a great 
 deduction from life; but it may be necessary.' He however 
 owned, that in his opinion a free use of wine did not shorten 
 life; and said, he would not give less for the life of a certain 
 Scotch Lord (whom he named) celebrated for hard drinking, 
 than for that of a sober man. 'But stay, (said he, with his 
 usual intelligence, and accuracy of enquiry,) does it take 
 much wine to make him drunk ? ' I answered, ' a great deal 
 either of wine or strong punch.' 'Then (said he,) that is 
 the worse.' I presume to illustrate my friend's observation 
 thus: 'A fortress which soon surrenders has its walls less 
 shattered than when a long and obstinate resistance is made.' 
 
 I ventured to mention a person who was as violent a 
 Scotsman as he was an Englishman; and literally had the 
 same contempt for an Englishman compared with a Scots- 
 man, that he had for a Scotsman compared with an English- 
 man; and that he would say of Dr. Johnson, 'Damned rascal ! 
 to talk as he does of the Scotch.' This seemed, for a moment, 
 'to give him pause.' It, perhaps, presented his extreme 
 prejudice against the Scotch in a point of view somewhat 
 new to him, by the effect of contrast. 
 
 By the time when we returned to Ashbourne, Dr. Taylor 
 was gone to bed. Johnson and I sat up a long time by our- 
 selves. 
 
 On Saturday, September 20, after breakfast, when Taylor 
 was gone out to his farm, Dr. Johnson and I had a serious 
 conversation by ourselves on melancholy and madness. 
 
 We entered seriously upon a question of much importance 
 to me, which Johnson was pleased to consider with friendly 
 attention. I had long complained to him that I felt myself 
 discontented in Scotland, as too narrow a sphere, and that I
 
 1777] HIS LOVE FOR LONDON 341 
 
 wished to make my chief residence in London, the great scene 
 of ambition, instruction, and amusement: a scene, which was 
 to me, comparatively speaking, a heaven upon earth. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Why, Sir, I never knew any one who had such a 
 gust for London as you have: and I cannot blame you for 
 your wish to live there: yet, Sir, were I in your father's place, 
 I should not consent to your settling there; for I have the 
 old feudal notions, and I should be afraid that Auchinleck 
 would be deserted, as you would soon find it more desirable 
 to have a country-seat in a better climate.' 
 
 I suggested a doubt, that if I were to reside in London, 
 the exquisite zest with which I relished it in occasional 
 visits might go off, and I might grow tired of it. JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is will- 
 ing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of Lon- 
 don, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can 
 afford.' 
 
 He said, 'A country gentleman should bring his lady to 
 visit London as soon as he can, that they may have agree- 
 able topicks for conversation when they are by themselves.' 
 
 We talked of employment being absolutely necessary to 
 preserve the mind from wearying and growing fretful, espe- 
 cially in those who have a tendency to melancholy; and I 
 mentioned to him a saying which somebody had related of 
 an American savage, who, when an European was expatiat- 
 ing on all the advantages of money, put this question : ' Will 
 it purchase occupation ? ' JOHNSON. ' Depend upon it, Sir, 
 this saying is too refined for a savage. And, Sir, money will 
 purchase occupation; it will purchase all the conveniences 
 of life; it will purchase variety of company; it will purchase 
 all sorts of entertainment.' 
 
 I talked to him of Forster's Voyage to the South Seas, 
 which pleased me; but I found he did not like it. 'Sir, 
 (said he,) there is a great affectation of fine writing in it.' 
 BOSWELL. 'But he carries you along with him.' JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir; he does not carry me along with him: he leaves 
 me behind him: or rather, indeed, he sets me before him; 
 for he makes me turn over many leaves at a time.' 
 
 On Sunday, September 21, we went to the church of Ash-
 
 342 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 bourne, which is one of the largest and most luminous that 
 I have seen in any town of the same size. I felt great satis- 
 faction in considering that I was supported in my fondness 
 for solemn publick worship by the general concurrence and 
 munificence of mankind. 
 
 Johnson and Taylor were so different from each other, 
 that I wondered at their preserving an intimacy. Their 
 having been at school and college together, might, in some 
 degree, account for this; but Sir Joshua Reynolds has fur- 
 nished me with a stronger reason; for Johnson mentioned 
 to him, that he had been told by Taylor he was to be his 
 heir. I shall not take upon me to animadvert upon this; 
 but certain it is, that Johnson paid great attention to Taylor. 
 He now, however, said to me, 'Sir, I love him; but I do not 
 love him more; my regard for him does not increase. As 
 it is said in the Apocrypha, "his talk is of bullocks:" I do 
 not suppose he is very fond of my company. His habits are 
 by no means sufficiently clerical: this he knows that I see; 
 and no man likes to live under the eye of perpetual disap- 
 probation.' 
 
 I have no doubt that a good many sermons were com- 
 posed for Taylor by Johnson. At this time I found, upon 
 his table, a part of one which he had newly begun to write: 
 and Concio pro Taylor o appears in one of his diaries. When 
 to these circumstances we add the internal evidence from 
 the power of thinking and style, in the collection which the 
 Reverend Mr. Hayes has published, with the significant 
 title of 'Sermons left for publication by the Reverend John 
 Taylor, LL.D.,' our conviction will be complete. 
 
 I, however, would not have it thought, that Dr. Taylor, 
 though he could not write like Johnson, (as, indeed, who 
 could?) did not sometimes compose sermons as good as those 
 which we generally have from very respectable divines. He 
 shewed me one with notes on the margin in Johnson's hand- 
 writing; and I was present when he read another to Johnson, 
 that he might have his opinion of it, and Johnson said it 
 was 'very well.' These, we may be sure, were not Johnson's; 
 for he was above little arts, or tricks of deception. 
 
 I mentioned to Johnson a respectable person of # very
 
 1777] CONTEMPT FOR PLAYERS 34$ 
 
 strong mind, who had little of that tenderness which is com- 
 mon to human nature; as an instance of which, when I sug- 
 gested to him that he should invite his son, who had been 
 settled ten years in foreign parts, to come home and pay 
 him a visit, his answer was, 'No, no, let him mind his busi- 
 ness.' JOHNSON. 'I do not agree with him, Sir, in this. 
 Getting money is not all a man's business: to cultivate 
 kindness is a valuable part of the business of life.' 
 
 In the evening, Johnson, being in very good spirits, enter- 
 tained us with several characteristical portraits. I regret 
 that any of them escaped my retention and diligence. I 
 found, from experience, that to collect my friend's conversa- 
 tion so as to exhibit it with any degree of its original flavour, 
 it was necessary to write it down without delay. To record 
 his sayings, after some distance of time, was like preserving 
 or pickling long-kept and faded fruits, or other vegetables, 
 which, when in that state, have little or nothing of their 
 taste when fresh. 
 
 I shall present my readers with a series of what I gathered 
 this evening from the Johnsonian garden. 
 
 'Did we not hear so much said of Jack Wilkes, we should 
 think more highly of his conversation. Jack has great 
 variety of talk, Jack is a scholar, and Jack has the manners 
 of a gentleman. But after hearing his name sounded from 
 pole to pole, as the phoenix of convivial felicity, we are dis- 
 appointed in his company. He has always been at me: 
 but I would do Jack a kindness, rather than not. The con- 
 test is now over.' 
 
 'Colley Gibber once consulted me as to one of his birth- 
 day Odes, a long time before it was wanted. I objected very 
 freely to several passages. Gibber lost patience, and would 
 not read his Ode to an end. When we had done with criti- 
 cism, we walked over to Richardson's, the authour of Clarissa, 
 and I wondered to find Richardson displeased that I "did 
 not treat Gibber with more respect." Now, Sir, to talk of 
 respect for a player!' (smiling disdainfully.) BOSWELL. 
 'There, Sir, you are always heretical: you never will allow 
 merit to a player.' JOHNSON. 'Merit, Sir! what merit? 
 Do you respect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-singer?' Bos-
 
 344 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 WELL. 'No, Sir: but we respect a great player, as a man 
 who can conceive lofty sentiments, and can express them 
 gracefully.' JOHNSON. 'What, Sir, a fellow who claps a 
 hump on his back, and a lump on his leg, and cries "I am 
 Richard the Third"? Nay, Sir, a ballad-singer is a higher 
 man, for he does two things; he repeats and he sings: there 
 is both recitation and musick in his performance: the player 
 only recites.' BOSWELL. 'My dear Sir! you may turn any- 
 thing into ridicule. I allow, that a player of farce is not 
 entitled to respect; he does a little thing: but he who can 
 represent exalted characters, and touch the noblest passions, 
 has very respectable powers; and mankind have agreed in 
 admiring great talents for the stage. We must consider, too, 
 that a great player does what very few are capable to do: 
 his art is a very rare faculty. Who can repeat Hamlet's solil- 
 oquy, "To be, or not to be," as Garrick does it?' JOHNSON. 
 'Any body may. Jemmy, there (a boy about eight years 
 old, who was in the room,) will do it as well in a week.' 
 BOSWELL. 'No, no, Sir: and as a proof of the merit of 
 great acting, and of the value which mankind set upon it, 
 Garrick has got a hundred thousand pounds.' JOHNSON. 
 'Is getting a hundred thousand pounds a proof of excel- 
 lence? That has been done by a scoundrel commissary.' 
 
 This was most fallacious reasoning. I was sure, for once, 
 that I had the best side of the argument. I boldly main- 
 tained the just distinction between a tragedian and a mere 
 theatrical droll; between those who rouse our terrour and 
 pity, and those who only make us laugh. 'If (said I,) Bet- 
 terton and Foote were to walk into this room, you would 
 respect Betterton much more than Foote.' JOHNSON. 'If 
 Betterton were to walk into this room with Foote, Foote 
 would soon drive him out of it. Foote, Sir, quatenus Foote, 
 has powers superiour to them all.' 
 
 On Monday, September 22, when at breakfast, I un- 
 guardedly said to Dr. Johnson, 'I wish I saw you and Mrs. 
 Macaulay together.' He grew very angry; and, after a 
 pause, while a cloud gathered on his brow, he burst out, 
 'No, Sir; you would not see us quarrel, to make you sport. 
 Don't you know that it is very uncivil to pit two people
 
 1777] THE MINUTIAE OF LIFE 345 
 
 against one another?' Then, checking himself, and wishing 
 to be more gentle, he added, 'I do not say you should be 
 hanged or drowned for this; but it is very uncivil.' Dr. 
 Taylor thought him in the wrong, and spoke to him pri- 
 vately of it; but I afterwards acknowledged to Johnson that 
 I was to blame, for I candidly owned, that I meant to express 
 a desire to see a contest between Mrs. Macaulay and him; 
 but then I knew how the contest would end; so that I was 
 to see him triumph. JOHNSON. 'Sir, you cannot be sure 
 how a contest will end; and no man has a right to engage 
 two people in a dispute by which then- passions may be in- 
 flamed, and they may part with bitter resentment against 
 each other. I would sooner keep company with a man from 
 whom I must guard my pockets, than with a man who con- 
 trives to bring me into a dispute with somebody that he 
 
 may hear it. This is the great fault of , (naming one 
 
 of our friends,) endeavouring to introduce a subject upon 
 which he knows two people in the company differ.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'But he told me, Sir, he does it for instruction.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Whatever the motive be, Sir, the man who 
 does so, does very wrong. He has no more right to instruct 
 himself at such risk, than he has to make two people fight 
 a duel, that he may learn how to defend himself.' 
 
 He found great fault with a gentleman of our acquain- 
 tance for keeping a bad table. 'Sir, (said he,) when a man 
 is invited to dinner, he is disappointed if he does not get 
 something good. I advised Mrs. Thrale, who has no card- 
 parties at her house, to give sweet-meats, and such good 
 things, in an evening, as are not commonly given, and she 
 would find company enough come to her; for every body 
 loves to have things which please the palate put in their 
 way, without trouble or preparation.' Such was his atten- 
 tion to the minutiae of life and manners. 
 
 Mr. Burke's Letter to the Sheriffs of Bristol, on the affairs 
 of America, being mentioned, Johnson censured the com- 
 position much, and he ridiculed the definition of a free 
 government, viz. 'For any practical purpose, it is what the 
 people think so.' 'I will let the King of France govern 
 me on those conditions, (said he,) for it is to be governed
 
 346 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 just as I please.' And when Dr. Taylor talked of a girl 
 being sent to a parish workhouse, and asked how much she 
 could be obliged to work, 'Why, (said Johnson,) as much 
 as is reasonable: and what is that? as much as she thinks 
 reasonable.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson obligingly proposed to carry me to see Islam, 
 a romantick scene, now belonging to a family of the name 
 of Port, but formerly the seat of the Congreves. I suppose 
 it is well described in some of the Tours. Johnson de- 
 scribed it distinctly and vividly, at which I could not but 
 express to him my wonder; because, though my eyes, as he 
 observed, were better than his, I could not by any means 
 equal him in representing visible objects. I said, the differ- 
 ence between us in this respect was as that between a man 
 who has a bad instrument, but plays well on it, and a man 
 who has a good instrument, on which he can play very im- 
 perfectly. 
 
 I recollect a very fine amphitheatre, surrounded with 
 hills covered with woods, and walks neatly formed along 
 the side of a rocky steep, on the quarter next the house 
 with recesses under projections of rock, overshadowed with 
 trees; in one of which recesses, we were told, Congreve 
 wrote his Old Bachelor. We viewed a remarkable natural 
 curiosity at Islam; two rivers bursting near each other 
 from the rock, not from immediate springs, but after having 
 run for many miles under ground. Plott> hi his History of 
 Staffordshire, gives an account of this curiosity; but John- 
 son would not believe it, though we had the attestation of 
 the gardener, who said, he had put in corks, where the river 
 Many fold sinks into the ground, and had catched them in a 
 net, placed before one of the openings where the water 
 bursts out. Indeed, such subterraneous courses of water 
 are found in various parts of our globe. 
 
 Talking of Dr. Johnson's unwillingness to believe extraor- 
 dinary things I ventured to say, 'Sir, you come near Hume's 
 argument against miracles, "That it is more probable wit- 
 nesses should lie, or be mistaken, than that they should hap- 
 pen.'" JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, Hume, taking the proposi- 
 tion simply, is right. But the Christian revelation is not
 
 1777] REPROOF FOR PROFANITY 347 
 
 proved by the miracles alone, but as connected with proph- 
 ecies, and with the doctrines in confirmation of which the 
 miracles were wrought.' 
 
 In the evening, a gentleman-farmer, who was on a visit 
 at Dr. Taylor's, attempted to dispute with Johnson in favour 
 of Mungo Campbell, who shot Alexander, Earl of Eglin- 
 toune, upon his having fallen, when retreating from his 
 Lordship, who he believed was about to seize his gun, as he 
 had threatened to do. He said, he should have done just as 
 Campbell did. JOHNSON. ' Whoever would do as Campbell 
 did, deserves to be hanged; not that I could, as a juryman, 
 have found him legally guilty of murder; but I am glad 
 they found means to convict him.' The gentleman-farmer 
 said, 'A poor man has as much honour as a rich man; and 
 Campbell had that to defend.' Johnson exclaimed, 'A poor 
 man has no honour.' The English yeoman, not dismayed, 
 proceeded: 'Lord Eglintoune was a damned fool to run on 
 upon Campbell, after being warned that Campbell would 
 shoot him if he did.' Johnson, who could not bear any 
 thing like swearing, angrily replied, ''He was not a damned 
 fool:, he only thought too well of Campbell. He did not 
 believe Campbell would be such a damned scoundrel, as to 
 do so damned a thing.' His emphasis on damned, accom- 
 panied with frowning looks, reproved his opponent's want 
 of decorum in his presence. 
 
 During this interview at Ashbourne, Johnson seemed to 
 be more uniformly social, cheerful, and alert, than I had 
 almost ever seen him. He was prompt on great occasions 
 and on small. Taylor, who praised every thing of his own 
 to excess; in short, 'whose geese were all swans,' as the 
 proverb says, expatiated on the excellence of his bull-dog, 
 which, he told us, was 'perfectly well shaped.' Johnson, 
 after examining the animal attentively, thus repressed the 
 vain-glory of our host: 'No, Sir, he is not well shaped; 
 for there is not the quick transition from the thickness of 
 the fore-part, to the tenuity the thin part behind, which 
 a" bull-dog ought to have.' This tenuity was the only hard 
 word that I heard him use during this interview, and it will 
 be observed; he instantly put another expression in its place.
 
 348 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 Taylor said, a small bull-dog was as good as a large one. 
 JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; for, in proportion to his size, he has 
 strength: and your argument would prove, that a good 
 bull-dog may be as small as a mouse.' It was amazing how 
 he entered with perspicuity and keenness upon every thing 
 that occurred in conversation. Most men, whom I know, 
 would no more think of discussing a question about a bull-dog, 
 than of attacking a bull. 
 
 I cannot allow any fragment whatever that floats in my 
 memory concerning the great subject of this work to be 
 lost. Though a small particular may appear trifling to 
 some, it will be relished by others; while every little spark 
 adds something to the general blaze: and to please the 
 true, candid, warm admirers of Johnson, and in any degree 
 increase the splendour of his reputation, I bid defiance to 
 the shafts of ridicule, or even of malignity. Showers of 
 them have been discharged at my Journal of a Tour to the 
 Hebrides; yet it still sails unhurt along the stream of time, 
 and, as an attendant upon Johnson, 
 
 'Pursues the triumph, and partakes the gale.' 
 
 One morning after breakfast, when the sun shone bright, 
 we walked out together, and 'pored' for some time with 
 placid indolence upon an artificial water-fall, which Dr. 
 Taylor had made by building a strong dyke of stone across 
 the river behind the garden. It was now somewhat ob- 
 structed by branches of trees and other rubbish, which had 
 come down the river, and settled close to it. Johnson^ 
 partly from a desire to see it play more freely, and partly 
 from that inclination to activity which will animate, at 
 tunes, the most inert and sluggish mortal, took a long pole 
 which was lying on a bank, and pushed down several parcels 
 of this wreck with painful assiduity, while I stood quietly 
 by, wondering to behold the sage thus curiously employed, 
 and smiling with an humorous satisfaction each time when 
 he carried his point. He worked till he was quite out of 
 breath; and having found a large dead cat so heavy that 
 he could not move it after several efforts, 'Come,' said he,
 
 1777] PRIOR'S POEMS 
 
 (throwing down the pole,) 'you shall take it now;' which I 
 accordingly did, and being a fresh man, soon made the cat 
 tumble over the cascade. This may be laughed at as too 
 trifling to record; but it is a small characteristick trait in 
 the Flemish picture which I give of my friend, and in which, 
 therefore I mark the most minute particulars. And let it 
 be remembered, that jEsop at play is one of the instructive 
 apologues of antiquity. 
 
 Talking of Rochester's Poems, he said, he had given them 
 to Mr. Steevens to castrate for the edition of the poets, to 
 which he was to write Prefaces. Dr. Taylor (the only time 
 I ever heard him say any thing witty) observed, that 'if 
 Rochester had been castrated himself, his exceptionable 
 poems would not have been written.' I asked if Burnet 
 had not given a good Life of Rochester. JOHNSON. 'We 
 have a good Death : there is not much Life.' I asked whether 
 Prior's Poems were to be printed entire: Johnson said they 
 were. I mentioned Lord Hailes's censure of Prior, in his 
 Preface to a collection of Sacred Poems, by various hands, 
 published by him at Edinburgh a great many years ago, 
 where he mentions, 'those impure tales which will be the 
 eternal opprobrium of their ingenious authour.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, Lord Hailes has forgot. There is nothing in Prior that 
 will excite to lewdness. If Lord Hailes thinks there is, he 
 must be more combustible than other people.' I instanced 
 the tale of Paulo Piarganti and his Wife. JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 there is nothing there, but that his wife wanted to be kissed 
 when poor Paulo was out of pocket. No, Sir, Prior is a 
 lady's book. No lady is ashamed to have it standing in her 
 library.' 
 
 The hypochondriack disorder being mentioned, Dr. John- 
 son did not think it so common as I supposed. 'Dr. Taylor 
 (said he,) is the same one day as another. Burke and 
 Reynolds are the same; Beauclerk, except when in pain, 
 is the same. I am not so myself; but this I do not men- 
 tion commonly.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson advised me to-day, to have as many books 
 about me as I could; that I might read upon any subject 
 upon which I had a desire for instruction at the time. 'What
 
 350 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 you read then (said he,) you will remember; but if you have 
 not a book immediately ready, and the subject moulds in 
 your mind, it is a chance if you again have a desire to study 
 it.' He added, 'If a man never has an eager desire for in- 
 struction, he should prescribe a task for himself. But it is 
 better when a man reads from immediate inclination.' 
 
 He repeated a good many lines of Horace's Odes, while 
 we were in the chaise. I remember particularly the Ode 
 Eheu fugaces. 
 
 He told me that Bacon was a favourite authour with him; 
 but he had never read his works till he was compiling the 
 English Dictionary, in which, he said, I might see Bacon very 
 often quoted. Mr. Seward recollects his having mentioned, 
 that a Dictionary of the English Language might be com- 
 piled from Bacon's writings alone, and that he had once an 
 intention of giving an edition of Bacon, at least of his Eng- 
 lish works, and writing the Life of that great man. Had he 
 executed this intention, there can be no doubt that he would 
 have done it in a most masterly .manner. 
 
 Wishing to be satisfied what degree of truth there was in 
 a story which a friend of Johnson's and mine had told me 
 to his disadvantage, I mentioned it to him in direct terms; 
 and it was to this effect: that a gentleman who had lived 
 in great intimacy with him, shewn him much kindness, and 
 even relieved him from a spunging-house, having afterwards 
 fallen into bad circumstances, was one day, when Johnson 
 was at dinner with him, seized for debt, and carried to 
 prison; that Johnson sat still undisturbed, and went on 
 eating and drinking; upon which the gentleman's sister, who 
 was present, could not suppress her indignation: 'What, 
 Sir, (said she,) are you so unfeeling, as not even to offer to 
 go to my brother in his distress; you who have been so much 
 obliged to him?' And that Johnson answered, 'Madam, 
 I owe him no obligation; what he did for me he would have 
 done for a dog.' 
 
 Johnson assured me, that the story was absolutely false: 
 but like a man conscious of being in the right, and desirous 
 of completely vindicating himself from such a charge, he did 
 not arrogantly rest on a mere denial, and on his general
 
 1777] PRONUNCIATION 351 
 
 character, but proceeded thus: 'Sir, I was very intimate 
 with that gentleman, and was once relieved by him from an 
 arrest; but I never was present when he -was arrested, never 
 knew that he was arrested, and I believe he never was in 
 difficulties after the time when he relieved me. I loved him 
 much; yet, in talking of his general character, I may have 
 said, though I do not remember that I ever did say so, that 
 as his generosity proceeded from no principle, but was a 
 part of his profusion, he would do for a dog what he would 
 do for a friend: but I never applied this remark to any par- 
 ticular instance, and certainly not to his kindness to me. 
 If a profuse man, who does not value his money, and gives a 
 large sum to a whore, gives half as much, or an equally large 
 sum to relieve a friend, it cannot be esteemed as virtue. 
 This was all that I could say of that gentleman; and, if 
 said at all, it must have been said after his death. Sir, I 
 would have gone to the world's end to relieve him. The re- 
 mark about the dog, if made by me, was such a sally as 
 might escape one when painting a man highly.' 
 
 On Tuesday, September 23, Johnson was remarkably cor- 
 dial to me. It being necessary for me to return to Scotland 
 soon, I had fixed on the next day for my setting out, and I 
 felt a tender concern at the thought of parting with him. 
 He had, at this tune, frankly communicated to me many 
 particulars, which are inserted in this work in their proper 
 places; and once, when I happened to mention that the 
 expence of my jaunt would come to much more than I had 
 computed, he said, 'Why, Sir, if the expence were to be an 
 inconvenience, you would have reason to regret it: but, if 
 you have had the money to spend, I know not that you could 
 have purchased as much pleasure with it in any other way.' 
 
 I perceived that he pronounced the word heard, as if spelt 
 with a double e, heerd, instead of sounding it herd, as is most 
 usually done. He said, his reason was, that if it was pro- 
 nounced herd, there would be a single exception from the 
 English pronunciation of the syllable ear, and he thought it 
 better not to have that exception. 
 
 In the evening our gentleman-farmer, and two others, en- 
 tertained themselves and the company with a great number
 
 352 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1777 
 
 of tunes on the fiddle. Johnson desired to have 'Let am- 
 bition fire thy mind,' played over again, and appeared to 
 give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me that 
 he was very insensible to the power of musick. I told him, 
 that it affected me to such a degree, as often to agitate my 
 nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate sensations 
 of pathetick dejection, so that I was ready to shed tears; 
 and of daring resolution, so that I was inclined to rush into 
 the thickest part of the battle. ' Sir, (said he,) I should never 
 hear it, if it made me such a fool.' 
 
 This evening, while some of the tunes of ordinary com- 
 position were played with no great skill, my frame was agi- 
 tated, and I was conscious of a generous attachment to Dr. 
 Johnson, as my preceptor and friend, mixed with an affec- 
 tionate regret that he was an old man, whom I should prob- 
 ably lose in a short time. I thought I could defend him at 
 the point of my sword. My reverence and affection for him 
 were in full glow. I said to him, 'My dear Sir, we must 
 meet every year, if you don't quarrel with me.' JOHNSON. 
 'Nay, Sir, you are more likely to quarrel with me, than I 
 with you. My regard for you is greater almost than I have 
 words to express; but I do not choose to be always repeat- 
 ing it; write it down in the first leaf of your pocket-book, 
 and never doubt of it again.' 
 
 I talked to him of misery being 'the doom of man' in this 
 life, as displayed in his Vanity of Human Wishes. Yet I 
 observed that things were done upon the supposition of 
 happiness; grand houses were built, fine gardens were made, 
 splendid places of publick amusement were contrived, and 
 crowded with company. JOHNSON. 'Alas, Sir, these are all 
 only struggles for happiness. When I first entered Rane- 
 lagh, it gave an expansion and gay sensation to my mind, 
 such as I never experienced any where else. But, as Xerxes 
 wept when he viewed his immense army, and considered 
 that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hun- 
 dred years afterwards, so it went to my heart to consider 
 that there was not one in all that brilliant circle, that was 
 not afraid to go home and think; but that the thoughts of 
 each individual there, would be distressing when alone.'
 
 1777] DISLIKE OF SLAVERY 353 
 
 I suggested, that being in love, and flattered with hopes of 
 success; or having some favourite scheme in view for the 
 next day, might prevent that wretchedness of which we had 
 been talking. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it may sometimes be 
 so as you suppose; but my conclusion is in general but too 
 true.' 
 
 While Johnson and I stood in calm conference by our- 
 selves in Dr. Taylor's garden, at a pretty late hour in a 
 serene autumn night, looking up to the heavens, I directed 
 the discourse to the subject of a future state. My friend 
 was in a placid and most benignant frame. 'Sir, (said he,) 
 I do not imagine that all things will be made clear to us im- 
 mediately after death, but that the ways of Providence will 
 be explained to us very gradually.' He talked to me upon 
 this aweful and delicate question in a gentle tone, and as if 
 afraid to be decisive. 
 
 After supper I accompanied him to his apartment, and at 
 my request he dictated to me an argument in favour of the 
 negro who was then claiming his liberty, in an action in the 
 Court of Session in Scotland. He had always been very 
 zealous against slavery in every form, in which I, with all 
 deference, thought that he discovered ' a zeal without knowl- 
 edge.' Upon one occasion, when in company with some 
 very grave men at Oxford, his toast was, ' Here's to the next 
 insurrection of the negroes in the West Indies.' His violent 
 prejudice against our West Indian and American settlers 
 appeared whenever there was an opportunity. Towards 
 the conclusion of his Taxation no Tyranny, he says, 'how is 
 it that we hear the loudest yelps for liberty among the drivers 
 of negroes ? ' 
 
 When I said now to Johnson, that I was afraid I kept him 
 too late up. 'No, Sir, (said he,) I don't care though I sit 
 all night with you.' This was an animated speech from a 
 man in his sixty-ninth year. 
 
 Had I been as attentive not to displease him as I ought to 
 have been, I know not but this vigil might have been ful- 
 filled; but I unluckily entered upon the controversy con- 
 cerning the right of Great-Britain to tax America, and at- 
 tempted to argue in favour of our fellow-subjects on the
 
 354 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 11777 
 
 other side of the Atlantick. I insisted that America might 
 be very well governed, and made to yield sufficient revenue 
 by the means of influence, as exemplified in Ireland, while 
 the people might be pleased with the imagination of their 
 participating of the British constitution, by having a body 
 of representatives, without whose consent money could not 
 be exacted from them. Johnson could not bear my thus 
 opposing his avowed opinion, which he had exerted himself 
 with an extreme degree of heat to enforce; and the violent 
 agitation into which he was thrown, while answering, or 
 rather reprimanding me, alarmed me so, that I heartily re- 
 pented of my having unthinkingly introduced the subject. 
 I myself, however, grew warm, and the change was great, 
 from the calm state of philosophical discussion in which we 
 had a little before been pleasingly employed. 
 
 We were fatigued by the contest, which was produced by 
 my want of caution; and he was not then in the humour to 
 slide into easy and cheerful talk. It therefore so happened, 
 that we were after an hour or two very willing to separate 
 and go to bed. 
 
 On Wednesday, September 24, I went into Dr. Johnson's 
 room before he got up, and finding that the storm of the pre- 
 ceding night was quite laid, I sat down upon his bed-side, 
 and he talked with as much readiness and good-humour as 
 ever. He recommended to me to plant a considerable part 
 of a large moorish farm which I had purchased, and he made 
 several calculations of the expence and profit: for he de- 
 lighted in exercising his mind on the science of numbers. 
 He pressed upon me the importance of planting at the first 
 in a very sufficient manner, quoting the saying 'In bello non 
 licet bis errare :' and adding, 'this is equally true in planting.' 
 
 I spoke with gratitude of Dr. Taylor's hospitality; and, 
 as evidence that it was not on account of his good table 
 alone that Johnson visited him often, I mentioned a little 
 anecdote which had escaped my friend's recollection, and at 
 hearing which repeated, he smiled. One evening, when I was 
 sitting with him, Frank delivered this message : ' Sir, Dr. Tay- 
 lor sends his compliments to you, and begs you will dine 
 with him to-morrow. He has got a hare.' 'My compli-
 
 1777] AN INNKEEPER'S VIEW OF JOHNSON 355 
 
 ments (said Johnson,) and I'll dine with him hare or 
 rabbit.' 
 
 After breakfast I departed, and pursued my journey 
 northwards. I took my post-chaise from the Green Man, 
 a very good inn at Ashbourne, the mistress of which, a 
 mighty civil gentlewoman, courtseying very low, presented 
 me with an engraving of the sign of her house; to which she 
 had subjoined, in her own hand-writing, an address in such 
 singular simplicity of style, that I have preserved it pasted 
 upon one of the boards of my original Journal at this time, 
 and shall here insert it for the amusement of my readers: 
 
 'M. KILLINGLEY's duty waits upon Mr. Boswell, is ex- 
 ceedingly obliged to him for this favour; whenever he comes this 
 way, hopes for a continuance of the same. Would Mr. Boswell 
 name the house to his extensive acquaintance, it would be a 
 singular favour conferr'd on one who has it not in her power to 
 make any other return but her most grateful thanks, and sincerest 
 prayers for his happiness in time, and in a blessed eternity. 
 Tuesday morn.' 
 
 I cannot omit a curious circumstance which occurred at 
 Edensor-inn, close by Chatsworth, to survey the magnifi- 
 cence of which I had gone a considerable way out of my 
 road to Scotland. The inn was then kept by a very jolly 
 landlord, whose name, I think, was Malton. He happened 
 to mention that 'the celebrated Dr. Johnson had been in his 
 house.' I inquired who this Dr. Johnson was, that I might 
 hear mine host's notion of him. 'Sir, (said he,) Johnson, the 
 great writer; Oddity, as they call him. He's the greatest 
 writer in England; he writes for the ministry; he has a 
 correspondence abroad, and lets them know what's going on.' 
 
 My friend, who had a thorough dependance upon the 
 authenticity of my relation without any embellishment, as 
 falsehood or fiction is too gently called, laughed a good deal 
 at this representation of himself. 
 
 On Wednesday, March 18, * I arrived in London, and was 
 informed by good Mr. Francis that his master was better, 
 and was gone to Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, to which place 
 I wrote to him, begging to know when he would be in town. 
 
 1778.
 
 356 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 He was not expected for some time; but next day having 
 called on Dr. Taylor, in Dean's-yard, Westminster, I found 
 him there, and was told he had come to town for a few hours. 
 He met me with his usual kindness, but instantly returned 
 to the writing of something on which he was employed when 
 I came in, and on which he seemed much intent. Finding 
 him thus engaged, I made my visit very short. 
 
 On Friday, March 20, I found him at his own house, sit- 
 ting with Mrs. Williams, and was informed that the room 
 formerly allotted to me was now appropriated to a charitable 
 purpose; Mrs. Desmoulins, and I think her daughter, and a 
 Miss Carmichael, being all lodged in it. Such was his hu- 
 manity, and such his generosity, that Mrs. Desmoulins her- 
 self told me, he allowed her half-a-guinea a week. Let it be re- 
 membered, that this was above a twelfth part of his pension. 
 
 His liberality, indeed, was at all periods of his life very 
 remarkable. Mr. Howard, of Lichfield, at whose father's 
 house Johnson had in his early years been kindly received, 
 told me, that when he was a boy at the Charter-House, his 
 father wrote to him to go and pay a visit to Mr. Samuel 
 Johnson, which he accordingly did, and found him in an 
 upper room, of poor appearance. Johnson received him 
 with much courteousness, and talked a great deal to him, as 
 to a school-boy, of the course of his education, and other 
 particulars. When he afterwards came to know and under- 
 stand the high character of this great man, he recollected his 
 condescension with wonder. He added, that when he was 
 going away, Mr. Johnson presented him with half-a-guinea; 
 and this, said Mr. Howard, was at a time when he probably 
 had not another. 
 
 We retired from Mrs. Williams to another room. Tom 
 Davies soon after joined us. He had now unfortunately 
 failed in his circumstances, and was much indebted to Dr. 
 Johnson's kindness for obtaining for him many alleviations 
 of his distress. After he went away, Johnson blamed his 
 folly in quitting the stage, by which he and his wife got five 
 hundred pounds a year. I said, I believed jit was owing to 
 Churchill's attack upon him, 
 
 'He mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone.'
 
 1778] LITERAL TRUTH 357 
 
 JOHNSON. 'I believe so too, Sir. But what a man is he, 
 who is to be driven from the stage by a line? Another line 
 would have driven him from his shop.' 
 
 He returned next day to Streatham, to Mr. Thrale's; 
 where, as Mr. Strahan once complained to me, 'he was 
 in a great measure absorbed from the society of his old 
 friends.' I was kept in London by business, and wrote to 
 him on the 27th, that a separation from him for a week, 
 when we were so near, was equal to a separation for a year, 
 when we were at four hundred miles distance. I went to 
 Streatham on Monday, March 30. Before he appeared, 
 Mrs. Thrale made a very characteristical remark: 'I do 
 not know for certain what will please Dr. Johnson: but I 
 know for certain that it will displease him to praise any 
 thing, even what he likes, extravagantly.' 
 
 At dinner he laughed at querulous declamations against, 
 the age, on account of luxury, increase of London, scarcity 
 of provisions, and other such topicks. 'Houses (said he,) 
 will be built till rents fall: and corn is more plentiful now 
 than ever it was.' 
 
 I had before dinner repeated a ridiculous story told me 
 by an old man who had been a passenger with me in the 
 stage-coach to-day. Mrs. Thrale, having taken occasion to 
 allude to it in talking to me, called it ' The story told you by 
 the old woman.' 'Now, Madam, (said I,) give me leave to 
 catch you in the fact; it was not an old woman, but an old 
 man, whom I mentioned as having told me this.' I pre- 
 sumed to take an opportunity, in presence of Johnson, of 
 shewing this lively lady how ready she was, unintentionally, 
 to deviate from exact authenticity of narration. 
 
 Next morning, while we were at breakfast, Johnson gave 
 a very earnest recommendation of what he himself practised 
 with the utmost conscientiousness: I mean a strict atten- 
 tion to truth, even in the most minute particulars. 'Accus- 
 tom your children (said he,) constantly to this; if a thing 
 happened at one window, and they, when relating it, say 
 that it happened at another, do not let it pass, but instantly 
 check them; you do not know where deviation from truth 
 will end.' BOSWELL. 'It mav come to the door: and when
 
 358 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ma 
 
 once an account is at all varied in one circumstance, it may 
 by degrees be varied so as to be totally different from what 
 really happened.' Our lively hostess, whose fancy was im- 
 patient of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured to say, 
 'Nay, this is too much. If Mr. Johnson should forbid me 
 to drink tea, I would comply, as I should feel the restraint 
 only twice a day; but little variations in narrative must 
 happen a thousand times a day, if one is not perpetually 
 watching.' JOHNSON. 'Well, Madam, and you ought to be 
 perpetually watching. It is more from carelessness about 
 truth than from intentional lying, that there is so much false- 
 hood in the world.' 
 
 He was indeed so much impressed with the prevalence of 
 falsehood, voluntary or unintentional, that I never knew 
 any person who upon hearing an extraordinary circumstance 
 told, discovered more of the increduliis odi. He would say, 
 with a significant look and decisive tone, 'It is not so. Do 
 not tell this again.' He inculcated upon all his friends the 
 importance of perpetual vigilance against the slightest degrees 
 of falsehood; the effect of which, as Sir Joshua Reynolds 
 observed to me, has been, that all who were of his school are 
 distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy, which they 
 would not have possessed in the same degree, if they had not 
 been acquainted with Johnson. 
 
 Talking of ghosts, he said, 'It is wonderful that five 
 thousand years have now elapsed since the creation of the 
 world, and still it is undecided whether or not there has ever 
 been an instance of the spirit of any person appearing after 
 death. All argument is against it; but all belief is for it.' 
 
 He said, 'John Wesley's conversation is good, but he is 
 never at leisure. He is always obliged to go at a certain 
 hour. This is very disagreeable to a man who loves to fold 
 his legs and have out his talk, as I do.' 
 
 On Friday, April 3, I dined with him in London, in a 
 company 1 where were present several eminent men, whom 
 I shall not name, but distinguish their parts in the conver- 
 sation by different letters. 
 
 1 The Club. Hill identifies E. as Burke and J. as Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds. ED.
 
 1778] EMIGRATION 359 
 
 E. 'We hear prodigious complaints at present of emigra- 
 tion. I am convinced that emigration makes a country 
 more populous.' J. 'That sounds very much like a para- 
 dox.' E. 'Exportation of men, like exportation of all 
 other commodities, makes more be produced.' JOHNSON. 
 ' But there would be more people were there not emigration, 
 provided there were food for more.' E. 'No; leave a few 
 breeders, and you'll have more people than if there were no 
 emigration.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is plain there will be 
 more people, if there are more breeders. Thirty cows in 
 good pasture will produce more calves than ten cows, pro- 
 vided they have good bulls.' E. 'There are bulls enough 
 in Ireland.' JOHNSON, (smiling,) 'So, Sir, I should think 
 from your argument.' 
 
 E. 'I believe, in any body of men in England, I should 
 have been in the Minority; I have always been in the Mi- 
 nority.' P. 'The House of Commons resembles a private 
 company. How seldom is any man convinced by another's 
 argument; passion and pride rise against it.' R. 'What 
 would be the consequence, if a Minister, sure of a majority in 
 the House of Commons, should resolve that there should be 
 no speaking at all upon his side.' E. 'He must soon go 
 out. That has been tried; but it was found it would not 
 do.' .... 
 
 JOHNSON. 'I have been reading Thicknesse's Travels, 
 which I think are entertaining.' BOSWELL. 'What, Sir, 
 a good book?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, to read once; I do 
 not say you are to make a study of it, and digest it; and I 
 believe it to be a true book in his intention.' 
 
 E. 'From the experience which I have had, and I have 
 had a great deal, I have learnt to think better of mankind.' 
 JOHNSON. 'From my experience I have found them worse 
 in commercial dealings, more disposed to cheat, than I had 
 any notion of; but more disposed to do one another good 
 than I had conceived.' J. 'Less just and more beneficent.' 
 JOHNSON. 'And really it is wonderful, considering how 
 much attention is necessary for men to take care of them- 
 selves, and ward off immediate evils which press upon them, 
 it is wonderful how much they do for others. As it is said
 
 360 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 of the greatest liar, that he tells more truth than falsehood; 
 so it may be said of the worst man, that he does more good 
 than evil.' BOSWELL. 'Perhaps from experience men may 
 be found happier than we suppose.' JOHNSON. ' No, Sir; the 
 more we enquire, we shall find men the less happy.' 
 
 E. 'I understand the hogshead of claret, which this 
 society was favoured with by our friend the Dean, is nearly 
 out; I think he should be written to, to send another of the 
 same kind. Let the request be made with a happy am- 
 biguity of expression, so that we may have the chance of his 
 sending it also as a present.' JOHNSON. 'I am willing to 
 offer my services as secretary on this occasion.' P. 'As 
 many as are for Dr. Johnson being secretary hold up your 
 hands. Carried unanimously.' BOSWELL. 'He will be our 
 Dictator.' JOHNSON. 'No, the company is to dictate to 
 me. I am only to write for wine; and I am quite disinter- 
 ested, as I drink none; I shall not be suspected of having 
 forged the application. I am no more than humble scribe.' 
 E. 'Then you shall prescribe.' BOSWELL. 'Very well. 
 The first play of words to-day.' J. 'No, no; the bulls in 
 Ireland.' JOHNSON. 'Were I your Dictator you should have 
 no wine. It would be my business cavere ne quid detrimenti 
 Respublica caperet, and wine is dangerous. Rome was ruined 
 by luxury,' (smiling.) E. 'If you allow no wine as Dic- 
 tator, you shall not have me for your master of horse.' 
 
 On Saturday, April 4, I drank tea with Johnson at Dr. 
 Taylor's, where he had dined. 
 
 He was very silent this evening; and read in a variety of 
 books: suddenly throwing down one, and taking up another. 
 
 He talked of going to Streatham that night. TAYLOR. 
 'You'll be robbed if you do: or you must shoot a highway- 
 man. Now I would rather be robbed than do that; I would 
 not shoot a highwayman.' JOHNSON. 'But I would rather 
 shoot him in the instant when he is attempting to rob me, 
 than afterwards swear against him at the Old-Bailey, to take 
 away his life, after he has robbed me. I am surer I am right 
 in the one case than in the other. I may be mistaken as to 
 the man, when I swear: I cannot be mistaken, if I shoot him 
 in the act. Besides, we feel less reluctance to take away
 
 1778] NOBODY CONTENT 361 
 
 a man's life, when we are heated by the injury, than to do it 
 at a distance of time by an oath, after we have cooled.' 
 BOSWELL. 'So, Sir, you would rather act from the motive 
 of private passion, than that of publick advantage.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Nay, Sir, when I shoot the highwayman I act from 
 both.' BOSWELL. 'Very well, very well. There is no 
 catching him.' JOHNSON. 'At the same time one does not 
 know what to say. For perhaps one may, a year after, hang 
 himself from uneasiness for having shot a man. Few minds 
 are fit to be trusted with so great a thing.' BOSWELL. 
 'Then, Sir, you would not shoot him?' JOHNSON. 'But I 
 might be vexed afterwards for that too.' 
 
 Thrale's carriage not having come for him, as he expected, 
 I accompanied him some part of the way home to his own 
 house. I told him, that I had talked of him to Mr. Dunning 
 a few days before, and had said, that in his company we did 
 not so much interchange conversation, as listen to him; and 
 that Dunning observed, upon this, 'One is always willing to 
 listen to Dr. Johnson:' to which I answered, 'That is a great 
 deal from you, Sir.' 'Yes, Sir, (said Johnson,) a great deal 
 indeed. Here is a man willing to listen, to whom the world 
 is listening all the rest of the year.' BOSWELL. 'I think, 
 Sir, it is right to tell one man of such a handsome thing, 
 which has been said of him by another. It tends to increase 
 benevolence.' JOHNSON. ' Undoubtedly it is right, Sir.' 
 
 On Tuesday, April 7, I breakfasted with him at his house. 
 He said, 'nobody was content.' I mentioned to him a re- 
 spectable person in Scotland whom he knew; and I asserted, 
 that I really believed he was always content. JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir, he is not content with the present; he has always 
 some new scheme, some new plantation, something which is 
 future. You know he was not content as a widower; for he 
 married again.' BOSWELL. 'But he is not restless.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, he is only locally at rest. A chymist Is locally 
 at rest; but his mind is hard at work. This gentleman has 
 done with external exertions. It is too late for him to en- 
 gage in distant projects.' BOSWELL. 'He seems to amuse 
 himself quite well; to have his attention fixed, and his tran- 
 quillity preserved by very small matters. I have tried this;
 
 362 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 but it would not do with me.' JOHNSON, (laughing,) 'No, 
 Sir; it must be born with a man to be contented to take up 
 with little things. Women have a great advantage that they 
 may take up with little things, without disgracing themselves: 
 a man cannot, except with fiddling. Had I learnt to fiddle, 
 I should have done nothing else.' BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, 
 did you ever play on any musical instrument?' JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir. I once bought me a flagelet; but I never made 
 out a tune.' BOSWELL. 'A flagelet, Sir! so small an in- 
 strument? I should have liked to hear you play on the 
 violoncello. That should have been your instrument.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, I might as well have played on the violoncello 
 as another; but I should have done nothing else. No, Sir; 
 a man would never undertake great things, could he be 
 amused with small. I once tried knotting. Dempster's 
 sister undertook to teach me; but I could not learn it.' 
 BOSWELL. 'So, Sir; it will be related in pompous narrative, 
 "Once for his amusement he tried knotting; nor did this 
 Hercules disdain the distaff."' JOHNSON. 'Knitting of 
 stockings is a good amusement. As a freeman of Aberdeen 
 I should be a knitter of stockings.' He asked me to go down 
 with him and dine at Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, to which I 
 agreed. I had lent him An Account of Scotland, in 1702, 
 written by a man of various enquiry, an English chaplain to 
 a regiment stationed there. JOHNSON. ' It is sad stuff, Sir, 
 miserably written, as books in general then were. There is 
 now an elegance of style universally diffused. No man now 
 writes so ill as Martin's Account of the Hebrides is written. 
 A man could not write so ill, if he should try. Set a mer- 
 chant's clerk now to write, and he'll do better.' 
 
 He talked to me with serious concern of a certain female 
 friend's 'laxity of narration, and inattention to truth.' 
 'I am as much vexed (said he,) at the ease with which she 
 hears it mentioned to her, as at the thing itself. I told her, 
 "Madam, you are contented to hear every day said to you, 
 what the highest of mankind have died for, rather than 
 bear." You know, Sir, the highest of mankind have died 
 rather than bear to be told they had uttered a falsehood. 
 Do talk to her of it: I am weary.'
 
 1778] ON DRINKING WINE 363 
 
 BOSWELL. 'Was not Dr. John Campbell a very inaccu- 
 rate man in his narrative, Sir? He once told me, that he 
 drank thirteen bottles of port at a sitting.' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, I do not know that Campbell ever lied with pen 
 and ink; but you could not entirely depend on any thing 
 he told you in conversation: if there was fact mixed with 
 it. However, I loved Campbell: he was a solid orthodox 
 man: he had a reverence for religion. Though defective 
 in practice, he was religious in principle; and he did noth- 
 ing grossly wrong that I have heard.' 
 
 Talking of drinking wine, he said, 'I did not leave off 
 wine, because I could not bear it; I have drunk three bottles 
 of port without being the worse for it. University College 
 has witnessed this.' BOSWELL. 'Why, then, Sir, did you 
 leave it off?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, because it is so much 
 better for a man to be sure that he is never to be intoxicated, 
 never to lose the power over himself. I shall not begin to 
 drink wine again, till I grow old, and want it.' BOSWELL. 
 'I think, Sir, you once said to me, that not to drink wine 
 was a great deduction from life.' JOHNSON. 'It is a dimi- 
 nution of pleasure, to be sure; but I do not say a diminution 
 of happiness. There is more happiness in being rational.' 
 BOSWELL. 'But if we could have pleasure always, should 
 not we be happy? The greatest part of men would com- 
 pound for pleasure.' JOHNSON. 'Supposing we could have 
 pleasure always, an intellectual man would not compound 
 for it. The greatest part of men would compound, because 
 the greatest part of men are gross.' 
 
 I mentioned to him that I had become very weary in a 
 company where I heard not a single intellectual sentence, 
 except that 'a man who had been settled ten years in Mi- 
 norca was become a much inferiour man to what he was in 
 London, because a man's mind grows narrow in a narrow 
 place.' JOHNSON. 'A man's mind grows narrow in a nar- 
 row place, whose mind is enlarged only because he has lived 
 in a large place: but what is got by books and thinking is 
 preserved in a narrow place as well as in a large place. A 
 man cannot know modes of life as well in Minorca as in 
 London; but he may study mathematicks as well in Mi-
 
 364 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1778 
 
 norca.' BOSWELL. 'I don't know, Sir: if you had remained 
 ten years in the Isle of Col, you would not have been the 
 man that you now are.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, if I had been 
 there from fifteen to twenty-five; but not if from twenty-five 
 to thirty-five.' BOSWELL. 'I own, Sir, the spirits which I 
 have in London make me do every thing with more readi- 
 ness and vigour. I can talk twice as much in London as 
 any where else.' 
 
 Of Goldsmith he said, 'He was not an agreeable com- 
 panion, for he talked always for fame. A man who does 
 so never can be pleasing. The man who talks to unburthen 
 his mind is the man to delight you. An eminent friend of 
 ours is not so agreeable as the variety of his knowledge 
 would otherwise make him, because he talks partly from 
 ostentation.' 
 
 Soon after our arrival at Thrale's, I heard one of the 
 maids calling eagerly on another, to go to Dr. Johnson. I 
 wondered what this could mean. I afterwards learnt, that 
 it was to give her a Bible, which he had brought from Lon- 
 don as a present to her. 
 
 He was for a considerable time occupied in reading Me- 
 moires de Fontenelle, leaning and swinging upon the low gate 
 into the court, without his hat. 
 
 At dinner, Mrs. Thrale expressed a wish to go and see 
 Scotland. JOHNSON. 'Seeing Scotland, Madam, is only 
 seeing a worse England. It is seeing the flower gradually 
 fade away to the naked stalk. Seeing the Hebrides, indeed, 
 is seeing quite a different scene.' 
 
 On Thursday, April 9, I dined with him at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's, with the Bishop of St. Asaph, (Dr. Shipley,) 
 Mr. Allan Ramsay, Mr. Gibbon, Mr. Cambridge, and Mr. 
 Langton. 
 
 Goldsmith being mentioned, Johnson observed, that it 
 was long before his merit came to be acknowledged. That 
 he once complained to him, in ludicrous terms of distress, 
 * Whenever I write any thing, the publick make a point to 
 know nothing about it:' but that his Traveller brought him 
 into high reputation. LANGTON. 'There is not one bad 
 line in that poem; not one of Dryden's careless verses.'
 
 1778] GOLDSMITH'S TRAVELLER 365 
 
 SIR JOSHUA. 'I was glad to hear Charles Fox say, it was 
 one of the finest poems in the English language.' LANGTON. 
 'Why was you glad? You surely had no doubt of this 
 before.' JOHNSON. 'No; the merit of The Traveller is so 
 well established, that Mr. Fox's praise cannot augment it, 
 nor his censure diminish it.' SIR JOSHUA. 'But his friends 
 may suspect they had too great a partiality for him.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Nay, Sir, the partiality of his friends was always 
 against him. It was with difficulty we could give him a 
 hearing. Goldsmith had no settled notions upon any sub- 
 ject; so he talked always at random. It seemed to be his 
 intention to blurt out whatever was in his mind, and see 
 what would become of it. He was angry too, when catched 
 in an absurdity; but it did not prevent him from falling 
 into another the next minute. I remember Chamier, after 
 talking with him for some time, .said, "Well, I do believe 
 he wrote this poem himself: and, let me tell you, that is 
 believing a great deal." Chamier once asked him, what 
 he meant by slow, the last word in the first line of The Trav- 
 eller, 
 
 "Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow." 
 
 Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? Goldsmith, who 
 would say something without consideration, answered, "Yes." 
 I was sitting by, and said, "No, Sir; you do not mean tardi- 
 ness of locomotion; you mean, that sluggishness of mind 
 which comes upon a man in solitude." Chamier believed then 
 that I had written the line as much as if he had seen me 
 write it. Goldsmith, however, was a man, who, whatever 
 he wrote, did it better than any other man could do. He 
 deserved a place in Westminster-Abbey, and every year he 
 lived, would have deserved it better. He had, indeed, been 
 at no pains to fill his mind with knowledge. He transplanted 
 it from one place to another; and it did not settle in his mind; 
 so he could not tell what was in his own books.' 
 
 We talked of living in the country. JOHNSON. 'No wise 
 man will go to live in the country, unless he has something 
 to do which can be better done in the country. For in- 
 stance: if he is to shut himself up for a year to study a
 
 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 science, it is better to look out to the fields, than to an op- 
 posite wall. Then, if a man walks out in the country, there 
 is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man 
 walks out in London, he is not sure when he shall walk in 
 again. A great city is, to be sure, the school for studying 
 life; and "The proper study of mankind is man," as Pope 
 observes.' BOSWELL. ' I fancy London is the best place for 
 society; though I have heard that the very first society of 
 Paris is still beyond any thing that we have here.' JOHNSON. 
 * Sir, I question if in Paris such a company as is sitting round 
 this table could be got together in less than half a year. 
 They talk in France of the felicity of men and women living 
 together: the truth is, that there the men are not higher 
 than the women, they know no more than the women do, 
 and they are not held down in their conversation by the 
 presence of women.' 
 
 We talked of old age. Johnson (now in his seventieth 
 year,) said, 'It is a man's own fault, it is from want of use, 
 if his mind grows torpid in old age.' The Bishop asked, 
 if an old man does not lose faster than he gets. JOHNSON. 
 'I think not, my Lord, if he exerts himself.' One of the 
 company rashly observed, that he thought it was happy for 
 an old man that insensibility comes upon him. JOHNSON. 
 (with a noble elevation and disdain,) 'No, Sir, I should 
 never be happy by being less rational.' BISHOP OF ST. 
 ASAPH. ' Your wish then, Sir, is yijpcuTtceiv SiSaa-Ko/jievos,' 
 JOHNSON. 'Yes, my Lord.' 
 
 This season there was a whimsical fashion in the news- 
 papers of applying Shakspeare's words to describe living 
 persons well known in the world; which was done under 
 the title of Modern Characters from Shakspeare; many of 
 which were admirably adapted. The fancy took so much, 
 that they were afterwards collected into a pamphlet. Some- 
 body said to Johnson, across the table, that he had not been 
 in those characters. 'Yes (said he,) I have. I should have 
 been sorry to be left out.' He then repeated what had been 
 applied to him, 
 
 'I must borrow GARAGANTTTA'S mouth.'
 
 1778] GARGANTUA 367 
 
 Miss Reynolds not perceiving at once the meaning of this, 
 he was obliged to explain it to her, which had something of 
 an aukward and ludicrous effect. 'Why, Madam, it has a 
 reference to me, as using big words, which require the mouth 
 of a giant to pronounce them. Garagantua is the name of 
 a giant in Rabelais.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, there is another 
 amongst them for you: 
 
 "He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
 Or Jove for his power to thunder.'" 
 
 JOHNSON. 'There is nothing marked in that. No, Sir, 
 Garagantua is the best.' Notwithstanding this ease and 
 good humour, when I, a little while afterwards, repeated his 
 sarcasm on Kenrick, which was received with applause, he 
 asked, 'Who said that?' and on my suddenly answering, 
 Garagantua, he looked serious, which was a sufficient indica- 
 tion that he did not wish it to be kept up. 
 
 When we went to the drawing-room there was a rich as- 
 semblage. Besides the company who had been at dinner, 
 there were Mr. Garrick, Mr. Harris of Salisbury, Dr. Percy, 
 Dr. Burney, Honourable Mrs. Cholmondeley, Miss Hannah 
 More, &c. &c. 
 
 After wandering about in a kind of pleasing distraction 
 for some time, I got into a corner, with Johnson, Garrick, 
 and Harris. GARRICK. (to Harris,) 'Pray, Sir, have you 
 read Potter's JEschylus ?' HARRIS. 'Yes; and think it 
 pretty.' GARRICK. (to Johnson,) 'And what think you, Sir, 
 of it?' JOHNSON. 'I thought what I read of it verbiage: 
 but upon Mr. Harris's recommendation, I will read a play. 
 (To Mr. Harris,) Don't prescribe two.' Mr. Harris suggested 
 one, I do not remember which. JOHNSON. 'We must try 
 its effect as an English poem; that is the way to judge of the 
 merit of a translation. Translations are, in general, for peo- 
 ple who cannot read the original.' I mentioned the vulgar 
 saying, that Pope's Homer was not a good representation 
 of the original. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is the greatest work of 
 the kind that has ever been produced.' BOSWELL. 'The 
 truth is, it is impossible perfectly to translate poetry. In
 
 368 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 a different language it may be the same tune, but it has not 
 the same tone. Homer plays it on a bassoon; Pope on a 
 flagelet.' HARRIS. ' I think Heroick poetry is best in blank 
 verse; yet it appears that rhyme is essential to English 
 poetry, from our deficiency in metrical quantities. In my 
 opinion, the chief excellence of our language is numerous 
 prose.' JOHNSON. ' Sir William Temple was the first writer 
 who gave cadence to English prose. Before his time they 
 were careless of arrangement, and did not mind whether a 
 sentence ended with an important word or an insignificant 
 word, or with what part of speech it was concluded.' 
 
 GARRICK. 'Of all the translations that ever were at- 
 tempted, I think Elphinston's Martial the most extraor- 
 dinary. He consulted me upon it, who am a little of an epi- 
 grammatist myself, you know. I told him freely, "You 
 don't seem to have that turn." I asked him if he was seri- 
 ous; and finding he was, I advised him against publishing. 
 Why, his translation is more difficult to understand than the 
 original. I thought him a man of some talents; but he seems 
 crazy in this.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have done what I had 
 not courage to do. But he did not ask my advice, and I 
 did not force it upon him, to make him ahgry with me.' 
 GARRICK. ' But as a friend, Sir .' JOHNSON. 'Why, such 
 a friend as I am with him no.' GARRICK. 'But if you 
 see a friend going to tumble over a precipice?' JOHNSON. 
 'That is an extravagant case, Sir. You are sure a friend 
 will thank you for hindering him from tumbling over a preci- 
 pice; but, in the other case, I should hurt his vanity, and do 
 him no good. He would not take my advice. His brother- 
 in-law, Strahan, sent him a subscription of fifty pounds, and 
 said he would send him fifty more, if he would not publish.' 
 GARRICK. 'What! eh! is Strahan a good judge of an Epi- 
 gram? Is not he rather an obtme man, eh?' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, he may not be a judge of an Epigram: but you 
 see he is a judge of what is not an Epigram.' BOSWELL. 
 'It is easy for you, Mr. Garrick, to talk to an authour as 
 you talked to Elphinston; you, who have been so long the 
 manager of a theatre, rejecting the plays of poor authours. 
 You are an old Judge, who have often pronounced sentence
 
 1778] HAWKINS'S SIEGE OF ALEPPO 369 
 
 of death. You are a practiced surgeon, who have often am- 
 putated limbs; and though this may have been for the good 
 of your patients, they cannot like you. Those who have 
 undergone a dreadful operation, are not very fond of seeing 
 the operator again.' GARRICK. 'Yes, I know enough of 
 that. There was a reverend gentleman, (Mr. Hawkins,) 
 who wrote a tragedy, the SIEGE of something, which I refused.' 
 HARRIS. 'So, the siege was raised.' JOHNSON. 'Ay, he 
 came to me and complained; and told me, that Garrick said 
 his play was wrong in the concoction. Now, what is the con- 
 coction of a play ? ' (Here Garrick started, and twisted him- 
 self, and seemed sorely vexed; for Johnson told me, he be- 
 lieved the story was true.) GARRICK. 'I I I said first 
 concoction.' JOHNSON, (smiling,) 'Well, he left out first. 
 And Rich, he said, refused him in false English: he could 
 shew it under his hand.' GARRICK. 'He wrote to me in 
 violent wrath, for having refused his play: "Sir, this is grow- 
 ing a very serious and terrible affair. I am resolved to 
 publish my play. I will appeal to the world; and how will 
 your judgement appear?" I answered, "Sir, notwithstand- 
 ing all the seriousness, and all the terrours, I have no objec- 
 tion to your publishing your play; and as you live at a great 
 distance, (Devonshire, I believe,) if you will send it to me, 
 I will convey it to the press." I never heard more of it, 
 ha! ha! ha!' 
 
 On Friday, April 10, I found Johnson at home in the 
 morning. We resumed the conversation of yesterday. He 
 put me in mind of some of it which had escaped my memory, 
 and enabled me to record it more perfectly than I otherwise 
 could have done. He was much pleased with my paying 
 so great attention to his recommendation in 1763, the period 
 when our acquaintance began, that I should keep a journal; 
 and I could perceive he was secretly pleased to find so much 
 of the fruit of his mind preserved; and as he had been used 
 to imagine and say that he always laboured when he said a 
 good thing it delighted him, on a review, to find that his 
 conversation teemed with point and imagery. 
 
 I said to him, 'You were yesterday, Sir, in remarkably 
 good humour: but there was nothing to offend you, nothing
 
 370 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON jms 
 
 to produce irritation or violence. There was no bold offender. 
 There was not one capital conviction. It was a maiden 
 assize. You had on your white gloves.' .vj/ 
 
 He found fault with our friend Langton for having been 
 too silent. 'Sir, (said I,) you will recollect, that he very 
 properly took up Sir Joshua for being glad that Charles Fox 
 had praised Goldsmith's Traveller, and you joined him.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I knocked Fox on the head, without 
 ceremony. Reynolds is too much under Fox and Burke at 
 present. He is under the Fox star and the Irish constellation. 
 He is always under some planet.' BOSWELL. 'There is no 
 Fox star.' JOHNSON. 'But there is a dog star.' BOSWELL. 
 'They say, indeed, a fox and a dog are the same animal.' 
 
 We dined together with Mr. Scott (now Sir William Scott, 
 his Majesty's Advocate General,) at his chambers in the 
 Temple, nobody else there. The company being small, 
 Johnson was not in such spirits as he had been the preceding 
 day, and for a considerable time little was said. 
 
 Talking of fame, for which there is so great a desire, I 
 observed how little there is of it in reality, compared with 
 the other objects of human attention. 'Let every man recol- 
 lect, and he will be sensible how small a part of his time is 
 employed in talking or thinking of Shakspeare, Voltaire, or 
 any of the most celebrated men that have ever lived, or are 
 now supposed to occupy the attention and admiration of the 
 world. Let this be extracted and compressed; into what a 
 narrow space will it go!' I then slily introduced Mr. Gar- 
 rick's fame, and his assuming the airs of a great man. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, it is wonderful how little Garrick assumes. No, 
 Sir, Garrick fortunam reverenter habet. Consider, Sir: cele- 
 brated men, such as you have mentioned, have had their 
 applause at a distance; but Garrick had it dashed in his 
 face, sounded in his ears, and went home every night with 
 the plaudits of a thousand in his cranium. Then, Sir, Gar- 
 rick did not find, but made his way to the tables, the levees, 
 and almost the bed-chambers of the great. Then, Sir, Gar- 
 rick had under him a numerous body of people; who, from 
 fear of his power, and hopes of his favour, and admiration 
 of his talents, were constantly submissive to him. And here
 
 1778] GARRICK 371 
 
 is a man who has advanced the dignity of his profession. 
 Garrick has made a player a higher character.' SCOTT. 
 'And he is a very sprightly writer too.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, 
 Sir; and all this supported by great wealth of his own ac- 
 quisition. If all this had happened to me, I should have had 
 a couple of fellows with long poles walking before me, to 
 knock down every body that stood in the way. Consider, 
 if all this had happened to Gibber or Quin, they'd have 
 jumped over the moon. Yet Garrick speaks to MS.' (smil- 
 ing.) BOSWELL. 'And Garrick is a very good man, a chari- 
 table man.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, a liberal man. He has given 
 away more money than any man in England. There may 
 be a little vanity mixed; but he has shewn, that money is 
 not his first object.' BOSWELL. 'Yet Foote used to say of 
 him, that he walked out with an intention to do a generous 
 action; but, turning the corner of a street, he met with the 
 ghost of a half-penny, which frightened him.' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, that is very true, too; for I never knew a man of 
 whom it could be said with less certainty to-day, what he 
 will do to-morrow, than Garrick; it depends so much on his 
 humour at the time.' SCOTT. 'I am glad to hear of his 
 liberality. He has been represented as very saving.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'With his domestick saving we have nothing to do. 
 I remember drinking tea with him long ago, when Peg Wof- 
 fington made it, and he grumbled at her for making it too 
 strong. 1 He had then begun to feel money in his purse, 
 and did not know when he should have enough of it.' 
 
 We talked of war. JOHNSON. ' Every man thinks meanly 
 of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been 
 at sea.' BOSWELL. 'Lord Mansfield does not.' JOHNSON. 
 ' Sir, if Lord Mansfield were in a company of General Officers 
 and Admirals who have been in service, he would shrink; 
 he'd wish to creep under the table.' BOSWELL. 'No; he'd 
 think he could try them all.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, if he could 
 catch them: but they'd try him much sooner. No, Sir; 
 were Socrates and Charles the Twelfth of Sweden both 
 
 1 When Johnson told this little anecdote to Sir Joshua Reynolds, be 
 mentioned a circumstance which he omittd to-day: 'Why, (said 
 Garrick,) it is as red as blood.' BOSWELL.
 
 372 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 present in any company, and Socrates to say, "Follow me, 
 and hear a lecture on philosophy;" and Charles, laying his 
 hand on his sword, to say, "Follow me, and dethrone the 
 Czar;" a man would be ashamed to follow Socrates. Sir, 
 the impression is universal; yet it is strange.' 
 
 He talked of Mr. Charles Fox, of whose abilities he thought 
 highly, but observed, that he did not talk much at our CLUB. 
 I have heard Mr. Gibbon remark, ' that Mr. Fox could not be 
 afraid of Dr. Johnson; yet he certainly was very shy of say- 
 ing any thing in Dr. Johnson's presence.' 
 
 He expressed great indignation at the imposture of the 
 Cock-lane Ghost, and related, with much satisfaction, how 
 he had assisted in detecting the cheat, and had published an 
 account of it in the news-papers. Upon this subject I in- 
 cautiously offended him, by pressing him with too many 
 questions, and he shewed his displeasure. I apologised, 
 saying that ' I asked questions in order to be instructed and 
 entertained; I repaired eagerly to the fountain; but that 
 the moment he gave me a hint, the moment he put a lock 
 upon the well, I desisted.' 'But, Sir, (said he), that is 
 forcing one to do a disagreeable thing:' and he continued to 
 rate me. ' Nay, Sir, (said I,) when you have put a lock upon 
 the well, so that I can no longer drink, do not make the 
 fountain of your wit play upon me and wet me.' 
 
 He sometimes could not bear being teazed with questions. 
 I was once present when a gentleman asked so many as, 
 'What did you do, Sir?' 'What did you say, Sir?' that he 
 at last grew enraged, and said, 'I will not be put to the 
 question. Don't you consider, Sir, that these are not the 
 manners of a gentleman? I will not be baited with what, 
 and why; what is this? what is that? why is a cow's tail 
 long? why is a fox's tail bushy?' The gentleman, who was 
 a good deal out of countenance, said, 'Why, Sir, you are so 
 good, that I venture to trouble you.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, my 
 being so good is no reason why you should be so ill.' 
 
 He talked with an uncommon animation of travelling into 
 distant countries; that the mind was enlarged by it, and that 
 an acquisition of dignity of character was derived from it. 
 He expressed a particular enthusiasm with respect to visit-
 
 1778] ALTERCATION WITH DR. PERCY 373 
 
 ing the wall of China. I catched it for the moment, and 
 said I really believed I should go and see the wall of China 
 had I not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. 
 'Sir, (said he,) by doing so, you would do what would be of 
 importance in raising your children to eminence. There 
 would be a lustre reflected upon them from your spirit and 
 curiosity. They would be at all times regarded as the chil- 
 dren of a man who had gone to view the wall of China. I 
 am serious, Sir.' 
 
 When we had left Mr. Scott's, he said 'Will you go home 
 with me?' 'Sir, (said I,) it is late; but I'll go with you for 
 three minutes.' JOHNSON. 'Or /our.' We went to Mrs. 
 Williams's room, where we found Mr. Allen the printer, who 
 was the landlord of his house in Bolt-court, a worthy, obliging 
 man, and his very old acquaintance; and what was exceed- 
 ingly amusing, though he was of a very diminutive size, he 
 used, even in Johnson's presence, to imitate the stately 
 periods and slow and solemn utterance of the great man. 
 I this evening boasted, that although I did not write what is 
 called stenography, or short-hand, in appropriated charac- 
 ters devised for the purpose, I had a method of my own of 
 writing half words, and leaving out some altogether so as yet 
 to keep the substance and language of any discourse which 
 I had heard so much in view, that I could give it very com- 
 pletely soon after I had taken it down. 
 
 On Sunday, April 12, I found him at home before dinner. 
 He and I, and Mrs. Williams, went to dine with the Rev- 
 erend Dr. Percy. 
 
 And here I shall record a scene of too much heat between 
 Dr. Johnson and Dr. Percy, which I should have suppressed, 
 were it not that it gave occasion to display the truely tender 
 and benevolent heart of Johnson, who, as soon as he found 
 a friend was at all hurt by any thing which he had 'said in 
 his wrath,' was not only prompt and desirous to be recon- 
 ciled, but exerted himself to make ample reparation. 
 
 Books of Travels having been mentioned, Johnson praised 
 Pennant very highly, as he did at Dunvegan, in the Isle of 
 Sky. Dr. Percy, knowing himself to be the heir male of 
 the ancient Percies, and having the warmest and most duti-
 
 374 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 ful attachment to the noble House of Northumberland, 
 could not sit quietly and hear a man praised, who had spoken 
 disrespectfully of Alnwick-Castle and the Duke's pleasure 
 grounds, especially as he thought meanly of his travels. He 
 therefore opposed Johnson eagerly. JOHNSON. 'Pennant 
 in what he has said of Am wick, has done what he intended; 
 he has made you very angry.' PERCY. 'He has said the 
 garden is trim, which is representing it like a citizen's par- 
 terre, when the truth is, there is a very large extent of fine 
 turf and gravel walks.' JOHNSON. 'According to your own 
 account, Sir, Pennant is right. It is trim. Here is grass 
 cut close, and gravel rolled smooth. Is not that trim? The 
 extent is nothing against that; a mile may be as trim as 
 a square yard. Your extent puts me in mind of the citizen's 
 enlarged dinner, two pieces of roast-beef, and two puddings. 
 There is no variety, no mind exerted in laying out the ground, 
 no trees.' PERCY. 'He pretends to give the natural history 
 of Northumberland, and yet takes no notice of the immense 
 number of trees planted there of late.' JOHNSON. 'That, 
 Sir, has nothing to do with the natural history; that is civil 
 history. A man who gives the natural history of the oak, is 
 not to tell how many oaks have been planted in this place or 
 that. A man who gives the natural history of the cow, is 
 not to tell how many cows are milked at Islington. The 
 animal is the same, whether milked in the Park or at Isling- 
 ton^ PERCY. 'Pennant does not describe well; a carrier 
 who goes along the side of Loch-lomond would describe it 
 better.' JOHNSON. 'I think he describes very well.' PERCY. 
 fl travelled after him.' JOHNSON. 'And / travelled after 
 him.' PERCY. 'But, my good friend, you are short-sighted, 
 and do not see so well as I do.' I wondered at Dr. Percy's 
 venturing thus. Dr. Johnson said nothing at the time; but 
 inflammable particles were collecting for a cloud to burst. 
 In a little while Dr. Percy said something more in disparage- 
 ment of Pennant. JOHNSON, (pointedly,) 'This is the re- 
 sentment of a narrow mind, because he did not find every 
 thing in Northumberland.' PERCY, (feeling the stroke,) 
 'Sir, you may be as rude as you please.' JOHNSON. 'Hold, 
 Sir! Don't talk of rudeness; remember, Sir, you told me
 
 1778] RECONCILIATION 375 
 
 (puffing hard with passion struggling for a vent,) I was short- 
 sighted. We have done with civility. We are to be as rude 
 as we please.' PERCT. 'Upon my honour, Sir, I did not 
 mean to be uncivil.' JOHNSON. 'I cannot say so, Sir; for 
 I did mean to be uncivil, thinking you had been uncivil.' Dr. 
 Percy rose, ran up to him, and taking him by the hand, as- 
 sured him affectionately that his meaning had been misun- 
 derstood; upon which a reconciliation instantly took place. 
 JOHNSON. 'My dear Sir, I am willing you shall hang Pen- 
 nant.' PERCY, (resuming the former subject,) 'Pennant 
 complains that the helmet is not hung out to invite to the 
 hall of hospitality. Now I never heard that it was a custom 
 to hang out a helmet.' JOHNSON. ' Hang him up, hang him 
 up.' BOSWELL. (humouring the joke,) 'Hang out his skull 
 instead of a helmet, and you may drink ale out of it in your 
 hall of Odin, as he is your enemy; that will be truly ancient. 
 There will be Northern Antiquities.' JOHNSON. 'He's a 
 Whig, Sir; a sad dog. (smiling at his own violent expressions, 
 merely for political difference of opinion.) But he's the best 
 traveller I ever read; he observes more things than any one 
 else does.' 
 
 On Monday, April 13, I dined with Johnson at Mr. Lang- 
 ton's, where were Dr. Porteus, then Bishop of Chester, now 
 of London, and Dr. Stinton. He was at first in a very silent 
 mood. Before dinner he said nothing but 'Pretty baby,' to 
 one of the children. Langton said very well to me after- 
 wards, that he could repeat Johnson's conversation before 
 dinner, as Johnson had said that he could repeat a complete 
 chapter of The Natural History of Iceland, from the Danish 
 of Horrebow, the whole of which was exactly thus: 
 
 ' CHAP. LXXII. Concerning snakes. 
 
 There ar no snakes to be met with throughout the whole 
 island.' 
 
 Mr. Topham Beauclerk came in the evening, and he and 
 Dr. Johnson and I staid to supper. It was mentioned that 
 Dr. Dodd had once wished to be a member of THE LITERARY 
 CLUB. JOHNSON. 'I should be sorry if any of our Club 
 were hanged. I will not say but some of them deserve it.'
 
 376 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 BEAUCLERK. (supposing this to be aimed at persons for whom 
 he had at that time a wonderful fancy, which, however, did 
 not last long,) was irritated, and eagerly said, 'You, Sir, 
 have a friend, (naming him) who deserves to be hanged; 
 for he speaks behind their backs against those with whom 
 he lives on the best terms, and attacks them in the news- 
 papers. He certainly ought to be kicked.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 we all do this in some degree, " Veniam petimus damusque 
 vicissim." To be sure it may be done so much, that a man 
 may deserve to be kicked.' BEAUCLERK. ' He is very malig- 
 nant.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; he is not malignant. He is 
 mischievous, if you will. He would do no man an essential 
 injury; he may, indeed, love to make sport of people by 
 vexing their vanity. I, however, once knew an old gentle- 
 man who was absolutely malignant. He really wished evil 
 to others, and rejoiced at it.' BOSWELL. 'The gentleman, 
 Mr. Beauclerk, against whom you are so violent, is, I know, 
 a man of good principles.' BEAUCLERK. 'Then he does 
 not wear them out in practice.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson, who, as I have observed before, delighted 
 in discrimination of character, and having a masterly knowl- 
 edge of human nature, was willing to take men as they are, 
 imperfect and with- a mixture of good and bad qualities, 
 I suppose thought he had said enough in defence of his friend, 
 of whose merits, notwithstanding his exceptional points, he 
 had a just value; and added no more on the subject. 
 
 On Wednesday, April 15, I dined with Dr. Johnson at Mr. 
 Dilly's, and was in high spirits, for I had been a good part of 
 the morning with Mr. Orme, the able and eloquent historian 
 of Hindostan, who expressed a great admiration of Johnson. 
 'I do not care (said he,) on what subject Johnson talks; but 
 I love better to hear him talk than any body. He either gives 
 you new thoughts, or a new colouring. It is a shame to the 
 nation that he has not been more liberally rewarded. Had 
 I been George the Third, and thought as he did about 
 America, I would have given Johnson three hundred a year 
 for his Taxation no Tyranny alone.' I repeated this, and 
 Johnson was much pleased with such praise from such a man 
 as Orme.
 
 1778] COOKERY 377 
 
 At Mr. Billy's to-day were Mrs. Knowles, the ingenious 
 Quaker lady, Miss Seward, the poetess of Lichfield, the 
 Reverend Dr. Mayo, and the Rev. Mr. Beresford, Tutor to 
 the Duke of Bedford. Before dinner Dr. Johnson seized 
 upon Mr. Charles Sheridan's Account of the late Revolution in 
 Sweden, and seemed to read it ravenously, as if he devoured 
 it, which was to all appearance his method of studying. 
 'He knows how to read better than any one (said Mrs. 
 Knowles;) he gets at the substance of a book directly; he 
 tears out the heart of it.' He kept it wrapt up in the table- 
 cloth in his lap during the time of dinner, from an avidity to 
 have one entertainment in readiness when he should have 
 finished another; resembling (if I may use so coarse a simile) 
 a dog who holds a bone in his paws in reserve, while he eats 
 something else which has been thrown to him. 
 
 The subject of cookery having been very naturally intro- 
 duced at a table where Johnson, who boasted of the niceness 
 of his palate, owned that ' he always found a good dinner,' he 
 said, 'I could write a better book of cookery than has ever 
 yet been written; it should be a book upon philosophical 
 principles. Pharmacy is now made much more simple. 
 Cookery may be made so too. A prescription which is now 
 compounded of five ingredients, had formerly fifty in it. 
 So in cookery, if the nature of the ingredients be well known, 
 much fewer will do. Then as you cannot make bad meat 
 good, I would tell what is the best butcher's meat, the best 
 beef, the best pieces; how to choose young fowls; the proper 
 seasons of different vegetables; and then how to roast and 
 boil, and compound.' DILLY. 'Mrs. Glasse's Cookery, 
 which is the best, was written by Dr. Hill. Half the trade 
 know this.' JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir. This shews how much 
 better the subject of cookery may be treated by a philosopher. 
 I doubt if the book be written by Dr. Hill; for, in Mrs. 
 Glasse's Cookery, which I have looked into, salt-petre and 
 sal-prunella are spoken of as different substances whereas 
 sal-prunella is only salt-petre burnt on charcoal; and Hill 
 could not be ignorant of this. However, as the greatest part 
 of such a book is made by transcription, this mistake may 
 have been carelessly adopted. But you shall see what a
 
 378 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON ims 
 
 Book of Cookery I shall make ! I shall agree with Mr. 
 Dilly for the copy-right.' Miss SEWARD. 'That would be 
 Hercules with the distaff indeed.' JOHNSON. 'No, Madam. 
 Women can spin very well; but they cannot make a good 
 book of Cookery. ' 
 
 Mrs. Knowles affected to complain that men had much 
 more liberty allowed them than women. JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 Madam, women have all the liberty they should wish to 
 have. We have all the labour and the danger, and the 
 women all the advantage. We go to sea, we build houses, 
 we do everything, in short, to pay our court to the women.' 
 MRS. KNOWLES. 'The Doctor reasons very wittily, but not 
 convincingly. Now, take the instance of building; the 
 mason's wife, if she is ever seen in liquor, is ruined; the 
 mason may get himself drunk as often as he pleases, with 
 little loss of character; nay, may let his wife and children 
 starve.' JOHNSON. 'Madam, you must consider, if the 
 mason does get himself drunk, and let his wife and children 
 starve, the parish will oblige him to find security for their 
 maintenance. We have different modes of restraining evil. 
 Stocks for the men, a ducking-stool for women, and a pound 
 for beasts. If we require more perfection from women than 
 from ourselves, it is doing them honour. And women have 
 not the same temptations that we have: they may always 
 live in virtuous company; men must mix in the world indis- 
 criminately. If a woman has no inclination to do what is 
 wrong being secured from it is no restraint to her. I am at 
 liberty to walk into the Thames; but if I were to try it, my 
 friends would restrain me in Bedlam, and I should be obliged 
 to them.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Still, Doctor, I cannot help 
 thinking it a hardship that more indulgence is allowed to men 
 than to women. It gives a superiority to men, to which I 
 do not see how they are entitled.' JOHNSON. 'It is plain, 
 Madam, one or other must have the superiority. As Shak- 
 speare says, "If two men ride on a horse, one must ride be- 
 hind."' DILLY. 'I suppose, Sir, Mrs. Knowles would have 
 them to ride in panniers, one on each side.' JOHNSON. 
 'Then, Sir, the horse would throw them both.' MRS. 
 KNOWLES. 'Well, I hope that in another world the sexes
 
 1778] FRIENDSHIP 379 
 
 will be equal.' BOSWELL. 'That is being too ambitious, 
 Madam. We might as well desire to be equal with the 
 angels. We shall all, I hope, be happy in a future state, 
 but we must not expect to be all happy in the same degree. 
 It is enough if we be happy according to our several capa- 
 cities. A worthy carman will get to heaven as well as Sir 
 Isaac Newton. Yet, though equally good, they will not 
 have the same degrees of happiness.' JOHNSON. 'Probably 
 not.' 
 
 Dr. Mayo having asked Johnson's opinion of Soame 
 Jenyns's View of the Internal Evidence of the Christian Re- 
 ligion; JOHNSON. 'I think it a pretty book; not very 
 theological indeed; and there seems to be an affectation of 
 ease and carelessness, as if it were not suitable to his charac- 
 ter to be very serious about the matter.' BOSWELL. 'He 
 may have intended this to introduce his book the better 
 among genteel people, who might be unwilling to read too 
 grave a treatise. There is a general levity in the age. We 
 have physicians now with bag- wigs; may we not have airy 
 divines, at least somewhat less solemn in their appearance 
 than they used to be?' JOHNSON. 'Jenyns might mean as 
 you say.' BOSWELL. 'You should like his book, Mrs. 
 Knowles, as it maintains, as you friends do, that courage is 
 not a Christian virtue.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'Yes, indeed, I 
 like him there; but I cannot agree with him, that friend- 
 ship is not a Christian virtue.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, 
 strictly speaking, he is right. All friendship is preferring 
 the interest of a friend, to the neglect, or, perhaps, against 
 the interest of others; so that an old Greek said, "He that 
 has friends has no friend," Now Christianity recommends 
 universal benevolence, to consider all men as our brethren, 
 which is contrary to the virtue of friendship, as described 
 by the ancient philosophers. Surely, Madam, your sect 
 must approve of this; for, you call all men friends.' MBS, 
 KNOWLES. 'We are commanded to do good to all men, 
 "but especially to them who are of the household of Faith.'" 
 JOHNSON. 'Well, Madam. The household of Faith is wide 
 enough.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'But, Doctor, our Saviour had 
 twelve Apostles, yet there was one whom he loved. John
 
 380 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 was called "the disciple whom JESUS loved.'" JOHNSON. 
 (with eyes sparkling benignantly,) 'Very well, indeed, 
 Madam. You have said very well.' BOSWELL. 'A fine 
 application. Pray, Sir, had you ever thought of it ? ' JOHN- 
 SON. 'I had not, Sir.' 
 
 From this pleasing subject, he, I know not how or why, 
 made a sudden transition to one upon which he was a violent 
 aggressor; for he said, 'I am willing to love all mankind, 
 except an American:' and his inflammable corruption burst- 
 ing into horrid fire, he 'breathed out threatenings and 
 slaughter;' calling them, 'Rascals Robbers Pirates;' and 
 exclaiming, he'd 'burn and destroy them.' Miss Seward, 
 looking to him with mild but steady astonishment, said, 
 'Sir, this is an instance that we are always most violent 
 against those whom we have injured.' He was irritated still 
 more by this delicate and keen reproach; and roared out 
 another tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be 
 heard across the Atlantick. During this tempest I sat in 
 great uneasiness, lamenting his heat of temper; till, by de- 
 grees, I diverted his attention to other topicks. 
 
 Talking of Miss , a literary lady, he said, 'I was 
 
 obliged to speak to Miss Reynolds, to let her know that 
 I desired she would not flatter me so much.' Somebody now 
 observed, 'She flatters Garrick.' JOHNSON. 'She is in the 
 right to flatter Garrick. She is in the right for two reasons; 
 first, because she has the world with her, who have been 
 praising Garrick these thirty years; and secondly, because 
 she is rewarded for it by Garrick. Why should she flatter 
 me? I can do nothing for her. Let her carry her praise to 
 a better market. (Then turning to Mrs. Knowles.) You, 
 Madam, have been flattering me all the evening; I wish you 
 would give Boswell a little now. If you knew his merit as 
 well as I do, you would say a great deal; he is the best 
 travelling companion in the world.' 
 
 Somebody mentioned the Reverend Mr. Mason's prose- 
 cution of Mr. Murray, the bookseller, for having inserted in 
 a collection of Gray's Poems, only fifty lines, of which Mr. 
 Mason had still the exclusive property, under the statute of 
 Queen Anne; and that Mr. Mason had persevered, notwith-
 
 1778] WESLEY AND GHOSTS 381 
 
 standing his being requested to name his own terms of com- 
 pensation. Johnson signified his displeasure at Mr. Mason's 
 conduct very strongly; but added, by way of shewing that 
 he was not surprized at it, 'Mason's a Whig.' MRS. 
 KNOWLES. (not hearing distinctly,) 'What! a Prig, Sir?' 
 JOHNSON. 'Worse, Madam; a Whig! But he is both.' 
 
 Of John Wesley, he said, 'He can talk well on any subject.' 
 BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, what has he made of his story of 
 a ghost?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, he believes it; but not on 
 sufficient authority. He did not take time enough to ex- 
 amine the girl. It was at Newcastle, where the ghost was 
 said to have appeared to a young woman several times, 
 mentioning something about the right to an old house, ad- 
 vising application to be made to an attorney, which was 
 done; and, at the same tune, saying the attorneys would do 
 nothing, which proved to be the fact. "This (says John,) is 
 a proof that a ghost knows our thoughts." Now (laughing,) 
 it is not necessary to know our thoughts, to tell that an 
 attorney will sometimes do nothing. Charles Wesley, who 
 is a more stationary man, does not believe the story. I am 
 sorry that John did not take more pains to inquire into the 
 evidence for it.' Miss SEWARD, (with an incredulous smile,) 
 'What, Sir! about a ghost?' JOHNSON, (with solemn ve- 
 hemence,) 'Yes, Madam: this is a question which, after 
 five thousand years, is yet undecided; a question, whether 
 in theology or philosophy, one of the most important that 
 can come before the human understanding.' 
 
 Mrs. Knowles mentioned, as a proselyte to Quakerism, 
 
 Miss , a young lady well known to Dr. Johnson, for 
 
 whom he had shewn much affection; while she ever had, 
 and still retained, a great respect for him. Mrs. Knowles at 
 the same time took an opportunity of letting him know ' that 
 the amiable young creature was sorry at finding that he was 
 offended at her leaving the Church of England and embracing 
 a simpler faith;' and, in the gentlest and most persuasive 
 manner, solicited his kind indulgence for what was sincerely 
 a matter of conscience. JOHNSON, (frowning very angrily,) 
 'Madam, she is an odious wench. She could not have any 
 proper conviction that it was her duty to change her religion,
 
 382 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 which is the most important of all subjects, and should be 
 studied with all care, and with all the helps we can get. She 
 knew no more of the Church which she left, and that which 
 she embraced, than she did of the difference between the 
 Copernican and Ptolemaick systems.' MRS. KNOWLES. 
 'She had the New Testament before her.' JOHNSON. 
 'Madam, she could not understand the New Testament, the 
 most difficult book in the world, for which the study of a life 
 is required.' MRS. KNOWLES. 'It is clear as to essentials/ 
 JOHNSON. ' But not as to controversial points. The heathens 
 were easily converted, because they had nothing to give up; 
 but we ought not, without very strong conviction indeed, to 
 desert the religion in which we have been educated. That 
 is the religion given you, the religion in which it may be said 
 Providence has placed you. If you live conscientiously in 
 that religion, you may be safe. But errour is dangerous 
 indeed, if you err when you choose a religion for yourself.' 
 MRS. KNOWLES. 'Must we then go by implicit faith?' 
 JOHNSON. ' Why, Madam, the greatest part of our knowledge 
 is implicit faith; and as to religion, have we heard all that 
 a disciple of Confucius, all that a Mahometan, can say for 
 himself ? ' He then rose again into passion, and attacked the 
 young proselyte in the severest terms of reproach, so that 
 both the ladies seemed to be much shocked. 
 
 We remained together till it was pretty late. Notwith- 
 standing occasional explosions of violence, we were all de- 
 lighted upon the whole with Johnson. I compared him at 
 this time to a warm West-Indian climate, where you have 
 a bright sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage, luscious 
 fruits; but where the same heat sometimes produces thun- 
 der, lightning, earthquakes, in a terrible degree. 
 
 April 17, being Good Friday, I waited on Johnson, as 
 usual. I observed at breakfast that although it was a part 
 of his abstemious discipline on this most solemn fast, to take 
 no milk in his tea, yet when Mrs. Desmoulins inadvertently 
 poured it in, he did not reject it. I talked of the strange in- 
 decision of mind, and imbecility in the common occurrences 
 of life, which we may observe in some people. JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, I am in the habit of getting others to do things
 
 1778] BOSWELL'S TRAVELS 383 
 
 for me.' BOSWELL. 'What, Sir! have you that weakness?' 
 JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I always think afterwards I 
 should have done better for myself.' 
 
 I expressed some inclination to publish an account of my 
 Travels upon the continent of Europe, for which I had a 
 variety of materials collected. JOHNSON. 'I do not say, 
 Sir, you may not publish your travels; but I give you my 
 opinion, that you would lessen yourself by it. What can 
 you tell of countries so well known as those upon the con- 
 tinent of Europe, which you have visited ? ' BOSWELL. ' But 
 I can give an entertaining narrative, with many incidents, 
 anecdotes, jeux d'esprit, and remarks, so as to make very 
 pleasant reading.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, most modern 
 travellers in Europe who have published their travels, have 
 been laughed at: I would not have you added to the number. 
 The world is now not contented to be merely entertained by 
 a traveller's narrative; they want to learn something. Now 
 some of my friends asked me, why I did not give some ac- 
 count of my travels in France. The reason is plain ; intelli- 
 gent readers had seen more of France than I had. You 
 might have liked my travels in France, and THE CLUB might 
 have liked them; but, upon the whole, there would have 
 been more ridicule than good produced by them.' BOB- 
 WELL. 'I cannot agree with you, Sir. People would like 
 to read what you say of any thing. Suppose a face has been 
 painted by fifty painters before; still we love to see it done 
 by Sir Joshua.' JOHNSON. 'True, Sir, but Sir Joshua can- 
 not paint a face when he has not time to look on it.' BOB- 
 WELL. ' Sir, a sketch of any sort by him is valuable. And, 
 Sir, to talk to you in your own style (raising my voice, and 
 shaking my head,) you should have given us your travels in 
 France. I am sure I am right, and there's an end on't.' 
 
 I said to him that it was certainly true, as my friend 
 Dempster had observed in his letter to me upon the subject, 
 that a great part of what was in his Journey to the Western 
 Islands of Scotland had been in his mind before he left Lon- 
 don. JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir, the topicks were; and 
 books of travels will be good in proportion to what a man 
 has previously in his mind; his knowing what to observe;
 
 384 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [i?78 
 
 his power of contrasting one mode of life with another. As 
 the Spanish proverb says, "He, who would bring home the 
 wealth of the Indies, must carry the wealth of the Indies 
 with him." So it is in travelling; a man must carry knowl- 
 edge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'The proverb, I suppose, Sir, means, he must carry 
 a large stock with him to trade with.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, 
 Sir.' 
 
 It was a delightful day: as we walked to St. Clement's 
 church, I again remarked that Fleet-street was the most 
 cheerful scene in the world. 'Fleet-street (said I,) is in my 
 mind more delightful than Tempe.' JOHNSON. 'Ay, Sir; 
 but let it be compared with Mull.' 
 
 There was a very numerous congregation to-day at St. 
 Clement's church, which Dr. Johnson said he observed with 
 pleasure. 
 
 And now I am to give a pretty full account of one of the 
 most curious incidents in Johnson's life, of which he himself 
 has made the following minute on this day: 'In my return 
 from church, I was accosted by Edwards, an old fellow-colle- 
 gian, who had not seen me since 1729. He knew me, and 
 asked if I remembered one Edwards; I did not at first rec- 
 ollect the name, but gradually as we walked along, recovered 
 it, and told him a conversation that had passed at an ale- 
 house between us. My purpose is to continue our ac- 
 quaintance.' 
 
 It was in Butcher-row that this meeting happened. Mr. 
 Edwards, who was a decent-looking elderly man in grey 
 clothes, and a wig of many curls, accosted Johnson with 
 familiar confidence, knowing who he was, while Johnson 
 returned his salutation with a courteous formality, as to a 
 stranger. But as soon as Edwards had brought to his recol- 
 lection their having been at Pembroke-College together 
 nine-and-forty years ago, he seemed much pleased, asked 
 where he lived, and said he should be glad to see him in Bolt- 
 court. EDWARDS. 'Ah, Sir! we are old men now.' JOHN- 
 SON, (who never liked to think of being old,) 'Don't let us 
 discourage one another.' EDWARDS. 'Why, Doctor, you 
 look stout and hearty, I am happy to see you so; for the
 
 1778] A FELLOW COLLEGIAN 385 
 
 news-papers told us you were very ill.' JOHNSON. 'Ay, 
 Sir, they are always telling lies of us old fellows.' 
 
 Wishing to be present at more of so singular a conversa- 
 tion as that between two fellow-collegians, who had lived 
 forty years in London without ever having chanced to meet, 
 I whispered to Mr. Edwards that Dr. Johnson was going 
 home, and that he had better accompany him now. So 
 Edwards walked along with us, I eagerly assisting to keep 
 up the conversation. Mr. Edwards informed Dr. Johnson 
 that he had practised long as a solicitor in Chancery, but that 
 he now lived in the country upon a little farm, about sixty 
 acres, just by Stevenage in Hertfordshire, and that he came 
 to London (to Barnard's Inn, No. 6), generally twice a week. 
 Johnson appearing to me in a reverie, Mr. Edwards addressed 
 himself to me, and expatiated on the pleasure 'of living in the 
 country. BOSWELL. 'I have no notion of this, Sir. What 
 you have to entertain you, is, I think, exhausted in half an 
 hour.' EDWARDS. 'What? don't you love to have hope 
 realized? I see my grass, and my corn, and my trees grow- 
 ing. Now, for instance, I am curious to see if this frost has 
 not nipped my fruit-trees.' JOHNSON, (who we did not 
 imagine was attending,) 'You find, Sir, you have fears as 
 well as hopes.' So well did he see the whole, when another 
 saw but the half of a subject. 
 
 When we got to Dr. Johnson's house, and were seated in. 
 his library, the dialogue went on admirably. EDWARDS. 
 'Sir, I remember you would not let us say prodigious at 
 College. For even then, Sir, (turning to me,) he was deli- 
 cate in language, and we all feared him.' l JOHNSON, (to 
 Edwards,) ' From your having practised the law long, Sir, 
 I presume you must be rich.' EDWARDS. 'No, Sir; I got 
 a good deal of money ; but I had a number of poor relations 
 to whom I gave a great part of it.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you 
 have been rich in the most valuable sense of the word.' 
 EDWARDS. 'But I shall not die rich.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 sure, Sir, it is better to live rich than to die rich.' EDWARDS. 
 
 1 Johnson said to me afterwards,""' Sir, they respected me for my 
 literature; and yet it was not great but by comparison. Sir, it is amaz- 
 ing how little literature there is in the world.' BOSWELL.
 
 386 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 'I wish I had continued at College.' JOHNSON. 'Why do 
 you wish that, Sir?' EDWARDS. 'Because I think I should 
 have had a much easier life than mine has been. I should 
 have been a parson, and had a good living, like Bloxam and 
 several others, and lived comfortably.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, the 
 life of a parson, of a conscientious clergyman, is not easy. 
 I have always considered a clergyman as the father of a 
 larger family than he is able to maintain. I would rather 
 have Chancery suits upon my hands than the cure of souls. 
 No, Sir, I do not envy a clergyman's life as an easy life, nor 
 do I envy the clergyman who makes it an easy life.' Here 
 taking himself up all of a sudden, he exclaimed, '0! Mr. 
 Edwards ! I'll convince you that I recollect you. Do you 
 remember our drinking together at an alehouse near Pem- 
 broke gate? At that time, you told me of the Eton boy, 
 who, when verses on our SAVIOUR'S turning water into wine 
 were prescribed as an exercise, brought up a single line, 
 which was highly admired, 
 
 " Vidit ct erubuit lympha pudica DEUM," 
 
 and I told you of another fine line in Camden's Remains, an 
 eulogy upon one of our Kings, who was succeeded by his son, 
 a prince of equal merit: 
 
 11 Mir a cano, Sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta est.'" 
 
 EDWARDS. 'You are a philosopher, Dr. Johnson. I have 
 tried too in my time to be a philosopher; but, I don't know 
 how, cheerfulness was always breaking in.' Mr. Burke, Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Courtenay, Mr. Malone, and, indeed, 
 all the eminent men to whom I have mentioned this, have 
 thought it an exquisite trait of character. The truth is, that 
 philosophy, like religion, is too generally supposed to be hard 
 and severe, at least so grave as to exclude all gaiety. 
 
 EDWARDS. 'I have been twice married, Doctor. You, 
 I suppose, have never known what it was to have a wife.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have known what it was to have a wife, 
 and (in a solemn, tender, f aultering tone) I have known what 
 it was to lose a wife. It had almost broke my heart.'
 
 1778] REGULAR MEALS AND FASTING 387 
 
 EDWARDS. 'How do you live, Sir? For my part, I must 
 have my regular meals, and a glass of good wine. I find 
 I require it.' JOHNSON. 'I now drink no wine, Sir. Early 
 in life I drank wine: for many years I drank none. I then 
 for some years drank a great deal.' EDWARDS. 'Some hogs- 
 heads, I warrant you.' JOHNSON. 'I then had a severe 
 illness, and left it off, and I have never begun it again. I 
 never felt any difference upon myself from eating one thing 
 rather than another, nor from one kind of weather rather 
 than another. There are people, I believe, who feel a differ- 
 ence; but I am not one of them. And as to regular meals, 
 I have fasted from the Sunday's dinner to the Tuesday's 
 dinner, without any inconvenience. I believe it is best to 
 eat just as one is hungry: but a man who is in business, or 
 a man who has a family, must have stated meals. I am 
 a straggler. I may leave this town and go to Grand Cairo, 
 without being missed here or observed there.' EDWARDS. 
 'Don't you eat supper, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' ED- 
 WARDS. 'For my part, now, I consider supper as a turnpike 
 through which one must pass, in order to get to bed.' 
 
 JOHNSON. 'You are a lawyer, Mr. Edwards. Lawyers 
 know life practically. A bookish man should always have 
 them to converse with. They have what he wants.' ED- 
 WARDS. 'I am grown old: I am sixty-five.' JOHNSON. 'I 
 shall be sixty-eight next birth-day. Come, Sir, drink water, 
 and put in for a hundred.' 
 
 This interview confirmed my opinion of Johnson's most 
 humane and benevolent heart. His cordial and placid be- 
 haviour to an old fellow-collegian, a man so different from 
 himself; and his telling him that he would go down to his 
 farm and visit him, showed a kindness of disposition very 
 rare at an advanced age. He observed, 'how wonderful it 
 was that they had both been in London forty years, without 
 having ever once met, and both walkers in the street too!' 
 Mr. Edwards, when going away, again recurred to his con- 
 sciousness of senility, and looking full in Johnson's face, said 
 to him, 'You'll find in Dr. Young, 
 
 "O my coevals! remnants of yourselves."'
 
 388 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 Johnson did not relish this at all; but shook his head with 
 impatience. Edwards walked off, seemingly highly pleased 
 with the honour of having been thus noticed by Dr. Johnson. 
 When he was gone, I said to Johnson, I thought him but 
 a weak man. JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir. Here is a man 
 who has passed through life without experience: yet I would 
 rather have him with me than a more sensible man who will 
 not talk readily. This man is always willing to say what he 
 has to say.' Yet Dr. Johnson had himself by no means that 
 willingness which he praised so much, and I think so justly; 
 for who has not felt the painful effect of the dreary void, 
 when there is a total silence in a company, for any length of 
 time; or, which is as bad, or perhaps worse, when the con- 
 versation is with difficulty kept up by a perpetual effort? 
 
 Johnson once observed to me, 'Tom Tyers described me 
 the best: "Sir, (said he,) you are like a ghost: you never 
 speak till you are spoken to.'" 
 
 The gentleman whom he thus familiarly mentioned was 
 Mr. Thomas Tyers, son of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the founder 
 of that excellent place of publick amusement, Vauxhall 
 Gardens, which must ever be an estate to its proprietor, as it 
 is peculiarly adapted to the taste of the English nation; 
 there being a mixture of curious show, gay exhibition, 
 musick, vocal and instrumental, not too refined for the gen- 
 eral ear; for all which only a shilling is paid; and, though 
 last, not least, good eating and drinking for those who choose 
 to purchase that regale. Mr. Thomas Tyers was bred to the 
 law; but having a handsome fortune, vivacity of temper, 
 and eccentricity of mind, he could not confine himself to the 
 regularity of practice. He therefore ran about the world 
 with a pleasant carelessness, amusing everybody by his 
 desultory conversation. He abounded in anecdote, but was 
 not sufficiently attentive to accuracy. I therefore cannot 
 venture to avail myself much of a biographical sketch of 
 Johnson which he published, being one among the various 
 persons ambitious of appending their names to that of my 
 illustrious friend. That sketch is, however, an entertaining 
 little collection of fragments. Those which he published of 
 Pope and Addison are of higher merit; but his fame must
 
 1778] JOHNSON'S DISAPPOINTED AMBITION 389 
 
 chiefly rest upon his Political Conferences, in which he in- 
 troduces several eminent persons delivering their sentiments 
 in the way of dialogue, and discovers a considerable share of 
 learning, various knowledge, and discernment of character. 
 This much may I be allowed to say of a man who was ex- 
 ceedingly obliging to me, and who lived with Dr. Johnson 
 in as easy a manner as almost any of his very numerous 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Mr. Edwards had said to me aside, that Dr. Johnson 
 should have been of a profession. I repeated the remark to 
 Johnson that I might have his own thoughts on the subject. 
 JOHNSON. ' Sir, it would have been better that I had been of 
 a profession. I ought to have been a lawyer.' BOSWELL. 
 ' I do not think, Sir, it would have been better, for we should 
 not have had the English Dictionary.' JOHNSON. 'But you 
 would have had /teporte.' BOSWELL. 'Ay; but there would 
 not have been another, who could have written the Dic- 
 tionary. There have been many very good Judges. Suppose 
 you had been Lord Chancellor; you would have delivered 
 opinions with more extent of mind, and in a more ornamented 
 manner, than perhaps any Chancellor ever did, or ever will 
 do. But, I believe, causes have been as judiciously decided 
 as you could have done.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. Property 
 has been as well settled.' 
 
 Johnson, however, had a noble ambition floating in his 
 mind, and had, undoubtedly, often speculated on the possi- 
 bility of his supereminent powers being rewarded in this 
 great and liberal country by the highest honours of the state. 
 Sir William Scott informs me, that upon the death of the 
 late Lord Lichfield, who was Chancellor of the University of 
 Oxford, he said to Johnson, ' What a pity it is, Sir, that you 
 did not follow the profession of the law. You might have 
 been Lord Chancellor of Great Britain, and attained to the 
 dignity of the peerage; and now that the title of Lichfield, 
 your native city, is extinct, you might have had it.' Johnson, 
 upon this, seemed much agitated; and, in an angry tone, 
 exclaimed, ' Why will you vex me by suggesting this, when 
 it is too late?' 
 
 But he did not repine at the prosperity of others. The
 
 390 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 late Dr. Thomas Leland, told Mr. Courtenay, that when 
 Mr. Edmund Burke shewed Johnson his fine house and lands 
 near Beaconsfield, Johnson coolly said, 'Non equidem invideo; 
 miror magis.' 1 
 
 Yet no man had a higher notion of the dignity of literature 
 than Johnson, or was more determined in maintaining the 
 respect which he justly considered as due to it. Of this, 
 besides the general tenor of his conduct in society, some 
 characteristical instances may be mentioned. 
 
 He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that once when he dined in 
 a numerous company of booksellers, where the room being 
 small, the head of the table, at which he sat, was almost 
 close to the fire, he persevered in suffering a great deal of 
 inconvenience from the heat, rather than quit his place, 
 and let one of them sit above him. 
 
 Goldsmith, in his diverting simplicity, complained one 
 day, in a mixed company, of Lord Camden. 'I met him 
 (said he,) at Lord Clare's house in the country, and he took 
 no more notice of me than if I had been an ordinary man. 
 The company having laughed heartily, Johnson stood forth 
 in defence of his friend. 'Nay, Gentlemen, (said he,) Dr. 
 Goldsmith is in the right. A nobleman ought to have made 
 up to such a man as Goldsmith; and I think it is much 
 against Lord Camden that he neglected him.' 
 
 Nor could he patiently endure to hear that such respect 
 as he thought due only to higher intellectual qualities, 
 should be bestowed on men of slighter, though perhaps 
 more amusing talents. I told him, that one morning, when 
 I went to breakfast with Garrick, who was very vain of his 
 intimacy with Lord Camden, he accosted me thus: 'Pray 
 now, did you did you meet a little lawyer turning the 
 corner, eh?' 'No, Sir, (said I). Pray what do you mean 
 by the question?' 'Why, (replied Garrick, with an affected 
 indifference, yet as if standing on tip-toe,) Lord Camden has 
 this moment left me. We have had a long walk together.' 
 
 ' I am not entirely without suspicion that Johnson may have felt 
 a little momentary envy ; for no man loved the. good things of this life 
 better than he did ; and he could not but be conscious that he deserved 
 a much larger share of them, than he ever had. BOSWELL.
 
 1778] UNWILLING TO PART WITH LIFE 391 
 
 JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir, Garrick talked very properly. Lord 
 Camden was a little lawyer to be associating so familiarly 
 with a player.' 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds observed, with great truth, that 
 Johnson considered Garrick to be as it were his property. 
 He would allow no man either to blame or to praise Garrick 
 in his presence, without contradicting him. 
 
 Having fallen into a very serious frame of mind, in which 
 mutual expressions of kindness passed between us, such as 
 would be thought too vain in me to repeat, I talked with 
 regret of the sad inevitable certainty that one of us must 
 survive the other. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, that is an affect- 
 ing consideration. I remember Swift, in one of his letters 
 to Pope, says, "I intend to come over, that we may meet 
 once more; and when we must part, it is what happens to 
 all human beings.'" BOSWELL. 'The hope that we shall 
 see our departed friends again must support the mind.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir.' BOSWELL. "There is a strange 
 unwillingness to part with life, independent of serious fears 
 as to futurity. A reverend friend of ours (naming him) 
 tells me, that he feels an uneasiness at the thoughts of 
 leaving his house, his study, his books.' JOHNSON. '.This 
 is foolish in.*****. A man need not be uneasy on these 
 grounds; for, as he will retain his consciousness, he may 
 say with the philosopher, Omnia mea mecum porto.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'True, Sir: we may carry our books in our heads; 
 but still there is something painful in the thought of leav- 
 ing for ever what has given us pleasure. I remember, 
 many years ago, when my imagination was warm, and I 
 happened to be in a melancholy mood, it distressed me to 
 think of going into a state of being in which Shakspeare's 
 poetry did not exist. A lady whom I then much admired, 
 a very amiable woman, humoured my fancy, and relieved 
 me by saying, "The first thing you will meet in the other 
 world, will be an elegant copy of Shakspeare's works pre- 
 sented to you."' Dr. Johnson smiled benignantly at this, 
 and did not appear to disapprove of the notion. 
 
 We went to St. Clement's church again in the afternoon, 
 and then returned and drank tea and coffee in Mrs. Wil-
 
 392 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 liams's room; Mrs. Desmoulins doing th honours of the 
 tea-table. I observed that he would not even look at a 
 proof-sheet of his Life of Waller on Good-Friday. 
 
 On Saturday, April 14, I drank tea with him. He praised 
 the late Mr. Duncombe, of Canterbury, as a pleasing man. 
 'He used to come to me: I did not seek much after him. 
 Indeed I never sought much after any body.' BOSWELL. 
 'Lord Orrery, I suppose.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I never 
 went to him but when he sent for me.' BOSWELL. ' Richard- 
 son?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I sought after George 
 Psalmanazar the most. I used to go and sit with him at 
 an alehouse in the city.' 
 
 I am happy to mention another instance which I discov- 
 ered of his seeking after a man of merit. Soon after the 
 Honourable Daines Barrington had published his excellent 
 Observations on the Statutes, Johnson waited on that worthy 
 and learned gentleman; and, having told him his name, 
 courteously said, 'I have read your book, Sir, with great 
 pleasure, and wish to be better known to you.' Thus be- 
 gan an acquaintance, which was continued with mutual re- 
 gard as long as Johnson lived. 
 
 Talking of a recent seditious delinquent, he said, 'They 
 should set him in the pillory, that he may be punished in 
 a way that would disgrace him.' I observed, that the pil- 
 lory does not always disgrace. And I mentioned an instance 
 of a gentleman who I thought was not dishonoured by it. 
 JOHNSON. 'Ay, but he was, Sir. He could not mouth and 
 strut as he used to do, after having been there. People are 
 not willing to ask a man to their tables who has stood in 
 the pillory,' 
 
 Johnson attacked the Americans with intemperate ve- 
 hemence of abuse. I said something in their favour; and 
 added, that I was always sorry when he talked on that 
 subject. This, it seems, exasperated him; though he said 
 nothing at the time. The cloud was charged with sul- 
 phureous vapour, which was afterwards to burst in thunder. 
 We talked of a gentleman who was running out his for- 
 tune in London; and I said, 'We must get him out of it. 
 All his friends must quarrel with him, and that will soon
 
 1778] HIS DRAWING-ROOM 393 
 
 drive him away.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; we'll send you to- 
 him. If your company does not drive a man out of his house, 
 nothing will.' This was a horrible shock, for which there 
 was no visible cause. I afterwards asked him why he had 
 said so harsh a thing. JOHNSON. 'Because, Sir, you made 
 me angry about the Americans.' BOSWELL. 'But why did 
 you not take your revenge directly?' JOHNSON, (smiling,) 
 'Because, Sir, I had nothing ready. A man cannot strike 
 till he has his weapons.' This was a candid and pleasant 
 confession. 
 
 He shewed me to-night his drawing-room, very genteelly 
 fitted up; and said, 'Mrs. Thrale sneered when I talked of 
 my having asked you and your lady to live at my house. 
 I was obliged to tell her, that you would be in as respect- 
 able a situation in my house as in hers. Sir, the insolence 
 of wealth will creep out.' BOSWELL. 'She has a little both 
 of the insolence of wealth, and the conceit of parts.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'The insolence of wealth is a wretched thing; but the 
 conceit of parts has some foundation. To be sure it sh&uld 
 not be. But who is without it ? ' BOSWELL. ' Yourself, Sir.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, I play no tricks: I lay no traps.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'No, Sir. You are six feet high, and you only do 
 not stoop.' 
 
 We talked of the numbers of people that sometimes have 
 composed the household of great families. I mentioned 
 that there were a hundred in the family of the present Earl 
 of Eglintoune's father. Dr. Johnson seeming to doubt it, 
 I began to enumerate. 'Let us see: my Lord and my Lady 
 two.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, if you are to count by twos, 
 you may be long enough.' BOSWELL. 'Well, but now I 
 add two sons and seven daughters, and a servant for each, 
 that will make twenty; so we have the fifth part already.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Very true. You get at twenty pretty readily; 
 but you will not so easily get further on. We grow to five 
 feet pretty readily; but it is not so easy to grow to seven.' 
 
 On Monday, April 20, I found him at home in the morn- 
 ing. We talked of a gentleman who we apprehended was 
 gradually involving his circumstances by bad management. 
 JOHNSON. ' Wasting a fortune is evaporation by a thousand
 
 394 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 imperceptible means. If it were a stream, they'd stop it. 
 You must speak to him. It is really miserable. Were he 
 a gamester, it could be said he had hopes of winning. Were 
 he a bankrupt in trade, he might have grown rich; but he 
 has neither spirit to spend nor resolution to spare. He does 
 not spend fast enough to have pleasure from it. He has the 
 crime of prodigality, and the wretchedness of parsimony. 
 If a man is killed in a duel, he is killed as many a one has 
 been killed; but it is a sad thing for a man to lie down and 
 die; to bleed to death, because he has not fortitude enough 
 to sear the wound, or even to stitch it up.' I cannot but 
 pause a moment to admire the fecundity of fancy, and 
 choice of language, which in this instance, and, indeed, on 
 almost all occasions, he displayed. It was well observed 
 by Dr. Percy, now Bishop of Dromore, ' The conversation of 
 Johnson is strong and clear, and may be compared to an 
 antique statue, where every vein and muscle is distinct and 
 bold. Ordinary conversation resembles an inferiour cast.' 
 
 On Saturday, April 25, I dined with him at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's, with the learned Dr. Musgrave, Counsellor 
 Leland of Ireland, son to the historian, Mrs. Cholmondeley, 
 and some more ladies. 
 
 'Demosthenes Taylor, as he was called, (that is, the 
 Editor of Demosthenes) was the most silent man, the merest 
 statue of a man that I have ever seen. I once dined in com- 
 pany with him, and all he said during the whole time was no 
 more than Richard. How a man should say only Richard, 
 it is not easy to imagine. But it was thus: Dr. Douglas 
 was talking of Dr. Zachary Grey, and ascribing to him some- 
 thing that was written by Dr. Richard Grey. So, to correct 
 him, Taylor said, (imitating his affected sententious emphasis 
 and nod,) "Richard."' 
 
 Mrs. Cholmondeley, in a high flow of spirits, exhibited 
 some lively sallies of hyperbolical compliment to Johnson, 
 with whom she had been long acquainted, and was very 
 easy. He was quick in catching the manner of the moment, 
 and answered her somewhat in the style of the hero of a 
 romance, 'Madam, you crown me with unfading laurels.' 
 
 We talked of a lady's verses on Ireland. Miss REYNOLDS.
 
 1778] ADVICE ON PUBLISHING 395 
 
 'Have you seen them, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Madam. I 
 have seen a translation from Horace, by one of her daugh- 
 ters. She shewed it me.' Miss REYNOLDS. 'And how was 
 it, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, very well for a young Miss's 
 verses; that is to say, compared with excellence, nothing; 
 but, very well, for the person who wrote them. I am vexed 
 at being shewn verses in that manner.' Miss REYNOLDS. 
 'But if they should be good, why not give them hearty 
 praise?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam, because I have not 
 then got the better of my bad humour from having been 
 shewn them. You must consider, Madam; beforehand 
 they may be bad, as well as good. Nobody has a right to 
 put another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt 
 the person by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling 
 what is not true.' BOSWELL. 'A man often shews his writ- 
 ings to people of eminence, to obtain from them, either from 
 their good-nature, or from their not being able to tell the 
 truth firmly, a commendation, of which he may afterwards 
 avail himself.' JOHNSON. 'Very true, Sir. Therefore the 
 man, who is asked by an authour, what he thinks of his work, 
 is put to the torture, and is not obliged to speak the truth; 
 so that what he says is not considered as his opinion; yet 
 he has said it, and cannot retract it; and this authour, when 
 mankind are hunting him with a cannister at his tail, can 
 say, "I would not have published, had not Johnson, or Rey- 
 nolds, or Musgrave, or some other good judge, commended 
 the work." Yet I consider it as a very difficult question in 
 conscience, whether one should advise a man not to publish 
 a work, if profit be his object; for the man may say, " Had it 
 not been for you, I should have had the money." Now you 
 cannot be sure; for you have only your own opinion, and the 
 publick may think very differently.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 'You must upon such an occasion have two judgements; 
 one as to the real value of the work, the other as to what 
 may please the general taste at the time.' JOHNSON. 'But 
 you can be sure of neither; and therefore I should scruple 
 much to give a suppressive vote. Both Goldsmith's com- 
 edies were once refused; his first by Garrick, his second by 
 Colman, who was prevailed on at last by much solicitation,
 
 396 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 nay, a kind of force, to bring it on. His Vicar of Wake- 
 field I myself did not think would have had much success. 
 It was written and sold to a bookseller before his Traveller; 
 but published after; so little expectation had the book- 
 seller from it. Had it been sold after the Traveller, he 
 might have had twice as much money for it, though sixty 
 guineas was no mean price. The bookseller had the ad- 
 vantage of Goldsmith's reputation from The Traveller in 
 the sale, though Goldsmith had it not in selling the copy.' 
 SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ' The Beggar's Opera affords a 
 proof how strangely people will differ in opinion about a 
 literary performance. Burke thinks it has no merit.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'It was refused by one of the houses; but I should 
 have thought it would succeed, not from any great excellence 
 in the writing, but from the novelty, and the general spirit 
 and gaiety of the piece, which keeps the audience always 
 attentive, and dismisses them in good humour.' 
 
 We went to the drawing-room, where was a considerable 
 increase of company. Several of us got round Dr. Johnson, 
 and complained that he would not give us an exact cata- 
 logue of his works, that there might be a complete edition. 
 He smiled, and evaded our entreaties. That he intended 
 to do it, I have no doubt, because I have heard him say 
 so; and I have in my possession an imperfect list, fairly 
 written out, which he entitles Historia Studiorum. I once 
 got from one of his friends a list, which there was pretty 
 good reason to suppose was accurate, for it was written down 
 in his presence by this friend, who enumerated each article 
 aloud, and had some of them mentioned to him by Mr. 
 Levett, in concert with whom it was made out; and Johnson, 
 who heard all this, did not contradict it. But when I shewed 
 a copy of this list to him, and mentioned the evidence for 
 its exactness, he laughed, and said, 'I was willing to let 
 them go on as they pleased, and never interfered.' Upon 
 which I read it to him, article by article, and got him posi- 
 tively to own or refuse; and then, having obtained certainty 
 so far, I got some other articles confirmed by him directly; 
 and afterwards, from time to time, made additions under 
 his sanction.
 
 1778] BURKE'S CLASSICAL PUNS 397 
 
 The conversation having turned on Bon-Mots, he quoted, 
 from one of the Ana, an exquisite instance of flattery in a 
 maid of honour in France, who being asked by the Queen 
 what o'clock it was, answered, 'What your Majesty pleases.' 
 He admitted that Mr. Burke's classical pun upon Mr. 
 Wilkes's being carried on the shoulders of the mob, 
 
 -Numerisque fertur 
 
 was admirable; and though he was strangely unwilling to 
 allow to that extraordinary man the talent of wit, he also 
 laughed with approbation at another of his playful con- 
 ceits; which was, that 'Horace has in one line given a de- 
 scription of a good desirable manour: 
 
 " Est modus in rebus, swtl cerli denique fines; " 
 
 that is to say, a modus as to the tithes and certain fines.' 
 
 He observed, 'A man cannot with propriety speak of 
 himself, except he relates simple facts; as, "I was at Rich- 
 mond:" or what depends on mensuration; as, "I am six 
 feet high." He is sure he has been at Richmond; he is sure 
 he is six feet high: but he cannot be sure he is wise, or that 
 he has any other excellence. Then, all censure of a man's 
 self is oblique praise. It is in order to shew how much he 
 can spare. It has all the invidiousness of self-praise, and all 
 the reproach of falsehood.' 
 
 On Tuesday, April 28, he was engaged to dine at General 
 Paoli's, where, as I have already observed, I was still enter- 
 tained in elegant hospitality, and with all the ease and com- 
 fort of a home. I called on him, and accompanied him in 
 a hackney-coach. We stopped first at the bottom of Hedge- 
 lane, into which he went to leave a letter, 'with good news 
 for a poor man in distress,' as he told me. I did not ques- 
 tion him particularly as to this. He himself often resem- 
 bled Lady Bolingbroke's lively description of Pope; that 
 'he was un politique anx choux et aux raves.' He would say r 
 'I dine to-day in Grosvenor-square;' this might be with a
 
 398 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 Duke: or, perhaps, 'I dine to-day at the other end of the 
 town:' or, 'A gentleman of great eminence called on me 
 yesterday.' He loved thus to keep things floating in con- 
 jecture: Omne ignotum pro magnifico est. I believe I ven- 
 tured to dissipate the cloud, to unveil the mystery, more 
 freely and frequently than any of his friends. We stopped 
 again at Wirgman's, the well-known toy-shop, in St. James's- 
 street, at the corner of St. James 's-place, to which he had 
 been directed, but not clearly, for he searched about some 
 time, and could not find it at first; and said, 'To direct one 
 only to a corner shop is toying with one.' I suppose he meant 
 this as a play upon the word toy: it was the first time that 
 I knew him stoop to such sport. After he had been some 
 time in the shop, he sent for me to come out of the coach, 
 and help him to choose a pair of silver buckles, as those 
 he had were too small. Probably this alteration in dress 
 had been suggested by Mrs. Thrale, by associating with whom, 
 his external appearance was much improved. He got better 
 cloaths; and the dark colour, from which he never deviated, 
 was enlivened by metal buttons. His wigs, too, were much 
 better; and during their travels in France, he was furnished 
 with a Paris-made wig, of handsome construction. This 
 choosing of silver buckles was a negociation: 'Sir, (said he,) 
 I will not have the ridiculous large ones now in fashion; 
 and I will give no more than a guinea for a pair.' Such were 
 the principles of the business; and, after some examination, 
 he was fitted. As we drove along, I found him in a talking 
 humour, of which I availed myself. BOSWELL. 'I was this 
 morning in Ridley's shop, Sir; and was told, that the collec- 
 tion called Johnsoniana has sold very much.' JOHNSON. 
 .'Yet the Journey to the Hebrides has not had a great sale.' 
 BOSWELL. 'That is strange.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; for 
 in that book I have told the world a great deal that they 
 did not know before.' 
 
 BOSWELL. 'I drank chocolate, Sir, this morning with 
 Mr. Eld; and, to my no small surpri/e, found him to be 
 a Staffordshire Whig, a being which I did not believe had 
 existed.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there are rascals in all countries.' 
 'Eld said, a Tory was a creature generated be-
 
 1778] WINE AND TALK 399 
 
 tween a non-juring parson and one's grandmother.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'And I have always said, the first Whig was the Devil.' 
 BOSWELL. 'He certainly was, Sir. The Devil was impa- 
 tient of subordination; he was the first who resisted power: 
 
 "Better to reign in- Hell, than serve in Heaven." ' 
 
 At General Paoli's were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Lang- 
 ton, Marchese Gherardi of Lombardy, and Mr. John Spottis- 
 woode the younger, of Spottiswoode, the solicitor. 
 
 We talked of drinking wine. JOHNSON. 'I require wine, 
 only when I am alone. I have then often wished for it, and 
 often taken it.' SPOTTISWOODE. 'What, by way of a com- 
 panion, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'To get rid of myself, to send 
 myself away. Wine gives great pleasure; and every pleasure 
 is of itself a good. It is a good, unless counterbalanced by 
 evil. A man may have a strong reason not to drink wine; 
 and that may be greater than the pleasure. Wine makes a 
 man better pleased with himself. I do not say that it makes 
 him more pleasing to others. Sometimes it does. But the 
 danger is, that while a man grows better pleased with himself, 
 he may be growing less pleasing to others. Wine gives a 
 man nothing. It neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it 
 only animates a man, and enables him to bring out what a 
 dread of the company had repressed. It only puts in motion 
 what has been locked up in frost. But this may be good, 
 or it maybe bad.' SPOTTISWOODE. 'So, Sir, wine is a key 
 which opens a box; but this box may be either full or empty.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, conversation is the key: wine is a 
 pick-lock, which forces open the box and injures it. A man 
 should cultivate his mind so as to have that confidence and 
 readiness without wine, which wine gives.' BOSWELL. 
 'The great difficulty of resisting wine is from benevolence. 
 For instance, a good worthy man asks you to taste his wine, 
 which he has had twenty years in his cellar.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, all this notion about benevolence arises from a man's 
 imagining himself to be of more importance to others, than 
 he really is. They don't care a farthing whether he drinks 
 wine or not.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'Yes, they do for
 
 400 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1773 
 
 the time.' JOHNSON. 'For the time! If they care this 
 minute, they forget it the next. And as for the good worthy 
 man; how do you know he is good and worthy? No good 
 and worthy man will insist upon another man's drinking 
 wine. As to the wine twenty years in the cellar, of ten 
 men, three say this, merely because they must say something; 
 three are telling a lie, when they say they have had the 
 wine twenty years; three would rather save the wine; 
 one, perhaps, cares. I allow it is something to please one's 
 company: and people are always pleased with those who 
 partake pleasure with them. But after a man has brought 
 himself to relinquish the great personal pleasure which arises 
 from drinking wine, any other consideration is a trifle. To 
 please others by drinking wine, is something only, if there be 
 nothing against it. I should, however, be sorry to offend 
 worthy men: 
 
 "Curst be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, 
 That tends to make one worthy man my foe." ' 
 
 BOSWELL. 'Curst be the spring, the water.' JOHNSON. 
 'But let us consider what a sad thing it would be, if we 
 were obliged to drink or do any thing else that may happen 
 to be agreeable to the company where we are.' LANGTON. 
 'By the same rule you must join with a gang of cut-purses.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir: but yet we must do justice to wine; 
 we must allow it the power it possesses. To make a man 
 pleased with himself, let me tell you, is doing a very great 
 thing; 
 
 "Si patrice volumus, si Nobis vivere cari."' 
 
 I was at this time myself a water-drinker, upon trial, by 
 Johnson's recommendation. JOHNSON. ' Boswell is a bolder 
 combatant than Sir Joshua : he argues for wine without the 
 help of wine; but Sir Joshua with it.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 'But to please one's company is a strong motive.' JOHNSON. 
 (who, from drinking only water, supposed every body who 
 drank wine to be elevated,) 'I won't argue any more with 
 you, Sir. You are too far gone.' SIR JOSHUA. 'I should
 
 1778] DRINKING TO PLEASE OTHERS 401 
 
 have thought so indeed, Sir, had I made such a speech as 
 you have now done.' JOHNSON, (drawing himself in, and, 
 I really thought blushing,) 'Nay, don't be angry. I did not 
 mean to offend you.' SIR JOSHUA. 'At first the taste of 
 wine was disagreeable to me; but I brought myself to drink 
 it, that I might be like other people. The pleasure of drink- 
 ing wine is so connected with pleasing your company, that 
 altogether there is something of social goodness in it.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, this is only saying the same thing over again.' 
 SIR JOSHUA. 'No, this is new.' JOHNSON. 'You put it 
 in new words, but it is an old thought. This is one of the 
 disadvantages of wine. It makes a man mistake words for 
 thoughts.' BOSWELL. 'I think it is a new thought; at 
 least, it is in a new attitude.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is 
 only in a new coat ; or an old coat with a new facing. (Then 
 laughing heartily,) It is the old dog in a new doublet. An 
 extraordinary instance however may occur where a man's 
 patron will do nothing for him, unless he will drink: there 
 may be a good reason for drinking.' 
 
 I mentioned a nobleman, who I believed was really uneasy 
 if his company would not drink hard. JOHNSON. 'That 
 is from having had people about him whom he has been ac- 
 customed to command.' BOSWELL. 'Supposing I should 
 be tSte-dr-tdte with him at table.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is 
 no more reason for your drinking with him, than his being 
 sober with you.' BOSWELL. 'Why, that is true; for it 
 would do him less hurt to be sober, than it would do me to 
 get drunk.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and from what I have 
 heard of him, one would not wish to sacrifice himself to such 
 a man. If he must always have somebody to drink with him, 
 he should buy a slave, and then he would be sure to have it. 
 They who submit to drink as another pleases, make them- 
 selves his slaves.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, you will surely 
 make allowance for the duty of hospitality. A gentleman 
 who loves drinking, comes to visit me.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, a 
 man knows whom he visits; he comes to the table of a sober 
 man.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, you and I should not have 
 been so well received in the Highlands and Hebrides, if I 
 had not drunk with our worthy friends. Had I drunk water
 
 402 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 only as you did, they would not have%been so cordial.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir William Temple mentions that in his travels 
 through the Netherlands he had two or three gentlemen with 
 him; and when a bumper was necessary, he put it on them. 
 Were I to travel again through the islands, I would have 
 Sir Joshua with me to take the bumpers.' BOSWELL. 'But, 
 Sir, let me put a case. Suppose Sir Joshua should take a 
 jaunt into Scotland; he does me the honour to pay me a 
 visit at my house in the country; I am overjoyed at seeing 
 him; we are quite by ourselves, shall I unsociably and churl- 
 ishly let him sit drinking by himself? No, no, my dear Sir 
 Joshua, you shall not be treated so, I will take a bottle 
 with you.' 
 
 On Wednesday, April 29, I dined with him at Mr. Allan 
 Ramsay's, where were Lord Binning, Dr. Robertson the 
 historian, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and the Honourable Mrs. 
 Boscawen, widow of the Admiral, and mother of the pres- 
 ent Viscount Falmouth; of whom, if it be not presump- 
 tuous in me to praise her, I would say, that her manners 
 are the most agreeable, and her conversation the best, of 
 any lady with whom I ever had the happiness to be ac- 
 quainted. Before Johnson came we talked a good deal of 
 him; Ramsay said he had always found him a very polite 
 man, and that he treated him with great respect, which he 
 did very sincerely. I said I worshipped him. ROBERTSON. 
 'But some of you spoil him; you should not worship him; 
 you should worship no man.' BOSWELL. 'I cannot help 
 worshipping him, he is so much superiour to other men.' 
 ROBERTSON. 'In criticism, and in wit in conversation, he 
 is no doubt very excellent; but in other respects he is not 
 above other men; he will believe any thing, and will strenu- 
 ously defend the most minute circumstance connected with 
 the Church of England.' BOSWELL. 'Believe me, Doctor, 
 you are much mistaken as to this; for when you talk with 
 him calmly in private, he is very liberal in his way of think- 
 ing.' ROBERTSON. 'He and I have been always very gra- 
 cious; the first time I met him was one evening at Strahan's, 
 when he had just had an unlucky altercation with Adam 
 Smith, to whom he had been so rough, that Strahan, after
 
 1778] ESTIMATION OF POPE'S POETRY 403 
 
 Smith was gone, had remonstrated with him, and told him 
 that I was coming soon, and that he was uneasy to think' 
 that he might behave in the same manner to me. "No, 
 no, Sir, (said Johnson,) I warrant you Robertson and I shall 
 do very well." Accordingly he was gentle and good-hum-' 
 cured, and courteous with me the whole evening; and he 
 has been so upon every occasion that we have met since. 
 I have often said (laughing,) that I have been in a great 
 measure indebted to Smith for my good reception.' BOS- 
 WELL. ' His power of reasoning is very strong, and he has a 
 peculiar art of drawing characters, which is as rare as good 
 portrait painting.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ' He is undoubt- 
 edly admirable in this; but, in order to mark the characters 
 which he draws, he overcharges them, and gives people more 
 than they really have, whether of good or bad.' 
 
 No sooner did he, of whom we had been thus talking so : 
 easily, arrive, than we were all as quiet as a school upon 
 the entrance of the head-master; and were very soon set 
 down to a table covered with such variety of good things, 
 as contributed not a little to dispose him to be pleased. 
 
 RAMSAY. 'I am old enough to have been a contemporary 
 of Pope. His poetry was highly admired in his life-time, 
 more a great deal than after his death.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 it has not been less admired since his death; no authours 
 ever had so much fame in their own life-time as Pope and 
 Voltaire; and Pope's poetry has been as much admired 
 since his death as during his life; it has only not been as 
 much talked of, but that is owing to its being now more 
 distant, and people having other writings to talk of. Virgil 
 is less talked of than Pope, and Homer is less talked of than 
 Virgil; but they are not less admired. We must read what 
 the world reads at the moment. It has been maintained 
 that this superfcetation, this teeming of the press in modern 
 times, is prejudicial to good literature, because it obliges us 
 to read so much of what is of inferiour value, in order to be 
 in the fashion; so that better works are neglected for want 
 of time, because a man will have more gratification of his 
 vanity in conversation, from having read modern books, 
 than from having read the best works of antiquity. But it
 
 404 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ms 
 
 must be considered, that we have now more knowledge gen- 
 erally diffused; all our ladies read now, which is a great ex- 
 tension. Modern, writers are the moons of literature; they 
 shine with reflected light, with light borrowed from the an- 
 cients. Greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowl- 
 edge; Rome of elegance.' RAMSAY. 'I suppose Homer's 
 Iliad to be a collection of pieces which had been written 
 before his time. I should like to see a translation of it in 
 poetical prose like the book of Ruth or Job.' ROBERTSON. 
 ''Would you, Dr. Johnson, who are master of the English 
 language, but try your hand upon a part of it.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, you could not read it without the pleasure of verse.' 
 
 Dr. Robertson expatiated on the character of a certain 
 nobleman; that he was one of the strongest-minded men 
 that ever lived; that he would sit in company quite slug- 
 gish, while there was nothing to call forth his intellectual 
 vigour; but the moment that any important subject was 
 started, for instance, how this country is to be defended 
 against a French invasion, he would rouse himself, and shew 
 his extraordinary talents with the most powerful ability and 
 animation. JOHNSON. 'Yet this man cut his own throat. 
 The true strong and sound mind is the mind that can em- 
 brace equally great things and small. Now I am told the 
 King of Prussia will say to a servant, "Bring me a bottle 
 of such a wine, which came in such a year; it lies in such a 
 corner of the cellars." I would have a man great in great 
 things, and elegant in little things.' He said to me after- 
 wards, when we were by ourselves, 'Robertson was in a 
 mighty romantick humour, he talked of one whom he did 
 not know; but I downed him with the King of Prussia.' 
 'Yes, Sir, (said I,) you threw a bottle at his head.' 
 
 An ingenious gentleman was mentioned, concerning whom 
 both Robertson and Ramsay agreed that he had a constant 
 firmness of mind; for after a laborious day, and amidst a 
 multiplicity of cares and anxieties, he would sit down with 
 his sisters and be quite cheerful and good-humoured. Such 
 a disposition, it was observed, was a happy gift of nature. 
 JOHNSON. 'I do not think so; a man has from nature a 
 certain portion of mind; the use he makes of it depends upon
 
 1778] ON OLD AGE 405 
 
 his own free will. That a man has always the same firm- 
 ness of mind I do not say ; because every man feels his mind 
 less firm at one time than another; but I think a man's 
 being in a good or bad humour depends upon his will.' I, 
 however, could not help thinking that a man's humour is 
 often uncontroulable by his will. 
 
 Next day, Thursday, April 30, I found him at home by 
 himself. JOHNSON. 'Well, Sir, Ramsay gave us a splendid 
 dinner. I love Ramsay. You will not find a man in whose 
 conversation there is more instruction, more information, 
 and more elegance, than in Ramsay's.' BOSWELL. 'What 
 I admire in Ramsay, is his continuing to be so young.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir, it is to be admired. I value 
 myself upon this, that there is nothing of the old man in 
 my conversation. I am now sixty-eight, and I have no 
 more of it than at twenty-eight.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, 
 would not you wish to know old age? He who is never an 
 old man, does not know the whole of human life; for old 
 age is one of the divisions of it.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, 
 what talk is this?' BOSWELL. 'I mean, Sir, the Sphinx's 
 description of it; morning, noon, and night. I would 
 know night, as well as morning and noon.' JOHNSON. 
 'What, Sir, would you know what it is to feel the evils of 
 old age? Would you have the gout? Would you have 
 decrepitude?' Seeing him heated, I would not argue any 
 farther; but I was confident that I was in the right. I 
 would, in due time, be a Nestor, an elder of the people;; 
 and there should be some difference between the conversa- 
 tion of twenty-eight and sixty-eight. A grave picture should 
 not be gay. There is a serene, solemn, placid old age. 
 JOHNSON. 'Mrs. Thrale's mother said of me what nattered 
 me much. A clergyman was complaining of want of society 
 in the country where he lived; and said, "They talk of 
 runts;" (that is, young cows). "Sir, (said Mrs. Salusbury,) 
 Mr. Johnson would learn to talk of runts:" meaning that I 
 was a man who would make the most of my situation, what- 
 ever it was.' He added, 'I think myself a very polite man.' 
 
 On Saturday, May 2, I dined with him at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's, where there was a very large company, and a
 
 406 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1778 
 
 great deal of conversation; but owing to some circumstance 
 which I cannot now recollect, I have no record of any part 
 of it, except that there were several people there by no means 
 of the Johnsonian school; so that less attention was paid 
 to him than usual, which put him out of humour; and upon 
 some imaginary offence from me, he attacked me with such 
 rudeness, that I was vexed and angry, because it gave those 
 persons an opportunity of enlarging upon his supposed feroc- 
 ity, and ill treatment of his best friends. I was so much 
 hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that I kept away 
 from him for a week; and, perhaps, might have kept away 
 much longer, nay, gone to Scotland without seeing him again, 
 had not we fortunately met and been reconciled. To such 
 unhappy chances are human friendships liable. 
 
 On Friday, May 8, I dined with him at Mr. Langton's. 
 I was reserved and silent, which I suppose he perceived, 
 and might recollect the cause. After dinner when Mr. 
 Langton was called out of the room, and we were by our- 
 selves, he drew his chair near to mine, and said, in a tone 
 of conciliating courtesy, 'Well, how have you done?' BOS- 
 WELL. 'Sir, you have made me very uneasy by your be- 
 haviour to me when we were last at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. 
 You know, my dear Sir, no man has a greater respect and 
 affection for you, or would sooner go to the end of the world 
 to serve you. Now to treat me so .' He insisted that I 
 had interrupted him, which I assured him was not the case; 
 and proceeded 'But why treat me so before people who 
 neither love you nor me?' JOHNSON. 'Well, I am sorry 
 for it. I'll make it up to you twenty different ways, as you 
 please.' BOSWELL. 'I said to-day to Sir Joshua, when he 
 observed that you tossed me sometimes I don't care how 
 often, or how high he tosses me, when only friends are pres- 
 ent, for then I fall upon soft ground : but I do not like fall- 
 ing on stones, which is the case when enemies are present. 
 I think this a pretty good image, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it 
 is one of the happiest I have ever heard.' 
 
 The truth is, there was no venom in the wounds which 
 he inflicted at any time, unless they were irritated by some 
 malignant infusion by other hands. We were instantly as
 
 1778] AT THE MITRE 407 
 
 cordial again as ever, and joined in hearty laugh at some 
 ludicrous but innocent peculiarities of one of our friends. 
 BOSWELL. 'Do you think, Sir, it is always culpable to laugh 
 at a man to his face?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that depends 
 upon the man and the thing. If it is a slight man, and a 
 slight thing, you may; for you take nothing valuable from 
 him.' 
 
 When Mr. Langton returned to us, the 'flow of talk' 
 went on. An eminent authour being mentioned; JOHNSON. 
 'He is not a pleasant man. His conversation is neither in- 
 structive nor brilliant. He does not talk as if impelled by 
 any fulness of knowledge or vivacity of imagination. His 
 conversation is like that of any other sensible man. He talks 
 with no wish either to inform or to hear, but only because he 
 
 thinks it does not become to sit in a company 
 
 and say nothing.' 
 
 Mr. Langton having repeated the anecdote of Addison 
 having distinguished between his powers in conversation 
 and in writing, by saying 'I have only nine-pence in my 
 pocket; but I can draw for a thousand pounds;' JOHN- 
 SON. 'He had not that retort ready, Sir; he had prepared 
 it before-hand.' LANGTON. (turning to me,) 'A fine surmise. 
 Set a thief to catch a thief.' 
 
 JOHNSON. 'I shall be at home to-morrow.' BOSWELL. 
 'Then let us dine by ourselves at the Mitre, to keep up the 
 old custom, "the custom of the manor," the custom of the 
 mitre.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, so it shall be.' 
 
 On Saturday, May 9, we fulfilled our purpose of dining 
 by ourselves at the Mitre, according to old custom. There 
 was, on these occasions, a little circumstance of kind atten- 
 tion to Mrs. Williams, which must not be omitted. Before 
 coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave her her 
 choice of a chicken, a sweetbread, or any other little nice 
 thing, which was carefully sent to her from the tavern, 
 ready-drest. 
 
 On Tuesday, May 12, 1 waited on the Earl of Marchmont, 
 to know if his Lordship would favour Dr. Johnson with in- 
 formation concerning Pope, whose Life he was about to write. 
 Johnson had not flattered himself with the hopes of receiving
 
 408 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 any civility from this nobleman; for he said to me, when I 
 mentioned Lord Marchmont as one who could tell him a 
 great deal about Pope, 'Sir, he will tell me nothing.' I 
 had the honour of being known to his Lordship, and applied 
 to him of myself, without being commissioned by Johnson. 
 His Lordship behaved in the most polite and obliging manner, 
 promised to tell all he recollected about Pope, and was so 
 very courteous as to say, 'Tell Dr. Johnson I have a great 
 respect for him, and am ready to shew it in any way I can. 
 I am to be in the city to-morrow, and will call at his house 
 as I return.' His Lordship however asked, 'Will he write 
 the Lives of the Poets impartially? He was the first that 
 brought Whig and Tory into a Dictionary. And what do 
 you think of his definition of Excise ? Do you know the his- 
 tory of his aversion to the word transpire ?' Then taking 
 down the folio Dictionary, he shewed it with this censure 
 on its secondary sense: '"To escape from secrecy to notice; 
 a sense lately innovated from France, without necessity." 
 The truth was Lord Bolingbroke. who left the Jacobites, 
 first used it; therefore, it was to be condemned. He should 
 have shewn what word would do for it, if it was unnecessary.' 
 I afterwards put the question to Johnson: 'Why, Sir, (said 
 he,) get abroad. 1 BOSWELL. 'That, Sir, is using two words.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no end of this. You may as well 
 insist to have a word for old age.' BOSWELL. 'Well, Sir, 
 Senectits.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, to insist always that there 
 should be one word to express a thing in English, because 
 there is one in another language, is to change the language.' 
 
 I proposed to Lord Marchmont that he should revise 
 Johnson's Life of Pope: 'So (said his Lordship,) you would 
 put me in a dangerous situation. You know he knocked 
 down Osborne the bookseller.' 
 
 Elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to 
 procure material and respectable aid to Johnson for his very 
 favourite work, The Lives of the Poets, I hastened down to 
 Mr. Thrale's at Streatham, where he now was, that I might 
 insure his being at home next day; and after dinner, when 
 I thought he would receive the good news in the best humour, 
 I announced it eagerly : ' I have been at work for you to-day,
 
 1778] JOHNSON AND LORD MARCHMONT 409 
 
 Sir. I have been with Lord Marchmont. He bade me tell 
 you he has a great respect for you, and will call on you 
 to-morrow at one o'clock, and communicate all he knows 
 about Pope.' Here I paused, in full expectation that he 
 would be pleased with this intelligence, would praise my 
 active merit, and would be alert to embrace such an offer 
 from a nobleman. But whether I had shewn an over-exulta- 
 tion, which provoked his spleen; or whether he was seized 
 with a suspicion that I had obtruded him on Lord March- 
 mont, and humbled him too much; or whether there was any 
 thing more than an unlucky fit of ill-humour, I know not; 
 buc. to my surprize, the result was, JOHNSON. ' I shall not 
 be in town to-morrow. I don't care to know about Pope.' 
 MRS. THRALE. (surprized as I was, and a little angry,) 'I 
 suppose, Sir, Mr. Boswell thought, that as you are to write 
 Pope's Life, you would wish to know about him.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Wish ! why yes. If it rained knowledge I'd hold out 
 my hand; but I would not give myself the trouble to go in 
 quest of it.' There was no arguing with him at the moment. 
 Some time afterwards he said, 'Lord Marchmont will call 
 on me, and then I shall call on Lord Marchmont.' Mr. 
 Thrale was uneasy at his unaccountable caprice; and told 
 me, that if I did not take care to bring about a meeting 
 between Lord Marchmont and him, it would never take 
 place, which would be a great pity. I sent a card to his 
 Lordship, to be left at Johnson's house, acquainting him, 
 that Dr. Johnson could not be in town next day, but would 
 do himself the honour of waiting on him at another time. I 
 give this account fairly, as a specimen of that unhappy tem- 
 per with which this great and good man had occasionally 
 to struggle, from something morbid in his constitution. Let 
 the most censorious of my readers suppose himself to have a 
 violent fit of the tooth-ach, or to have received a severe 
 stroke on the shin-bone, and when in such a state to be asked 
 a question ; and if he has any candour, he will not be sur- 
 prized at the answers which Johnson sometimes gave in mo- 
 ments of irritation, which, let me assure them, is exquisitely 
 painful. But it must not be erroneously supposed that he 
 was, hi the smallest degree, careless concerning any work
 
 410 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1778 
 
 which he undertook, or that he was generally thus peevish. 
 It will be seen, that in the following year he had a very 
 agreeable interview with Lord Marchmont, at his Lordship's 
 house; and this very afternoon he soon forgot any fretful- 
 ness, and fell into conversation as usual. 
 
 JOHNSON. ' How foolish was it in Pope to give all his friend- 
 ship to Ix)rds, who thought they honoured him by being with 
 him; and to choose such Lords as Burlington, and Cobham, 
 and Bolingbroke ! Bathurst was negative, a pleasing man ; 
 and I have heard no ill of Marchmont; and then always 
 saying, "I do not value you for being a Lord;" which was a 
 sure proof that he did. I never say, I do not value Boswell 
 more for being born to an estate, because I do not care.' 
 BOSWELL. 'Nor for being a Scotchman?' JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 Sir, I do value you more for being a Scotchman. You are a 
 Scotchman without the faults of a Scotchman. You would 
 not have been so valuable as you are, had you not been a 
 Scotchman.' 
 
 Amongst the numerous prints pasted on the walls of the 
 dining-room at Streatham, was Hogarth's 'Modern Mid- 
 night Conversation.' I asked him what he knew of Parson 
 Ford, who makes a conspicuous figure in the riotous group. 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, he was my acquaintance and relation, my 
 mother's nephew. He had purchased a living in the country, 
 but not simoniacally. I never saw him but in the country. 
 I have been told he was a man of great parts; very prof- 
 ligate, but I never heard he was impious.' BOSWELL. 
 'Was there not a story of his ghost having appeared?' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, it was believed. A waiter at the Hum- 
 mums, in which house Ford died, had been absent for some 
 time, and returned, not knowing that Ford was dead. 
 Going down to the cellar, according to the story, he met 
 him; going down again he met him a second time. When 
 he came up, he asked some of the people of the house what 
 Ford could be doing there. They told him Ford was dead. 
 The waiter took a fever, in which he lay for some time. 
 When he recovered, he said he had a message to deliver to 
 some women from Ford; but he was not to tell what, or to 
 whom. He walked out; he was followed; but somewhere
 
 1778] STUDY AND TRAVEL 411 
 
 about St. Paul's they lost him. He came back, and said 
 he had delivered the message, and the women exclaimed, 
 "Then we are all undone!" Dr. Pellet, who was not a 
 credulous man, inquired into the truth of this story, and he 
 said, the evidence was irresistible. My wife went to the 
 Hummums; (it is a place where people get themselves cupped.) 
 I believe she went with intention to hear about this story of 
 Ford. At first they were unwilling to tell her; but, after 
 they had talked to her, she came away satisfied that it was 
 true. To be sure the man had a fever; and this vision may 
 have been the beginning of it. But if the message to the 
 women, and their behaviour upon it, were true as related, 
 there was something supernatural. That rests upon his 
 word; and there it remains.' 
 
 I staid all this day 1 with him at Streatham. He talked 
 a great deal, in very good humour. 
 
 Looking at Messrs. Dilly's splendid edition of Lord Ches- 
 terfield's miscellaneous works, he laughed, and said, 'Here 
 now are two speeches ascribed to him, both of which were 
 written by me: and the best of it is, they have found out 
 that one is like Demosthenes, and the other like Cicero.' 
 
 Bos WELL. 'Is not modesty natural?' JOHNSON. 'I 
 cannot say, Sir, as we find no people quite in a state of 
 nature; but I think the more they are taught, the more 
 modest they are. The French are a gross, ill-bred, untaught 
 people; a lady there will spit on the floor and rub it with 
 her foot. What I gained by being in France was, learning 
 to be better satisfied with my own country. Time may be 
 employed to more advantage from nineteen to twenty-four 
 almost in any way than in travelling; when you set travel- 
 ling against mere negation, against doing nothing, it is better 
 to be sure; but how much more would a young man improve 
 were he to study during those years. Indeed, if a young man 
 is wild, and must run after women and bad company, it is 
 better this should be done abroad, as, on his return, he can 
 break off such connections, and begin at home a new man, 
 with a character to form, and acquaintances to make. How 
 little does travelling supply to the conversation of any man 
 1 Wednesday, May 13. ED.
 
 412 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 who has travelled; how little to Beauclerk!' Bos WELL. 
 
 ' What say you to Lord ? ' JOHNSON. ' I never but once 
 
 heard him talk of what he had seen, and that was of a large 
 serpent in one of the Pyramids of Egypt.' BOSWELL. ' Well, 
 I happened to hear him tell the same thing, which made me 
 mention him.' 
 
 I talked of a country life. JOHNSON. 'Were I to live in 
 the country, I would not devote myself to the acquisition of 
 popularity; I would live in a much better way, much more 
 happily; I would have my time at my own command.' 
 BOSWELL. ' But, Sir, is it not a sad thing to be at a distance 
 from all our literary friends?' JOHNSON". 'Sir, you will by 
 and by have enough of this conversation, which now delights 
 you so much.' 
 
 As he was a zealous friend of subordination, he was at all 
 times watchful to repress the vulgar cant against the man- 
 ners of the great; 'High people, Sir, (said he,) are the best; 
 take a hundred ladies of quality, you'll find them better 
 wives, better mothers, more willing to sacrifice their own 
 pleasure to their children than a hundred other women. 
 Tradeswomen (I mean the wives of tradesmen) in the city, 
 who are worth from ten to fifteen thousand pounds, are the 
 worst creatures upon the earth, grossly ignorant, and think- 
 ing viciousness fashionable. Farmers, I think, are often 
 worthless fellows. Few lords will cheat; and, if they do, 
 they'll be ashamed of it: farmers cheat and are not ashamed 
 of it: they have all the sensual vices too of the nobility, 
 with cheating into the bargain. There is as much fornica- 
 tion and adultery among farmers as amongst noblemen.' 
 BOSWELL. 'The notion of the world, Sir, however is, that 
 the morals of women of quality are worse than those in lower 
 stations.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, the licentiousness of one 
 woman of quality makes more noise than that of a number 
 of women in lower stations; then, Sir, you are to consider 
 the malignity of women in the city against women of quality, 
 which will make them believe any thing of them, such as 
 that they call their coachmen to bed. No, Sir, so far as I 
 have observed, the higher in rank, the richer ladies are, they 
 are the better instructed and the more virtuous.'
 
 1778] JOHNSON AT WARLEY-CAMP 413 
 
 On Tuesday, May 19, I was to set out for Scotland in the 
 evening. He was engaged to dine with me at Mr. Dilly's, 
 I waited upon him to remind him of his appointment and 
 attend him thither; he gave me some salutary counsel, and 
 recommended vigorous resolution against any deviation 
 from moral duty. BOSWELL. ' But you would not have me 
 to bind myself by a solemn obligation?' JOHNSON, (much 
 agitated,) 'What! a vow O, no, Sir, a vow is a horrible 
 thing, it is a snare for sin. The man who cannot go to 
 Heaven without a vow may go ' Here, standing erect, 
 in the middle of his library, and rolling grand, his pause was 
 truly a curious compound of the solemn and the ludicrous; 
 he half-whistled in his usual way, when pleasant, and he 
 paused, as if checked by religious awe. Methought he would 
 have added to Hell but was restrained. I humoured the 
 dilemma. 'What! Sir, (said I,) In coelum jusseris ibitf 
 alluding to his imitation of it, 
 
 ' And bid him go to Hell, to Hell he goes.' 
 
 We had a quiet comfortable meeting at Mr. Dilly's; no- 
 body there but ourselves. My illustrious friend and I parted 
 with assurances of affectionate regard. 
 
 Mr. Langton has been pleased, at my request, to favour me 
 with some particulars of Dr. Johnson's visit to Warley-camp, 
 where this gentleman was at the time stationed as a Captain 
 in the Lincolnshire militia. I shall give them in his own 
 words in a letter to me. 
 
 'It was in the summer of the year 1778, that he complied 
 with my invitation to come down to the Camp at Warley, 
 and he staid with me about a week; the scene appeared, 
 notwithstanding a great degree of ill health that he seemed 
 to labour under, to interest and amuse him, as agreeing with 
 the disposition that I believe you know he constantly mani- 
 fested towards enquiring into subjects of the military kind. 
 He sate, with a patient degree of attention, to observe the 
 proceedings of a regimental court-martial, that happened to 
 be called, in the time of his stay with us; and one night, as 
 late as at eleven o'clock, he accompanied the Major of the
 
 414 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 regiment in going what are styled the Rounds, where he 
 might observe the forms of visiting the guards, for the seeing 
 that they and their sentries are ready in their duty on their 
 several posts. He took occasion to converse at times on 
 military topicks, one in particular, that I see the mention of, 
 in your Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, which lies open 
 before me, as to gun-powder; which he spoke of to the same 
 effect, in part, that you relate. 
 
 'On one occasion, when the regiment were going through 
 their exercise, he went quite close to the men at one of the 
 extremities of it, and watched all their practices attentively; 
 and, when he came away, his remark was, "The men indeed 
 do load their muskets and fire with wonderful celerity." He 
 was likewise particular in requiring to know what was the 
 weight of the musquet balls in use, and within what distance 
 they might be expected to take effect when fired off. 
 
 'In walking among the tents, and observing the difference 
 between those of the officers and private men, he said that 
 the superiority of accommodation of the better conditions of 
 life, to that of the inferiour ones, was never exhibited to him. 
 in so distinct a view. The civilities paid to him in the camp 
 were, from the gentlemen of the Lincolnshire regiment, one 
 of the officers of which accommodated him with a tent in 
 which he slept; and from General Hall, who very cour- 
 teously invited him to dine with him, where he appeared to 
 be very well pleased with his entertainment, and the civilities 
 he received on the part of the General; the attention like- 
 wise, of the General's aide-de-camp, Captain Smith, seemed 
 to be very welcome to him, as appeared by their engaging in 
 a great deal of discourse together.' 
 
 We surely cannot but admire the benevolent exertions of 
 this great and good man, especially when we consider how 
 grievously he was afflicted with bad health, and how uncom- 
 fortable his home was made by the perpetual jarring of those 
 whom he charitably accommodated under his roof. He has 
 sometimes suffered me to talk jocularly of his group of 
 females, and call them his Seraglio. He thus mentions them, 
 together with honest Levett, in one of his letters to Mrs. 
 Thrale: 'Williams hates every body; Levett hates Desmou-
 
 1779] PART OF THE LIVES PUBLISHED 415 
 
 lins, and does not love Williams; Desmoulins hates them 
 both; Poll l loves none of them.' 2 
 
 In 1779, Johnson gave the world a luminous proof that the 
 vigour of his mind in all its faculties, whether memory, 
 judgement, or imagination, was not in the least abated; for 
 this year came out the first four volumes of his Prefaces, 
 biographical and critical, to the most eminent of the English 
 Poets, published by the booksellers of London. The re- 
 maining volumes came out in the year 1780. The Poets 
 were selected by the several booksellers who had the honor- 
 ary copy right, which is still preserved among them by 
 mutual compact, notwithstanding the decision of the House 
 of Lords against the perpetuity of Literary Property. We 
 have his own authority, that by his recommendation the 
 poems of Blackmore, Watts, Pomfret, and Yalden, were 
 added to the collection. 
 
 On the 22nd of January, I wrote to him on several topicks, 
 and mentioned that as he had been so good as to permit me 
 to have the proof sheets of his Lives of the Poets, I had written 
 to his servant" Francis, to take care of them for me. 
 
 On the 23rd of February I wrote to him again, complaining 
 of his silence, as I had heard he was ill, and had written to 
 Mr. Thrale, for information concerning him; and I an- 
 nounced my intention of soon being again in London. 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, Why should you take such delight to make 
 a bustle, to write to Mr. Thrale that I am negligent, and to 
 Francis to do what is so very unnecessary. Thrale, you may 
 be sure, cared not about it; and I shall spare Francis the 
 trouble, by ordering a set both of the Lives and Poets to 
 dear Mrs. Boswell, 3 in acknowledgement of her marmalade. 
 Persuade her to accept them, and accept them kindly. If 
 I thought she would receive them scornfully, I would send 
 
 1 Miss Carmichael. 
 
 2 A year later he wrote: 'At Bolt-court there is much malignity, 
 but of late little open hostility.' ED. 
 
 3 He sent a set elegantly bound and gilt, which was received as a very 
 handsome present. BOSWELL.
 
 416 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 11779 
 
 them to Miss Boswell, who, I hope, has yet none of her 
 
 mamma's ill-will to me. . . . 
 
 ' Mrs. Thrale waits in the coach. I am, dear Sir, &c., 
 'March 13, 1779.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 This letter crossed me on the road to London, where I 
 arrived on Monday, March 15, and next morning at a late 
 hour, found Dr. Johnson sitting over his tea, attended by 
 Mrs. Desmoulins, Mr. Levett, and a clergyman, who had 
 come to submit some poetical pieces to his revision. It is 
 wonderful what a number and variety of writers, some of 
 them even unknown to him, prevailed on his good-nature to 
 look over their works, and suggest corrections and improve- 
 ments. My arrival interrupted for a little while the impor- 
 tant business of this true representative of Bayes; upon its 
 being resumed, I found that the subject under immediate 
 consideration was a tanslation, yet in manuscript, of the 
 Carmen Seculare of Horace, which had this year been set to 
 musick, and performed as a publick entertainment in Lon- 
 don, for the joint benefit of Monsieur Philido'r and Signer 
 Baretti. When Johnson had done reading, the authour 
 asked him bluntly, 'If upon the whole it was a good trans- 
 lation?' Johnson, whose regard for truth was uncommonly 
 strict, seemed to be puzzled for a moment, what answer to 
 make; as he certainly could not honestly commend the per- 
 formance: with exquisite address he evaded the question 
 thus, ' Sir, I do not say that it may not be made a very good 
 translation.' Here nothing whatever in favour of the per- 
 formance was affirmed, and yet the writer was not shocked. 
 A printed Ode to the Warlike Genius of Britain, came next in 
 review; the bard was a lank bony figure, with short black 
 hair; he was writhing himself in agitation, while Johnson 
 read, and shewing his teeth in a grin of earnestness, exclaimed 
 in broken sentences, and in a keen sharp tone, 'Is that 
 poetry, Sir? Is it Pindar?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, there 
 is here a great deal of what is called poetry.' Then, turning 
 to me, the poet cried, ' My muse has not been long upon the 
 town, and (pointing to the Ode) it trembles under the hand 
 of the great critick.' Johnson, in a tone of displeasure, asked
 
 1779] VICAR OF WAKEFIELD 417 
 
 him, 'Why do you praise Anson?' I did not trouble him by 
 asking his reason for this question. He proceeded, 'Here 
 is an errour, Sir; you have made Genius feminine.' 'Pal- 
 pable, Sir; (cried the enthusiast,) I know it. But (in a lower 
 tone,) it was to pay a compliment to the Duchess of Devon- 
 shire, with which her Grace was pleased. She is walking 
 across Coxheath, in the military uniform, and I suppose 
 her to be the Genius of Britain.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you are 
 giving a reason for it; but that will not make it right. You 
 may have a reason why two and two should make five; but 
 they will still make but four.' 
 
 Although I was several times with him in the course of the 
 following days, such it seems were my occupations, or such 
 my negligence, that I have preserved no memorial of his 
 conversation till Friday, March 26, when I visited him. He 
 said he expected to be attacked on account of his Lives of the 
 Poets. 'However (said he,) I would rather be attacked than 
 unnoticed. For the worst thing you can do to an authour is 
 to be silent as to his works. An assault upon a town is a bad 
 thing; but starving it is still worse; an assault may be un- 
 successful; you may have more men killed than you kill; 
 but if you starve the town, you are sure of victory/ 
 
 Talking of a friend of ours associating with persons of very 
 discordant principles and characters; I said he was a very 
 universal man, quite a man of the world. JOHNSON. 'Yes, 
 Sir; but one may be so much a man of the world as to be 
 nothing in the world. I remember a passage in Goldsmith's 
 Vicar of Wakefield, which he was afterwards fool enough to 
 expunge: "I do not love a man who is zealous for nothing.'" 
 BOSWELL. 'That was a fine passage.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir: 
 there was another fine passage too, which he struck out: 
 "When I was a young man, being anxious to distinguish 
 myself, I was perpetually starting new propositions. But 
 I soon gave this over; for, I found that generally what was 
 new was false."' I said I did not like to sit with people of 
 whom I had not a good opinion. JOHNSON. 'But you 
 must not indulge your delicacy too much; or you will be a 
 iHe-a-tUe man all your life.' 
 
 During my stay in London this spring, I find I was unac-
 
 418 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1779 
 
 countably negligent in preserving Johnson's sayings, more 
 so than at any time when I was happy enough to have an 
 opportunity of hearing his wisdom and wit. There is no 
 help for it now. I must content myself with presenting such 
 scraps as I have. But I am nevertheless ashamed and 
 vexed to think how much has been lost. It is not that there 
 was a bad crop this year; but that I was not sufficiently 
 careful in gathering it in. I, therefore, in some instances 
 can only exhibit a few detached fragments. 
 
 Talking of the wonderful concealment of the authour of 
 the celebrated letters signed Junius ; he said, ' I should have 
 believed Burke to be Junius, because I know no man but 
 Burke who is capable of writing these letters; but Burke 
 spontaneously denied it to me. The case would have been 
 different had I asked him if he was the authour; a man so 
 questioned, as to an anonymous publication, may think he 
 has a right to deny it.' 
 
 On Wednesday, March 31, when I visited him, and con- 
 fessed an excess of which I had very seldom been guilty; 
 that I had spent a whole night in playing at cards, and that 
 I could not look back on it with satisfaction; instead of 
 a harsh animadversion, he mildly said, 'Alas, Sir, on how 
 few things can we look back with satisfaction.' 
 
 On Friday, April 2, being Good-Friday, I visited him in 
 the morning as usual; and finding that we insensibly fell 
 into a train of ridicule upon the foibles of one of our friends, 
 a very worthy man, I, by way of a check, quoted some good 
 admonition from The Government of the Tongue, that very 
 pious book. It happened also remarkably enough, that the 
 subject of the sermon preached to us to-day by Dr. Burrows, 
 the rector of St. Clement Danes, was the certainty that at 
 the last day we must give an account of 'the deeds done in 
 the body;' and, amongst various acts of culpability he 
 mentioned evil-speaking. As we were moving slowly along 
 in the crowd from church, Johnson jogged my elbow, and 
 said, 'Did you attend to the sermon?' 'Yes, Sir, (said I,) it 
 was very applicable to us:' He, however, stood upon the 
 defensive. ' Why, Sir, the sense of ridicule is given us, and 
 may be lawfully used. The authour of The Government of 
 the Tongue would have us treat all men alike.'
 
 1779] BRANDY FOR HEROES 419 
 
 In the interval between morning and evening service, he 
 endeavoured to employ himself earnestly in devotional ex- 
 ercises; and as he has mentioned in his Prayers and Medita- 
 tions, gave me Les Pensees de Paschal, that I might not 
 interrupt him. I preserve the book with reverence. His 
 presenting it to me is marked upon it with his own hand, and 
 I have found in it a truly divine unction. We went to 
 church again in the afternoon. 
 
 On Wednesday, April 7, I dined with him at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's. I have not marked what company was there. 
 Johnson harangued upon the qualities of different liquors; 
 and spoke with great contempt of claret, as so weak, that 
 'a man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk.' 
 He was persuaded to drink one glass of it, that he might 
 judge, not from recollection, which might be dim, but from 
 immediate sensation. He shook his head, and said, 'Poor 
 stuff! No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; 
 but he who aspires to be a hero (smiling), must drink brandy. 
 In the first place, the flavour of brandy is most grateful to 
 the palate; and then brandy will do soonest for a man what 
 drinking can do for him. There are, indeed, few who are 
 able to drink brandy. That is a power rather to be wished 
 for than attained. And yet, (proceeded he,) as in all pleasure 
 hope is a considerable part, I know not but fruition comes 
 too quick by brandy. Florence wine I think the worst; it 
 is wine only to the eye; it is wine neither while you are 
 drinking it, nor after you have drunk it; it neither pleases 
 the taste, nor exhilarates the spirits.' I reminded him how 
 heartily he and I used to drink wine together, when we were 
 first acquainted; and how I used to have a head-ache after 
 sitting up with him. He did not like to have this recalled, 
 or, perhaps, thinking that I boasted improperly, resolved to 
 have a witty stroke at me: 'Nay, Sir, it was not the wine 
 that made your head ache, but the sense that I put into it.' 
 BOSWELL. 'What, Sir! will sense make the head ache?' 
 JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, (with a smile,) when it is not used to 
 it.' No man who has a true relish of pleasantry could be 
 offended at this; especially if Johnson in a long intimacy 
 had given him repeated proofs of his regard and good estima- 
 tion. I used to say, that as he had given me a thousand
 
 420 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [m 
 
 pounds in praise, he had a good right now and then to take 
 a guinea from me. 
 
 On Thursday, April 8, I dined with him at Mr. Allan 
 Ramsay's, with Lord Graham and some other company. 
 We talked of Shakspeare's witches. JOHNSON. 'They are 
 beings of his own creation; they are a compound of malig- 
 nity and meanness, without any abilities; and are quite 
 different from the Italian magician. King James says in 
 his Dcemonology, 'Magicians command the devils: witches 
 are their servants. The Italian magicians are elegant beings.' 
 RAMSAY.- 'Opera witches, not Drury-lane witches.' John- 
 son observed, that abilities might be employed in a narrow 
 sphere, as in getting money, which he said he believed no 
 man could do, without vigorous parts, though concentrated 
 to a point. RAMSAY. 'Yes, like a strong horse in a mill; 
 he pulls better.' 
 
 Lord Graham, while he praised the beauty of Lochlomond, 
 on the banks of which is his family seat, complained of the 
 climate, and said he could not bear it. JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 my Lord, don't talk so: you may bear it well enough. Your 
 ancestors have borne it more years than I can tell/ This 
 was a handsome compliment to the antiquity of the House 
 of Montrose. His Lordship told me afterwards, that he had 
 only affected to complain of the climate; lest, if he had 
 spoken as favourably of his country as he really thought, 
 Dr. Johnson might have attacked it. Johnson was very 
 courteous to Lady Margaret Macdonald. ' Madam, (said he,) 
 when I was in the Isle of Sky, I heard of the people running 
 to take the stones off the road, lest Lady Margaret's horse 
 should stumble.' 
 
 Lord Graham commended Dr. Drummond at Naples, as 
 a man of extraordinary talents; and added, that he had a 
 great love of liberty. JOHNSON. 'He is young, my Lord; 
 (looking to his Lordship with an arch smile,) all boys love 
 liberty, till experience convinces them they are not so fit to 
 govern themselves as they imagined. We are all agreed as 
 to our own liberty; we would have as much of it as we can 
 get; but we are not agreed as to the liberty of others: for 
 in proportion as we take, others must lose. I believe we
 
 1779] ALTERCATION WITH BEAUCLERK 421 
 
 hardly wish that the mob should have liberty to govern us. 
 When that was the case some time ago, no man was at liberty 
 not to have candles in his windows.' RAMSAY. 'The result 
 is, that order is better than confusion.' JOHNSON. 'The 
 result is, that order cannot be had but by subordination.' 
 
 On Friday, April 16, I had been present at the trial of the 
 unfortunate Mr. Hackman, who, in a fit of frantick jealous 
 love, had shot Miss Ray, the favourite of a nobleman. 
 Johnson, in whose company I dined to-day with some other 
 friends, was much interested by my account of what passed, 
 and particularly with his prayer for the mercy of heaven. 
 He said, hi a solemn fervid tone, 'I hope he shall find 
 mercy.' 
 
 This day a violent altercation arose between Johnson and 
 Beauclerk, which having made much noise at the time, I 
 think it proper, in order to prevent any future misrepresen- 
 tation, to give a minute account of it. 
 
 In talking of Hackman, Johnson argued, as Judge Black- 
 stone had done, that his being furnished with two pistols 
 was a proof that he meant to shoot two persons. Mr. Beau- 
 clerk said, 'No; for that every wise man who intended to 
 shoot himself, took two pistols, that he might be sure of 
 
 doing it at once. Lord 's cook shot himself 
 
 with one pistol, and lived ten days in great agony. Mr. 
 
 , who loved buttered muffins, but durst not eat them 
 
 because they disagreed with his stomach, resolved to shoot 
 himself; and then he eat three buttered muffins for break- 
 fast, before shooting himself, knowing that he should not be 
 troubled with indigestion: he had two charged pistols; one 
 was found lying charged upon the table by him, after he had 
 shot himself with the other.' 'Well, (said Johnson, with an 
 air of triumph,) you see here one pistol was sufficient.' 
 Beauclerk replied smartly, 'Because it happened to kill him/ 
 And either then or a very little afterwards, being piqued at 
 Johnson's triumphant remark, added, 'This is what you 
 don't know, and I do.' There was then a cessation of the 
 dispute; and some minutes intervened, during which, dinner 
 and the glass went on cheerfully; when Johnson suddenly 
 and abruptly exclaimed, 'Mr. Beauclerk, how came you to
 
 422 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [m 
 
 talk so petulantly to me, as "This is what you don't know, 
 but what I know"? One thing / know, which you don't 
 seem to know, that you are very uncivil.' BEAUCLERK. 
 'Because you began by being uncivil, (which you always 
 are.)' The words in parenthesis were, I believe, not heard 
 by Dr. Johnson. Here again there was a cessation of arms. 
 Johnson told me, that the reason why he waited at first 
 some time without taking any notice of what Mr. Beauclerk 
 said, was because he was thinking whether he should resent 
 it. But when he considered that there were present a young 
 Lord and an eminent traveller, two men of the world with 
 whom he had never dined before, he was apprehensive that 
 they might think they had a right to take such liberties with 
 hmi as Beauclerk did, and therefore resolved he would not 
 let it pass; adding, that 'he would not appear a coward.' 
 A little while after this, the conversation turned on the 
 violence of Hackman's temper. Johnson then said, 'It was 
 his business to command his temper, as my friend, Mr. Beau- 
 clerk, should have done some time ago.' BEAUCLERK 'I 
 should learn of you, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have given 
 me opportunities enough of learning, when I have been in 
 your company. No man loves to be treated with contempt.' 
 BEAUCLERK. (with a polite inclination towards Johnson,) 
 'Sir, you have known me twenty years, and however I may 
 have treated others, you may be sure I could never treat 
 you with contempt.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have said more 
 than was necessary.' Thus it ended; and Beauclerk 's coach 
 not having come for him till very late, Dr. Johnson and 
 another gentleman sat with him a long time after the rest of 
 the company were gone; and he and I dined at Beauclerk 's 
 on the Saturday se'nnight following. 
 
 After this tempest had subsided, I recollect the following 
 particulars of his conversation: 
 
 'I am always for getting a boy forward in his learning; 
 for that is a sure good. I would let him at first read any 
 English book which happens to engage his attention; be- 
 cause you have done a great deal when you have brought him 
 to have entertainment from a book. He'll get better books 
 afterwards.'
 
 1779] GARRICK AND CHESTERFIELD 423 
 
 'To be contradicted, in order to force you to talk, is 
 mighty unpleasing. You shine, indeed; but it is by being 
 ground.' 
 
 On Saturday, April 24, I dined with him at Mr. Beau- 
 clerk's, with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Jones, (afterwards 
 Sir William,) Mr. Langton, Mr. Steevens, Mr. Paradise, and 
 Dr. Higgins. I mentioned that Mr. Wilkes had attacked 
 Garrick to me, as a man who had no friend. 'I believe he 
 is right, Sir. Ol <j>aot, ou <J>tXos He had friends, but no 
 friend. Garrick was so diffused, he had no man to whom 
 he wished to unbosom himself. He found people always 
 ready to applaud him, and that always for the same thing: 
 so he saw life with great uniformity.' I took upon me, for 
 once, to fight with Goliath's weapons, and play the sophist. 
 ' Garrick did not need a friend, as he got from every body 
 all he wanted. What is a friend? One who supports you 
 and comforts you, while others do not. Friendship, you 
 know, Sir, is the cordial drop, "to make the nauseous draught 
 of life go down:" but if the draught be not nauseous, if it be 
 all sweet, there is no occasion for that drop.' JOHNSON. 
 ' Many men would not be content to live so. I hope I should 
 not. They would wish to have an intimate friend, with 
 whom they might compare minds, and cherish private vir- 
 tues.' One of the company mentioned Lord Chesterfield, 
 as a man who had no friend. JOHNSON. ' There were more 
 materials to make friendship in Garrick, had he not been so 
 diffused.' BOSWELL. 'Garrick was pure gold, but beat 
 out to thin leaf. Lord Chesterfield was tinsel.' JOHNSON. 
 'Garrick was a very good man, the cheerfullest man of his 
 age; a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to give 
 indulgence to licentiousness; and a man who gave away, 
 freely, money acquired by himself. He began the world with 
 a great hunger for money; the son of a half -pay officer, bred 
 in a family, whose study was to make four-pence do as much 
 as others made four-pence halfpenny do. But, when he had 
 got money, he was very liberal.' I presumed to animadvert 
 on his eulogy on Garrick, in his Lives of the Poets. ' You say, 
 Sir, his death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' JOHNSON. 
 ' I could not have said more nor less. It is the truth ; eclipsed,
 
 424 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1779 
 
 not extinguished; and his death did eclipse; it was like a 
 storm.' BOSWELL. 'But why nations? Did his gaiety ex- 
 tend farther than his own nation?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, 
 some exaggeration must be allowed. Besides, nations may 
 be said if we allow the Scotch to be a nation, and to have 
 gaiety, which they have not. You are an exception, 
 though. Come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there 
 is one Scotchman who is cheerful.' BEAUCLERK. 'But he 
 is a very unnatural Scotchman.' I, however, continued to 
 think the compliment to Garrick hyperbolically untrue. His 
 acting had ceased some time before his death; at any rate 
 he had acted in Ireland but a short time, at an early period 
 of his life, and never in Scotland. I objected also to what 
 appears an anticlimax of praise, when contrasted with the 
 preceding panegyrick, 'and diminished the public stock of 
 harmless pleasure!' 'Is not harmless pleasure very tame?' 
 JOHNSON. ' Nay, Sir, harmless pleasure is the highest praise. 
 Pleasure is a word of dubious import; pleasure is in general 
 dangerous, and pernicious to virtue; to be able therefore to 
 furnish pleasure that is harmless, pleasure pure and un- 
 alloyed, is as great a power as man can possess.' This was, 
 perhaps, as ingenious a defence as could be made; still, how- 
 ever, I was not satisfied. 
 
 Talking of celebrated and successful irregular practisers in 
 physick; he said, 'Taylor was the most ignorant man I ever 
 knew; but sprightly. Ward the dullest. Taylor challenged 
 me once to talk Latin with him; (laughing). I quoted some 
 of Horace, which he took to be a part of my own speech. 
 He said a few words well enough.' BEAUCLERK. 'I re- 
 member, Sir, you said that Taylor was an instance how far 
 impudence could carry ignorance.' Mr. Beauclerk was very 
 entertaining this day, and told us a number of short stories 
 in a lively elegant manner, and with that air of the world 
 which has I know not what impressive effect, as if there were 
 something more than is expressed, or than perhaps we could 
 perfectly understand. As Johnson and I accompanied Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds in his coach, Johnson said, 'There is in 
 Beauclerk a predominance over his company, that one does 
 not like. But he is a man who has lived so much in the
 
 1779] JOHNSON AND LORD MARCHMONT 425 
 
 world, that he has a short story on every occasion; he is 
 always ready to talk, and is never exhausted.' 
 
 Soon after this time a little incident occurred, which I will 
 not suppress, because I am desirous that my work should be, 
 as much as is consistent with the strictest truth, an antidote 
 to the false and injurious notions of his character, which have 
 been given by others, and therefore I infuse every drop of 
 genuine sweetness into my biographical cup. 
 
 'To DR. JOHNSON. 
 
 'Mr DEAR SIR, I am in great pain with an inflamed 
 foot, and obliged to keep my bed, so am prevented from 
 having the pleasure to dine at Mr. Ramsay's to-day, which is 
 very hard; and my spirits are sadly sunk. Will you be so 
 friendly as to come and sit an hour with me in the evening. 
 I am ever your most faithful, and affectionate humble 
 servant, 
 
 'South Audley-street, 'JAMES BOSWELL.' 
 
 Monday, April 26.' 
 
 'To MR. BOSWELL. 
 
 'Mr. Johnson laments the absence of Mr. Boswell, and 
 will come to him. Harley-street.' 
 
 He came to me in the evening, and brought Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. I need scarcely say, that their conversation, 
 while they sate by my bedside, was the most pleasing opiate 
 to pain that could have been administered. 
 
 Johnson being now better disposed to obtain information 
 concerning Pope than he was last year, sent by me to my 
 Lord Marchmont a present of those volumes of his Lives of 
 the Poets which were at this time published, with a request to 
 have permission to wait on him; and his Lordship, who had 
 called on him twice, obligingly appointed Saturday, the first 
 of May, for receiving us. 
 
 On that morning Johnson came to me from Streatham, and 
 after drinking chocolate at General Paoli's, in South-Audley-
 
 426 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1779 
 
 street, we proceeded to Lord Marchmont's in Curzon-street. 
 His Lordship met us at the door of his library, and with 
 great politeness said to Johnson, ' I am not going to make an 
 encomium upon myself, by telling you the high respect I 
 have for you, Sir.' Johnson was exceedingly courteous; and 
 the interview, which lasted about two hours, during which 
 the Earl communicated his anecdotes of Pope, was as agree- 
 able as I could have wished. When we came out, I said to 
 Johnson, that considering his Lordship's civility, I should 
 have been vexed if he had again failed to come. 'Sir, (said 
 he,) I would rather have given twenty pounds than not have 
 come.' I accompanied him to Streatham, where we dined, 
 and returned to town in the evening. 
 
 He had, before I left London, resumed the conversation 
 concerning the appearance of a ghost at Newcastle upon 
 Tyne, which Mr. John Wesley believed, but to which John- 
 son did not give credit. I was, however, desirous to examine 
 the question closely, and at the same time wished to be 
 made acquainted with Mr. John Wesley; for though I 
 differed from him in some points, I admired his various 
 talents, and loved his pious zeal. At my request, therefore, 
 Dr. Johnson gave me a letter of introduction to him. 
 
 'To THE REVEREND MR. JOHN WESLEY. 
 
 'SiR, Mr. Boswell, a gentleman who has been long 
 known to me, is desirous of being known to you, and has 
 asked this recommendation, which I give him with great 
 willingness, because I think it very much to be wished that 
 worthy and religious men should be acquainted with each 
 other. I am, Sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 'May 3, 1779.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 Mr. Wesley being in the course of his ministry at Edin- 
 burgh, I presented this letter to him, and was very politely 
 received. I begged to have it returned to me, which was 
 accordingly done. His state of the evidence as to the ghost 
 did not satisfy me. 
 
 My readers will not be displeased at being told every
 
 1779] 'BREAKFAST IN SPLENDOUR' 427 
 
 slight circumstance of the manner in which Dr. Johnson 
 contrived to amuse his solitary hours. He sometimes em- 
 ployed himself in chymistry, sometimes in watering and 
 pruning a vine, sometimes in small experiments, at which 
 those who may smile, should recollect that there are moments 
 which admit of being soothed only by trifles. 1 
 
 My friend Colonel James Stuart, second son of the Earl 
 of Bute, who had distinguished himself as a good officer of 
 the Bedfordshire militia, had taken a publick-spirited reso- 
 lution to serve his country in its difficulties, by raising a 
 regular regiment, and taking the command of it himself. 
 This, in the heir of the immense property of Wortley, was 
 highly honourable. Having been in Scotland recruiting, 
 he obligingly asked me to accompany him to Leeds, then 
 the head-quarters of his corps; from thence to London for 
 a short time, and afterwards to other places to which the 
 regiment might be ordered. Such an offer, at a time of the 
 year when I had full leisure, was very pleasing; especially as 
 I was to accompany a man of sterling good sense, informa- 
 tion, discernment, and conviviality; and was to have a 
 second crop in one year of London and Johnson. Of this I 
 informed my illustrious friend, in characteristical warm terms, 
 in a letter dated the 30th of September, from Leeds. 
 
 On Monday, October 4, I called at his house before he 
 was up. He sent for me to his bedside, and expressed his 
 satisfaction at this incidental meeting, with as much vivacity 
 .as if he had been in the gaiety of youth. He called briskly, 
 'Frank, go and get coffee, and let us breakfast in splendour.' 
 
 On Sunday, October 10, we dined together at Mr. Stra- 
 han's. The conversation having turned on the prevailing 
 
 1 In one of his manuscript Diaries, there is the following entry, which 
 marks his curious minute attention: 'July 26, 1768. I shaved my nail 
 by accident in whetting the knife, about an eighth of an inch from the 
 bottom, and about a fourth from the top. This I measure that I may 
 know the growth of nails; the whole is about five eighths of an inch.' 
 
 Another of the same kind appears, 'Aug. 7, 1779, Partem brachii dex- 
 tri carpo prozimam et cutem pectoris circa mamillam dextram rasi, ut 
 notum fleret quanta temporis pili renovarentur .' 
 
 And, 'Aug. 15, 1773. I cut from the vine 41 leaves, which weighed 
 five oz. and a half, and eight scruples: I lay them upon my book- 
 case, to see what weight they will lose by drying.' BOSWELL.
 
 428 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON , [1779 
 
 practice of going to the East-Indies in quest of wealth; 
 JOHNSON. 'A man had better have ten thousand pounds at 
 the end of ten years passed in England, than twenty thou- 
 sand pounds at the end of ten years passed in India, because 
 you must compute what you give for money; and a man 
 who has lived ten years in India, has given up ten years 
 of social comfort and all those advantages which arise from 
 living in England. The ingenious Mr. Brown, distinguished 
 by the name of Capability Brown, told me, that he was once 
 at the seat of Lord Clive, who had returned from India with 
 great wealth; and that he shewed him at the door of his bed- 
 chamber a large chest, which he said he had once had full of 
 gold; upon which Brown observed, "I am glad you can 
 bear it so near your bed-chamber.'" 
 
 We talked of the state of the poor in London. JOHNSON. 
 'Saunders Welch, the Justice, who was once High-Constable 
 of Holborn, and had the best opportunities of knowing the 
 state of the poor, told me, that I under-rated the number, 
 when I computed that twenty a week, that is, above a 
 thousand a year, died of hunger; not absolutely of immediate 
 hunger; but of the wasting and other diseases which are the 
 consequences of hunger. This happens only in so large a 
 place as London, where people are not known. What we 
 are told about the great sums got by begging is not true: 
 the trade is overstocked. And, you may depend upon it, 
 there are many who cannot get work. A particular kind of 
 manufacture fails: those who have been used to work at 
 it, can, for some time, work at nothing else. You meet a 
 man begging; you charge him with idleness: he says, "I am 
 willing to labour. Will you give me work?" "I cannot." 
 "Why, then you have no right to charge me with idleness." ' 
 
 We left Mr. Strahan's at seven, as Johnson had said he 
 intended to go to evening prayers. As we walked along, 
 he complained of a little gout in his toe, and said, 'I shan't 
 go to prayers to-night; I shall go to-morrow: Whenever 
 I miss church on a Sunday, I resolve to go another day. 
 But I do not always do it.' This was a fair exhibition of 
 that vibration between pious resolutions and indolence, 
 which many of us have too often experienced.
 
 1779] SATISFACTION WITH THE DICTIONARY 429 
 
 I went home with him, and we had a long quiet conver- 
 sation. 
 
 BOSWELL. 'Why, Sir, do people play this trick which I 
 observe now, when I look at your grate, putting the shovel 
 against it to make the fire burn?' JOHNSON. 'They play 
 the trick, but it does not make the fire burn. There is a 
 better; (setting the poker perpendicularly up at right angles 
 with the grate.) In days of superstition they thought, as 
 it made a cross with the bars, it would drive away the witch.' 
 
 BOSWELL. 'By associating with you, Sir, I am always 
 getting an accession of wisdom. But perhaps a man, after 
 knowing his own character the limited strength of his own 
 mind, should not be desirous of having too much wisdom, 
 considering, quid valeant humeri, how little he can carry.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, be as wise as you can; let a man be aliis 
 loetus, sapiens sibi : 
 
 "Though pleas'd to see the dolphins play, 
 I mind my compass and my way." 
 
 You may be wise in your study in the morning, and gay in 
 company at a tavern in the evening. Every man is to take 
 care of his own wisdom and his own virtue, without minding 
 too much what others think.' 
 
 He said, 'Dodsley first mentioned to me the scheme of 
 an English Dictionary; but I had long thought of it.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'You did not know what you were undertaking.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I knew very well what I was under- 
 taking, and very well how to do it, and have done it very 
 well.' BOSWELL. 'An excellent climax! and it has availed 
 you. In your Preface you say, "What would it avail me in 
 this gloom of solitude?" You have been agreeably mis- 
 taken.' 
 
 In his Life of Milton he observes, 'I cannot but remark a 
 kind of respect, perhaps unconsciously, paid to this great 
 man by his biographers: every house in which he resided is 
 historically mentioned, as if it were an injury to neglect 
 naming any place that he honoured by his presence.' I 
 had, before I read this observation, been desirous of shew-
 
 430 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1779 
 
 ing that respect to Johnson, by various inquiries. Finding 
 him this evening in a very good humour, I prevailed on 
 him to give me an exact list of his places of residence, since 
 he entered the metropolis as an authour, which I subjoin 
 in a note. 1 
 
 On Tuesday, October 12, I dined with him at Mr. Ram- 
 say's, with Lord Newhaven, and some other company, none 
 of whom I recollect, but a beautiful Miss Graham, a rela- 
 tion of his Lordship's, who asked Dr. Johnson to hob or nob 
 with her. He was flattered by such pleasing attention, 
 and politely told her, he never drank wine; but if she would 
 drink a glass of water, he was much at her service. She 
 accepted. 'Oho, Sir ! (said Lord Newhaven,) you are caught.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Nay, I do not see how I am caught; but if I 
 am caught, I don't want to get free again. If I am caught, 
 I hope to be kept.' Then when the two glasses of water 
 were brought, smiling placidly to the young lady, he said, 
 'Madam, let us reciprocate.' 
 
 Lord Newhaven and Johnson carried on an argument for 
 some time, concerning the Middlesex election. Johnson said, 
 'Parliament may be considered as bound by law as a man 
 is bound where there is nobody to tie the knot. As it is 
 clear that the House of Commons may expel and expel again 
 and again, why not allow of the power to incapacitate for 
 that parliament, rather than have a perpetual contest kept 
 up between parliament and the people.' Lord Newhaven 
 took the opposite side; but respectfully said, 'I speak with 
 great deference to you, Dr. Johnson ; I speak to be instructed.' 
 This had its full effect on my friend. He bowed his head 
 almost as low as the table, to a complimenting nobleman; 
 and called out, 'My Lord, my Lord, I do not desire all this 
 ceremony; let us tell our minds to one another quietly.' 
 After the debate was over, he said, 'I have got lights on the 
 
 1 1. Exeter-street, off Catherine-street, Strand. 2. Greenwich. 3. 
 "Woodstock-street, near Hanover-square. 4. Castle-street, Cavendish- 
 square, No. 6. 5. Strand. 6. Boswell-Court. 7. Strand, again. 8. 
 Bow-street. 9. Holborn. 10. Fetter-lane. 11. Holborn, again. 12. 
 Gough-square. 13. Staple Inn. 14. Gray's Inn. 15. Inner Temple- 
 lane, No. 1. 16. Johnson's-court, No. 7. 17. Bolt-court, No. 8. 
 
 BOSWELL.
 
 1779] OPINION OF WHITEFIELD 431 
 
 subject to-day, which I had not before.' This was a great 
 deal from him, especially as he had written a pamphlet 
 upon it. 
 
 Of his fellow-collegian, the celebrated Mr. George White- 
 field, he said, 'Whitefield never drew as much attention as 
 a mountebank does; he did not draw attention by doing 
 better than others, but by doing what was strange. Were 
 Astley to preach a sermon standing upon his head on a, 
 horse's back, he would collect a multitude to hear him; but 
 no wise man would say he had made a better sermon for that. 
 I never treated Whitefield's ministry with contempt; I believe 
 he did good. He had devoted himself to the lower classes 
 of mankind, and among them he was of use. But when 
 familiarity and noise claim the praise due to knowledge, art, 
 and elegance, we must beat down such pretensions.' 
 
 What I have preserved of his conversation during the re- 
 mainder of my stay in London at this time, is only what 
 follows: I told him that when I objected to keeping com- 
 pany with a notorious infidel, a celebrated friend of ours 
 said to me, 'I do not think that men who live laxly in the 
 world, as you and I do, can with propriety assume such an 
 authority. Dr. Johnson may, who is uniformly exemplary 
 in his conduct. But it is not very consistent to shun an 
 infidel to-day, and get drunk to-morrow.' JOHNSON. 'Nay,, 
 Sir, this is sad reasoning. Because a man cannot be right- 
 in all things, is he to be right in nothing? Because a man 
 sometimes gets drunk, is he therefore to steal? This doc- 
 trine would very soon bring a man to the gallows.' 
 
 He, I know not why, shewed upon all occasions an aver- 
 sion to go to Ireland, where I proposed to him that we should 
 make a tour. JOHNSON. ' It is the last place where I should 
 wish to travel.' BOSWELL. 'Should you not like to see 
 Dublin, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir! Dublin is only a 
 worse capital.' BOSWELL. 'Is not the Giant 's-Causeway 
 worth seeing 1 ?' JOHNSON. 'Worth seeing? yes; but not 
 worth going to see.' 
 
 Yet he had a kindness for the Irish nation, and thus gen- 
 erously expressed himself to a gentleman from that country, 
 on the subject of an UNION which artful Politicians have
 
 432 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ 17 so 
 
 often had in view 'Do not make an union with us, Sir. 
 We should unite with you, only to rob you. We should 
 have robbed the Scotch, if they had had any thing of which 
 we could have robbed them.' 
 
 Of an acquaintance of ours, whose manners and every 
 thing about him, though expensive, were coarse, he said, 
 'Sir, you see in him vulgar prosperity.' 
 
 A foreign minister of no very high talents, who had been 
 in his company for a considerable time quite overlooked, 
 happened luckily to mention that he had read some of his 
 Rambler in Italian, and admired it much. This pleased him 
 greatly; he observed that the title had been translated, II 
 Genio errante, though I have been told it was rendered more 
 ludicrously, II Vagabondo; and finding that this minister 
 gave such a proof of his taste, he was all attention to him, 
 and on the first remark which he made, however simple, 
 exclaimed, 'The Ambassadour says well His Excellency 
 observes And then he expanded and enriched the little 
 that had been said, in so strong a manner, that it appeared 
 something of consequence. This was exceedingly enter- 
 taining to the company who were present, and many a time 
 afterwards it furnished a pleasant topick of merriment: 
 'The Ambassadour says well,' became a laughable term of 
 applause, when no mighty matter had been expressed. 
 
 I left London on Monday, October 18, and accompanied 
 Colonel Stuart to Chester, where his regiment was to lye 
 for some time. 
 
 1780: JETAT. 71.] IN 1780, the world was kept in im- 
 patience for the completion of his Lives of the Poets, upon 
 which he was employed so far as his indolence allowed him 
 to labour. 
 
 His friend Dr. Lawrence having now suffered the greatest 
 affliction to which a man is liable, and which Johnson him- 
 self had felt in the most severe manner; Johnson wrote to 
 him in an admirable strain of sympathy and pious consola- 
 tion.
 
 1780] THE DEATH OF MRS. LAWRENCE 433 
 
 'To DR. LAWRENCE. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, At a time when all your friends ought to 
 shew their kindness, and with a character which ought to 
 make all that know you your friends, you may wonder that 
 you have yet heard nothing from me. 
 
 ' I have been hindered by a vexatious and incessant cough, 
 for which within these ten days I have been bled once, 
 fasted four or five times, taken physick five times, and opi- 
 ates, I think, six. This day it seems to remit. 
 
 'The loss, dear Sir, which you have lately suffered, I felt 
 many years ago, and know therefore how much has been 
 taken from you, and how little help can be had from con- 
 solation. He that outlives a wife whom he has long loved, 
 sees himself disjoined from the only mind that has the same 
 hopes, and fears, and interest; from the only companion 
 with whom he has shared much good or evil ; and with whom 
 he could set his mind at liberty, to retrace the past or an- 
 ticipate the future. The continuity of being is lacerated; 
 the settled course of sentiment and action is stopped; and 
 life stands suspended and motionless, till it is driven by 
 external causes into a new channel. But the time of sus- 
 pense is dreadful. 
 
 'Our first recourse in this distressed solitude, is, perhaps 
 for want of habitual piety, to a gloomy acquiescence in 
 necessity. Of two mortal beings, one must lose the other; 
 but surely there is a higher and better comfort to be drawn 
 from the consideration of that Providence which watches 
 over all, and a belief that the living and the dead are equally 
 in the hands of GOD, who will reunite those whom he has 
 separated; or who sees that it is best not to reunite. I am, 
 dear Sir, your most affectionate, and most humble servant, 
 
 'January 20, 1780.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 On the 2nd of May I wrote to him, and requested that 
 we might have another meeting somewhere in the North 
 of England, in the autumn of this year. 
 
 From Mr. Langton I received soon after this time a letter,
 
 434 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mo 
 
 of which I extract a passage, relative both to Mr. Beauclerk 
 and Dr. Johnson. 
 
 'The melancholy information you have received concern- 
 ing Mr. Beauclerk's death is true. Had his talents been 
 directed in any sufficient degree as they ought, I have always 
 been strongly of opinion that they were calculated to make 
 an illustrious figure; and that opinion, as it had been in 
 part formed upon Dr. Johnson's judgment, receives more 
 and more confirmation by hearing what, since his death, 
 Dr. Johnson has said concerning them; a few evenings ago, 
 lie was at Mr. Vesey's, where Lord Althorpe, who was one 
 of a numerous company there, addressed Dr. Johnson on 
 the subject of Mr. Beauclerk's death, saying, "Our CLUB 
 has had a great loss since we met last." He replied, "A 
 loss, that perhaps the whole nation could not repair!" The 
 Doctor then went on to speak of his endowments, and par- 
 ticularly extolled the wonderful ease with which he uttered 
 what was highly excellent. He said, that "no man ever 
 was so free when he was going to say a good thing, from a 
 look that expressed that it was coming; or, when he had 
 said it, from a look that expressed that it had come." At 
 Mr. Thrale's, some days before when we were talking on the 
 same subject, he said, referring to the same idea of his won- 
 derful facility, "That Beauclerk's talents were those which 
 he had felt himself more disposed to envy, than those of any 
 whom he had known." 
 
 'On the evening I have spoken of above, at Mr. Vesey's, 
 you would have been much gratified, as it exhibited an in- 
 stance of the high importance in which Dr. Johnson's char- 
 acter is held, I think even beyond any I ever before was 
 witness to. The company consisted chiefly of ladies, among 
 whom were the Duchess Dowager of Portland, the Duchess 
 of Beaufort, whom I suppose from her rank I must name 
 before her mother Mrs. Boscawen, and her elder sister Mrs. 
 Lewson, who was likewise there; Lady Lucan, Lady Cler- 
 mont, and others of note both for their station and under- 
 standings. Among the gentlemen were Lord Althorpe, 
 whom I have before named, Lord Macartney, Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, Lord Lucan, Mr. Wraxal, whose book you have
 
 1780] APPEAL TO LORD THURLOW 435 
 
 probably seen, The Tour to the Northern Parts of Europe; a 
 very agreeable ingenious man; Dr. Warren, Mr. Pepys, the 
 Master in Chancery, whom I believe you know, and Dr. 
 Barnard, the Provost of Eton. As soon as Dr. Johnson was 
 come in and had taken a chair, the company began to col- 
 lect round him, till they became not less than four, if not 
 five, deep; those behind standing, and listening over the 
 heads of those that were sitting near him. The conversa- 
 tion for some time was chiefly between Dr. Johnson and the 
 Provost of Eton, while the others contributed occasionally 
 their remarks.' 
 
 On his birth-day, Johnson has this note: 'I am now begin- 
 ning the seventy-second year of my life, with more strength 
 of body, and greater vigour of mind, than I think is common 
 at that age.' But still he complains of sleepless nights and 
 idle days, and forgetfulness, or neglect of resolutions. He 
 thus pathetically expresses himself, 'Surely I shall not 
 spend my whole life with my own total disapprobation.' 
 
 Mr. Macbean, whom I have mentioned more than once, as 
 one of Johnson's humble friends, a deserving but unfortunate 
 man, being now oppressed by age and poverty, Johnson 
 solicited the Lord Chancellor Thurlow, to have him ad- 
 mitted into the Charterhouse. I take the liberty to insert 
 his Lordship's answer, as I am eager to embrace every oc- 
 casion of augmenting the respectable notion which should 
 ever be entertained of my illustrious friend: 
 
 'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. 
 
 'SiR, 'London, October 24, 1780. 
 
 'I have this moment received your letter, dated the 
 19th, and returned from Bath. 
 
 ' In the beginning of the summer I placed one in the Char- 
 treux, without the sanction of a recommendation so distinct 
 and so authoritative as yours of Macbean; and I am afraid, 
 that according to the establishment of the House, the oppor- 
 tunity of making the charity so good amends will not soon 
 recur. But whenever a vacancy shall happen, if you'll 
 favour me with notice of it, I will try to recommend him to
 
 436 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 the place, even though it should not be my turn to nominate. 
 I am, Sir, with great regard, your most faithful and obedient 
 servant, 'THURLOW.' 
 
 Being disappointed in my hopes of meeting Johnson this 
 year, so that I could hear 'none of his admirable sayings, 
 I shall compensate for this want by inserting a collection 
 of them, for which I am indebted to my worthy friend Mr. 
 Langton, whose kind communications have been separately 
 interwoven in many parts of this work. Very few articles 
 of this collection were committed to writing by himself, he 
 not having that habit; which he regrets, and which those 
 who know the numerous opportunities he had of gathering 
 the rich fruits of Johnsonian wit and wisdom, must ever re- 
 gret. I however found, in conversations with him, that a 
 good store of Johnsoniana was treasured in his mind; and I 
 compared it to Herculaneum, or some old Roman field, 
 which when dug, fully rewards the labour employed. The 
 authenticity of every article is unquestionable. For the ex- 
 pression, I, who wrote them down in his presence, am partly 
 answerable. 
 
 'There is nothing more likely to betray a man into ab- 
 surdity than condescension; when he seems to suppose his 
 understanding too powerful for his company.' 
 
 'Having asked Mr. Langton if his father and mother had 
 sat for their pictures, which he thought it right for each 
 generation of a family to do, and being told they had op- 
 posed it, he said, "Sir, among the anfractuosities of the 
 human mind, I know not if it may not be one, that there is 
 a superstitious reluctance to sit for a picture.'" 
 
 'John Gilbert Cooper related, that soon after the publica- 
 tion of his Dictionary, Garrick being asked by Johnson what 
 people said of it, told him, that among other animadver- 
 sions, it was objected that he cited authorities which were 
 beneath the dignity of such a work, and mentioned Richard- 
 son. "Nay, (said Johnson,) I have done worse than that: 
 I have cited thee, David."' 
 
 'When in good humour he would talk of his own writings 
 with a wonderful frankness and candour, and would even
 
 1780] IN THE GREEN ROOM 437 
 
 criticise them with the closest severity. One day, having 
 read over one of his Ramblers, Mr. Langton asked him, how 
 he liked that paper; he shook his head, and answered, "too 
 wordy." At another time, when one was reading his tragedy 
 of Irene to a company at a house in the country, he left the 
 room; and somebody having asked him the reason of this, 
 he replied, "Sir, I thought it had been better.'" 
 
 'He related, that he had once in a dream a contest of wit 
 with some other person, and that he was very much morti- 
 fied by imagining that his opponent had the better of him. 
 "Now, (said he,) one may mark here the effect of sleep in 
 weakening the power of reflection; for had not my judge- 
 ment failed me, I should have seen, that the wit of this 
 supposed antagonist, by whose superiority I felt myself 
 depressed, was as much furnished by me, as that which I 
 thought I had been uttering in my own character.'" 
 
 'Of Sir Joshua Reynolds, he said, "Sir, I know no man 
 who has passed through life with more observation than 
 Reynolds.'" 
 
 'He repeated to Mr. Langton, with great energy, in the 
 Greek, our SAVIOUR'S gracious expression concerning the 
 forgiveness of Mary Magdalen, 'H xt'ort? aou <*i<jwx as- icopeuou 
 eE? sfprjvTQv. "Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace." He 
 said, " the manner of this dismission is exceedingly affecting." ' 
 
 'Talking of the Farce of High Life below Stairs, he said, 
 "Here is a Farce, which is really very diverting when you 
 see it acted; and yet one may read it, and not know that 
 one has been reading any thing at all."' 
 
 ' He used at one time to go occasionally to the green room 
 of Drury-lane Theatre, where he was much regarded by the 
 players, and was very easy and facetious with them. He 
 had a very high opinion of Mrs. Olive's comick powers, and 
 conversed more with her than with any of them. He said, 
 "Clive, Sir, is a good thing to sit by; she always under- 
 stands what you say." And she said of him, "I love to sit 
 by Dr. Johnson; he always entertains me." One night, 
 when The Recruiting Officer was acted, he said to Mr. Hol- 
 land, who had been expressing an apprehension that Dr. 
 Johnson would disdain the works of Farquhar; "No, Sir,
 
 438 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 I think Farquhar a man whose writings have considerable 
 merit.'" 
 
 'His friend Garrick was so busy in conducting the drama, 
 that they could not have so much intercourse as Mr. Garrick 
 used to profess an anxious wish that there should be. There 
 might, indeed, be something in the contemptuous severity 
 as to the merit of acting, which his old preceptor nourished 
 in himself, that would mortify Garrick after the great ap- 
 plause which he received from the audience. For though 
 Johnson said of him, "Sir, a man who has a nation to admire 
 him every night, may well be expected to be somewhat 
 elated;" yet he would treat theatrical matters with a ludi- 
 crous slight. He mentioned one evening, "I met David 
 coming off the stage, drest in a woman's riding-hood, when 
 he acted in The Wonder ; I came full upon him, and I believe 
 he was not pleased.'" 
 
 'Once he asked Tom Davies, whom he saw drest in a fine 
 suit of clothes, "And what art thou to-night?" Tom an- 
 swered, "The Thane of Ross;" (which it will be recollected 
 is a very inconsiderable character.) "0 brave!" said 
 Johnson.' 
 
 'Of Mr. Longley, at Rochester, a gentleman of very con- 
 siderable learning, whom Dr. Johnson met there, he said, 
 "My heart warms towards him. I was surprised to find in 
 him such a nice acquaintance with the metre in the learned 
 languages; though I was somewhat mortified that I had it 
 not so much to myself, as I should have thought."' 
 
 'Talking of the minuteness with which people will record 
 the sayings of eminent persons, a story was told, that when 
 Pope was on a visit to Spence at Oxford, as they looked from 
 the window they saw a Gentleman Commoner, who was just 
 come in from riding, amusing himself with whipping at a 
 post. Pope took occasion to say, "That young gentleman 
 seems to have little to do." Mr. Beauclerk observed, " Then, 
 to be sure, Spence turned round and wrote that down;" and 
 went on to say to Dr. Johnson, "Pope, Sir, would have said 
 the same of you, if he had seen you distilling." JOHNSON. 
 "Sir, if Pope had told me of my distilling, I would have told 
 him of his grotto.'"
 
 1780] AFFECTION FOR BEAUCLERK 439 
 
 'He would allow no settled indulgence of idleness upon 
 principle, and always repelled every attempt to urge ex- 
 cuses for it. A friend one day suggested, that it was not 
 wholesome to study soon after dinner. JOHNSON. "Ah, 
 Sir, don't give way to such a fancy. At one time of my 
 life I had taken it into my head that it was not wholesome 
 to study between breakfast and dinner.'" 
 
 'Dr. Goldsmith, upon occasion of Mrs. Lennox's bringing 
 out a play, said to Dr. Johnson at THE CLUB, that a person 
 had advised him to go and hiss it, because she had attacked 
 Shakspeare in her book called Shakspeare Illustrated. JOHN- 
 SON. "And did not you tell him he was a rascal?" GOLD- 
 SMITH. "No, Sir, I did not. Perhaps he might not mean 
 what he said." JOHNSON. "Nay, Sir, if he lied, it is a 
 different thing." Colman slily said, (but it is believed Dr. 
 Johnson did not hear him,) "Then the proper expression 
 should have been, Sir, if you don't lie, you're a rascal."' 
 
 'His affection for Topham Beauclerk was so great, that 
 when Beauclerk was labouring under that severe illness 
 which at last occasioned his death, Johnson said, (with a 
 voice faultering with emotion,) "Sir, I would walk to the 
 extent of the diameter of the earth to save Beauclerk."' 
 
 'Johnson was well acquainted with Mr. Dossie, authour 
 of a treatise on Agriculture; and said of him, "Sir, of the 
 objects which the Society of Arts have chiefly in view, the 
 chymical effects of bodies operating upon other bodies, he 
 knows more than almost any man." Johnson, in order to 
 give Mr. Dossie his vote to be a member of this Society, 
 paid up an arrear which had run on for two years. On this 
 occasion he mentioned a circumstance as characteristick of 
 the Scotch. "One of that nation, (said he,) who had been 
 a candidate, against whom I had voted, came up to me with 
 a civil salutation. Now, Sir, this is their way. An English- 
 man would have stomached it, and been sulky, and never 
 have taken further notice of you; but a Scotchman, Sir, 
 though you vote nineteen times against him, will accost 
 you with equal complaisance after each time, and the twen- 
 tieth time, Sir, he will get your vote."' 
 
 'Talking on the subject of toleration, one day when some
 
 440 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mo 
 
 friends were with him in his study, he made his usual re- 
 mark, that the State has a right to regulate the religion of 
 the people, who are the children of the State. A clergy- 
 man having readily acquiesced in this, Johnson, who loved 
 discussion, observed, "But, Sir, you must go round to other 
 States than your own. You do not know what a Bramin 
 has to say for himself. In short, Sir, I have got no further 
 than this: Every man has a right to utter what he thinks 
 truth, and every other man has a right to knock him down 
 for it. Martyrdom is the test."' 
 
 'Goldsmith one day brought to THE CLUB a printed Ode, 
 which he, with others, had been hearing read by its authour 
 in a publick room at the rate of five shillings each for ad- 
 mission. One of the company having read it aloud, Dr. 
 Johnson said, "Bolder words and more timorous meaning, I 
 think never were brought together." 
 
 'Talking of Gray's Odes, he said, "They are forced plants 
 raised in a hot-bed; and they are poor plants; they are but 
 cucumbers after all." A gentleman present, who had been 
 running down Ode-writing in general, as a bad species of 
 poetry, unluckily said, "Had they been literally cucumbers, 
 they had been better things than Odes." "Yes, Sir, (said 
 Johnson,) for a hog."' 
 
 'It is very remarkable, that he retained in his memory 
 very slight and trivial, as well as important things. As an 
 instance of this, it seems that an inferiour domestick of the 
 Duke of Leeds had attempted to celebrate his Grace's mar- 
 riage in such homely rhimes as he could make; and. this 
 curious composition having been sung to Dr. Johnson he 
 got it by heart, and used to repeat it in a very pleasant 
 manner. Two of the stanzas were these: 
 
 "When the Duke of Leeds shall married be 
 To a fine young lady of high quality, 
 How happy will that gentlewoman be 
 In his Grace of Leeds's good company. 
 
 She shall have all that's fine and fair, 
 And the best of silk and satin shall wear; 
 And ride in a coach to take the air, 
 And have a house in St. James's-square."
 
 1780] CONTEMPT FOR FOREIGNERS 441 
 
 To hear a man, of the weight and dignity of Johnson, re- 
 peating such humble attempts at poetry, had a very amus- 
 ing effect. He, however, seriously observed of the last stanza 
 repeated by him, that it nearly comprized all the advantages 
 that wealth can give.' 
 
 'An eminent foreigner, when he was shewn the British 
 Museum, was very troublesome with many absurd inquiries. 
 "Now there, Sir, (said he,) is the difference between an 
 Englishman and a Frenchman. A Frenchman must be 
 always talking, whether he knows any thing of the matter 
 or not; an Englishman is content to say nothing, when he 
 has nothing to say." 
 
 'His unjust contempt for foreigners was, indeed, extreme. 
 One evening, at old Slaughter's coffee-house, when a number 
 of them were talking loud about little matters, he said, 
 "Does not this confirm old Meynell's observation For any 
 thing I see, foreigners are fools.'" 
 
 ' He said, that once, when he had a violent tooth-ache, a. 
 Frenchman accosted him thus: "Ah, Monsieur vous etudiez 
 trop."' 
 
 ' Colman, in a note on his translation of Terence, talking of 
 Shakspeare's learning, asks, "What says Farmer to this? 
 What says Johnson?" Upon this he observed, "Sir, let 
 Farmer answer for himself: / never engaged in this contro- 
 versy. I always said, Shakspeare had Latin enough to gram- 
 maticise his English.'" 
 
 'A clergyman, whom he characterised as one who loved to 
 say little oddities, was affecting one day, at a Bishop's table, 
 a sort of slyness and freedom not in character, and repeated, 
 as if part of The Old Man's Wish, a song by Dr. Walter Pope, 
 a verse bordering on licentiousness. Johnson rebuked him 
 in the finest manner, by first shewing him that he did not 
 know the passage he was aiming at, and thus humbling him: 
 "Sir, that is not the song: it is thus." And he gave it right. 
 Then looking stedfastly on him, "Sir, there is a part of that 
 song which I should wish to exemplify in my own life: 
 
 "May I govern Bay passions with absolute sway!'" 
 
 'He used frequently to observe, that men might be very 
 eminent in a profession, without our perceiving any particu-
 
 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1780 
 
 lar power of mind in them in conversation. "It seems 
 strange (said he,) that a man should see so far to the right, 
 who sees so short a way to the left. Burke is the only man 
 whose common conversation corresponds with the general 
 fame which he has in the world. Take up whatever topick 
 you please, he is ready to meet you.'" 
 
 'Mr. Langton, when a very young man, read Dodsley's 
 Cleone, a Tragedy, to him, not aware of his extreme impa- 
 tience to be read to. As it went on he turned his face to the 
 back of his chair, and put himself into various attitudes, 
 which marked his uneasiness. At the end of an act, how- 
 ever, he said, "Come let's have some more, let's go into the 
 slaughter-house again, Lanky. But I am afraid there is 
 more blood than brains." 
 
 'Snatches of reading (said he,) will not make a Bentley or 
 a Clarke. They are, however, in a certain degree advan- 
 tageous. I would put a child into a library (where no unfit 
 books are) and let him read at his choice. A child should 
 not be discouraged from reading any thing that he takes a 
 liking to, from a notion that it is above his reach. If that 
 be the case, the child will soon find it out and desist; if not, 
 he of course gains the instruction; which is so much the 
 more likely to come, from the inclination with which he takes 
 up the study.' 
 
 'A gentleman who introduced his brother to Dr. Johnson 
 was earnest to recommend him to the Doctor's notice, which 
 he did by saying, "When we have sat together some time, 
 you'll find my brother grow very entertaining." "Sir, (said 
 Johnson,) I can wait.'" 
 
 'In the latter part of his life, in order to satisfy himself 
 whether his mental faculties were impaired, he resolved 
 that he would try to learn a new language, and fixed upon 
 the Low Dutch, for that purpose, and this he continued till 
 he had read about one half of Thomas a Kempis; and find- 
 ing that there appeared no abatement of his power of ac- 
 quisition, he then desisted, as thinking the experiment had 
 been duly tried.' 
 
 'Mr. Langton and he having gone to see a Freemason's 
 funeral procession, when they were at Rochester, and some
 
 1780] SHAKSPEARE AND 'PANTING TIME-' 443 
 
 solemn musick being played on French horns, he said, "This 
 is the first time that I have ever been affected by musical 
 sounds;" adding, "that the impression made upon him was 
 of a melancholy kind." Mr. Langton saying, that this effect 
 was a fine one, JOHNSON. "Yes, if it softens the mind, so 
 as to prepare it for the reception of salutary feelings, it 
 may be good: but inasmuch as it is melancholy per se, it is 
 bad."' 
 
 'Goldsmith had long a visionary project, that some time 
 or other when his circumstances should be easier, he would 
 go to Aleppo, in order to acquire a knowledge as far as 
 might be of any arts peculiar to the East, and introduce 
 them into Britain. When this was talked of in Dr. Johnson's 
 company, he said, "Of all men Goldsmith is the most unfit 
 to go out upon such an inquiry; for he is utterly ignorant of 
 such arts as we already possess, and consequently could 
 not know what would be accessions to our present stock of 
 mechanical knowledge. Sir, he would bring home a grind- 
 ing barrow, which you see in every street in London, and 
 think that he had furnished a wonderful improvement.'" 
 
 'Greek, Sir, (said he,) is like lace; every man gets as much 
 of it as he can.' 
 
 'Johnson one day gave high praise to Dr. Bentley's verses 
 in Dodsley's Collection, which he recited with his usual en- 
 ergy. Dr. Adam Smith, who was present, observed in his 
 decisive professorial manner, "Very well Very well." 
 Johnson however added, "Yes, they are very well, Sir; but 
 you may observe in what manner they are well. They are 
 the forcible verses of a man of a strong mind, but not accus- 
 tomed to write verse; for there is some uncouthness in the 
 expression."' 
 
 ' Drinking tea one day at Garrick's with Mr. Langton, he 
 was questioned if he was not somewhat of a heretick as to 
 Shakspeare; said Garrick, " I doubt he is a little of an infidel." 
 "Sir, (said Johnson,) I will stand by the lines I have 
 written on Shakspeare in my Prologue at the opening of your 
 Theatre." Mr. Langton suggested, that in the line 
 
 "And panting Time toil'd after him in vain,"
 
 444 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON UTSO 
 
 Johnson might have had in his eye the passage in The Tem- 
 pest, where Prospero says of Miranda, 
 
 " She will outstrip all praise, 
 
 And make it halt behind her." 
 
 Johnson said nothing. Garrick then ventured to observe, 
 "I do not think that the happiest line in the praise of Shak- 
 speare." Johnson exclaimed (smiling,) "Prosaical rogues! 
 next time I write, I'll make both time and space pant."' 
 
 'It is well known that there was formerly a rude custom 
 for those who were sailing upon the Thames, to accost each 
 other as they passed, in the most abusive language they 
 could invent, generally, however, with as much satirical 
 humour as they were capable of producing. Addison gives 
 a specimen of this ribaldry, in Number 383 of The Spectator, 
 when Sir Roger de Coverly and he are going to Spring-garden. 
 Johnson was once eminently successful in this species of con- 
 test; a fellow having attacked him with some coarse raillery, 
 Johnson answered him thus, "Sir, your wife, under pretence 
 of keeping a bawdy-house, is a receiver of stolen goods." One 
 evening when he and Mr. Burke and Mr. Langton were in 
 company together, and the admirable scolding of Timon of 
 Athens was mentioned, this instance of Johnson's was 
 quoted, and thought to have at least equal excellence.' 
 
 'As Johnson always allowed the extraordinary talents of 
 Mr. Burke, so Mr. Burke was fully sensible of the wonderful 
 powers of Johnson. Mr. Langton recollects having passed 
 an evening with both of them, when Mr. Burke repeatedly 
 entered upon topicks which it was evident he would have 
 illustrated with extensive knowledge and richness of ex- 
 pression; but Johnson always seized upon the conversation, 
 in which, however, he acquitted himself in a most masterly 
 manner. As Mr. Burke and Mr. Langton were walking 
 home, Mr. Burke observed that Johnson had been very great 
 that night; Mr. Langton joined in this, but added, he could 
 have wished to hear more from another person; (plainly 
 intimating that he meant Mr. Burke.) "0, no (said Mr. 
 Burke,) it is enough for me to have rung the bell to him."'
 
 1780] RICHARDSON'S CONVERSATION 445 
 
 'Beauclerk having observed to him of one of their friends, 
 that he was aukward at counting money, "Why, Sir, (said 
 Johnson,) I am likewise aukward at counting money. But 
 then, Sir, the reason is plain; I have had very little money 
 to count.'" 
 
 'Goldsmith, upon being visited by Johnson one day in the 
 Temple, said to him with a little jealousy of the appearance 
 of his accommodation, "I shall soon be in better chambers 
 than these." Johnson at the same time checked him and 
 paid him a handsome compliment, implying that a man of 
 his talents should be above attention to such distinctions, 
 "Nay, Sir, never mind that. Nil te quaesiveris extra."' 
 
 ' When Mr. Vesey was proposed as a member of THE LITE- 
 RARY CLUB, Mr. Burke began by saying that he was a man 
 of gentle manners. "Sir, (said Johnson,) you need say no 
 more. When you have said a man of gentle manners; you 
 have said enough."' 
 
 ' The late Mr. Fitzherbert told Mr. Langton that Johnson 
 said to him, "Sir, a man has no more right to say an uncivil 
 thing, than to act one; no more right to say a rude thing to 
 another than to knock him down.'" 
 
 ' Richardson had little conversation, except about his own 
 works, of which Sir Joshua Reynolds said he was always 
 willing to talk, and glad to have them introduced. Johnson 
 when he carried Mr. Langton to see him, professed that he 
 could bring him out into conversation, and used this allusive 
 expression, "Sir, I can make him rear." But he failed; for 
 in that interview Richardson said little else than that there 
 lay in the room a translation of his Clarissa into German.' 
 
 'Once when somebody produced a newspaper in which 
 there was a letter of stupid abuse of Sir Joshua Reynolds, of 
 which Johnson himself came in for a share, "Pray," said 
 he, "let us have it read aloud from beginning to end;" which 
 being done, he with a ludicrous earnestness, and not directing 
 his look to any particular person, called out, "Are we alive 
 after all this satire ! " ' 
 
 'Of Dr. Goldsmith he said, "No man was more foolish, 
 when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he 
 had.'"
 
 446 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mo 
 
 'An observation of Bathurst's may be mentioned, which 
 Johnson repeated, appearing to acknowledge it to be well 
 founded, namely, it was somewhat remarkable how seldom, 
 on occasion of coming into the company of any new person, 
 one felt any wish or inclination to see him again.' 
 
 1781: .<ETAT. 72.] IN 1781 Johnson at last completed his 
 Lives of the Poets, of which he gives this account: 'Some 
 time in March I finished the Lives of the Poets, which I wrote 
 in my usual way, dilatorily and hastily, unwilling to work, 
 and working with vigour and haste.' In a memorandum 
 previous to this, he says of them: 'Written, I hope, in such 
 a manner as may tend to the promotion of piety.' 
 
 The booksellers, justly sensible of the great additional 
 value of the copy-right, presented him with another hundred 
 pounds, over and above two hundred, for which his agree- 
 ment was to furnish such prefaces as he thought fit. 
 
 As he was so good as to make me a present of the greatest 
 part of the original and indeed only manuscript of this ad- 
 mirable work, I have an opportunity of observing with won- 
 der, the correctness with which he rapidly struck off such 
 glowing composition. 
 
 The Life of COWLEY he himself considered as the best of 
 the whole, on account of the dissertation which it contains 
 on the Metaphysical Poets. 
 
 While the world in general was filled with admiration of 
 Johnson's Lives of the Poets, there were narrow circles in 
 which prejudice and resentment were fostered, and from 
 which attacks of different sorts issued against him. By 
 some violent Whigs he was arraigned of injustice to Milton; 
 by some Cambridge men of depreciating Gray; and his ex- 
 pressing with a dignified freedom what he really thought of 
 George, Lord Lyttelton, gave offence to some of the friends 
 of that nobleman, and particularly produced a declaration 
 of war against him from Mrs. Montagu, the ingenious Essay- 
 ist on Shakspeare, between whom and his Lordship a com- 
 merce of reciprocal compliments had long been carried on. 
 In this war the smaller powers in alliance with him were of 
 course led to engage, at least on the defensive, and thus I 
 for one was excluded from the enjoyment of 'A Feast of
 
 1781] LIBERTY AND NECESSITY 447 
 
 Reason/ such as Mr. Cumberland has described, with a 
 keen, yet just and delicate pen, in his Observer. These 
 minute inconveniences gave not the least disturbance to 
 Johnson. He nobly said, when I talked to him of the feeble, 
 though shrill outcry which had been raised, ' Sir, I considered 
 myself as entrusted with a certain portion of truth. I have 
 given my opinion sincerely; let them shew where they think 
 me wrong.' 
 
 I wrote to him in February, complaining of having been 
 troubled by a recurrence of the perplexing question 6f 
 Liberty and Necessity; and mentioning that I hoped soon 
 to meet him again in London. 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 ' DEAR SIR, I hoped you had got rid of all this hypocrisy 
 of misery. What have you to do with Liberty and Neces- 
 sity? Or what more than to hold your tongue about it? 
 Do not doubt but I shall be most heartily glad to see you 
 here again, for I love every part about you but your affecta- 
 tion of distress. 
 
 ' I have at last finished my Lives, and have laid up for you 
 a load of copy, all out of order, so that it will amuse you a 
 long time to set it right. Come to me, my dear Bozzy, and 
 let us be as happy as we can. We will go again to the 
 Mitre, and talk old times over. I am, dear Sir, yours affec- 
 tionately, :',-fJ 
 
 'March 14, 1781.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 On Monday, March 19, I arrived in London, and on Tues- 
 day, the 20th, met him in Fleet-street, walking, or rather 
 indeed moving along; for his peculiar march is thus de- 
 scribed in a very just and picturesque manner, in a short 
 Life of him published very soon after his death: 'When he 
 walked the streets, what with the constant roll of his head, 
 and the concomitant motion of his body, he appeared to 
 make his way by that motion, independent of his feet.' 
 That he was often much stared at while he advanced in this 
 manner, may easily be believed; but it was not safe to make
 
 448 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1781 
 
 sport of one so robust as he was. Mr. Langton saw him one 
 day, in a fit of absence, by a sudden start, drive the load off 
 a porter's back, and walk forward briskly, without being 
 conscious of what he had done. The porter was very angry, 
 but stood still, and eyed the huge figure with much earnest- 
 ness, till he was satisfied that his wisest course was to be 
 quiet, and take up his burthen again. 
 
 Our accidental meeting in the street after a long separa- 
 tion was a pleasing surprize to us both. He stepped aside 
 with me into Falcon-court, and made kind inquiries about 
 my family, and as we were in a hurry going different ways, 
 I promised to call on him next day; he said he was engaged 
 to go out in the morning. 'Early, Sir?' said I. JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, a London morning does not go with the sun.' 
 
 I waited on him next evening, and he gave me a great por- 
 tion of his original manuscript of his Lives of the Poets, which 
 he had preserved for me. 
 
 I found on visiting his friend, Mr. Thrale, that he was now 
 very ill, and had removed, I suppose by the solicitation of 
 Mrs. Thrale, to a house in Grosvenor-square. I was sorry to 
 see him sadly changed in his appearance. 
 
 He told me I might now have the pleasure to see Dr. 
 Johnson drink wine again, for he had lately returned to it. 
 When I mentioned this to Johnson, he said, 'I drink it now 
 sometimes, but not socially.' The first evening that I was 
 with him at Thrale's, I observed he poured a large quantity 
 of it into a glass, and swallowed it greedily. Every thing 
 about his character and manners was forcible and violent; 
 there never was any moderation; many a day did he fast, 
 many a year did he refrain from wine; but when he did eat, 
 it was voraciously; when he did drink wine, it was copiously. 
 He could practise abstinence, but not temperance. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale and I had a dispute, whether Shakspeare or 
 Milton had drawn the most admirable picture of a man. 1 
 I was for Shakspeare; Mrs. Thrale for Milton; and after 
 a fair hearing, Johnson decided for my opinion. 
 
 1 The passages considered, according to Boswell's note, were the 
 portrait of Hamlet's father (Ham. 3. 4. 55-62), and the portrait of 
 Adam (P. L. 4. 300-303). ED.
 
 1781] REVERENCE FOR THE HIERARCHY 449 
 
 I told him of one of Mr. Burke's playful sallies upon Dean 
 Marlay: 'I don't like the Deanery of Ferns, it sounds so 
 like a barren, title.' 'Dr. Heath should have it;' said I. 
 Johnson laughed, and condescending to trifle in the same mode 
 of conceit, suggested Dr. Moss. 
 
 He said, 'Mrs. Montagu has dropt me. Now, Sir, there 
 are people whom one should like very well to drop, but would 
 not wish to be dropped by.' He certainly was vain of the 
 society of ladies, and could make himself very agreeable to 
 them, when he chose it; Sir Joshua Reynolds agreed with 
 me that he could. Mr. Gibbon, with his usual sneer, contro- 
 verted it, perhaps in resentment of Johnson's having talked 
 with some disgust of his ugliness, which one would think a 
 philosopher would not mind. Dean Marlay wittily observed, 
 'A lady may be vain, when she can turn a wolf-dog into a 
 lap-dog.' 
 
 His notion of the duty of a member of Parliament, sitting 
 upon an election-committee, was very high; and when he 
 was told of a gentleman upon one of those committees, who 
 read the newspapers part of the time, and slept the rest, 
 while the merits of a vote were examined by the counsel; 
 and as an excuse, when challenged by the chairman for such 
 behaviour, bluntly answered, ' I had made up my mind upon 
 that case.' Johnson, with an indignant contempt, said, 'If 
 he was such a rogue as to make up his mind upon a case 
 without hearing it, he should not have been such a fool as 
 to tell it.' 'I think (said Mr. Dudley Long, now North,) the 
 Doctor has pretty plainly made him out to be both rogue 
 and fool.' 
 
 Johnson's profound reverence for the Hierarchy made him 
 expect from bishops the highest degree of decorum; he was 
 offended even at their going to taverns; 'A bishop (said he,) 
 has nothing to do at a tippling-house. It is not indeed im- 
 moral in him to go to a tavern; neither would it be immoral 
 in him to whip a top in Grosvenor-square. But, if he did, 
 I hope the boys would fall upon him, and apply the whip to 
 him. There are gradations in conduct; there is morality, 
 decency, propriety. None of these should be violated by 
 a bishop. A bishop should not go to a house where he may
 
 450 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [i78i 
 
 meet a young fellow leading out a wench.' BOSWELL. 'But, 
 Sir, every tavern does not admit women.' JOHNSON. 'De- 
 pend upon it, Sir, any tavern will admit a well-drest man 
 and a well-drest woman; they will not perhaps admit a 
 woman whom they see every night walking by their door, in 
 the street. But a well-drest man may lead in a well-drest 
 woman to any tavern in London. Taverns sell meat and 
 drink, and will sell them to any body who can eat and can 
 drink. You may as well say that a mercer will not sell silks 
 to a woman of the town.' 
 
 He also disapproved of bishops going to routs, at least of 
 their staying at them longer than their presence commanded 
 respect. He mentioned a particular bishop. 'Poh! (said 
 
 Mrs. Thrale,) the Bishop of is never minded at a 
 
 rout.' BOSWELL. ' When a bishop places himself in a situa- 
 tion where he has no distinct character, and is of no con- 
 sequence, he degrades the dignity of his order.' JOHNSON. 
 ' Mr. Boswell, Madam, has said it as correctly as it could be.' 
 
 Johnson and his friend, Beauclerk, were once together in 
 company with several clergymen, who thought that they 
 should appear to advantage, by assuming the lax jollity of 
 men of the world; which, as it may be observed in similar 
 cases, they carried to noisy excess. Johnson, who they ex- 
 pected would be entertained, sat grave and silent for some 
 time; at last, turning to Beauclerk, he said, by no means in 
 a whisper, 'This merriment of parsons is mighty offensive.' 
 
 On Friday, March 30, I dined with him at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds 's, with the Earl of Charlemont, Sir Annesley 
 Stewart, Mr. Eliot of Port-Eliot, Mr. Burke, Dean Marlay, 
 Mr. Langton; a most agreeable day, of which I regret that 
 every circumstance is not preserved; but it is unreasonable 
 to require such a multiplication of felicity. 
 
 Mr. Eliot mentioned a curious liquor peculiar to his 
 country, which the Cornish fishermen drink. They call it 
 Mahogany ; and it is made of two parts gin, and one part 
 treacle, well beaten together. I begged to have some of it 
 made, which was done with proper skill by Mr. Eliot. I 
 thought it very good liquor; and said it was a counterpart 
 of what is called Athol Porridge in the Highlands of Scotland,
 
 1781] JOHNSON AND DANCING 451 
 
 which is a mixture of whisky and honey. Johnson said, 
 'that must be a better liquor than the Cornish, for both its 
 component parts are better.' He also observed, 'Mahogany 
 must be a modern name; for it is not long since the wood 
 called mahogany was known in this country.' I mentioned 
 his seals of liquors; claret for boys, port for men, brandy 
 for heroes. 'Then (said Mr. Burke,) let me have claret: 
 I love to be a boy; to have the careless gaiety of boyish 
 days.' JOHNSON. 'I should drink claret too, if it would 
 give me that; but it does not: it neither makes boys men, 
 nor men boys. You'll be drowned by it, before it has any 
 effect upon you.' 
 
 I ventured to mention a ludicrous paragraph in the news- 
 papers, that Dr. Johnson was learning to dance of Vestris. 
 Lord Charlemont, wishing to excite him to talk, proposed ia 
 a whisper, that he should be asked, whether it was true. 
 'Shall I ask him?' said his Lordship. We were, by a great 
 majority, clear for the experiment. Upon which his Lord- 
 ship very gravely, and with a courteous air said, 'Pray, Sir, 
 is it true that you are taking lessons of Vestris ? ' This was 
 risking a good deal, and required the boldness of a General 
 of Irish Volunteers to make the attempt. Johnson was at 
 first startled, and in some heat answered, 'How can your 
 Lordship ask so simple a question?' But immediately re- 
 covering himself, whether from unwillingness to be deceived, 
 or to appear deceived, or whether from real good humour, 
 he kept up the joke: 'Nay, but if any body were to answer 
 the paragraph, and contradict it, I'd have a reply, and would 
 say, that he who contradicted it was no friend either to 
 Vestris or me. For why should not Dr. Johnson add to his 
 other powers a little corporeal agility? Socrates learnt to 
 dance at an advanced age, and Cato learnt Greek at an ad- 
 vanced age. Then it might proceed to say, that this John- 
 son, not content with dancing on the ground, might dance 
 on the rope; and they might introduce the elephant danc- 
 ing on the rope.' 
 
 On Sunday, April 1, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, 
 with Sir Philip Jennings Clerk and Mr. Perkins, who had 
 the superintendence of Mr. Thrale's brewery, with a salary
 
 452 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mi 
 
 of five hundred pounds a year. Sir Philip had the appear- 
 ance of a gentleman of ancient family, well advanced in life. 
 He wore his own white hair in a bag of goodly size, a black 
 velvet coat, with an embroidered waistcoat, and very rich 
 laced ruffles; which Mrs. Thrale said were old fashioned, but 
 which, for that reason, I thought the more respectable, more 
 like a Tory; yet Sir Philip was then in Opposition in Parlia- 
 ment. 'Ah, Sir, (said Johnson,) ancient ruffles and modern 
 principles do not agree.' Sir Philip defended the Opposition 
 to the American war ably and with temper, and I joined 
 him. He said, the majority of the nation was against the 
 ministry. JOHNSON. '/, Sir, am against the ministry; but 
 it is for having too little of that, of which Opposition thinks 
 they have too much. Were I minister, if any man wagged 
 his finger against me, he should be turned out; for that 
 which it is in the power of Government to give at pleasure 
 to one or to another, should be given to the supporters of 
 Government. If you will not oppose at the expence of 
 losing your place, your opposition will not be honest, you 
 will feel no serious grievance; and the present opposition is 
 only a contest to get what others have. Sir Robert Walpole 
 acted as I would do. As to the American war, the sense of 
 the nation is with the ministry. The majority of those who 
 an understand is with it; the majority of those who can 
 only hear, is against it; and as those who can only hear are 
 more numerous than those who can understand, and Opposi- 
 tion is always loudest, a majority of the rabble will be for 
 Opposition.' 
 
 This boisterous vivacity entertained us ; but the truth in 
 my opinion was, that those who could understand the best 
 were against the American war, as almost every man now is, 
 when the question has been coolly considered. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale gave high praise to Mr. Dudley Long, (now 
 North). JOHNSON. 'Nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. 
 Mr. Long's character is very short. It is nothing. He fills 
 a chair. He is a man of genteel appearance, and that is all. 
 I know nobody who blasts by praise as you do: for when- 
 ever there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against 
 a character. They are provoked to attack it. Now there
 
 1781] EXAGGERATED PRAISE 453 
 
 is Pepys; you praised that man with such disproportion, 
 that I was incited to lessen him, perhaps more than he de- 
 serves. His blood is upon your head. By the same prin- 
 ciple, your malice defeats itself; for your censure is too 
 violent. And yet, (looking to her with a leering smile,) she 
 is the first woman in the world, could she but restrain that 
 wicked tongue of hers; she would be the only woman, could 
 she but command that little whirligig.' 
 
 Upon the subject of exaggerated praise I took the liberty 
 to say, that I thought there might be very high praise given 
 to a known character which deserved it, and therefore it 
 would not be exaggerated. Thus, one might say of Mr. 
 Edmund Burke, He is a very wonderful man. JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir, you would not be safe if another man had a mind 
 perversely to contradict. He might answer, "Where is all 
 the wonder? Burke is, to be sure, a man of uncommon 
 abilities, with a great quantity of matter in his mind, and 
 a great fluency of language in his mouth. But we are not to 
 be stunned and astonished by him." So you see, Sir, even 
 Burke would suffer, not from any fault of his own, but from 
 your folly.' 
 
 Mrs. Thrale mentioned a gentleman who had acquired a 
 fortune of four thousand a year in trade, but was absolutely 
 miserable, because he could not talk in company; so miser- 
 able, that he was impelled to lament his situation in the 
 street to ******, whom he hates, and who he knows despises 
 him. 'I am a most unhappy man, (said he). I am invited 
 to conversations. I go to conversations; but, alas! I have 
 no conversation.' JOHNSON. 'Man commonly cannot be 
 successful in different ways. This gentleman has spent, in 
 getting four thousand pounds a year, the time in which he 
 might have learnt to talk; and now he cannot talk.' Mr. 
 Perkins made a shrewd and droll remark: 'If he had got his 
 four thousand a year as a mountebank, he might have learnt 
 to talk at the same time that he was getting his fortune.' 
 
 Some other gentlemen came in. The conversation con- 
 cerning the person whose character Dr. Johnson had treated 
 so slightingly, as he did not know his merit, was resumed. 
 Mrs. Thrale said, 'You think so of him, Sir, because he is
 
 454 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mi 
 
 quiet, and does not exert himself with force. You'll be say- 
 ing the same thing of Mr. ***** there, who sits as quiet / 
 This was not well-bred; and Johnson did not let it pass 
 without correction. 'Nay, Madam, what right have you 
 to talk thus? Both Mr. ***** and I have reason to take it 
 ill. You may talk so of Mr. *****; but why do you make 
 we do it? Have I said anything against Mr. *****? You 
 have set him, that I might shoot him: but I have not shot 
 him.' 
 
 One of the gentlemen said, he had seen three folio volumes 
 of Dr. Johnson's sayings collected by me. 'I must put you 
 right, Sir, (said I,) for I am very exact in authenticity. You 
 could not see folio volumes, for I have none: you might 
 have seen some in quarto and octavo. This is inattention 
 which one should guard against.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is a 
 want of concern about veracity. He does not know that he 
 saw any volumes. If he had seen them he could have re- 
 membered their size.' 
 
 Mr. Thrale appeared very lethargick to-day* I saw him 
 again on Monday evening, at which time he was not thought 
 to be in immediate danger; but early in the morning of 
 Wednesday, the 4th, he expired. Johnson was in the house, 
 and thus mentions the event : ' I felt Almost the last flutter 
 of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that 
 for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with 
 respect and benignity.' Upon that day there was a Call of 
 THE LITERARY CLUB; but Johnson apologised for his ab- 
 sence by the following note: 
 
 'MR. JOHNSON knows that Sir Joshua Reynolds and the 
 other gentlemen will excuse his incompliance with the call, 
 when they are told that Mr. Thrale died this morning. 
 Wednesday.' 
 
 Mr. Thrale's death was a very essential loss to Johnson, 
 who, although he did not foresee all that afterwards hap- 
 pened, was sufficiently convinced that the comforts which 
 Mr. Thrale's family afforded him, would now in a great 
 measure cease. He, however, continued to shew a kind 
 attention to his widow and children as long as it was accept- 
 able; and he took upon him, with a very earnest concern, 
 the office of one of his executors the importance of which
 
 1781] JOHNSON AN EXECUTOR 455 
 
 seemed greater than usual to him, from his circumstances 
 having been always such, that he had scarcely any share in 
 the real business of life. His friends of THE CLUB were in 
 hopes that Mr. Thrale might have made a liberal provision 
 for him for his life, which, as Mr. Thrale left no son, and a 
 very large fortune, it would have been highly to his honour 
 to have done; and, considering Dr. Johnson's age, could not 
 have been of long duration; but he bequeathed him only 
 two hundred pounds, which was the legacy given to each of 
 his executors. I could not but be somewhat diverted by 
 hearing Johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, 
 and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was 
 at last resolved should be sold. Lord Lucan tells a very 
 good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly charac- 
 teristical: that when the sale of Thrale 's brewery was going 
 forward, Johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn 
 and pen in his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being 
 asked what he really considered to be the value of the prop- 
 erty which was to be disposed of, answered, 'We are not 
 here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality 
 of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice.' 
 
 On Friday, April 6, he carried me to dine at a club, which, 
 at his desire, had been lately formed at the Queen's Arms, in 
 St. Paul's Church-yard. He told Mr. Hoole, that he wished 
 to have a City Club, and asked him to collect one; but, said 
 he, 'Don't let them be patriots.' The company were to-day 
 very sensible, well-behaved men. 
 
 On Friday, April 13, being Good-Friday, I went to St. 
 Clement's church with him as usual. There I saw again his 
 old fellow-collegian, Edwards, to whom I said, 'I think, Sir, 
 Dr. Johnson and you meet only at Church.' 'Sir, (said he,) 
 it is the best place we can meet in, except Heaven, and I 
 hope we shall meet there too.' Dr. Johnson told me, that 
 there was very little communication between Edwards and 
 him, after their unexpected renewal of acquaintance. 'But, 
 (said he, smiling), he met me once, and said, "I am told you 
 have written a very pretty book called The Rambler." I was 
 unwilling that he should leave the world in total darkness, 
 and sent him a set.' 
 
 Mr. Berrenger visited him to-day, and was very pleasing.
 
 456 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mi 
 
 We talked of an evening society for conversation at a house 
 in town, of which we were all members, but of which John- 
 son said, 'It will never do, Sir. There is nothing served 
 about there, neither tea, nor coffee, nor lemonade, nor any 
 thing whatever; and depend upon it, Sir, a man does not 
 love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he 
 went in.' I endeavoured, for argument's sake, to maintain 
 that men of learning and talents might have very good in- 
 tellectual society, without the aid of any little gratifications 
 of the senses. Berrenger joined with Johnson, and said, 
 that without these any meeting would be dull and insipid. 
 He would therefore have all the slight refreshments; nay, it 
 would not be amiss to have some cold meat, and a bottle of 
 wine upon a side-board. 'Sir, (said Johnson to me, with an 
 air of triumph,) Mr. Berrenger knows the world. Every 
 body loves to have good things furnished to them without 
 any trouble. I told Mrs. Thrale once, that as she did not 
 choose to have card tables, she should have a profusion of 
 the best sweetmeats, and she would be sure to have company 
 enough come to her.' 
 
 On Sunday, April 15, being Easter-day, after solemn 
 worship in St. Paul's church, I found him alone; Dr. Scott 
 of the Commons came in. 
 
 We talked of the difference between the mode of education 
 at Oxford, and that in those Colleges where instruction is 
 chiefly conveyed by lectures. JOHNSON. 'Lectures were 
 once useful; but now, when all can read, and books are so 
 numerous, lectures are unnecessary. If your attention fails, 
 and you miss a part of a lecture, it is lost; you cannot go 
 back as you do upon a book.' Dr. Scott agreed with him. 
 'But yet (said I), Dr. Scott, you yourself gave lectures at 
 Oxford.' He smiled. '.You laughed (then said I,) at those 
 who came to you.' 
 
 Dr. Scott left us, and soon afterwards we went to dinner. 
 Our company consisted of Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Desmoulins, 
 Mr. Levett, Mr. Allen, the printer, and Mrs. Hall, sister of 
 the Reverend Mr. John Wesley, and resembling him, as I 
 thought, both in figure and manner. Johnson produced 
 now, for the first time, some handsome silver salvers, which
 
 1781] AS CAPTAIN MACHEATH 457 
 
 he told me he had bought fourteen years ago; so it was a 
 great day. I was not a little amused by observing Allen 
 perpetually struggling to talk in the manner of Johnson, like 
 the little frog in the fable blowing himself up to resemble the 
 stately ox. 
 
 He mentioned a thing as not unfrequent, of which I had 
 never heard before, being called, that is, hearing one's 
 name pronounced by the voice of a known person at a great 
 distance, far beyond the possibility of being reached by any 
 sound uttered by human organs. 'An acquaintance, on 
 whose veracity I can depend, told me, that walking home 
 one evening to Kilmarnock, he heard himself called from 
 a wood, by the voice of a brother who had gone to America; 
 and the next packet brought accounts of that brother's death.' 
 Macbean asserted that this inexplicable calling was a thing 
 very well known. Dr. Johnson said, that one day at Ox- 
 ford, as 'he was turning the key of his chamber, he heard his 
 mother distinctly call Sam. She was then at Lichfield; but 
 nothing ensued. This phsenomenon is, I think, as wonder- 
 ful as any other mysterious fact, which many people are 
 very slow to believe, or rather, indeed, reject with an obstinate 
 contempt. 
 
 Some time after this, upon his making a remark which 
 escaped my attention, Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Hall were 
 both together striving to answer him. He grew angry, and 
 called out loudly, 'Nay, when you both speak at once, it is 
 intolerable.' But checking himself, and softening, he said, 
 'This one may say, though you are ladies.' Then he bright- 
 ened into gay humour, and addressed them in the words of 
 one of the songs in The Beggar's Opera : 
 
 'But two at a time there's no mortal can bear.' 
 
 'What, Sir, (said I,) are you going to turn Captain Mac- 
 heath?' There was something as pleasantly ludicrous in 
 this scene as can be imagined. The contrast between Mac- 
 heath, Polly, and Lucy and Dr. Samuel Johnson, blind, 
 peevish Mrs. Williams, and lean, lank, preaching Mrs. Hall, 
 was exquisite.
 
 458 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSONJ [1781 
 
 On Friday, 'April 20, I spent with him one of the happiest 
 days that I remember to have enjoyed in the whole course 
 of my life. Mrs. Garrick, whose grief for the loss of her 
 husband was, I believe, as sincere as wounded affection and 
 admiration could produce, had this day, for the first time 
 since his death, a select party of his friends to dine with her. 
 The company was Miss Hannah More, who lived with her, 
 and whom she called her Chaplain; Mrs. Boscawen, Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Carter, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. Burney, Dr. 
 Johnson, and myself. We found ourselves very elegantly 
 entertained at her house in the Adelphi, where I have passed 
 many a pleasing hour with him 'who gladdened life.' She 
 looked well, talked of her husband with complacency, and 
 while she cast her eyes on his portrait, which hung over the 
 chimney-piece, said, that 'death was now the most agreeable 
 object to her.' The very semblance of David Garrick was 
 cheering. 
 
 We were all in fine spirits; and I whispered to Mrs. Bos- 
 cawen, 'I believe this is as much as can be made of life.' In 
 addition to a splendid entertainment, we were regaled with 
 Lichfield ale, which had a peculiar appropriated value. Sir 
 Joshua, and Dr. Burney, and I, drank cordially of it to Dr. 
 Johnson's health; and though he would not join us, he as 
 cordially answered, 'Gentlemen, I wish you all as well as you 
 do me.' 
 
 The general effect of this day dwells upon my mind in 
 fond remembrance; but I do not find much conversation 
 recorded. What I have preserved shall be faithfully given. 
 
 One of the company mentioned Mr. Thomas Hollis, the 
 strenuous Whig, who used to send over Europe presents of 
 democratical books, with their boards stamped with daggers 
 and caps of liberty. Mrs. Carter said, 'He was a bad man. 
 He used to talk uncharitably.' JOHNSON. 'Poh! poh! 
 Madam; who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably? 
 Besides, he was a dull poor creature as ever lived: and I 
 believe he would not have done harm to a man whom he 
 knew to be of very opposite principles to his own. I remem- 
 ber once at the Society of Arts, when an advertisement was 
 to be drawn up, he pointed me out as the man who could do
 
 1781] TITTERING REBUKED 459 
 
 it best. This, you will observe, was kindness to me. I how- 
 ever slipt away, and escaped it.' 
 
 Mrs. Carter having said of the same person, 'I doubt he 
 was an Atheist.' JOHNSON. ' I don't know that. He might 
 perhaps have become one, if he had had time to ripen, (smil- 
 ing.) He might have exuberated into an Atheist.' 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds praised Mudge's Sermons. JOHNSON. 
 'Mudge's Sermons are good, but not practical. He grasps 
 more sense than he can hold; he takes more corn than he 
 can make into meal; he opens a wide prospect, but it is so 
 distant, it is indistinct. I love Blair's Sermons. Though 
 the dog is a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian, and every thing 
 he should not be, I was the first to praise them. Such was 
 my candour/ (smiling.) MRS. BOSCAWEN. 'Such his great 
 merit to get the better of all your prejudices.' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Madam, let us compound the matter; let us ascribe 
 it to my candour, and his merit.' 
 
 In the evening we had a large company in the drawing- 
 room, several ladies, the Bishop of Killaloe, Dr. Percy, Mr. 
 Chamberlayne, of the Treasury, &c. &c. 
 
 Talking of a very respectable authour, he told us a curious 
 circumstance in his life, which was, that he had married a 
 printer's devil. REYNOLDS. 'A printer's devil, Sir! Why, 
 I thought a printer's devil was a creature with a black face 
 and in rags.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I suppose, he had 
 her face washed, and put clean clothes on her. (Then look- 
 ing very serious, and very earnest.) And she did not dis- 
 grace him; the woman had a bottom of good sense.' The 
 word bottom thus introduced, was so ludicrous when con- 
 trasted with his gravity, that most of us could not forbear 
 tittering and laughing; though I recollect that the Bishop 
 of Killaloe kept his countenance with perfect steadiness, 
 while Miss Hannah More slyly hid her face behind a lady's 
 back who sat on the same settee with her. His pride could 
 not bear that any expression of his should excite ridicule, 
 when he did not intend it; he therefore resolved to assume 
 and exercise despotick power, glanced sternly around, and 
 called out in a strong tone, ' Where's the merriment ? ' Then 
 collecting himself, and looking aweful, to make us feel how
 
 460 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mi 
 
 he could impose restraint, and as it were searching his mind 
 for a still more ludicrous word, he slowly pronounced, ' I say 
 the woman was fundamentally sensible;' as if he had said, 
 hear this now, and laugh if you dare. We all sat composed 
 as at a funeral. 
 
 He and I walked away together; we stopped a little while 
 by the rails of the Adelphi, looking on the Thames, and I 
 said to him with some emotion that I was now thinking of 
 two friends we had lost, who once lived in the buildings be- 
 hind us, Beauclerk and Garrick. 'Ay, Sir, (said he, tenderly,) 
 and two such friends as cannot be supplied.' 
 
 For some time after this day I did not see him very often, 
 and of the conversation which I did enjoy, I am sorry to find 
 I have preserved but little. I was at this time engaged in 
 a variety of other matters, which required exertion and as- 
 siduity, and necessarily occupied almost all my time. 
 
 On Tuesday, May 8, I had the pleasure of again dining 
 with him and Mr. Wilkes, at Mr. Dilly's. No negotiation 
 was now required to bring them together; for Johnson was 
 so well satisfied with the former interview, that he was very 
 glad to meet Wilkes again, who was this day seated between 
 Dr. Beattie and Dr. Johnson; (between Truth and Reason, 
 as General Paoli said, when I told him of it.) WILKES. 
 'I have been thinking, Dr. Johnson, that there should be a 
 bill brought into parliament that the controverted elections 
 for Scotland should be tried in that country, at their own 
 Abbey of Holy-Rood House, and not here; for the conse- 
 quence of trying them here is, that we have an inundation 
 of Scotchmen, who come up and never go back again. Now 
 here is Boswell, who is come up upon the election for his own 
 county, which will not last a fortnight.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, 
 Sir, I see no reason why they should be tried at all; for, you 
 know, one Scotchman is as good as another.' WILKES. 
 ' Pray, Boswell, how much may be got in a year by an Advo- 
 cate at the Scotch bar ? ' BOSWELL. ' I believe two thousand 
 pounds.' WILKES. 'How can it be possible to spend that 
 money in Scotland ? ' JOHNSON. ' Why, Sir, the money may 
 be spent in England: but there is a harder question. If one 
 man in Scotland gets possession of two thousand pounds,
 
 1781] THE PAROLE OF LITERARY MEN 461 
 
 what remains for all the rest of the nation ? ' WILKES. ' You 
 know, in the last war, the immense booty which Thurot 
 carried off by the complete plunder of seven Scotch isles; 
 he re-embarked with three and six-pence.' Here again John- 
 son and Wilkes joined in extravagant sportive raillery upon 
 the supposed poverty of Scotland, which Dr. Beattie and 
 I did not think it worth our while to dispute. 
 
 The subject of quotation being introduced, Mr. Wilkes 
 censured it as pedantry. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, it is a good 
 thing; there is a community of mind in it. Classical quota- 
 tion is the parole of literary men all over the world.' 
 
 He gave us an entertaining account of Bet Flint, a woman 
 of the town, who, with some eccentrick talents and much 
 effrontery, forced herself upon his acquaintance. 'Bet (said 
 he,) wrote her own Life in verse, which she brought to me, 
 wishing that I would furnish her with a Preface to it, (laugh- 
 ing.) I used to say of her that she was generally slut and 
 drunkard; occasionally, whore and thief. She had, however, 
 genteel lodgings, a spinnet on which she played, and a boy 
 that walked before her chair. Poor Bet was taken up on 
 a charge of stealing a counterpane, and tried at the Old 
 
 Bailey. Chief Justice , who loved a wench, summed 
 
 up favourably, and she was acquitted. After which Bet said, 
 with a gay and satisfied air, "Now that the counterpane is 
 my own, I shall make a petticoat of it.'" 
 
 Talking of oratory, Mr. Wilkes described it as accom- 
 panied with all the charms of poetical expression. JOHNSON. 
 'No, Sir; oratory is the power of beating down your adver- 
 sary's arguments, and putting better in their place.' WILKES. 
 'But this does not move the passions.' JOHNSON. 'He 
 must be a weak man, who is to be so moved.' WILKES. 
 (naming a celebrated orator,) 'Amidst all the brilliancy of 
 
 's imagination, and the exuberance of his wit, there is 
 
 a strange want of taste. It was observed of Apelles's Venus, 
 that her flesh seemed as if she had been nourished by roses: 
 his oratory would sometimes make one suspect that he eats 
 potatoes and drinks whisky.' 
 
 Mr. Wilkes said to me, loud enough for Dr. Johnson to 
 hear, ' Dr. Johnson should make me a present of his Lives of
 
 462 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mi 
 
 the Poets, as I am a poor patriot, who cannot afford to buy 
 them.' Johnson seemed to take no notice of this hint; but 
 in a little while, he called to Mr. Dilly, ' Pray, Sir, be so good 
 as to send a set of my Lives to Mr. Wilkes, with my compli- 
 ments.' This was accordingly done; and Mr. Wilkes paid 
 Dr. Johnson a visit, was courteously received, and sat with 
 him a long time. 
 
 The company gradually dropped away. Mr. Dilly him- 
 self was called down stairs upon business; I left the room 
 for some time; when I returned, I was struck with observing 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson and John Wilkes, Esq., literally tele-d,- 
 te'e ; for they were reclined upon their chairs, with their 
 heads leaning almost close to each other, and talking ear- 
 nestly, in a kind of confidential whisper, of the personal 
 quarrel between George the Second and the King of Prussia. 
 Such a scene of perfectly easy sociality between two such 
 opponents in the war of political controversy, as that which 
 I now beheld, would have been an excellent subject for a 
 picture. It presented to my mind the happy days which 
 are foretold in Scripture, when the lion shall lie down with 
 the kid. 
 
 After this day there was another pretty long interval, 
 during which Dr. Johnson and I did not meet. When I 
 mentioned it to him with regret, he was pleased to say, 
 'Then, Sir, let us live double.' 
 
 About this time it was much the fashion for several ladies 
 to have evening assemblies, where the fair sex might par- 
 ticipate in conversation with literary and ingenious men, 
 animated by a desire to please. These societies were de- 
 nominated Blue-stocking Clubs, the origin of which title 
 being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One 
 of the most eminent members of those societies, when they 
 first commenced, was Mr. Stillingfleet, whose dress was 
 remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed, that 
 he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence of his 
 conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, 
 that it used to be said, 'We can do nothing without the blue 
 stockings;' and thus by degrees the title was established. 
 Miss Hannah More has admirably described a Blue-stocking
 
 1781] AT MISS MONCKTON'S 463 
 
 Club, in her Bas Bleu, a poem in which many of the persons 
 who were most conspicuous there are mentioned. 
 
 Johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these 
 circles, and did not think himself too grave even for the 
 lively Miss Monckton (now Countess of Corke), who used 
 to have the finest bit of blue at the house of her mother, Lady 
 Galway. Her vivacity enchanted the Sage, and they used 
 to talk together with all imaginable ease. A singular in- 
 stance happened one evening, when she insisted that some 
 of Sterne's writings were very pathetick. Johnson bluntly 
 denied it. 'I am sure (said she,) they have affected me.' 
 'Why, (said Johnson, smiling, and rolling himself about,) 
 that is, because, dearest, you're a dunce.' When she some 
 time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said with equal 
 truth and politeness; 'Madam, if I had thought so, I cer- 
 tainly should not have said it.' 
 
 Another evening Johnson's kind indulgence towards me 
 had a pretty difficult trial. I had dined at the Duke of 
 Montrose's with a very agreeable party, and his Grace, ac- 
 cording to his usual custom, had circulated the bottle very 
 freely. Lord Graham and I went together to Miss Monck- 
 ton's, where I certainly was in extraordinary spirits, and 
 above all fear or awe. In the midst of a great number of 
 persons of the first rank, amongst whom I recollect with con- 
 fusion, a noble lady of the most stately decorum, I placed 
 myself next to Johnson, and thinking myself now fully his 
 match, talked to him in a loud and boisterous manner, 
 desirous to let the company know how I could contend with 
 Ajax. I particularly remember pressing him upon the value 
 of the pleasures of the imagination, and as an illustration of 
 my argument, asking him, 'What, Sir, supposing I were to 
 
 fancy that the (naming the most charming Duchess 
 
 in his Majesty's dominions) were in love with me, should I 
 not be very happy?' My friend with much address evaded 
 my interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as possible; but 
 it may easily be conceived how he must have felt. However, 
 when a few days afterwards I waited upon him and made 
 an apology, he behaved with the most friendly gentleness. 
 
 While I remained in London this year, Johnson and I
 
 464 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [mi 
 
 dined together at several places. I recollect a placid day at 
 Dr. Butter's, who had now removed from Derby to Lower 
 Grosvenor-street, London; but of his conversation on that 
 and other occasions during this period, I neglected to keep 
 any regular record, and shall therefore insert here some mis- 
 cellaneous articles which I find in my Johnsonian notes. 
 
 His disorderly habits, when 'making provision for the day 
 that was passing over him/ appear from the following anec- 
 dote, communicated to me by Mr. John Nichols: 'In the 
 year 1763, a young bookseller, who. was an apprentice to 
 Mr. Whiston, waited on him with a subscription to his 
 Shakspeare : and observing that the Doctor made no entry 
 in any book of the subscriber's name, ventured diffidently 
 to ask, whether he would please to have the gentleman's ad- 
 dress, that it might be properly inserted in the printed list 
 of subscribers. "/ shall print no list of subscribers;" said 
 Johnson, with great abruptness: but almost immediately 
 recollecting himself, added, very complacently, "Sir, I have 
 two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of sub- 
 scribers; one, that I have lost all the names, the other, 
 that I have spent all the money." 
 
 Johnson could not brook appearing to be worsted in argu- 
 ment, even when he had taken the wrong side, to shew the 
 force and dexterity of his talents. When, therefore, he per- 
 ceived that his opponent gained ground, he had recourse to 
 some sudden mode of robust sophistry. Once when I was 
 pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me 
 thus: 'My dear Boswell, let's have no more of this; you'll 
 make nothing of it. I'd rather have you whistle a Scotch 
 tune.' 
 
 Care, however, must be taken to distinguish between 
 Johnson when he 'talked for victory,' and Johnson when he 
 had no desire but to inform and illustrate. 'One of John- 
 son's principal talents (says an eminent friend of his) was 
 shewn in maintaining the wrong side of an argument, and in 
 a splendid perversion of the truth. If you could contrive to 
 have his fair opinion on a subject, and without any bias from 
 personal prejudice, or from a wish to be victorious in argu- 
 ment, it was wisdom itself, not only convincing, but over- 
 powering.'
 
 1781] TALK AS A TRIAL OF SKILL 465 
 
 He had, however, all his life habituated himself to con- 
 sider conversation as a trial of intellectual vigour and skill; 
 and to this, I think, we may venture to ascribe that unex- 
 ampled richness and brilliancy which appeared in his own. 
 As a proof at once of his eagerness for colloquial distinction, 
 and his high notion of this eminent friend, he once addressed 
 him thus: ' , we now have been several hours to- 
 gether; and you have said but one thing for which I envied 
 you.' 
 
 Goldsmith could sometimes take adventurous liberties 
 with him, and escape unpunished. Beauclerk told me that 
 when Goldsmith talked of a project for having a third 
 Theatre in London, solely for the exhibition of new plays, in 
 order to deliver authours from the supposed tyranny of 
 managers, Johnson treated it slightingly; upon which Gold- 
 smith said, 'Ay, ay, this may be nothing to you, who can. 
 now shelter yourself behind the corner of a pension;' and 
 that Johnson bore this with good-humour. 
 
 Johnson had called twice on the Bishop of Killaloe before 
 his Lordship set out for Ireland, having missed him the first 
 time. He said, 'It would have hung heavy on my heart if 
 I had not seen him. No man ever paid more attention to- 
 another than he has done to me; and I have neglected him, 
 not wilfully, but from being otherwise occupied. Always, 
 Sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. He whose 
 inclination prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his 
 own accord, will love you more than one whom you have 
 been at pains to attach to you.' 
 
 I asked him if he was not dissatisfied with having so small 
 a share of wealth, and none of those distinctions in the state 
 which are the objects of ambition. He had only a pension 
 of three hundred a year. Why was he not in such circum- 
 stances as to keep his coach? Why had he not some con- 
 siderable office? JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have never complained 
 of the world; nor do I think that I have reason to complain. 
 It is rather to be wondered at that I have so much. My 
 pension is more out of the usual course of things than any 
 instance that I have known. Here, Sir, was a man avowedly 
 no friend to Government at the time, who got a pension with- 
 out asking for it. I never courted the great; they sent for
 
 466 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 me; but I think they now give me up. They are satisfied; 
 they have seen enough of me.' 
 
 Strange, however, it is, to consider how few of the great 
 .sought his society; so that if one were disposed to take oc- 
 casion for satire on that account, very conspicuous objects 
 present themselves. His noble friend, Lord Elibank, well 
 observed, that if a great man procured an interview with 
 Johnson, and did not wish to see him more, it shewed a mere 
 idle curiosity, and a wretched want of relish for extraor- 
 dinary powers of mind. Mrs. Thrale justly and wittily ac- 
 counted for such conduct by saying, that Johnson's conver- 
 sation was by much too strong for a person accustomed to 
 obsequiousness and flattery; it was mustard in a young child's 
 mouth! 
 
 On Saturday, June 2, I set out for Scotland, and had 
 promised to pay a visit in my way, as I sometimes did, at 
 Southill, in Bedfordshire, at the hospitable mansion of 
 'Squire Dilly, the elder brother of my worthy friends, the 
 booksellers, in the Poultry. Dr. Johnson agreed to be of 
 the party this year, with Mr. Charles Dilly and me, and to 
 go and see Lord Bute's seat at Luton Hoe. He talked little 
 to us in the carriage, being chiefly occupied in reading Dr. 
 Watson's second volume of Chemical Essays, which he liked 
 very well, and his own Prince of Abyssinia, on which he 
 .seemed to be intensely fixed; having told us, that he had 
 not looked at it since it was first published. I happened to 
 take it out of my pocket this day, and he seized upon it with 
 avidity. 
 
 We stopped at Welwyn, where I wished much to see, in 
 company with Dr. Johnson, the residence of the authour 
 of Night Thoughts, which was then possessed by his son, 
 Mr. Young. Here some address was requisite, for I was 
 not acquainted with Mr. Young, and had I proposed to Dr. 
 Johnson that we should send to him, he would have checked 
 my wish, and perhaps been offended. I therefore concerted 
 with Mr. Dilly, that I should steal away from Dr. Johnson 
 and him, and try what reception I could procure from Mr. 
 Young; if unfavourable, nothing was to be said; but if agree- 
 able, I should return and notify it to them. I hastened to
 
 1781] DR. YOUNG'S GARDEN 407 
 
 Mr. Young's, found he was at home, sent in word that a 
 gentleman desired to wait upon him, and was shewn into a 
 parlour, where he and a young lady, his daughter, were sit- 
 ting. He appeared to be a plain, civil, country gentleman; 
 and when I begged pardon for presuming to trouble him, 
 but that I wished much to see his place, if he would give me 
 leave; he behaved very courteously, and answered, 'By all 
 means, Sir; we are just going to drink tea; will you sit 
 down?' I thanked him, but said, that Dr. Johnson had 
 come with me from London, and I must return to the inn 
 and drink tea with him; that my name was Boswell, I had 
 travelled with him in the Hebrides. 'Sir, (said he,) I should 
 think it a great honour to see Dr. Johnson here. Will you 
 allow me to send for him ? ' Availing myself of this opening, 
 I said that 'I would go myself and bring him, when he had 
 drunk tea; he knew nothing of my calling here.' Having 
 been thus successful, I hastened back to the inn, and in- 
 formed Dr. Johnson that 'Mr. Young, son of Dr. Young, 
 the authour of Night Thoughts, whom I had just left, desired 
 to have the honour of seeing him at the house where his 
 father lived.' Dr. Johnson luckily made no inquiry how 
 this invitation had arisen, but agreed to go, and when we 
 entered Mr. Young's parlour, he addressed him with a very 
 polite bow, ' Sir, I had a curiosity to come and see this place. 
 I had the honour to know that great man, your father.' 
 We went into the garden, where we found a gravel walk, on 
 each side of which was a row of trees, planted by Dr. Young, 
 which formed a handsome Gothick arch; Dr. Johnson called 
 it a fine grove. I beheld it with reverence. 
 
 We sat some time in the summer-house, on the outside 
 wall of which was inscribed, 'Ambulantes in horto audiebant 
 vocem Dei ; ' and in reference to a brook by which it is situ- 
 ated, 'Vivendi recte qui prorogat horam,' &c. I said to Mr. 
 Young, that I had been told his father was cheerful. 'Sir, 
 (said he,) he was too well-bred a man not to be cheerful in 
 company; but he was gloomy when alone. He never was 
 cheerful after my mother's death, and he had met with 
 many disappointments.' Dr. Johnson observed to me after- 
 wards, 'That this was no favourable account of Dr. Young;
 
 468 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1781 
 
 for it is not becoming in a man to have so little acquiescence 
 in the ways of Providence, as to be gloomy because he has 
 not obtained as much preferment as he expected; nor to 
 continue gloomy for the loss of his wife. Grief has its time.' 
 The last part of this censure was theoretically made. Prac- 
 tically, we know that grief for the loss of a wife may be con- 
 tinued very long, in proportion as affection has been sincere. 
 No man knew this better than Dr. Johnson. 
 
 Upon the road we talked of the uncertainty of profit with 
 which authours and booksellers engage in the publication of 
 literary works. JOHNSON. 'My judgement I have found is 
 no certain rule as to the sale of a book.' BOSWELL. 'Pray, 
 Sir, have you been much plagued with authours sending you 
 their works to revise?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I have been 
 thought a sour, surly fellow.' BOSWELL. 'Very lucky for 
 you, Sir, in that respect.' I must however observe, that 
 notwithstanding what he now said, which he no doubt im- 
 agined at the time to be the fact, there was, perhaps, no man 
 who more frequently yielded to the solicitations even of very 
 obscure authours, to read their manuscripts, or more liber- 
 ally assisted them with advice and correction. 
 
 He found himself very happy at 'Squire Dilly's, where 
 there is always abundance of excellent fare, and hearty 
 welcome. 
 
 On Sunday, June 3, we all went to Southill church, which 
 is very near to Mr. Dilly's house. It being the first Sunday 
 of the month, the holy sacrament was administered, and 
 I staid to partake of it. When I came afterwards into Dr. 
 Johnson's room, he said, 'You did right to stay and receive 
 the communion; I had not thought of it.' This seemed to 
 imply that he did not choose to approach the altar without 
 a previous preparation, as to which good men entertain 
 different opinions, some holding that it is irreverent to par- 
 take of that ordinance without considerable premeditation. 
 
 Although upon most occasions I never heard a more 
 strenuous advocate for the advantages of wealth, than Dr. 
 Johnson: he this day, I know not from what caprice, took 
 the other side. 'I have not observed (said he,) that men 
 of very large fortunes enjoy any thing extraordinary that
 
 1781], VISIT TO LUTON-HOE ,, :i: 469 
 
 makes happiness. What has the Duke of Bedford? What 
 has the Duke of Devonshire? The only great instance that 
 I have ever known of the enjoyment of wealth was, that of 
 Jamaica Dawkins, who, going to visit Palmyra, and hearing 
 that the way was infested by robbers, hired a troop of Turk- 
 ish horse to guard him.' 
 
 Dr. Gibbons, the Dissenting minister, being mentioned, 
 he said, 'I took to Dr. Gibbons.' And addressing himself 
 to Mr. Charles Dilly, added, 'I shall be glad to see him. 
 Tell him, if he'll call on me, and dawdle over a dish of tea 
 in an afternoon, I shall take it kind.' 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Smith, Vicar of Southill, a very re- 
 spectable man, with a very agreeable family, sent an invita- 
 tion to us to drink tea. I remarked Dr. Johnson's very 
 respectful politeness. Though always fond of changing the 
 scene, he said, 'We must have Mr. Dilly's leave. We can- 
 not go from your house, Sir, without your permission.' We 
 all went, and were well satisfied with our visit. 
 
 When I observed that a housebreaker was in general very 
 timorous; JOHNSON. 'No wonder, Sir; he is afraid of being 
 shot getting into a house, or hanged when he has got out of it.' 
 
 He told us, that he had in one day written six sheets of 
 a translation from the French, adding, 'I should be glad to 
 see it now. I wish that I had copies of all the pamphlets 
 written against me, as it is said Pope had. Had I known 
 that I should make so much noise in the world, I should have 
 been at pains to collect them. I believe there is hardly a 
 day in which there is not something about me in the news- 
 papers.' 
 
 On Monday, June 4, we all went to Luton-Hoe, to see 
 Lord Bute's magnificent seat, for which I had obtained a 
 ticket. As we entered the park, I talked in a high style of 
 my old friendship with Lord Mountstuart, and said, 'I shall 
 probably be much at this place.' The Sage, aware of human 
 vicissitudes, gently checked me: 'Don't you be too sure of 
 that.' He made two or three peculiar observations; as 
 when shewn the botanical garden, ' Is not every garden a 
 botanical garden?' When told that there was a shrub- 
 bery to the extent of several miles: 'That is making a very
 
 470 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1781 
 
 foolish use of the ground; a little of it is very well.' When 
 it was proposed that we should walk on the pleasure-ground; 
 'Don't let us fatigue ourselves. Why should we walk there? 
 Here's a fine tree, let's get to the top of it.' But upon the 
 whole, he was very much pleased. He said, 'This is one of 
 the places I do not regret having come to see. It is a very 
 stately place, indeed; in the house magnificence is not sacri- 
 ficed to convenience, nor convenience to magnificence. The 
 library is very splendid: the dignity of the rooms is very 
 great; and the quantity of pictures is beyond expectation, 
 beyond hope.' 
 
 It happened without any previous concert, that we visited 
 the seat of Lord Bute upon the King's birthday; we dined and 
 drank his Majesty's health at an inn, in the village of Luton. 
 
 In the evening I put him in mind of his promise to favour 
 me with a copy of his celebrated Letter to the Earl of Ches- 
 terfield, and he was at last pleased to comply with this earnest 
 request, by dictating it to me from his memory; for he be- 
 lieved that he himself had no copy. There was an animated 
 glow in his countenance while he thus recalled his high-minded 
 indignation. 
 
 On Tuesday, June 5, Johnson was to return to London. 
 He was very pleasant at breakfast; I mentioned a friend of 
 mine having resolved never to marry a pretty woman. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, it is a very foolish resolution to resolve not to 
 marry a pretty woman. Beauty is of itself very estimable. 
 No, Sir, I would prefer a pretty woman, unless there are 
 objections to her. A pretty woman may be foolish; a 
 pretty woman may be wicked; a pretty woman may not 
 like me. But there is no such danger in marrying a pretty 
 woman as is apprehended: she will not be persecuted if she 
 does not invite persecution. A pretty woman, if she has a 
 mind to be wicked, can find a readier way than another; 
 and that is all.' 
 
 At Shefford I had another affectionate parting from my 
 revered friend, who was taken up by the Bedford coach and 
 carried to the metropolis. I went with Messieurs Dilly, to 
 see some friends at Bedford; dined with the officers of the 
 militia of the county, and next day proceeded on my journey.
 
 1781] DR. BURNEY'S ANECDOTE 471 
 
 Johnson's charity to the poor was uniform and extensive,, 
 both from inclination and principle. He not only bestowed 
 liberally out of his own purse, but what is more difficult as 
 well as rare, would beg from others, when he had proper 
 objects in view. This he did judiciously as well as humanely. 
 Mr. Philip Metcalfe tells me, that when he has asked him 
 for some money for persons in distress, and Mr. Metcalfe 
 has offered what Johnson thought too much, he insisted on 
 taking less, saying, 'No, no, Sir; we must not pamper them.' 
 
 I am indebted to Mr. Malone, one of Sir Joshua Reynolds's 
 executors, for the following note, which was found among 
 his papers after his death, and which, we may presume, his 
 unaffected modesty prevented him from communicating to- 
 me with the other letters from Dr. Johnson with which he 
 was pleased to furnish me. However slight in itself, as it 
 does honour to that illustrious painter, and most amiable 
 man, I am happy to introduce it. 
 
 'To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, It was not before yesterday that I received 
 your splendid benefaction. To a hand so liberal in dis- 
 tributing, I hope nobody will envy the power of acquiring. 
 I am, dear Sir, your obliged and most humble servant, 
 
 'June 23, 1781.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 The following curious anecdote I insert in Dr. Burney's 
 own words: 
 
 ' Dr. Burney related to Dr. Johnson the partiality which 
 his writings had excited in a friend of Dr. Burney's, the 
 late Mr. Bewley, well known in Norfolk by the name of the 
 Philosopher of Massingham : who, from the Ramblers and 
 Plan of his Dictionary, and long before the authour's fame was 
 established by the Dictionary itself, or any other work, had 
 conceived such a reverence for him, that he urgently begged 
 Dr. Burney to give him the cover of the first letter he had 
 received from him, as a relick of so estimable a writer. This 
 was in 1755. In 1760, when Dr. Burney visited Dr. Johnson 
 at the Temple in London, where he had then chambers, he
 
 472 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 happened to arrive there before he was up; and being shewn 
 kito the room where he was to breakfast, finding himself 
 alone, he examined the contents of the apartment, to try 
 whether he could undiscovered steal anything to send to 
 his friend Bewley, as another reJick of the admirable Dr. 
 Johnson. But finding nothing better to his purpose, he 
 cut some bristles off his hearth-broom, and enclosed them 
 in a letter to his country enthusiast, who received them 
 with due reverence. The Doctor was so sensible of the 
 honour done him by a man of genius and science, to whom 
 he was an utter stranger, that he said to Dr. Burney, "Sir, 
 there is no man possessed of the smallest portion of modesty, 
 but must be flattered with the admiration of such a man. 
 I'll give him a set of my Lives, if he will do me the honour 
 to accept of them." In this he kept his word; and Dr. 
 Burney had not only the pleasure of gratifying his friend 
 with a present more worthy of his acceptance than the seg- 
 ment from the hearth-broom, but soon after of introducing 
 him to Dr. Johnson himself in Bolt-court, with whom he 
 had the satisfaction of conversing a considerable time, not 
 a fortnight before his death; which happened in St. Martin's- 
 street, during his visit to Dr. Burney, in the house where the 
 great Sir Isaac Newton had lived and died before.' 
 
 In one of his little msmorandum-books is the following 
 minute : 
 
 'August 9, 3 P.M., setat. 72, in the summer-house at 
 Streatham. 
 
 'After innumerable resolutions formed and neglected, I 
 have retired hither, to plan a life of greater diligence, in 
 hope that I may yet be useful, and be daily better prepared 
 to appear before my Creator and my Judge, from whose 
 infinite mercy I humbly call for assistance and support. 
 
 'My purpose is, 
 
 'To pass eight hours every day in some serious employ- 
 ment. 
 
 'Having prayed, I purpose to employ the next six weeks 
 upon the Italian language, for my settled study.' 
 
 In autumn he went to Oxford, Birmingham, Lichfield, and
 
 1782] MR. HECTOR 473 
 
 Ashbourne, for which very good reasons might be given in 
 the conjectural yet positive manner of writers, who are 
 proud to account for every event which they relate. He 
 himself, however, says, 'The motives of my journey I hardly 
 know; I omitted it last year, and am not willing to miss it 
 again.' 
 
 But some good considerations arise, amongst which is the 
 kindly recollection of Mr. Hector, surgeon at Birmingham: 
 'Hector is likewise an old friend, the only companion of my 
 childhood that passed through the school with me. We 
 have always loved one another; perhaps we may be made 
 better by some serious conversation, of which however I 
 have no distinct hope.' He says too, 'At Lichfield, my na- 
 tive place, I hope to shew a good example by frequent at- 
 tendance on publick worship.' 
 
 1782: ^ETAT. 73.] IN 1782, his complaints increased, and 
 the history of his life this year, is little more than a mourn- 
 ful recital of the variations of his illness, in the midst of 
 which, however, it will appear from his letters, that the 
 powers of his mind were in no degree impaired. 
 
 At a time when he was less able than he had once beea 
 to sustain a shock, he was suddenly deprived of Mr. Levett,. 
 which event he thus communicated to Dr. Lawrence: 
 
 'SiR, Our old friend, Mr. Levett, who was last night 
 eminently cheerful, died this morning. The man who lay 
 in the same room, hearing an uncommon noise, got up and 
 tried to make him speak, but without effect. He then 
 called Mr. Holder, the apothecary, who, though when he 
 came he thought him dead, opened a vein, but could dravr 
 no blood. So has ended the long life of a very useful and 
 very blameless man. I am, Sir, your most humble servant,. 
 
 'Jan. 17, 1782.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 In one of his memorandum-books in my possession, is 
 the following entry: 'January 20, Sunday. Robert Levett 
 was buried in the church-yard of Bridewell, between one 
 and two in the afternoon. He died on Thursday 17, about 
 seven in the morning, by an instantaneous death. He was
 
 474 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1782 
 
 an old and faithful friend; I have known him from about 46. 
 Commendavi. May GOD have mercy on him. May he have 
 mercy on me.' 
 
 On the 30th of August, I informed him that my honoured 
 father had died that morning; a complaint under which 
 he had long laboured having suddenly come to a crisis, 
 while I was upon a visit at the seat of Sir Charles Preston, 
 from whence I had hastened the day before, upon receiving 
 a letter by express. 
 
 In answer to my next letter, I received one from him, 
 dissuading me from hastening to him as I had proposed; 
 what is proper for publication is the following paragraph, 
 equally just and tender: 'One expence, however, I would 
 not have you to spare: let nothing be omitted that can 
 preserve Mrs. Boswell, though it should be necessary to 
 transplant her for a time into a softer climate. She is the 
 prop and stay of your life. How much must your children 
 suffer by losing her.' 
 
 My wife was now so much convinced of his sincere friend- 
 ship for me, and regard for her, that, without any sugges- 
 tion on my part, she wrote him a very polite and grateful 
 letter: 
 
 'DR. JOHNSON TO MBS. BOSWELL. 
 
 'DEAR LADY, I have not often received so much pleasure 
 as from your invitation to Auchinleck. The journey thither 
 and back is, indeed, too great for the latter part of the year; 
 but if my health were fully recovered, I would suffer no 
 little heat and cold, nor a wet or a rough road to keep me 
 from you. I am, indeed, not without hope of seeing Auchin- 
 leck again; but to make it a pleasant place I must see its 
 lady well, and brisk, and airy. For my sake, therefore, 
 among many greater reasons, take care, dear Madam, of 
 your health, spare no expence, and want no attendance that 
 can procure ease, or preserve it. Be very careful to keep 
 your mind quiet; and do not think it too much to give an 
 account of your recovery to, Madam, yours, &c. 
 
 'London, Sept. 7, 1782.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.'
 
 1782] LOSS IN THRALE'S DEATH 475 
 
 The death of Mr. Thrale had made a very material altera- 
 tion with respect to Johnson's reception in that family. 
 The manly authority of the husband no longer curbed the 
 lively exuberance of the lady; and as her vanity had been 
 fully gratified, by having the Colossus of Literature at- 
 tached to her for many years, she gradually became less 
 assiduous to please him. Whether her attachment to him 
 was already divided by another object, I am unable to 
 ascertain; but it is plain that Johnson's penetration was 
 alive to her neglect or forced attention; for on the 6th of 
 October this year, we find him making a 'parting use of 
 the library' at Streatham, and pronouncing a prayer, which 
 he composed on leaving Mr. Thrale's family: 
 
 'Almighty God, Father of all mercy, help me by thy 
 grace, that I may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, 
 remember the comforts and conveniences which I have 
 enjoyed at this place; and that I may resign them with 
 holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when 
 thou givest, and when thou takest away. Have mercy 
 upon me, Lord, have mercy upon me. 
 
 'To thy fatherly protection, Lord, I commend this 
 family. Bless, guide, and defend them, that they may so 
 pass through this world, as finally to enjoy in thy presence 
 everlasting happiness, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen.' 
 
 One cannot read this prayer, without some emotions not 
 very favourable to the lady whose conduct occasioned it. 
 
 In one of his memorandum-books I find, 'Sunday, went 
 to church at Streatham. Templo valedixi cum osculo.' 
 
 He met Mr. Philip Metcalfe often at Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds's, and other places, and was a good deal with him at 
 Brighthelmston this autumn, being pleased at once with his 
 excellent table and animated conversation. Mr. Metcalfe 
 shewed him great respect, and sent him a note that he 
 might have the use of his carriage whenever he pleased. 
 Johnson (3rd October, 1782) returned this polite answer: 
 'Mr. Johnson is very much obliged by the kind offer of the 
 carriage, but he has no desire of using Mr. Metcalfe's car- 
 riage, except when he can have the pleasure of Mr. Met- 
 calfe's company.' Mr. Metcalfe could not but be highly
 
 476 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 pleased that his company was thus valued by Johnson, and 
 he frequently attended him in airings. They also went to- 
 gether to Chichester, and they visited Petworth, and Cowdry, 
 the venerable seat of the Lords Montacute. 'Sir, (said 
 Johnson,) I should like to stay here four-and-twenty hours. 
 We see here how our ancestors lived.' 
 
 'To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I heard yesterday of your late disorder, and 
 should think ill of myself if I had heard of it without alarm. 
 I heard likewise of your recovery, which I sincerely wish 
 to be complete and permanent. Your country has been in 
 danger of losing one of its brightest ornaments, and I of losing 
 one of my oldest and kindest friends: but I hope you will 
 still live long, for the honour of the nation: and that more 
 enjoyment of your elegance, your intelligence, and your 
 benevolence, is still reserved for, dear Sir, your most affec- 
 tionate, &c. 
 
 'Brighthelmston, Nov. 14, 1782.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 1783: ^BTAT. 74.] IN 1783, he was more severely afflicted 
 than ever, as will appear in the course of his correspondence; 
 but still the same ardour for literature, the same constant 
 piety, the same kindness for his friends, and the same vivac- 
 ity both in conversation and writing, distinguished him. 
 
 On Friday, March 21, having arrived in London the night 
 before, I was glad to find him at Mrs. Thrale's house, in 
 Argyll-street, appearances of friendship between them being 
 still kept up. I was shewn into his room, and after the first 
 salutation he said, 'I am glad you are come. I am very ill.' 
 He looked pale, and was distressed with a difficulty of breath- 
 ing; but after the common inquiries he assumed his usual 
 strong animated style of conversation. Seeing me now for 
 the first time as a Laird, or proprietor of land, he began thus: 
 'Sir, the superiority of a country-gentleman over the people 
 upon his estate is very agreeable; and he who says he does 
 not feel it to be agreeable, lies; for it must be agreeable to 
 have a casual superiority over those who are by nature
 
 1783] THE HANOVERIANS AND STUARTS 477 
 
 equal with us.' BOSWELL. 'Yet, Sir, we see great pro- 
 prietors of land who prefer living in London.' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, the pleasure of living in London, the intellectual 
 superiority that is enjoyed there, may counterbalance the 
 other. Besides, Sir, a man may prefer the state of the 
 country-gentleman upon the whole, and yet there may never 
 be a moment when he is willing to make the change to quit 
 London for it.' 
 
 He talked with regret and indignation of the factious oppo- 
 sition to Government at this time, and imputed it in a great 
 measure to the Revolution. 'Sir, (said he, in a low voice, 
 having come nearer to me, while his old prejudices seemed to 
 be fermenting in his mind,) this Hanoverian family is isolee 
 here. They have no friends. Now the Stuarts had friends 
 who stuck by them so late as 1745. When the right of the 
 King is not reverenced, there will not be reverence for those 
 appointed by the King.' 
 
 He repeated to me his verses on Mr. Levett, with an emo- 
 tion which gave them full effect; and then he was pleased to 
 say, 'You must be as much with me as you can. You have 
 done me good. You cannot think how much better I am 
 since you came in.' 
 
 He sent a message to acquaint Mrs. Thrale that I was 
 arrived. I had not seen her since her husband's death. She 
 soon appeared, and favoured me with an invitation to stay 
 to dinner, which I accepted. There was no other company 
 but herself and three of her daughters, Dr. Johnson, and I. 
 She too said, she was very glad I was come, for she was 
 going to Bath, and should have been sorry to leave Dr. 
 Johnson before I came. This seemed to be attentive and 
 kind; and I who had not been informed of any change, 
 imagined all to be as well as formerly. He was little in- 
 clined to talk at dinner, and went to sleep after it; but 
 when he joined us in the drawing-room, he seemed revived, 
 and was again himself. 
 
 Talking of conversation, he said, 'There must, in the first 
 place, be knowledge, there must be materials; in the sec- 
 ond place, there must be a command of words; in the third 
 place, there must be imagination, to place things in such
 
 478 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 views as they are not commonly seen in; and in the fourth 
 place, there must be presence of mind, and a resolution that 
 is not to be overcome by failures: this last is an essential 
 requisite; for want of it many people do not excel in conver- 
 sation. Now / want it: I throw up the game upon losing 
 a trick.' I wondered to hear him talk thus of himself, and 
 said, 'I don't know, Sir, how this may be; but I am sure you 
 beat other people's cards out of their hands/ I doubt 
 whether he heard this remark. While he went on talking 
 triumphantly, I was fixed in admiration, and said to Mrs. 
 Thrale, '0, for short-hand to take this down!' 'You'll 
 carry it all in your head, (said she;) a long head is as good 
 as short-hand.' 
 
 It has been observed and wondered at,- that Mr. Charles 
 Fox never talked with any freedom in the presence of Dr. 
 Johnson, though it is well known, and I myself can witness, 
 that his conversation is various, fluent, and exceedingly 
 agreeable. Johnson's own experience, however, of that 
 gentleman's reserve was a sufficient reason for his going on 
 thus: 'Fox never talks in private company; not from any 
 determination not to talk, but because he has not the first 
 motion. A man who is used to the applause of the House of 
 Commons, has no wish for that of a private company. A 
 man accustomed to throw for a thousand pounds, if set 
 down to throw for sixpence, would not be at the pains to 
 count his dice. Burke 's talk is the ebullition of his mind; 
 he does not talk from a desire of distinction, but because his 
 mind is full.' 
 
 After musing for some time, he said, 'I wonder how I 
 should have any enemies; for I do harm to nobody.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'In the first place, Sir, you will be pleased to recol- 
 lect, that you set out with attacking the Scotch; so you got 
 a whole nation for your enemies.' JOHNSON. ' Why, I own, 
 that by my definition of oats I meant to vex them.' BOS- 
 WELL. ' Pray, Sir, can you trace the cause of your antipathy 
 to the Scotch?' JOHNSON. 'I cannot, Sir.' BOSWELL. 
 'Old Mr. Sheridan says, it was because they sold Charles 
 the First.' JOHNSON. 'Then, Sir, old Mr. Sheridan has 
 found out a very good reason.'
 
 1783] VISIT TO GENERAL OGLETHORPE 479 
 
 I had paid a visit to General Oglethorpe in the morning, 1 
 and was told by him that Dr. Johnson saw company on 
 Saturday evenings, and he would meet me at Johnson's that 
 night. When I mentioned this to Johnson, not doubting 
 that it would please him, as he had a great value for Ogle- 
 thorpe, the fretfulness of his disease unexpectedly shewed 
 itself; his anger suddenly kindled, and he said, with vehe- 
 mence, 'Did not you tell him not to come? Am I to be 
 hunted in this manner?' I satisfied him that I could not 
 divine that the visit would not be convenient, and that I 
 certainly could not take it upon me of my own accord to 
 forbid the General. 
 
 I found Dr. Johnson in the evening in Mrs. Williams 's 
 room, at tea and coffee with her and Mrs. Desmoulins, who 
 were also both ill; it was a sad scene, and he was not in very 
 good humour. He said of a performance that had lately 
 come out, 'Sir, if you should search all the madhouses in 
 England, you would not find ten men who would write so, 
 and think it sense.' 
 
 I was glad when General Oglethorpe's arrival was an- 
 nounced, and we left the ladies. Dr. Johnson attended him 
 in the parlour, and was as courteous as ever. 
 
 On Sunday, March 23, I breakfasted with Dr. Johnson, 
 who seemed much relieved, having taken opium the night 
 before. He however protested against it, as a remedy that 
 should be given with the utmost reluctance, and only in ex- 
 treme necessity. I mentioned how commonly it was used in 
 Turkey, and that therefore it could not be so pernicious as 
 he apprehended. He grew warm and said, 'Turks take 
 opium, and Christians take opium; but Russel, in his Ac- 
 count of Aleppo, tells us, that it is as disgraceful in Turkey 
 to take too much opium, as it is with us to get drunk. Sir, 
 it is amazing how things are exaggerated. A gentleman was 
 lately telling in a company where I was present, that in 
 France as soon as a man of fashion marries, he takes an 
 opera girl into keeping; and this he mentioned as a general 
 custom. "Pray, Sir, (said I,) how many opera girls may 
 there be?" He answered, "About fourscore." "Well then, 
 
 1 March 22. ED.
 
 480 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 Sir, (said I,) you see there can be no more than fourscore 
 men of fashion who can do this.'" 
 
 Mrs. Desmoulins made tea; and she and I talked before 
 him upon a topick which he had once borne patiently from 
 me when we were by ourselves, his not complaining of the 
 world, because he was not called to some great office, nor 
 had attained to great wealth. He flew into a violent pas- 
 sion, I confess with some justice, and commanded us to 
 have done. 'Nobody, (said he,) has a right to talk in this 
 manner, to bring before a man his own character, and the 
 events of his life, when he does not choose it should be done. 
 I never have sought the world; the world was not to seek 
 me. It is rather wonderful that so much has been done for 
 me. All the complaints which are made of the world are 
 unjust. I never knew a man of merit neglected: it was 
 generally by his own fault that he failed of success. A man 
 may hide his head in a hole: he may go into the country, 
 and publish a book now and then, which nobody reads, and 
 then complain he is neglected. There is no reason why any 
 person should exert himself for a man who has written a 
 good book: he has not written it for any individual. I may 
 as well make a present to the postman who brings me a 
 letter. When patronage was limited, an authour expected 
 to find a Maecenas, and complained if he did not find one. 
 Why should he complain? This Maecenas has others as 
 good as he, or others who have got the start of him.' 
 
 On the subject of the right employment of wealth, Johnson 
 observed, 'A man cannot make a bad use of his money, so 
 far as regards Society, if he does not hoard it; for if he either 
 spends it or lends it out, Society has the benefit. It is in 
 general better to spend money than to give it away; for in- 
 dustry is more promoted by spending money than by giving 
 it away. A man who spends his money is sure he is doing 
 good with it: he is not so sure when he gives it away. A 
 man who spends ten thousand a year will do more good than 
 a man who spends two thousand and gives away eight.' 
 
 In the evening I came to him again. He was somewhat 
 fretful from his illness. A gentleman asked him, whether he 
 had been abroad to-day. ' Don't talk so childishly, (said he.)
 
 1783] GOLDSMITH'S BLUNDER 481 
 
 You may as well ask if I hanged myself to-day.' I men- 
 tioned politicks. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I'd as soon have a man 
 to break my bones as talk to me of publick affairs, internal 
 or external. I have lived to see things all as bad as they 
 can be.' 
 
 He said, 'Goldsmith's blundering speech to Lord Shel- 
 burne, which has been so often mentioned, and which he 
 really did make to him, was only a blunder in emphasis: 
 "I wonder they should call your Lordship Malagrida, for 
 Malagrida was a very good man;" meant, I wonder they 
 should use Malagrida as a term of reproach.' 
 
 Soon after this time I had an opportunity of seeing, by 
 means of one of his friends, a proof that his talents, as well 
 as his obliging service to authours, were ready as ever. He 
 had revised The Village, an admirable poem, by the Reverend 
 Mr. Crabbe. Its sentiments as to the false notions of rus- 
 tick happiness and rustick virtue were quite congenial with 
 his own; and he had taken the trouble not only to suggest 
 slight corrections and variations, but to furnish some lines, 
 when he thought he could give the writer's meaning better 
 than in the words of the manuscript. 
 
 On Sunday, March 30, 1 found him at home in the evening, 
 and had the pleasure to meet with Dr. Brocklesby, whose 
 reading, and knowledge of life, and good spirits, supply him 
 with a never-failing source of conversation. 
 
 I shall here insert a few of Johnson's sayings, without the 
 formality of dates, as they have no reference to any par- 
 ticular time or place. 
 
 'The more a man extends and varies his acquaintance the 
 better.' This, however, was meant with a just restriction; 
 for, he on another occasion said to me, 'Sir, a man may be 
 so much of every thing, that he is nothing of any thing.' 
 
 'It is a very good custom to keep a journal for a man's 
 own use; he may write upon a card a day all that is neces- 
 sary to be written, after he has had experience of life. At 
 first there is a great deal to be written, because there is a 
 great deal of novelty; but when once a man has settled his 
 opinions, there is seldom much to be set down.' 
 
 Talking of an acquaintance of ours, whose narratives,
 
 482 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 which abounded in curious and interesting topicks, were un- 
 happily found to be very fabulous; I mentioned Lord Mans- 
 field's having said to me, 'Suppose we believe one half of 
 what he tells.' JOHNSON. 'Ay; but we don't know which 
 half to believe. By his lying we lose not only our reverence 
 for him, but all comfort in his conversation.' BOSWELL. 
 'May we not take it as amusing fiction?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 the misfortune is, that you will insensibly believe as much of 
 it as you incline to believe.' 
 
 It is remarkable, that notwithstanding their congeniality 
 in politicks, he never was acquainted with a late eminent 
 noble judge, whom I have heard speak of him as a writer, 
 with great respect. Johnson, I know not upon what degree 
 of investigation, entertained no exalted opinion of his Lord- 
 ship's intellectual character. Talking of him to me one day, 
 he said, 'It is wonderful, Sir, with how little real superiority 
 of mind men can make an eminent figure in publick life.' He 
 expressed himself to the same purpose concerning another 
 law-Lord, who, it seems, once took a fancy to associate with 
 the wits of London; but with so little success, that Foote 
 said, 'What can he mean by coming among us? He is not 
 only dull himself, but the cause of dullness in others.' Try- 
 ing him by the test of his colloquial powers, Johnson had 
 found him very defective. He once said to Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, 'This man now has been ten years about town, and 
 has made nothing of it;' meaning as a companion. He said 
 to me, 'I never heard any thing from him in company that 
 was at all striking; and depend upon it, Sir, it is when you 
 come close to a man in conversation, that you discover what 
 his real abilities are; to make a speech in a publick assembly 
 is a knack. Now I honour Thurlow, Sir; Thurlow is a fine 
 fellow; he fairly puts his mind to yours.' 
 
 After repeating to him some of his pointed, lively sayings, 
 I said, 'It is a pity, Sir, you don't always remember your 
 own good things, that you may have a laugh when you will.' 
 JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is better that I forget them, that I 
 may be reminded of them, and have a laugh on their being 
 brought to my recollection.' 
 
 When I recalled to him his having said as we sailed up
 
 1783] INSCRIPTION ON JOHNSON'S PORTRAIT 483 
 
 Loch-lomond, 'That if he wore any thing fine, it should be 
 very fine;' I observed that all his thoughts were upon a great 
 scale. JOHNSON. ' Depend upon it, Sir, every man will have 
 as fine a thing as he can get; as a large diamond for his ring.' 
 BOSWELL. 'Pardon me, Sir: a man of a narrow mind will 
 not think of it, a slight trinket will satisfy him: 
 
 "Nee sufferre queat mqjoris pondera gemmae.'" 
 
 I told him I should send him some Essays which I had 
 written, which I hoped he would be so good as to read, and 
 pick out the good ones. JOHNSON. ' Nay, Sir, send me only 
 the good ones; don't make me pick them.' 
 
 As a small proof of his kindliness and delicacy of feeling, 
 the following circumstance may be mentioned: One evening 
 when we were in the street together, and I told him I was 
 going to sup at Mr. Beauclerk's, he said, 'I'll go with you/ 
 After having walked part of the way, seeming to recollect 
 something, he suddenly stopped and said, ' I cannot go, but 
 / do not love Beauderk the less.' 
 
 On the frame of his portrait, Mr. Beauclerk had inscribed, 
 
 Ingenium ingens 
 
 Inculto latet hoc sub corpore.' 
 
 After Mr. Beauclerk's death, when it became Mr. Langton's 
 property, he made the inscription be defaced. Johnson said 
 complacently, 'It was kind in you to take it off;' and then 
 after a short pause, added, 'and not unkind in him to put 
 it on.' 
 
 He said, 'How few of his friends' houses would a man 
 choose to be at when he is sick.' He mentioned one or two. 
 I recollect only Thrale's. 
 
 He observed, ' There is a wicked inclination in most people 
 to suppose an old man decayed in his intellects. If a young 
 or middle-aged man, when leaving a company, does not 
 recollect where he laid his hat, it is nothing; but if the same 
 inattention is discovered in an old man, people will shrug up 
 their shoulders, and say, "His memory is going.'"
 
 484 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds communicated to me the following 
 particulars : 
 
 Johnson thought the poems published as translations from 
 Ossian had so little merit, that he said, 'Sir, a man might 
 write such stuff for ever, if he would abandon his mind to it.' 
 
 He said, 'A man should pass a part of his time with the 
 laughers, by which means any thing ridiculous or particular 
 about him might be presented to his view, and corrected.' 
 I observed, he must have been a bold laugher who would 
 have ventured to tell Dr. Johnson of any of his particu- 
 larities. 1 
 
 Dr. Goldsmith said once to Dr. Johnson, that he wished 
 for some additional members to THE LITERARY CLUB, to give 
 it an agreeable variety; for (said he,) there can now be 
 nothing new among us : we have travelled over one another's 
 minds. Johnson seemed a little angry, and said, 'Sir, you 
 have not travelled over my mind, I promise you.' Sir 
 Joshua, however, thought Goldsmith right; observing, that 
 'when people have lived a great deal together, they know 
 what each of them will say on every subject. A new under- 
 standing, therefore, is desirable; because though it may 
 only furnish the same sense upon a question which would 
 have been furnished by those with whom we are accustomed 
 to live, yet this sense will have a different colouring; and 
 colouring is of much effect in every thing else as well as in 
 painting.' 
 
 Johnson used to say that he made it a constant rule to talk 
 as well as he could both as to sentiment and expression, by 
 which means, what had been originally effort became familiar 
 and easy. The consequence of this, Sir Joshua observed, 
 was, that his common conversation in all companies was 
 such as to secure him universal attention, as something 
 above the usual colloquial style was expected. 
 
 1 1 am happy, however, to mention a pleasing instance of his enduring 
 with great gentleness to hear one of his most striking particularities 
 pointed out: Miss Hunter, a niece of his friend Christopher Smart, 
 when a very young girl, struck by his extraordinary motions, said to 
 him, ' Pray, Dr. Johnson, why do you make such strange gestures ? ' 
 'Prom bad habit,' he replied. 'Do you, my dear, take care to guard 
 against bad habits.' This I was told by the young lady's brother at 
 Margate. Bos WELL.
 
 1783] DEXTERITY IN RETORT 485 
 
 Yet, though Johnson had this habit in company, when 
 another mode was necessary, in order to investigate truth, 
 he could descend to a language intelligible to the meanest 
 capacity. An instance of this was witnessed by Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds, when they were present at an examination of 
 a little blackguard boy, by Mr. Saunders Welch, the late 
 Westminster Justice. Welch, who imagined that he was 
 exalting himself in Dr. Johnson's eyes by using big words, 
 spoke in a manner that was utterly unintelligible to the boy ; 
 Dr. Johnson perceiving it, addressed himself to the boy, and 
 changed the pompous phraseology into colloquial language. 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was much amused by this pro- 
 cedure, which seemed a kind of reversing of what might have 
 been expected from the two men, took notice of it to Dr. 
 Johnson, as they walked away by themselves. Johnson 
 said, that it was continually the case; and that he was 
 always obliged to translate the Justice's swelling diction, 
 (smiling,) so as that his meaning might be understood by the 
 vulgar, from whom information was to be obtained, ' 
 
 Sir Joshua once observed to him, that he had talked above 
 the capacity of some people with whom they had been in 
 company together. 'No matter, Sir, (said Johnson;) they 
 consider it as a compliment to be talked to, as if they were 
 wiser than they are. So true is this, Sir, that Baxter made 
 it a rule in every sermon that he preached, to say something 
 that was above the capacity of his audience.' 
 
 Johnson's dexterity in retort, when he seemed to be driven 
 to an extremity by his adversary, was very remarkable. Of 
 his power in this respect, our common friend, Mr. Windham, 
 of Norfolk, has been pleased to furnish me with an eminent 
 instance. However unfavourable to Scotland, he uniformly 
 gave liberal praise to George Buchanan, as a writer. In 
 a conversation concerning the literary merits of the two 
 countries, in which Buchanan was introduced, a Scotchman, 
 imagining that on this ground he should have an undoubted 
 triumph over him, exclaimed, 'Ah, Dr. Johnson, what would 
 you have said of Buchanan, had he been an Englishman?' 
 'Why, Sir, (said Johnson, after a little pause,) I should not 
 have said of Buchanan, had he been an Englishman, what
 
 486 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 I will now say of him as a Scotchman, that he was the only 
 man of genius his country ever produced.' 
 
 Though his usual phrase for conversation was talk, yet he 
 made a distinction; for when he once told me that he dined 
 the day before at a friend's house, with 'a very pretty com- 
 pany;' and I asked him if there was good conversation, he 
 answered, 'No, Sir; we had talk enough, but no conversation; 
 there was nothing discussed.' 
 
 Such was his sensibility, and so much was he affected by 
 pathetick poetry, that, when he was reading Dr. Beattie's 
 Hermit in my presence, it brought tears into his eyes. 
 
 Mr. Hoole told him, he was born in Moorfields, and had 
 received part of his early instruction in Grub-street. 'Sir, 
 (said Johnson, smiling,) you have been regularly educated.' 
 Having asked who was his instructor, and Mr. Hoole having 
 answered, 'My uncle, Sir, who was a taylor;' Johnson, recol- 
 lecting himself, said, 'Sir, I knew him; we called him the 
 metaphysical taylor. He was of a club in Old-street, with 
 me and George Psalmanazar, and some others: but pray, 
 Sir, was he a good taylor ? ' Mr. Hoole having answered that 
 he believed he was too mathematical, and used to draw 
 squares and triangles on his shop-board, so that he did not 
 excel in the cut of a coat; 'I am sorry for it (said Johnson,) 
 for I would have every man to be master of his own business.' 
 
 In pleasant reference to himself and Mr. Hoole, as brother 
 authours, he often said, 'Let you and I, Sir, go together, and 
 eat a beef -steak in Grub-street.' 
 
 He said to Sir William Scott, 'The age is running mad 
 after innovation; all the business of the world is to be done 
 in a new way; men are to be hanged in a new way; Tyburn 
 itself is not safe from the fury of innovation.' It having 
 been argued that this was an improvement, 'No, Sir, (said 
 he, eagerly,) it is not an improvement: they object that the 
 old method drew together a number of spectators. Sir, 
 executions are intended to draw spectators. If they do not 
 draw spectators they don't answer their purpose. The old 
 method was most satisfactory to all parties; the publick 
 was gratified by a procession; the criminal was supported 
 by it. Why is all this to be swept away?' I perfectly agree
 
 1783] PRECISION IN EXPRESSION 487 
 
 with Dr. Johnson upon this head, and am persuaded that 
 executions now, the solemn procession being discontinued, 
 have not nearly the effect which they formerly had. Magis- 
 trates both in London, and elsewhere, have, I am afraid, in 
 this had too much regard to their own ease. 
 
 Johnson's attention to precision and clearness in expres- 
 sion was very remarkable. He disapproved of parentheses; 
 and I believe in all his voluminous writings, not half a dozen 
 of them will be found. He never used the phrases the former 
 and the latter, having observed, that they often occasioned 
 obscurity; he therefore contrived to construct his sentences 
 so as not to have occasion for them, and would even rather 
 repeat the same words, in order to avoid them. Nothing is 
 more common than to mistake surnames when we hear them 
 carelessly uttered for the first time. To prevent this, he 
 used not only to pronounce them slowly and distinctly, but 
 to take the trouble of spelling them; a practice which I have 
 often followed; and which I wish were general. 
 
 Such was the heat and irritability of his blood, that not 
 only did he pare his nails to the quick; but scraped the 
 joints of his fingers with a pen-knife, till they seemed quite 
 red and raw. 
 
 The heterogeneous composition of human nature was re- 
 markably exemplified in Johnson. His liberality in giving 
 his money to persons in distress was extraordinary. Yet 
 there lurked about him a propensity to paultry saving. One 
 day I owned to him that 'I was occasionally troubled with 
 a fit of narrowness.' 'Why, Sir, (said he,) so am I. But I do 
 not tell it.' He has now and then borrowed a shilling of me; 
 and when I asked for it again, seemed to be rather out of 
 humour. A droll little circumstance once occurred: as if 
 he meant to reprimand my minute exactness as a creditor, 
 he thus addressed me; 'Bos well, lend me sixpence not to 
 be repaid.' 
 
 This great man's attention to small things was very re- 
 markable. As an instance of it, he one day said to me, 'Sir, 
 when you get silver in change for a guinea, look carefully at 
 it; you may find some curious piece of coin.' 
 
 Though a stern true-born Englishman, and fully prejudiced
 
 488 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [i78 
 
 against all other nations, he had discernment enough to see, 
 and candour enough to censure, the cold reserve too common 
 among Englishmen towards strangers: 'Sir, (said he,) two 
 men of any other nation who are shewn into a room together, 
 at a house where they are both visitors, will immediately find 
 some conversation. But two Englishmen will probably go 
 each to a different window, and remain in obstinate silence. 
 Sir, we as yet do not enough understand the common rights 
 of humanity.' 
 
 Johnson, for sport perhaps, or from the spirit of contra- 
 diction, eagerly maintained that Derrick had merit as a 
 writer. Mr. Morgann 1 argued with him directly, in vain. 
 At length he had recourse to this device. ' Pray, Sir, (said 
 he,) whether do you reckon Derrick or Smart the best poet?' 
 Johnson at once felt himself roused; and answered, 'Sir, 
 there is no settling the point of precedency between a louse 
 and a flea.' 
 
 He was pleased to say to me one morning when we were 
 left alone in his study, 'Boswell, I think I am easier with 
 you than with almost any body.' 
 
 He would not allow Mr. David Hume any credit for his 
 political principles, though similar to his own; saying of 
 him, ^Sir, he was a Tory by chance/ 
 
 His acute observation of human life made him remark, 
 'Sir, there is nothing by which a man exasperates most 
 people more, than by displaying a superiour ability or bril- 
 liancy in conversation. They seem pleased at the time; 
 but their envy makes them curse him in their hearts.' 
 
 Johnson's love of little children, which he discovered upon 
 all occasions, calling them 'pretty dears,' and giving them 
 sweetmeats, was an undoubted proof of the real humanity 
 and gentleness of his disposition. 
 
 His uncommon kindness to his servants, and serious con- 
 cern, not only for their comfort in this world, but their hap- 
 piness in the next, was another unquestionable evidence of 
 what all, who were intimately acquainted with him, knew 
 to be true. 
 
 Nor would it be just, under this head, to omit the fondness 
 
 1 Author of the Essay on the Character of Falstaff. ED.
 
 1783] HIS CAT, HODGE 489 
 
 which he shewed for animals which he had taken under his 
 protection. I never shall forget the indulgence with which he 
 treated Hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out 
 and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should 
 take a dislike to the poor creature. I am, unluckily, one of 
 those who have an antipathy to a cat, so that I am uneasy 
 when in the room with one; and I own, I frequently suffered 
 a good deal from the presence of this same Hodge. I recol- 
 lect him one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson's breast, appar- 
 ently with much satisfaction, while my friend smiling and 
 half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and pulled him by the 
 tail; and when I observed he was a fine cat, saying, 'Why 
 yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this;' 
 and then as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, 
 adding, 'but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.' 
 
 This reminds me of the ludicrous account which he gave 
 Mr. Langton, of the despicable state of a young Gentleman 
 of good family. 'Sir, when I heard of him last, he was run- 
 ning about town shooting cats.' And then in a sort of kindly 
 reverie, he bethought himself of his own favourite cat, and 
 said, 'But Hodge shan't be shot; no, no, Hodge shall not be 
 shot.' 
 
 On Thursday, April 10, I introduced to him, at his house 
 in Bolt-court, the Honourable and Reverend William Stuart, 
 son of the Earl of Bute; a gentleman truly worthy of being 
 known to Johnson; being, with all the advantages of high 
 birth, learning, travel, and elegant manners, an exemplary 
 parish priest in every respect. 
 
 After some compliments on both sides, the tour which 
 Johnson and I had made to the Hebrides was mentioned. 
 JOHNSON. 'I got an acquisition of more ideas by it than by 
 any thing that I remember. I saw quite a different system 
 of life.' BOSWELL. 'You would not like to make the same 
 journey again?' JOHNSON. 'Why no, Sir; not the same: 
 it is a tale told. Gravina, an Italian critick, observes, that 
 every man desires to see that of which he has read; but no 
 man desires to read an account of what he has seen: so 
 much does description fall short of reality. Description only 
 excites curiosity: seeing satisfies it. Other people may go
 
 490 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 and see the Hebrides.' BOSWELL. 'I should wish to go and 
 see some country totally different from what I have been 
 used to; such as Turkey, where religion and every thing 
 else are different.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; there are two 
 objects of curiosity, the Christian world, and the Ma- 
 hometan world. All the rest may be considered as bar- 
 barous.' BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, is the Turkish Spy a gen- 
 uine book?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. Mrs. Manley, in her 
 Life, says that her father wrote the first two volumes: and 
 in another book, Dunton's Life and Errours, we find that the 
 rest was written by one Sault, at two guineas a sheet, under 
 the direction of Dr. Midgeley.' 
 
 About this time he wrote to Mrs. Lucy Porter, mention- 
 ing his bad health, and that he intended a visit to Lichfield. 
 'It is, (says he,) with no great expectation of amendment 
 that I make every year a journey into the country; but it 
 is pleasant to visit those whose kindness has been often 
 experienced.' 
 
 On April 18, (being Good-Friday,) I found him at break- 
 fast, in his usual manner upon that day, drinking tea with- 
 out milk, and eating a cross-bun to prevent faintness; we 
 went to St. Clement's church, as formerly. When we came 
 home from church, he placed himself on one of the stone- 
 seats at his garden-door, and I took the other, and thus in 
 the open air and in a placid frame of mind, he talked away 
 very easily. JOHNSON. 'Were I a country gentleman, I 
 should not be very hospitable, I should not have crowds 
 in my house.' BOSWELL. 'Sir Alexander Dick tells me, 
 that he remembers having a thousand people in a year to 
 dine at his house: that is, reckoning each person as one, 
 each time that he dined there.' JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, is 
 about three a day.' BOSWELL. 'How your statement 
 lessens the idea.' JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, is the good of 
 counting. It brings every thing to a certainty, which before 
 floated in the mind indefinitely.' 
 
 BOSWELL. 'I wish to have a good walled garden.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'I don't think it would be worth the expence to you. 
 We compute in England, a park wall at a thousand pounds 
 a mile; now a garden-wall must cost at least as much. You
 
 1783] GARDENS AND ORCHARDS 491 
 
 intend your trees should grow higher than a deer will leap. 
 Now let us see; for a hundred pounds you could only have 
 forty-four square yards, which is very little; for two hun- 
 dred pounds, you may have eighty-four square yards, which 
 is very well. But when will you get the value of two hundred 
 pounds of walls, in fruit, in your climate? No, Sir, such 
 contention with Nature is not worth while. I would plant 
 an orchard, and have plenty of such fruit as ripen well in 
 your country. My friend, Dr. Madden, of Ireland, said, 
 that "in an orchard there should be enough to eat, enough 
 to lay up, enough to be stolen, and enough to rot upon the 
 ground." Cherries are an early fruit, you may have them; 
 and you may have the early apples and pears.' BOSWELL. 
 'We cannot have nonpareils.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you can no 
 more have nonpareils than you can have grapes.' BOSWELL. 
 'We have them, Sir; but they are very bad.' JOHNSON. 
 ' Nay, Sir, never try to have a thing merely to shew that you 
 cannot have it. From ground that would let for forty shil- 
 lings you may have a large orchard; and you see it costs you 
 only forty shillings. Nay, you may graze the ground when 
 the trees are grown up; you cannot while they are young.' 
 BOSWELL. 'Is not a good garden a very common thing in 
 England, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Not so common, Sir, as you 
 imagine. In Lincolnshire there is hardly an orchard; in 
 Staffordshire very little fruit.' BOSWELL. 'Has Langton 
 no orchard?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'How so, 
 Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, from the general negligence 
 of the county. He has it not, because nobody else has it.' 
 BOSWELL. 'A hot-house is a certain thing; I may have 
 that.' JOHNSON. 'A hot-house is pretty certain; but you 
 must first build it, then you must keep fires in it, and you 
 must have a gardener to take care of it.' BOSWELL. 'But 
 if I have a gardener at any rate ? ' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes.' 
 BOSWELL. 'I'd have it near my house; there is no need to 
 have it in the orchard.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, I'd have it near 
 my house. I would plant a great many currants; the fruit 
 is good, and they make a pretty sweetmeat.' 
 
 I record this minute detail, which some may think trifling, 
 in order to shew clearly how this great man, whose mind
 
 492 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1733 
 
 could grasp such large and extensive subjects, as he has 
 shewn in his literary labours, was yet well-informed in the 
 common affairs of life, and loved to illustrate them. 
 
 Talking of the origin of language; JOHNSON. 'It must 
 have come by inspiration. A thousand, nay, a million of 
 children could not invent a language. While the organs are 
 pliable, there is not understanding enough to form a language; 
 by the time that there is understanding enough, the organs 
 are become stiff. We know that after a certain age we 
 cannot learn to pronounce a new language. No foreigner, 
 who comes to England when advanced in life, ever pro- 
 nounces English tolerably well; at least such instances are 
 very rare. When I maintain that language must have come 
 by inspiration, I do not mean that inspiration is required 
 for rhetorick, and all the beauties of language; for when 
 once man has language, we can conceive that he may gradu- 
 ally form modifications of it. I mean only that inspiration 
 seems to me to be necessary to give man the faculty of speech; 
 to inform him that he may have speech; which I think he 
 could no more find out without inspiration, than cows or 
 hogs would think of such a faculty.' WALKER. 'Do you 
 think, Sir, that there are any perfect synonimes in any lan- 
 guage?' JOHNSON. 'Originally there were not; but by 
 using words negligently, or in poetry, one word comes to be 
 confounded with another.' 
 
 He talked of Dr. Dodd. 'A friend of mine, (said he,) 
 came to me and told me, that a lady wished to have Dr. 
 Dodd's picture in a bracelet, and asked me for a motto. I 
 said, I could think of no better than Currat Lex. I was very 
 willing to have him pardoned, that is, to have the sentence 
 changed to transportation: but, when he was once hanged, 
 I did not wish he should be made a saint.' 
 
 Mrs. Burney, wife of his friend Dr. Burney, came in, and 
 he seemed to be entertained with her conversation. 
 
 Garrick's funeral was talked of as extravagantly expen- 
 sive. Johnson, from his dislike to exaggeration, would not 
 allow that it was distinguished by any extraordinary pomp. 
 ' Were there not six horses to each coach ? ' said Mrs. Burney. 
 JOHNSON. 'Madam, there were no more six horses than 
 six phoenixes.'
 
 1783] BIRTHS AND DEATHS IN LONDON 493 
 
 Time passed on in conversation till it was too late for 
 the service of the church at three o'clock. I took a walk, 
 and left him alone for some time; then returned, and we 
 had coffee and conversation again by ourselves. 
 
 We went to evening prayers at St. Clement's, at seven, 
 and then parted. 
 
 On Sunday, April 20, being Easter-day, after attending 
 solemn service at St. Paul's, I came to Dr. Johnson, and found 
 Mr. Lowe, the painter, sitting with him. Mr. Lowe men- 
 tioned the great number of new buildings of late in London, 
 yet that Dr. Johnson had observed, that the number of in- 
 habitants was not increased. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, the bills 
 of mortality prove that no more people die now than for- 
 merly; so it is plain no more live. The register of births 
 proves nothing, for not one tenth of the people of London 
 are born there.' BOSWELL. 'I believe, Sir, a great many of 
 the children born in London die early.' JOHNSON. 'Why, 
 yes, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'But those who do live, are as stout 
 and strong people as any: Dr. Price says, they must be 
 naturally stronger to get through.' JOHNSON. 'That is 
 system, Sir. A great traveller observes, that it is said there 
 are no weak or deformed people among the Indians; but he 
 with much sagacity assigns the reason of this, which is, that 
 the hardship of their life as hunters and fishers does not allow 
 weak or diseased children to grow up. Now had I been an 
 Indian, I must have died early; my eyes would not have 
 served me to get food. I indeed now could fish, give me. 
 English tackle ; but had I been an Indian I must have starved, 
 or they would have knocked me on the head, when they saw 
 I could do nothing.' BOSWELL. 'Perhaps they would have 
 taken care of you : we are told they are fond of oratory, you 
 would have talked to them.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I should 
 not have lived long enough to be fit to talk; I should have 
 been dead before I was ten years old. Depend upon it, Sir,, 
 a savage, when he is hungry, will not carry about with him 
 a looby of nine years old, who cannot help himself. They 
 have no affection, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'I believe natural affec- 
 tion, of which we hear so much, is very small.' JOHNSON. 
 'Sir, natural affection is nothing: but affection from prin- 
 ciple and established duty is sometimes wonderfully strong.'
 
 494 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1733 
 
 LOWE. 'A hen, Sir, will feed her chickens in preference to 
 herself.' JOHNSON. 'But we don't know that the hen is 
 hungry; let the hen be fairly hungry, and I'll warrant she'll 
 peck the corn herself. A cock, I believe, will feed hens in- 
 stead of himself; but we don't know that the cock is hun- 
 gry.' BOSWELL. 'And that, Sir, is not from affection but 
 gallantry. But some of the Indians have affection.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'Sir, that they help some of their children is plain; for 
 some of them live, which they could not do without being 
 helped.' 
 
 I dined with him; the company were, Mrs. Williams, Mrs. 
 Desmoulins, and Mr. Lowe. He seemed not to be well, 
 talked little, grew drowsy soon after dinner, and retired, 
 upon which I went away. 
 
 Having next day gone to Mr. Burke's seat in the country, 
 from whence I was recalled by an express, that a near rela- 
 tion of mine had killed his antagonist in a duel, and was him- 
 self dangerously wounded, I saw little of Dr. Johnson till 
 Monday, April 28, when I spent a considerable part of the 
 day with him, and introduced the subject, which then chiefly 
 occupied my mind. JOHNSON. 'I do not see, Sir, that 
 fighting is absolutely forbidden in Scripture; I see revenge 
 forbidden, but not self-defence.' BOSWELL. 'The Quakers 
 say it is; "Unto him that smiteth thee on one cheek, offer 
 him also the other." ' JOHNSON. 'But stay, Sir; the text Is 
 meant only to have the effect of moderating passion; it is 
 plain that we are not to take it in a literal sense. We see 
 this from the context, where there are other recommenda- 
 tions, which I warrant you the Quaker will not take literally; 
 as, for instance, "From him that would borrow of thee, turn 
 thou not away." Let a man whose credit is bad, come to a 
 Quaker, and say, "Well, Sir, lend me a hundred pounds;" 
 he'll find him as unwilling as any other man. No, Sir, a 
 man may shoot the man who invades his character, as he 
 may shoot him who attempts to break into his house. 1 So in 
 
 I 1 think it necessary to caution my readers against concluding that 
 in this or any other conversation of Dr. Johnson, they have his serious 
 and deliberate opinion on the subject of duelling. In my Journal of 
 a Tour to the Hebrides, 3rd edit. p. 386 (p. 366. Oct. 24], it appears that 
 he made this frank confession: 'Nobody at times, talks more laxly
 
 1783] RELIGION 495 
 
 1745, my friend, Tom Gumming, the Quaker, said, he would 
 not fight, but he would drive an ammunition cart; and we 
 know that the Quakers have sent flannel waistcoats to our 
 soldiers, to enable them to fight better.' BOSWELL. 'When 
 a man is the aggressor, and by ill-usage forces on a duel in 
 which he is killed, have we not little ground to hope that he 
 is gone into a state of happiness?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we are 
 not to judge determinately of the state in which a man leaves 
 this life. He may in a moment, have repented effectually, 
 and it is possible may have been accepted by GOD.' 
 
 Upon being told that old Mr. Sheridan, indignant at the 
 neglect of his oratorical plans, had threatened to go to 
 America; JOHNSON. 'I hope he will go to America.' BOS- 
 WELL. 'The Americans don't want oratory.' JOHNSON. 
 'But we can want Sheridan.' 
 
 On Monday, April 29, 1 found him at home in the forenoon, 
 and Mr. Seward with him. Horace having been mentioned; 
 BOSWELL. 'There is a great deal of thinking in his works. 
 One finds there almost every thing but religion.' SEWARD. 
 'He speaks of his returning to it, in his Ode Parcus Deorum 
 cultor et infrequens.' 1 JOHNSON. 'Sir, he was not in earnest: 
 this was merely poetical.' BOSWELL. 'There are, I am 
 afraid, many people who have no religion at all.' SEWARD. 
 'And sensible people too.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, not sensi- 
 ble in that respect. There must be either a natural or a 
 moral stupidity, if one lives in a total neglect of so very im- 
 portant a concern.' SEWARD. 'I wonder that there should 
 be people without religion.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you need not 
 wonder at this, when you consider how large a proportion of 
 almost every man's life is passed without thinking of it. 
 I myself was for some years totally regardless of religion. It 
 had dropped out of my mind. It was at an early part of my 
 life. Sickness brought it back, and I hope I have never lost 
 it since.' BOSWELL. 'My dear Sir, what a man must you 
 have been without religion ! Why you must have gone on 
 drinking, and swearing, and ' JOHNSON (with a smile,) 
 
 than I do;' and, ib., p. 231 [Sept. 19, 17731, 'He fairly owned he could 
 not explain the rationality of duelling.' We may, therefore, infer, that 
 he could not think that justifiable, which seems so inconsistent with 
 the spirit of the Gospel. BOSWELL.
 
 496 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 'I drank enough and swore enough, to be sure.' SEWARD. 
 ' One should think that sickness and the view of death would 
 make more men religious.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, they do not 
 know how to go about it: they have not the first notion. 
 A man who has never had religion before, no more grows 
 religious when he is sick, than a man who has never learnt 
 figures can count when he has need of calculation.' 
 
 I mentioned Dr. Johnson's excellent distinction between 
 liberty of conscience and liberty of teaching. JOHNSON. 
 'Consider, Sir; if you have children whom you wish to edu- 
 cate in the principles of the Church of England, and there 
 comes a Quaker who tries to pervert them to his principles, 
 you would drive away the Quaker. You would not trust to 
 the predomination of right, which you believe is in your 
 opinions; you would keep wrong out of their heads. Now 
 the vulgar are- the children of the State. If any one attempts 
 to teach them doctrines contrary to what the State approves, 
 the magistrate may and ought to restrain him.' SEWARD. 
 'Would you restrain private conversation, Sir?' JOHNSON. 
 'Why, Sir, it is difficult to say where private conversation 
 begins, and where it ends. If we three should discuss even 
 the great question concerning the existence of a Supreme 
 Being by ourselves, we should not be restrained; for that 
 would be to put an end to all improvement. But if we 
 should discuss it in the presence of ten boarding-school girls, 
 and as many boys, I think the magistrate would do well to 
 put us in the stocks, to finish the debate there.' 
 
 'How false (said he,) is all this, to say that in ancient 
 times learning was not a disgrace to a Peer as it is now. In 
 ancient times a Peer was as ignorant as any one else. He 
 would have been angry to have it thought he could write 
 his name. Men in ancient times dared to stand forth with 
 a degree of ignorance with which nobody would dare now 
 to stand forth. I am always angry when I hear ancient 
 times praised at the expence of modern times. There is 
 now a great deal more learning in the world than there was 
 formerly; for it is universally diffused. You have, perhaps, 
 no man who knows as much Greek and Latin as Bentley; 
 no man who knows as much mathematicks as Newton: but
 
 1783] THE DIFFUSION OF LEARNING 497 
 
 you have many more men who know Greek and Latin, and 
 who know mathematicks.' 
 
 On Thursday, May 1, I visited him in the evening along 
 with young Mr. Burke. He said, 'It is strange that there 
 should be so little reading in the world, and so much writing. 
 People in general do not willingly read, if they can have any 
 thing else to amuse them. There must be an external im- 
 pulse ; emulation, or vanity, or avarice. The progress which 
 the understanding makes through a book, has more pain than 
 pleasure in it. Language is scanty, and inadequate to ex- 
 press the nice gradations and mixtures of our feelings. No 
 man reads a book of science from pure inclination. The 
 books that we do read with pleasure are light compositions, 
 which contain a quick succession of events. However, I have 
 this year read all Virgil through. I read a book of the Mneid 
 every night, so it was done in twelve nights, and I had great 
 delight in it. The Georgicks did not give me so much plea- 
 sure, except the fourth book. The Edogws I have almost all 
 by heart. I do not think the story of the JEndd interesting. 
 I like the story of the Odyssey much better; and this not on 
 account of the wonderful things which it contains; for there 
 are wonderful things enough in the Mndd; the ships of 
 the Trojans turned to sea-nymphs, the tree at Polydorus's 
 tomb dropping blood. The story of the Odyssey is interest- 
 ing, as a great part of it is domestick. It has been said, there 
 is pleasure in writing, particularly in writing verses. I allow 
 you may have pleasure from writing, after it is over, if you 
 have written well; but you don't go willingly to it again. I 
 know when I have been writing verses, I have run my finger 
 down the margin, to see how many I had made, and how few 
 I had to make.' 
 
 He seemed to be in a very placid humour, and although 
 I have no note of the particulars of young Mr. Burke's con- 
 versation, it is but justice to mention in general, that it was 
 such that Dr. Johnson said to me afterwards, 'He did very 
 well indeed; I have a mind to tell his father.' 
 
 I have no minute of any interview with Johnson till Thurs- 
 day, May 15, when I find what follows: BOSWELL. 'I wish 
 much to be in Parliament, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, un-
 
 498 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 less you come resolved to support any administration, you 
 would be the worse for being in Parliament, because you 
 would be obliged to live more expensively.' BOSWELL. 
 ' Perhaps, Sir, I should be the less happy for being in Parlia- 
 ment. I never would sell my vote, and I should be vexed 
 if things went wrong.' JOHNSON. 'That's cant, Sir. It 
 would not vex you more in the house, than in the gallery: 
 publick affairs vex no man.' BOSWELL. 'Have not they 
 vexed yourself a little, Sir? Have not you been vexed by all 
 the turbulence of this reign, and by that absurd vote of the 
 House of Commons, "That the influence of the Crown has 
 increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished?" 
 JOHNSON. 'Sir, I have never slept an hour less, nor eat an 
 ounce less meat. I would have knocked the factious dogs on 
 the head, to be sure; but I was not vexed.' BOSWELL. 'I 
 declare, Sir, upon my honour, I did imagine I was vexed, 
 and took a pride in it; but it was, perhaps, cant; for I own 
 I neither ate less, nor slept less.' JOHNSON. 'My dear 
 friend, clear your mind of cant. You may talk as other 
 people do: you may say to a man, "Sir, I am your most 
 humble servant." You are not his most humble servant. 
 You may say, "These are bad times; it is a melancholy 
 thing to be reserved to such times." You don't mind the 
 times. You tell a man, " I am sorry you had such bad weather 
 the last day of your journey, and were so much wet." You 
 don't care six-pence whether he is wet or dry. You may 
 talk in this manner; it is a mode of talking in Society: but 
 don't think foolishly.' 
 
 Here he discovered a notion common enough in persons 
 not much accustomed to entertain company, that there must 
 be a degree of elaborate attention, otherwise company will 
 think themselves neglected; and such attention is no doubt 
 very fatiguing. He proceeded: 'I would not, however, be 
 a stranger in my own county; I would visit my neighbours, 
 and receive their visits; but I would not be in haste tore- 
 turn visits. If a gentleman comes to see me, I tell him he 
 does me a great deal of honour. I do not go to see him per- 
 haps for ten weeks; then we are very complaisant to each 
 other. No, Sir, you will have much more influence by giving 
 or lending money where it is wanted, than by hospitality.'
 
 1783) MISS BURNEY 499 
 
 On Saturday, May 17, I saw him for a short time. Hav- 
 ing mentioned that I had that morning been with old Mr. 
 Sheridan, he remembered their former intimacy with a cordial 
 warmth, and said to me, 'Tell Mr. Sheridan, I shall be glad 
 to see him, and shake hands with him.' BOSWELL. 'It is to 
 me very wonderful that resentment should be kept up so 
 long.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is not altogether resentment 
 that he does not visit me ; it is partly falling out of the habit, 
 partly disgust, as one has at a drug that has made him 
 sick. Besides, he knows that I laugh at his oratory.' 
 
 Another day I spoke of one of our friends, of whom he, as 
 well as I, had a very high opinion. He expatiated in his 
 praise; but added, 'Sir, he is a cursed Whig, a bottomless 
 Whig, as they all are now/ 
 
 On Monday, May 26, I found him at tea, and the cele- 
 brated Miss Burney, the authour of Evelina and Cecilia, with 
 him. I asked if there would be any speakers in Parliament, 
 if there were no places to be obtained. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. 
 Why do you speak here? Either to instruct and entertain, 
 which is a benevolent motive; or for distinction, which is a 
 selfish motive.' I mentioned Cecilia. JOHNSON, (with an 
 air of animated satisfaction,) ' Sir, if you talk of Cecilia, talk 
 on.' 
 
 We talked of Mr. Barry's exhibition of his pictures. JOHN- 
 SON. 'Whatever the hand may have done, the mind has 
 done its part. There is a grasp of mind there which you 
 find nowhere else.' 
 
 I asked whether a man naturally virtuous, or one who has 
 overcome wicked inclinations, is the best. JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 to you, the man who has overcome wicked inclinations is not 
 the best. He has more merit to himself: I would rather 
 trust my money to a man who has no hands, and so a physi- 
 cal impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest 
 principles. There is a witty satirical story of Foote. He 
 had a small bust of Garrick placed upon his bureau. "You 
 may be surprized (said he,) that I allow him to be so near 
 my gold; but you will observe he has no hands."' 
 
 On Friday, May 29, being to set out for Scotland next 
 morning, I passed a part of the day with him in more than 
 usual earnestness; as his health was in a more precarious
 
 500 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 state than at any time when I had parted from him. He, 
 however, was quick and lively, and critical as usual. I men- 
 tioned one who was a very learned man. JOHNSON. 'Yes, 
 Sir, he has a great deal of learning; but it never lies straight. 
 There is never one idea by the side of another; 'tis all en- 
 tangled: and then he drives it so aukwardly upon conver- 
 sation.' 
 
 He said, 'Get as much force of mind as you can. Live 
 within your income. Always have something saved at the 
 end of the year. Let your imports be more than your ex- 
 ports, and you'll never go far wrong.' 
 
 I assured him, that in the extensive and various range of 
 his acquaintance there never had been any one who had 
 a more sincere respect and affection for him than I had. He 
 said, ' I believe it, Sir. Were I in distress, there is no man to 
 whom I should sooner come than to you. I should like to 
 come and have a cottage in your park, toddle about, live 
 mostly on milk, and be taken care of by Mrs. Boswell. She 
 and I are good friends now; are we not?' 
 
 He embraced me, and gave me his blessing, as usual when 
 I was leaving him for any length of time. I walked from his 
 door to-day, with a fearful apprehension of what might hap- 
 pen before I returned. 
 
 My anxious apprehensions at parting with him this year, 
 proved to be but too well founded; for not long afterwards 
 he had a dreadful stroke of the palsy, of which there are very 
 full and accurate accounts in letters written by himself, to 
 shew with what composure of mind, and resignation to the 
 Divine Will, his steady piety enabled him to behave. 
 
 ilV. ( ! 
 
 'To MB. EDMUND ALLEN. 
 
 *DEAR SIR, It has pleased GOD, this morning, to deprive 
 me of the powers of speech; and as I do not know but that 
 it may be his further good pleasure to deprive me soon of my 
 senses, I request you will on the receipt of this note, come to 
 me, and act for me, as the exigencies of my case may require. 
 I am, sincerely yours, 
 
 'June 17, 1783.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.'
 
 1783] HIS ACCOUNT OF THE SEIZURE 501 
 
 Two days after he wrote thus to Mrs. Thrale: 
 
 'On Monday, the 16th, I sat for my picture, and walked 
 a considerable way with little inconvenience. In the after- 
 noon and evening I felt myself light and easy, and began to 
 plan schemes of life. Thus I went to bed, and in a short 
 time waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, when. 
 I felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, 
 I suppose, about half a minute. I was alarmed, and prayed 
 God, that however he might afflict my body, he would spare 
 my understanding. This prayer, that I might try the in- 
 tegrity of my faculties, I made in Latin verse. The lines 
 were not very good, but I knew them not to be very good: 
 I made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired 
 in my faculties. 
 
 'Soon after I perceived that I had suffered a paralytick 
 stroke, and that my speech was taken from me. I had no 
 pain, and so little dejection in this dreadful state, that I won- 
 dered at my own apathy, and considered that perhaps death 
 itself, when it should come, would excite less horrour than 
 seems now to attend it. 
 
 'In order to rouse the vocal organs, I took two drams. 
 Wine has been celebrated for the production of eloquence. 
 I put myself into violent motion, and I think repeated it; 
 but all was vain. I then went to bed, and strange as it may 
 seem, I think slept. When I saw light, it was time to con- 
 trive what I should do. Though God stopped my speech, he 
 left me my hand; I enjoyed a mercy which was not granted 
 to my dear friend Lawrence, who now perhaps overlooks me 
 as I am writing, and rejoices that I have what he wanted. 
 My first note was necessarily to my servant, who came in 
 talking, and could not immediately comprehend why he. 
 should read what I put into his hands. 
 
 ' I then wrote a card to Mr. Allen, that I might have a dis-- 
 creet friend at hand, to act as occasion should require. In 
 penning this note, I had some difficulty; my hand, I knew 
 not how nor why, made wrong letters. I then wrote to Dr. 
 Taylor to come to me, and bring Dr. Heberden; and I sent, 
 to Dr. Brocklesby, who is my neighbour. My physicians, 
 are very friendly, and give me great hopes; but you may
 
 502 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 imagine my situation. I have so far recovered my vocal 
 powers, as to repeat the Lord's Prayer with no very imper- 
 fect articulation. My memory, I hope, yet remains as it 
 was; but such an attack produces solicitude for the safety 
 of every faculty.' 
 
 'To MR. THOMAS DA VIES. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I have had, indeed, a very heavy blow; but 
 GOD, who yet spares my life, I humbly hope will spare my 
 understanding, and restore my speech. As I am not at all 
 helpless, I want no particular assistance, but am strongly 
 affected by Mrs. Davies's tenderness; and when I think she 
 can do me good, shall be very glad to call upon her. I had 
 ordered friends to be shut out; but one or two have found 
 the way in; and if you come you shall be admitted: for 
 I know not whom I can see, that will bring more amusement 
 on his tongue, or more kindness in his heart. I am, &c. 
 
 'June 18, 1783.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 It gives me great pleasure to preserve such a memorial of 
 Johnson's regard for Mr. Davies, to whom I was indebted for 
 my introduction to him. He indeed loved Davies cordially, 
 of which I shall give the following little evidence. One day 
 when he had treated him with too much asperity, Tom, who 
 was not without pride and spirit, went off in a passion; but 
 he had hardly reached home when Frank, who had been 
 isent after him, delivered this note: 'Come, come, dear 
 Davies, I am always sorry when we quarrel; send me word 
 that we are friends.' 
 
 > Such was the general vigour of his constitution, that he 
 recovered from this alarming and severe attack with won- 
 derful quickness; so that in July he was able to make a visit 
 to Mr. Langton at Rochester, where he passed about a fort- 
 night, and made little excursions as easily as at any time of 
 his life. In August he went as far as the neighbourhood of 
 Salisbury, to Heale, the seat of William Bowles, Esq., a gen- 
 tleman whom I have heard him praise for exemplary relig- 
 ious order in his family. In his diary I find a short but
 
 1783] DEATH OF MRS. WILLIAMS 503 
 
 honourable mention of this visit: 'August 28, I came to 
 Heale without fatigue. 30, I am entertained quite to my 
 mind.' 
 
 While he was here he had a letter from Dr. Brocklesby, 
 acquainting him of the death of Mrs. Williams, which af- 
 fected him a good deal. Though for several years her temper 
 had not been complacent, she had valuable qualities, and 
 her departure left a blank in his house. Upon this occasion 
 he, according to his habitual course of piety, composed a 
 prayer. 
 
 I shall here insert a few particulars concerning him, with 
 which I have been favoured by one of his friends. 
 
 'He spoke often in praise of French literature. "The 
 French are excellent in this, (he would say,) they have a book 
 on every subject." From what he had seen of them he de- 
 nied them the praise of superiour politeness, and mentioned, 
 with very visible disgust, the custom they have of spitting 
 on the floors of their apartments. "This, (said the Doctor), 
 is as gross a thing as can well be done ; and one wonders how 
 any man, or set of men, can persist in so offensive a practice 
 for a whole day together; one should expect that the first 
 effort towards civilization would remove it even among 
 savages.'" 
 
 'Chymistry was always an interesting pursuit with Dr. 
 Johnson. Whilst he was in Wiltshire, he attended some ex- 
 periments that were made by a physician at Salisbury, on 
 the new kinds of air. In the course of the experiments fre- 
 quent mention being made of Dr. Priestley, Dr. Johnson knit 
 his brows, and in a stern manner inquired, "Why do we hear 
 so much of Dr. Priestley? " He was very properly answered, 
 "Sir, because we are indebted to him for these important 
 discoveries." On this Dr. Johnson appeared well content; 
 and replied, "Well, well, I believe we are; and let every man 
 have the honour he has merited."' 
 
 'A friend was one day, about two years before his death, 
 struck with some instance of Dr. Johnson's great candour. 
 "Well, Sir, (said he,) I will always say that you are a very 
 candid man." "Will you, (replied the Doctor,) I doubt then 
 you will be very singular. But, indeed, Sir, (continued he,)
 
 504 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 
 
 I look upon myself to be a man very much misunderstood. 
 I am not an uncandid, nor am I a severe man. I sometimes 
 say more than I mean, in jest; and people are apt to believe 
 me serious: however, I am more candid than I was when 
 I was younger. As I know more of mankind I expect less of 
 them, and am ready now to call a man a good man, upon 
 easier terms than I was formerly.'" 
 
 On his return from Heale he wrote to Dr. Burney: 
 
 'I came home on the 18th at noon to a very disconsolate 
 house. You and I have lost our friends; but you have 
 more friends at home. My domestick companion is taken 
 from me. She is much missed, for her acquisitions were 
 many, and her curiosity universal; so that she partook of 
 every conversation. I am not well enough to go much out; 
 and to sit, and eat, or fast alone, is very wearisome. I 
 always mean to send my compliments to all the ladies.' 
 
 His fortitude and patience met with severe trials during 
 this year. The stroke of the palsy has been related circum- 
 stantially; but he was also afflicted with the gout, and was 
 besides troubled with a complaint which not only was at- 
 tended with immediate inconvenience, but threatened him 
 with a chirurgical operation, from which most men would 
 shrink. The complaint was a sarcocele, which Johnson bore 
 with uncommon firmness, and was not at all frightened while 
 he looked forward to amputation. He was attended by 
 Mr. Pott and Mr. Cruikshank. 
 
 Happily the complaint abated without his being put to the 
 torture of amputation. But we must surely admire the 
 manly resolution which he discovered while it hung over him. 
 
 He this autumn received a visit from the celebrated Mrs. 
 Siddons. He gives this account of it in one of his letters to 
 Mrs. Thrale: 
 
 'Mrs. Siddons, in her visit to me, behaved with great 
 modesty and propriety, and left nothing behind her to be 
 censured or despised. Neither praise nor money, the two 
 powerful corrupters of mankind, seem to have depraved her. 
 I shall be glad to see her again. Her brother Kemble calls 
 on me, and pleases me very well. Mrs. Siddons and I talked 
 of plays; and she told me her intention of exhibiting this
 
 1783] MRS. SIDDONS 505 
 
 winter the characters of Constance, Catharine, and Isabella, 
 in Shakspeare.' 
 
 Mr. Kemble has favoured me with the following minute of 
 what passed at this visit: 
 
 'When Mrs. Siddons came into the room, there happened 
 to be no chair ready for her, which he observing, said with 
 a smile, "Madam, you who so often occasion a want of seats 
 to other people, will the more easily excuse the want of one 
 yourself." 
 
 ' Having placed himself by her, he with great good-humour 
 entered upon a consideration of the English drama; and, 
 among other inquiries, particularly asked her which of Shak- 
 speare's characters she was most pleased with. Upon her 
 answering that she thought the character of Queen Cath- 
 arine, in Henry the Eighth, the most natural: "I think so 
 too, Madam, (said he;) and whenever you perform it, I will 
 once more hobble out to the theatre myself." Mrs. Siddons 
 promised she would do herself the honour of acting his fa- 
 vourite part for him; but many circumstances happened to 
 prevent the representation of King Henry the Eighth during 
 the Doctor's life. 
 
 ' In the course of the evening he thus gave his opinion upon 
 the merits of some of the principal performers whom he re- 
 membered to have seen upon the stage. " Mrs. Porter in the 
 vehemence of rage, and Mrs. Clive in the sprightliness of 
 humour, I have never seen equalled. What Clive did best, 
 she did better than Garrick; but could not do half .so many 
 things well; she was a better romp than any I ever saw in 
 nature. Pritchard, in common life, was a vulgar ideot; she 
 would talk of her gownd: but, when she appeared upon the 
 stage, seemed to be inspired by gentility and understanding. 
 I once talked with Colley Gibber, and thought him ignorant 
 of the principles of his art. Garrick, Madam, was no de- 
 claimer; there was not one of his own scene-shifters who 
 could not have spoken To be, or not to be, better than he did; 
 yet he was the only actor I ever saw, whom I could call a 
 master both in tragedy and comedy; though I liked him 
 best in comedy. A true conception of character, and natural 
 expression of it, were his distinguished excellencies." Having
 
 506 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 expatiated, with his usual force and eloquence, on Mr. 
 Garrick's extraordinary eminence as an actor, he concluded 
 with this compliment to his social talents: "And after all, 
 Madam, I thought him less to be envied on the stage than 
 at the head of a table.'" 
 
 Johnson, indeed, had thought more upon the subject of 
 acting than might be generally supposed. Talking of it one 
 day to Mr. Kemble, he said, 'Are you, Sir, one of those en- 
 thusiasts who believe yourself transformed into the very 
 character you represent?' Upon Mr. Kemble's answering 
 that he had never felt so strong a persuasion himself; 'To be 
 sure not, Sir, (said Johnson;) the thing is impossible. And 
 if Garrick really believed himself to be that monster, Richard 
 the Third, he deserved to be hanged every time he per- 
 formed it.' 
 
 I find in this, as in former years, notices of his kind atten- 
 tion to Mrs. Gardiner, who, though in the humble station of 
 a tallow-chandler upon Snow-hill, was a woman of excellent 
 good sense, pious, and charitable. She told me, she had 
 been introduced to him by Mrs. Masters, the poetess, whose 
 volumes he revised, and, it is said, illuminated here and there 
 with a ray of his own genius. Mrs. Gardiner was very zeal- 
 ous for the support of the Ladies' charity-school, in the 
 parish of St. Sepulchre. It is confined to females; and, I 
 am told, it afforded a hint for the story of Betty Broom in 
 The Idler. 
 
 The late ingenious Mr. Mickle, some time before his death, 
 wrote me a letter concerning Dr. Johnson, in which he men- 
 tions, ' I was upwards of twelve years acquainted with him, 
 was frequently in his company, always talked with ease to 
 him, and can truly say, that I never received from him one 
 rough word.' 
 
 Mr. Mickle reminds me in this letter of a conversation, at 
 dinner one day at Mr. Hoole's with Dr. Johnson, when Mr. 
 Nicol the King's bookseller and I attempted to controvert 
 the maxim, 'better that ten guilty should escape, than one 
 innocent person suffer;' and were answered by Dr. Johnson 
 with great power of reasoning and eloquence. I am very 
 sorry that I have no record of that day : but I well recollect
 
 1783] THE ESSEX-HEAD CLUB 507 
 
 my illustrious friend's having ably shewn, that unless civil 
 institutions insure protection to the innocent, all the confi- 
 dence which mankind should have in them would be lost. 
 
 Notwithstanding the complication of disorders under 
 which Johnson now laboured, he did not resign himself to 
 despondency and discontent, but with wisdom and spirit 
 endeavoured to console and amuse his mind with as many 
 innocent enjoyments as he could procure. Sir John Haw- 
 kins has mentioned the cordiality with which he insisted 
 that such of the members of the old club in Ivy-lane as sur- 
 vived, should meet again and dine together, which they did, 
 twice at a tavern and once at his house: and in order to 
 insure himself society in the evening for three days in the 
 week, he instituted a club at the Essex Head, in Essex-street, 
 then kept by Samuel Greaves, an old servant of Mr. Thrale's. 
 
 'To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, It is inconvenient to me to come out, I 
 should else have waited on you with an account of a little 
 evening Club which we are establishing in Essex-street, in 
 the Strand, and of which you are desired to be one. It will 
 be held at the Essex Head, now kept by an old servant of 
 Thrale's. The company is numerous, and, as you will see 
 by the list, miscellaneous. The terms are lax, and the ex- 
 pences light. Mr. Barry was adopted by Dr. Brocklesby, 
 who joined with me in forming the plan. We meet thrice 
 a week, and he who misses forfeits two-pence. 
 
 ' If you are willing to become a member, draw a line under 
 your name. Return the list. We meet for the first time on 
 Monday at eight. I am, &c. 
 
 'Dec. 4, 1783.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 It did not suit Sir Joshua to be one of this Club. But 
 when I mention only Mr. Daines Barrington, Dr. Brocklesby, 
 Mr. Murphy, Mr. John Nichols, Mr. Cooke, Mr. Joddrel, Mr. 
 Paradise, Dr. Horsley, Mr. Windham, 1 I shall sufficiently 
 obviate the misrepresentation of it by Sir John Hawkins, as 
 
 1 1 was in Scotland when this Club was founded, and during all the 
 winter. Johnson, however, declared I should be a member, and in-
 
 508 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1783 
 
 if it had been a low ale-house association, by which Johnson 
 was degraded. Johnson himself, like his namesake Old Ben, 
 composed the Rules of his Club. 
 
 In the end of this year he was seized with a spasmodick 
 asthma of such violence, that he was confined to the house in 
 great pain, being sometimes obliged to sit all night in his 
 chair, a recumbent posture being so hurtful to his respiration, 
 that he could not endure lying in bed; and there came upon 
 him at the same time that oppressive and fatal disease, a 
 dropsy. It was a very severe winter, which probably aggra- 
 vated his complaints; and the solitude in which Mr. Levett 
 and Mrs. Williams had left him, rendered his life very gloomy. 
 Mrs. Desmoulins, who still lived, was herself so very ill, 
 that she could contribute very little to his relief. He, how- 
 ever, had none of that unsocial shyness which we commonly 
 see in people afflicted with sickness. He did not hide his 
 head from the world, in solitary abstraction; he did not 
 deny himself to the visits' of his friends and acquaintances; 
 but at all times, when he was not overcome by sleep, was 
 ready for conversation as in his best days. 
 
 'To MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. 
 
 'DEAR MADAM, You may perhaps think me negligent 
 that I have not written to you again upon the loss of your 
 brother; but condolences and consolations are such com- 
 mon and such useless things, that the omission of them is 
 no great crime: and my own diseases occupy my mind, and 
 engage my care. My nights are miserably restless, and my 
 days, therefore, are heavy. I try, however, to hold up my 
 head as high as I can. 
 
 'I am sorry that your health is impaired; perhaps the 
 spring and the summer may, in some degree, restore it: but 
 if not, we must submit to the inconveniences of time, as to 
 
 vented a word upon the occasion: ' Boswell (said he,) is a very clubable 
 man.' When I came to town I was proposed by Mr. Barrington, and 
 chosen. I believe there are few societies where there is better conver- 
 sation or more decorum. Several of us resolved to continue it after 
 our great founder was removed by death. Other members were added ; 
 and now. above eight years since that loss, we go on happily. Mi 1)U ( W
 
 1784] SCOTCH PHYSICIAN CONSULTED 509 
 
 the other dispensations of Eternal Goodness. Pray for me, 
 
 and write to me, or let Mr. Pearson write for you. I am, &c. 
 
 'London, Nov. 29, 1783.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 1784: JETAT. 75.] AND now I am arrived at the last year 
 of the life of SAMUEL JOHNSON, a year in which, although 
 passed in severe indisposition, he nevertheless gave many 
 evidences of the continuance of those wondrous powers of 
 mind, which raised him so high in the intellectual world. 
 His conversation and his letters of this year were in no re- 
 spect inferiour to those of former years. 
 
 In consequence of Johnson's request that I should ask our 
 physicians about his case, and desire Sir Alexander Dick to 
 send his opinion, I transmitted him a letter from that very 
 amiable Baronet, then in his eighty-first year, with his facul- 
 ties as entire as ever; and mentioned his expressions to me 
 in the note accompanying it: 'With my most affectionate 
 wishes for Dr. Johnson's recovery, in which his friends, his 
 country, and all mankind have so deep a stake:' and at the 
 same time a full opinion upon his case by Dr. Gillespie, who, 
 like Dr. Cullen, had the advantage of having passed through 
 the gradations of surgery and pharmacy, and by study and 
 practice had attained to such skill, that my father settled on 
 him two hundred pounds a year for five years, and fifty pounds 
 a year during his Me, as an honorarium to secure his particu- 
 lar attendance. 
 
 I also applied to three of the eminent physicians who had 
 chairs in our celebrated school of medicine at Edinburgh, 
 Doctors Cullen, Hope, and Monro. 
 
 All of them paid the most polite attention to my letter, 
 and its venerable object. Dr. Cullen's words concerning 
 him were, 'It would give me the greatest pleasure to be of 
 any service to a man whom the publick properly esteem, and 
 whom I esteem and respect as much as I do Dr. Johnson.' 
 Dr. Hope's, 'Few people have a better claim on me than 
 your friend, as hardly a day passes that I do not ask his 
 opinion about this or that word.' Dr. Monro's, 'I most sin- 
 cerely join you in sympathizing with that very worthy and 
 
 ^enious character, from whom his country has derived 
 much instruction and entertainment.'
 
 510 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON UTS* 
 
 'To THE REVEREND DR. TAYLOR, ASHBOURNE, 
 DERBYSHIRE. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, What can be the reason that I hear nothing 
 from you ? I hope nothing disables you from writing. What 
 I have seen, and what I have felt, gives me reason to fear 
 every thing. Do not omit giving me the comfort of know- 
 ing, that after all my losses I have yet a friend left. 
 
 'I want every comfort. My life is very solitary and very 
 cheerless. Though it has pleased GOD wonderfully to de- 
 liver me from the dropsy, I am yet very weak, and have not 
 passed the door since the 13th of December. I hope for 
 some help from warm weather, which will surely come in 
 time. 
 
 'I could not have the consent of the physicians to go to 
 church yesterday; I therefore received the holy sacrament 
 at home, in the room where I communicated with dear Mrs. 
 Williams, a little before her death. ! my friend, the ap- 
 proach of death is very dreadful. I am afraid to think on 
 that which I know I cannot avoid. It is vain to look round 
 and round for that help which cannot be had. Yet we hope 
 and hope, and fancy that he who has lived to-day may live 
 to-morrow. But let us learn to derive our hope only from 
 GOD. 
 
 ' In the mean time, let us be kind to one another. I have 
 no friend now living but you and Mr. Hector, that was the 
 friend of my youth. Do not neglect, dear Sir, yours affec- 
 tionately, 
 
 'London, Easter-Monday, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 April 12, 1784.' 
 
 What follows is a beautiful specimen of his gentleness and 
 complacency to a young lady his god-child, one of the daugh- 
 ters of his friend Mr. Langton, then I think in her seventh 
 year. He took the trouble to write it in a large round hand, 
 nearly resembling printed characters, that she might have 
 the satisfaction of reading it herself. The original lies be- 
 fore me, but shall be faithfully restored to her; and I dare 
 say wfll be preserved by her as a jewel as long as she lives.
 
 1784] LETTER TO HIS GOD-CHILD 511 
 
 'To Miss JANE LANGTON, IN ROCHESTER, KENT. 
 
 'Mr DEAREST Miss JENNY, I am sorry that your pretty 
 letter has been so long without being answered; but, when 
 I am not pretty well, I do not always write plain enough for 
 young ladies. I am glad, my dear, to see that you write so 
 well, and hope that you mind your pen, your book, and your 
 needle, for they are all necessary. Your books will give you 
 knowledge, and make you respected; and your needle will 
 find you useful employment when you do not care to read. 
 When you are a little older, I hope you will be very diligent 
 in learning arithmetick, and, above all, that through your 
 whole life you will carefully say your prayers, and read your 
 Bible. I am, my dear, your most humble servant, 
 
 'May 10, 1784.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 On Wednesday, May 5, I arrived in London, and next 
 morning had the pleasure to find Dr. Johnson greatly re- 
 covered. I but just saw him; for a coach was waiting to 
 carry him to Islington, to the house of his friend the Rev- 
 erend Mr. Strahan, where he went sometimes for the benefit 
 of good air, which, notwithstanding his having formerly 
 laughed at the general opinion upon the subject, he now 
 acknowledged was conducive to health. 
 
 One morning afterwards, when I found him alone, he 
 communicated to me, with solemn earnestness, a very re- 
 markable circumstance which had happened in the course 
 of his illness, when he was much distressed by the dropsy. 
 He had shut himself up, and employed a day in particular 
 exercises of religion fasting, humiliation, and prayer. On 
 a sudden he obtained extraordinary relief, for which he 
 looked up to Heaven with grateful devotion. He made no 
 direct inference from this fact; but from his manner of 
 telling it, I could perceive that it appeared to him as some- 
 thing more than an incident in the common course of events. 
 For my own part, I have no difficulty to avow that cast of 
 thinking, which by many modern pretenders to wisdom is 
 called superstitious. But here I think even men of dry 
 rationality may believe, that there was an intermediate in-
 
 512 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 terposition of Divine Providence, and that 'the fervent 
 prayer of this righteous man' availed. 
 
 On Saturday, May 15, I dined with him at Dr. Brockles- 
 by's, where were Colonel Valiancy, Mr. Murphy, and that 
 ever-cheerful companion Mr. Devaynes, apothecary to his 
 Majesty. Of these days, and others on which I saw him, I 
 have no memorials, except the general recollection of his 
 being able and animated in conversation, and appearing to 
 relish society as much as the youngest man. I find only 
 these three small particulars: When a person was men- 
 tioned, who said, 'I have lived fifty-one years in this world 
 without having had ten minutes of uneasiness; ' he exclaimed, 
 'The man who says so, lies: he attempts to impose on human 
 credulity.' The Bishop of Exeter in vain observed, that men 
 were very different. His Lordship's manner was not im- 
 pressive, and I learnt afterwards that Johnson did not find 
 out that the person who talked to him was a Prelate; if he 
 had, I doubt not that he would have treated him with more 
 respect; for once talking of George Psalmanazar, whom he 
 reverenced for his piety, he said, 'I should as soon think of 
 contradicting a BISHOP.' One of the company 1 provoked 
 him greatly by doing what he could least of all bear, which 
 was quoting something of his own writing, against what he 
 then maintained. 'What, Sir, (cried the gentleman,) do you 
 say to 
 
 "The busy day, the peaceful night, 
 Unf elt, uncounted, glided by ? " ' 
 
 Johnson finding himself thus presented as giving an instance 
 of a man who had lived without uneasiness, was much 
 offended, for he looked upon such a quotation as unfair. His 
 anger burst out in an unjustifiable retort, insinuating that 
 the gentleman's remark was a sally of ebriety; 'Sir, there is 
 one passion I would advise you to command: when you 
 have drunk out that glass, don't drink another.' Here was 
 exemplified what Goldsmith said of him, with the aid of 
 a very witty image from one of Gibber's Comedies: 'There 
 > Boswell himself, likely enough. HILL.
 
 1784] WITH LITERARY LADIES 513 
 
 is no arguing with Johnson; for if his pistol misses fire, he 
 knocks you down with the butt end of it.' Another was 
 this: when a gentleman of eminence in the literary world 
 was violently censured for attacking people by anonymous 
 paragraphs in news-papers; he, from the spirit of contra- 
 diction as I thought, took up his defence, and said, 'Come, 
 come, this is not so terrible a crime; he means only to vex 
 them a little. I do not say that I should do it; but there is 
 a great difference between him and me; what is fit for 
 Hephaestion is not fit for Alexander.' Another, when I told 
 him that a young and handsome Countess had said to me, 
 'I should think that to be praised by Dr. Johnson would 
 make one a fool all one's life;' and that I answered, 'Madam, 
 I shall make him a fool to-day, by repeating this to him,' he 
 said, 'I am too old to be made a fool; but if you say I am 
 made a fool, I shall not deny it. I am much pleased with 
 a compliment, especially from a pretty woman.' 
 
 On the evening of Saturday, May 15, he was in fine spirits, 
 at our Essex-Head Club. He told us, 'I dined yesterday at 
 Mrs. Garrick's, with Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and 
 Miss Fanny Burney. Three such women are not to be 
 found: I know not where I could find a fourth, except Mrs. 
 Lennox, who is superiour to them all.' BOSWELL. 'What! 
 had you them all to yourself, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'I had them 
 all as much as they were had; but it might have been better 
 had there been more company there.' BOSWELL. 'Might 
 not Mrs. Montagu have been a fourth?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, 
 Mrs. Montagu does not make a trade of her wit; but Mrs. 
 Montagu is a very extraordinary woman; she has a constant 
 stream of conversation, and it is always impregnated; it 
 has always meaning.' BOSWELL. 'Mr. Burke has a con- 
 stant stream of conversation.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; if a man 
 were to go by chance at the same time with Burke under 
 a shed, to shun a shower, he would say "this is an extraor- 
 dinary man." If Burke should go into a stable to see his 
 horse drest, the ostler would say "we have had an extraor- 
 dinary man here."' BOSWELL. 'Foote was a man who 
 never failed in conversation. If he had gone into a stable 
 JOHNSON. ' Sir, if he had gone into a stable, the ostler would
 
 514 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 have said, "here has been a comical fellow"; but he would 
 not have respected him.' BOSWELL. 'And, Sir, the ostler 
 would have answered him, would have given him as good as 
 he brought, as the common saying is.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; 
 and Foote would have answered the ostler. When Burke 
 does not descend to be merry, his conversation is very su- 
 periour indeed. There is no proportion between the powers 
 which he shews in serious talk and in jocularity. When he 
 lets himself down to that, he is in the kennel.' I have in 
 another place opposed, and I hope with success, Dr. John- 
 son's very singular and erroneous notion as to Mr. Burke's 
 pleasantry. Mr. Windham now said low to me, that he 
 differed from our great friend in this observation; for that 
 Mr. Burke was often very happy in his merriment. It would 
 not have been right for either of us to have contradicted 
 Johnson at this time, in a Society all of whom did not know 
 and value Mr. Burke as much as we did. It might have 
 occasioned something more rough, and at any rate would 
 probably have checked the flow of Johnson's good-humour. 
 He called to us with a sudden air of exultation, as the thought 
 started into his mind, ' ! Gentlemen, I must tell you a very 
 great thing. The Empress of Russia has ordered the Ram- 
 bler to be translated into the Russian language: so I shall 
 be read on the banks of the Wolga. Horace boasts that his 
 fame would extend as far as the banks of the Rhone; now 
 the Wolga is farther from me than the Rhone was from 
 Horace.' BOSWELL. 'You must certainly be pleased with 
 this, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'I am pleased, Sir, to be sure. A man 
 is pleased to find he has succeeded in that which he has 
 endeavoured to do.' 
 
 One of the company mentioned his having seen a noble 
 person driving in his carriage, and looking exceedingly well, 
 notwithstanding his great age. JOHNSON. 'Ah, Sir; that 
 is nothing. Bacon observes, that a stout healthy old man is 
 like a tower undermined.' 
 
 On Sunday, May 16, I found him alone; he talked of Mrs. 
 Thrale with much concern, saying, 'Sir, she has done every 
 thing wrong, since Thrale's bridle was off her neck;' and 
 was proceeding to mention some circumstances which have
 
 1784] ON EDITIONS 515 
 
 since been the subject of publick discussion, when he was 
 interrupted by the arrival of Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of 
 Salisbury. 
 
 In one of his little manuscript diaries, about this time, 
 I find a short notice, which marks his amiable disposition 
 more certainly than a thousand studied declarations. 
 'Afternoon spent cheerfully and elegantly, I hope without 
 offence to GOD or man; though in no holy duty, yet in the 
 general exercise and cultivation of benevolence.' 
 
 On Monday, May 17, I dined with him at Mr. Dilly's, 
 where were Colonel Valiancy, the Reverend Dr. Gibbons, and 
 Mr. Capel Lofft, who, though a most zealous Whig, has a 
 mind so full of learning and knowledge, and so much exer- 
 cised in various departments, and withal so much liberality, 
 that the stupendous powers of the literary Goliath, though 
 they did not frighten this little David of popular spirit, could 
 not but excite his admiration. There was also Mr. Braith- 
 waite of the Post-office, that amiable and friendly man, who, 
 with modest and unassuming manners, has associated with 
 many of the wits of the age. Johnson was very quiescent 
 to-day. Perhaps too I was indolent. I find nothing more 
 of him in my notes, but that when I mentioned that I had 
 seen in the King's library sixty-three editions of my favourite 
 Thomas d Kempis, amongst which it was in eight languages, 
 Latin, German, French, Italian, Spanish, English, Arabick, 
 and Armenian, he said, he thought it unnecessary to collect 
 many editions of a book, which were all the same, except as 
 to the paper and print; he would have the original, and all 
 the translations, and all the editions which had any vari- 
 ations in the text. He approved of the famous collection of 
 editions of Horace by Douglas, mentioned by Pope, who is 
 said to have had a closet filled with them; and he added, 
 'every man should try to collect one book in that manner, 
 and present it to a publick library.' 
 
 On Wednesday, May 19, I sat a part of the evening with 
 him, by ourselves. I observed, that the death of our friends 
 might be a consolation against the fear of our own dissolu- 
 tion, because we might have more friends in the other world 
 than in this. He perhaps felt this as a reflection upon his
 
 516 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON HTM 
 
 apprehension as to death; and said, with heat, 'How can a 
 man know where his departed friends are, or whether they 
 will be his friends in the other world ? How many friendships 
 have you known formed upon principles of virtue? Most 
 friendships are formed by caprice or by chance, mere con- 
 federacies in vice or leagues in folly.' 
 
 We talked of our worthy friend Mr. Langton. He said, 
 ' I know not who will go to Heaven if Langton does not. Sir, 
 I could almost say, Sit anima mea cum Langtono.' I men- 
 tioned a very eminent friend as a virtuous man. JOHNSON. 
 
 'Yes, Sir; but has not the evangelical virtue of 
 
 Langton. , I am afraid, would not scruple to pick 
 
 up a wench.' 
 
 He however charged Mr. Langton with what he thought 
 want of judgment upon an interesting occasion. 'When 
 I was ill, (said he,) I desired he would tell me sincerely in 
 what he thought my life was faulty. Sir, he brought me a 
 sheet of paper, on which he had written down several texts 
 of Scripture, recommending Christian charity. And when 
 I questioned him what occasion I had given for such an 
 animadversion, all that he could say amounted to this, that 
 I sometimes contradicted people in conversation. Now 
 what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?' 
 BOSWELL. 'I suppose he meant the manner of doing it; 
 roughly, and harshly.' JOHNSON. 'And who is the worse 
 for that?' BOSWELL. 'It hurts people of weak nerves.' 
 JOHNSON. 'I know no such weak-nerved people.' Mr. 
 Burke, to whom I related this conference, said, 'It is well, if 
 when a man comes to die, he has nothing heavier upon his 
 conscience than having been a little rough in conversation.' 
 
 Johnson, at the time when the paper was presented to 
 him, though at first pleased with the attention of his friend, 
 whom he thanked in an earnest manner, soon exclaimed, in 
 a loud and angry tone, 'What is your drift, Sir?' Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds pleasantly observed, that it was a scene for a 
 comedy, to see a penitent get into a violent passion and be- 
 labour his confessor. 
 
 He had dined that day at Mr. Hoole's, and Miss Helen 
 Maria Williams being expected in the evening, Mr. Hoole put
 
 1784] JAUNT TO OXFORD 517 
 
 into his hands her beautiful Ode on the Peace : Johnson read 
 it over, and when this elegant and accomplished young lady 
 was presented to him, he took her by the hand in the most 
 courteous manner, and repeated the finest stanza of her 
 poem; this was the most delicate and pleasing compliment 
 he could pay. Her respectable friend, Dr. Kippis, from 
 whom I had this anecdote, was standing by, and was not 
 a little gratified. 
 
 Miss Williams told me, that the only other time she was 
 fortunate enough to be in Dr. Johnson's company, he asked 
 her to sit down by him, which she did, and upon her in- 
 quiring how he was, he answered, 'I am very ill indeed, 
 Madam. I am very ill even when you are near me; what 
 should I be were you at a distance?' 
 
 He had now a great desire to go to Oxford, as his first 
 jaunt after his illness; we talked of it for some days, and 
 I had promised to accompany him. He was impatient and 
 fretful to-night, because I did not at once agree to go with 
 him on Thursday. When I considered how ill he had been, 
 and what allowance should be made for the influence of 
 sickness upon his temper, I resolved to indulge him, though 
 with some inconvenience to myself, as I wished to attend the 
 musical meeting in honour of Handel, in Westminster- Abbey, 
 on the following Saturday. 
 
 In the midst of his own diseases and pains, he was ever 
 compassionate to the distresses of others, and actively ear- 
 nest in procuring them aid, as appears from a note to Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, of June, in these words: 'I am ashamed 
 to ask for some relief for a poor man, to whom, I hope, I have 
 given what I can be expected to spare. The man impor- 
 tunes me, and the blow goes round. I am going to try 
 another air on Thursday.' 
 
 On Thursday, June 3, the Oxford post-coach took us up 
 in the morning at Bolt-court. The other two passengers 
 were Mrs. Beresford and her daughter, two very agreeable 
 ladies from America; they were going to Worcestershire, 
 where they then resided. Frank had been sent by his master 
 the day before to take places for us; and I found, from the 
 waybill, that Dr. Johnson had made our names be put down.
 
 518 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 Mrs. Beresford, who had read it, whispered me, 'Is this the 
 great Dr. Johnson?' I told her it was; so she was then pre- 
 pared to listen. As she soon happened to mention in a voice 
 so low that Johnson did not hear it, that her husband had 
 been a member of the American Congress, I cautioned her to 
 beware of introducing that subject, as she must know how 
 very violent Johnson was against the people of that country. 
 He talked a great deal, but I am sorry I have preserved little 
 of the conversation. Miss Beresford was so much charmed, 
 that she said to me aside, ' How he does talk ! Every sentence 
 is an essay.' She amused herself in the coach with knotting; 
 he would scarcely allow this species of employment any 
 merit. 'Next to mere idleness (said he,) I think knotting 
 is to be reckoned in the scale of insignificance; though I 
 once attempted to learn knotting. Dempster's sister (look- 
 ing to me,) endeavoured to teach me it; but I made no 
 progress.' 
 
 I was surprised at his talking without reserve in the pub- 
 lick post-coach of the state of his affairs; 'I have (said he,) 
 about the world I think above a thousand pounds, which 
 I intend shall afford Frank an annuity of seventy pounds a 
 year.' Indeed his openness with people at a first interview 
 was remarkable. He said once to Mr. Langton, 'I think 
 I am like Squire Richard in The Journey to London, "I'm 
 never strange in a strange place."' He was truly social. He 
 strongly censured what is much too common in England 
 among persons of condition, maintaining an absolute silence, 
 when unknown to each other; as for instance, when occa- 
 sionally brought together in a room before the master or 
 mistress of the house has appeared. 'Sir, that is being so 
 uncivilised as not to understand the common rights of 
 humanity.' 
 
 At the inn where we stopped he was exceedingly dissatis- 
 fied with some roast mutton which we had for dinner. The 
 ladies I saw wondered to see the great philosopher, whose 
 wisdom and wit they had been admiring all the way, get 
 into ill-humour from such a cause. He scolded the waiter, 
 saying, 'It is as bad as bad can be: it is ill-fed, ill-killed, 
 ill-kept, and ill-drest.'
 
 1784] IN THE OXFORD COACH 519 
 
 He bore the journey very well, and seemed to feel himself 
 elevated as he approached Oxford, that magnificent and 
 venerable seat of learning, Orthodoxy, and Toryism. Frank 
 came in the heavy coach, in readiness to attend him; and 
 we were received with the most polite hospitality at the house 
 of his old friend Dr. Adams, Master of Pembroke College, 
 who had given us a kind invitation. Before we were set 
 down, I communicated to Johnson, my having engaged to 
 return to London directly, for the reason I have mentioned, 
 but that I would hasten back to him again. He was pleased 
 that I had made this journey merely to keep him company. 
 He was easy and placid, with Dr. Adams, Mrs. and Miss 
 Adams, and Mrs. Kennicot, widow of the learned Hebraean, 
 who was here on a visit. He soon dispatched the inquiries 
 which were made about his illness and recovery, by a short 
 and distinct narrative; and then assuming a gay air, re- 
 peated from Swift, 
 
 ' Nor think on our approaching ills, 
 And talk of spectacles and pills.' 
 
 I fulfilled my intention by going to London, and returned 
 to Oxford on Wednesday the 9th of June, when I was happy 
 to find myself again in the same agreeable circle at Pembroke 
 College, with the comfortable prospect of making some stay. 
 Johnson welcomed my return with more than ordinary glee. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast, he pointed out a passage in 
 Savage's Wanderer, saying, 'These are fine verses.' 'If (said 
 he,) I had written with hostility of Warburton in my Shak- 
 speare, I should have quoted this couplet: 
 
 "Here Learning, blinded first and then beguil'd, 
 Looks dark as Ignorance, as Fancy wild." 
 
 You see they'd have fitted him to a T,' (smiling.) DR. 
 ADAMS. 'But you did not write against Warburton.' JOHN- 
 SON. 'No, Sir, I treated him with great respect both in my 
 Preface and in my Notes.' 
 After dinner, when one of us talked of there being a great
 
 520 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 enmity between Whig and Tory; JOHNSON. 'Why not so 
 much, I think, unless when they come into competition with 
 each other. There is none when they are only common ac- 
 quaintance, none when they are of different sexes. A Tory 
 will marry into a Whig family, and a Whig into a Tory fam- 
 ily, without any reluctance. But indeed, in a matter of 
 much more concern than political tenets, and that is religion, 
 men and women do not concern themselves much about 
 difference of opinion; and ladies set no value on the moral 
 character of men who pay their addresses to them; the 
 greatest profligate will be as well received as the man of the 
 greatest virtue, and this by a very good woman, by a woman 
 who says her prayers three times a day.' Our ladies endeav- 
 oured to defend their sex from this charge; but he roared them 
 down ! ' No, no, a lady will take Jonathan Wild as readily 
 as St. Austin, if he has threepence more; and, what is worse, 
 her parents will give her to him. Women have a perpetual 
 envy of our vices; they are less vicious than we, not from 
 choice, but because we restrict them; they are the slaves of 
 order and fashion; their virtue is of more consequence to us 
 than our own, so far as concerns this world.' 
 
 Miss Adams mentioned a gentleman of licentious character, 
 and said, 'Suppose I had a mind to marry that gentleman, 
 would my parents consent?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, they'd con- 
 sent, and you'd go. You'd go though they did not consent.' 
 Miss ADAMS. 'Perhaps their opposing might make me go.' 
 JOHNSON. 'O, very well; you'd take one whom you think 
 a bad man, to have the pleasure of vexing your parents. You 
 put me in mind of Dr. Barrowby, the physician, who was 
 very fond of swine's flesh. One day, when he was eating it, 
 he said, " I wish I was a Jew." " Why so? (said somebody;) 
 the Jews are not allowed to eat your favourite meat." " Be- 
 cause, (said he,) I should then have the gust of eating it, 
 with the pleasure of sinning." ' Johnson then proceeded in 
 his declamation. 
 
 Miss Adams soon afterwards made an observation that 
 I do not recollect, which pleased him much: he said with a 
 good-humoured smile, 'That there should be so much ex- 
 cellence united with so much depravity, is strange.'
 
 1784] ON PRAYERS 521 
 
 Indeed, this lady's good qualities, merit, and accomplish- 
 ments, and her constant attention to Dr. Johnson, were not 
 lost upon him. She happened to tell him that a little coffee- 
 pot, in which she had made his coffee, was the only thing she 
 could call her own. He turned to her with a complacent 
 gallantry, 'Don't say so, my dear; I hope you don't reckon 
 my heart as nothing.' 
 
 On Friday, June 11, we talked at breakfast, of forms of 
 prayer. JOHNSON. 'I know of no good prayers but those 
 in the Book of Common Prayer.' DR. ADAMS, (in a very 
 earnest manner:) 'I wish, Sir, you would compose some fam- 
 ily prayers.' JOHNSON. 'I will not compose prayers for 
 you, Sir, because you can do it for yourself. But I have 
 thought of getting together all the books of prayers which I 
 could, selecting those which should appear to me the best, 
 putting out some, inserting others, adding some prayers of 
 my own, and prefixing a discourse on prayer.' We all now 
 gathered about him, and two or three of us at a time joined 
 in pressing him to execute this plan. He seemed to be a 
 little displeased at the manner of our importunity, and in 
 great agitation called out, 'Do not talk thus of what is so 
 aweful. I know not what time GOD will allow me in this 
 world. There are many things which I wish to do.' Some 
 of us persisted, and Dr. Adams said, 'I never was more seri- 
 ous about any thing in my life.' JOHNSON. 'Let me alone, 
 let me alone; I am overpowered.' And then he put his handa 
 before his face, and reclined for some time upon the table. 
 
 Dr. Johnson and I went in Dr. Adams's coach to dine with 
 Dr. Nowell, Principal of St. Mary Hall, at his beautiful villa 
 at Iffley, on the banks of the Isis, about two miles from Ox- 
 ford. While we were upon the road, I had the resolution 
 to ask Johnson whether he thought that the roughness of 
 his manner had been an advantage or not, and if he would 
 not have done more good if he had been more gentle. I pro- 
 ceeded to answer myself thus: 'Perhaps it has been of ad- 
 vantage, as it has given weight to what you said: you could 
 not, perhaps, have talked with such authority without it.' 
 JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I have done more good as I am. Ob- 
 scenity and Impiety have always been repressed in my com-
 
 522 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ITS* 
 
 pany.' BOSWELL. 'True, Sir; and that is more than can 
 be said of every Bishop. Greater liberties have been taken 
 in the presence of a Bishop, though a very good man, from 
 his being milder, and therefore not commanding such awe. 
 Yet, Sir, many people who might have been benefited by 
 your conversation, have been frightened away. A worthy 
 friend of ours has told me, that he has often been afraid to 
 talk to you.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, he need not have been afraid, 
 if he had any thing rational to say. If he had not, it was 
 better he did not talk.' 
 
 We talked of a certain clergyman of extraordinary charac- 
 ter, who by exerting his talents in writing on temporary 
 topicks, and displaying uncommon intrepidity, had raised 
 himself to affluence. I maintained that we ought not to be 
 indignant at his success; for merit of every sort was entitled 
 to reward. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I will not allow this man to 
 have merit. No, Sir; what he has is rather the contrary; I 
 will, indeed, allow him courage, and on this account we so 
 far give him credit. We have more respect for a man who 
 robs boldly on the highway, than for a fellow who jumps 
 out of a ditch, and knocks you down behind your back. 
 Courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that 
 it is always respected, even when it is associated with vice.' 
 
 Mr. Henderson, with whom I had sauntered in the vener- 
 able walks of Merton College, and found him a very learned 
 and pious man, supped with us. Dr. Johnson surprised him 
 not a little, by acknowledging with a look of horrour, that he 
 was much oppressed by the fear of death. The amiable Dr. 
 Adams suggested that GOD was infinitely good. JOHNSON. 
 'That he is infinitely good, as far as the perfection of his 
 nature will allow, I certainly believe; but it is necessary for 
 good upon the whole, that individuals should be punished. 
 As to an individual, therefore, he is not infinitely good; and 
 as I cannot be sure that I have fulfilled the conditions on 
 which salvation is granted, I am afraid I may be one of those 
 who shall be damned.' (looking dismally). DR. ADAMS. 
 'What do you mean by damned?' JOHNSON, (passionately 
 and loudly,) 'Sent to Hell, Sir, and punished everlastingly!' 
 DR. ADAMS. 'I don't believe that doctrine.' JOHNSON.
 
 1784] EVERLASTING PUNISHMENT 523 
 
 * Hold, Sir, do you believe that some will be punished at all ? ' 
 DR. ADAMS. ' Being excluded from Heaven will be a punish- 
 ment; yet there may be no great positive suffering.' JOHN- 
 SON. ' Well, Sir; but, if you admit any degree of punishment, 
 there is an end of your argument for infinite goodness simply 
 considered; for, infinite goodness would inflict no punish- 
 ment whatever. There is not infinite goodness physically 
 considered; morally there is.' BOSWELL. 'But may not 
 a man attain to such a degree of hope as not to be uneasy 
 from the fear of death ? ' JOHNSON. ' A man may have such 
 a degree of hope as to keep him quiet. You see I am not 
 quiet, from the vehemence with which I talk; but I do not 
 despair.' MRS. ADAMS. 'You seem, Sir, to forget the merits 
 of our Redeemer.' JOHNSON. 'Madam, I do not forget the 
 merits of my Redeemer; but my Redeemer has said that he 
 will set some on his right hand and some on his left.' He 
 was in gloomy agitation, and said, Til have no more on't.' 
 If what has now been stated should be urged by the enemies 
 of Christianity, as if its influence on the mind were not be- 
 nignant, let it be remembered, that Johnson's temperament 
 was melancholy, of which such direful apprehensions of 
 futurity are often a common effect. We shall presently see 
 that when he approached nearer to his aweful change, his 
 mind became tranquil, and he exhibited as much fortitude 
 as becomes a thinking man in that situation. 
 
 From the subject of death we passed to discourse of life, 
 whether it was upon the whole more happy or miserable. 
 Johnson was decidedly for the balance of misery: in con- 
 firmation of which I maintained, that no man would choose 
 to lead over again the life which he had experienced. John- 
 son acceded to that opinion in the strongest terms. 
 
 On Sunday, June 13, our philosopher was calm at break- 
 fast. There was something exceedingly pleasing in our 
 leading a College life, without restraint, and with superiour 
 elegance, in consequence of our living in the Master's house, 
 and having the company of ladies. Mrs. Kennicot related, 
 in his presence, a lively saying of Dr. Johnson to Miss Han- 
 nah More, who had expressed a wonder that the poet who 
 had written Paradise Lost should write such poor Sonnets:
 
 524 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [i?84 
 
 'Milton, Madam, was a genius that could cut a Colossus from 
 a rock; but could not carve heads upon cherry-stones.' 
 
 On Monday, June 14, and Tuesday, 15, Dr. Johnson and 
 I dined, on one of them, I forget which, with Mr. Mickle, 
 translator of the Lusiad, at Wheatley, a very pretty country 
 place a few miles from Oxford; and on the other with Dr. 
 Wetherell, Master of University College. From Dr. Weth- 
 erell's he went to visit Mr. Sackville Parker, the bookseller; 
 and when he returned to us, gave the following account of 
 his visit, saying, 'I have been to see my old friend, Sack. 
 Parker; I find he has married his maid; he has done right. 
 She had lived with him many years in great confidence, and 
 they had mingled minds; I do not think he could have found 
 any wife that would have made him so happy. The woman 
 was very attentive and civil to me; she pressed me to fix a 
 day for dining with them, and to say what I liked, and she 
 would be sure to get it for me. Poor Sack ! He is very ill, 
 indeed. We parted as never to meet again. It has quite 
 broke me down.' This pathetic narrative was strangely 
 diversified with the grave and earnest defence of a man's 
 having married his maid. I could not but feel it as in some 
 degree ludicrous. 
 
 In the morning of Tuesday, June 15, while we sat at Dr. 
 Adams's, we talked of a printed letter from the Reverend 
 Herbert Croft, to a young gentleman who had been his pupil, 
 in which he advised him to read to the end of whatever 
 books he should begin to read. JOHNSON. 'This is surely 
 a strange advice; you may as well resolve that whatever men 
 you happen to get acquainted with, you are to keep to them 
 for life. A book may be good for nothing; or there may be 
 only one thing in it worth knowing; are we to read it all 
 through? These Voyages, (pointing to the three large 
 volumes of Voyages to the South Sea, which were just come 
 out) who will read them through? A man had better work 
 his way before the mast, than read them through; they will 
 be eaten by rats and mice, before they are read through. 
 There can be little entertainment in such books; one set of 
 Savages is like another.' BOSWELL. 'I do not think the 
 people of Otaheite' can be reckoned Savages.' JOHNSON.
 
 1784] THE STUDY OF LAW 525 
 
 'Don't cant in defence of Savages.' BOSWELL. 'They have 
 the art of navigation.' JOHNSON. 'A dog or a cat can swim.' 
 BOSWELL. 'They carve very ingeniously.' JOHNSON. 'A 
 cat can scratch, and a child with a nail can scratch.' I per- 
 ceived this was none of the mollia tempora fandi; so desisted. 
 
 Upon his mentioning that when he came to College he 
 wrote his first exercise twice over; but never did so after- 
 wards; Miss ADAMS. 'I suppose, Sir, you could not make 
 them better?' JOHNSON. ' Yes, Madam, to be sure, I could 
 make them better. Thought is better than no thought/ 
 Miss ADAMS. 'Do you think, Sir, you could make your 
 Ramblers better?' JOHNSON. 'Certainly I could.' BOS- 
 WELL. Til lay a bet, Sir, you cannot.' JOHNSON. 'But 
 I will, Sir, if I choose. I shall make the best of them you 
 shall pick out, better.' BOSWELL. 'But you may add to 
 them. I will not allow of that.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, 
 there are three ways of making them better; putting out, 
 adding, or correcting.' 
 
 During our visit at Oxford, the following conversation 
 passed between him and me on the subject of my trying my 
 fortune at the English bar: Having asked whether a very 
 extensive acquaintance in London, which was very valuable, 
 and of great advantage to a man at large, might not be prej- 
 udicial to a lawyer, by preventing him from giving sufficient 
 attention to his business; JOHNSON. 'Sir, you will attend 
 to business, as business lays hold of you. When not actually 
 employed, you may see your friends as much as you do now. 
 You may dine at a Club every day, and sup with one of the 
 members every night; and you may be as much at publick 
 places as one who has seen them all would wish to be. But 
 you must take care to attend constantly in Westminster- 
 Hall; both to mind your business, as it is almost all learnt 
 there, (for nobody reads now;) and to shew that you want to 
 have business. And you must not be too often seen at pub- 
 lick places, that competitors may not have it to say, "He is 
 always at the Playhouse or at Ranelagh, and never to be 
 found at his chambers." And, Sir, there must be a kind 
 of solemnity in the manner of a professional man. I have 
 nothing particular to say to you on the subject. All this
 
 526 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 I should say to any one; I should have said it to Lord 
 Thurlow twenty years ago.' 
 
 On Wednesday, June 19, Dr. Johnson and I returned to 
 London; he was not well to-day, and said very little, em- 
 ploying himself chiefly in reading Euripides. He expressed 
 some displeasure at me, for not observing sufficiently the 
 various objects upon the road. 'If I had your eyes, Sir, 
 (said he,) I should count the passengers.' It was wonderful 
 how accurate his observation of visual objects was, notwith- 
 standing his imperfect eyesight, owing to a habit of atten- 
 tion. That he was much satisfied with the respect paid to 
 him at Dr. Adams's is thus attested by himself: 'I returned 
 last night from Oxford, after a fortnight's abode with Dr. 
 Adams, who treated me as well as I could expect or wish; 
 and he that contents a sick man, a man whom it is impossi- 
 ble to please, has surely done his part well.' 
 
 After his return to London from this excursion, I saw him 
 frequently, but have few memorandums: I shall therefore 
 here insert some particulars which I collected at various times. 
 
 It having been mentioned to Dr. Johnson that a gentle- 
 man who had a son whom he imagined to have an extreme 
 degree of timidity, resolved to send him to a publick school, 
 that he might acquire confidence; 'Sir, (said Johnson,) 
 this is a preposterous expedient for removing his infirmity; 
 such a disposition should be cultivated in the shade. Plac- 
 ing him at a publick school is forcing an owl upon day.' 
 
 Speaking of a gentleman whose house was much frequented 
 by low company; 'Rags, Sir, (said he,) will always make 
 their appearance where they have a right to do it.' 
 
 Of the same gentleman's mode of living, he said, 'Sir, the 
 servants, instead of doing what they are bid, stand round 
 the table in idle clusters, gaping upon the guests; and seem 
 as unfit to attend a company, as to steer a man of war.' 
 
 A dull country magistrate gave Johnson a long tedious 
 account of his exercising his criminal jurisdiction, the result 
 of which was his having sentenced four convicts to transpor- 
 tation. Johnson, in an agony of impatience to get rid of 
 such a companion, exclaimed, 'I heartily wish, Sir, that I 
 were a fifth.'
 
 1784] HORACE WALPOLE 527 
 
 Johnson was present when a tragedy was read, in which 
 there occurred this line: 
 
 'Who rules o'er freemen should himself be free.' 
 
 The company having admired it much, ' I cannot agree with 
 you (said Johnson). It might as well be said, 
 
 'Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat.' 
 
 Johnson having argued for some time with a pertinacious 
 gentleman; his opponent, who had talked in a very puzzling 
 manner, happened to say, 'I don't understand you, Sir:' 
 upon which Johnson observed, 'Sir, I have found you an 
 argument; but I am not obliged to find you an under- 
 standing.' 
 
 Talking to me of Horry Walpole, (as Horace late Earl of 
 Orford was often called,) Johnson allowed that he got to- 
 gether a great many curious little things, and told them in 
 an elegant manner. Mr. Walpole thought Johnson a more 
 amiable character after reading his Letters to Mrs. Thrale: 
 but never was one of the true admirers of that great man. 
 We may suppose a prejudice conceived, if he ever heard 
 Johnson's account to Sir George Staunton, that when he 
 made the speeches in parliament for the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine, 'he always took care to put Sir Robert Walpole in the 
 wrong, and to say every thing he could against the electorate 
 of Hanover.' The celebrated Heroick Epistle, in which 
 Johnson is satyrically introduced, has been ascribed both to 
 Mr. Walpole and Mr. Mason. One day at Mr. Courtenay's, 
 when a gentleman expressed his opinion that there was more 
 energy in that poem than could be expected from Mr. Wal- 
 pole; Mr. Warton, the late Laureat, observed, 'It may have 
 been written by Walpole, and buckram'd by Mason.' 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds having said that he took the altitude 
 of a man's taste by his stories and his wit, and of his under- 
 standing by the remarks which he repeated; being always 
 sure that he must be a weak man who quotes common things 
 with an emphasis as if they were oracles; Johnson agreed
 
 528 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 with him; and Sir Joshua having also observed that the real 
 character of a man was found out by his amusements, 
 Johnson added, 'Yes, Sir; no man is a hypocrite in his 
 pleasures.' 
 
 I have mentioned Johnson's general aversion to a pun. 
 He once, however, endured one of mine. When we were 
 talking of a numerous company in which he had distin- 
 guished himself highly, I said, 'Sir, you were a COD sur- 
 rounded by smelts. Is not this enough for you? at a time 
 too when you were not fishing for a compliment?' He 
 laughed at this with a complacent approbation. Old Mr. 
 Sheridan observed, upon my mentioning it to him, ' He liked 
 your compliment so well, he was willing to take it with pun 
 sauce.' For my own part, I think no innocent species of 
 wit or pleasantry should be suppressed; and that a good 
 pun may be admitted among the smaller excellencies of lively 
 conversation. 
 
 Mr. Burke uniformly shewed Johnson the greatest respect ; 
 and when Mr. Townshend, now Lord Sydney, at a period 
 when he was conspicuous in opposition, threw out some re- 
 flection in parliament upon the grant of a pension to a man 
 of such political principles as Johnson; Mr. Burke, though 
 then of the same party with Mr. Townshend, stood warmly 
 forth in defence of his friend, to whom, he justly observed, 
 the pension was granted solely on account of his eminent 
 literary merit. I am well assured, that Mr. Townshend's 
 attack upon Johnson was the occasion of his 'hitching in a 
 rhyme;' for, that in the original copy of Goldsmith's char- 
 acter of Mr. Burke, in his Retaliation, another person's name 
 stood in the couplet where Mr. Townshend is now intro- 
 duced : 
 
 'Though fraught with all learning kept straining his throat, 
 To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote.' 
 
 It may be worth remarking, among the minutiae of my 
 collection, that Johnson was once drawn to serve in the 
 militia, the Trained Bands of the City of London, and that 
 Mr. Rackstrow, of the Museum in Fleet-street, was hir
 
 1784] SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS'S DISCOURSE 529 
 
 Colonel. It may be believed he did not serve in person; 
 but the idea, with all its circumstances, is certainly laugh- 
 able. He upon that occasion provided himself with a musket, 
 and with a sword and belt, which I have seen hanging in 
 his closet. 
 
 An authour of most anxious and restless vanity being men- 
 tioned, 'Sir, (said he,) there is not a young sapling upon 
 Parnassus more severely blown about by every wind of 
 criticism than that poor fellow.' 
 
 The difference, he observed, between a well-bred and an ill- 
 bred man is this : ' One immediately attracts your liking, the 
 other your aversion. You love the one till you find reason 
 to hate him; you hate the other till you find reason to love 
 him.' 
 
 A foppish physician once reminded Johnson of his having 
 been in company with him on a former occasion; 'I do not 
 remember it, Sir.' The physician still insisted; adding that 
 he that day wore so fine a coat that it must have attracted 
 his notice. 'Sir, (said Johnson,) had you been dipt in Pac- 
 tolus I should not have noticed you.' 
 
 He seemed to take a pleasure in speaking in his own style; 
 for when he had carelessly missed it, he would repeat the 
 thought translated into it. Talking of the Comedy of The 
 Rehearsal, he said, 'It has not wit enough to keep it sweet.' 
 This was easy; he therefore caught himself, and pronounced 
 a more round sentence; 'It has not vitality enough to pre- 
 serve it from putrefaction.' 
 
 Though he had no taste for painting, he admired much the 
 manner in which Sir Joshua Reynolds treated of his art, in 
 his Discourses to the Royal Academy. He observed one day 
 of a passage in them, 'I think I might as well have said this 
 myself:' and once when Mr. Langton was sitting by him, he 
 read one of them very eagerly, and expressed himself thus: 
 'Very well, Master Reynolds; very well, indeed. But it 
 will not be understood.' 
 
 When I observed to him that Painting was so far inferiour 
 to Poetry, that the story or even emblem which it communi- 
 cates must be previously known, and mentioned as a natural 
 and laughable instance of this, that a little Miss on seeing
 
 530 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 & picture of Justice with the scales, had exclaimed to me, 
 'See, there's a woman selling sweetmeats;' he said, 'Paint- 
 ing, Sir, can illustrate, but cannot inform.' 
 
 No man was more ready to make an apology when he had 
 censured unjustly, than Johnson. When a proof-sheet of 
 one of his works was brought to him, he found fault with the 
 mode in which a part of it was arranged, refused to read it, 
 and hi a passion desired that the compositor might be sent 
 to him. The compositor was Mr. Manning, a decent sen- 
 sible man, who had composed about one half of his Dictionary, 
 when in Mr. Strahan's printing-house; and a great part of 
 his Lives of the Poets, when in that of Mr. Nichols; and who 
 (in his seventy-seventh year), when in Mr. Baldwin's print- 
 ing-house, composed a part of the first edition of this work 
 concerning him. By producing the manuscript, he at once 
 satisfied Dr. Johnson that he was not to blame. Upon 
 which Johnson candidly and earnestly said to him, 'Mr. 
 Compositor, I ask your pardon. Mr. Compositor, I ask your 
 pardon, again and again.' 
 
 His generous humanity to the miserable was almost be- 
 yond example. The following instance is well attested: 
 Coming home late one night, he found a poor woman lying 
 in the street, so much exhausted that she could not walk; 
 he took her upon his back, and carried her to his house, 
 where he discovered that she was one of those wretched 
 females who had fallen into the lowest state of vice, pov- 
 erty, and disease. Instead of harshly upbraiding her, he 
 had her taken care of with all tenderness for a long time, at 
 considerable expence, till she was restored to health, and 
 endeavoured to put her into a virtuous way of living. 
 
 He once in his life was known to have uttered what is 
 called a bidl: Sir Joshua Reynolds, when they were riding 
 together in Devonshire, complained that he had a very bad 
 horse, for that even when going down hill he moved slowly 
 step by step. 'Ay (said Johnson,) and when he goes up hill, 
 he stands still.' 
 
 He had a great aversion to gesticulating in company. He 
 called once to a gentleman who offended him in that point, 
 ''Don't attitudenise.' And when another gentleman thought
 
 1784] JOHNSON INCITES A RIOT 531 
 
 he was giving additional force to what he uttered, by ex- 
 pfessive movements of his hands, Johnson fairly seized them, 
 and held them down. 
 
 Mr. Steevens, who passed many a social hour with him 
 during their long acquaintance, which commenced when 
 they both lived in the Temple, has preserved a good number 
 of particulars concerning him, most of which are to be found 
 in the department of Apothegms, &c. in the Collection of 
 Johnson's Works. But he has been pleased to favour me 
 with the following, which are original: 
 
 'Dr. Johnson once assumed a character in which perhaps 
 even Mr. Boswell never saw him. His curiosity having been 
 excited by the praises bestowed on the celebrated Torre's 
 fireworks at Marybone-Gardens, he desired Mr. Steevens to 
 accompany him thither. The evening had proved showery; 
 and soon after the few people present were assembled, pub- 
 lick notice was given, that the conductors to the wheels, 
 suns, stars, &c., were so thoroughly water-soaked, that it 
 was impossible any part of the exhibition should be made. 
 "This is a mere excuse, (says the Doctor,) to save their 
 crackers for a more profitable company. Let us but hold up 
 our sticks, and threaten to break those coloured lamps that 
 surround the Orchestra, and we shall soon have our wishes 
 gratified. The. core of the fireworks cannot be injured; let 
 the different pieces be touched in their respective centers, 
 and they will do their offices as well as ever." Some young 
 men who overheard him, immediately began the violence 
 he had recommended, and an attempt was speedily made 
 to fire some of the wheels which appeared to have received 
 the smallest damage; but to little purpose were they lighted, 
 for most of them completely failed. The authour of The 
 Rambler, however, may be considered, on this occasion, as 
 the ringleader of a successful riot, though not as a skilful 
 pyrotechnist.' 
 
 'It has been supposed that Dr. Johnson, so far as fashion 
 was concerned, was careless of his appearance in publick. 
 But this is not altogether true, as the following slight instance 
 may show: Goldsmith's last Comedy was to be represented 
 during some court-mourning: and Mr. Steevens appointed
 
 532 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 to call on Dr. Johnson, and carry him to the tavern where he 
 was to dine with others of the Poet's friends. The Doctor 
 was ready dressed, but in coloured cloaths; yet being told 
 that he would find every one else in black, received the in- 
 telligence with a profusion of thanks, hastened to change his 
 attire, all the while repeating his gratitude for the informa- 
 tion that had saved him from an appearance so improper in 
 the front row of a front box. "I would not (added he,) for 
 ten pounds, have seemed so retrograde to any general ob- 
 servance." 
 
 'He would sometimes found his dislikes on very slender 
 circumstances. Happening one day to mention Mr. Flex- 
 man, a Dissenting Minister, with some compliment to his 
 exact memory in chronological matters; the Doctor replied, 
 "Let me hear no more of him, Sir. That is the fellow who 
 made the Index to my Ramblers, and set down the name of 
 Milton thus: Milton, Mr. John."' 
 
 In the course of this work a numerous variety of names 
 has been mentioned, to which many might be added. I can- 
 not omit Lord and Lady Lucan, at whose house he often 
 enjoyed all that an elegant table and the best company can 
 contribute to happiness; he found hospitality united with 
 extraordinary accomplishments, and embellished with charms 
 of which no man could be insensible. 
 
 On Tuesday, June 22, I dined with him at THE LITERARY 
 CLUB, the last time of his being in that respectable society. 
 The other members present were the Bishop of St. Asaph, 
 Lord Eliot, Lord Palmerston, Dr. Fordyce, and Mr. Malone. 
 He looked ill; but had such a manly fortitude, that he did 
 not trouble the company with melancholy complaints. They 
 all shewed evident marks of kind concern about him, with 
 which he was much pleased, and he exerted himself to be as 
 entertaining as his indisposition allowed him. 
 
 The anxiety of his friends to preserve so estimable a We, 
 as long as human means might be supposed to have influence, 
 made them plan for him a retreat from the severity of a 
 British winter, to the mild climate of Italy. This scheme 
 was at last brought to a serious resolution at General Paoli's, 
 where I had often talked of it. One essential matter, how-
 
 1784] APPLICATION TO THURLOW 533 
 
 ever, I understood was necessary to,. be previously settled, 
 which was obtaining such an addition to his income, as 
 would be sufficient to enable him to defray the expence in a 
 manner becoming the first literary character of a great nation, 
 and independent of all his other merits, the Authour of THE 
 DICTIONARY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. The person to 
 whom I above all others thought I should apply to negociate 
 this business, was the Lord Chancellor, because I knew that 
 he highly valued Johnson, and that Johnson highly valued 
 his Lordship; so that it was no degradation of my illustrious 
 friend to solicit for him the favour of such a man. I have 
 mentioned what Johnson said of him to me when he was at 
 the bar; and after his Lordship was advanced to the seals, 
 he said of him, 'I would prepare myself for no man in Eng- 
 land but Lord Thurlow. When I am to meet with him I 
 should wish to know a day before.' How he would have 
 prepared himself I cannot conjecture. Would he have se- 
 lected certain topicks, and considered them in every view 
 so as to be in readiness to argue them at all points ? and what 
 may we suppose those topicks to have been? I once started 
 the curious inquiry to the great man who was the subject 
 of this compliment: he smiled, but did not pursue it. 
 
 I first consulted with Sir Joshua Reynolds, who perfectly 
 coincided in opinion with me; and I therefore, though per- 
 sonally very little known to his Lordship, wrote to him, 
 stating the case, and requesting his good offices for Dr. John- 
 son. I mentioned that I was obliged to set out for Scotland 
 early in the following week, so that if his Lordship should 
 have any commands for me as to this pious negociation, he 
 would be pleased to send them before that time; otherwise 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds would give all attention to it. 
 
 This application was made not only without any sugges- 
 tion on the part of Johnson himself, but was utterly unknown 
 to him, nor had he the smallest suspicion of it. Any insinua- 
 tions, therefore, which since his death have been thrown out, 
 as if he had stooped to ask what was superfluous, are without 
 any foundation. But, had he asked it, it would not have 
 been superfluous; for though the money he had saved 
 proved to be more than his friends imagined, or than I be-
 
 534 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 lieve he himself, in his carelessness concerning worldly matters, 
 knew it to be, had he travelled upon the Continent, an aug- 
 mentation of his income would by no means have been un- 
 necessary. 
 
 On Thursday, June 24, I dined with him at Mr. Dilly's, 
 where were the Rev. Mr. (now Dr.) Knox, master of Tun- 
 bridge-school, Mr. Smith, Vicar of Southill, Dr. Beattie, 
 Mr. Pinkerton, authour of various literary performances, 
 and the Rev. Dr. Mayo. At my desire old Mr. Sheridan was 
 invited, as I was earnest to have Johnson and him brought 
 together again by chance, that a reconciliation might be 
 effected. Mr. Sheridan happened to come early, and having 
 learned that Dr. Johnson was to be there, went away; so 
 I found, with sincere regret, that my friendly intentions were 
 hopeless. I recollect nothing that passed this day, except 
 Johnson's quickness, who, when Dr. Beattie observed, as 
 something remarkable which had happened to him, that he 
 had chanced to see both No. 1, and No. 1000, of the hackney- 
 coaches, the first and the last; 'Why, Sir, (said Johnson,) 
 there is an equal chance for one's seeing those two numbers 
 as any other two.' 
 
 On Friday, June 25, I dined with him at General Paoli's, 
 where, he says in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, ' I love to 
 dine.' There was a variety of dishes much to his taste, of 
 all which he seemed to me to eat so much, that I was afraid 
 he might be hurt by it; and I whispered to the General my 
 fear, and begged he might not press him. 'Alas! (said the 
 General,) see how very ill he looks; he can live but a very 
 short time. Would you refuse any slight gratifications to a 
 man under sentence of death? There is a humane custom 
 in Italy, by which persons in that melancholy situation are 
 indulged with having whatever they like best to eat and 
 drink, even with expensive delicacies.' 
 
 On Sunday, June 27, I found him rather better. I men- 
 tioned to him a young man who was going to Jamaica with 
 his wife and children, in expectation of being provided for by 
 two of her brothers settled in that island, one a clergyman, 
 and the other a physician. JOHNSON. ' It is a wild scheme, 
 Sir, unless he has a positive and deliberate invitation. There
 
 1*54] DINNER AT SIR JOSHUA'S 535 
 
 was a poor girl, who used to come about me, who had a 
 cousin in Barbadoes, that, in a letter to her, expressed a 
 wish she should come out to that Island, and expatiated on 
 the comforts and happiness of her situation. The poor girl 
 went out: her cousin was much surprised, and asked her 
 how she could think of coming. "Because, (said she,) you 
 invited me." "Not I," answered the cousin. The letter 
 was then produced. "I see it is true, (said she,) that I did 
 invite you: but I did not think you would come." They 
 lodged her in an out-house, where she passed her time miser- 
 ably; and as soon as she had an opportunity she returned to 
 England. Always tell this, when you hear of people going 
 abroad to relations, upon a notion of being well received. 
 In the case which you mention, it is probable the clergyman 
 spends all he gets, and the physician does not know how much 
 he is to get.' 
 
 We this day dined at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, with General 
 Paoli, Lord Eliot, (formerly Mr. Eliot, of Port Eliot,) Dr. 
 Beattie, and some other company. Talking of Lord Ches- 
 terfield; JOHNSON. 'His manner was exquisitely elegant, 
 and he had more knowledge than I expected.' BOSWELL. 
 'Did you find, Sir, his conversation to be of a superiour 
 style?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, in the conversation which I had 
 with him I had the best right to superiority, for it was upon 
 philology and literature.' Lord Eliot, who had travelled at 
 the same time with Mr. Stanhope, Lord Chesterfield's natural 
 son, justly observed, that it was strange that a man who 
 shewed he had so much affection for his son as Lord Chester- 
 field did, by writing so many long and anxious letters to him, 
 almost all of them when he was Secretary of State, which 
 certainly was a proof of great goodness of disposition, should 
 endeavour to make his son a rascal. His Lordship told us, 
 that Foote had intended to bring on the stage a father who 
 had thus tutored his son, and to shew the son an honest man 
 to every one else, but practising his father's maxims upon 
 him, and cheating him. JOHNSON. 'I am much pleased 
 with this design; but I think there was no occasion to make 
 the son honest at all. No; he should be a consummate 
 rogue: the contrast between honesty and knavery would be
 
 536 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 the stronger. It should be contrived so that the father should 
 be the only sufferer by the son's villainy, and thus there 
 would be poetical justice.' 
 
 A young gentleman present took up the argument against 
 him, and maintained that no man ever thinks of the nose of 
 the mind, not adverting that though that figurative sense 
 seems strange to us, as very unusual, it is truly not more 
 forced than Hamlet's 'In my mind's eye, Horatio.' He per- 
 sisted much too long, and appeared to Johnson as putting 
 himself forward as his antagonist with too much presump- 
 tion; upon which he called to him in a loud tone, 'What is 
 it you are contending for, if you be contending ? ' And after- 
 wards imagining that the gentleman retorted upon him with 
 a kind of smart drollery, he said, ' Mr. *****, it does not be- 
 come you to talk so to me. Besides, ridicule is not your 
 talent; you have there neither intuition nor sagacity.' The 
 gentleman protested that he had intended no improper free- 
 dom, but had the greatest respect for Dr. Johnson. After 
 a short pause, during which we were somewhat uneasy, 
 JOHNSON. ' Give me your hand, Sir. You were too tedious, 
 and I was too short.' MR. *****. 'Sir, I am honoured by 
 your attention in any way.' JOHNSON. 'Come, Sir, let's 
 have no more of it. We offended one another by our con- 
 tention; let us not offend the company by our compli- 
 ments.' 
 
 He now said, ' He wished much to go to Italy, and that he 
 dreaded passing the winter in England.' I said nothing; but 
 enjoyed a secret satisfaction in thinking that I had taken the 
 most effectual measures to make such a scheme practicable. 
 
 On Monday, June 28, I had the honour to receive from the 
 Lord Chancellor the following letter: 
 
 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 
 
 'SiR, I should have answered your letter immediately, if 
 (being much engaged when I received it) I had not put it in 
 my pocket, and forgot to open it till this morning. 
 
 'I am much obliged to you for the suggestion; and I will 
 adopt and press it as far as I can. The best argument, I am
 
 1784] JOHNSON'S EMOTION 537 
 
 sure, and I hope it is not likely to fail, is Dr. Johnson's merit. 
 But it will be necessary, if I should be so unfortunate as to 
 miss seeing you, to converse with Sir Joshua on the sum it 
 will be proper to ask, in short, upon the means of setting 
 him out. It would be a reflection on us all, if such a man 
 should perish for want of the means to take care of his 
 health. Yours, &c. 'THURLOW.' 
 
 This letter gave me a very high satisfaction; I next day 
 went and shewed it to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was ex- 
 ceedingly pleased with it. He thought that I should now 
 communicate the negociation to Dr. Johnson, who might 
 afterwards complain if the attention with which he had been 
 honoured, should be too long concealed from him. I in- 
 tended to set out for Scotland next morning; but Sir Joshua 
 cordially insisted that I should stay another day, that John- 
 son and I might dine with him, that we three might talk of 
 his Italian Tour, and, as Sir Joshua expressed himself, 'have 
 it all out.' I hastened to Johnson, and was told by him that 
 he was rather better to-day. BOSWELL. ' I am very anxious 
 about you, Sir, and particularly that you should go to Italy 
 for the winter, which I believe is your own wish.' JOHNSON. 
 'It is, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'You have no objection, I presume, 
 but the money it would require.' JOHNSON. 'Why, no, 
 Sir.' Upon which I gave him a particular account of what 
 had been done, and read to him the Lord Chancellor's letter. 
 He listened with much attention ; then warmly said, ' This is 
 taking prodigious pains about a man.' '0! Sir, (said I, 
 with most sincere affection,) your friends would do every 
 thing for you.' He paused, grew more and more agitated, 
 till tears started into his eyes, and he exclaimed with fervent 
 emotion, 'Goo bless you all.' I was so affected that I also 
 shed tears. After a short silence, he renewed and extended 
 his grateful benediction, 'GoD bless you all, for JESUS 
 CHRIST'S sake.' We both remained for some time unable to 
 speak. He rose suddenly and quitted the room, quite melted 
 in tenderness. He staid but a short time, till he had re- 
 covered his firmness; soon after he returned I left him, 
 having first engaged him to dine at Sir Joshua Reynolds's,
 
 538 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ITS* 
 
 next day. I never was again under that roof which I had so 
 long reverenced. 
 
 On Wednesday, June 30, the friendly confidential dinner 
 with Sir Joshua Reynolds took place, no other company 
 being present. Had I known that this was the last time 
 that I should enjoy in this world, the conversation of a friend 
 whom I so much respected, and from whom I derived so 
 much instruction and entertainment, I should have been 
 deeply affected. When I now look back to it, I am vexed 
 that a single word should have been forgotten. 
 
 Both Sir Joshua and I were so sanguine in our expectations, 
 that we expatiated with confidence on the liberal provision 
 which we were sure would be made for him, conjecturing 
 whether munificence would be displayed in one large dona- 
 tion, or in an ample increase of his pension. He himself 
 catched so much of our enthusiasm, as to allow himself to 
 suppose it not impossible that our hopes might in one way or 
 other be realised. He said that he would rather have his 
 pension doubled than a grant of a thousand pounds; 'For, 
 (said he,) though probably I may not live to receive as 
 much as a thousand pounds, a man would have the con- 
 sciousness that he should pass the remainder of his life in 
 splendour, how long soever it might be.' Considering what 
 a moderate proportion an income of six hundred pounds 
 a year bears to innumerable fortunes in this country, it is 
 worthy of remark, that a man so truly great should think it 
 splendour. 
 
 As an instance of extraordinary liberality of friendship, he 
 told us, that Dr. Brocklesby had upon this occasion offered 
 him a hundred a year for his life. A grateful tear started 
 into his eye, as he spoke this in a faultering tone. 
 
 Sir Joshua and I endeavoured to flatter his imagination 
 with agreeable prospects of happiness in Italy. 'Nay, (said 
 he,) I must not expect much of that; when a man goes to 
 Italy merely to feel how he breathes the air, he can enjoy 
 very little.' 
 
 Our conversation turned upon living in the country, which 
 Johnson, whose melancholy mind required the dissipation of 
 quick successive variety, had habituated himself to consider
 
 1784] MRS. THRALE'S ENGAGEMENT 539 
 
 as a kind of mental imprisonment. 'Yet, Sir, (said I,) there 
 are many people who are content to live in the country.' 
 JOHNSON. ' Sir, it is in the intellectual world as in the phys- 
 ical world; we are told by natural philosophers that a body 
 is at rest in the place that is fit for it; they who are content 
 to live in the country, are fit for the country.' 
 
 Talking of various enjoyments, I argued that a refinement 
 of taste was a disadvantage, as they who have attained to it 
 must be seldomer pleased than those who have no nice dis- 
 crimination, and are therefore satisfied with every thing that 
 comes in their way. JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; that is a paltry 
 notion. Endeavour to be as perfect as you can in every 
 respect.' 
 
 I accompanied him in Sir Joshua Reynolds's coach, to the 
 entry of Bolt-court. He asked me whether I would not go 
 with him to his house; I declined it, from an apprehension 
 that my spirits would sink. We bade adieu to each other 
 affectionately in the carriage. When he had got down upon 
 the foot-pavement, he called out, 'Fare you well;' and with- 
 out looking back, sprung away with a kind of pathetick 
 briskness, if I may use that expression, which seemed to 
 indicate a struggle to conceal uneasiness, and impressed me 
 with a foreboding of our long, long separation. 
 
 I remained one day more in town, to have the chance of 
 talking over my negociation with the Lord Chancellor; but 
 the multiplicity of his Lordship's important engagements 
 did not allow of it; so I left the management of the business 
 in the hands of Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 Soon after this time Dr. Johnson had the mortification of 
 being informed by Mrs. Thrale, that, ' what she supposed he 
 never believed,' was true; namely, that she was actually 
 going to marry Signer Piozzi, an Italian musick-master. He 
 endeavoured to prevent it; but in vain. If she would pub- 
 lish the whole of the correspondence that passed between 
 Dr. Johnson and her on the subject, we should have a full 
 view of his real sentiments. As it is, our judgement must be 
 biassed by that characteristick specimen which Sir John 
 Hawkins has given us : ' Poor Thrale ! I thought that either 
 her virtue or her vice would have restrained her from such
 
 540 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 a marriage. She is now become a subject for her enemies to 
 exult over; and for her friends, if she has any left, to forget, 
 or pity.' 
 
 It must be admitted that Johnson derived a considerable 
 portion of happiness from the comforts and elegancies which 
 he enjoyed in Mr. Thrale's family; but Mrs. Thrale assures 
 us he was indebted for these to her husband alone, who cer- 
 tainly respected him sincerely. 
 
 Having left the pious negotiation, as I called it, in the best 
 hands, I shall here insert what relates to it. Johnson wrote 
 to Sir Joshua Reynolds on July 6, as follows: 
 
 'I am going, I hope, in a few days, to try the air of Derby- 
 shire, but hope to see you before I go. Let me, however, 
 mention to you what I have much at heart. If the Chan- 
 cellor should continue his attention to Mr. Boswell's request, 
 and confer with you on the means of relieving my languid 
 state, I am very desirous to avoid the appearance of asking 
 money upon false pretences. I desire you to represent to 
 his Lordship, what, as soon as it is suggested, he will per- 
 ceive to be reasonable, That, if I grow much worse, I shall 
 be afraid to leave my physicians, to suffer the inconveniences 
 of travel, and pine in the solitude of a foreign country; That, 
 if I grow much better, of which indeed there is now little 
 appearance, I shall not wish to leave my friends and my 
 domestick comforts; for I do not travel for pleasure or 
 curiosity; yet if I should recover, curiosity would revive. 
 In my present state, I am desirous to make a struggle for a 
 little longer life, and hope to obtain some help from a softer 
 climate. Do for me what you can.' 
 
 By a letter from Sir Joshua Reynolds I was informed, that 
 the Lord Chancellor had called on him, and acquainted him 
 that the application had not been successful; but that his 
 Lordship, after speaking highly in praise of Johnson, as a 
 man who was an honour to his country, desired Sir Joshua to 
 let him know, that on granting a mortgage of his pension, he 
 should draw on his Lordship to the amount of five or six 
 hundred pounds; and that his Lordship explained the 
 meaning of the mortgage to be, that he wished the business 
 to be conducted in such a manner, that Dr. Johnson should
 
 1784] JOHNSON'S REPLY 541 
 
 appear to be under the least possible obligation. Sir Joshua 
 mentioned, that he had by the same post communicated all 
 this to Dr. Johnson. 
 
 How Johnson was affected upon the occasion will appear 
 from what he wrote to Sir Joshua Reynolds: 
 
 'Ashbourne, Sept. 9. Many words I hope are not neces- 
 sary between you and me, to convince you what gratitude is 
 excited in my heart by the Chancellor's liberality, and your 
 kind offices. . . . 
 
 'I have enclosed a letter to the Chancellor, which, when 
 you have read it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, 
 or any other general seal, and convey it to him: had I sent 
 it directly to him, I should have seemed to overlook the 
 favour of your intervention.' 
 
 'To THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR. 
 
 'My LORD, After a long and not inattentive observation 
 of mankind, the generosity of your Lordship's offer raises in 
 me not less wonder than gratitude. Bounty, so liberally 
 bestowed, I should gladly receive, if my condition made it 
 necessary; for, to such a mind, who would not be proud to 
 own his obligations? But it has pleased GOD to restore me 
 to so great a measure of health, that if I should now appro- 
 priate so much of a fortune destined to do good, I could not 
 escape from myself the charge of advancing a false claim. 
 My journey to the continent, though I once thought it neces- 
 sary, was never much encouraged by my physicians; and 
 I was very desirous that your Lordship should be told of it 
 by Sir Joshua Reynolds, as an event very uncertain; for if 
 I grew much better, I should not be willing, if much worse, 
 not able, to migrate. Your Lordship was first solicited with- 
 out my knowledge; but, when I was told that you were 
 pleased to honour me with your patronage, I did not expect 
 to hear of a refusal ; yet, as I have had no long time to brood 
 hope, and have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold 
 reception has been scarce a disappointment; and, from your 
 Lordship's kindness, I have received a benefit, which only 
 men like you are able to bestow. I shall now live mihi carior,
 
 542 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [ITS* 
 
 with a higher opinion of my own merit. I am, my Lord, 
 your Lordship's most obliged, most grateful, and most hum- 
 ble servant, 
 
 'September, 1784.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 Upon this unexpected failure I abstain from presuming to 
 make any remarks, or to offer any conjectures. 
 
 Let us now contemplate Johnson thirty years after the 
 death of his wife, still retaining for her all the tenderness of 
 affection. 
 
 'To THE REVEREND MR. BAGSHAW, AT BROMLEY. 
 
 'SiR, Perhaps you may remember, that in the year 1753, 
 you committed to the ground my dear wife. I now entreat 
 your permission to lay a stone upon her; and have sent the 
 inscription, that, if you find it proper, you may signify your 
 allowance. 
 
 ' You will do me a great favour by showing the place where 
 she lies, that the stone may protect her remains. 
 
 'Mr. Ryland will wait on you for the inscription, and 
 procure it to be engraved. You will easily believe that I 
 shrink from this mournful office. When it is done, if I have 
 strength remaining, I will visit Bromley once again, and 
 pay you part of the respect to which you have a right from, 
 Reverend Sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 'July 12, 1784.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 Next day he set out on a jaunt to Staffordshire and Derby- 
 shire, flattering himself that he might be in some degree 
 relieved. 
 
 During his absence from London he kept up a corre- 
 spondence with several of his friends, from which I shall 
 select what appears to me proper for publication, without 
 attending nicely to chronological order. 
 
 To DR. BROCKLESBY, he writes, Ashbourne, Sept. 9: 
 
 ' Do you know the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire ? And 
 have you ever seen Chatsworth? I was at Chatsworth on
 
 1784] LETTERS TO DR. BROCKLESBY 543 
 
 Monday: I had indeed seen it before, but never when its 
 owners were at home; I was very kindly received, and hon- 
 estly pressed to stay: but I told them that a sick man is 
 not a fit inmate of a great house. But I hope to go again 
 some time.' 
 
 Sept. 11. 'I think nothing grows worse, but all rather 
 better, except sleep, and that of late has been at its old 
 pranks. Last evening, I felt what I had not known for a 
 long time, an inclination to walk for amusement; I took a 
 short walk, and came back again neither breathless nor 
 fatigued. This has been a gloomy, frigid, ungenial summer, 
 but of late it seems to mend; I hear the heat sometimes 
 mentioned, but I do not feel it: 
 
 " Prceterea minimus gelido jam in corpore sanguis 
 Febre calet sold. " 
 
 I hope, however, with good help, to find means of supporting 
 a winter at home, and to hear and tell at the Club what is 
 doing, and what ought to be doing in the world. I have no 
 company here, and shall naturally come home hungry for 
 conversation. To wish you, dear Sir, more leisure, would 
 not be kind; but what leisure you have, you must bestow 
 upon me.' 
 
 Lichfield, Sept. 29. 'On one day I had three letters about 
 the air-balloon: yours was far the best, and has enabled me 
 to impart to my friends in the country an idea of this species 
 of amusement. In amusement, mere amusement, I am 
 afraid it must end, for I do not find that its course can be 
 directed so as that it should serve any purposes of communi- 
 cation; and it can give no new intelligence of the state of the 
 air at different heights, till they have ascended above the 
 height of mountains, which they seeni never likely to do. 
 I came hither on the 27th. How long I shall stay I have not 
 determined. My dropsy is gone, and my asthma much re- 
 mitted, but I have felt myself a little declining these two 
 days, or at least to-day; but such vicissitudes must be ex- 
 pected. One day may be worse than another; but this last 
 month is far better than the former; if the next should be
 
 544 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 as much better than this, I shall run about the town on my 
 own legs.' 
 
 October 25. 'You write to me with a zeal that animates, 
 and a tenderness that melts me. I am not afraid either of 
 a journey to London, or a residence in it. I came down with 
 little fatigue, and am now not weaker. In the smoky atmos- 
 phere I was delivered from the dropsy, which I consider as 
 the original and radical disease. The town is my element 1 ; 
 there are my friends, there are my books, to which I have 
 not yet bid farewell, and there are my amusements. Sir 
 Joshua told me long ago that my vocation was to publick 
 life, and I hope still to keep my station, till GOD shall bid 
 me Go in peace' 
 
 To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS: 
 
 Ashbourne, Sept. 2. '. . . I still continue by GOD'S 
 mercy to mend. My breath is easier, my nights are quieter, 
 and my legs are less in bulk, and stronger in use. I have, 
 however, yet a great deal to overcome, before I can yet at- 
 tain even an old man's health. Write, do write to me now 
 and then; we are now old acquaintance, and perhaps few 
 people have lived so much and so long together, with less 
 cause of complaint on either side. The retrospection of this 
 is very pleasant, and I hope we shall never think on each 
 other with less kindness.' 
 
 Sept. 9. 'I could not answer your letter before this day, 
 because I went on the sixth to Chatsworth, and did not come 
 back till the post was gone. Many words, I hope, are not 
 necessary between you and me, to convince you what grati- 
 tude is excited in my heart, by the Chancellor's liberality 
 
 1 His love of London continually appears. In a letter from him to 
 Mrs. Smart, wife of his friend the Poet, which Is published In a well- 
 written life of him, prefixed to an edition of his Poems, In 1791, there 
 Is the following sentence: 'To one that has passed so many years in 
 the pleasures and opulence of London, there are few places that can 
 give much delight.' 
 
 Once, upon reading that line In the curious epitaph quoted in The 
 Spectator, 
 
 ' Born in New-England, did In London die ; ' 
 
 he laughed and said, ' I do not wonder at this. It would have been 
 strange, if born in London, he had died in New-England.' BOSWELL.
 
 1784] LETTERS TO SIR JOSHUA 545 
 
 and your kind offices. I did not indeed expect that what 
 was asked by the Chancellor would have been refused, but 
 since it has, we will not tell that any thing has been asked. 
 I have enclosed a letter to the Chancellor which, when you 
 have read it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, or other 
 general seal, and convey it to him; had I sent it directly to 
 him, I should have seemed to overlook the favour of your 
 intervention. I do not despair of supporting an Eng- 
 lish winter. At Chatsworth, I met young Mr. Burke, who 
 led me very commodiously into conversation with the Duke 
 and Duchess. We had a very good morning. The dinner 
 was publick.' 
 
 Sept. 18. 'I have three letters this day, all about the 
 balloon, I could have been content with one. Do not write 
 about the balloon, whatever else you may think proper to 
 say.' 
 
 It may be observed, that his writing in every way, whether 
 for the publick, or privately to his friends, was by fits and 
 starts; for we see frequently, that many letters are written 
 on the same day. When he had once overcome his aversion 
 to begin, he was, I suppose, desirous to go on, in order to 
 relieve his mind from the uneasy reflection of delaying what 
 he ought to do. 
 
 We now behold Johnson for the last time, in his native city, 
 for which he ever retained a warm affection, and which, by 
 a sudden apostrophe, under the word Lich, he introduces 
 with reverence, into his immortal Work, THE ENGLISH 
 DICTIONARY: Salve, magna parens! While here, he felt a 
 revival of all the tenderness of filial affection, an instance 
 of which appeared in his ordering the grave-stone and in- 
 scription over Elizabeth Blaney 1 to be substantially and 
 carefully renewed. 
 
 To Mr. Henry White, a young clergyman, with whom he 
 now formed an intimacy, so as to talk to him with great free- 
 dom, he mentioned that he could not in general accuse him- 
 self of having been an undutiful son. 'Once, indeed, (said 
 he,) I was disobedient; I refused to attend my father to 
 Uttoxeter-market. Pride was the source of that refusal, 
 
 His mother. ED.
 
 546 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON 11794 
 
 and the remembrance of it was painful. A few years ago, 
 I desired to atone for this fault; I went to Uttoxeter in very 
 bad weather, and stood for a considerable time bareheaded 
 in the rain, on the spot where my father's stall used to 
 stand. In contrition I stood, and I hope the penance was 
 expiatory.' 
 
 'I told him (says Miss Seward) in one of my latest visits 
 to him, of a wonderful learned pig, which I had seen at 
 Nottingham; and which did all that we have observed ex- 
 hibited by dogs and horses. The subject amused him. 
 "Then, (said he,) the pigs are a race unjustly calumniated. 
 Pig has, it seems, not been wanting to man, but man to pig. 
 We do not allow time for his education, we kill him at a 
 year old." Mr. Henry White, who was present, observed 
 that if this instance had happened in or before Pope's time, 
 he would not have been justified in instancing the swine as 
 the lowest degree of groveling instinct. Dr. Johnson seemed 
 pleased with the observation, while the person who made 
 it proceeded to remark, that great torture must have been 
 employed, ere the indocility of the animal could have been 
 subdued. "Certainly, (said the Doctor;) but, (turning to 
 me,) how old is your pig?" I told him, three years old. 
 "Then, (said he,) the pig has no cause to complain; he would 
 have been killed the first year if he had not been educated, 
 and protracted existence is a good recompence for very con- 
 siderable degrees of torture." ' 
 
 As Johnson had now very faint hopes of recovery, and as 
 Mrs. Thrale was no longer devoted to him, it might have 
 been supposed that he would naturally have chosen to re- 
 main in the comfortable house of his beloved wife's daughter, 
 and end his life where he began it. But there was in him an 
 animated and lofty spirit, and however complicated diseases 
 might depress ordinary mortals, all who saw him, beheld and 
 acknowledged the invictum animum Catonis. Such was his 
 intellectual ardour even at this time, that he said to one 
 friend, 'Sir, I look upon every day to be lost, in which I do 
 not make a new acquaintance;' and to another, when talk- 
 ing of his illness, 'I will be conquered; I will not capitulate.' 
 And such was his love of London, so high a relish had he of
 
 1784] HIS LOFTY SPIRIT 547 
 
 its magnificent extent, and variety of intellectual entertain- 
 ment, that he languished when absent from it, his mind 
 having become quite luxurious from the long habit of en- 
 joying the metropolis; and, therefore, although at Lichfield, 
 surrounded with friends, who loved and revered him, and 
 for whom he had a very sincere affection, he still found that 
 such conversation as London affords, could be found no 
 where else. These feelings, joined, probably, to some flat- 
 tering hopes of aid from the eminent physicians and sur- 
 geons in London, who kindly and generously attended him 
 without accepting fees, made him resolve to return to the 
 capital. 
 
 From Lichfield he came to Birmingham, where he passed 
 a few days with his worthy old schoolfellow, Mr. Hector, who 
 thus writes to me: 'He was very solicitous with me to 
 recollect some of our most early transactions, and transmit 
 them to him, for I perceive nothing gave him greater pleasure 
 than calling to mind those days of our innocence. I com- 
 plied with his request, and he only received them a few days 
 before his death. I have transcribed for your inspection, 
 exactly the minutes I wrote to him.' This paper having 
 been found in his repositories after his death, Sir John Haw- 
 kins has inserted it entire, and I have made occasional use of 
 it and other communications from Mr. Hector, in the course 
 of this Work. I have both visited and corresponded with 
 him since Dr. Johnson's death, and by my inquiries con- 
 cerning a great variety of particulars have obtained addi- 
 tional information. I followed the same mode with the 
 Reverend Dr. Taylor, in whose presence I wrote down a 
 good deal of what he could tell; and he, at my request, 
 signed his name, to give it authenticity. It is very rare to 
 find any person who is able to give a distinct account of the 
 life even of one whom he has known intimately, without 
 questions being put to them. My friend Dr. Kippis has 
 told me, that on this account it is a practice with him to draw 
 out a biographical catechism. 
 
 Johnson then proceeded to Oxford, where he was again 
 kindly received by Dr. Adams. 
 
 He arrived in London on the 16th of November, and next
 
 548 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 day sent to Dr. Burney the following note, which I insert as 
 the last token of his remembrance of that ingenious and 
 amiable man, and as another of the many proofs of the ten^ 
 derness and benignity of his heart: 
 
 'MR. JOHNSON, who came home last night, sends his re- 
 spects to dear Dr. Burney, and all the dear Burneys, little 
 and great.' 
 
 Having written to him, in bad spirits, a letter filled with 
 dejection and fretfulness, and at the same time expressing 
 anxious apprehensions concerning him, on account of a 
 dream which had disturbed me; his answer was chiefly in 
 terms of reproach, for a supposed charge of 'affecting dis- 
 content, and indulging the vanity of complaint.' It, how- 
 ever, proceeded, 
 
 'Write to me often, and write like a man. I consider your 
 fidelity and tenderness as a great part of the comforts which 
 are yet left me, and sincerely wish we could be nearer to each 
 other. . . . My dear friend, life is very short and very 
 uncertain; let us spend it as well as we can. My worthy 
 neighbour, Allen, is dead. Love me as well as you can. 
 Pay my respects to dear Mrs. Boswell. Nothing ailed me 
 at that time; let your superstition at last have an end.' 
 
 Feeling very soon, that the manner in which he had written 
 might hurt me, he two days afterwards, July 28, wrote to me 
 again, giving me an account of his sufferings; after which, 
 he thus proceeds: 
 
 'Before this letter, you wiH have had one which I hope 
 you will not take amiss; for it contains only truth, and that 
 truth kindly intended. . . . Spartam quam nactus es orna ; 
 make the most and best of your lot, and compare yourself 
 not with the few that are above you, but with the multitudes 
 which are below you.' 
 
 Yet it was not a little painful to me to find, that ... he 
 still persevered in arraigning me as before, which was strange 
 in him who had so much experience of what I suffered. I, 
 however, wrote to him two as kind letters as I could; the 
 last of which came too late to be read by him, for his illness 
 encreased more rapidly upon him than I had apprehended; 
 but I had the consolation of being informed that he spoke of
 
 1784] KNOWLEDGE OF GREEK 549 
 
 me on his death-bed, with affection, and I look forward with 
 humble hope of renewing our friendship in a better world. 
 
 Soon after Johnson's return to the metropolis, both the 
 asthma and dropsy became more violent and distressful. 
 
 During his sleepless nights he amused himself by trans- 
 lating into Latin verse, from the Greek, many of the epi- 
 grams in the Anthologia. These translations, with some 
 other poems by him in Latin, he gave to his friend Mr. Lang- 
 ton, who, having added a few notes, sold them to the book- 
 sellers for a small sum, to be given to some of Johnson's 
 relations, which was accordingly done; and they are printed 
 in the collection of his works. 
 
 A very erroneous notion has circulated as to Johnson's 
 deficiency in the knowledge of the Greek language, partly 
 owing to the modesty with which, from knowing how much 
 there was to be learnt, he used to mention his own compara- 
 tive acquisitions. When Mr. Cumberland talked to him of 
 the Greek fragments which are so well illustrated in The 
 Observer, and of the Greek dramatists in general, he candidly 
 acknowledged his insufficiency in that particular branch of 
 Greek literature. Yet it may be said, that though not a 
 great, he was a good Greek scholar. Dr. Charles Burney, 
 the younger, who is universally acknowledged by the best 
 judges to be one of the few men of this age who are very 
 eminent for their skill in that noble language, has assured 
 me, that Johnson could give a Greek word for almost every 
 English one; and that although not sufficiently conversant 
 in the niceties of the language, he upon some occasions dis- 
 covered, even in these, a considerable degree of critical 
 acumen. Mr. Dalzel, Professor of Greek at Edinburgh, 
 whose skill in it is unquestionable, mentioned to me, in very 
 liberal terms, the impression which was made upon him by 
 Johnson, in a conversation which they had in London con- 
 cerning that language. As Johnson, therefore, was undoubt- 
 edly one of the first Latin scholars in modern times, let us 
 not deny to his fame some additional splendour from Greek. 
 
 The ludicrous imitators of Johnson's style are innumer- 
 able. Their general method is to accumulate hard words,
 
 550 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [17S4 
 
 without considering, that, although he was fond of intro- 
 ducing them occasionally, there is not a single sentence in all 
 his writings where they are crowded together, as in the first 
 verse of the following imaginary Ode by him to Mrs. Thrale, 
 which appeared in the newspapers: 
 
 'Cervisial coclor's viduate dame, 
 Opin'st thou this gigantick frame, 
 
 Procumbing at thy shrine: 
 Shall, catenated by thy charms, 
 A captive in thy ambient arms, 
 
 Perennially be thine?' 
 
 This, and a thousand other such attempts, are totally un- 
 like the original, which the writers imagined they were turn- 
 ing into ridicule. There is not similarity enough for bur- 
 lesque, or even for caricature. 
 
 'To MR. GREEN, APOTHECARY, AT LICHFIELD. 
 
 'DEAR SIR, I have enclosed the Epitaph for my Father, 
 Mother, and Brother, to be all engraved on the large size, 
 and laid in the middle aisle in St. Michael's church, which 
 I request the clergyman and churchwardens to permit. 
 
 'The first care must be to find the exact place of inter- 
 ment, that the stone may protect the bodies. Then let the 
 stone be deep, massy, and hard; and do not let the differ- 
 ence of ten pounds, or more, defeat our purpose. 
 
 'I have enclosed ten pounds, and Mrs. Porter will pay 
 you ten more, which I gave her for the same purpose. What 
 more is wanted shall be sent; and I beg that all possible 
 haste may be made, for I wish to have it done while I am yet 
 alive. Let me know, dear Sir, that you receive this. I am, 
 Sir, your most humble servant, 
 
 'Dec. 2, 1784.' 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 
 
 Death had always been to him an object of terrour; so 
 that, though by no means happy, he still clung to life with 
 an eagerness at which many have wondered. At any time 
 when he was ill, he was very much pleased to be told that he 
 looked better. An ingenious member of the Eumelian Club,
 
 1784] HIS COURAGE 551 
 
 informs me, that upon one occasion when he said to him 
 that he saw health returning to his cheek, Johnson seized 
 him by the hand and exclaimed, 'Sir, you are one of the 
 kindest friends I ever had.' 
 
 Dr. Heberden, Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Warren, and Dr. But- 
 ter, physicians, generously attended him, without accepting 
 any fees, as did Mr. Cruikshank, surgeon; and all that could 
 be done from professional skill and ability, was tried, to 
 prolong a life so truly valuable. He himself, indeed, having, 
 on account of his very bad constitution, been perpetually 
 applying himself to medical inquiries, united his own efforts, 
 with those of the gentlemen who attended him; and imagin- 
 ing that the dropsical collection of water which oppressed 
 him might be drawn off by making incisions in his body, he, 
 with his usual resolute defiance of pain, cut deep, when he 
 thought that his surgeon had done it too tenderly. 1 
 
 About eight or ten days before his death, when Dr. Brock- 
 lesby paid him his morning visit, he seemed very low and 
 desponding, and said, 'I have been as a dying man all night.' 
 He then emphatically broke out in the words of Shakspeare : 
 
 'Can'st thou not minister to a mind diseas'd; 
 Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; 
 Raze out the written troubles of the brain; 
 And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 
 Cleanse the stuff' d bosom of that perilous stuff, 
 Which weighs upon the heart ? ' 
 
 To which Dr. Brocklesby readily answered, from the same 
 great poet: 
 
 therein the patient 
 
 Must minister to himself.' 
 
 Johnson expressed himself much satisfied with the appli- 
 cation. 
 
 1 This bold experiment, Sir John Hawkins has related in such a manner 
 as to suggest a charge against Johnson of intentionally hastening his 
 end : a charge so very inconsistent with his character in every respect, 
 that it is injurious even to refute it, as Sir John has thought it neces- 
 sary to do. It is evident, that what Johnson did in hopes of relief, 
 indicated an extraordinary eagerness to retard his dissolution. BOS- 
 WELL.
 
 552 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 On another day after this, when talking on the subject of 
 prayer, Dr. Brocklesby repeated from Juvenal, 
 
 'Orandum est, ut sit metis sana in corpore sano,' 
 
 and so on to the end of the tenth satire; but in running it 
 quickly over, he happened, in the line, 
 
 'Qui spatium vitce extremum inter munera ponat,' 
 
 to pronounce supremum for extremum; at which Johnson's 
 critical ear instantly took offence, and discoursing .vehe- 
 mently on the unmetrical effect of such a lapse, he shewed 
 himself as full as ever of the spirit of the grammarian. 
 
 Having no near relations, it had been for some time John- 
 son's intention to make a liberal provision for his faithful 
 servant, Mr. Francis Barber, whom he looked upon as par- 
 ticularly under his protection, and whom he had all along 
 treated truly as an humble friend. Having asked Dr. 
 Brocklesby what would be a proper annuity to a favourite 
 servant, and being answered that it must depend on the 
 circumstances of the master; and, that in the case of a noble- 
 man, fifty pounds a year was considered as an adequate 
 reward for many years' faithful service; 'Then, (said John- 
 son,) shall I be nobilissimus, for I mean to leave Frank 
 seventy pounds a year, and I desire you to tell him so.' It 
 is strange, however, to think, that Johnson was not free from 
 that general weakness of being averse to execute a will, so 
 that he delayed it from time to time; and had it not been 
 for Sir John Hawkins's repeatedly urging it, I think it is 
 probable that his kind resolution would not have been ful- 
 filled. After making one, which, as Sir John Hawkins in- 
 forms us, extended no further than the promised annuity, 
 Johnson's final disposition of his property was established by 
 a Will and Codicil. 
 
 The consideration of numerous papers of which he was 
 possessed, seems to have struck Johnson's mind, with a sud- 
 den anxiety, and as they were in great confusion, it is much 
 to be lamented that he had not entrusted some faithful and
 
 1784] HIS LAST WORDS WITH BURKE 553 
 
 discreet person with the care and selection of them; instead 
 of which, he in a precipitate manner, burnt large masses of 
 them, with little regard, as I apprehend, to discrimination. 
 Not that I suppose we have thus been deprived of any com- 
 positions which he had ever intended for the publick eye; 
 but, from what escaped the flames, I judge that many curi- 
 ous circumstances relating both to himself and other literary 
 characters have perished. 
 
 Two very valuable articles, I am sure, we have lost, which 
 were two quarto volumes, containing a full, fair, and most 
 particular account of his own life, from his earliest recollec- 
 tion. I owned to him, that having accidentally seen them, 
 I had read a great deal in them; and apologizing for the 
 liberty I had taken, asked him if I could help it. He plac- 
 idly answered, 'Why, Sir, I do not think you could have 
 helped it.' I said that I had, for once in my life, felt half an 
 inclination to commit theft. It had come into my mind to 
 carry off those two volumes, and never see him more. Upon 
 my inquiring how this would have affected him, 'Sir, (said 
 he,) I believe I should have gone mad.' 
 
 During his last illness, Johnson experienced the steady 
 and kind attachment of his numerous friends. Mr. Hoole 
 has drawn up a narrative of what passed in the visits which 
 he paid him during that time, from the 10th of November 
 to the 13th of December, the day of his death, inclusive, and 
 has favoured me with a perusal of it, with permission to 
 make extracts, which I have done. Nobody was more at- 
 tentive to him than Mr. Langton, to whom he tenderly said, 
 Te teneam moriens deficiente manu. And I think it highly to 
 the honour of Mr. Windham, that his important occupations 
 as an active statesman did not prevent him from paying 
 assiduous respect to the dying Sage whom he revered. Mr. 
 Langton informs me, that, 'one day he found Mr. Burke and 
 four or five more friends sitting with Johnson. Mr. Burke 
 said to him, "I am afraid, Sir, such a number of us may be 
 oppressive to you." "No, Sir, (said Johnson,) it is not so; 
 and I must be in a wretched state, indeed, when your com- 
 pany would. not be a delight to me." Mr. Burke, in a trem- 
 ulous voice, expressive of being very tenderly affected, re-
 
 554 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [i?84 
 
 plied, "My dear Sir, you have always been too good to me." 
 Immediately afterwards he went away. This was the last 
 circumstance in the acquaintance of these two eminent men.' 
 
 The following particulars of his conversation within a few 
 days of his death, I give on the authority of Mr. John 
 Nichols: 
 
 'He said, that the Parliamentary Debates were the only 
 part of his writings which then gave him any compunction: 
 but that at the time he wrote them, he had no conception 
 he was imposing upon the world, though they were frequently 
 written from very slender materials, and often from none at 
 all, the mere coinage of his own imagination. He never 
 wrote any part of his works with equal velocity. Three 
 columns of the Magazine, in an hour, was no uncommon 
 effort, which was faster than most persons could have tran- 
 scribed that quantity. 
 
 'Of his friend Cave, he always spoke with great affection. 
 "Yet (said he,) Cave, (who never looked out of his window, 
 but with a view to the Gentleman's Magazine,) was a penuri- 
 ous pay-master; he would contract for lines by the hundred, 
 and expect the long hundred; but he was a good man, and 
 always delighted to have his friends at his table." 
 
 'He said at another time, three or four days only before 
 his death, speaking of the little fear he had of undergoing 
 a chirurgical operation, "I would give one of these legs for 
 a year more of life, I mean of comfortable life, not such as 
 that which I now suffer;" and lamented much his inability 
 to read during his hours of restlessness; "I used formerly, 
 (he added,) when sleepless in bed, to read like a Turk." 
 
 'Whilst confined by his last illness, it was his regular prac- 
 tice to have the church-service read to him, by some atten- 
 tive and friendly Divine. The Rev. Mr. Hoole performed 
 this kind office in my presence for the last time, when, by 
 his own desire, no more than the Litany was read; in which 
 his responses were in the deep and sonorous voice which Mr. 
 Boswell has occasionally noticed, and with the most pro- 
 found devotion that can be imagined. His hearing not 
 being quite perfect, he more than once interrupted Mr.
 
 1784] HIS FORTITUDE 555 
 
 Hoole, with "Louder, my dear Sir, louder, I entreat you, or 
 you pray in vain!" and, when the service was ended, he, 
 with great earnestness, turned round to an excellent lady 
 who was present, saying, " I thank you, Madam, very heartily, 
 for your kindness in joining me in this solemn exercise* 
 Live well, I conjure you; and you will not feel the compunc- 
 tion at the last, which I now feel." So truly humble were 
 the thoughts which this great and good man entertained of 
 his own approaches to religious perfection.' 
 
 Amidst the melancholy clouds which hung over the dying 
 Johnson, his characteristical manner shewed itself on different 
 occasions. 
 
 When Dr. Warren, in the usual style, hoped that he was 
 better; his answer was, 'No, Sir; you cannot conceive with 
 what acceleration I advance towards death.' 
 
 A man whom he had never seen before was employed one 
 night to sit up with him. Being asked next morning how he 
 liked his attendant, his answer was, 'Not at all, Sir: the 
 fellow's an ideot; he is as aukward as a turn-spit when first 
 put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse.' 
 
 Mr. Windham having placed a pillow conveniently to 
 support him, he thanked him for his kindness, and said, 
 'That will do, all that a pillow can do.' 
 
 He requested three things of Sir Joshua Reynolds: To 
 forgive him thirty pounds which he had borrowed of him; 
 to read the Bible; and never to use his pencil on a Sunday. 
 Sir Joshua readily acquiesced. 
 
 Johnson, with that native fortitude, which, amidst all his 
 bodily distress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, 
 asked Dr. Brocklesby, as a man in whom he had confidence, 
 to tell him plainly whether he could recover. 'Give me 
 (said he,) a direct answer.' The Doctor having first asked 
 him if he could bear the whole truth, which way soever it 
 might lead, and being answered that he could, declared that, 
 in his opinion, he could not recover without a miracle. 
 'Then, (said Johnson,) I will take no more physick, not even 
 my opiates ; for I have prayed that I may render up my soul 
 to GOD unclouded.' In this resolution he persevered, and, 
 at the same time, used only the weakest kinds of sustenance.
 
 556 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON {1784 
 
 Being pressed by Mr. Windham to take somewhat more 
 generous nourishment, lest too low a diet should have the 
 very effect which he dreaded, by debilitating his mind, he 
 said, 'I will take any thing but inebriating sustenance.' 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Strahan, who was the son of his friend, 
 and had been always one of his great favourites, had, during 
 his last illness, the satisfaction of contributing to soothe and 
 comfort him. That gentleman's house, at Islington, of 
 which he is Vicar, afforded Johnson, occasionally and easily, 
 an agreeable change of place and fresh air; and he attended 
 also upon him in town in the discharge of the sacred offices 
 of his profession. 
 
 Mr. Strahan has given me the agreeable assurance, that, 
 after being in much agitation, Johnson became quite com- 
 posed, and continued so till his death. 
 
 Dr. Brocklesby, who will not be suspected of fanaticism, 
 obliged me with the following account: 
 
 'For some time before his death, all his fears were calmed 
 and absorbed by the prevalence of his faith, and his trust in 
 the merits and propitiation of JESUS CHRIST.' 
 
 Johnson having thus in his mind the true Christian 
 scheme, at once rational and consolatory, uniting justice and 
 mercy in the DIVINITY, with the improvement of human 
 nature, previous to his receiving the Holy Sacrament in his 
 apartment, composed and fervently uttered this prayer: 
 
 'Almighty and most merciful Father, I am now as to 
 human eyes, it seems, about to commemorate, for the last 
 time, the death of thy Son JESUS CHRIST, our Saviour and 
 Redeemer. Grant, LORD, that my whole hope and con- 
 fidence may be in his merits, and thy mercy; enforce and 
 accept my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration 
 available to the confirmation of my faith, the establishment 
 of my hope, and the enlargement of my charity; and make 
 the death of thy Son JESUS CHRIST effectual to my redemp- 
 tion. Have mercy upon me, and pardon the multitude of 
 my offences. Bless my friends; have mercy upon all men. 
 Support me, by thy Holy Spirit, in the days of weakness, and 
 at the hour of death; and receive me, at my death, to ever- 
 lasting happiness, for the sake of JESUS CHRIST. Amen.'
 
 1784] HIS LAST MOMENTS 557 
 
 Having, as has been already mentioned, made his will on 
 the 8th and 9th of December, and settled all his worldly 
 affairs, he languished till Monday, the 13th of that month, 
 when he expired, about seven o'clock in the evening, with so 
 little apparent pain that his attendants hardly perceived 
 when his dissolution took place. 
 
 Of his last moments, my brother, Thomas David, has fur- 
 nished me with the following particulars: 
 
 'The Doctor, from the time that he was certain his death 
 was near, appeared to be perfectly resigned, was seldom or 
 never fretful or out of temper, and often said to his faithful 
 servant, who gave me this account, "Attend, Francis, to the 
 salvation of your soul, which is the object of greatest impor- 
 tance:" he also explained to him passages in the Scripture, 
 and seemed to have pleasure in talking upon religious sub- 
 jects. 
 
 'On Monday, the 13th of December, the day on which he 
 died, a Miss Morris, daughter to a particular friend of his, 
 called, and said to Francis, that she begged to be permitted 
 to see the Doctor, that she might earnestly request him to 
 give her his blessing. Francis went into his room, followed 
 by the young lady, and delivered the message. The Doctor 
 turned himself in the bed, and said, "GoD bless you, my 
 dear!" These were the last words he spoke. His difficulty 
 of breathing increased till about seven o'clock in the evening, 
 when Mr. Barber and Mrs. Desmoulins, who were sitting in 
 the room, observing that the noise he made in breathing had 
 ceased, went to the bed, and found he was dead.' 
 
 About two days after his death, the following very agree- 
 able account was communicated to Mr. Malone, in a letter by 
 the Honourable John Byng, to whom I am much obliged for 
 granting me permission to introduce it in my work. 
 
 ' DEAR SIR, Since I saw you, I have had a long conversa- 
 tion with Cawston, who sat up with Dr. Johnson, from nine 
 o'clock, on Sunday evening, till ten o'clock, on Monday 
 morning. And, from what I can gather from him, it should 
 seem, that Dr. Johnson was perfectly composed, steady in 
 hope, and resigned to death. At the interval of each hour,
 
 558 LIFE OF DR. JOHNSON [1784 
 
 they assisted him to sit up in his bed, and move his legs, 
 which were in much pain; when he regularly addressed him- 
 self to fervent prayer; and though, sometimes, his voice 
 failed him, his senses never did, during that time. The only 
 sustenance he received, was cyder and water. He said his 
 mind was prepared, and the time to his dissolution seemed 
 long. At six in the morning, he inquired the hour, and, on 
 being informed, said that all went on regularly, and he felt 
 he had but a few hours to live. 
 
 'At ten o'clock in the morning, he parted from Cawston, 
 saying, "You should not detain Mr. Windham's servant: 
 I thank you; bear my remembrance to your master." Caw- 
 ston says, that no man could appear more collected, more 
 devout, or less terrified at the thoughts of the approaching 
 minute. 
 
 'This account, which is so much more agreeable than, and 
 somewhat different from, yours, has given us the satisfac- 
 tion of thinking that that great man died as he lived, full of 
 resignation, strengthened in faith, and joyful in hope.' 
 
 A few days before his death, he had asked Sir John Haw- 
 kins, as one of his executors, where he should be buried; 
 and on being answered, 'Doubtless, in Westminster-Abbey,' 
 seemed to feel a satisfaction, very natural to a Poet; and 
 indeed in my opinion very natural to every man of any 
 imagination, who has no famity sepulchre in which he can 
 be .laid with his fathers. Accordingly, upon Monday, De- 
 cember 20, his remains were deposited in that noble and 
 renowned edifice; and over his grave was placed a large 
 blue flag-stone, with this inscription: 
 
 'SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. 
 
 Obiit xin die Decembris, 
 
 Anno Domini 
 
 M.DCC.LXXXIV. 
 
 sues LXXV.' 
 
 His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his 
 friends, particularly such of the members of the LITERARY
 
 1784] HIS FUNERAL 559 
 
 CLUB as were then in town; and was also honoured with the 
 presence of several of the Reverend Chapter of Westminster. 
 Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Windham, Mr. Langton, 
 Sir Charles Bunbury, and Mr. Colman, bore his pall. His 
 school-fellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of 
 reading the burial service. 
 
 I trust, I shall not be accused of affectation, when I de- 
 clare, that I find myself unable to express all that I felt 
 upon the loss of such a 'Guide, Philosopher, and Friend.' 
 I shall, therefore, not say one word of my own, but adopt 
 those of an eminent friend, which he uttered with an abrupt 
 felicity, superior to all studied compositions: 'He has made 
 a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up, but which noth- 
 ing has a tendency to fill up. Johnson is dead. Let us go 
 to the next best: there is nobody; no man can be said to 
 put you in mind of Johnson.'
 
 INDEX 
 
 Abel Drugger, 298. 
 
 Abercrombie, James, 198. 
 
 Aberdeen, 184, 362. 
 
 Abington, Mrs., the actress, 
 235-6, 239, 246. 
 
 Acting, 343, 344. 
 
 Action in speaking, 199, 200. 
 
 Adam, Robert, 335. 
 
 Adam, the brothers, architects, 
 237. 
 
 Adamites, 220. 
 
 Adams, Rev. William, D.D. 
 (Master of Pembroke College), 
 12, 17, 32, 41, 44, 65, 66, 132, 
 268, 269, 519-26, 547. 
 
 Addison, Joseph, 110, 222, 333, 
 407, 444. 
 
 Adelphi, 458, 460. 
 
 Adey, Miss, 5, 280. 
 
 Admiration, 251. 
 
 Adventurer, Hawkesworth's, 51. 
 
 Affectation, 129, 447, 548. 
 
 Affection, 493. 
 
 Akenside, Mark, 187. 
 
 Aleppo, 443. 
 
 Allen, Edmund, the printer, 129, 
 245, 328, 330, 373, 456-7, 500, 
 548. 
 
 Althorp, Lord (second earl Spen- 
 cer), 434. 
 
 America and Americans, 233, 353, 
 354, 380, 392, 452, 495, 518. 
 
 Ancestry, 185, 225. 
 
 Anne, Queen, 7. 
 
 Apostolical Ordination, 174. 
 
 Apparitions. See Spirits. 
 
 Arbuthnot, Dr. John, 110. 
 
 Argyle, Archibald, third Duke of, 
 42, 313. 
 
 Ashbourne, Johnson and Boswell 
 visit it, 284-6, 326-55; men- 
 tioned, 542. 
 
 Astley, the equestrian, 431. 
 
 Aston, Miss (Mrs.), 280, 282. 
 
 Aston, 'Molly', 280. 
 
 'Athol porridge', 450. 
 
 Auchinleck, 125, 341. 
 
 Auchinleck, Lord, 318, 474. 
 
 Authors, attacks on, 240, 417, 468. 
 Avarice, 311. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, 50, 186, 350, 514. 
 
 Ballads, 200. 
 
 Balloon, account of a, 543, 545, 
 
 Banks, Sir Joseph, 132, 559. 
 
 Barber, Francis, Johnson's negro 
 servant, 52-4, 56, 84-5, 138, 
 156, 184, 250, 256, 355, 415, 
 518, 552, 557. 
 
 Baretti, Joseph, 154, 171, 198, 
 258-9, 271, 288, 336, 416. 
 
 Barnard, Rev. Dr., dean of Derry, 
 afterwards Bishop of Killaloe, 
 232, 317, 459, 465. 
 
 Barretier, Philip, Life by John- 
 son, 35. 
 
 Barrington, Hon. Daines, 292, 
 507. 
 
 Barry, James, 499, 507. 
 
 Bartolozzi, Francis, 324. 
 
 Bath, 302-3. 
 
 Bathurst, Dr., 43, 52. 
 
 Bathurst, Lord Chancellor, 329. 
 
 Baxter, Rev. Richard, 220, 485. 
 
 Bayle, his Dictionary, 110. 
 
 Beattie, Dr. James, 182-3, 46O. 
 534, 535; his Hermit, 486. 
 
 Beauclerk Hon. Topham, 59-31, 
 209, 260, 412, 438, 445, 450; 
 death, 434 ; dinners and suppers 
 at his house, 212, 237, 423-5; 
 Johnson's affection for him. 
 439, 460, 483; Johnson's alter- 
 cations with, 375-6, 421-2. 
 
 Beauclerk, Lady Diana, wife of 
 Topham Beauclerk, 214, 239. 
 
 Beauty, of women, 470. 
 
 Bedlam, Johnson visits it, 255. 
 
 Bellamy, Mrs., the actress, 79. 
 
 Bentley, Dr., 16, 442, 443, 496. 
 
 Berkeley, Bishop, 130. 
 
 Betty Broom, 506. 
 
 Bickerstaff, Isaac, 165-6. 
 
 Burning, Lord, 194, 402. 
 
 Biography, 1-3, 110, 149, 187, 
 270, 312, 333, 547. 
 
 561
 
 562 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Biography, 1-3, 110, 149, 187, 
 270, 312. 333, 547. 
 
 Birmingham, 4, 21; Johnson 
 visits it, 274, 472, 647. 
 
 Bishops, 512. 
 
 Blackstone, Sir William, 18. 421. 
 
 Blair, Rev. Dr. Hugh, 96. 
 
 Blaney, Mrs. Elizabeth, 545. 
 
 Blank verse. 111. 
 
 Blenheim Park, Johnson visits it, 
 271. 
 
 Blue-stocking Clubs, 462. 
 
 Boccage, Mme. du, 259. 
 
 Boileau, 30. 
 
 Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, first 
 Viscount, 408, 410; Johnson's 
 criticisms on, 67, 80. 
 
 Bolingbroke, Lady, 397. 
 
 Bon-mots, 397. 
 
 Books, abundance of modern, 403 ; 
 death, leaving one's books at, 
 391; getting boys to have en- 
 tertainment from them, 422; 
 knowledge of the world through 
 books, 27; looking over their 
 backs in a library, 253 ; not read 
 willingly. 497 ; seldom read when 
 given a way, 209; variety of them 
 to be kept about a man, 349. 
 
 Booksellers, 75, 245. 322, 468. 
 
 Boscawen, Hon. Mrs., 402, 458. 
 
 Boscovich, Pere, 179, 261 
 
 Bosville, Mrs., 188. 
 
 Boswell, Sir Alexander, Baronet, 
 Boswell's eldest son, 318. 
 
 Boswell, Dr., 115, 289. 
 
 Boswell, James. Chief Events and 
 Works : 1760, first visit to 
 London, 91-2; 1762, second 
 visit to London, 92; gets to 
 know Johnson, 94; visits Lon- 
 don, 138-43; visits London and 
 Oxford, 152-5; Account of Cor- 
 sica, 140; 1769, visits London, 
 151, 320; first visit to Streat- 
 ham, 159-76; attends the 
 Stratford Jubilee, 162; 1772, 
 visits London, 184-97; 1773, 
 visits London, 199-226; elected 
 a member of the Literary Club, 
 214; tour to the Hebrides, 226; 
 1775, visits London, 232-57; 
 visits Wilton and Mamhead in 
 Devonshire, 255; visits Lon- 
 don, 263-6, 287-315; becomes 
 
 Paoli's constant guest in Lon- 
 don, 298; visits Oxford, Bir- 
 mingham, Lichfleld, and Ash- 
 bourne with Johnson, 266-87; 
 visits Bath, 302-4; introduces 
 Wilkes to Johnson, 307 ; meets 
 Johnson at Ashbourne, 326-55; 
 1778, visits London, 355-^413; 
 attacked violently by Johnson, 
 406; 1779, visits London (in 
 the spring), 416-26; visits 
 London (hi the autumn), 427- 
 32; 1781, visits London, 447- 
 66; visits Southill with John- 
 son, 466-70; 1782, death of his 
 father, 474; 1783, visits Lon- 
 don, 476-500; visits London, 
 511-39; visits Oxford with 
 Johnson, 517-26; Journal of a 
 Tour to the Hebrides, 257, 333, 
 348, 494. 
 His letters to Johnson, 155, 229, 
 
 322, 425, 548. 
 
 Johnson's letters to Boswell, 155, 
 182. 198, 226, 257-8, 321-2, 
 326, 415, 425, 447, 540. 
 
 Boswell, Mrs. (the author's wife), 
 257, 318, 322, 325. 415, 474, 
 500, 548. 
 
 Boswell, Veronica (Boswell's eld- 
 est daughter), 318. 416. 
 
 Bouffiers, Comtesse de, 177, 260. 
 
 Brandy, the drink for heroes, 419, 
 451. 
 
 Brighthelmstone (Brighton), 159, 
 475. 
 
 Bristol, Boswell and Johnson's 
 visit. 303. 
 
 Brocklesby, Dr., 481, 503. 507, 
 536, 538, 542, 551, 552, 555, 
 556. 
 
 Brown, Launcelot (Capability), 
 271, 428. 
 
 Brown, Tom, author of a spelling- 
 book, 8. 
 
 Browne, Sir Thomas, 50. 
 
 Brutes, their future life, 153. 
 
 Budgell. Eustace, 209. 
 
 Bulkeley, Mrs., 203. 
 
 Bull-dog, Dr. Taylor's, 347. 
 
 Bunbury, Sir Charles, 132, 234, 
 559. 
 
 Bunyan, John, 214. 
 
 Burke, Edmund, 131, 214, 222, 
 315, 370, 390, 396, 445, 449, 450.
 
 INDEX 
 
 563 
 
 494, 553, 559; Letter on the 
 Affairs of America, 345 ; his bon- 
 mots, 397 ; his universal knowl- 
 edge, 318, 442, 444, 478, 513; 
 his appreciation and criticisms 
 of Johnson, 528; Johnson's 
 opinions of him, 181, 193,271, 
 418, 444, 453. 
 
 Burke, Richard, junior (Edmund 
 Burke's son), 132, 497, 545. 
 
 Burnet, Gilbert, Bishop of Salis- 
 bury, 349. 
 
 Burney, Dr. Charles, 71, 77, 80, 
 97, 261, 458, 471, 504, 548; his 
 anecdotes of Johnson, 261-3, 
 471. 
 
 Burney, Dr. Charles (jun.), 549. 
 
 Burney, Frances (Mme. D'Ar- 
 blay), 499, 513. 
 
 Burney, Mrs., 492. 
 
 Burton, Robert, 179, 268. 
 
 Bute, third Earl of, 88, 89, 314, 
 427, 466, 469. 
 
 Butler, Samuel, Hudibras, 300. 
 
 Butter, Dr., 286, 333, 337, 464, 
 551. 
 
 Cadell, Thomas, 323. 
 
 Cambridge. 146. 
 
 Cambridge, R. O., 251, 253, 364. 
 
 Camden, Lord, 390. 
 
 Campbell, Dr. John, 233, 263, 363. 
 
 Campbell, Dr. Thomas, 241-3, 
 246. 
 
 Campbell, Mungo, 347. 
 
 Cant, clearing the mind of, 498. 
 
 Cards, 294, 418. 
 
 Careless, Mrs. Johnson's first 
 love, 275-6. 
 
 Carmichael, Miss, 356, 415. 
 
 Carte, Thomas, History of Eng- 
 land, 245. 
 
 Carter, Miss Elizabeth, (Mrs.), 
 339, 458. 
 
 Catherine II, 514. 
 
 Cave, Edward, 28-9, 56, 191, 554. 
 
 Chambers, Catherine, 150. 
 
 Chambers, Sir Robert, 151, 224-5. 
 
 Chamier, Andrew, 131, 365. 
 
 Charlemont, first Earl of, 121, 
 212, 412, 450. 
 
 Charles I, 478. 
 
 Charles II, 59, 117, 149, 243. 
 
 Charles XII, of Sweden, 371. 
 
 Charlotte, Queen, 211. 
 
 Chastity, 154. 
 
 Chatham, William Pitt, Earl of, 
 31, 197. 
 
 Chatsworth, Boswell visits it, 355; 
 Johnson visits it, 542-5. 
 
 Chatterton, Thomas, 303. 
 
 Chesterfield, fourth Earl of, 200, 
 328, 423, 535; Plan of the 
 Dictionary, addressed to, 41, 62; 
 seeks to flatter Johnson, 62-3; 
 Johnson's severe reply, 634; 
 470; Letters, 304; Miscellane- 
 ous Works, 411. 
 
 Chichester, 476. 
 
 Children, 297; method of rearing 
 them, 173; prematurely wise, 
 262. 
 
 China, wall of, 372-3. 
 
 Cholmondeley, Mrs., 179, 367, 394. 
 
 Christianity, dictates of, 379; 
 differences chiefly in forms; 
 102, 184, 347; evidences for it, 
 102, 121, 139, 142, 347; immor- 
 tality its great doctrine, 347. 
 
 Church of England, 126, 243. 
 
 Churchill, Charles, 103, 107. 
 
 Cibber, Colley, 100, 150, 169, 235, 
 242, 343, 505. 
 
 Cibber, Theophilus, edits the 
 Lives of the Poets, 42. 
 
 Cibber, Mrs. (wife of Theophi- 
 lus), 45, 169. 
 
 Claret, for boys, 419, 451. 
 
 Clarke, Rev. Dr. Samuel, 16, 442. 
 
 Clergy, the, 386, 450. 
 
 Clive, Lord, 404, 428. 
 
 Clive, Mrs., the actress, 437, 505. 
 
 Cobb, Mrs., 280. v 
 
 Cobham, Lord 410. 
 
 Cock-Lane Ghost, 103, 372, 
 
 Coke, Lord, 186. 
 
 Collins, William, 70. 
 
 Colman, George, the elder, 132,. 
 234, 395, 439, 441, 559. 
 
 Colson, Rev. J., 25. 
 
 Comedy, distinguished from farce,. 
 170; its great end, 211. 
 
 Commerce, 202, 249. 
 
 Community of goods, 219. 
 
 Composition, fine passages to be 
 struck out, 213; man writing 
 from his own mind, 245. 
 
 Comus, Johnson's Prologue to, 
 51. 
 
 Condescension, 436.
 
 564 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Confession, 175. 
 
 Cbngreve, Rev. Charles, 275, 285. 
 
 Congreve, William, 166, 207, 346. 
 
 Conjugal infidelity, 154, 295. 
 
 Conscience, 496. 
 
 Conversation, 209, 250-1, 269, 
 271, 305, 363, 388, 423, 465, 
 477, 482, 486, 488, 496. 
 
 Convocation, 126. 
 
 Cook, Captain, 524. 
 
 Cookery, 377. 
 
 Cooper, John Gilbert, 180, 436. 
 
 Copyright, 415. 
 
 Corsica, 140, 151, 155, 159. 
 
 Cotterells, the Miss, 57, 87. 
 
 Country gentlemen, 341, 476-7. 
 
 Country life, 365, 412, 498, 539. 
 
 Courage, 164, 242, 372, 379, 522. 
 
 Court mourning, 531. 
 
 Courtenay, John, 132, 390, 527. 
 
 Cowley, Abraham, 446. 
 
 Crabbe, Rev. George, 481. 
 
 Craven, Lady, 293. 
 
 Critical Review, 149. 
 
 Crown, the, 189, 498. 
 
 Cruikshank, the surgeon, 504, 551. 
 
 Cumberland, Richard, 446, 549. 
 
 Gumming, Tom, the Quaker, 495. 
 
 Curiosity, 489. 
 
 Dalrymple, Sir John, 213. 
 
 Dancing, 451. 
 
 Dante, 214. 
 
 Dartineuf, Charles, 270. 
 
 Davies, Mrs., 133, 502. 
 
 Davies, Thomas, 93-6, 109, 133. 
 
 158. 170, 198, 227, 231, 257. 
 
 -323, 356, 438, 502; dinners at 
 
 this house, 242. 300. 
 Dead, prayers for the, 53, 55. 
 Death, reflections on, 169, 175, 
 
 332, 334. 
 Debates of Parliament, 29, 389, 
 
 527, 554. 
 
 Dedications, 41, 62, 138. 
 Dempster, George, 114-6, 197, 
 
 383, 518. 
 
 Derby. 23, 336, 337. 
 Derbyshire, 285. 542. 
 Derrick, Samuel, 121, 488. 
 Desmoulins, Mrs., 53, 356, 382, 
 
 392, 415, 416, 456, 479-80, 557. 
 Devonshire, fifth Duke and Duch- 
 ess of, 469, 542. 545. 
 Dick. Sir Alexander, 320, 490. 
 
 Dictionary, Johnson's, 40-3, 62-7, 
 72-4, 198, 408, 429, 436. 
 
 Duly, Charles, 534. 
 
 Dilly, Messrs, Edward and 
 Charles, booksellers, 217, 241, 
 307-15, 377-80. 413. 460-2, 
 515. 
 
 Dilly Squire, 466-70. 
 
 Dodd, Rev. Dr. William, 328-32, 
 338, 492. 
 
 Dodsley, Robert, 40-1, 45, 65, 70, 
 270, 299, 429, 442. 
 
 Dogs, 170. 
 
 Douglas, Rev. Dr. John, Bishop 
 of Salisbury, 30, 103, 112, 132, 
 158. 
 
 Dreams, 52. 
 
 Dress, 46, 286, 483. 
 
 Drunkenness, 340. 
 
 Drury Lane Theatre, 40, 44, 51, 
 437. 
 
 Dryden, John, 122, 133, 215, 236, 
 312, 410. 
 
 Duelling, 191, 494. 
 
 Dunning, John, first Lord Ash- 
 burton, 131, 186, 361. 
 
 Dyer, John, The Fleece, 273. 
 
 East Indies, 292, 294, 427. 
 
 Edial, 23. 
 
 Edinburgh, 110, 126. 
 
 Education, 8, 120, 262. 
 
 Edwards, Oliver, 384-8, 455. 
 
 Eglintoune, Alexander, tenth Earl 
 of, 158, 347, 393. 
 
 Elibank, Patrick, fifth Lord, 295, 
 305, 466. 
 
 Eliot, Edward, first Lord Eliot, 
 305. 450, 532. 
 
 Ellis, 'Jack,' a scrivener, 293. 
 
 Elphinston. James, 48-9, 207. 368. 
 
 Emigration, 359. 
 
 Emmet, Mrs., the actress, 279. 
 
 Erskine, Hon. Thomas, after- 
 wards Lord Erskine, 190. 
 
 Essex Head Club, 507, 543. 
 
 Eternal punishment, 522-3. 
 
 Eugenia, 215. 
 
 Excise, defined, 73. 408. 
 
 Faith, merit in, 382. 
 Fame, 250. 370. 
 Families, 185, 281. 
 Fergusson, Sir Adam, 188-9.
 
 INDEX 
 
 565 
 
 Fiddlers, and Fiddling, 195, 207, 
 
 362. 
 
 Fielding. Henry, 152, 190, 302. 
 Fine clothes, 160, 165, 286, 483. 
 Fitzherbert, William, 204, 311, 
 
 445. 
 
 Flattery, 211. 
 Flint, Bet, 461. 
 Floyd, Thomas, 122. 
 Foote, Samuel, 85, 170-1, 201, 
 
 231, 260, 265, 310, 371, 482, 
 
 513, 525. 
 
 Foppery never cured, 180. 
 Forbes, Sir William, of Pitsligo, 
 
 301, 316-18. 
 Ford, Rev. Cornelius (Johnson's 
 
 cousin), 11, 410. 
 Fornication, 122, 291. 
 Forwardness, 270. 
 Fox, Charles James, 365, 370, 
 
 372, 478. 
 France, 28, 179, 258, 383, 411, 
 
 441, 479. 
 Frederick the Great, 114, 117, 
 
 404. 
 
 Free Will, 164. 
 Friends, in a future state, 391, 
 
 515. 
 
 Friendship, 74, 306, 379, 423, 516. 
 Future state, 187, 332. 
 
 Gaming, 190, 294. 
 
 Garagantua, 3667. 
 
 Garden, a walled, 491. 
 
 Gardiner, Mrs., 293, 506. 
 
 Garrick, David, 20, 24, 28, 35, 38- 
 40, 44, 51, 61, 132, 165, 263, 
 367-9, 380, 390, 423, 436, 443, 
 458-60, 499; Johnson's criti- 
 cisms and appreciations of, 95, 
 98, 163, 168-9, 196, 207-8, 212, 
 237, 278-9, 298, 304, 310-12, 
 344, 370-1, 423-4, 438, 505. 
 
 Garrick, Mrs., 458-60, 513. 
 
 Garrick, Peter, 28, 277, 280. 
 
 Gastrell, Mrs., 282. 
 
 Gay. John, 254, 396, 457. 
 
 Gentility, 164, 242, 305, 445. 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine, 28-9. 
 
 George I, 243. 
 
 George II, 34, 243, 462. 
 
 George III, 88, 145-50, 376. 
 
 Ghosts, arguments for and against 
 their existence, 103, 187, 191, 
 358, 381, 410, 426, 452. 
 
 Giant's Causeway, 430. 
 
 Gibbon, Edward, 246, 254, 305, 
 372, 449. 
 
 Gibbons. Rev. Dr., 469, 515. 
 
 Gluttony, 127. 
 
 Goldsmith, Oliver, 104-7, 109, 
 142-3, 150, 165, 172, 191-4, 
 197, 199, 201, 209-14, 249-50, 
 299, 339, 364-5, 390, 439-40, 
 443, 445, 465, 491, 484, 512; 
 his death, 338; Johnson's epi- 
 taphs on, 228, 315-18; Ani- 
 mated Nature, 193, 213, 290, 
 336; Deserted Village, 212; 
 Good-natured Man, 151-2, 395; 
 History of Rome, 213; Life of 
 Parnell, 187: She Stoops to Con- 
 quer, 198, 202, 203, 205-6, 211, 
 395, 531; The Traveller, 106, 
 138, 212, 365, 370, 396; The 
 Vicar of Wakefield, 106, 396, 
 417. 
 
 Good-breeding, 164. 
 
 Good Friday, 248, 392, 418, 455, 
 490. 
 
 Good-humor, 252, 404. 
 
 Gothic buildings, 69. 
 
 Government, forms of, 189. 
 
 Gower, first Earl of, 73. 
 
 Graham, Marquis of (third Duke 
 of Montrose), 420, 463. 
 
 Grainger, Dr. James, 273. 
 
 Gray, Thomas, 101, 187, 238, 300, 
 380, 440. 
 
 Greek, 122, 443, 549. 
 
 Greeks, 189. 
 
 Green, Richard, of Lichfleld, 279, 
 550. 
 
 Greenwich, 122-4. 
 
 Gresham College, 290. 
 
 Grief. 50, 283. 297, 326. 
 
 Gwynn, John, the architect, 
 266-7. 
 
 Hailes, Lord (Sir David Dal- 
 
 rymple), 333, 349. 
 Hale, Sir Matthew, 185. 
 Hanover, House of, 112, 477. 
 Happiness, 114, 116, 139, 188, 287, 
 
 304, 352, 363. 
 Harleian Library and Catalogue, 
 
 36. 
 
 Harrington. Countess of, 328. 
 Harris, James (Hermes Harris), 
 
 206, 253, 367-9.
 
 INDEX 
 
 Hawkesworth, Dr. John, 43, 51. 
 
 Hawkins, Sir John, 55, 81, 272 n., 
 507, 539, 547, 551 n., 552, 558. 
 
 Heath, Dr., 449. 
 
 Heberden, Dr., 501, 551. 
 
 Hebrides and the Highlands, 7, 
 183, 364; tour, 120, 210, 226-7, 
 489; account of the tour, 231-2. 
 
 Hector, Edmund, 7, 9, 21, 274-6, 
 473, 510, 547. 
 
 Hell, its pavement of good inten- 
 tions, 250. 
 
 Helmet, hung out on a tower, as a 
 sign of hospitality, 375. 
 
 Henderson, John, 522. 
 
 Hervey, Hon. Henry, 27, 44. 
 
 Hervey, Hon. Thomas, 144, 242. 
 
 High Life below Stairs, 437. 
 
 Highwaymen, 360. 
 
 Hill, Dr. Sir John, 148, 377 
 
 History, 253. 
 
 Hogarth, William, 34. 
 
 Home, John, 235. 
 
 Homer, 404. 
 
 Hoole, John, 240, 299, 455, 486, 
 506, 516. 
 
 Hope, 86. 
 
 Hospitality, 204, 498. 
 
 House of Commons, 359, 498. 
 
 House of Lords, 194. 
 
 Humanity, its common rights, 
 488, 518. 
 
 Hume, David, 46, 139, 159, 175, 
 346, 488. 
 
 Hunter, Johnson's school-master, 
 8. 
 
 Hypochondria, 349. 
 
 Hypocrisy, 528. 
 
 Iceland, 56, 375. 
 
 Idleness, 112, 439. 
 
 Idler, The. (Johnson's), 81. 
 
 Ignorance, 98. 
 
 Immortality, 250, 347. 
 
 Incivility, 445. 
 
 India, 244, 384. 428. 
 
 Indians, American, 493. 
 
 I ntidHs and infidelity, 164, 431. 
 
 Inquisition, 127. 
 
 Intellectual labor, mankind's aver- 
 sion to it, 98. 
 
 Ireland and the Irish, 215, 222, 
 232, 430. 
 
 Irene, 27-8, 44, 437. 
 
 Islam, 7. 
 
 Italy, Johnson' s projected visits to 
 it. 264, 288, 291, 297, 298, 532, 
 536-42. 
 
 Ivy Lane Club, 43, 507. 
 
 Jackson, Henry, of Lichfleld. 277. 
 
 Jacobitism, Johnson's, 7, 39, 112, 
 204, 220. 
 
 Jamaica, 534. 
 
 James II, 243. 
 
 James (the Pretender), 112. 
 
 James, Dr. Robert, 20, 287, 294. 
 
 Jenyns, Soame, 379. 
 
 Johnny Armstrong, 101. 
 
 Johnson, Elizabeth (Johnson's 
 wife), 22-4, 48, 52-6, 161, 386, 
 433, 542. 
 
 Johnson, Michael (Johnson's fa- 
 ther), 3-5, 12, 13, 19, 545-6, 
 550. 
 
 Johnson, Nathanael (Johnson's 
 younger brother), 4, 550. 
 
 Johnson, Samuel: Chief events of 
 his life. 1709, birth, 3; 1712, 
 'touched' by Queen Anne, 7; 
 1716 (about), enters Lichfleld 
 school, 7; 1725, enters Stour- 
 bridge School, 11; 1726, re- 
 turns home, 11; 1728, enters 
 Pembroke College, 12; trans- 
 lates Pope's Messiah, 13; 1729, 
 returns home, 19; 1731, death 
 of his father, 19; 1732, usher at 
 Market Bosworth, 20; 1733. 
 at Birmingham, 21; 1735. 
 marries Mrs. Porter and opens 
 a school at Edial, 23; 1737, 
 visits London with Garrick, 24; 
 returns to Lichfleld and finishes 
 Irene, 27; removes to London, 
 28; 1738, becomes a writer in 
 the Gentleman's Magazine, 28-9 ; 
 London, 30; 1739,seeks the mas- 
 tership of Appleby School and 
 the degree of Master of Arts, 
 32 ; 1 74O, Lives of Blake, Drake, 
 and Barretier, 35; Debates, 29; 
 Proposals for printing Bibli- 
 otheca Harleiana, 36; Life of 
 Savage, 36; sketching outlines 
 of his Dictionary, 39; 1746, gets 
 to know Levett, 56; 1747, Pro- 
 logue on the opening of Drury 
 Lane Theatre, 40; 1749, Vanity
 
 INDEX 
 
 567 
 
 of Human Wishes, 43; Irene 
 acted, 44.; forms the Ivy Lane 
 Club, 43; 1750, begins The 
 Rambler, 46; death of his wife, 
 52; Miss Williams begins to 
 reside with him, 51; gets to 
 know Reynolds, 57; 1753, be- 
 gins vol. ii. of the Dictionary, 
 61; visits Oxford, 67; Letter 
 to Lord Chesterfield, 63; be- 
 comes an M. A. of Oxford, 71; 
 publishes the Dictionary, 72; 
 Proposals for an edition of 
 Shakespeare, 76; 1758, begins 
 The Idler, 81 ; gets to know Dr. 
 Burney, 80; 1759, death of his 
 mother, 81 ; Rasselas, 81 ; visits 
 Oxford, 84; 1761, visits Lich- 
 fleld, 87; 1762, pensioned, 88; 
 trip to Devonshire, 90; 1763, 
 gets to know Boswell, 94; trip 
 to Harwich, 126; 1764, visits 
 Langton in Lincolnshire, 130; 
 Literary Club founded, 131; 
 becomes an LL.D. of Dublin, 
 134; suffers from a severe ill- 
 ness, 132; gets to know the 
 Thrales (either this year or hi 
 1764), 134; publishes his Shake- 
 speare, 137; takes a house in 
 Johnson's Court, 138; 1767, 
 interview with the King, 145; 
 1768, Prologue to the Good- 
 Natured Man, 151; 1769, visits 
 Brighton, 159, appears as a 
 witness at Baretti's trial, 171; 
 1771, visits Lichfleld and Ash- 
 bourne, 181; 1773, publishes 
 the fourth edition of the Dic- 
 tionary, 198; tour to Scotland, 
 226; 1775, publishes his Jour- 
 ney to the Western Islands, 231; 
 Taxation no Tyranny, 233; be- 
 comes an LL.D. of Oxford, 240; 
 tour to France, 258; 1776, 
 visits Oxford, Lichfleld and 
 Ashbourne with Boswell, 266; 
 projected tour to Italy aban- 
 doned, 288; visits Bath, 302; 
 first dinner with Wilkes, 306; 
 exerts himself in behalf of Dr. 
 Dodd, 328; meets Boswell at 
 Ashbourne, 326; 1778, visits 
 Warley Camp, 413; 1779, pub- 
 lishes the first four volumes of 
 
 the Lives, 415; 1780, writing 
 the last six volumes of the Lives, 
 432 ; publishes the last six vol- 
 umes of the Lives, 446; second 
 dinner with Wilkes, 460; visits 
 Southill, 466; visits Oxford, 
 Birmingham, Lichfleld, and 
 Ashbourne, 472; 1782, takes 
 leave of Streatham, 475; visits 
 Brighton, 475; 1783, has a 
 stroke of the palsy, 500; visits 
 Rochester, 502; visits Heale, 
 502 ; threatened with a surgical 
 operation, 504; founds the 
 Essex Head Club, 507; at- 
 tacked by spasmodic asthma, 
 507; 1784, visits Oxford with 
 Boswell, 508; projected tour 
 to Italy, 532; visits Lichfleld, 
 Ashbourne, Birmingham, and 
 Oxford, 542-7; death, 557; 
 funeral, 558. 
 
 Johnson's Letters. To Allen, 
 Edmund, 500; Bagshaw, Rev. 
 T., 542; Barber, Francis, 156; 
 Baretti, 87; Boswell, James, 
 (see under Boswell) ; Boswell, 
 Mrs., 318, 325, 474; Brockles- 
 by, Dr., 542-4; Burney, Dr., 
 71, 77, 504, 548; Chesterfield, 
 Earl of, 63; Da vies, Thomas, 
 502; Dodd, Dr., 330, 331; 
 Elphinstone, James, 49 ; Green, 
 the Lichfleld apothecary, 550; 
 Langton, Bennet, 78, 143, 227, 
 257; Langton, Miss Jane, 511; 
 Lawrence, Dr., 433, 473; Mac- 
 pherson, James, 229; Porter, 
 Miss, 490, 508; Reynolds, Sir 
 Joshua, 181, 316, 471, 476, 507> 
 517, 541, 544-5; Simpson, 
 Joseph, 83; Taylor, Dr., 54; 
 510; Thrale, Mrs., 501, 504; 
 Thurlow, Lord Chancellor, 541 ; 
 Warton, Rev. Thomas, 70-1; 
 Wesley, John, 426. 
 
 His character, general traits, 
 and mode of living. Abstemi- 
 ous, not temperate, 128, 448; 
 acquisition, powers of, 442; 
 affectation, abhorrence of, 445; 
 almsgiving, 178; amusements, 
 427; anecdotes, love of, 140; 
 arguing, habit of, 172, 294, 402, 
 464, 512; attention to small
 
 568 
 
 INDEX 
 
 things, 487; behavior In com- 
 pany, 305; benevolence, 42- 
 235-6, 356, 387, 414, 487, 530; 
 bigotry, freedom from, 102, 
 184, 347; books, fondness for, 
 253 ; and manner of using them, 
 196, 377; calculation, fondness 
 for, 41, 245, 354; candor, 488, 
 503; character, 331, 402-3, 504, 
 506, 559; charity to the poor, 
 42, 471, 487, 517, 530; chemis- 
 try, fond of, 115, 427, 503; 
 children, love of, 488; church, 
 attendance at, 15, 189, 200, 291, 
 295-6, 384, 391, 428, 473, 490, 
 493; complaints, not given to, 
 249; conversation, 47-8, 172, 
 210, 214, 236, 237, 265, 322-3, 
 331, 369, 394, 405, 444, 460, 
 464-5, 466, 477-8, 484-5, 486, 
 521-2; courage, anecdotes of 
 his, 230; death, dread of, 169, 
 230, 332, 510, 515, 550; dress, 
 45-6, 58, 97, 260, 261, 286, 398, 
 532; eating, habits of, 127-8, 
 310, 387, 448, 534; female 
 charms, sensible to, 22, 314, 
 336, 430, 470, 513, 520; for- 
 eigners, prejudice against, 441; 
 forgiving disposition, 227, 266; 
 fortitude, 504, 523, 555; good- 
 humored, 249, 314, 451; good- 
 natured, 252; hilarity, 17, 225- 
 6, 256; humility, 555; idle- 
 ness, his supposed, 10, 18, 60, 
 112, 125, 126, 132, 182, 227, 
 435 ; insight into character, 293 ; 
 irascibility, 252, 518; kindness 
 to others, 107, 150, 278, 296, 
 414, 488; and to animals, 489; 
 ladies, could be very agreeable 
 to, 449; law, knowledge of, 
 293; liberality, 487; liberty, 
 love of, 5, 110, 156, 189; liter- 
 ature, love and respect for, 12, 
 16, 17; madness, dreaded, 14; 
 melancholy, 4, 14, 319, 409. 
 523; memory, powers of, 5-6, 
 10, 440; metaphysics, fond of, 
 16; moderation in his char- 
 acter, absence of, 448; music, 
 how affected by, 262, 352, 362, 
 443; passion, fits of, 480, 530; 
 peculiarities of conduct and 
 temperament, 22, 33, 133, 237, 
 
 309, 332, 374, 413, 447, 448, 
 463, 532; personal appearance, 
 60, 124, 130, 261, 413, 447, 487; 
 piety, early, habitual, and sys- 
 tematic, 15, 16, 74-5, 130, 182, 
 195, 256, 319-20, 419, 433, 446, 
 472, 495, 511, 515, 554; polite- 
 ness, 20, 71, 147, 256, 403, 405, 
 469 ; disliked extravagant 
 praise, 357, 453; pride, defen- 
 sive, 66; provincial accent, 186, 
 278; puns, aversion to, 528; 
 questioning disliked, 306, 372; 
 reading, amount and rapidity 
 of his, 12, 16, 118, 127, 147, 207, 
 209, 287, 377, 497, 526, 554; 
 residences, 430 n . ; romances, 
 love of, 11; roughness of man- 
 ner, 20, 142, 158-9, 252, 256, 
 406, 516, 521; sight, his, 5-7, 
 374, 526; society, love of mix- 
 ing with, 19, 20, 235, 246, 508; 
 sophistry, love of, 156; speak- 
 ing, impressive mode of, 237, 
 373; spirit, lofty, 546; swear- 
 ing, dislike of, 347; tea, fond- 
 ness for, 108; tenderness of 
 heart, 159, 296, 537; truth- 
 fulness, 216, 264, 357; wine, 
 use of, 265, 301, 363, 387, 399- 
 402, 430, 448; wit, 210; 
 world, knowledge of the, 111, 
 293; young people, love of, 
 118. 
 
 His works. Manner of com- 
 posing his Poetical Works, 27, 
 43, 143; his other Works, 37, 
 47, 81, 82, 302; rapidity of 
 composition, 17, 37, 47, 81, 82, 
 143, 469, 554 ; wrote by fits and 
 starts, 554; never wrote fair 
 copies, 446, 525. 
 
 Style. Formed on writers of 
 the seventeenth century, 50; 
 precision, 487; criticised by 
 himself, 436-7; Imitations of, 
 549-50. 
 
 Johnson, Sarah (Johnson's 
 mother), 3. 7, 81, 550. 
 
 Johnson's Court, 138, 209, 263. 
 
 Johnsoniana, or Bon-Mots of Dr. 
 Johnson, 264, 398. 
 
 Jones, Phil., 269. 
 
 Jorden, Rev. William (Johnson's 
 tutor), 13, 68.
 
 INDEX 
 
 569 
 
 Journal, how it should be kept, 
 113, 202, 481. 
 
 Journal des" Savants, 148. 
 
 Journey to the Western Islands of 
 Scotland, 227-8, 231-2, 234, 
 252-3, 320, 383, 398, 414. 
 
 Judges, 244. 
 
 Junius, authorship of, 418. 
 
 Kames, Lord (Henry Home), 35, 
 155. 
 
 Kemble, John, 504-6. 
 
 Kempis, Thomas a, 515. 
 
 Kindness, duty of cultivating it, 
 343. 
 
 Kings, 109, 117, 147, 189. 
 
 Knitting, 362. 
 
 Knowledge, desire of it innate, 
 122; diffusion of it not a dis- 
 advantage, 403-4. 
 
 Knowles, Mrs., the Quakeress, 
 314, 377-82. 
 
 Langton, Bennet, account of him, 
 58-9; a 'frisk,' 60-1; Johnson 
 visits him at Langton, 130; at 
 Rochester, 442-3, 502; at War- 
 ley Camp, 413; dinners and 
 suppers at his house, 375-6, 
 406-7; his expenditure and 
 foibles criticised, 321, 392, 393; 
 his attention to Johnson in his 
 last illness, 553; present at his 
 funeral, 558; his reminiscences 
 of Johnson, 9, 81, 436-46; men- 
 tioned, 222, 241, 245, 247, 300. 
 
 Langton, Mrs. (Bennet Lang- 
 ton's mother), 79, 130, 436. 
 
 Langton, Miss Jane, Johnson's 
 god-daughter, 511. 
 
 Langton, old Mr. (Bennet Lang- 
 ton's father), 112, 130, 436, 
 
 Language, formed on manners, 
 163-4; origin, 492; scanty and 
 inadequate, 497; speaking ono 
 imperfectly lets a man down, 
 260. 
 
 Latin, essential to a good educa- 
 tion, 122. 
 
 Laughers, time to be spent with 
 them, 484. 
 
 Laughter. 256, 407. 
 
 Law, the study and practice of, 
 525. 
 
 Law, William, 15, 16. 
 
 Lawrence, Dr. Thomas, 79, 294V 
 432, 473, 501. 
 
 Lawyers, 140, 185, 212, 244, 256,, 
 387, 525. 
 
 Learning, 118, 122, 496. 
 
 Lectures, 139, 456. 
 
 Lee, Arthur, 309, 313. 
 
 Leeds, Duke of, 440. 
 
 Levellers, 119. 
 
 Levett, Robert, 56, 58,. 87", TOT, 
 114, 138, 200, 293, 396, 414; 
 his death, 473; Johnson's linos. 
 on him, 477, 512. 
 
 Lewis, F., 51. 
 
 Lexicographer, defined, 74.. 
 
 Libels, 290. 
 
 Liberty, 155-6, 188, 217,. 2I9-ZO, 
 420, 496. 
 
 Lichfleld, 3, 4, 8, 9v 15, 18, 23O,. 
 314; Johnson's visits to, 87, 
 153, 181, 472, 543, 545-6. 
 
 Lies, 115, 205. 
 
 Life, general reflections on, 197, 
 365-6, 523. 
 
 Lincolnshire, 414, 491. 
 
 Lintot the younger, 115. 
 
 Literary Club, list of membersv 
 131-2; Johnson's attendances; 
 at, 144, 222, 234, 358, 439, 454;: 
 his last dinner there, 532;: 
 mentioned, 212, 214, 239, 325,. 
 372, 375, 434, 440, 445, 484,, 
 559. 
 
 Literary fame, 211, 250. 
 
 Literary Journals, 148. 
 
 Literary property, 245, 415, 
 
 Literary reputation, 211. 
 
 Literature, state of, 390, 403-4. 
 
 Lives of the Poets, 323, 327, 408, 
 415-7, 423, 432, 446-8, 461. 
 
 Lines of the Poets, by Theophilus 
 Cibber, 42. 
 
 Lloyd, Mr. and Mrs. Sampson, 274. 
 
 Lobo's Abyssinia, 289. 
 
 Lochlomond, 420, 483. 
 
 Lofft, Capel, 515. 
 
 London, a Poem, 30-1, 44. 
 
 London, its immensity and va- 
 riety, 108, 160, 181, 202, 248,. 
 293, 428; its advantages and 
 superiority over the country,. 
 366; living in, 26, 204, 248, 493;: 
 Boswell's love of, 126, 181, 287,. 
 341, 364; Johnson's love of, 76, 
 160, 178, 287, 341, 544, 546.
 
 570 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Long, Dudley (afterwards North), 
 
 449, 452. 
 Loughborough, Lord (Alexander 
 
 Wedderburne, afterwards Earl 
 
 of Rosslyn). 88-9, 255. 
 Louis XIV, 149, 189. 
 Louis XVI, 258. 
 Love, passion of. 275. 
 Lucan, flrst Earl of, 132, 434, 532. 
 Lucan, Lady, 434, 532. 
 Luton Hoe, 466, 469. 
 Luxury, 188, 202, 357. 
 
 Macaulay, Mrs. Catherine, 119, 
 
 203, 24O, 302, 314, 344. 
 Macbean, Alexander, Johnson's 
 
 amanuensis, 42, 198, 296, 457. 
 Macclesfleld, Countess of, 39. 
 Macpherson, James, 96, 229-31, 
 
 233, 245, 304, 484. 
 Madness, 14, 97, 296. 
 'Mahogany', a drink, 450. 
 Malagrida, 481. 
 
 Mallet, David, 67. 80, 187, 210,496. 
 Malone, Edmond, 51. 471, 532, 
 
 557. 
 
 Man, 378, 448. 
 Mankind, 115, 359. 
 Manley, Mrs., 490. 
 Manners, 412. 
 Mansfield, William Murray, flrst 
 
 Earl of, 186, 194, 197, 234, 329, 
 
 371, 482. 
 Marchmont, Hugh, fourth Earl of, 
 
 407-9, 425. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, 258. 
 Marlborough, John, first Duke of, 
 
 271, 306. 
 Marriage, 161, 177, 275-6, 283. 
 
 287. 
 
 Martyrdom, 218, 440. 
 Marylebone Gardens, 531. 
 Mason, Rev. William, 2, 380, 527. 
 Materialism, 184. 
 Matter, non-existence of, 130. 
 Maxwell, Rev. Dr., Collectanea of 
 
 Johnson, 177-81. 
 Mayo, Rev. Dr.. 217-20. 
 Melancholy, 14, 268, 287, 340-1. 
 Merit, 116-18, 480. 
 Metcalfe, Philip, 471, 475. 
 Methodists, 123, 178-9, 194. 
 Meynell, 'old,' 441. 
 Mickle, William Julius, 193, 299, 
 
 506, 524. 
 
 Middle Class, 259. 
 
 Middlesex election, 430. 
 
 Milton, John, 51, 429, 448, 523. 
 
 532. 
 
 Miracles, 346. 
 Misery, 296, 352, 523. 
 Modern times, better than an- 
 cient, 496. 
 
 Modesty, how far natural, 411. 
 Monboddo, Lord. 160, 203, 339, 
 
 512. 
 Monckton, Hon. Mary (Countess 
 
 of Cork), 463. 
 Money, 188, 248. 341, 343, 371. 
 
 420, 441, 468. 
 Montagu, Mrs., 168. 180, 446, 
 
 449, 513. 
 
 Monthly Review, 149. 
 Moody, the player, 242-3. 
 More, Hannah, 367, 458-9, 462, 
 
 513, 523. 
 
 Morris, Miss, 557. 
 Mounsey, Dr., 157. 
 Mudge, Rev. Zachariah, 90, 459. 
 Murphy, Arthur, 85, 89, 507. 512. 
 Music, 352, 442. 
 
 Necessity, doctrine of, 447. 
 Newgate Gaol, 330. 
 Newspapers, 189, 199, 315. 
 Newton, Sir Isaac. 121, 179, 379. 
 Nichols, John, 464, 507, 530, 554. 
 
 Ode to Mrs. Thrale, a caricature, 
 
 550. 
 Ode to the Warlike Genius of 
 
 Britain, 416. 
 Ofellus, 26. 
 
 Ogilvie, Dr. John, 109-10. 
 Oglethorpe, General, 30, 191-3, 
 
 202, 21O-2. 247, 304-5, 479. 
 Old age, 349, 366, 405. 
 Oliver, Dame, 8. 
 Omai, 289. 
 
 Oratory, 199, 241, 461. 
 Orchards, 491. 
 Osborne, Thomas, 36. 408. 
 Ossian. See Macpherson, James. 
 Ostentation, 127. 
 Otaheite, 217, 524. 
 Oxford, 146, 153, 255, 456; 
 
 Christ Church, 13, 19. 68, 146. 
 
 269; Pembroke College, 12, 67, 
 
 384, 386; Trinity College, 68; 
 
 Johnson, as undergraduate, 12,
 
 INDEX 
 
 571 
 
 13, 15-19, 68 ; presents Works, 
 18; receives M.A., D.C.L., 70, 
 240; visits, 67-70, 84, 151-5, 
 268-71, 472, 517-26, 547. 
 
 Painting, 267, 529. 
 
 Pantheon, 187-8. 
 
 Paoli, General, 159, 163-4, 187, 
 
 195, 204-6, 224, 298, 304, 397, 
 
 425, 460, 534-5. 
 Parliament, 29, 430, 497. 
 Parsimony, 394. 
 Patriotism, 246. 
 Patrons, of authors, 62-6, 480. 
 Pennant, Thomas, 246, 373-5. 
 Pension, denned, 73, 88-90, 112, 
 
 465-6, 528, 532-4, 536-42, 
 
 544-5. 
 Percy, Dr Thomas, 10-11, 17, 32, 
 
 157, 274, 367, 373-5, 394, 459. 
 Peyton, Johnson's amanuensis, 
 
 42, 185. 
 
 Pig, a learned, 546. 
 Piozzi, Mrs. See Thrale, Mrs. 
 Piozzi, Signer, 539 
 Pitt, William. See Chatham, 
 
 Earl of. 
 
 Pity, not natural to man, 115. 
 Plantations (settlements), 141. 
 Players and the art of acting, 38, 
 
 45, 211, 260, 343, 505. 
 Pleasure, 363, 399, 424, 528. 
 Poetry, 200, 247, 299, 334, 367-8. 
 Politics, 255. 
 Pope, Alexander, 13, 30-3, 68, 
 
 138, 165-6, 214, 240, 366-7, 
 
 403, 4O7-9, 438. 
 Port, liquor for men, 419, 451. 
 Porter, Miss Lucy (Johnson's 
 
 step-daughter), 6, 53, 277, 281- 
 
 2, 490, 546, 550. 
 
 Portraits, Johnson's, 94, 181, 483. 
 Poverty, a great evil, 117, 335. 
 Praise, 357, 453. 
 Prayer, 191, 521. 
 Prayers, by Johnson, 47, 61, 132; 
 
 before study, 74, 134, 318-19; 
 
 death of his wife, 52, 53; for 
 
 Catherine Chambers, 150; New 
 
 Year, 61; birthday, 132; Eas- 
 ter, 319; last communion, 556. 
 Presbyterians, 184. 
 Pi-ess, liberty of, 29, 156. 
 Priestley, Dr. Joseph, 503. 
 Printing, 189. 
 
 Prior, Matthew, 163, 349. 
 
 Pritchard, Mrs., the actress, 45, 
 169, 246, 505. 
 
 Prologues at Drury Lane Thea- 
 tre, 40, 51, 443. 
 
 Pronunciation, Irish, Scotch, 
 literary, and provincial, 186. 
 
 Prostitution, severe laws needed, 
 122, 291. 
 
 Psalmanazar, George, 392, 486, 
 512. 
 
 Public amusements, 188. 
 
 Purgatory, 174. 
 
 Quakers, 125, 381, 494. 
 Quality, women of, 412. 
 Quotations, 461. 
 
 Rabelais, 210, 367. 
 
 Rambler, 46-51, 58, 85, 302, 432, 
 437, 455, 525, 531. 
 
 Ramsay, Allan, the elder, 204. 
 
 Ramsay, Allan, the son, por- 
 trait-painter, 402-5, 420, 430. 
 
 Ranelagh, 178, 525. 
 
 Rank, 119. 
 
 Rasselas, 81-2, 466. 
 
 Reading, advice and observa- 
 tions on, 17, 112, 118, 207, 251, 
 302, 349, 422, 442, 524. 
 
 Rebellion of 1745-S, 34, 39, 337. 
 
 Rehearsal, The, 529. 
 
 Religion, remarks on, 171, 381-2, 
 440, 496. 
 
 Reynolds, Miss, 79, 367, 394-5. 
 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 37-8, 57-8, 
 90-1, 149, 165-7, 210-12, 245, 
 300, 317, 370, 383, 390-1, 399- 
 402, 423-5, 434, 445, 449, 458-9, 
 471, 476, 482, 507, 527-8, 529, 
 530, 533, 537-41, 544-5, 555; 
 dinners, 364, 394-7, 405-6, 419, 
 450-1, 535, 538; on Johnson, 
 33, 37, 47, 57, 89, 484; por- 
 traits, 94, 181, 483. 
 
 Rhyme, essential to English 
 poetry, 368. 
 
 Richardson, Samuel, 35, 87, 152, 
 190, 343, 392, 436, 445. 
 
 Ridicule, 418. 
 
 Rising early, 339. 
 
 Robertson, Dr. William, 153, 210, 
 213-4, 402-5. 
 
 Rochester, Wilmot, second Earl 
 of, 349.
 
 572 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Roman Catholicism and Roman 
 Catholics, 127, 173-5, 184, 222, 
 243. 291. 
 
 Romances, 11. 
 
 Rome and the Romans, 187, 
 291-2, 298, 404. 
 
 Round Robin, the, 316-8. 
 
 Rousseau, J. J., 115-7, 140, 201. 
 
 Rudd, Mrs., 315. 
 
 Sacheverell, Rev. Dr. Henry, 5. 
 
 Sagacity, 536. 
 
 Sailors, 84, 266. 
 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, 116, 189, 
 201, 214, 250, 295, 456. 
 
 Saints, invocation of, 174. 
 
 Salamanca, University of, 121. 
 
 Salusbury, Mrs. (Mrs. Thrale's 
 mother), 405. 
 
 Salvation, 522-3. 
 
 Savage, Richard, 36-9, 324, 519. 
 
 Savages, 115, 160, 208, 217, 286, 
 493, 524. 
 
 Schools, discipline in, 193-4, 262, 
 526. 
 
 Scotland and the Scotch, 162, 168, 
 186, 233, 313-14, 322, 362; 
 character of people, 162, 233, 
 237, 424, 432, 439, 460-1, 504; 
 church, 123, 126; education, 
 153, 252-3; Johnson and the 
 Scotch, 41-2, 110, 162, 226-7, 
 231-3, 252-3, 314, 340, 364, 
 410, 424, 432, 439, 460, 478, 
 485; laws and institutions, 286, 
 313-14, 4*0. 
 
 Scott, Dr. (afterwards Sir William 
 Scott, and Lord Stowell), 124, 
 132, 268, 370, 389, 456, 486. 
 
 Scotticisms, 160, 168. 
 
 Scripture phrases, 200. 
 
 Second sight, 184, 234. 
 
 Selden, John, 186. 
 
 Seward, Miss Anna, 377, 546. 
 
 Seward, Rev. Mr., of Lichfleld, 
 280, 283, 331. 
 
 Seward, William, F.R.S., 161, 
 232, 338. 350, 495. 
 
 Sexes, 291, 378. 
 
 Shakespeare, Johnson's edition, 
 76, 137. 
 
 Shakespeare, William, 80, 166-8, 
 370, 441, 443-4; Hamlet, 16, 
 448; Henry VIII, 5O5; Mac- 
 beth, 168, 246, 420, 551; 
 
 Othello, 301; Timon of Athens. 
 
 444. 
 
 Shenstone, William, 18. 
 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 132, 
 
 254, 324. 
 Sheridan, Thomas (father of R. B. 
 
 Sheridan), 89, 92-3, 167, 235, 
 
 478, 495, 499, 528, 534. 
 Shiels, R., Johnson's amanuensis, 
 
 42, 56, 299. 
 
 Ship, worse than a gaol, 84, 266. 
 Shorthand, 2O6, 373, 478. 
 Siddons, Mrs., visits Johnson, 504 
 
 Simpson, Joseph, 83. 
 Sixteen-string Jack, 300. 
 Slavery, 353. "."'"' 
 
 Sleep, 339, 437. 
 Smart, Christopher (Kit), 97, 245. 
 
 488. 
 
 Smith, Adam, 16, 111, 402, 443. 
 Smollett, Dr. Tobias, 84. 
 Snakes, in Iceland, 375. 
 Society, 116-17, 185, 217, 239. 
 Socrates, 371. 
 
 Soldiers, 164, 202, 371, 413-4. 
 South Sea, 289, 524. 
 Southill, 63, 466-70. 
 Spain, 121. 
 
 Spectator, The, 160, 193, 444. 
 Spenser, Edmund, 214. 
 Spleen, The, 300, 429. 
 Spottiswoode, John, 399. 
 Staffordshire, 178, 276, 491. 
 Stanhope, Mr. (Lord Chester- 
 field's son), 535. 
 Statuary, 267. 
 
 Steele, Sir Richard, 237, 270. 
 Steevens, George, 132, 155, 176, 
 
 177, 234, 349, 423, 531. 
 Sterne, Rev. Laurence, 204, 271. 
 Stourbridge, 11. 
 Strahan, Rev. George, Vicar of 
 
 Islington, 52, 511, 556. 
 Strahan, William, the King's 
 
 Printer, 207, 226, 235-6, 323, 
 
 368. 402, 427, 530. 
 Stratford-on-Avon, 273, 282-3. 
 Streatham, visits to, 162, 261, 
 
 357, 364, 408, 410, 425, 472, 475. 
 Stuart, the House of, 39, 112, 204, 
 
 477. 
 Study, method of, 16, 104, 112, 
 
 123, 439. 
 Style in composition, 362, 368.
 
 INDEX 
 
 573 
 
 Subordination, 104, 117, 119, 203, 
 239, 314, 399, 412, 420. 
 
 Suicide, 208, 218. 
 
 Sunday, 74, 256. 
 
 Swearing, the habit of, 300, 347. 
 
 Swift, Jonathan, 121, 158, 234-5, 
 391. 
 
 Swinlen, Dr. Samuel, 14, 19. 
 
 Sympathy, 169-70, 281-2. 
 
 Taste, 527, 539. 
 
 Taverns, 272, 449. 
 
 Taxation no Tyranny, 233, 240, 
 
 353, 376. 
 
 Taylor, Rev. Dr. John, 8, 18, 38, 
 44, 54, 55, 284-6, 304, 326-7, 
 331-5, 340, 342, 345-9, 352, 
 
 354, C56, 510, 547, 559. 
 Teaching, 21, 496. 
 
 Temple, Rev. William Johnson, 
 115, 140, 217, 255. 
 
 Temple, Sir William, 211, 368, 
 402. 
 
 Tenantry, 125. 
 
 Thames, 122-3, 264, 444. 
 
 Theobald, Lewis, 80. 
 
 Thinking, liberty of, 217, 220. 
 
 Thrale, Henry, 134-7, 159, 162, 
 199, 207-10, 216, 237-8, 246, 
 258, 263, 281-3, 288, 291-2, 
 294-5, 297-300, 302, 364, 408, 
 415, 451-2, 454-5, 475, 539-40. 
 
 Thrale, Henry (son of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Thrale), 281-3. 
 
 Thrale, Hester Lynch (afterwards 
 Mrs. Piozzi), 106, 136-7, 159, 
 162-3, 200, 207, 246-7, 257-8, 
 263, 281, 283, 286, 302, 357-8, 
 362, 364, 393, 398, 408-9, 416, 
 448, 450, 452-4, 466, 475-8, 
 501, 514, 534, 539, 540, 546, 550. 
 
 Thurlow, first Lord, 245, 293, 435, 
 526, 533, 536, 540, 545. 
 
 Toleration, 217-21, 440, 496. 
 
 Toplady, Rev. Mr., 217, 221. 
 
 Tories and Toryism, 73, 398, 520. 
 
 Townshend, Right Hon. Charles, 
 204. 
 
 Townshend, Right Hon. Thomas, 
 528. 
 
 Trade, remarks on, 135, 191, 202. 
 
 Translations, 299, 367. 
 
 Travellers, ancient and modern, 
 359, 383. 
 
 Travelling, 113, 298, 411. 
 
 Trinity, doctrine of the, 221. 
 Truth, 357-8, 395, 498. 
 Tyers, Thomas, 388. 
 
 Universal Visiter, 245. 
 University; should be a school 
 
 where everything may be learnt, 
 
 153, 255, 289. 
 Uttoxeter Marker, 545. 
 
 Vails, 162. 
 
 Valetudinarians, 275, 287, 331. 
 
 Vanity of Human Wishes, 43-4, 
 
 143. 
 
 Vauxhall Gardens, 388. 
 Versailles, 258. 
 Vesey, Right Hon. Agmondesham, 
 
 131, 234, 434, 445. 
 Virgil, 350, 403. 
 Virtue, 113, 205, 499. 
 Vivacity, an art, 277. 
 Voltaire, 82, 114, 138, 141, 370, 
 
 4O3. 
 Vows, 413. 
 
 Wales, 136, 184, 228. 
 
 Wall, taking the, 28. 
 
 Waller, Edmund, 154, 251, 392. 
 
 Walmsley, Gilbert, 19-20, 280. 
 
 Walpole, Horace, 527. 
 
 Walpole, Sir Robert, 197, 306, 
 
 452, 527. 
 War, 371. 
 Warburton, William, Bishop of 
 
 Gloucester, 65, 80, 147, 519. 
 Warley Camp, 413. 
 Warton, Rev. Dr. Joseph, Head 
 
 Master of Winchester College, 
 
 79, 132, 149. 
 Warton, Rev. Thomas, 67-71, 
 
 131, 270, 527. 
 Waste, 393. 
 Watts, Dr. Isaac, 415. 
 Wealth, 465, 480. 
 Weather and seasons, 111, 120, 
 
 249, 387. 
 Wedderburne, Alexander. See 
 
 Loughborough, Lord. 
 Wesley, Rev. Charles, 381. 
 Wesley, Rev. John, 358, 381, 426, 
 
 456. 
 Westminster Abbey, 214, 317, 
 
 517, 558. 
 Wetherell, Rev. Dr., 249, 268, 
 
 524.
 
 574 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Whigs, and Whiggism, 69, 73, 
 398, 446, 499, 520. 
 
 Whitefleld, Rev. George, 18, 163, 
 431. 
 
 Whole Duty of Man, 15. 
 
 Wife, 48, 161, 180. 
 ' Wilkes, John, 84-5, 96, 140, 306- 
 15, 343, 397, 423, 460-2, 496. 
 
 William III, 243. 
 
 Williams, Anna, 35, 51, 56, 79, 
 80, 87, 95, 162, 182, 199, 207, 
 251, 259, 265, 296, 308-9, 315, 
 322, 356, 373, 414, 456-7, 494; 
 death, 503, 510; Johnson's re- 
 gard for, 108, 308-9, 407, 503^; 
 takes tea with her, 108, 125, 
 
 162, 172. 184, 187, 200, 249, 
 288, 391, 479. 
 
 Wilton, 255. 
 
 Windham, Right Hon. William, 
 132, 485, 507, 514, 553, 555, 559. 
 
 Wine, its effect on different per- 
 sons, 194, 196, 265-6, 300-1, 
 340, 363, 399, 419, 501. 
 
 Wirtemberg, Prince of, 192. 
 
 Witches, 420. 
 
 Wofnngton, Margaret (Peg), 371. 
 
 World, The, 63. 
 
 Yonge, Sir William, 133. 
 Young, Dr. Edward, 171, 387, 
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