Life of Johnson
by James Boswell
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
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    'Now, Muse, let's sing of rats.'

And what increased the ridicule was, that one of the company, 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
Tibullus, 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 till Oliver Cromwell's soldiers introduced them;
and one might thus shew how arts are propagated by conquest, as
they were by the Roman arms.'  He seemed to be much diverted with
the fertility of his own fancy.

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

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

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

Mr. Lloyd joined us in the street; and in a little while we met
Friend Hector, as Mr. Lloyd called him. It gave me pleasure to
observe the joy which Johnson and he expressed on seeing each other
again. Mr. Lloyd and I left them together, while he obligingly
shewed me some of the manufactures of this very curious assemblage
of artificers. We all met at dinner at Mr. Lloyd's, where we were
entertained with great hospitality. Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had been
married the same year with their Majesties, and like them, had been
blessed with a numerous family of fine children, their numbers
being exactly the same. Johnson said, 'Marriage is the best state
for 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 his first
love; who, though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very
agreeable, and well-bred.

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

When he again talked of Mrs. Careless to-night, he seemed to have
had his affection revived; for he said, 'If I had married her, it
might have been as happy for me.'  BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, do you not
suppose that there are fifty women in the world, with any one of
whom a man may be as happy, as with any one woman in particular?'
JOHNSON. 'Ay, Sir, fifty thousand.'  BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, you are
not of opinion with some who imagine that certain men and certain
women are made for each other; and that they 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 comfortable 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, recommends with such an eloquent jollity.

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

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

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

I saw here, for the first time, oat ale; and oat cakes not hard as
in Scotland, but soft like a Yorkshire cake, were served at
breakfast. It was pleasant to me to find, that Oats, the food of
horses, were so much used as the food of the people in Dr.
Johnson's own town. He expatiated in praise of 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 Lichfield. I
found however two strange manufactures for so inland a place, sail-
cloth and streamers for ships; and I observed them making some
saddle-cloths, and dressing sheepskins: but upon the whole, the
busy hand of industry seemed to be quite slackened. 'Surely, Sir,
(said I,) you are an idle set of people.'  'Sir, (said Johnson,) we
are a city of philosophers, we work with our heads, and make the
boobies of Birmingham work for us with their hands.'

There was at this time a company of players performing at
Lichfield, The manager, Mr. Stanton, sent his compliments, 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 him permission from Dr. Taylor at Ashbourne to
play there upon moderate terms. Garrick's name was soon
introduced. JOHNSON. 'Garrick's conversation is gay and
grotesque. It is a dish of all sorts, but all good things. There
is no solid meat in it: there is a want of sentiment in it. Not
but that he has 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. Garrick, his old master's taste in theatrical merit was
by no means refined; he was not an elegans formarum spectator.
Garrick used to tell, that Johnson said of an actor, who played Sir
Harry Wildair at Lichfield, 'There is a courtly vivacity about the
fellow;' when in fact, according to Garrick's account, 'he was the
most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon boards.'

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

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

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

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

We dined at Mr. Peter Garrick's, who was in a very lively humour,
and verified Johnson's saying, that if he had cultivated gaiety as
much as his brother David, he might have equally excelled in it.
He was to-day quite a London narrator, telling us a variety of
anecdotes with that earnestness and attempt at 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, worshipping
in the 'solemn temple' of his native city.

I returned to tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, and then found
Dr. Johnson at the Reverend Mr. Seward's, Canon Residentiary, who
inhabited the Bishop's palace, in which Mr. Walmsley lived, and
which had been the scene of many happy hours in Johnson's early
life.

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
dreadful things that has happened in my time.'  The phrase my time,
like the word age, is usually understood to refer to an event of a
publick or general nature. I imagined something like an
assassination of the King--like a gunpowder plot carried into
execution--or like another fire of London. When asked, 'What is
it, Sir?' he answered, 'Mr. Thrale has lost his only son!'  This
was, no doubt, a very great affliction to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale,
which their friends would consider accordingly; but from the manner
in which the intelligence of it was communicated by Johnson, it
appeared for the moment to be comparatively small. I, however,
soon felt a sincere concern, and was curious to observe, how Dr.
Johnson would be affected. He said, 'This is a total extinction to
their family, as much as if they were sold into captivity.'  Upon
my mentioning that Mr. Thrale had daughters, who might inherit his
wealth;--'Daughters, (said Johnson, warmly,) he'll no more value
his daughters than--'  I was going to speak.--'Sir, (said he,)
don't you know how you yourself think? Sir, he wishes to propagate
his name.'  In short, I saw male succession strong in his mind,
even where there was no name, no family of any long standing. I
said, it was lucky he was not present when this misfortune
happened. JOHNSON. 'It is lucky for ME. People in distress never
think that you feel enough.'  BOSWELL. 'And Sir, they will have
the hope of seeing you, which will be a relief in the mean time;
and when you get to them, the pain will be so far abated, that they
will be capable of being consoled by you, which, in the first
violence of it, I believe, would not be the case.'  JOHNSON. 'No,
Sir; violent pain of mind, 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 this, that I would do all in my power to relieve
them.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir it is affectation to pretend to feel the
distress of others, as much as they do themselves. It is equally
so, as if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's
leg is cutting off, as he does. No, Sir; you have expressed the
rational and just nature of sympathy. I would have gone to the
extremity of the earth to have preserved this boy.'

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

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

Mrs. Aston, whom I had seen the preceding night, and her sister,
Mrs. Gastrel, a widow lady, had each a house and garden, and
pleasure-ground, prettily situated upon Stowhill, a gentle
eminence, adjoining to Lichfield. Johnson walked away to dinner
there, leaving me by myself without any apology; I wondered at this
want of that facility of manners, from which a man has no
difficulty in carrying a friend to a house where he is intimate; I
felt it very unpleasant to be thus left in solitude in a country
town, where I was an entire stranger, and began to think myself
unkindly deserted; but I was soon relieved, and convinced that my
friend, instead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted the
matter with perfect propriety, for I received the following 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 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
brooding over grief.

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

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

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

'Marriage, Sir, is much more necessary to a man than to a woman;
for he is much less able to supply himself with domestick comforts.
You will recollect my saying to some ladies the other day, that I
had often wondered why young women should marry, as they have so
much more freedom, and so much more attention paid to them while
unmarried, than when married. I indeed did not mention the STRONG
reason for their marrying--the MECHANICAL reason.'  BOSWELL. 'Why,
that IS a strong one. But does not imagination make it 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 gentlemen. It
is assuming a superiority, and it is particularly wrong 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 recollection.'

'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 corresponding with his substantial creditable equipage:
his house, garden, pleasure-grounds, table, in short every thing
good, and no scantiness appearing. Every man should form such a
plan of living as he can execute completely. Let him not draw an
outline wider than he can fill up. I have seen many skeletons of
shew and magnificence which excite at once ridicule and pity. Dr.
Taylor had a good estate of his own, and good preferment in the
church, being a prebendary of Westminster, and rector of Bosworth.
He was a diligent justice of the peace, and presided over the town
of Ashbourne, to the inhabitants of which I was told he was very
liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he had the
preceding winter distributed two hundred pounds among such of them
as stood in need of his assistance. He had consequently a
considerable political interest in the county of Derby, which he
employed to support the Devonshire family; for though the
schoolfellow and friend of Johnson, he was a Whig. I could not
perceive in his character much congeniality of any sort with that
of Johnson, who, however, said to me, 'Sir, he has a very strong
understanding.'  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.

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

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

Having left Ashbourne in the evening, we stopped to change horses
at Derby, and availed ourselves of a moment to enjoy the
conversation of my 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 answered Mrs.
Thrale, who had asked him how he did, 'Ready to become a scoundrel,
Madam; with a little more spoiling you will, I think, make me a
complete rascal:' he meant, 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 mentioned a common remark, that a
man may be, upon the whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very
small portion, because a woman of fortune will be proportionally
expensive; whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate in
expenses. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this is not true. A
woman of fortune being used to the handling of money, spends it
judiciously: but a woman who gets the command of money for the
first time upon her marriage, has such a gust in spending it, that
she throws it away with great profusion.'

He praised the ladies of the present age, insisting that they were
more faithful to their husbands, and more virtuous in every
respect, than in former times, because their understandings were
better cultivated.

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 experienced immediate happiness
while whirled along with such a companion, and said to him, 'Sir,
you observed one day at General Oglethorpe's, that a man is never
happy for the present, but when he is drunk. Will you not add,--or
when driving rapidly in a post-chaise?'  JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, you
are driving rapidly FROM something, or TO something.'

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

We stopped at Messieurs Dillys, booksellers in the Poultry; from
whence he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to Mr. Thrale's, in the
Borough. I called at his house in the evening, having promised to
acquaint Mrs. Williams of his safe return; when, to my surprize, I
found him sitting with her at tea, and, as I thought, not in a very
good humour: for, it seems, when he 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 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 present 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 savage 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 learning does not
flourish in them as it would do, if those who teach had smaller
salaries, and depended on their assiduity for a great part of their
income. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the very reverse of this is the truth; the
English Universities are not rich enough. Our fellowships are only
sufficient to support a man during his studies to fit him for the
world, and accordingly in general they are held no longer than till
an opportunity offers of getting away. Now and then, perhaps,
there is a fellow who grows old in his college; but this is against
his will, unless he be a man very indolent indeed. A hundred a
year is reckoned a good fellowship, and that is no more than is
necessary to keep a man decently as a scholar. We do not allow our
fellows to marry, because we consider academical institutions as
preparatory to a settlement in the world. It is only by being
employed as a tutor, that a fellow can obtain any thing more than a
livelihood. To be sure a man, who has enough without teaching,
will probably not teach; for we would all be idle if we could. In
the same manner, a man who is to get nothing by teaching, will not
exert himself. Gresham College was intended as a place of
instruction for London; able professors were to read lectures
gratis, they contrived to have no scholars; whereas, if they had
been allowed to receive but 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 provisions. I wish there were many places of a
thousand a-year at Oxford, to keep first-rate men of learning from
quitting the University.'

I mentioned Mr. Maclaurin's uneasiness on account of a degree of
ridicule carelessly thrown on his deceased father, in Goldsmith's
History of Animated Nature, in which that celebrated mathematician
is represented as being subject to fits of yawning so violent as to
render him incapable of proceeding in his lecture; a story
altogether unfounded, but for the publication of which the law
would give no reparation. 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 attended the
morning service at St. Clement's Church, I walked home with
Johnson. We talked of the Roman Catholick religion. JOHNSON. 'In
the barbarous ages, Sir, priests and people were equally deceived;
but afterwards there were gross corruptions introduced by the
clergy, such as indulgencies 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 affectation about him;
and he talked, as usual, upon indifferent subjects. He seemed to
me to hesitate as to the intended Italian tour, on which, I
flattered myself, he and Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson were soon to
set out; and, therefore, I pressed it as much as I could. I
mentioned, that Mr. Beauclerk had said, that Baretti, whom they
were to carry with them, would keep them so long in the little
towns of his own district, that they would not have time to see
Rome. I mentioned this, to put them on their guard. JOHNSON.
'Sir, we do not thank Mr. Beauclerk for supposing that we are to be
directed by Baretti. No, Sir; Mr. Thrale is to go, by my advice,
to Mr. Jackson, (the all-knowing) and get from him a plan for
seeing the most that can be seen in the time that we have to
travel. We must, to be sure, see Rome, Naples, Florence, and
Venice, and as much more as we can.'  (Speaking with a tone of
animation.)

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

He gave us one of the many sketches of character which were
treasured in his mind, and which he was wont to produce quite
unexpectedly in a very entertaining manner. 'I lately, (said he,)
received a letter from the East Indies, from a gentleman whom I
formerly knew very well; he had returned from that country with a
handsome fortune, as it was reckoned, before means were found to
acquire those immense sums which have been brought from thence of
late; he was a scholar, and an agreeable man, and lived very
prettily in London, till his wife died. After her death, he took
to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he had. One evening he
lost a thousand pounds to a gentleman whose name I am sorry I have
forgotten. Next morning he sent the gentleman 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 accompanying him. Had I
thought then as I do now, I should have gone: but, at that time, I
had objections to quitting England.'

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

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 Forrester 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 to]d me, 'I learnt
what I know of law, chiefly from Mr. Ballow, a very able man. I
learnt some, too, from Chambers; but was not so teachable then.
One is not willing to be taught by a young man.'  When I expressed
a wish to know more about Mr. Ballow, Johnson said, 'Sir, I have
seen him but once these twenty years. The tide of life has driven
us different ways.'  I was sorry at the time to hear this; but
whoever quits the creeks of private connections, and fairly gets
into the great ocean of London, will, by imperceptible degrees,
unavoidably experience such cessations of acquaintance.

'My knowledge of physick, (he added,) I learnt from Dr. James, whom
I helped in writing the proposals for his Dictionary and also a
little in the Dictionary itself. I also learnt 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 opinions which he was sensible were wrong,
but in supporting which, his reasoning and wit would be most
conspicuous. He would begin thus: 'Why, Sir, as to the good or
evil of card-playing--'  'Now, (said Garrick,) he is thinking which
side he shall take.'  He appeared to have a pleasure in
contradiction, especially when any opinion whatever was delivered
with an air of confidence; so that there was hardly any topick, if
not one of the great truths of Religion and Morality, that he might
not have been incited to argue, either for or against. Lord
Elibank had the highest admiration of his powers. He once observed
to me, 'Whatever opinion Johnson maintains, I will not say that he
convinces me; but he never fails to 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 without learning
something.'

We sat together till it was too late for the afternoon service.
Thrale said he had come with intention to go to church with us. We
went at seven to evening prayers at St. Clement's church, after
having drank coffee; an indulgence, which I understood Johnson
yielded to on this occasion, in 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 acquaintance, 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 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 Geography, came
in. He mentioned that he had been forty years absent from
Scotland. 'Ah, Boswell! (said Johnson, smiling,) what would you
give to be forty years from Scotland?'  I said, 'I should not like
to be so long absent from the seat of my ancestors.'  This
gentleman, Mrs. Williams, and Mr. Levet, dined with us.

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

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

When the service was ended, I went home with him, and we sat
quietly by ourselves.

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

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

I said, I disliked the custom which some people had of bringing
their children into company, because it in a manner forced us to
pay foolish 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 you felt it.'  JOHNSON. 'Why, really, Madam, I do not
recollect a time when that was the case.'

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

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

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

We talked of translation. I said, I could not define it, nor could
I think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it appeared to
me the translation of poetry could be only imitation. JOHNSON.
'You may translate books of science exactly. You may also
translate history, in so far as it is not embellished with oratory,
which is poetical. Poetry, indeed, 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 preserved little of
the conversation of this evening. Dr. Johnson said, 'Thomson had a
true poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a
poetical light. His fault is such a cloud of words sometimes, that
the sense can hardly peep through. Shiels, who 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 he acknowledged
that there was no poetry, nothing that towered above the common
mark. You may find wit and humour in verse, and yet no poetry.
Hudibras has a profusion of these; yet it is not to be reckoned a
poem. The Spleen, in Dodsley's Collection, on which you say he
chiefly rested, is not poetry.'  BOSWELL. 'Does not Gray's poetry,
Sir, tower above the common mark?'  JOHNSON. Yes, Sir; but we must
attend to the difference between what men in general cannot do if
they would, and what every man may do if he would. Sixteen-string
Jack* towered above the common mark.'  BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, what
is poetry?'  JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is much easier to say what it
is not. We all KNOW what light is; but it is not easy to TELL what
it is.'

* 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 knees of his breeches.--BOSWELL.

On Friday, April 12, I dined with him at our friend Tom Davies's.
He reminded Dr. Johnson of Mr. Murphy's having paid him the highest
compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by asking his pardon for
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. Langton, Mr. Nairne, now one
of the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dunsinan, and my very
worthy friend, Sir William Forbes, of Pitsligo.

We discussed the question whether drinking improved conversation
and benevolence. Sir Joshua maintained it did. JOHNSON. 'No,
Sir: before dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding;
and those who are conscious of their inferiority, have the modesty
not to talk. When they have drunk wine, every man feels himself
happy, and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous:
but he is not improved; he is only not sensible of his defects.'
Sir Joshua said the Doctor was talking of the effects of excess in
wine; but that a moderate glass enlivened the mind, by giving a
proper circulation to the blood. 'I am (said he,) in very good
spirits, when I get up in the morning. By dinner-time I am
exhausted; wine puts me in the same state as when I got up; and I
am sure that moderate 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 necessary to be
drunk one's self, to relish the wit of drunkenness. Do we not
judge of the drunken wit, of the dialogue between Iago and Cassio,
the most excellent in its kind, when we are quite sober? Wit is
wit, by whatever means it is produced; and, if good, will appear so
at all times. I admit that the spirits are raised by drinking, as
by the common participation of any pleasure: cock-fighting, or
bear-baiting, will raise the spirits of a company, as drinking
does, though surely they will not improve conversation. I also
admit, that there are some sluggish men who are improved by
drinking; as there are fruits which are not good till they are
rotten. There are such men, but they are medlars. I indeed allow
that there have been a very few men of talents who were improved by
drinking; but I maintain that I am right as to the effects of
drinking in general: and let it be considered, that there is no
position, however false in its universality, which is not true of
some particular man.'  Sir William Forbes said, 'Might not a man
warmed with wine be like a bottle of beer, which is made brisker by
being set before the fire?'--'Nay, (said Johnson, laughing,) I
cannot answer that: that is too much for me.'

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

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

He said, that for general improvement, a man should read whatever
his 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 entertained almost constantly
during my stay. They were gone to the rooms; but there was a kind
note from Dr. Johnson, that he should sit at home all the evening.
I went to him directly, and before Mr. and Mrs. Thrale returned, we
had by ourselves some hours of tea-drinking and talk.

I shall 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 disliked, had
of late become very fond of dress, sat hours together at her
toilet, and even put on rouge:--JohnsoN. 'She is better employed
at her toilet, than using her pen. It is better she should be
reddening her own cheeks, than blackening other people's
characters.'

He would not allow me to praise a lady then at Bath; observing,
'She does not gain upon me, Sir; I think her empty-headed.'  He
was, indeed, a stern critick upon characters and manners. Even
Mrs. Thrale did not escape his friendly animadversion at times.
When he and I were one day endeavouring to ascertain, article by
article, how one of our friends could possibly spend as much money
in his family as he told us he did, she interrupted us by a lively
extravagant sally, on the expence of clothing his children,
describing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful manner. Johnson
looked a little angry, and said, 'Nay, Madam, when you are
declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate.'  At
another time, when she said, perhaps affectedly, 'I don't like to
fly.'  JOHNSON. 'With YOUR wings, Madam, you MUST fly: but have a
care, there are CLIPPERS 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
Blair 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, 'I'll 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 circumstances with which they were attended,
we were quite satisfied of the imposture, which, indeed, has been
clearly demonstrated from internal evidence, by several able
criticks.

Honest Catcot seemed to pay no attention whatever to any
objections, but insisted, as an end of all controversy, that we
should go with him to the tower of the church of St. Mary,
Redcliff, and VIEW WITH OUR OWN EYES the ancient chest in which the
manuscripts were found. To this, Dr. Johnson good-naturedly
agreed; and though troubled with a shortness of breathing, laboured
up a long flight of steps, till we came to the place where the
wonderous chest stood. 'THERE, (said Cateot, with a bouncing
confident credulity,) THERE is the very chest itself.'  After this
OCULAR DEMONSTRATION, there was no more to be said. He brought to
my recollection a Scotch Highlander, a man of learning too, and who
had seen the world, attesting, and at the same time giving his
reasons for the authenticity of Fingal:--'I have heard all that
poem when I was young.'--'Have you, Sir? Pray what have you
heard?'--'I have heard Ossian, Oscar, and EVERY ONE OF THEM.'

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

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

After Dr. Johnson's return to London, I was several times with him
at his house, where I occasionally slept, in the room that had been
assigned to me. I dined with him at Dr. Taylor's, at General
Oglethorpe's, and at General Paoli's. To avoid a tedious
minuteness, I shall 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 made a
very pretty book. Take out the immorality, and it should be put
into the hands of every young gentleman. An elegant manner and
easiness of behaviour are acquired gradually and imperceptibly. No
man can say "I'll be genteel."  There are ten genteel women for one
genteel man, because they are more restrained. A man without some
degree of restraint is insufferable; but we are all less restrained
than women. Were a woman sitting in company to put out her legs
before her as most men do, we should be tempted to kick them in.'

No man was a more attentive and nice observer of behaviour in those
in whose company he happened to be, than Johnson; or, however
strange it may seem to many, had a higher estimation of its
refinements. Lord Eliot informs me, that one day when Johnson and
he were at dinner at a gentleman's house in London, upon Lord
Chesterfield's Letters being mentioned, Johnson 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 conversation 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
not capable of such conversation, are left out, and feel themselves
uneasy. It was for this reason, Sir Robert Walpole said, he always
talked bawdy at his table, because in that all could join.'

Being irritated by hearing a gentleman* ask Mr. Levett a variety of
questions concerning him, when he was sitting by, he broke out,
'Sir, you have but two topicks, yourself and me. I am sick of
both.'  'A man, (said he,) should not talk of himself, nor much of
any particular person. He should take care not to be made a
proverb; and, therefore, should avoid having any one topick of
which people can say, "We shall hear him upon it."  There was a Dr.
Oldfield, who was always talking of the Duke of Marlborough. He
came into a coffee-house one day, and told that his Grace had
spoken in the House of Lords for half an hour. "Did he indeed
speak for half an hour?" (said Belehier, 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."'

* Most likely Boswell himself.--HILL.

I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. Johnson's Life,
which fell under my own observation; of which pars magna fui, and
which I am 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 time, obtain an
introduction to Dr. Samuel Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq. Two
men more different could perhaps not be selected out of all
mankind. They had even attacked one another with some asperity in
their writings; yet I lived in habits of friendship with both. I
could fully relish the excellence of each; for I have ever
delighted in that intellectual chymistry, which can separate good
qualities from evil in the same person.

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

My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs 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 negotiate 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 for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world as to
imagine that I am to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to
have at his table?'  BOSWELL. 'I beg your pardon, Sir, for wishing
to prevent you from meeting people whom you might not like.
Perhaps he may have some of what he calls his patriotick friends
with him.'  Johnson. 'Well, Sir, and what then? What care I for
his PATRIOTICK FRIENDS? Poh!'  BOSWELL. 'I should not be
surprized to find Jack Wilkes there.'  Johnson. 'And if Jack
Wilkes SHOULD be there, what is that to ME, Sir? My dear friend,
let us have no more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you; but
really it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if I could not
meet any company whatever, occasionally.'  BOSWELL. 'Pray forgive
me, Sir: I meant well. But you shall meet whoever comes, for me.'
Thus I secured him, and told Dilly that he would find him very well
pleased to be one of his guests on the day appointed.

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

Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was so confident I
had secured would yet be frustrated. He had accustomed himself to
shew Mrs. Williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently
imposed some restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be
obstinate, he would not stir. I hastened down stairs to the blind
lady's room, and told her I was in great uneasiness, for Dr.
Johnson had engaged to me to dine this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that
he had told me he had forgotten his engagement, and had ordered
dinner at home. 'Yes, Sir, (said she, pretty peevishly,) Dr.
Johnson is to dine at home.'--'Madam, (said I,) his respect for you
is such, that I know he will not leave you unless you absolutely
desire it. But as you have so much of his company, I hope you will
be good enough to forego it for a day; as Mr. Dilly is a very
worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for
Dr. Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day.
And then, Madam, be pleased to consider my situation; I carried the
message, and I assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come, and
no doubt he has made a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted
of the honour he expected to have. I shall be quite disgraced if
the Doctor is not there.'  She gradually softened to my
solicitations, which were certainly as earnest as most entreaties
to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously pleased to empower
me to tell Dr. Johnson, 'That all things considered, she thought he
should certainly go.'  I flew back to him, still in dust, and
careless of what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice to
go or stay;' but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams'
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 himself in the
midst of a company he did not know. I kept myself snug and silent,
watching how he would conduct himself. I observed him whispering
to Mr. Dilly, 'Who is that gentleman, Sir?'--'Mr. Arthur Lee.'--
JOHNSON. 'Too, too, too,' (under his breath,) which was one of his
habitual mutterings. Mr. Arthur Lee could not but be very
obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not only a PATRIOT but an
AMERICAN. He was afterwards minister from the United States at the
court of Madrid. 'And who is the gentleman in lace?'--'Mr. Wilkes,
Sir.'  This information confounded him still more; he had some
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 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 recommend a squeeze of this orange;--or the
lemon, perhaps, may have more zest.'--'Sir, Sir, I am obliged to
you, Sir,' cried Johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with
a look for some time of 'surly virtue,' but, in a short while, of
complacency.

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

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

Talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick information
for biography, Johnson told us, 'When I was a young fellow I wanted
to write the Life of Dryden, and in order to get materials, I
applied to the only two persons then alive who had seen him; these
were old 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.'  BOSWELL. 'You will allow his Apology to be well
done.'  JOHNSON. 'Very well done, to be sure, Sir. That book is a
striking proof of the justice of Pope's remark:

    "Each might his several province well command,
     Would all but stoop to what they understand."'

BOSWELL. 'And his plays are good.'  JOHNSON. 'Yes; but that was
his trade; l'esprit du corps: he had been all his life among
players and play-writers. I wondered that he had so little to say
in conversation, for he had kept the best company, and learnt all
that can be got by the ear. He abused Pindar to me, and then
shewed me an Ode of his own, with an absurd couplet, making a
linnet soar on an eagle's wing. I told him that when the ancients
made a simile, they always made it like something real.'

Mr. Wilkes remarked, that 'among all the bold flights of
Shakspeare's imagination, the boldest was making Birnamwood 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 barrenness is comparative. The SCOTCH
would not know it to be barren.'  BOSWELL. 'Come, come, he is
flattering the English. You have now been in Scotland, Sir, and
say if you did not see meat and drink enough there.'  JOHNSON.
'Why yes, Sir; meat and drink enough to give the 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 satisfied of the strange narrow
ignorance of those who imagine that it is a land of famine. But
they amused themselves with persevering in the old jokes. When I
claimed a superiority for Scotland over 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 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 savages in Scotland, and among rakes in London.'
WILKES. 'Except when he is with grave, sober, decent people like
you and me.'  JOHNSON. (smiling,) 'And we ashamed of him.'

They were quite frank and easy. Johnson told the story of his
asking Mrs. Macaulay to allow her footman to sit down with them, to
prove the 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 connoisseur. He
afterwards, in a conversation with me, waggishly insisted, that all
the time Johnson shewed visible 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 sweetening any acidity,
which in the various bustle of political contest, had been produced
in the minds of two men, who though widely different, had so many
things in common--classical learning, modern 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 NEGOCIATION; and
pleasantly said, that 'there was nothing to equal it in the whole
history of the Corps Diplomatique.'

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

I talked a good deal to him of the celebrated Margaret Caroline
Rudd, whom I had visited, induced by the fame of her talents,
address, and irresistible power of fascination. To a lady who
disapproved of my visiting her, he said on a former occasion, 'Nay,
Madam, Boswell is in the right; I should have visited her myself,
were it not that they have now a trick of putting every thing into
the 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 respect which he entertained for the
taste and judgement of the excellent and eminent person to whom
they are addressed:

TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

DEAR SIR,--I have been kept away from you, I know not well how, and
of these 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.

            OLIVARII GOLDSMITH,

        Poetae, Physici, Historici,
       Qui nullum fere scribendi genus
               Non tetigit,
       Nullum quod tetiqit non ornavit:
          Sive risus essent movendi,
               Sive lacrymae,
     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 Hibernia Forniae Longfordiensis,
          In loco cui nomen Pallas,
            Nov. XXIX. MDCCXXXI;
         Eblanae literis institutus;
               Obiit Londini,
            April IV, MDCCLXXIV.'

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 received it with
much good humour,* 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 walls
of Westminster Abbey with an English inscription.

* He however, upon seeing Dr. Warton's name to the suggestion, that
the Epitaph should be in English, observed to Sir Joshua, 'I wonder
that Joe Warton, 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
fit 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!'--BOSWELL.

'I consider this Round Robin as a species of literary curiosity
worth preserving, as it marks, in a certain degree, Dr. Johnson's
character.'

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

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

'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. Boswell'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 difficulties 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 Lichfield, and he has
followed Mr. Thrale to Bath. Pray take care of him, and tame him.
The only thing in which I have the honour to agree with you is, in
loving him; and while we are so much of a mind in a matter of so
much importance, our other quarrels will, I hope, produce no great
bitterness. I am, Madam, your most humble servant,

'May 16, 1776.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

I select from his private register the following passage:

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

It appears from a note subjoined, that this was composed when he
'purposed to apply vigorously to study, particularly of the Greek
and Italian tongues.'

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

1777: AETAT. 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 constitutional gloom,
which, together with his extreme humility and anxiety with regard
to his religious state, made him contemplate himself through too
dark and unfavourable a medium. It may be said of him, that he
'saw GOD in clouds.'  Certain we may be of his injustice to himself
in the following lamentable paragraph, which it is painful to think
came from the contrite heart of this great man, to whose labours
the world is so much indebted: 'When I survey my past life, I
discover nothing but a barren waste of time with some disorders of
body, and disturbances of the mind, very near to madness, which I
hope He that made me will suffer to extenuate many faults, and
excuse many deficiencies.'  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 miseries, and
knowest all our necessities, look down upon me, and pity me.
Defend me from the violent incursion [incursions] 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 protect 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 situation,
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. 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
sometimes 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 Archibald 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. . . .

'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. . . .

'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.

'MY 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 dona ferentes.
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 interview; few men, nay I may say,
scarcely any man, has got that fund of knowledge and entertainment
as Dr. Johnson in conversation. When he opens freely, every one is
attentive to what he says, and cannot fail of improvement as well
as pleasure.

'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 addition, 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 examining 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 inaccuracy
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 booksellers
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 opinions were given, to proceed
immediately on the business. Accordingly a meeting was held,
consisting of about forty of the most respectable booksellers of
London, when it was agreed that an elegant and uniform edition of
The English Poets should be immediately printed, with a concise
account of the life of each authour, by Dr. Samuel Johnson; and
that three persons should be deputed to wait upon Dr. Johnson, to
solicit him to undertake the Lives, viz., T. Davies, Strahan, and
Cadell. The Doctor very politely 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:* it was immediately 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,
editorship, 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 cannot 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.'

* Johnson's moderation in demanding so small a sum is
extraordinary. Had he asked one thousand, or even fifteen hundred
guineas, the booksellers, 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-five years.--
MALONE.

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

On the 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 received 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 sincerest 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
operates 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.'

'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 lasting; but that he found he could not keep it long.
JOHNSON. 'All grief for what cannot in the course of nature be
helped, soon wears away; in some sooner, indeed, in some later; but
it never continues very long, unless where there is madness, such
as will make a man have pride so fixed in his mind, as to imagine
himself a King; or any other passion in an unreasonable way: for
all unnecessary grief is unwise, and therefore will not be long
retained by a sound mind. If, indeed, the cause of our grief is
occasioned by our own misconduct, if grief is mingled with remorse
of conscience, it should be lasting.'  BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, we do
not approve of a man who very soon forgets the loss of a wife or a
friend.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, we disapprove of him, not because he soon
forgets his grief, for the sooner it is forgotten the better, but
because we suppose, that if he forgets his wife or his friend soon,
he has not had much affection for them.'

I was somewhat disappointed in finding that the edition of The
English Poets, 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,* Johnson carried me to see the garden belonging to
the school of Ashbourne, which is very prettily formed upon a bank,
rising gradually behind the house. The Reverend Mr. Langley, the
head-master, accompanied us.

* Next morning.--ED.

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

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

And here is the proper place to give an account of Johnson's humane
and zealous interference in behalf of the Reverend Dr. William
Dodd, formerly Prebendary of Brecon, and chaplain in ordinary to
his Majesty; celebrated as a very popular preacher, an encourager
of charitable institutions, and authour of a variety of works,
chiefly theological. Having unhappily 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 exposure
of his circumstances, forged a bond of which he attempted to avail
himself to support his credit, flattering himself with hopes that
he might be able to repay its amount without being detected. The
person, whose name he thus rashly and criminally presumed to
falsify, was the Earl of Chesterfield, to whom he had been tutor,
and who, he perhaps, in the warmth of his feelings, flattered
himself would have 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 unfortunate
divine had the mortification to find that he was mistaken. 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 bethought himself of Johnson's
persuasive power of writing, if haply it might avail to obtain for
him the Royal Mercy. He did not apply to him directly, but,
extraordinary as it may seem, through the late Countess of
Harrington, who wrote a letter to Johnson, asking him to employ his
pen in favour of Dodd. Mr. Allen, the printer, who was Johnson's
landlord and next neighbour in Bolt-court, and for whom he had much
kindness, was one of Dodd's friends, of whom to the credit of
humanity be it recorded, that he had many who did not desert him,
even after his infringement of the law had reduced him to the state
of a man under sentence of death. Mr. Allen told me that he
carried Lady Harrington's letter to Johnson, that Johnson read it
walking up and down his chamber, and seemed much agitated, after
which he said, 'I will do what I can;'--and certainly he did make
extraordinary exertions.

He this evening, as he had obligingly promised in one of his
letters, put into my hands the whole series of his writings upon
this melancholy occasion.

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 Chancellor Bathurst,
(not Lord North, as is erroneously supposed,) and one to Lord
Mansfield;--A Petition from Dr. Dodd to the King;--A Petition from
Mrs. Dodd to the Queen;--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 miserable of
men applies himself to your clemency, as his last hope and his last
refuge; that your mercy is most earnestly and humbly implored by a
clergyman, whom your Laws and Judges have condemned to the horrour
and ignominy of a publick execution. . . .'

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 fervent 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
benevolent 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:--

'TO THE REVEREND DR. DODD.

'DEAR SIR,--That which is appointed to all men is now 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 desireth not our
death, accept your repentance, for the sake of his SON JESUS CHRIST
our Lord.

'In requital of those well-intended offices which you are pleased
so 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 Johnson'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 ambition is to be a fine
talker; so he goes to Buxton, and such places, where he may find
companies to listen to him. And, Sir, he is a valetudinarian, one
of those who are always mending themselves. I do not know a more
disagreeable character than a valetudinarian, who thinks he may do
any thing that is for his ease, and indulges himself in the
grossest freedoms: Sir, he brings himself to the state of a hog in
a stye.'

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

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.

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

Talking of biography, I said, in writing a life, a man's
peculiarities should be mentioned, because they mark his character.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question
is, whether a man's vices should be 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
varying from himself in talk; for when Lord Hailes and he sat one
morning calmly conversing in my house at Edinburgh, I well remember
that Dr. Johnson maintained, that 'If a man is to write A
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 debased by it.'  And in the Hebrides he
maintained, as appears from my Journal, that a man's intimate
friend should mention his faults, if he writes his life.

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

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

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 purpose, Sir? If I say a man is drunk, and
you tell me it is owing to his taking much drink, the matter is not
mended. No, Sir, ------ has taken to an odd mode. For example,
he'd write thus:

    "Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
       Wearing out life's evening gray."

Gray evening is common enough; but evening gray he'd think fine.--
Stay;--we'll make out the stanza:

    "Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
       Wearing out life's evening gray;
     Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,
       What is bliss? and which the way?"'

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

    '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 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 respectful admiration: for one of them sixty pounds was
offered. The excellent smooth gravel roads; the large piece of
water formed by his Lordship from some small brooks, with a
handsome barge upon it; the venerable Gothick church, now the
family chapel, just by the house; in short, the grand 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 housekeeper, 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-chambers but indifferent
rooms; and that the immense sum which it cost was injudiciously
laid out. Dr. Taylor had put him in mind of his APPEARING pleased
with the house. 'But (said he,) that was when Lord Scarsdale was
present. Politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a man's
works when he is present. No man will be so ill bred as to
question you. You may therefore pay compliments without saying
what is not true. I should 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! Quae terra nostri non plena laboris.'  He observed,
also, Goldsmith's Animated Nature; and said, 'Here's our friend!
The poor Doctor would have been happy to hear of this.'

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

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

I felt a pleasure in walking about Derby such as I always have in
walking about any town to which I am not accustomed. There is an
immediate 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
perpendicular;--drawing long or short strokes;--beginning at the
upper part of the face, or the under;--at the right side or the
left side. Indeed, when one considers what variety of sounds can
be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass of a very small
aperture, we may he convinced how many degrees of difference there
may be in the application of a razor.

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

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

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

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

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

I talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. Dr. Johnson
told me, 'that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when she was
eager in study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she
therefore had a contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-
light should burn a string to which a heavy weight was suspended,
which then fell with a strong sudden noise: this roused her from
sleep, and then she had no difficulty in getting up.'  But I said
THAT was my difficulty; and wished there could be some medicine
invented which would make one rise without pain, which I never did,
unless after lying in bed a very long time.

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

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

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

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

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 wished to make my
chief residence in London, the great scene of ambition,
instruction, and amusement: a scene, which was to me, comparatively
speaking, a heaven upon earth. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I never knew
any one who had such a GUST for London as you have: and I 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 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.'

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

We talked of employment being absolutely necessary to preserve the
mind from wearying and growing fretful, especially in those who
have a tendency to melancholy; and I mentioned to him a saying
which somebody had related of an American savage, who, when an
European was expatiating on all the advantages of money, 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 Ashbourne, which
is one of the largest and most luminous that I have seen in any
town of the same size. I felt great satisfaction in considering
that I was supported in my fondness 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 furnished me with a stronger
reason; for Johnson mentioned to him, that he had been told by
Taylor he was to be his heir. I shall not take upon me to
animadvert upon this; but certain it is, that Johnson paid great
attention to Taylor. He now, however, said to me, 'Sir, I love
him; but I do not love him more; my regard for him does not
increase. As it is said in the Apocrypha, "his talk is of
bullocks:" I do not suppose he is very fond of my company. His
habits are by no means sufficiently clerical: this he knows that I
see; and no man likes to live under the eye of perpetual
disapprobation.'

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

I, however, would not have it thought, that Dr. Taylor, though he
could not write like Johnson, (as, indeed, who could?) 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 handwriting; 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 a very strong mind,
who had little of that tenderness which is common to human nature;
as an instance of which, when I suggested to him that he should
invite his son, who had been settled ten years in foreign parts, to
come home and pay him a visit, his answer was, 'No, no, let him
mind his business. JOHNSON. 'I do not agree with him, Sir, in
this. Getting money is not all a man's business: to cultivate
kindness is a valuable part of the business of life.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

He found great fault with a gentleman of our acquaintance for
keeping a bad table. 'Sir, (said he,) when a man is invited to
dinner, he is 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 attention
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 composition 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 just as I please.'  And when Dr. Taylor talked of
a girl being sent to a parish workhouse, and asked how much she
could be obliged to work, 'Why, (said Johnson,) as much as is
reasonable: and what is that? as much as SHE THINKS reasonable.'

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

I recollect a very fine amphitheatre, surrounded with hills covered
with 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, in his History of
Staffordshire, gives an account of this curiosity; but Johnson
would not believe it, though we had the attestation of the
gardener, who said, he had put in corks, where the river Manyfold
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 extraordinary
things I ventured to say, 'Sir, you come near Hume's argument
against miracles, "That it is more probable witnesses should lie,
or be mistaken, than that they should happen."  JOHNSON. 'Why,
Sir, Hume, taking the proposition simply, is right. But the
Christian revelation is not proved by the miracles alone, but as
connected with prophecies, and with the doctrines in 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 Eglintoune, upon his having
fallen, when retreating from his Lordship, who he believed was
about to seize his gun, as he had threatened to do. He said, he
should have done just as Campbell did. JOHNSON. 'Whoever would do
as Campbell did, deserves to be hanged; not that I could, as a
juryman, have found him legally guilty of murder; but I am glad
they found means to convict him.'  The gentleman-farmer said, 'A
poor man has as much honour as a rich man; and Campbell had THAT to
defend.'  Johnson exclaimed, 'A poor man has no honour.'  The
English yeoman, not dismayed, proceeded: 'Lord Eglintoune was a
damned fool to run on upon Campbell, after being warned that
Campbell would shoot him if he did.'  Johnson, who could not bear
any thing like swearing, angrily replied, "He was NOT a DAMNED
fool: he only thought too well of Campbell. He did not believe
Campbell would be such a DAMNED scoundrel, as to do so DAMNED a
thing.'  His emphasis on DAMNED, accompanied with frowning looks,
reproved his opponent's want of decorum in HIS presence.

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

I cannot allow any fragment whatever that floats in my memory
concerning the great subject of this work to be lost. Though a
small particular may appear trifling to some, it will be relished
by others; while every little spark adds something to the general
blaze: and to please the true, candid, warm admirers of Johnson,
and in any degree increase the splendour of his 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 obstructed by branches of trees and other rubbish,
which had come down the river, and settled close to it. Johnson,
partly from a desire to see it play more freely, and partly from
that inclination to activity which will animate, at times, the most
inert and sluggish mortal, took a long pole which was lying on 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, (throwing
down the pole,) 'YOU shall take it now;' which I accordingly did,
and being a fresh man, soon made the cat tumble over the cascade.
This may be laughed at as too trifling to record; but it is a small
characteristick trait in the Flemish picture which I give of my
friend, and in which, therefore I mark the most minute particulars.
And let it be remembered, that Aesop at play is one of the
instructive apologues of antiquity.

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 Purganti and his Wife. JOHNSON. Sir,
there is nothing there, but that his wife wanted to be kissed when
poor Paulo was out of pocket. No, Sir, Prior is a lady's book. No
lady is ashamed to have it standing in her library.'

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

Dr. Johnson advised me to-day, to have as many books about me as I
could; that I might read upon any subject upon which I had a desire
for instruction at the time. 'What you read THEN (said he,) you
will remember; but if you have not a book immediately ready, and
the subject moulds in your mind, it is a chance if you again have a
desire to study it.'  He added, 'If a man never has an eager desire
for instruction, he should prescribe a task for himself. But it is
better when a man reads from 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 compiled from Bacon's writings alone, and that he
had once an intention of giving an edition of Bacon, at least of
his English works, and writing the Life of that great man. Had he
executed this intention, there can be no doubt that he would have
done it in a most masterly manner.

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 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 particular instance, and
certainly not to his kindness to me. If a profuse man, who does
not value his money, and gives a large sum to a whore, gives half
as much, or an equally large sum to relieve a friend, it cannot be
esteemed as virtue. This was all that I could say of that
gentleman; and, if said at all, it must have been said after his
death. Sir, I would have gone to the world's end to relieve him.
The remark about the dog, if made by me, was such a sally as might
escape one when painting a man highly.'

On Tuesday, September 23, Johnson was remarkably cordial to me. It
being necessary for me to return to Scotland soon, I had fixed on
the next day for my setting out, and I felt a tender concern at the
thought of parting with him. He had, at this time, frankly
communicated to me many particulars, which are inserted in this
work in their proper places; and once, when I happened to 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 pronounced herd,
there would be a single exception from the English pronunciation of
the syllable ear, and he thought it better not to have that
exception.

In the evening our gentleman-farmer, and two others, entertained
themselves and the company with a great number of tunes on the
fiddle. Johnson desired to have 'Let ambition fire thy mind,'
played over again, and appeared to give a patient attention to it;
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 composition were
played with no great skill, my frame was agitated, and I was
conscious of a generous attachment to Dr. Johnson, as my preceptor
and friend, mixed with an affectionate regret that he was an old
man, whom I should probably lose in a short time. I thought I
could defend him at the point of my sword. My reverence and
affection for him were in full glow. I said to him, 'My dear Sir,
we must meet every year, if you don't quarrel with me.'  JOHNSON.
'Nay, Sir, you are more likely to quarrel with me, than I with you.
My regard for you is greater almost than I have words to express;
but I do not choose to be always repeating it; 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 Ranelagh, it gave an expansion and gay sensation to
my mind, such as I never experienced any where else. But, as
Xerxes wept when he viewed his immense army, and considered that
not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred years
afterwards, so it went to my heart to consider that there was not
one in all that brilliant circle, that was not afraid to go home
and think; but that the thoughts of each individual there, would be
distressing when alone.'

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 ourselves in Dr.
Taylor's garden, at a pretty late hour in a serene autumn night,
looking up to the heavens, I directed the discourse to the subject
of a future state. My friend was in a placid and most benignant
frame. 'Sir, (said he,) I do not imagine that all things will be
made clear to us immediately after death, but that the ways of
Providence will be explained to us very gradually.'  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 knowledge.'  Upon one occasion, when in company with
some very grave men at Oxford, his toast was, 'Here's to the next
insurrection of the negroes in the West Indies.'  His violent
prejudice against our West Indian and American settlers appeared
whenever there was an opportunity. Towards the conclusion of his
Taxation no Tyranny, he says, 'how is it that we hear the loudest
YELPS for liberty among the drivers of negroes?'

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

Had I been as attentive not to displease him as I ought to have
been, I know not but this vigil might have been fulfilled; but I
unluckily entered upon the controversy concerning the right of
Great-Britain to tax America, and attempted to argue in favour of
our fellow-subjects on the other side of the Atlantick. I insisted
that America might be very well governed, and made to yield
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 repented of my having unthinkingly introduced the
subject. I myself, however, grew warm, and the change was great,
from the calm state of philosophical discussion in which we had a
little before been pleasingly employed.

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

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

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

After breakfast I departed, and 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 exceedingly
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 magnificence of which I had gone
a considerable way out of my road to Scotland. The inn was then
kept by a very jolly landlord, whose name, I think, was Malton. He
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. 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.

* 1778.

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

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

We retired from Mrs. Williams to another room. Tom Davies soon
after joined us. He had now unfortunately failed in his
circumstances, and was much indebted to Dr. Johnson's kindness for
obtaining for him many 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 it
was owing to Churchill's attack upon him,

    'He mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone.'

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

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

He was indeed so much impressed with the prevalence of falsehood,
voluntary or unintentional, that I never knew any person who upon
hearing an extraordinary circumstance told, discovered more of the
incredulus odi. He would say, with a significant look and decisive
tone, 'It is not so. Do not tell this again.'  He inculcated upon
all his friends the importance of perpetual vigilance against the
slightest degrees of falsehood; the effect of which, as Sir Joshua
Reynolds observed to me, has been, that all who were of his SCHOOL
are distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy, which they
would not have possessed in the same degree, if they had not been
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* where
were present several eminent men, whom I shall not name, but
distinguish their parts in the conversation by different letters.

* The Club. Hill identifies E. as Burke and J. as Sir Joshua
Reynolds.--ED.

E. 'We hear prodigious complaints at present of emigration. I am
convinced that emigration makes a country more populous.'  J.
'That sounds very much like a paradox.'  E. 'Exportation of men,
like exportation of all other commodities, makes more be produced.'
JOHNSON. 'But there would be more people were there not
emigration, provided there were food for more.'  E. 'No; leave a
few breeders, and you'll have more people than if there were no
emigration.'  JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is plain there will be more
people, if there are more breeders. Thirty cows in good pasture
will produce more calves than ten cows, provided they have good
bulls.'  E. 'There are bulls enough in Ireland.'  JOHNSON.
(smiling,) 'So, Sir, I should think from your argument.'

E. 'I believe, in any body of men in England, I should have been
in the Minority; I have always been in the Minority.'  P. 'The
House of Commons resembles a private company. How seldom is any
man convinced by another's argument; passion and pride rise against
it.'  R. 'What would be the consequence, if a Minister, sure of a
majority in the House of Commons, should resolve that there should
be no speaking at all upon his side.'  E. 'He must soon go out.
That has been tried; but it was found it would not do.' . . . .

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 themselves,
and ward off immediate evils which press upon them, it is wonderful
how much they do for others. As it is said of the greatest liar,
that he tells more truth than falsehood; so it may be said of the
worst man, that he does more good than evil.'  BOSWELL. 'Perhaps
from experience men may be found HAPPIER than we suppose.'
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; the more we enquire, we shall find men the less
happy.'

E. 'I understand the hogshead of claret, which this society was
favoured with by our friend the Dean, is nearly out; I think he
should be written to, to send another of the same kind. Let the
request be made with a happy ambiguity of expression, so that we
may have the chance of his sending IT also as a present.'  JOHNSON.
'I am willing to offer my services as 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 disinterested, as I drink none; I shall
not be suspected of having forged the application. I am no more
than humble SCRIBE.'  E. 'Then you shall PREscribe.'  BOSWELL.
'Very well. The first play of words to-day.'  J. 'No, no; the
BULLS in Ireland.'  JOHNSON. 'Were I your Dictator you should have
no wine. It would be my business cavere ne quid detrimenti
Respublica caperet, and wine is dangerous. Rome was ruined by
luxury,' (smiling.)  E. 'If you allow no wine as Dictator, you
shall not have me for your master of horse.'

On Saturday, April 4, I drank tea with Johnson at Dr. Taylor's,
where he had dined.

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

He talked of going to Streatham that night. TAYLOR. 'You'll be
robbed if you do: or you must shoot a highwayman. Now I would
rather be robbed than do that; I would not shoot a highwayman.'
JOHNSON. 'But I would rather shoot him in the instant when he is
attempting to rob me, than afterwards swear against him at the Old-
Bailey, to take away his life, after he has robbed me. I am surer
I am right in the one case than in the other. I may be mistaken as
to the man, when I swear: I cannot be mistaken, if I shoot him in
the act. Besides, we feel less reluctance to take away a man's
life, when we are heated by the injury, than to do it at a distance
of time by an oath, after we have cooled.'  BOSWELL. 'So, Sir, you
would rather act from the motive of private passion, than that of
publick advantage.'  JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, when I shoot the
highwayman I act from both.'  BOSWELL. 'Very well, very well--
There is no catching him.'  JOHNSON. 'At the same time one does
not know what to say. For perhaps one may, a year after, hang
himself from uneasiness for having shot a man. 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 respectable person in
Scotland whom he knew; and I asserted, that I really believed he
was always content. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, he is not content with the
present; he has always some new scheme, some new plantation,
something which is future. You know he was not content as a
widower; for he married again.'  BOSWELL. 'But he is not
restless.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, he is only locally at rest. A chymist
is locally at rest; but his mind is hard at work. This gentleman
has done with external exertions. It is too late for him to engage
in distant projects.'  BOSWELL. 'He seems to amuse himself quite
well; to have his attention fixed, and his tranquillity preserved
by very small matters. I have tried this; but it would not do with
me.'  JOHNSON. (laughing,) 'No, Sir; it must be born with a man to
be contented to take up with little things. Women have a great
advantage that they may take up with little things, without
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 instrument? I
should have liked to hear you play on the violoncello. THAT should
have been YOUR instrument.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, I might as well have
played on the violoncello as another; but I should have done
nothing else. No, Sir; a man would never undertake great things,
could he be amused with small. I once tried knotting. Dempster's
sister undertook to teach me; but I could not learn it.'  BOSWELL.
'So, Sir; it will be related in pompous narrative, "Once for his
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 merchant's clerk now to
write, and he'll do better.'

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

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

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 diminution of pleasure, to be sure; but I do not say a
diminution of happiness. There is more happiness in being
rational.'  BOSWELL. 'But if we could have pleasure always, should
not we be happy? The greatest part of men would compound for
pleasure.'  JOHNSON. 'Supposing we could have pleasure always, an
intellectual man would not compound for it. The greatest part of
men would compound, because the greatest part of men are gross.'

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

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

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

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

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. 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.'  JOHNSON. 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
subject; so he talked always at random. It seemed to be his
intention to blurt out whatever was in his mind, and see what would
become of it. He was angry too, when catched in an absurdity; but
it did not prevent him from falling into another the next minute.
I remember Chamier, after talking with him for some time, said,
"Well, I do believe he wrote this poem himself: and, let me tell
you, that is believing a great deal."  Chamier once asked him, what
he meant by slow, the last word in the first line of The Traveller,

    "Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow."

Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? Goldsmith, who would say
something without consideration, answered, "Yes."  I was sitting
by, and said, "No, Sir; you do not mean tardiness of locomotion;
you mean, that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in
solitude."  Chamier believed then that I had written the line as
much as if he had seen me write it. Goldsmith, however, was a man,
who, whatever he wrote, did it better than any other man could do.
He deserved a place in Westminster-Abbey, and every year he lived,
would have deserved it better. He had, indeed, been at no pains to
fill his mind with knowledge. He transplanted it from one place to
another; and it did not settle in his mind; so he could not tell
what was in his own books.'

We talked of living in the country. JOHNSON. 'No wise man will go
to live in the country, unless he has something to do which can be
better done in the country. For instance: if he is to shut himself
up for a year to study a science, it is better to look out to the
fields, than to an opposite wall. Then, if a man walks out in the
country, there is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if
a man walks out in London, he is not sure when he shall walk in
again. A great city is, to be sure, the school for studying life;
and "The proper study of mankind is man," as Pope observes.'
BOSWELL. '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 [Greek text omitted].'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, my
Lord.'

This season there was a whimsical fashion in the newspapers 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.
Somebody said to Johnson, across the table, that he had not been in
those characters. 'Yes (said he,) I have. I should have been
sorry to be left out.'  He then repeated what had been applied to
him,

    'I must borrow GARAGANTUA'S mouth.'

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 indication that he did not wish it to be kept up.

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

After wandering about in a kind of pleasing distraction for some
time, I got into a corner, with Johnson, Garrick, and Harris.
GARRICK. (to Harris,) 'Pray, Sir, have you read Potter's
Aeschylus?'  HARRIS. 'Yes; and think it pretty.'  GARRICK. (to
Johnson,) 'And what think you, Sir, of it?'  JOHNSON. 'I thought
what I read of it VERBIAGE: but upon Mr. Harris's recommendation, I
will read a play. (To Mr. Harris,) Don't 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 people
who cannot read the original.'  I mentioned the vulgar saying, that
Pope's Homer was not a good representation of the original.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is the greatest work of the kind that has ever
been produced.'  BOSWELL. 'The truth is, it is impossible
perfectly to translate poetry. In a different language it may be
the same tune, but it has not the same tone. Homer plays it on a
bassoon; Pope on a flagelet.'  HARRIS. 'I think Heroick poetry is
best in blank verse; yet it appears that rhyme is essential to
English poetry, from our deficiency in metrical quantities. In my
opinion, the chief excellence of our language is numerous prose.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir William Temple was the first writer who gave cadence
to English prose. Before his time they were careless of
arrangement, and did not mind whether a sentence ended with an
important word or an insignificant word, or with what part of
speech it was concluded.'

GARRICK. 'Of all the translations that ever were attempted, I
think Elphinston's Martial the most extraordinary. He consulted me
upon it, who am a little of an epigrammatist myself, you know. I
told him freely, "You don't seem to have that turn."  I asked him
if he was serious; and finding he was, I advised him against
publishing. Why, his translation is more difficult to understand
than the original. I thought him a man of some talents; but he
seems crazy in this.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have done what I had not
courage to do. But he did not ask my advice, and I did not force
it upon him, to make him angry with me.'  GARRICK. 'But as a
friend, Sir--.'  JOHNSON. 'Why, such a friend as I am with him--
no.'  GARRICK. 'But if you see a friend going to tumble over a
precipice?'  JOHNSON. 'That is an extravagant case, Sir. You are
sure a friend will thank you for hindering him from tumbling over a
precipice; 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 Epigram? Is not he rather an
OBTUSE man, eh?'  JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, he may not be a judge of an
Epigram: but you see he is a judge of what is not an Epigram.'
BOSWELL. 'It is easy for you, Mr. Garrick, to talk to an authour
as you talked to Elphinston; you, who have been so long the manager
of a theatre, rejecting the plays of poor authours. You are an old
Judge, who have often pronounced sentence of death. You are a
practiced surgeon, who have often amputated limbs; and though this
may have been for the good of your patients, they cannot like you.
Those who have 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 concoction of a play?'  (Here Garrick started, and
twisted himself, and seemed sorely vexed; for Johnson told me, he
believed the story was true.)  GARRICK. 'I--I--I--said FIRST
concoction.'  JOHNSON. (smiling,) 'Well, he left out FIRST. And
Rich, he said, refused him IN FALSE ENGLISH: he could shew it under
his hand.'  GARRICK. 'He wrote to me in violent wrath, for having
refused his play: "Sir, this is growing a very serious and terrible
affair. I am resolved to publish my play. I will appeal to the
world; and how will your judgement appear?"  I answered, "Sir,
notwithstanding all the seriousness, and all the terrours, I have
no objection to your publishing your play; and as you live at a
great distance, (Devonshire, I believe,) if you will send 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 to produce irritation
or violence. There was no bold offender. There was not one
capital conviction. It was a maiden assize. You had on your white
gloves.'

He found fault with our friend Langton for having been too silent.
'Sir, (said I,) you will recollect, that he very properly took up
Sir Joshua for being glad that Charles Fox had praised Goldsmith's
Traveller, and you joined him.'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I knocked Fox
on the head, without 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 recollect, and he will
be sensible how small a part of his time is employed in talking or
thinking of Shakspeare, Voltaire, or any of the most celebrated men
that have ever lived, or are now supposed to occupy the attention
and admiration of the world. Let this be extracted and compressed;
into what a narrow space will it go!'  I then slily introduced Mr.
Garrick's fame, and his assuming the airs of a great man. JOHNSON.
'Sir, it is wonderful how LITTLE Garrick assumes. No, Sir, Garrick
fortunam reverenter habet. Consider, Sir: celebrated men, such as
you have mentioned, have had their applause at a distance; but
Garrick had it dashed in his face, sounded in his ears, and went
home every night with the plaudits of a thousand in his CRANIUM.
Then, Sir, Garrick did not FIND, but MADE his way to the tables,
the levees, and almost the bed-chambers of the great. Then, Sir,
Garrick had under him a numerous body of people; who, from fear of
his power, and hopes of his favour, and admiration of his talents,
were constantly submissive to him. And here is a man who has
advanced the dignity of his profession. Garrick has made a player
a higher character.'  SCOTT. 'And he is a very sprightly writer
too.'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and all this supported by great wealth
of his own acquisition. If all this had happened to me, I should
have had a couple of fellows with long poles walking before me, to
knock down every body that stood in the way. Consider, if all this
had happened to Cibber or Quin, they'd have jumped over the moon--
Yet Garrick speaks to US.' (smiling.)  BOSWELL. 'And Garrick is a
very good man, a charitable man.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, a liberal man.
He has given away more money than any man in England. There may be
a little vanity mixed; but he has shewn, that money is not his
first object.'  BOSWELL. 'Yet Foote used to say of him, that he
walked out with an intention to do a generous action; but, turning
the corner of a street, he met with the ghost of a 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.'
JOHNSON. 'With his domestick saving we have nothing to do. I
remember drinking tea with him long ago, when Peg Woffington made
it, and he grumbled at her for making it too strong.*  He had then
begun to feel money in his purse, and did not know when he should
have enough of it.'

* When Johnson told this little anecdote to Sir Joshua Reynolds, he
mentioned a circumstance which he omitted to-day:--'Why, (said
Garrick,) it is as red as blood.'--BOSWELL.

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 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 saying 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 incautiously offended him, by
pressing him with too many questions, and he shewed his
displeasure. I apologised, saying that 'I asked questions in order
to be instructed and entertained; I repaired eagerly to the
fountain; but that the moment he gave me a hint, the moment he put
a lock upon the well, I desisted.'--'But, Sir, (said he), that is
forcing one to do a disagreeable thing:' and he continued to rate
me. 'Nay, Sir, (said I,) when you have 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 visiting the wall
of China. I catched it for the moment, and said I really believed
I should go and see the wall of China had I not children, of whom
it was my duty to take care. 'Sir, (said he,) by doing so, you
would do what would be of importance in raising your children to
eminence. There would be a lustre reflected upon them from your
spirit and curiosity. They would be at all times regarded as the
children of a man who had gone to view the wall of China. I am
serious, Sir.'

When we had left Mr. Scott's, he said 'Will you go home with me?'
'Sir, (said I,) it is late; but I'll go with you for three
minutes.'  JOHNSON. 'Or four.'  We went to Mrs. Williams's room,
where we found Mr. Allen the printer, who was the landlord of his
house in Bolt-court, a worthy, obliging man, and his very old
acquaintance; and what was exceedingly amusing, though he was of a
very diminutive size, he used, even in Johnson's presence, to
imitate the stately periods and slow and solemn utterance of the
great man.--I this evening boasted, that although I did not write
what is called stenography, or short-hand, in appropriated
characters devised for the purpose, I had a method of my own of
writing half words, and leaving out some altogether so as yet to
keep the substance and language of any discourse which I had heard
so much in view, that I could give it very completely 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 Reverend 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 reconciled, 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 dutiful attachment to the noble House
of Northumberland, could not sit quietly and hear a man praised,
who had spoken disrespectfully of Alnwick-Castle and the Duke's
pleasure grounds, especially as he thought meanly of his travels.
He therefore opposed Johnson eagerly. JOHNSON. 'Pennant in what
he has said of Alnwick, has done what he intended; he has made you
very angry.'  PERCY. 'He has said the garden is TRIM, which is
representing it like a citizen's parterre, when the truth is, there
is a very large extent of fine turf and gravel walks.'  JOHNSON.
'According to your own 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
Islington.'  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. 'I travelled
after him.'  JOHNSON. 'And I 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 disparagement of Pennant. JOHNSON. (pointedly,) 'This is the
resentment of a narrow mind, because he did not find every thing in
Northumberland.'  PERCY. (feeling the stroke,) 'Sir, you may be as
rude as you please.'  JOHNSON. 'Hold, Sir! Don't talk of
rudeness; remember, Sir, you told me (puffing hard with passion
struggling for a vent,) I was shortsighted. We have done with
civility. We are to be as rude as we please.'  PERCY. 'Upon my
honour, Sir, I did not mean to be uncivil.'  JOHNSON. 'I cannot
say so, Sir; for I DID mean to be uncivil, thinking YOU had been
uncivil.'  Dr. Percy rose, ran up to him, and taking him by the
hand, assured him affectionately that his meaning had been
misunderstood; upon which a reconciliation instantly took place.
JOHNSON. 'My dear Sir, I am willing you shall HANG Pennant.'
PERCY. (resuming the former subject,) 'Pennant complains that the
helmet is not hung out to invite to the hall of hospitality. Now I
never heard that it was a custom to 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. Langton'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 afterwards, that he could repeat Johnson's
conversation before dinner, as Johnson had said that he could
repeat a complete chapter of The Natural History of Iceland, from
the Danish of Horrebow, the whole of which was exactly thus:--

'CHAP. LXXII. Concerning snakes.

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

Dr. Johnson, who, as I have observed before, delighted in
discrimination of character, and having a masterly knowledge of
human nature, was willing to take men as they are, imperfect and
with a mixture of good and bad qualities, I suppose though 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.

At Mr. Dilly'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 tablecloth 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 introduced at a
table where Johnson, who boasted of the niceness of his palate,
owned that 'he always found a good dinner,' he said, 'I could write
a better book of cookery than has ever yet been written; it should
be a book upon 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 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 indiscriminately. If a woman
has no inclination to do what is wrong being secured from it is no
restraint to her. I am at liberty to walk into the Thames; but if
I were to try it, my friends would restrain me in Bedlam, and I
should be obliged to them.'  MRS. KNOWLES. 'Still, Doctor, I
cannot help thinking it a hardship that more indulgence is allowed
to men than to women. It gives a superiority to men, to which I do
not see how they are entitled.'  JOHNSON. 'It is plain, Madam, one
or other must have the superiority. As Shakspeare says, "If two
men ride on a horse, one must ride behind."'  DILLY. 'I suppose,
Sir, Mrs. Knowles would have them to ride in panniers, one on each
side.'  JOHNSON. 'Then, Sir, the horse would throw them both.'
MRS. KNOWLES. 'Well, I hope that in another world the sexes will
be equal.'  BOSWELL. 'That is being too ambitious, Madam. WE
might as well desire to be equal with the angels. We shall all, I
hope, be happy in a future state, but we must not expect to be all
happy in the same degree. It is enough if we be happy according to
our several capacities. A worthy carman will get to heaven as well
as Sir Isaac Newton. Yet, though equally good, they will not have
the same 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 Religion;--JOHNSON. 'I
think it a pretty book; not very theological indeed; and there
seems to be an affectation of ease and carelessness, as if it were
not suitable to his character to be very serious about the matter.'
BOSWELL. 'He may have intended this to 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
friendship is not a Christian virtue.'  JOHNSON. 'Why, Madam,
strictly speaking, he is right. All friendship is preferring the
interest of a friend, to the neglect, or, perhaps, against the
interest of others; so that an old Greek said, "He that has FRIENDS
has NO FRIEND."  Now Christianity recommends universal benevolence,
to consider all men as our brethren, which is contrary to the
virtue of friendship, as described by the ancient philosophers.
Surely, Madam, your sect must approve of this; for, you call all
men FRIENDS.'  MRS. KNOWLES. 'We are commanded to do good to all
men, "but especially to them who are of the household of Faith."'
JOHNSON. 'Well, Madam. The household of Faith is wide enough.'
MRS. KNOWLES. 'But, Doctor, our Saviour had twelve Apostles, yet
there was ONE whom he LOVED. John was called "the disciple whom
JESUS loved."'  JOHNSON. (with eyes sparkling benignantly,) 'Very
well, indeed, Madam. You have said very well.'  BOSWELL. 'A fine
application. Pray, Sir, had you ever thought of it?'  JOHNSON. 'I
had not, Sir.'

From this 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 bursting into horrid fire, he
'breathed out threatenings and slaughter;' calling them, Rascals--
Robbers--Pirates;' and exclaiming, he'd 'burn and destroy them.'
Miss Seward, looking to him with mild but steady astonishment,
said, 'Sir, this is an instance that we are always most violent
against those whom we have injured.'  He was irritated still more
by this delicate and keen reproach; and roared out another
tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be heard across the
Atlantick. During this tempest I sat in great uneasiness,
lamenting his heat of temper; till, by degrees, I diverted his
attention to other topicks.

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

Somebody mentioned the Reverend Mr. Mason's prosecution of Mr.
Murray, the bookseller, for having inserted in a collection of
Gray's Poems, only fifty lines, of which Mr. Mason had still the
exclusive property, under the statute of Queen Anne; and that Mr.
Mason had persevered, notwithstanding his being requested to name
his own terms of compensation. 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 examine the girl. It
was at Newcastle, where the ghost was said to have appeared to a
young woman several times, mentioning something about the right to
an old house, advising application to be made to an attorney, which
was done; and, at the same time, saying the 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 vehemence,) 'Yes, Madam: this is a question which,
after five thousand years, is yet undecided; a question, whether in
theology or philosophy, one of the most important that can come
before the human understanding.'

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

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

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

I expressed some inclination to publish an account of my Travels
upon the continent of Europe, for which I had a variety of
materials collected. JOHNSON. 'I do not say, Sir, you may not
publish your travels; but I give you my opinion, that you would
lessen yourself by it. What can you tell of countries so well
known as those upon the continent of Europe, which you have
visited?'  BOSWELL. 'But I can give an entertaining narrative,
with 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 account of my travels in France.
The reason is plain; intelligent readers had seen more of France
than I had. YOU might have liked my travels in France, and THE
CLUB might have liked them; but, upon the whole, there would have
been more ridicule than good produced by them.'  BOSWELL. 'I
cannot agree with you, Sir. People would like to read what you say
of any thing. Suppose a face has been painted by fifty painters
before; still we love to see it done by Sir Joshua.'  JOHNSON.
'True, Sir, but Sir Joshua cannot paint a face when he has not time
to look on it.'  BOSWELL. 'Sir, a sketch of any sort by him is
valuable. And, Sir, to talk to you in your own style (raising my
voice, and shaking my head,) you SHOULD have given us your travels
in France. I am SURE I am right, and THERE'S AN END ON'T.'

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

It was a delightful day: as we walked to St. Clement's church, I
again remarked that Fleet-street was the most cheerful scene in the
world. 'Fleet-street (said I,) is in my mind more delightful than
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-collegian, who had not seen me
since 1729. He knew me, and asked if I remembered one Edwards; I
did not at first recollect the name, but gradually as we walked
along, recovered it, and told him a conversation that had passed at
an ale-house between us. My purpose is to continue our
acquaintance.'

It was in Butcher-row that this meeting happened. Mr. Edwards, who
was a decent-looking elderly man in grey clothes, and a wig of many
curls, accosted Johnson with familiar confidence, knowing who he
was, while Johnson returned his salutation with a courteous
formality, as to a stranger. But as soon as Edwards had brought to
his recollection their having been at Pembroke-College together
nine-and-forty years ago, he seemed much pleased, asked where he
lived, and said he should be glad to see him in Bolt-court.
EDWARDS. 'Ah, Sir! we are old men now.'  JOHNSON. (who never
liked to think of being old,) 'Don't let us discourage one
another.'  EDWARDS. 'Why, Doctor, you look stout and hearty, I am
happy to see you so; for the 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 conversation 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
growing. Now, for instance, I am curious to see if this frost has
not nipped my fruit-trees.'  JOHNSON. (who we did not imagine was
attending,) 'You find, Sir, you have fears as well as hopes.'--So
well did he see the whole, when another saw but the half of a
subject.

When we got to Dr. Johnson's house, and were seated in his library,
the dialogue went on admirably. EDWARDS. 'Sir, I remember you
would not let us say PRODIGIOUS at College. For even then, Sir,
(turning to me,) he was delicate in language, and we all feared
him.'*  JOHNSON. (to Edwards,) 'From your having practised the law
long, Sir, I presume you must be rich.'  EDWARDS. 'No, Sir; I got
a good deal of money; but I had a number of poor relations to whom
I gave a great part of it.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, you have been rich in
the most valuable sense of the word.'  EDWARDS. 'But I shall not
die rich.'  JOHNSON. 'Nay, sure, Sir, it is better to LIVE rich
than to DIE rich.'  EDWARDS. 'I wish I had continued at College.'
JOHNSON. 'Why do you wish that, Sir?'  EDWARDS. 'Because I think
I should have had a much easier life than mine has been. I should
have been a parson, and had a good living, like Bloxam and several
others, and lived comfortably.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, the life of a
parson, of a conscientious clergyman, is not easy. I have always
considered a clergyman as the father of a larger family than he is
able to maintain. I would rather have Chancery suits upon my hands
than the cure of souls. No, Sir, I do not envy a clergyman's life
as an easy life, nor do I envy the clergyman who makes it an easy
life.'  Here taking himself up all of a sudden, he exclaimed, 'O!
Mr. Edwards! I'll convince you that I recollect you. Do you
remember our drinking together at an alehouse near Pembroke gate?
At that time, you told me of the Eton boy, who, when verses on our
SAVIOUR'S turning water into wine were prescribed as an exercise,
brought up a single line, which was highly admired,--

    "Vidit et erubuit lympha pudica DEUM,"

and I told you of another fine line in Camden's Remains, an eulogy
upon one of our Kings, who was succeeded by his son, a prince of
equal merit:--

    "Mira cano, Sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta est."'

* Johnson said to me afterwards, 'Sir, they respected me for my
literature: and yet it was not great but by comparison. Sir, it is
amazing how little literature there is in the world.'--BOSWELL

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,
faultering tone) I have known what it was to LOSE A WIFE.--It had
almost broke my heart.'

EDWARDS. 'How do you live, Sir? For my part, I must have my
regular meals, and a glass of good wine. I find I require it.'
JOHNSON. 'I now drink no wine, Sir. Early in life I drank wine:
for many years I drank none. I then for some years drank a great
deal.'  EDWARDS. 'Some 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 difference; but I
am not one of them. And as to regular meals, I have fasted from
the Sunday's dinner to the Tuesday's dinner, without any
inconvenience. I believe it is best to eat just as one is hungry:
but a man who is in business, or a man who has a family, must have
stated meals. I am a straggler. I may leave this town and go to
Grand Cairo, without being missed here or observed there.'
EDWARDS. 'Don't you eat supper, Sir?'  JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.'
EDWARDS. 'For my part, now, I consider supper as a turnpike
through which one must pass, in order to get to bed.'

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.'  EDWARDS. 'I am grown old: I am
sixty-five.'  JOHNSON. 'I shall be sixty-eight next birth-day.
Come, Sir, drink water, and put in for a hundred.'

This interview confirmed my opinion of Johnson's most humane and
benevolent heart. His cordial and placid behaviour to an old
fellow-collegian, a man so different from himself; and his telling
him that he would go down to his farm and visit him, 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
consciousness of senility, and looking full in Johnson's face, said
to him, 'You'll find in Dr. Young,

    "O my coevals! remnants of yourselves."'

Johnson did not relish this at all; but shook his head with
impatience. Edwards walked off, seemingly highly pleased with the
honour of having been thus noticed by Dr. Johnson. When he was
gone, I said to Johnson, I thought him but a weak man. JOHNSON.
'Why, yes, Sir. Here is a man who has passed through life without
experience: yet I would rather have him with me than a more
sensible man who will not talk readily. This man is always willing
to say what he has to say.'  Yet Dr. Johnson had himself by no
means that willingness which he praised so much, and I think so
justly; for who has not felt the painful effect of the dreary void,
when there is a total silence in a company, for any length of time;
or, which is as bad, or perhaps worse, when the conversation is
with difficulty kept up by a perpetual effort?

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

The gentleman whom he thus familiarly mentioned was Mr. Thomas
Tyers, son of Mr. Jonathan Tyers, the founder of that excellent
place of publick amusement, Vauxhall Gardens, which must ever be an
estate to its proprietor, as it is peculiarly adapted to the taste
of the English nation; there being a mixture of curious show,--gay
exhibition, musick, vocal and instrumental, not too refined for the
general ear;--for all which only a shilling is paid; and, though
last, not least, good eating and drinking for those who choose to
purchase that regale. Mr. Thomas Tyers was bred to the law; but
having a handsome fortune, vivacity of temper, and eccentricity of
mind, he could not confine himself to the regularity of practice.
He therefore ran about the world with a pleasant carelessness,
amusing 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 chiefly rest
upon his Political Conferences, in which he introduces several
eminent persons delivering their sentiments in the way of dialogue,
and discovers a considerable share of learning, various knowledge,
and discernment of character. This much may I be allowed to say of
a man who was exceedingly obliging to me, and who lived with Dr.
Johnson in as easy a manner as almost any of his very numerous
acquaintance.

Mr. Edwards had said to me aside, that Dr. Johnson should have been
of a profession. I repeated the remark to Johnson that I might
have his own thoughts on the subject. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it WOULD
have been better that I had been of a profession. I ought to have
been a lawyer.'  BOSWELL. 'I do not think, Sir, it would have been
better, for we should not have had the English Dictionary.'
JOHNSON. 'But you would have had Reports.'  BOSWELL. 'Ay; but
there would not have been another, who could have written the
Dictionary. There have been many very good Judges. Suppose you
had been Lord Chancellor; you would have delivered opinions with
more extent of mind, and in a more ornamented manner, than perhaps
any Chancellor ever did, or ever will do. But, I believe, causes
have been as 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 possibility of his
supereminent powers being rewarded in this great and liberal
country by the highest honours of the state. Sir William Scott
informs me, that upon the death of the late Lord Lichfield, who was
Chancellor of the University of Oxford, he said to Johnson, 'What a
pity it is, Sir, that you did not follow the profession of the law.
You might have been Lord Chancellor of Great Britain, and attained
to the dignity of the peerage; and now that the title of Lichfleld,
your native city, is extinct, you might have had it.'  Johnson,
upon this, seemed much agitated; and, in an angry tone, exclaimed,
'Why will you vex me by suggesting this, when it is too late?'

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

* 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.

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

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

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

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

Sir Joshua Reynolds 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 affecting 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.'  BOSWELL. 'True, Sir: we may carry our books in our heads;
but still there is something painful in the thought of leaving for
ever what has given us pleasure. I remember, many years ago, when
my imagination was warm, and I happened to be in a melancholy mood,
it distressed me to think of going into a state of being in which
Shakspeare's poetry did not exist. A lady whom I then much
admired, a very amiable woman, humoured my fancy, and relieved me
by saying, "The first thing you will meet in the other world, will
be an elegant copy of Shakspeare's works presented to you."'  Dr.
Johnson smiled benignantly at this, and did not appear to
disapprove of the notion.

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

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.
'Richardson?'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. But I sought after George
Psalmanazar the most. I used to go and sit with him at an alehouse
in the city.'

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

Talking of a recent seditious delinquent, he said, 'They should set
him in the pillory, that he may be punished in a way that would
disgrace him.'  I observed, that the pillory does not always
disgrace. And I mentioned an instance of a gentleman who I thought
was not dishonoured by it. JOHNSON. '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 vehemence 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 sulphureous vapour, which was afterwards to burst in thunder.--
We talked of a gentleman who was running out his fortune in
London; and I said, 'We must get him out of it. All his friends
must quarrel with him, and that will soon drive him away.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; we'll send YOU to him. If your company does
not drive a man out of his house, nothing will.'  This was a
horrible shock, for which there was no visible cause. I afterwards
asked him why he had said so harsh a thing. JOHNSON. Because,
Sir, you made me angry about the Americans.'  BOSWELL. 'But why
did you not take your revenge directly?'  JOHNSON. (smiling,)
'Because, Sir, I had nothing ready. A man cannot strike till he
has his weapons.'  This was a candid and pleasant confession.

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

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

On Monday, April 20, I found him at home in the morning. We talked
of a gentleman who we apprehended was gradually involving his
circumstances by bad management. JOHNSON. 'Wasting a fortune is
evaporation by a thousand imperceptible means. If it 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 company with him, and all
he said during the whole time was no more than Richard. How a man
should say only Richard, it is not easy to imagine. But it was
thus: Dr. Douglas was talking of Dr. Zachary Grey, and ascribing to
him something that was written by Dr. Richard Grey. So, to correct
him, Taylor said, (imitating his affected sententious emphasis and
nod,) "RICHARD."'

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

We talked of a lady's verses on Ireland. MISS REYNOLDS. 'Have you
seen them, Sir?'  JOHNSON. 'No, Madam. I have seen a translation
from Horace, by one of her daughters. She shewed it me.'  MISS
REYNOLDS. 'And how was it, Sir?'  JOHNSON. 'Why, very well for a
young Miss's 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 shown them. You must consider, Madam;
beforehand they may be bad, as well as good. Nobody has a right to
put another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt the
person by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is not
true.'  BOSWELL. 'A man often shews his writings to people of
eminence, to obtain from them, either from their good-nature, or
from their not being able to tell the truth firmly, a commendation,
of which he may afterwards avail himself.'  JOHNSON. 'Very true,
Sir. Therefore 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 Reynolds, or
Musgrave, or some other good judge, commended the work."  Yet I
consider it as a very difficult question in conscience, whether one
should advise a man not to publish a work, if profit be his object;
for the man may say, "Had it not been for you, I should have had
the money."  Now you cannot be sure; for you have only your own
opinion, and the publick may think very differently.'  SIR JOSHUA
REYNOLDS. 'You must upon such an occasion have two judgements; one
as to the real value of the work, the other as to what may please
the general taste at the time.'  JOHNSON. 'But you can be SURE of
neither; and therefore I should scruple much to give a suppressive
vote. Both Goldsmith's comedies were once refused; his first by
Garrick, his second by Colman, who was prevailed on at last by much
solicitation, nay, a kind of force, to bring it on. His Vicar of
Wakefield I myself did not think would have had much success. It
was written and sold to a bookseller before his Traveller; but
published after; so little expectation had the bookseller from it.
Had it been sold after the Traveller he might have had twice as
much money for it, though sixty guineas was no mean price. The
bookseller had the advantage of Goldsmith's reputation from The
Traveller in the sale, though 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.'  JOHNSON. 'It was
refused by one of the houses; but I should have thought it would
succeed, not from any great excellence in the writing, but from the
novelty, and the general spirit and gaiety of the piece, which
keeps the audience always attentive, and dismisses them in good
humour.'

We went to the drawing-room, where was a considerable increase of
company. Several of us got round Dr. Johnson, and complained that
he would not give us an exact catalogue of his works, that there
might be a complete edition. He smiled, and evaded our entreaties.
That he 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 positively to own
or refuse; and then, having obtained certainty so far, I got some
other articles confirmed by him directly; and afterwards, from time
to time, made additions under his sanction.

The conversation having turned on Bon-Mots, be 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
     Lege solutus,'

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 conceits; which was, that
'Horace has in one line given a description of a good desirable
manour:--

    "Est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines;"

that is to say, a modus as to the tithes and certain fines.'

He observed, 'A man cannot with propriety speak of himself, except
he relates simple facts; as, "I was at Richmond:" or what depends
on 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 entertained in
elegant hospitality, and with all the ease and comfort of a home.
I called on him, and accompanied him in a hackney-coach. We
stopped first at the bottom of Hedgelane, into which he went to
leave a letter, 'with good news for a poor man in distress,' as he
told me. I did not question him particularly as to this. He
himself often resembled Lady Bolingbroke's Lively description of
Pope; that 'he was un politique aux choux et aux raves.'  He would
say, 'I dine to-day in Grosvenor-square;' this might be with a
Duke: or, perhaps, 'I dine to-day at the other end of the town:'
or, 'A gentleman of great eminence called on me yesterday.'  He
loved thus to keep things floating in conjecture: Omne ignotum pro
magnifico est. I believe I ventured to dissipate the cloud, to
unveil the mystery, more freely and frequently than any of his
friends. We stopped again at Wirgman's, the 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
collection called Johnsoniana has sold very much.'  JOHNSON. 'Yet
the Journey to the Hebrides has not had a great sale.'  BOSWELL.
'That is strange.'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; for in that book I have
told the world a great deal that they did not know before.'

BOSWELL. 'I drank chocolate, Sir, this morning with Mr. Eld; and,
to my no small surprize, found him to be a Staffordshire Whig, a
being which I did not believe had existed.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, there
are rascals in all countries.'  BOSWELL. 'Eld said, a Tory was a
creature generated between a non-juring parson and one's
grandmother.'  JOHNSON. 'And I have always said, the first Whig
was the Devil.'  BOSWELL. 'He certainly was, Sir. The Devil was
impatient of subordination; he was the first who resisted power:--

    "Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven."'

At General Paoli's were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Marchese
Gherardi of Lombardy, and Mr. John Spottiswoode 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 companion, Sir?'  JOHNSON. 'To
get rid of myself, to send myself away. Wine gives great pleasure;
and every pleasure is of itself a good. It is a good, unless
counterbalanced by evil. A man may have a strong reason not to
drink wine; and that may be greater than the pleasure. Wine makes
a man better pleased with himself. I do not say that it makes him
more pleasing to others. Sometimes it does. But the danger is,
that while a man grows better pleased with himself, he may be
growing less pleasing to others. Wine gives a man nothing. It
neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it only animates a man, and
enables him to bring out 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 may be bad.'  SPOTTISWOODE. 'So, Sir, wine is a
key which opens a box; but this box may be either full or empty.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, conversation is the key: wine is a pick-lock,
which forces open the box and injures it. A man should cultivate
his mind so as to have that confidence and readiness without wine,
which wine gives.'  BOSWELL. 'The great difficulty of resisting
wine is from benevolence. For instance, a good worthy man asks you
to taste his wine, which he has had twenty years in his cellar.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, all this notion about benevolence arises from a
man's imagining himself to be of more importance to others, than he
really is. They don't care a farthing whether he drinks wine or
not.'  SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'Yes, they do for the time.'  JOHNSON.
'For the time!--If they care this minute, they forget it the next.
And as for the good worthy man; how do 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 patriae 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 have
thought so indeed, Sir, had I made such a speech as you have now
done.'  JOHNSON. (drawing himself in, and, I really thought
blushing,) 'Nay, don't be angry. I did not mean to offend you.'
SIR JOSHUA. 'At first the taste of wine was disagreeable to me;
but I brought myself to drink it, that I might be like other
people. The pleasure of drinking wine is so connected with
pleasing your company, that altogether there is something of social
goodness in it.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, this is only saying the same
thing over again.'  SIR JOSHUA. 'No, this is new.'  JOHNSON. 'You
put it in new words, but it is an old thought. This is one of the
disadvantages of wine. It makes a man mistake words for thoughts.'
BOSWELL. 'I think it is a new thought; at least, it is in a new
ATTITUDE.'  JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, it is only in a new coat; or an
old coat with a new facing. (Then laughing heartily,) It is the
old dog in a new doublet.--An extraordinary instance however may
occur where a man's patron will do nothing for him, unless he will
drink: THERE may be a good reason for drinking.'

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

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

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

RAMSAY. 'I am old enough to have been a contemporary of Pope. His
poetry was highly admired in his life-time, more a great deal than
after his death.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, it has not been less admired
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 superfoetation, this teeming of
the press in modern times, is prejudicial to good literature,
because it obliges us to read so much of what is of inferiour
value, in order to be in the fashion; so that better works are
neglected for want of time, because a man will have more
gratification of his vanity in conversation, from having read
modern books, than from having read the best works of antiquity.
But it must be considered, that we have now more knowledge
generally diffused; all our ladies read now, which is a great
extension. Modern writers are the moons of literature; they shine
with reflected light, with light borrowed from the ancients.
Greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowledge; Rome of
elegance.'  RAMSAY. 'I suppose Homer's Iliad to be a collection of
pieces which had been written before his time. I should like to
see a translation of it in poetical prose like the book of Ruth or
Job.'  ROBERTSON. 'Would you, Dr. Johnson, who are master of the
English language, but try your hand upon a part of it.'  JOHNSON.
'Sir, you could not read it without the pleasure of verse.

Dr. Robertson expatiated on the character of a certain nobleman;
that he was one of the strongest-minded men that ever lived; that
he would sit in company quite sluggish, while there was nothing to
call 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 embrace equally great
things and small. Now I am told the King of Prussia will say to a
servant, "Bring me a bottle of such a wine, which came in such a
year; it lies in such a corner of the cellars."  I would have a man
great in great things, and elegant in little things.'  He said to
me afterwards, when we were by ourselves, 'Robertson was in a
mighty romantick humour, he talked of one whom he did not know; but
I DOWNED him with the King of Prussia.'  'Yes, Sir, (said I,) you
threw a BOTTLE at his head.'

An ingenious gentleman was mentioned, concerning whom both
Robertson and Ramsay agreed that he had a constant firmness of
mind; for after a laborious day, and amidst a multiplicity of cares
and anxieties, he would sit down with his sisters and he quite
cheerful and good-humoured. Such a disposition, it was observed,
was a happy gift of nature. JOHNSON. 'I do not think so; a man
has from nature a certain portion of mind; the use he makes of it
depends upon his own free will. That a man has always the same
firmness of mind I do not say; because every man feels his mind
less firm at one time than 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 conversation of
twenty-eight and sixty-eight. A grave picture should not be gay.
There is a serene, solemn, placid old age. JOHNSON. 'Mrs.
Thrale's mother said of me what flattered me much. A clergyman was
complaining of want of society in the country where he lived; and
said, "They talk of RUNTS;" (that is, young cows). "Sir, (said
Mrs. Salusbury,) Mr. Johnson would learn to talk of runts:" meaning
that I was a man who would make the most of my situation, whatever
it was.'  He added, 'I think myself a very polite man.'

On Saturday, May 2, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds's,
where there was a very large company, and a great deal of
conversation; but owing to some circumstance which I cannot now
recollect, I have no record of any part of it, except that there
were several people there by no means of the Johnsonian school; so
that less attention was paid to him than usual, which put him out
of humour; and upon some imaginary offence from me, he attacked me
with such rudeness, that I was vexed and angry, because it gave
those persons an opportunity of enlarging upon his supposed
ferocity, and ill treatment of his best friends. I was so much
hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that I kept away from him
for a week; and, perhaps, 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 ourselves, he drew his chair near to
mine, and said, in a tone of conciliating courtesy, 'Well, how have
you done?'  Boswell. 'Sir, you have made me very uneasy by your
behaviour to me when we were last at Sir Joshua Reynolds's. You
know, my dear Sir, no man has a greater respect and affection for
you, or would sooner go to the end of the world to serve you. Now
to treat me so--.'  He insisted that I had interrupted him, which I
assured him was not the case; and proceeded--'But why treat me so
before people who neither love you nor me?'  JOHNSON. 'Well, I am
sorry for it. I'll make it up to you twenty different ways, as you
please.'  BOSWELL. 'I said to-day to Sir Joshua, when he observed
that you TOSSED me sometimes--I don't care how often, or how high
he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then I fall upon
soft ground: but I do not like falling on stones, which is the case
when enemies are present.--I think this a pretty good image, Sir.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is one of the happiest I have ever heard.'

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

When Mr. Langton returned to us, the 'flow of talk' went on. An
eminent authour being mentioned;--JOHNSON. 'He is not a pleasant
man. His conversation is neither instructive nor brilliant. He
does not talk as if 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;'--JOHNSON. 'He had not that retort ready, Sir; he
had prepared it before-hand.'  LANGTON. (turning to me,) 'A fine
surmise. Set a thief to catch a thief.'

JOHNSON. 'I shall be at home to-morrow.'   BOSWELL. 'Then let us
dine by ourselves at the Mitre, to keep up the old custom, "the
custom of the manor," the custom of the mitre.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, so
it shall be.'

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

On Tuesday, May 12, I waited on the Earl of Marchmont, to know if
his Lordship would favour Dr. Johnson with information concerning
Pope, whose Life he was about to write. Johnson had not flattered
himself with the hopes of receiving any civility from this
nobleman; for he said to me, when I mentioned Lord Marchmont as one
who could tell him a great deal about Pope,--'Sir, he will tell ME
nothing.'  I had the honour of being known to his Lordship, and
applied to him of myself, without being commissioned by Johnson.
His Lordship behaved in the most polite and obliging manner,
promised to tell all he recollected about Pope, and was so very
courteous as to say, 'Tell Dr. Johnson I have a great respect for
him, and am ready to shew it in any way I can. I am to be in the
city to-morrow, and will call at his house as I return.'  His
Lordship however asked, 'Will he write the Lives of the Poets
impartially? He was the first that brought Whig and Tory into a
Dictionary. And what do you think of his definition of Excise? Do
you know the history of his aversion to the word transpire?'  Then
taking down the folio Dictionary, he shewed it with this censure on
its secondary sense: '"To escape from 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.'  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, Senectus.'  JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, to insist always that there
should be one word to express a thing in English, because there is
one in another language, is to change the language.'

I 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, 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-exultation, which provoked his spleen; or whether he
was seized with a suspicion that I had obtruded him on Lord
Marchmont, and humbled him too much; or whether there was any thing
more than an unlucky fit of ill-humour, I know not; but, to my
surprize, the result was,--JOHNSON. 'I shall not be in town to-
morrow. I don't care to know about Pope.'  MRS. THRALE.
(surprized as I was, and a little angry,) 'I suppose, Sir, Mr.
Boswell thought, that as you are to write Pope's Life, you would
wish to know about him.'  JOHNSON. 'Wish! why yes. If it rained
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 temper
with which this great and good man had occasionally to struggle,
from something morbid in his constitution. Let the most censorious
of my readers suppose himself to have a violent fit of the tooth-
ach, or to have received a severe stroke on the shin-bone, and when
in such a state to be asked a question; and if he has any candour,
he will not be surprized at the answers which Johnson sometimes
gave in moments of irritation, which, let me assure them, is
exquisitely painful. But it must not be erroneously supposed that
he was, in the smallest degree, careless concerning any work which
he undertook, or that he 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 fretfulness, and fell into
conversation as usual.

JOHNSON. 'How foolish was it in Pope to give all his friendship to
Lords, who thought they honoured him by being with him; and to
choose such Lords as Burlington, and Cobham, and Bolingbroke!
Bathurst was negative, a pleasing man; and I have heard no ill of
Marchmont; and then always 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 Midnight Conversation.'  I
asked him what he knew of Parson Ford, who makes a conspicuous
figure in the riotous group. JOHNSON. 'Sir, he was my
acquaintance and relation, my mother's nephew. He had purchased a
living in the country, but not simoniacally. I never saw him but
in the country. I have been told he was a man of great parts; very
profligate, but I never heard he was impious.'  BOSWELL. 'Was
there not a story of his ghost having appeared?'  JOHNSON. 'Sir,
it was believed. A waiter at the Hummums, in which house Ford
died, had been absent for some time, and returned, not knowing that
Ford was dead. Going down to the cellar, according to the story,
he met him; going down again he met him a second time. When he
came up, he asked some of the people of the house what Ford could
be doing there. They told him Ford was dead. The waiter took a
fever, in which he lay for some time. When he recovered, he said
he had a message to deliver to some women from Ford; but he was not
to tell what, or to whom. He walked out; he was followed; but
somewhere about St. Paul's they lost him. He came back, and said
he had delivered the message, and the women exclaimed, "Then we are
all undone!"  Dr. Pellet, who was not a credulous man, inquired
into the truth of this story, and he said, the evidence was
irresistible. My wife went to the Hummums; (it is a place where
people get themselves cupped.)  I believe she went with intention
to hear about this story of Ford. At first they 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* with him at Streatham. He talked a great
deal, in very good humour.

* Wednesday, May 13.--ED.

Looking at Messrs. Dilly's splendid edition of Lord Chesterfield'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.'

BOSWELL. 'Is not modesty natural?'  JOHNSON. 'I cannot say, Sir,
as we find no people quite in a state of nature; but I think the
more they are taught, the more modest they are. The French are a
gross, ill-bred, untaught people; a lady there will spit on the
floor and rub it with her foot. What I gained by being in France
was, learning to be better satisfied with my own country. Time may
be employed to more advantage from nineteen to twenty-four almost
in any way than in travelling; when you set travelling against mere
negation, against doing nothing, it is better to be sure; but how
much more would a young man improve were he to study during those
years. Indeed, if a young man is wild, and must run after women
and bad company, it is better this should be done abroad, as, on
his return, he can break off such connections, and begin at home a
new man, with a character to form, and acquaintances to make. How
little does travelling supply to the conversation of any man who
has travelled; how little to Beauclerk!'  BOSWELL. 'What say you
to Lord ------?'  JOHNSON. 'I never but once heard him talk of
what he had seen, and that was of a large serpent in one of the
Pyramids of Egypt.'  BOSWELL. 'Well, I happened to hear him tell
the same thing, which made me mention him.'

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

As he was a zealous friend of subordination, he was at all times
watchful to repress the vulgar cant against the manners of the
great; 'High people, Sir, (said he,) are the best; take a hundred
ladies of quality, you'll find them better wives, better mothers,
more willing to sacrifice their own pleasure to their children than
a hundred other women. Tradeswomen (I mean the wives of tradesmen)
in the city, who are worth from ten to fifteen thousand pounds, are
the worst creatures upon the earth, grossly ignorant, and thinking
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 fornication 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.'

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 caelum jusseris ibit?' 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; nobody 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 manifested 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 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 courteously 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
likewise, 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 uncomfortable his home was made
by the perpetual jarring of those whom he charitably accommodated
under his roof. He has sometimes suffered me to talk jocularly of
his 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 Desmoulins, and
does not love Williams; Desmoulins hates them both; Poll* loves
none of them.'**

* Miss Carmichael.

** A year later he wrote: At Bolt-court there is much malignity,
but of late little hostility.'--ED.

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 remaining volumes came out in the year
1780. The Poets were selected by the several booksellers who had
the honorary copy right, which is still preserved among them by
mutual compact, notwithstanding the decision of the House of Lords
against the perpetuity of Literary Property. We have his own
authority, 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 announced 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,* 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 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.'

* He sent a set elegantly bound and gilt, which was received as a
very handsome present.--BOSWELL

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

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

During my stay in London this spring, I find I was unaccountably
negligent in preserving Johnson's sayings, more so than at any time
when 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 confessed an excess
of which I had very seldom been guilty; that I had spent a whole
night in playing at cards, and that I could not look back on it
with satisfaction; instead of a harsh animadversion, he mildly
said, 'Alas, Sir, on how few things can we look back with
satisfaction.'

On 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.'

In the interval between morning and evening service, he endeavoured
to employ himself earnestly in devotional exercises; and as he has
mentioned in his Prayers and Meditations, 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 estimation. I
used to say, that as he had given me a thousand pounds in praise,
he had a good right now and then to take a guinea from me.

On Thursday, April 8, I dined with him at Mr. Allan Ramsay's, with
Lord Graham and some other company. We talked of Shakspeare's
witches. JOHNSON. 'They are beings of his own creation; they are
a compound of malignity and meanness, without any abilities; and
are quite different from the Italian magician. King James says in
his Daemonology, 'Magicians command the devils: witches are their
servants. The Italian magicians are elegant beings.'  RAMSAY.
'Opera witches, not Drury-lane witches.'  Johnson observed, that
abilities might be employed in a narrow sphere, as in 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 hardly wish that the mob should have liberty to govern
us. When that was the case some time ago, no man was at liberty
not to have candles in his windows.'  RAMSAY. 'The result is, that
order is better than confusion.'  JOHNSON. 'The result is, that
order cannot be had but by subordination.'

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

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

In talking of Hackman, Johnson argued, as Judge Blackstone had
done, that his being furnished with two pistols was a proof that he
meant to shoot two persons. Mr. Beauclerk said, 'No; for that
every wise man who intended to shoot himself, took two pistols,
that he might be sure of doing it at once. Lord ------ ------'
cook shot himself with one pistol, and lived ten days in great
agony. Mr. ------, who loved buttered muffins, but durst not eat
them because they disagreed with his stomach, resolved to shoot
himself; and then he eat three buttered muffins for breakfast,
before shooting himself, knowing that he should not be troubled
with indigestion: HE had two charged pistols; one was found lying
charged upon the table by him, after he had shot himself with the
other.'  'Well, (said Johnson, with an air of triumph,) you see
here one pistol was sufficient.'  Beauclerk replied smartly,
'Because it happened to kill him.'  And either then or a very
little afterwards, being piqued at Johnson's triumphant remark,
added, 'This is what you don't know, and I do.'  There was then a
cessation of the dispute; and some minutes intervened, during
which, dinner and the glass went on cheerfully; when Johnson
suddenly and abruptly exclaimed, 'Mr. Beauclerk, how came you to
talk so petulantly to me, as "This is what you don't know, but what
I know"? One thing I know, which YOU don't seem to know, that you
are very uncivil.'  BEAUCLERK. 'Because YOU began by being
uncivil, (which you always are.)'  The words in parenthesis were, I
believe, not heard by Dr. Johnson. Here again there was a
cessation of arms. Johnson told me, that the reason why he waited
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 him as Beauclerk did, and
therefore resolved he would not let it pass; adding, that 'he would
not appear a coward.'  A little while after this, the conversation
turned on the violence of Hackman's temper. Johnson then said, 'It
was his business to COMMAND his temper, as my friend, Mr.
Beauclerk, should have done some time 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; because you have done a great deal
when you have brought him to have entertainment from a book. He'll
get better books afterwards.'

'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. Beauclerk'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. [Greek text omitted]--He had
friends, but no friend. Garrick was so diffused, he had no man to
whom he wished to unbosom himself. He found people always ready to
applaud him, and that always for the same thing: so he saw life
with great uniformity.'  I took upon me, for once, to fight with
Goliath's weapons, and play the sophist.--Garrick did not need a
friend, as he got from every body all he wanted. What is a friend?
One who supports you and comforts you, while others do not.
Friendship, you know, Sir, is the cordial drop, "to make the
nauseous draught of life go down:" but if the draught be not
nauseous, if it be all sweet, there is no occasion for that drop.'
JOHNSON. 'Many men would not be content to live so. I hope I
should not. They would wish to have an intimate friend, with whom
they might compare minds, and cherish private virtues. One of the
company mentioned Lord Chesterfield, as a man who had no friend.
JOHNSON. 'There were more materials to make friendship in Garrick,
had he not been so diffused.'  BOSWELL. 'Garrick was pure gold,
but beat out to thin leaf. Lord Chesterfield was tinsel.'
JOHNSON. 'Garrick was a very good man, the cheerfullest man of his
age; a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to give
indulgence to licentiousness; and a man who gave away, freely,
money acquired by himself. He began the world with a great hunger
for money; the son of a half-pay officer, bred in a family, whose
study was to make four-pence do as much as others made four-pence
halfpenny do. But, when he had got money, he was very liberal.'  I
presumed to animadvert on his eulogy on Garrick, in his Lives of
the Poets. 'You say, Sir, his death eclipsed the gaiety of
nations.'  JOHNSON. 'I could not have said more nor less. It is
the truth; ECLIPSED, not EXTINGUISHED; and his death DID eclipse;
it was like a storm.'  BOSWELL. 'But why nations? Did his gaiety
extend farther than his own nation?'  JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, some
exaggeration must be allowed. Besides, nations may be said--if we
allow the Scotch to be a nation, and to have gaiety,--which they
have not. YOU are an exception, though. Come, gentlemen, let us
candidly admit that there is one Scotchman who is cheerful.'
BEAUCLERK. 'But he is a very 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 unalloyed, is as great a power as man
can possess.'  This was, perhaps, as ingenious a defence as could
be made; still, however, I was not satisfied.

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 remember, Sir, you said that Taylor was an
instance how far impudence could carry ignorance.'  Mr. Beauclerk
was very entertaining this day, and told us a number of short
stories in a lively elegant manner, and with that air of THE WORLD
which has I know not what impressive effect, as if there were
something more than is expressed, or than perhaps we could
perfectly understand. As Johnson and I accompanied Sir Joshua
Reynolds in his coach, Johnson said, 'There is in Beauclerk a
predominance over his company, that one does not like. But he is a
man who has lived so much in the world, that he has a short story
on every occasion; he is always ready to talk, and is never
exhausted.'

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.

'MY DEAR SIR,--I am in great pain with an inflamed foot, and
obliged to keep my bed, so am prevented from having the pleasure to
dine at Mr. Ramsay's to-day, which is very hard; and my spirits are
sadly sunk. Will you be so friendly as to come and sit an hour
with me in the evening. I am ever your most faithful, and
affectionate humble servant,

'South Audley-street,
Monday, April 26.'

'JAMES BOSWELL.'

'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-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 agreeable as I could have wished. When we came out, I said
to Johnson, that considering his Lordship's civility, I should have
been vexed if he had again failed to come. 'Sir, (said he,) I
would rather have given twenty pounds than not have come.'  I
accompanied him to Streatham, where we dined, and returned to town
in the evening.

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

'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 Edinburgh, I
presented this letter to him, and was very politely received. I
begged to have it returned to me, which was accordingly done. His
state of the evidence as to the ghost did not satisfy me.

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

* 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
dextri carpo proximum et cutem pectoris circa mamillam dextram
rasi, ut notum fieret quanto 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
bookcase, to see what weight they will lose by drying.'--BOSWELL.

My friend Colonel James Stuart, second son of the Earl of Bute, who
had distinguished himself as a good officer of the Bedfordshire
militia, had taken a publick-spirited resolution to serve his
country in its difficulties, by raising a regular regiment, and
taking the command of it himself. This, in the heir of the immense
property of Wortley, was highly honourable. Having been in
Scotland recruiting, he obligingly asked me to accompany him to
Leeds, then the head-quarters of his corps; from thence to London
for a short time, and afterwards to other places to which the
regiment might be ordered. Such an offer, at a time of the year
when I had full leisure, was very pleasing; especially as I was to
accompany a man of sterling good sense, information, discernment,
and conviviality; and was to have a second crop in one year of
London and Johnson. Of this I informed my illustrious friend, 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. Strahan's. The
conversation having turned on the prevailing practice of going to
the East-Indies in quest of wealth;--JOHNSON. 'A man had better
have ten thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in England,
than twenty thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in
India, because you must compute what you GIVE for money; and a man
who has lived ten years in India, has given up ten years of social
comfort and all those advantages which arise from living in
England. The ingenious Mr. Brown, distinguished by the name of
Capability Brown, told me, that he was once at the seat of Lord
Clive, who had returned from India with great wealth; and that he
shewed him at the door of his bed-chamber a large chest, which he
said he had once had full of gold; upon which Brown observed, "I am
glad you can bear it so near your bed-chamber."'

We talked of the state of the poor in London.--JOHNSON. 'Saunders
Welch, the Justice, who was once High-Constable of Holborn, and had
the best opportunities of knowing the state of the poor, told me,
that I under-rated the number, when I computed that twenty a week,
that is, above a thousand a year, died of hunger; not absolutely of
immediate hunger; but of the wasting and other diseases which are
the consequences of hunger. This 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.

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

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

BOSWELL. 'By associating with you, Sir, I am always getting an
accession of wisdom. But perhaps a man, after knowing his own
character--the limited strength of his own mind, should not be
desirous of having too much wisdom, considering, quid valeant
humeri, how little he can carry.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, be as wise as
you can; let a man be aliis laetus, sapiens sibi:

    "Though pleas'd to see the dolphins play,
     I mind my compass and my way."

You may be wise in your study in the morning, and gay in company at
a tavern in the evening. Every man is to take care of his own
wisdom and his own virtue, without minding too much what others
think.'

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

In his Life of Milton he observes, 'I cannot but remark a kind of
respect, perhaps unconsciously, paid to this great man by his
biographers: every house in which he resided is historically
mentioned, as if it were an injury to neglect naming any place that
he honoured by his presence.'  I had, before I read this
observation, been desirous of shewing that respect to Johnson, by
various inquiries. Finding him this evening in a very good humour,
I prevailed on 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. 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.

On Tuesday, October 12, I dined with him at Mr. Ramsay's, with Lord
Newhaven, and some other company, none of whom I recollect, but a
beautiful Miss Graham, a relation of his Lordship's, who asked Dr.
Johnson to hob or nob with her. He was flattered by such pleasing
attention, and politely told her, he never drank wine; but if she
would drink a glass of water, he was much at her service. She
accepted. 'Oho, Sir! (said Lord Newhaven,) you are caught.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, I do not see HOW I am CAUGHT; but if I am caught, I
don't want to get free again. If I am caught, I hope to be kept.'
Then when the two glasses of water were brought, smiling placidly
to the young lady, 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 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 Whitefield, he
said, 'Whitefield never drew as much attention as a mountebank
does; he did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by
doing what was strange. Were Astley to preach a sermon standing
upon his head on a horse's back, he would collect a multitude to
hear him; but no wise man would say he had made a better sermon for
that. I never treated Whitefield's ministry with contempt; I
believe he did good. He had devoted himself to the lower classes
of mankind, and among them he was of use. But when familiarity and
noise claim the praise due to knowledge, art, and elegance, we must
beat down such pretensions.'

What I have preserved of his conversation during the remainder of
my stay in London at this time, is only what follows: I told him
that when I objected to keeping company with a notorious infidel, a
celebrated friend of 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 doctrine would very soon bring a man to
the gallows.'

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

Yet he had a kindness for the Irish nation, and thus generously
expressed himself to a gentleman from that country, on the subject
of an UNION which artful Politicians have 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, Il Genio errante, though I have been
told it was rendered more ludicrously, Il 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 entertaining to the company who
were present, and many a time afterwards it furnished a pleasant
topick of merriment: 'The Ambassadour says well,' became a
laughable term of applause, when no mighty matter had been
expressed.

I left London on Monday, October 15, and accompanied Colonel Stuart
to Chester, where his regiment was to lye for some time.

1780: AETAT. 71.]--In 1780, the world was kept in impatience for
the completion of his Lives of the Poets, upon which he was
employed so far as his indolence allowed him to labour.

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

'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 opiates, I think, six. This
day it seems to remit.

'The loss, dear Sir, which you have lately suffered, I felt many
years ago, and know therefore how much has been taken from you, and
how little help can be had from consolation. 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
anticipate the future. The continuity of being is lacerated; the
settled course of sentiment and action is stopped; and life stands
suspended and motionless, till it is driven by external causes into
a new channel. But the time of suspense is dreadful.

'Our first recourse in this distressed solitude, is, perhaps for
want of habitual piety, to a gloomy acquiescence in 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 h