Life Of Johnson, Volume 4 (of 6) - Boswell
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His acute observation of human life made him remark, 'Sir, there is
nothing by which a man exasperates most people more, than by displaying
a superiour ability or brilliancy in conversation. They seem pleased at
the time; but their envy makes them curse him at their hearts[608].'
My readers will probably be surprised to hear that the great Dr. Johnson
could amuse himself with so slight and playful a species of composition
as a _Charade_. I have recovered one which he made on Dr. _Barnard_, now
Lord Bishop of Killaloe; who has been pleased for many years to treat me
with so much intimacy and social ease, that I may presume to call him
not only my Right Reverend, but my very dear Friend. I therefore with
peculiar pleasure give to the world a just and elegant compliment thus
paid to his Lordship by Johnson[609].
CHARADE.
'My _first_[610] shuts out thieves from your house or your room,
My _second_[611] expresses a Syrian perfume.
My _whole_[612] is a man in whose converse is shar'd,
The strength of a Bar and the sweetness of Nard.'
Johnson asked Richard Owen Cambridge, Esq., if he had read the Spanish
translation of _Sallust_, said to be written by a Prince of Spain[613],
with the assistance of his tutor, who is professedly the authour of a
treatise annexed, on the Phoenician language.
Mr. Cambridge commended the work, particularly as he thought the
Translator understood his authour better than is commonly the case with
Translators: but said, he was disappointed in the purpose for which he
borrowed the book; to see whether a Spaniard could be better furnished
with inscriptions from monuments, coins, or other antiquities which he
might more probably find on a coast, so immediately opposite to
Carthage, than the Antiquaries of any other countries. JOHNSON. 'I am
very sorry you was[614] not gratified in your expectations.' CAMBRIDGE.
'The language would have been of little use, as there is no history
existing in that tongue to balance the partial accounts which the Roman
writers have left us.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir. They have not been _partial_,
they have told their own story, without shame or regard to equitable
treatment of their injured enemy; they had no compunction, no feeling
for a Carthaginian. Why, Sir, they would never have borne Virgil's
description of Aeneas's treatment of Dido, if she had not been a
Carthaginian[615].'
I gratefully acknowledge this and other communications from Mr.
Cambridge, whom, if a beautiful villa on the banks of the Thames, a few
miles distant from London, a numerous and excellent library, which he
accurately knows and reads, a choice collection of pictures, which he
understands and relishes, an easy fortune, an amiable family, an
extensive circle of friends and acquaintance, distinguished by rank,
fashion and genius, a literary fame, various, elegant and still
increasing, colloquial talents rarely to be found[616], and with all
these means of happiness, enjoying, when well advanced in years, health
and vigour of body, serenity and animation of mind, do not entitle to be
addressed _fortunate senex!_[617] I know not to whom, in any age, that
expression could with propriety have been used. Long may he live to hear
and to feel it!
Johnson's love of little children, which he discovered upon all
occasions, calling them 'pretty dears,' and giving them sweetmeats, was
an undoubted proof of the real humanity and gentleness of his
disposition[618].
His uncommon kindness to his servants, and serious concern, not only for
their comfort in this world, but their happiness in the next, was
another unquestionable evidence of what all, who were intimately
acquainted with him, knew to be true.
Nor would it be just, under this head, to omit the fondness which he
shewed for animals which he had taken under his protection. I never
shall forget the indulgence with which he treated Hodge, his cat: for
whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having
that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature. I am,
unluckily, one of those who have an antipathy to a cat, so that I am
uneasy when in the room with one; and I own, I frequently suffered a
good deal from the presence of this same Hodge. I recollect him one day
scrambling up Dr. Johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction,
while my friend smiling and half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and
pulled him by the tail; and when I observed he was a fine cat, saying,
'Why yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this;' and
then as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, adding, 'but he is
a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.'
This reminds me of the ludicrous account which he gave Mr. Langton, of
the despicable state of a young Gentleman of good family. 'Sir, when I
heard of him last, he was running about town shooting cats.' And then in
a sort of kindly reverie, he bethought himself of his own favourite cat,
and said, 'But Hodge shan't be shot; no, no, Hodge shall not be shot.'
He thought Mr. Beauclerk made a shrewd and judicious' remark to Mr.
Langton, who, after having been for the first time in company with a
well-known wit about town, was warmly admiring and praising him, 'See
him again,' said Beauclerk.
His respect for the Hierarchy, and particularly the Dignitaries of the
Church, has been more than once exhibited in the course of this
work[619]. Mr. Seward saw him presented to the Archbishop of York[620],
and described his _Bow to an ARCH-BISHOP_, as such a studied elaboration
of homage, such an extension of limb, such a flexion of body, as have
seldom or ever been equalled.
I cannot help mentioning with much regret, that by my own negligence I
lost an opportunity of having the history of my family from its founder
Thomas Boswell, in 1504, recorded and illustrated by Johnson's pen. Such
was his goodness to me, that when I presumed to solicit him for so great
a favour, he was pleased to say, 'Let me have all the materials you can
collect, and I will do it both in Latin and English; then let it be
printed and copies of it be deposited in various places for security and
preservation.' I can now only do the best I can to make up for this
loss, keeping my great Master steadily in view. Family histories, like
the _imagines majorum_ of the Ancients, excite to virtue; and I wish
that they who really have blood, would be more careful to trace and
ascertain its course. Some have affected to laugh at the history of the
house of Yvery[621]: it would be well if many others would transmit
their pedigrees to posterity, with the same accuracy and generous zeal
with which the Noble Lord who compiled that work has honoured and
perpetuated his ancestry.
On Thursday, April 10[622], I introduced to him, at his house in
Bolt-court, the Honourable and Reverend William Stuart, son of the Earl
of Bute; a gentleman truly worthy of being known to Johnson; being, with
all the advantages of high birth, learning, travel, and elegant manners,
an exemplary parish priest in every respect.
After some compliments on both sides, the tour which Johnson and I had
made to the Hebrides was mentioned. JOHNSON. 'I got an acquisition of
more ideas by it than by any thing that I remember. I saw quite a
different system of life[623].' BOSWELL. 'You would not like to make the
same journey again?' JOHNSON. 'Why no, Sir; not the same: it is a tale
told. Gravina, an Italian critick, observes, that every man desires to
see that of which he has read; but no man desires to read an account of
what he has seen: so much does description fall short of reality.
Description only excites curiosity: seeing satisfies it. Other people
may go and see the Hebrides.' BOSWELL. 'I should wish to go and see some
country totally different from what I have been used to; such as Turkey,
where religion and every thing else are different.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir;
there are two objects of curiosity,--the Christian world, and the
Mahometan world. All the rest may be considered as barbarous.' BOSWELL.
'Pray, Sir, is the _Turkish Spy_[624] a genuine book?' JOHNSON. 'No,
Sir. Mrs. Manley, in her _Life_, says that her father wrote the first
two volumes[625]: and in another book, _Dunton's Life and Errours_, we
find that the rest was written by one _Sault_, at two guineas a sheet,
under the direction of Dr. Midgeley[626].
BOSWELL. 'This has been a very factious reign, owing to the too great
indulgence of Government.' JOHNSON. 'I think so, Sir. What at first was
lenity, grew timidity[627]. Yet this is reasoning _a posteriori_, and
may not be just. Supposing a few had at first been punished, I believe
faction would have been crushed; but it might have been said, that it
was a sanguinary reign. A man cannot tell _a priori_ what will be best
for Government to do. This reign has been very unfortunate. We have had
an unsuccessful war; but that does not prove that we have been ill
governed. One side or other must prevail in war, as one or other must
win at play. When we beat Louis we were not better governed; nor were
the French better governed when Louis beat us.'
On Saturday, April 12, I visited him, in company with Mr. Windham, of
Norfolk, whom, though a Whig, he highly valued. One of the best things
he ever said was to this gentleman; who, before he set out for Ireland
as Secretary to Lord Northington, when Lord Lieutenant, expressed to the
Sage some modest and virtuous doubts, whether he could bring himself to
practise those arts which it is supposed a person in that situation has
occasion to employ. 'Don't be afraid, Sir, (said Johnson, with a
pleasant smile,) you will soon make a very pretty rascal[628].
He talked to-day a good deal of the wonderful extent and variety of
London, and observed, that men of curious enquiry might see in it such
modes of life as very few could even imagine. He in particular
recommended to us to _explore Wapping_, which we resolved to do[629].
Mr. Lowe, the painter, who was with him, was very much distressed that a
large picture which he had painted was refused to be received into the
Exhibition of the Royal Academy. Mrs. Thrale knew Johnson's character so
superficially, as to represent him as unwilling to do small acts of
benevolence; and mentions in particular, that he would hardly take the
trouble to write a letter in favour of his friends[630]. The truth,
however, is, that he was remarkable, in an extraordinary degree, for
what she denies to him; and, above all, for this very sort of kindness,
writing letters for those to whom his solicitations might be of service.
He now gave Mr. Lowe the following, of which I was diligent enough, with
his permission, to take copies at the next coffee-house, while Mr.
Windham was so good as to stay by me.
TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
'SIR,
'Mr. Lowe considers himself as cut off from all credit and all hope, by
the rejection of his picture from the Exhibition. Upon this work he has
exhausted all his powers, and suspended all his expectations: and,
certainly, to be refused an opportunity of taking the opinion of the
publick, is in itself a very great hardship. It is to be condemned
without a trial.
If you could procure the revocation of this incapacitating edict, you
would deliver an unhappy man from great affliction. The Council has
sometimes reversed its own determination; and I hope, that by your
interposition this luckless picture may be got admitted. I am, &c.
SAM. JOHNSON.
April 12, 1783.
To MR. BARRY.
SIR,
Mr. Lowe's exclusion from the exhibition gives him more trouble than you
and the other gentlemen of the Council could imagine or intend. He
considers disgrace and ruin as the inevitable consequence of your
determination.
He says, that some pictures have been received after rejection; and if
there be any such precedent, I earnestly entreat that you will use your
interest in his favour. Of his work I can say nothing; I pretend not to
judge of painting; and this picture I never saw: but I conceive it
extremely hard to shut out any man from the possibility of success; and
therefore I repeat my request that you will propose the re-consideration
of Mr. Lowe's case; and if there be any among the Council with whom my
name can have any weight, be pleased to communicate to them the desire
of, Sir, Your most humble servant, SAM. JOHNSON. April 12, 1783.
Such intercession was too powerful to be resisted; and Mr. Lowe's
performance was admitted at Somerset Place[631]. The subject, as I
recollect, was the Deluge, at that point of time when the water was
verging to the top of the last uncovered mountain. Near to the spot was
seen the last of the antediluvian race, exclusive of those who were
saved in the ark of Noah. This was one of those giants, then the
inhabitants of the earth, who had still strength to swim, and with one
of his hands held aloft his infant child. Upon the small remaining dry
spot appeared a famished lion, ready to spring at the child and devour
it. Mr. Lowe told me that Johnson said to him, 'Sir, your picture is
noble and probable.' 'A compliment, indeed, (said Mr. Lowe,) from a man
who cannot lie, and cannot be mistaken.'
About this time he wrote to Mrs. Lucy Porter, mentioning his bad health,
and that he intended a visit to Lichfield. 'It is, (says he,) with no
great expectation of amendment that I make every year a journey into the
country; but it is pleasant to visit those whose kindness has been often
experienced.'
On April 18, (being Good-Friday,) I found him at breakfast, in his usual
manner upon that day, drinking tea without milk, and eating a cross-bun
to prevent faintness; we went to St. Clement's church, as formerly. When
we came home from church, he placed himself on one of the stone-seats at
his garden-door, and I took the other, and thus in the open air and in a
placid frame of mind, he talked away very easily. JOHNSON. 'Were I a
country gentleman, I should not be very hospitable, I should not have
crowds in my house[632].' BOSWELL. 'Sir Alexander Dick[633] tells me,
that he remembers having a thousand people in a year to dine at his
house: that is, reckoning each person as one, each time that he dined
there.' JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, is about three a day.' BOSWELL. 'How your
statement lessens the idea.' JOHNSON. 'That, Sir, is the good of
counting[634]. It brings every thing to a certainty, which before
floated in the mind indefinitely.' BOSWELL. 'But _Omne ignotum pro
magnifico est[635]: one is sorry to have this diminished.' JOHNSON.
'Sir, you should not allow yourself to be delighted with errour.'
BOSWELL. 'Three a day seem but few.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, he who
entertains three a day, does very liberally. And if there is a large
family, the poor entertain those three, for they eat what the poor would
get: there must be superfluous meat; it must be given to the poor, or
thrown out.' BOSWELL. 'I observe in London, that the poor go about and
gather bones, which I understand are manufactured.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir;
they boil them, and extract a grease from them for greasing wheels and
other purposes. Of the best pieces they make a mock ivory, which is used
for hafts to knives, and various other things; the coarser pieces they
burn and pound, and sell the ashes.' BOSWELL. 'For what purpose, Sir?'
JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, for making a furnace for the chymists for melting
iron. A paste made of burnt bones will stand a stronger heat than any
thing else. Consider, Sir; if you are to melt iron, you cannot line your
pot with brass, because it is softer than iron, and would melt sooner;
nor with iron, for though malleable iron is harder than cast iron, yet
it would not do; but a paste of burnt-bones will not melt.' BOSWELL. 'Do
you know, Sir, I have discovered a manufacture to a great extent, of
what you only piddle at,--scraping and drying the peel of oranges[636].
At a place in Newgate-street, there is a prodigious quantity prepared,
which they sell to the distillers.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, I believe they make a
higher thing out of them than a spirit; they make what is called
orange-butter, the oil of the orange inspissated, which they mix perhaps
with common pomatum, and make it fragrant. The oil does not fly off in
the drying.'
BOSWELL. 'I wish to have a good walled garden.' JOHNSON. 'I don't think
it would be worth the expence to you. We compute in England, a park wall
at a thousand pounds a mile; now a garden-wall must cost at least as
much. You intend your trees should grow higher than a deer will leap.
Now let us see; for a hundred pounds you could only have forty-four
square yards, which is very little; for two hundred pounds, you may have
eighty-four square yards[637], which is very well. But when will you get
the value of two hundred pounds of walls, in fruit, in your climate? No,
Sir, such contention with Nature is not worth while. I would plant an
orchard, and have plenty of such fruit as ripen well in your country. My
friend, Dr. Madden[638], of Ireland, said, that "in an orchard there
should be enough to eat, enough to lay up, enough to be stolen, and
enough to rot upon the ground." Cherries are an early fruit, you may
have them; and you may have the early apples and pears.' BOSWELL. 'We
cannot have nonpareils.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you can no more have nonpareils
than you can have grapes.' BOSWELL. 'We have them, Sir; but they are
very bad.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, never try to have a thing merely to shew
that you _cannot_ have it. From ground that would let for forty
shillings you may have a large orchard; and you see it costs you only
forty shillings. Nay, you may graze the ground when the trees are grown
up; you cannot while they are young.' BOSWELL. 'Is not a good garden a
very common thing in England, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Not so common, Sir, as
you imagine[639]. In Lincolnshire there is hardly an orchard; in
Staffordshire very little fruit.' BOSWELL. 'Has Langton no orchard?'
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'How so, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, from the
general negligence of the county. He has it not, because nobody else has
it.' BOSWELL. 'A hot-house is a certain thing; I may have that.'
JOHNSON. 'A hot-house is pretty certain; but you must first build it,
then you must keep fires in it, and you must have a gardener to take
care of it.' BOSWELL. 'But if I have a gardener at any rate?--' JOHNSON.
'Why, yes.' BOSWELL.' I'd have it near my house; there is no need to
have it in the orchard.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, I'd have it near my house. I
would plant a great many currants; the fruit is good, and they make a
pretty sweetmeat.'
I record this minute detail, which some may think trifling, in order to
shew clearly how this great man, whose mind could grasp such large and
extensive subjects, as he has shewn in his literary labours, was yet
well-informed in the common affairs of life, and loved to
illustrate them.
Mr. Walker, the celebrated master of elocution[640], came in, and then
we went up stairs into the study. I asked him if he had taught many
clergymen. JOHNSON. 'I hope not.' WALKER. 'I have taught only one, and
he is the best reader I ever heard, not by my teaching, but by his own
natural talents.' JOHNSON. 'Were he the best reader in the world, I
would not have it told that he was taught.' Here was one of his peculiar
prejudices. Could it be any disadvantage to the clergyman to have it
known that he was taught an easy and graceful delivery? BOSWELL. 'Will
you not allow, Sir, that a man may be taught to read well?' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, so far as to read better than he might do without being
taught, yes. Formerly it was supposed that there was no difference in
reading, but that one read as well as another.' BOSWELL. 'It is
wonderful to see old Sheridan as enthusiastick about oratory as
ever[641],' WALKER. 'His enthusiasm as to what oratory will do, may be
too great: but he reads well.' JOHNSON. 'He reads well, but he reads
low[642]; and you know it is much easier to read low than to read high;
for when you read high, you are much more limited, your loudest note can
be but one, and so the variety is less in proportion to the loudness.
Now some people have occasion to speak to an extensive audience, and
must speak loud to be heard.' WALKER. 'The art is to read strong,
though low.'
Talking of the origin of language; JOHNSON. 'It must have come by
inspiration. A thousand, nay, a million of children could not invent a
language. While the organs are pliable, there is not understanding
enough to form a language; by the time that there is understanding
enough, the organs are become stiff. We know that after a certain age we
cannot learn to pronounce a new language. No foreigner, who comes to
England when advanced in life, ever pronounces English tolerably well;
at least such instances are very rare. When I maintain that language
must have come by inspiration, I do not mean that inspiration is
required for rhetorick, and all the beauties of language; for when once
man has language, we can conceive that he may gradually form
modifications of it. I mean only that inspiration seems to me to be
necessary to give man the faculty of speech; to inform him that he may
have speech; which I think he could no more find out without
inspiration, than cows or hogs would think of such a faculty.' WALKER.
'Do you think, Sir, that there are any perfect synonimes in any
language?' JOHNSON. 'Originally there were not; but by using words
negligently, or in poetry, one word comes to be confounded
with another.'
He talked of Dr. Dodd[643]. 'A friend of mine, (said he,) came to me and
told me, that a lady wished to have Dr. Dodd's picture in a bracelet,
and asked me for a motto. I said, I could think of no better than
_Currat Lex_. I was very willing to have him pardoned, that is, to have
the sentence changed to transportation: but, when he was once hanged, I
did not wish he should be made a saint.'
Mrs. Burney, wife of his friend Dr. Burney, came in, and he seemed to be
entertained with her conversation.
Garrick's funeral was talked of as extravagantly expensive. Johnson,
from his dislike to exaggeration, would not allow that it was
distinguished by any extraordinary pomp. 'Were there not six horses to
each coach?' said Mrs. Burney. JOHNSON. 'Madam, there were no more six
horses than six phoenixes[644].'
Mrs. Burney wondered that some very beautiful new buildings should be
erected in Moorfields, in so shocking a situation as between Bedlam and
St. Luke's Hospital; and said she could not live there. JOHNSON. 'Nay,
Madam, you see nothing there to hurt you. You no more think of madness
by having windows that look to Bedlam, than you think of death by having
windows that look to a church-yard.' MRS. BURNEY. 'We may look to a
church-yard, Sir; for it is right that we should be kept in mind of
death.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Madam, if you go to that, it is right that we
should be kept in mind of madness, which is occasioned by too much
indulgence of imagination. I think a very moral use may be made of these
new buildings: I would have those who have heated imaginations live
there, and take warning.' MRS. BURNEY. 'But, Sir, many of the poor
people that are mad, have become so from disease, or from distressing
events. It is, therefore, not their fault, but their misfortune; and,
therefore, to think of them is a melancholy consideration.'
Time passed on in conversation till it was too late for the service of
the church at three o'clock. I took a walk, and left him alone for some
time; then returned, and we had coffee and conversation again by
ourselves.
I stated the character of a noble friend of mine, as a curious case for
his opinion:--'He is the most inexplicable man to me that I ever knew.
Can you explain him, Sir? He is, I really believe, noble-minded,
generous, and princely. But his most intimate friends may be separated
from him for years, without his ever asking a question concerning them.
He will meet them with a formality, a coldness, a stately indifference;
but when they come close to him, and fairly engage him in conversation,
they find him as easy, pleasant, and kind, as they could wish. One then
supposes that what is so agreeable will soon be renewed; but stay away
from him for half a year, and he will neither call on you, nor send to
inquire about you.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I cannot ascertain his character
exactly, as I do not know him; but I should not like to have such a man
for my friend. He may love study, and wish not to be interrupted by his
friends; _Amici fures temporis_. He may be a frivolous man, and be so
much occupied with petty pursuits, that he may not want friends. Or he
may have a notion that there is a dignity in appearing indifferent,
while he in fact may not be more indifferent at his heart than another.'
We went to evening prayers at St. Clement's, at seven, and then parted.
On Sunday, April 20, being Easter-day, after attending solemn service at
St. Paul's, I came to Dr. Johnson, and found Mr. Lowe, the painter,
sitting with him. Mr. Lowe mentioned the great number of new buildings
of late in London, yet that Dr. Johnson had observed, that the number of
inhabitants was not increased. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, the bills of
mortality prove that no more people die now than formerly; so it is
plain no more live. The register of births proves nothing, for not one
tenth of the people of London are born there.' BOSWELL. 'I believe, Sir,
a great many of the children born in London die early.' JOHNSON. 'Why,
yes, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'But those who do live, are as stout and strong
people as any[645]: Dr. Price[646] says, they must be naturally stronger
to get through.' JOHNSON. 'That is system, Sir. A great traveller
observes, that it is said there are no weak or deformed people among the
Indians; but he with much sagacity assigns the reason of this, which is,
that the hardship of their life as hunters and fishers does not allow
weak or diseased children to grow up. Now had I been an Indian, I must
have died early; my eyes would not have served me to get food. I indeed
now could fish, give me English tackle; but had I been an Indian I must
have starved, or they would have knocked me on the head, when they saw I
could do nothing.' BOSWELL. 'Perhaps they would have taken care of you:
we are told they are fond of oratory, you would have talked to them.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I should not have lived long enough to be fit to
talk; I should have been dead before I was ten years old. Depend upon
it, Sir, a savage, when he is hungry, will not carry about with him a
looby of nine years old, who cannot help himself. They have no
affection, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'I believe natural affection, of which we
hear so much, is very small.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, natural affection is
nothing: but affection from principle and established duty is sometimes
wonderfully strong.' LOWE. 'A hen, Sir, will feed her chickens in
preference to herself.' JOHNSON. 'But we don't know that the hen is
hungry; let the hen be fairly hungry, and I'll warrant she'll peck the
corn herself. A cock, I believe, will feed hens instead of himself; but
we don't know that the cock is hungry.' BOSWELL. 'And that, Sir, is not
from affection but gallantry. But some of the Indians have affection.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, that they help some of their children is plain; for some
of them live, which they could not do without being helped.'