Life Of Johnson, Volume 4 (of 6) - Boswell
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His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends,
particularly such of the members of the LITERARY CLUB as were then in
town; and was also honoured with the presence of several of the Reverend
Chapter of Westminster. Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Windham, Mr.
Langton, Sir Charles Bunbury, and Mr. Colman, bore his pall[1271]. His
schoolfellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the
burial service[1272].
I trust, I shall not be accused of affectation, when I declare, that I
find myself unable to express all that I felt upon the loss of such a
'Guide[1273], Philosopher, and Friend[1274].' I shall, therefore, not
say one word of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend[1275],
which he uttered with an abrupt felicity, superior to all studied
compositions:--'He has made a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up,
but which nothing has a tendency to fill up. Johnson is dead. Let us go
to the next best:--there is nobody; no man can be said to put you in
mind of Johnson[1276].'
As Johnson had abundant homage paid to him during his life[1277], so no
writer in this nation ever had such an accumulation of literary honours
after his death. A sermon upon that event was preached in St. Mary's
Church, Oxford, before the University, by the Reverend Mr. Agutter, of
Magdalen College[1278]. The _Lives_, the _Memoirs_, the _Essays_, both
in prose and verse, which have been published concerning him, would make
many volumes. The numerous attacks too upon him, I consider as part of
his consequence, upon the principle which he himself so well knew and
asserted[1279]. Many who trembled at his presence, were forward in
assault, when they no longer apprehended danger. When one of his little
pragmatical foes was invidiously snarling at his fame, at Sir Joshua
Reynolds's table, the Reverend Dr. Parr exclaimed, with his usual bold
animation, 'Ay, now that the old lion is dead, every ass thinks he may
kick at him.'
A monument for him, in Westminster Abbey, was resolved upon soon after
his death, and was supported by a most respectable contribution[1280];
but the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's having come to a resolution of
admitting monuments there, upon a liberal and magnificent plan, that
Cathedral was afterwards fixed on, as the place in which a cenotaph
should be erected to his memory[1281]: and in the cathedral of his
native city of Lichfield, a smaller one is to be erected. To compose his
epitaph, could not but excite the warmest competition of genius[1282].
If _laudari a laudato viro_ be praise which is highly estimable[1283],
I should not forgive myself were I to omit the following sepulchral
verses on the authour of THE ENGLISH DICTIONARY, written by the Right
Honourable Henry Flood[1284]:--
'No need of Latin or of Greek to grace
Our JOHNSON'S memory, or inscribe his grave;
His native language claims this mournful space,
To pay the Immortality he gave.'
The character of SAMUEL JOHNSON has, I trust, been so developed in the
course of this work, that they who have honoured it with a perusal, may
be considered as well acquainted with him. As, however, it may be
expected that I should collect into one view the capital and
distinguishing features of this extraordinary man, I shall endeavour to
acquit myself of that part of my biographical undertaking[1285], however
difficult it may be to do that which many of my readers will do better
for themselves.
His figure was large and well formed, and his countenance of the cast of
an ancient statue; yet his appearance was rendered strange and somewhat
uncouth, by convulsive cramps, by the scars of that distemper which it
was once imagined the royal touch could cure, and by a slovenly mode of
dress. He had the use only of one eye; yet so much does mind govern and
even supply the deficiency of organs, that his visual perceptions, as
far as they extended, were uncommonly quick and accurate[1286]. So
morbid was his temperament, that he never knew the natural joy of a free
and vigorous use of his limbs: when he walked, it was like the
struggling gait of one in fetters; when he rode, he had no command or
direction of his horse, but was carried as if in a balloon[1287]. That
with his constitution and habits of life he should have lived
seventy-five years, is a proof that an inherent _vivida vis_[1288] is a
powerful preservative of the human frame.
Man is, in general, made up of contradictory qualities; and these will
ever shew themselves in strange succession, where a consistency in
appearance at least, if not in reality, has not been attained by long
habits of philosophical discipline. In proportion to the native vigour
of the mind, the contradictory qualities will be the more prominent, and
more difficult to be adjusted; and, therefore, we are not to wonder,
that Johnson exhibited an eminent example of this remark which I have
made upon human nature. At different times, he seemed a different man,
in some respects; not, however, in any great or essential article, upon
which he had fully employed his mind, and settled certain principles of
duty, but only in his manners, and in the display of argument and fancy
in his talk. He was prone to superstition, but not to credulity. Though
his imagination might incline him to a belief of the marvellous and the
mysterious, his vigorous reason examined the evidence with
jealousy[1289]. He was a sincere and zealous Christian, of high
Church-of-England and monarchical principles, which he would not tamely
suffer to be questioned; and had, perhaps, at an early period, narrowed
his mind somewhat too much, both as to religion and politicks. His being
impressed with the danger of extreme latitude in either, though he was
of a very independent spirit, occasioned his appearing somewhat
unfavourable to the prevalence of that noble freedom of sentiment which
is the best possession of man. Nor can it be denied, that he had many
prejudices; which, however, frequently suggested many of his pointed
sayings, that rather shew a playfulness of fancy than any settled
malignity. He was steady and inflexible in maintaining the obligations
of religion and morality; both from a regard for the order of society,
and from a veneration for the GREAT SOURCE of all order; correct, nay
stern in his taste; hard to please, and easily offended[1290]; impetuous
and irritable in his temper, but of a most humane and benevolent
heart[1291], which shewed itself not only in a most liberal charity, as
far as his circumstances would allow, but in a thousand instances of
active benevolence. He was afflicted with a bodily disease, which made
him often restless and fretful; and with a constitutional melancholy,
the clouds of which darkened the brightness of his fancy, and gave a
gloomy cast to his whole course of thinking: we, therefore, ought not to
wonder at his sallies of impatience and passion at any time; especially
when provoked by obtrusive ignorance, or presuming petulance; and
allowance must be made for his uttering hasty and satirical sallies even
against his best friends. And, surely, when it is considered, that,
'amidst sickness and sorrow[1292],'he exerted his faculties in so many
works for the benefit of mankind, and particularly that he atchieved the
great and admirable DICTIONARY of our language, we must be astonished at
his resolution. The solemn text, 'of him to whom much is given, much
will be required[1293],' seems to have been ever present to his mind, in
a rigorous sense, and to have made him dissatisfied with his labours and
acts of goodness, however comparatively great; so that the unavoidable
consciousness of his superiority was, in that respect, a cause of
disquiet. He suffered so much from this, and from the gloom which
perpetually haunted him, and made solitude frightful, that it may be
said of him, 'If in this life only he had hope, he was of all men most
miserable[1294].' He loved praise, when it was brought to him; but was
too proud to seek for it. He was somewhat susceptible of flattery. As he
was general and unconfined in his studies, he cannot be considered as
master of any one particular science; but he had accumulated a vast and
various collection of learning and knowledge, which was so arranged in
his mind, as to be ever in readiness to be brought forth. But his
superiority over other learned men consisted chiefly in what may be
called the art of thinking, the art of using his mind; a certain
continual power of seizing the useful substance of all that he knew, and
exhibiting it in a clear and forcible manner; so that knowledge, which
we often see to be no better than lumber in men of dull understanding,
was, in him, true, evident, and actual wisdom. His moral precepts are
practical; for they are drawn from an intimate acquaintance with human
nature. His maxims carry conviction; for they are founded on the basis
of common sense, and a very attentive and minute survey of real life.
His mind was so full of imagery, that he might have been perpetually a
poet; yet it is remarkable, that, however rich his prose is in this
respect, his poetical pieces, in general, have not much of that
splendour, but are rather distinguished by strong sentiment and acute
observation, conveyed in harmonious and energetick verse, particularly
in heroick couplets. Though usually grave, and even aweful, in his
deportment, he possessed uncommon and peculiar powers of wit and humour;
he frequently indulged himself in colloquial pleasantry; and the
heartiest merriment[1295] was often enjoyed in his company; with this
great advantage, that as it was entirely free from any poisonous
tincture of vice or impiety, it was salutary to those who shared
in it. He had accustomed himself to such accuracy in his common
conversation[1296], that he at all times expressed his thoughts with
great force, and an elegant choice of language, the effect of which was
aided by his having a loud voice, and a slow deliberate utterance[1297].
In him were united a most logical head with a most fertile imagination,
which gave him an extraordinary advantage in arguing: for he could
reason close or wide, as he saw best for the moment. Exulting in his
intellectual strength and dexterity, he could, when he pleased, be the
greatest sophist that ever contended in the lists of declamation; and,
from a spirit of contradiction and a delight in shewing his powers, he
would often maintain the wrong side with equal warmth and ingenuity; so
that, when there was an audience, his real opinions could seldom be
gathered from his talk[1298]; though when he was in company with a
single friend, he would discuss a subject with genuine fairness: but he
was too conscientious to make errour permanent and pernicious, by
deliberately writing it; and, in all his numerous works, he earnestly
inculcated what appeared to him to be the truth; his piety being
constant, and the ruling principle of all his conduct[1299].
Such was SAMUEL JOHNSON, a man whose talents, acquirements, and
virtues, were so extraordinary, that the more his character is
considered, the more he will be regarded by the present age, and by
posterity, with admiration and reverence[1300].
APPENDIX A.
(_Page_ 115, _note_ 4.)
There are at least three accounts of this altercation and three versions
of the lines. Two of these versions nearly agree. The earliest is found
in a letter by Richard Burke, senior, dated Jan. 6, 1773 (_Burke
Corres_. i. 403); the second in _The Annual Register_ for 1776, p. 223;
and the third in Miss Reynolds's _Recollections_ (Croker's _Boswell_,
8vo. p. 833). R. Burke places the scene in Reynolds's house. Whether he
himself was present is not clear. 'The dean,' he says, 'asserted that
after forty-five a man did not improve. "I differ with you, Sir,"
answered Johnson; "a man may improve, and you yourself have great room
for improvement." The dean was confounded, and for the instant silent.
Recovering, he said, "On recollection I see no cause to alter my
opinion, except I was to call it improvement for a man to grow (which I
allow he may) positive, rude, and insolent, and save arguments by
brutality."' Neither the _Annual Register_ nor Miss Reynolds reports the
Dean's speech. But she says that 'soon after the ladies withdrew, Dr.
Johnson followed them, and sitting down by the lady of the house [that
is by herself, if they were at Sir Joshua's] he said, "I am very sorry
for having spoken so rudely to the Dean." "You very well may, Sir."
"Yes," he said, "it was highly improper to speak in that style to a
minister of the gospel, and I am the more hurt on reflecting with what
mild dignity he received it."' If Johnson really spoke of the Dean's
_mild dignity_, it is clear that Richard Burke's account is wrong. But
it was written just after the scene, and Boswell says there was 'a
pretty smart altercation.' Miss Reynolds continues:--'When the Dean came
up into the drawing-room, Dr. Johnson immediately rose from his seat,
and made him sit on the sofa by him, and with such a beseeching look for
pardon and with such fond gestures--literally smoothing down his arms
and his knees,' &c. The _Annual Register_ says that Barnard the next day
sent the verses addressed to 'Sir Joshua Reynolds & Co.' On the next
page I give Richard Burke's version of the lines, and show the various
readings.
MISS REYNOLD'S RICHARD BURKE'S VERSION. _Annual Register_
VERSION
I lately thought no man alive
Could e'er improve past forty-five,
And ventured to assert it;
The observation was not new,
But seem'd to me so just and true,
That none could controvert it.
'No, Sir,' says Johnson, ''tis not so;
'Tis _That's_ your mistake, and I can show
An instance, if you doubt it;
You who perhaps are _You, Sir, who are near_ forty-eight,
still May _much_ improve, 'tis not too late;
I wish you'd set about it.'
Encouraged thus to mend my faults,
I turn'd his counsel in my thoughts,
could Which way I _should_ apply it:
Genius I knew was _Learning and wit seem'd_ past my reach,
what none can For who can learn _where none will_ teach? when
And wit--I could not buy it.
Then come, my friends, and try your skill,
may You _can improve me, if you will; inform
(My books are at a distance).
With you I'll live and learn; and then
Instead of books I shall read men,
_So_ lend me your assistance. To
Dear Knight of Plympton[1301], teach me how
unclouded To suffer with _unruffled_ brow,
as And smile serene _like_ thine,
and The jest uncouth _or_ truth severe,
Like thee to turn _To such apply_ my deafest ear, To such
And calmly drink my wine. I'll turn
Thou say'st, not only skill is gain'd,
attained But genius too may be _obtain'd_, attained
invitation By studious _imitation_;
Thy temper mild, thy genius fine,
study I'll _copy_ till I make _them_ mine, thee
meditation By constant _application_.
Thy art of pleasing teach me, Garrick,
reverest (_sic_) Thou who _reversest_ odes Pindarick[1302],
A second time read o'er;
Oh! could we read thee backwards too,
Past _Last_ thirty years thou shouldst review,
And charm us thirty more.
If I have thoughts and can't express 'em,
Gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em
In terms select and terse;
Jones teach me modesty--and Greek;
Smith how to think; _Burke_ how to speak, Burk
And Beauclerk to converse.
Let Johnson teach me how to place
In fairest light each borrowed grace,
From him I'll learn to write;
free and easy Copy his _clear and easy_ style, clear
And from the roughness of his file, familiar
like Grow _as_ himself--polite.' like
Horace Walpole, on Dec. 27, 1775, speaks of these verses as if they were
fresh. 'They are an answer,' he writes, 'to a gross brutality of Dr.
Johnson, to which a properer answer would have been to fling a glass of
wine in his face. I have no patience with an unfortunate monster
trusting to his helpless deformity for indemnity for any impertinence
that his arrogance suggests, and who thinks that what he has read is an
excuse for everything he says.' Horace Walpole's _Letters,_ vi. 302. It
is strange that Walpole should be so utterly ignorant of Johnson's
courage and bodily strength. The date of Walpole's letter makes me
suspect that Richard Burke dated his Jan. 6, 1775 (he should have
written 1776), and that the blunder of a copyist has changed 1775
into 1773.
APPENDIX B.
(_Page_ 238.)
Had Boswell continued the quotation from Priestley's _Illustrations of
Philosophical Necessity_ he would have shown that though Priestley could
not _hate_ the rioters, he could very easily _prosecute_ them.
He says:--
'If as a Necessarian I cease to _blame_ men for their vices in the
ultimate sense of the word, though, in the common and proper sense of
it, I continue to do as much as other persons (for how necessarily
soever they act, they are influenced by a base and mischievous
disposition of mind, against which I must guard myself and others in
proportion as I love myself and others),' &c. Priestley's
_Works_, iii. 508.
Of his interview with Johnson, Priestley, in his _Appeal to the Public_,
part ii, published in 1792 (_Works_, xix. 502), thus writes, answering
'the impudent falsehood that when I was at Oxford Dr. Johnson left a
company on my being introduced to it':--
'In fact we never were at Oxford at the same time, and the only
interview I ever had with him was at Mr. Paradise's, where we dined
together at his own request. He was particularly civil to me, and
promised to call upon me the next time he should go through Birmingham.
He behaved with the same civility to Dr. Price, when they supped
together at Dr. Adams's at Oxford. Several circumstances show that Dr.
Johnson had not so much of bigotry at the decline of life as had
distinguished him before, on which account it is well known to all our
common acquaintance, that I declined all their pressing solicitations to
be introduced to him.'
Priestley expresses himself ill, but his meaning can be made out. Parr
answered Boswell in the March number of the _Gent. Mag._ for 1795, p.
179. But the evidence that he brings is rendered needless by Priestley's
positive statement. May peace henceforth fall on 'Priestley's injured
name.' (Mrs. Barbauld's _Poems_, ii. 243.)
When Boswell asserts that Johnson 'was particularly resolute in not
giving countenance to men whose writings he considered as pernicious to
society,' he forgets that that very summer of 1783 he had been willing
to dine at Wilkes's house (_ante_, p. 224, note 2).
Dr. Franklin (_Memoirs_, ed. 1833, iii. 157) wrote to Dr. Price in
1784:--'It is said that scarce anybody but yourself and Dr. Priestley
possesses the art of knowing how to differ decently.' Gibbon (_Misc.
Works_, i. 304), describing in 1789 the honestest members of the French
Assembly, calls them 'a set of wild visionaries, like our Dr. Price, who
gravely debate, and dream about the establishment of a pure and perfect
democracy of five and twenty millions, the virtues of the golden age,
and the primitive rights and equality of mankind.' Admiration of Price
made Samuel Rogers, when a boy, wish to be a preacher. 'I thought there
was nothing on earth so _grand_ as to figure in a pulpit. Dr. Price
lived much in the society of Lord Lansdowne [Earl of Shelburne] and
other people of rank; and his manners were extremely polished. In the
pulpit he was great indeed.' Rogers's _Table Talk_, p. 3.
The full title of the tract mentioned by Boswell is, _A small
Whole-Length of Dr. Priestley from his Printed Works_. It was published
in 1792, and is a very poor piece of writing.
Johnson had refused to meet the Abbe Raynal, the author of the _Histoire
Philosophique et Politique du Commerce des Deux Indes_, when he was
over in England in 1777. Mrs. Chapone, writing to Mrs. Carter on June 15
of that year, says:--
'I suppose you have heard a great deal of the Abbe Raynal, who is in
London. I fancy you would have served him as Dr. Johnson did, to whom
when Mrs. Vesey introduced him, he turned from him, and said he had read
his book, and would have nothing to say to him.' Mrs. Chapone's
_Posthumous Works_, i. 172.
See Walpole's _Letters_, v. 421, and vi. 444. His book was burnt by the
common hangman in Paris. Carlyle's _French Revolution_, ed. 1857, i. 45.
APPENDIX C.
(_Page 253_.)
Hawkins gives the two following notes:--
'DEAR SIR,
'As Mr. Ryland was talking with me of old friends and past times, we
warmed ourselves into a wish, that all who remained of the club should
meet and dine at the house which once was Horseman's, in Ivy-lane. I
have undertaken to solicit you, and therefore desire you to tell on what
day next week you can conveniently meet your old friends.
'I am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Bolt-court, Nov. 22, 1783.'
'DEAR SIR,
'In perambulating Ivy-lane, Mr. Ryland found neither our landlord
Horseman, nor his successor. The old house is shut up, and he liked not
the appearance of any near it; he therefore bespoke our dinner at the
Queen's Arms, in St. Paul's Church-yard, where, at half an hour after
three, your company will be desired to-day by those who remain of our
former society.
'Your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Dec. 3.'
Four met--Johnson, Hawkins, Ryland, and Payne (_ante_, i. 243).
'We dined,' Hawkins continues, 'and in the evening regaled with coffee.
At ten we broke up, much to the regret of Johnson, who proposed
staying; but finding us inclined to separate, he left us with a sigh
that seemed to come from his heart, lamenting that he was retiring to
solitude and cheerless meditation.' Hawkins's _Johnson_, p. 562.
Hawkins is mistaken in saying that they had a second meeting at a tavern
at the end of a month; for Johnson, on March 10, 1784, wrote:--
'I have been confined from the fourteenth of December, and know not when
I shall get out.' _Piozzi Letters_, ii. 351.
He thus describes these meetings:--
'Dec. 13. I dined about a fortnight ago with three old friends; we had
not met together for thirty years, and one of us thought the other grown
very old. In the thirty years two of our set have died; our meeting may
be supposed to be somewhat tender.' _Piozzi Letters_, ii. 339.
'Jan. 12, 1784. I had the same old friends to dine with me on Wednesday,
and may say that since I lost sight of you I have had one pleasant day.'
Ib. p. 346.
'April 15, 1784. Yesterday I had the pleasure of giving another dinner
to the remainder of the old club. We used to meet weekly, about the year
fifty, and we were as cheerful as in former times; only I could not make
quite so much noise, for since the paralytick affliction my voice is
sometimes weak.' Ib. p. 361.
'April 19, 1784. The people whom I mentioned in my letter are the
remnant of a little club that used to meet in Ivy-lane about three and
thirty years ago, out of which we have lost Hawkesworth and Dyer; the
rest are yet on this side the grave. Our meetings now are serious, and I
think on all parts tender.' Ib. 363.
See _ante_, i. 191, note 5.
APPENDIX D.
(_Page 254_.)
It is likely that Sir Joshua Reynolds refused to join the Essex Head
Club because he did not wish to meet Barry. Not long before this time he
had censured Barry's delay in entering upon his duties as Professor
of painting.
'Barry answered:--"If I had no more to do in the composition of my
lectures than to produce such poor flimsy stuff as your discourses, I
should soon have done my work, and be prepared to read." It is said this
speech was delivered with his fist clenched, in a menacing posture.'
(Northcote's _Life of Reynolds_, ii. 146.)
The Hon. Daines Barrington was the author of an _Essay on the Migration
of Birds_ (_ante_, ii. 248) and of _Observations on the Statutes_
(_ante_, iii. 314). Horace Walpole wrote on Nov. 24, 1780 (_Letters_,
vii. 464):--
'I am sorry for the Dean of Exeter; if he dies I conclude the leaden
mace of the Antiquarian Society will be given to Judge Barrington.' (He
was 'second Justice of Chester.')
For Dr. Brocklesby see _ante_, pp. 176, 230, 338, 400.