Life Of Johnson, Volume 4 (of 6) - Boswell
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After this day there was another pretty long interval, during which Dr.
Johnson and I did not meet. When I mentioned it to him with regret, he
was pleased to say, 'Then, Sir, let us live double.'
About this time it was much the fashion for several ladies to have
evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation
with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These
societies were denominated _Blue-stocking Clubs_, the origin of which
title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the
most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was
Mr. Stillingfleet[346], whose dress was remarkably grave, and in
particular it was observed, that he wore blue stockings[347]. Such was
the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so
great a loss, that it used to be said, 'We can do nothing without the
_blue stockings_;' and thus by degrees the title was established. Miss
Hannah More has admirably described a _Blue-stocking Club_, in her _Bas
Bleu_[348], a poem in which many of the persons who were most
conspicuous there are mentioned.
Johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these circles, and did
not think himself too grave even for the lively Miss Monckton[349] (now
Countess of Corke), who used to have the finest _bit of blue_ at the
house of her mother, Lady Galway. Her vivacity enchanted the Sage, and
they used to talk together with all imaginable ease. A singular instance
happened one evening, when she insisted that some of Sterne's writings
were very pathetick. Johnson bluntly denied it. 'I am sure (said she)
they have affected _me_.' 'Why (said Johnson, smiling, and rolling
himself about,) that is, because, dearest, you're a dunce[350].' When
she some time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said with equal truth
and politeness; 'Madam, if I had thought so, I certainly should not
have said it.'
Another evening Johnson's kind indulgence towards me had a pretty
difficult trial. I had dined at the Duke of Montrose's with a very
agreeable party, and his Grace, according to his usual custom, had
circulated the bottle very freely. Lord Graham[351] and I went together
to Miss Monckton's, where I certainly was in extraordinary spirits, and
above all fear or awe. In the midst of a great number of persons of the
first rank, amongst whom I recollect with confusion, a noble lady of the
most stately decorum, I placed myself next to Johnson, and thinking
myself now fully his match, talked to him in a loud and boisterous
manner, desirous to let the company know how I could contend with
_Ajax_. I particularly remember pressing him upon the value of the
pleasures of the imagination, and as an illustration of my argument,
asking him, 'What, Sir, supposing I were to fancy that the--(naming the
most charming Duchess in his Majesty's dominions) were in love with me,
should I not be very happy?' My friend with much address evaded my
interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as possible; but it may easily be
conceived how he must have felt[352]. However, when a few days
afterwards I waited upon him and made an apology, he behaved with the
most friendly gentleness[353].
While I remained in London this year[354], Johnson and I dined together
at several places. I recollect a placid day at Dr. Butter's[355], who
had now removed from Derby to Lower Grosvenor-street, London; but of his
conversation on that and other occasions during this period, I neglected
to keep any regular record[356], and shall therefore insert here some
miscellaneous articles which I find in my Johnsonian notes.
His disorderly habits, when 'making provision for the day that was
passing over him[357],' appear from the following anecdote, communicated
to me by Mr. John Nichols:--'In the year 1763, a young bookseller, who
was an apprentice to Mr. Whiston, waited on him with a subscription to
his _Shakspeare_: and observing that the Doctor made no entry in any
book of the subscriber's name, ventured diffidently to ask, whether he
would please to have the gentleman's address, that it might be properly
inserted in the printed list of subscribers. '_I shall print no list of
subscribers_;' said Johnson, with great abruptness: but almost
immediately recollecting himself, added, very complacently, 'Sir, I have
two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers;--one,
that I have lost all the names,--the other, that I have spent all
the money.'
Johnson could not brook appearing to be worsted in argument, even when
he had taken the wrong side, to shew the force and dexterity of his
talents. When, therefore, he perceived that his opponent gained ground,
he had recourse to some sudden mode of robust sophistry. Once when I was
pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me thus:--'My dear
Boswell, let's have no more of this; you'll make nothing of it. I'd
rather have you whistle a Scotch tune.'
Care, however, must be taken to distinguish between Johnson when he
'talked for victory[358],' and Johnson when he had no desire but to
inform and illustrate. 'One of Johnson's principal talents (says an
eminent friend of his)[359] was shewn in maintaining the wrong side of
an argument, and in a splendid perversion of the truth. If you could
contrive to have his fair opinion on a subject, and without any bias
from personal prejudice, or from a wish to be victorious in argument, it
was wisdom itself, not only convincing, but overpowering.'
He had, however, all his life habituated himself to consider
conversation as a trial of intellectual vigour and skill[360]; and to
this, I think, we may venture to ascribe that unexampled richness and
brilliancy which appeared in his own. As a proof at once of his
eagerness for colloquial distinction, and his high notion of this
eminent friend, he once addressed him thus:-'----, we now have been
several hours together; and you have said but one thing for which I
envied you.'
He disliked much all speculative desponding considerations, which tended
to discourage men from diligence and exertion. He was in this like Dr.
Shaw, the great traveller[361], who Mr. Daines Barrington[362] told me,
used to say, 'I hate a _cui bono_ man.' Upon being asked by a
friend[363] what he should think of a man who was apt to say _non est
tanti_;-'That he's a stupid fellow, Sir; (answered Johnson): What would
these _tanti_ men be doing the while?' When I in a low-spirited fit, was
talking to him with indifference of the pursuits which generally engage
us in a course of action, and inquiring a _reason_ for taking so much
trouble; 'Sir (said he, in an animated tone) it is driving on the
system of life.'
He told me, that he was glad that I had, by General Oglethorpe's means,
become acquainted with Dr. Shebbeare. Indeed that gentleman, whatever
objections were made to him, had knowledge and abilities much above the
class of ordinary writers, and deserves to be remembered as a
respectable name in literature, were it only for his admirable _Letters
on the English Nation_, under the name of 'Battista Angeloni, a
Jesuit[364].'
Johnson and Shebbeare[365] were frequently named together, as having in
former reigns had no predilection for the family of Hanover. The authour
of the celebrated _Heroick Epistle to Sir William Chambers_, introduces
them in one line, in a list of those 'who tasted the sweets of his
present Majesty's reign[366].' Such was Johnson's candid relish of the
merit of that satire, that he allowed Dr. Goldsmith, as he told me, to
read it to him from beginning to end, and did not refuse his praise to
its execution[367].
Goldsmith could sometimes take adventurous liberties with him, and
escape unpunished. Beauclerk told me that when Goldsmith talked of a
project for having a third Theatre in London, solely for the exhibition
of new plays, in order to deliver authours from the supposed tyranny of
managers, Johnson treated it slightingly; upon which Goldsmith said,
'Ay, ay, this may be nothing to you, who can now shelter yourself behind
the corner of a pension;' and that Johnson bore this with good-humour.
Johnson praised the Earl of Carlisle's Poems[368], which his Lordship
had published with his name, as not disdaining to be a candidate for
literary fame. My friend was of opinion, that when a man of rank
appeared in that character, he deserved to have his merit handsomely
allowed[369]. In this I think he was more liberal than Mr. William
Whitehead[370], in his _Elegy to Lord Villiers_, in which under the
pretext of 'superiour toils, demanding all their care,' he discovers a
jealousy of the great paying their court to the Muses:--
'------to the chosen few
Who dare excel, thy fost'ring aid afford,
Their arts, their magick powers, with honours due
Exalt;--but be thyself what they record[371].'
Johnson had called twice on the Bishop of Killaloe[372] before his
Lordship set out for Ireland, having missed him the first time. He said,
'It would have hung heavy on my heart if I had not seen him. No man ever
paid more attention to another than he has done to me[373]; and I have
neglected him, not wilfully, but from being otherwise occupied. Always,
Sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. He whose inclination
prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his own accord, will love
you more than one whom you have been at pains to attach to you.'
Johnson told me, that he was once much pleased to find that a
carpenter, who lived near him, was very ready to shew him some things in
his business which he wished to see: 'It was paying (said he) respect to
literature.'
I asked him if he was not dissatisfied with having so small a share of
wealth, and none of those distinctions in the state which are the
objects of ambition. He had only a pension of three hundred a year. Why
was he not in such circumstances as to keep his coach? Why had he not
some considerable office? JOHNSON, 'Sir, I have never complained of the
world[374]; nor do I think that I have reason to complain. It is rather
to be wondered at that I have so much. My pension is more out of the
usual course of things than any instance that I have known. Here, Sir,
was a man avowedly no friend to Government at the time, who got a
pension without asking for it. I never courted the great; they sent for
me; but I think they now give me up. They are satisfied; they have seen
enough of me.' Upon my observing that I could not believe this, for they
must certainly be highly pleased by his conversation; conscious of his
own superiority, he answered, 'No, Sir; great lords and great ladies
don't love to have their mouths stopped[375].' This was very expressive
of the effect which the force of his understanding and brilliancy of his
fancy could not but produce; and, to be sure, they must have found
themselves strangely diminished in his company. When I warmly declared
how happy I was at all times to hear him;--'Yes, Sir, (said he); but if
you were Lord Chancellor, it would not be so: you would then consider
your own dignity.'
There was much truth and knowledge of human nature in this remark. But
certainly one should think, that in whatever elevated state of life a
man who _knew_ the value of the conversation of Johnson might be placed,
though he might prudently avoid a situation in which he might appear
lessened by comparison; yet he would frequently gratify himself in
private with the participation of the rich intellectual entertainment
which Johnson could furnish. Strange, however, it is, to consider how
few of the great sought his society[376]; so that if one were disposed
to take occasion for satire on that account, very conspicuous objects
present themselves. His noble friend, Lord Elibank, well observed, that
if a great man procured an interview with Johnson, and did not wish to
see him more, it shewed a mere idle curiosity, and a wretched want of
relish for extraordinary powers of mind[377]. Mrs. Thrale justly and
wittily accounted for such conduct by saying, that Johnson's
conversation was by much too strong for a person accustomed to
obsequiousness and flattery; it was _mustard in a young child's mouth!_
One day, when I told him that I was a zealous Tory, but not enough
'according to knowledge[378],' and should be obliged to him for 'a
reason[379],' he was so candid, and expressed himself so well, that I
begged of him to repeat what he had said, and I wrote down as follows:--
OF TORY AND WHIG.
'A wise Tory and a wise Whig, I believe, will agree[380]. Their
principles are the same, though their modes of thinking are different. A
high Tory makes government unintelligible: it is lost in the clouds. A
violent Whig makes it impracticable: he is for allowing so much liberty
to every man, that there is not power enough to govern any man. The
prejudice of the Tory is for establishment; the prejudice of the Whig is
for innovation. A Tory does not wish to give more real power to
Government; but that Government should have more reverence. Then they
differ as to the Church. The Tory is not for giving more legal power to
the Clergy, but wishes they should have a considerable influence,
founded on the opinion of mankind; the Whig is for limiting and watching
them with a narrow jealousy.'
To MR. PERKINS.
'SIR,
However often I have seen you, I have hitherto forgotten the note, but I
have now sent it: with my good wishes for the prosperity of you and your
partner[381], of whom, from our short conversation, I could not judge
otherwise than favourably.
I am, Sir,
Your most humble servant,
SAM. JOHNSON.
June 2, 1781.'
On Saturday, June 2, I set out for Scotland, and had promised to pay a
visit in my way, as I sometimes did, at Southill, in Bedfordshire, at
the hospitable mansion of 'Squire Dilly, the elder brother of my worthy
friends, the booksellers, in the Poultry. Dr. Johnson agreed to be of
the party this year, with Mr. Charles Dilly and me, and to go and see
Lord Bute's seat at Luton Hoe. He talked little to us in the carriage,
being chiefly occupied in reading Dr. Watson's[382] second volume of
_Chemical Essays_[383], which he liked very well, and his own _Prince
of Abyssinia_, on which he seemed to be intensely fixed; having told us,
that he had not looked at it since it was first published. I happened to
take it out of my pocket this day, and he seized upon it with avidity.
He pointed out to me the following remarkable passage[384]:--
'By what means (said the prince) are the Europeans thus powerful; or
why, since they can so easily visit Asia and Africa for trade or
conquest, cannot the Asiaticks and Africans invade their coasts, plant
colonies in their ports, and give laws to their natural princes? The
same wind that carries them back would bring us thither.' 'They are more
powerful, Sir, than we, (answered Imlac,) because they are wiser.
Knowledge will always predominate over ignorance, as man governs the
other animals. But why their knowledge is more than ours, I know not
what reason can be given, but the unsearchable will of the
Supreme Being.'
He said, 'This, Sir, no man can explain otherwise.'
We stopped at Welwyn, where I wished much to see, in company with Dr.
Johnson, the residence of the authour of _Night Thoughts_, which was
then possessed by his son, Mr. Young. Here some address was requisite,
for I was not acquainted with Mr. Young, and had I proposed to Dr.
Johnson that we should send to him, he would have checked my wish, and
perhaps been offended. I therefore concerted with Mr. Dilly, that I
should steal away from Dr. Johnson and him, and try what reception I
could procure from Mr. Young; if unfavourable, nothing was to be said;
but if agreeable, I should return and notify it to them. I hastened to
Mr. Young's, found he was at home, sent in word that a gentleman desired
to wait upon him, and was shewn into a parlour, where he and a young
lady, his daughter, were sitting. He appeared to be a plain, civil,
country gentleman; and when I begged pardon for presuming to trouble
him, but that I wished much to see his place, if he would give me leave;
he behaved very courteously, and answered, 'By all means, Sir; we are
just going to drink tea; will you sit down?' I thanked him, but said,
that Dr. Johnson had come with me from London, and I must return to the
inn and drink tea with him; that my name was Boswell, I had travelled
with him in the Hebrides. 'Sir, (said he) I should think it a great
honour to see Dr. Johnson here. Will you allow me to send for him?'
Availing myself of this opening, I said that 'I would go myself and
bring him, when he had drunk tea; he knew nothing of my calling here.'
Having been thus successful, I hastened back to the inn, and informed
Dr. Johnson that 'Mr. Young, son of Dr. Young, the authour of _Night
Thoughts_, whom I had just left, desired to have the honour of seeing
him at the house where his father lived.' Dr. Johnson luckily made no
inquiry how this invitation had arisen, but agreed to go, and when we
entered Mr. Young's parlour, he addressed him with a very polite bow,
'Sir, I had a curiosity to come and see this place. I had the honour to
know that great man[385], your father.' We went into the garden, where
we found a gravel walk, on each side of which was a row of trees,
planted by Dr. Young, which formed a handsome Gothick arch; Dr. Johnson
called it a fine grove. I beheld it with reverence.
We sat some time in the summer-house, on the outside wall of which was
inscribed, _'Ambulantes in horto audiebant vocem Dei_[386];' and in
reference to a brook by which it is situated, _'Vivendi recte qui
prorogat horam_[387],' &c. I said to Mr. Young, that I had been told his
father was cheerful[388]. 'Sir, (said he) he was too well-bred a man not
to be cheerful in company; but he was gloomy when alone. He never was
cheerful after my mother's death, and he had met with many
disappointments.' Dr. Johnson observed to me afterwards, 'That this was
no favourable account of Dr. Young; for it is not becoming in a man to
have so little acquiescence in the ways of Providence, as to be gloomy
because he has not obtained as much preferment as he expected[389]; nor
to continue gloomy for the loss of his wife. Grief has its time[390].'
The last part of this censure was theoretically made. Practically, we
know that grief for the loss of a wife may be continued very long, in
proportion as affection has been sincere. No man knew this better than
Dr. Johnson.
We went into the church, and looked at the monument erected by Mr. Young
to his father. Mr. Young mentioned an anecdote, that his father had
received several thousand pounds of subscription-money for his
_Universal Passion_, but had lost it in the South-Sea[391]. Dr. Johnson
thought this must be a mistake; for he had never seen a
subscription-book.
Upon the road we talked of the uncertainty of profit with which authours
and booksellers engage in the publication of literary works. JOHNSON.
'My judgement I have found is no certain rule as to the sale of a book.'
BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, have you been much plagued with authours sending
you their works to revise?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I have been thought a
sour, surly fellow.' BOSWELL. 'Very lucky for you, Sir,--in that
respect.' I must however observe, that notwithstanding what he now said,
which he no doubt imagined at the time to be the fact, there was,
perhaps, no man who more frequently yielded to the solicitations even of
very obscure authours, to read their manuscripts, or more liberally
assisted them with advice and correction[392].
He found himself very happy at 'Squire Dilly's, where there is always
abundance of excellent fare, and hearty welcome.
On Sunday, June 3, we all went to Southill church, which is very near to
Mr. Dilly's house. It being the first Sunday of the month, the holy
sacrament was administered, and I staid to partake of it. When I came
afterwards into Dr. Johnson's room, he said, 'You did right to stay and
receive the communion; I had not thought of it.' This seemed to imply
that he did not choose to approach the altar without a previous
preparation, as to which good men entertain different opinions, some
holding that it is irreverent to partake of that ordinance without
considerable premeditation; others, that whoever is a sincere Christian,
and in a proper frame of mind to discharge any other ritual duty of our
religion, may, without scruple, discharge this most solemn one. A middle
notion I believe to be the just one, which is, that communicants need
not think a long train of preparatory forms indispensibly necessary; but
neither should they rashly and lightly venture upon so aweful and
mysterious an institution. Christians must judge each for himself, what
degree of retirement and self-examination is necessary upon
each occasion.
Being in a frame of mind which, I hope for the felicity of human nature,
many experience,--in fine weather,--at the country house of a
friend,--consoled and elevated by pious exercises,--I expressed myself
with an unrestrained fervour to my 'Guide, Philosopher, and
Friend[393];' 'My dear Sir, I would fain be a good man; and I am very
good now[394]. I fear GOD, and honour the King, I wish to do no ill, and
to be benevolent to all mankind.' He looked at me with a benignant
indulgence; but took occasion to give me wise and salutary caution. 'Do
not, Sir, accustom yourself to trust to _impressions_. There is a middle
state of mind between conviction and hypocrisy, of which many are
conscious[395]. By trusting to impressions, a man may gradually come to
yield to them, and at length be subject to them, so as not to be a free
agent, or what is the same thing in effect, to _suppose_ that he is not
a free agent. A man who is in that state, should not be suffered to
live; if he declares he cannot help acting in a particular way, and is
irresistibly impelled, there can be no confidence in him, no more than
in a tyger. But, Sir, no man believes himself to be impelled
irresistibly; we know that he who says he believes it, lies. Favourable
impressions at particular moments, as to the state of our souls, may be
deceitful and dangerous. In general no man can be sure of his acceptance
with God; some, indeed, may have had it revealed to them. St. Paul, who
wrought miracles, may have had a miracle wrought on himself, and may
have obtained supernatural assurance of pardon, and mercy, and
beatitude; yet St. Paul, though he expresses strong hope, also expresses
fear, lest having preached to others, he himself should be a
cast-away[396].'
The opinion of a learned Bishop of our acquaintance, as to there being
merit in religious faith, being mentioned;--JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir, the
most licentious man, were hell open before him, would not take the most
beautiful strumpet to his arms. We must, as the Apostle says, live by
faith, not by sight[397].'
I talked to him of original sin[398], in consequence of the fall of man,
and of the atonement made by our SAVIOUR. After some conversation, which
he desired me to remember, he, at my request, dictated to me as
follows:--
'With respect to original sin, the inquiry is not necessary; for
whatever is the cause of human corruption, men are evidently and
confessedly so corrupt, that all the laws of heaven and earth are
insufficient to restrain them from crimes.
'Whatever difficulty there may be in the conception of vicarious
punishments, it is an opinion which has had possession of mankind in all
ages. There is no nation that has not used the practice of sacrifices.
Whoever, therefore, denies the propriety of vicarious punishments, holds
an opinion which the sentiments and practice of mankind have
contradicted, from the beginning of the world. The great sacrifice for
the sins of mankind was offered at the death of the MESSIAH, who is
called in scripture "The Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins[399] of
the world." To judge of the reasonableness of the scheme of redemption,
it must be considered as necessary to the government of the universe,
that GOD should make known his perpetual and irreconcileable detestation
of moral evil. He might indeed punish, and punish only the offenders;
but as the end of punishment is not revenge of crimes, but propagation
of virtue, it was more becoming the Divine clemency to find another
manner of proceeding, less destructive to man, and at least equally
powerful to promote goodness. The end of punishment is to reclaim and
warn. _That_ punishment will both reclaim and warn, which shews
evidently such abhorrence of sin in GOD, as may deter us from it, or
strike us with dread of vengeance when we have committed it. This is
effected by vicarious punishment. Nothing could more testify the
opposition between the nature of GOD and moral evil, or more amply
display his justice, to men and angels, to all orders and successions of
beings, than that it was necessary for the highest and purest nature,
even for DIVINITY itself, to pacify the demands of vengeance, by a
painful death; of which the natural effect will be, that when justice is
appeased, there is a proper place for the exercise of mercy; and that
such propitiation shall supply, in some degree, the imperfections of our
obedience, and the inefficacy of our repentance: for, obedience and
repentance, such as we can perform, are still necessary. Our SAVIOUR has
told us, that he did not come to destroy the law, but to fulfill; to
fulfill the typical law, by the performance of what those types had
foreshewn; and the moral law, by precepts of greater purity and higher
exaltation.'