This brought on a question whether one man is lessened by another’s acquiring an equal degree of knowledge with him[644]. Johnson asserted the affirmative. I maintained that the position might be true in those kinds of knowledge which produce wisdom, power, and force, so as to enable one man to have the government of others; but that a man is not in any degree lessened by others knowing as well as he what ends in mere pleasure:–eating fine fruits, drinking delicious wines, reading exquisite poetry.
The General observed, that Martinelli was a Whig. JOHNSON. ‘I am sorry for it. It shows the spirit of the times: he is obliged to temporise.’ BOSWELL. ‘I rather think, Sir, that Toryism prevails in this reign.’ JOHNSON. ‘I know not why you should think so, Sir. You see your friend Lord Lyttelton[645], a nobleman, is obliged in his _History_ to write the most vulgar Whiggism.’
An animated debate took place whether Martinelli should continue his _History of England_ to the present day. GOLDSMITH. ‘To be sure he should.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir; he would give great offence. He would have to tell of almost all the living great what they do not wish told.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘It may, perhaps, be necessary for a native to be more cautious; but a foreigner who comes among us without prejudice, may be considered as holding the place of a Judge, and may speak his mind freely.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, a foreigner, when he sends a work from the press, ought to be on his guard against catching the errour and mistaken enthusiasm of the people among whom he happens to be.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘Sir, he wants only to sell his history, and to tell truth; one an honest, the other a laudable motive.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, they are both laudable motives. It is laudable in a man to wish to live by his labours; but he should write so as he may _live_ by them, not so as he may be knocked on the head. I would advise him to be at Calais before he publishes his history of the present age. A foreigner who attaches himself to a political party in this country, is in the worst state that can be imagined: he is looked upon as a mere intermeddler. A native may do it from interest.’ BOSWELL. ‘Or principle.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘There are people who tell a hundred political lies every day, and are not hurt by it. Surely, then, one may tell truth with safety.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, in the first place, he who tells a hundred lies has disarmed the force of his lies[646]. But besides; a man had rather have a hundred lies told of him, than one truth which he does not wish should be told.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘For my part, I’d tell truth, and shame the devil.’ JOHNSON. ‘Yes, Sir; but the devil will be angry. I wish to shame the devil as much you do, but I should choose to be out of the reach of his claws.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘His claws can do you no harm, when you have the shield of truth.’
It having been observed that there was little hospitality in London;–JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, any man who has a name, or who has the power of pleasing, will be very generally invited in London. The man, Sterne, I have been told, has had engagements for three months[647].’ GOLDSMITH. ‘And a very dull fellow.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, no, Sir[648].’
Martinelli told us, that for several years he lived much with Charles Townshend, and that he ventured to tell him he was a bad joker. JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, thus much I can say upon the subject. One day he and a few more agreed to go and dine in the country, and each of them was to bring a friend in his carriage with him. Charles Townshend asked Fitzherbert to go with him, but told him, ‘You must find somebody to bring you back: I can only carry you there.’ Fitzherbert did not much like this arrangement. He however consented, observing sarcastically, ‘It will do very well; for then the same jokes will serve you in returning as in going[649].’
An eminent publick character[650] being mentioned;–JOHNSON. ‘I remember being present when he shewed himself to be so corrupted, or at least something so different from what I think right, as to maintain, that a member of parliament should go along with his party right or wrong. Now, Sir, this is so remote from native virtue, from scholastick virtue, that a good man must have undergone a great change before he can reconcile himself to such a doctrine. It is maintaining that you may lie to the publick; for you lie when you call that right which you think wrong, or the reverse[651]. A friend of ours, who is too much an echo of that gentleman, observed, that a man who does not stick uniformly to a party, is only waiting to be bought. Why then, said I, he is only waiting to be what that gentleman is already.’
We talked of the King’s coming to see Goldsmith’s new play.–‘I wish he would[652],’ said Goldsmith; adding, however, with an affected indifference, ‘Not that it would do me the least good.’ JOHNSON. ‘Well then, Sir, let us say it would do _him_ good, (laughing). No, Sir, this affectation will not pass;–it is mighty idle. In such a state as ours, who would not wish to please the Chief Magistrate?’ GOLDSMITH. ‘I _do_ wish to please him. I remember a line in Dryden,–
“And every poet is the monarch’s friend.”
It ought to be reversed.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, there are finer lines in Dryden on this subject:–
“For colleges on bounteous Kings depend, And never rebel was to arts a friend[653].”‘
General Paoli observed, that ‘successful rebels might[654].’ MARTINELLI. ‘Happy rebellions.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘We have no such phrase.’ GENERAL PAOLI. ‘But have you not the _thing_?’ GOLDSMITH. ‘Yes; all our _happy_ revolutions. They have hurt our constitution, and will hurt it, till we mend it by another HAPPY REVOLUTION.’ I never before discovered that my friend Goldsmith had so much of the old prejudice in him.
General Paoli, talking of Goldsmith’s new play, said, ‘Il a fait un compliment tres gracieux a une certaine grande dame;’ meaning a Duchess of the first rank[655].
I expressed a doubt whether Goldsmith intended it, in order that I might hear the truth from himself. It, perhaps, was not quite fair to endeavour to bring him to a confession, as he might not wish to avow positively his taking part against the Court. He smiled and hesitated. The General at once relieved him, by this beautiful image: ‘_Monsieur Goldsmith est comme la mer, qui jette des perles et beau-coup d’autres belle choses, sans s’en appercevoir_.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘_Tres bien dit et tres elegamment_.’
A person was mentioned, who it was said could take down in short hand the speeches in parliament with perfect exactness. JOHNSON. ‘Sir, it is impossible. I remember one, Angel, who came to me to write for him a Preface or Dedication to a book upon short hand[656], and he professed to write as fast as a man could speak. In order to try him, I took down a book, and read while he wrote; and I favoured him, for I read more deliberately than usual. I had proceeded but a very little way, when he begged I would desist, for he could not follow me[657].’ Hearing now for the first time of this Preface or Dedication, I said, ‘What an expense, Sir, do you put us to in buying books, to which you have written Prefaces or Dedications.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why I have dedicated to the Royal family all round; that is to say, to the last generation of the Royal family[658].’ GOLDSMITH. ‘And perhaps, Sir, not one sentence of wit in a whole Dedication.’ JOHNSON. ‘Perhaps not, Sir.’ BOSWELL. ‘What then is the reason for applying to a particular person to do that which any one may do as well?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, one man has greater readiness at doing it than another.’
I spoke of Mr. Harris[659], of Salisbury, as being a very learned man, and in particular an eminent Grecian. JOHNSON. ‘I am not sure of that. His friends give him out as such, but I know not who of his friends are able to judge of it.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘He is what is much better: he is a worthy humane man.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, that is not to the purpose of our argument[660]: that will as much prove that he can play upon the fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘The greatest musical performers have but small emoluments. Giardini, I am told, does not get above seven hundred a year.’ JOHNSON. ‘That is indeed but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour to do. There is nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can do something at first. Any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a fiddle-stick, and he can do nothing.’
On Monday, April 19, he called on me with Mrs. Williams, in Mr. Strahan’s coach, and carried me out to dine with Mr. Elphinston[661], at his academy at Kensington. A printer having acquired a fortune sufficient to keep his coach, was a good topick for the credit of literature[662]. Mrs. Williams said, that another printer, Mr. Hamilton, had not waited so long as Mr. Strahan, but had kept his coach several years sooner[663]. JOHNSON. ‘He was in the right. Life is short. The sooner that a man begins to enjoy his wealth the better.’
Mr. Elphinston talked of a new book that was much admired, and asked Dr. Johnson if he had read it. JOHNSON. ‘I have looked into it.’ ‘What (said Elphinston,) have you not read it through?’ Johnson, offended at being thus pressed, and so obliged to own his cursory mode of reading, answered tartly, ‘No, Sir, do _you_ read books _through_[664]?’
He this day again defended duelling[665], and put his argument upon what I have ever thought the most solid basis; that if publick war be allowed to be consistent with morality, private war must be equally so. Indeed we may observe what strained arguments are used, to reconcile war with the Christian religion. But, in my opinion, it is exceedingly clear that duelling, having better reasons for its barbarous violence, is more justifiable than war, in which thousands go forth without any cause of personal quarrel, and massacre each other.
On Wednesday, April 21, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale’s. A gentleman[666] attacked Garrick for being vain. JOHNSON. ‘No wonder, Sir, that he is vain; a man who is perpetually flattered in every mode that can be conceived. So many bellows have blown the fire, that one wonders he is not by this time become a cinder.’ BOSWELL. ‘And such bellows too. Lord Mansfield with his cheeks like to burst: Lord Chatham like an AEolus. I have read such notes from them to him, as were enough to turn his head[667].’ JOHNSON. ‘True. When he whom every body else flatters, flatters me, I then am truely happy.’ MRS. THRALE. ‘The sentiment is in Congreve, I think.’ JOHNSON. ‘Yes, Madam, in _The Way of the World_:
“If there’s delight in love, ’tis when I see That heart which others bleed for, bleed for me[668].”
‘No, Sir, I should not be surprised though Garrick chained the ocean, and lashed the winds.’ BOSWELL. ‘Should it not be, Sir, lashed the ocean and chained the winds?’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir, recollect the original:
“In Corum atque Eurum solitus saevire flagellis Barbarus, AEolio nunquam hoc in carcere passos, Ipsum compedibus qui viscxerat Ennosigoeum[669].”
‘This does very well, when both the winds and the sea are personified, and mentioned by their mythological names, as in Juvenal; but when they are mentioned in plain language, the application of the epithets suggested by me, is the most obvious; and accordingly my friend himself, in his imitation of the passage which describes Xerxes, has
“The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind.”‘
The modes of living in different countries, and the various views with which men travel in quest of new scenes, having been talked of, a learned gentleman[670] who holds a considerable office in the law, expatiated on the happiness of a savage life[671]; and mentioned an instance of an officer who had actually lived for some time in the wilds of America, of whom, when in that state, he quoted this reflection with an air of admiration, as if it had been deeply philosophical: ‘Here am I, free and unrestrained, amidst the rude magnificence of Nature, with this Indian woman by my side, and this gun with which I can procure food when I want it: what more can be desired for human happiness?’ It did not require much sagacity to foresee that such a sentiment would not be permitted to pass without due animadversion. JOHNSON. ‘Do not allow yourself, Sir, to be imposed upon by such gross absurdity. It is sad stuff; it is brutish. If a bull could speak, he might as well exclaim,–Here am I with this cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?’
We talked of the melancholy end of a gentleman[672] who had destroyed himself. JOHNSON. ‘It was owing to imaginary difficulties in his affairs, which, had he talked with any friend, would soon have vanished.’ BOSWELL. ‘Do you think, Sir, that all who commit suicide are mad?’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, they are often not universally disordered in their intellects, but one passion presses so upon them, that they yield to it, and commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another.’ He added, ‘I have often thought, that after a man has taken the resolution to kill himself, it is not courage in him to do any thing, however desperate, because he has nothing to fear.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘I don’t see that.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, but my dear Sir, why should not you see what every one else sees?’ GOLDSMITH. ‘It is for fear of something that he has resolved to kill himself; and will not that timid disposition restrain him?’ JOHNSON. ‘It does not signify that the fear of something made him resolve; it is upon the state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, that I argue. Suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or whatever motive, has resolved to kill himself; when once the resolution is taken, he has nothing to fear. He may then go and take the King of Prussia by the nose, at the head of his army. He cannot fear the rack, who is resolved to kill himself. When Eustace Budgel[673] was walking down to the Thames, determined to drown himself, he might, if he pleased, without any apprehension of danger, have turned aside, and first set fire to St. James’s palace.’
On Tuesday, April 27, Mr. Beauclerk and I called on him in the morning. As we walked up Johnson’s-court, I said, ‘I have a veneration for this court;’ and was glad to find that Beauclerk had the same reverential enthusiasm[674]. We found him alone. We talked of Mr. Andrew Stuart’s elegant and plausible Letters to Lord Mansfield[675]: a copy of which had been sent by the authour to Dr. Johnson. JOHNSON. ‘They have not answered the end. They have not been talked of; I have never heard of them. This is owing to their not being sold. People seldom read a book which is given to them; and few are given. The way to spread a work is to sell it at a low price. No man will send to buy a thing that costs even sixpence, without an intention to read it.’ BOSWELL. ‘May it not be doubted, Sir, whether it be proper to publish letters, arraigning the ultimate decision of an important cause by the supreme judicature of the nation?’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir, I do not think it was wrong to publish these letters. If they are thought to do harm, why not answer them? But they will do no harm; if Mr. Douglas be indeed the son of Lady Jane, he cannot be hurt: if he be not her son, and yet has the great estate of the family of Douglas, he may well submit to have a pamphlet against him by Andrew Stuart. Sir, I think such a publication does good, as it does good to show us the possibilities of human life. And Sir, you will not say that the Douglas cause was a cause of easy decision, when it divided your Court as much as it could do, to be determined at all. When your Judges were seven and seven, the casting vote of the President must be given on one side or other: no matter, for my argument, on which; one or the other _must_ be taken: as when I am to move, there is no matter which leg I move first. And then, Sir, it was otherwise determined here. No, Sir, a more dubious determination of any question cannot be imagined[676].’
He said, ‘Goldsmith should not be for ever attempting to shine in conversation: he has not temper for it, he is so much mortified when he fails. Sir, a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of chance, a man may be beat at times by one who has not the tenth part of his wit. Now Goldsmith’s putting himself against another, is like a man laying a hundred to one who cannot spare the hundred. It is not worth a man’s while. A man should not lay a hundred to one, unless he can easily spare it, though he has a hundred chances for him: he can get but a guinea, and he may lose a hundred. Goldsmith is in this state. When he contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addition to a man of his literary reputation: if he does not get the better, he is miserably vexed.’
Johnson’s own superlative powers of wit set him above any risk of such uneasiness. Garrick had remarked to me of him, a few days before, ‘Rabelais and all other wits are nothing compared with him. You may be diverted by them; but Johnson gives you a forcible hug, and shakes laughter out of you, whether you will or no.’
Goldsmith, however, was often very fortunate in his witty contests, even when he entered the lists with Johnson himself. Sir Joshua Reynolds was in company with them one day, when Goldsmith said, that he thought he could write a good fable, mentioned the simplicity which that kind of composition requires, and observed, that in most fables the animals introduced seldom talk in character. ‘For instance, (said he,) the fable of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and envying them, petitioned Jupiter to be changed into birds. The skill (continued he,) consists in making them talk like little fishes.’ While he indulged himself in this fanciful reverie, he observed Johnson shaking his sides, and laughing. Upon which he smartly proceeded, ‘Why, Dr. Johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like WHALES.’
Johnson, though remarkable for his great variety of composition, never exercised his talents in fable, except we allow his beautiful tale[677] published in Mrs. Williams’s _Miscellanies_[678] to be of that species. I have, however, found among his manuscript collections the following sketch of one:
‘Glow-worm[679] lying in the garden saw a candle in a neighbouring palace,–and complained of the littleness of his own light;–another observed–wait a little;–soon dark,–have outlasted [Greek: poll] [_many_] of these glaring lights which are only brighter as they haste to nothing.’
On Thursday, April 29, I dined with him at General Oglethorpe’s, where were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. Thrale. I was very desirous to get Dr. Johnson absolutely fixed in his resolution to go with me to the Hebrides this year; and I told him that I had received a letter from Dr. Robertson the historian, upon the subject, with which he was much pleased; and now talked in such a manner of his long-intended tour, that I was satisfied he meant to fulfil his engagement.
The custom of eating dogs at Otaheite being mentioned, Goldsmith observed, that this was also a custom in China; that a dog-butcher is as common there as any other butcher; and that when he walks abroad all the dogs fall on him. JOHNSON. ‘That is not owing to his killing dogs, Sir. I remember a butcher at Lichfield, whom a dog that was in the house where I lived, always attacked. It is the smell of carnage which provokes this, let the animals he has killed be what they may.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘Yes, there is a general abhorrence in animals at the signs of massacre. If you put a tub full of blood into a stable, the horses are like to go mad.’ JOHNSON. ‘I doubt that.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘Nay, Sir, it is a fact well authenticated.’ THRALE. ‘You had better prove it before you put it into your book on natural history. You may do it in my stable if you will.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, I would not have him prove it. If he is content to take his information from others, he may get through his book with little trouble, and without much endangering his reputation. But if he makes experiments for so comprehensive a book as his, there would be no end to them: his erroneous assertions would then fall upon himself, and he might be blamed for not having made experiments as to every particular.’
The character of Mallet having been introduced, and spoken of slightingly by Goldsmith; JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, Mallet had talents enough to keep his literary reputation alive as long as he himself lived[680]; and that, let me tell you, is a good deal.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘But I cannot agree that it was so. His literary reputation was dead long before his natural death. I consider an authour’s literary reputation to be alive only while his name will ensure a good price for his copy from the booksellers. I will get you (to Johnson,) a hundred guineas for any thing whatever that you shall write, if you put your name to it[681].’
Dr. Goldmith’s new play, _She Stoops to Conquer_, being mentioned; JOHNSON. ‘I know of no comedy for many years that has so much exhilarated an audience, that has answered so much the great end of comedy–making an audience merry[682].’
Goldsmith having said, that Garrick’s compliment to the Queen, which he introduced into the play of _The Chances_[683], which he had altered and revised this year, was mean and gross flattery;–JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, I would not _write_, I would not give solemnly under my hand, a character beyond what I thought really true; but a speech on the stage, let it flatter ever so extravagantly, is formular[684]. It has always been formular to flatter Kings and Queens; so much so, that even in our church-service we have “our most religious King,” used indiscriminately, whoever is King. Nay, they even flatter themselves;–“we have been graciously pleased to grant.” No modern flattery, however, is so gross as that of the Augustan age, where the Emperour was deified. “_Praesens Divus habebitur Augustus_[685].” And as to meanness, (rising into warmth,) how is it mean in a player,–a showman,–a fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling, to flatter his Queen[686]? The attempt, indeed, was dangerous; for if it had missed, what became of Garrick, and what became of the Queen? As Sir William Temple says of a great General, it is necessary not only that his designs be formed in a masterly manner, but that they should be attended with success[687]. Sir, it is right, at a time when the Royal Family is not generally liked[688], to let it be seen that the people like at least one of them.’ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘I do not perceive why the profession of a player should be despised[689]; for the great and ultimate end of all the employments of mankind is to produce amusement. Garrick produces more amusement than any body.’ BOSWELL. ‘You say, Dr. Johnson, that Garrick exhibits himself for a shilling. In this respect he is only on a footing with a lawyer who exhibits himself for his fee, and even will maintain any nonsense or absurdity, if the case requires it. Garrick refuses a play or a part which he does not like; a lawyer never refuses.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, what does this prove? only that a lawyer is worse. Boswell is now like Jack in _The Tale of a Tub_[690], who, when he is puzzled by an argument, hangs himself. He thinks I shall cut him down, but I’ll let him hang’ (laughing vociferously). SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘Mr. Boswell thinks that the profession of a lawyer being unquestionably honourable, if he can show the profession of a player to be more honourable, he proves his argument.’
On Friday, April 30, I dined with him at Mr. Beauclerk’s, where were Lord Charlemont, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and some more members of the LITERARY CLUB, whom he had obligingly invited to meet me, as I was this evening to be balloted for as candidate for admission into that distinguished society. Johnson had done me the honour to propose me[691], and Beauclerk was very zealous for me.
Goldsmith being mentioned; JOHNSON. ‘It is amazing how little Goldsmith knows. He seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any one else.’ SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. ‘Yet there is no man whose company is more liked.’ JOHNSON. ‘To be sure, Sir. When people find a man of the most distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferiour while he is with them, it must be highly gratifying to them. What Goldsmith comically says of himself is very true,–he always gets the better when he argues alone; meaning, that he is master of a subject in his study, and can write well upon it; but when he comes into company, grows confused, and unable to talk[692]. Take him as a poet, his _Traveller_ is a very fine performance; ay, and so is his _Deserted Village_, were it not sometimes too much the echo of his _Traveller_. Whether, indeed, we take him as a poet,–as a comick writer,–or as an historian, he stands in the first class.’ BOSWELL. ‘An historian! My dear Sir, you surely will not rank his compilation of the Roman History with the works of other historians of this age?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, who are before him[693]?’ BOSWELL. ‘Hume,– Robertson[694],–Lord Lyttelton.’ JOHNSON (his antipathy to the Scotch beginning to rise). ‘I have not read Hume; but, doubtless, Goldsmith’s _History_ is better than the _verbiage_ of Robertson[695], or the foppery of Dalrymple[696].’ BOSWELL. ‘Will you not admit the superiority of Robertson, in whose _History_ we find such penetration–such painting?’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, you must consider how that penetration and that painting are employed. It is not history, it is imagination. He who describes what he never saw, draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as Sir Joshua paints faces in a history-piece: he imagines an heroic countenance. You must look upon Robertson’s work as romance, and try it by that standard[697].History it is not. Besides, Sir, it is the great excellence of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will hold. Goldsmith has done this in his _History_. Now Robertson might have put twice as much into his book. Robertson is like a man who has packed gold in wool: the wool takes up more room than the gold. No, Sir; I always thought Robertson would be crushed by his own weight,–would be buried under his own ornaments. Goldsmith tells you shortly all you want to know: Robertson detains you a great deal too long. No man will read Robertson’s cumbrous detail a second time; but Goldsmith’s plain narrative will please again and again. I would say to Robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils: “Read over your compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out.” Goldsmith’s abridgement is better than that of Lucius Florus or Eutropius; and I will venture to say, that if you compare him with Vertot[698], in the same places of the Roman History, you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying every thing he has to say in a pleasing manner[699]. He is now writing a Natural History and will make it as entertaining as a Persian Tale.’
I cannot dismiss the present topick without observing, that it is probable that Dr. Johnson, who owned that he often ‘talked for victory,’ rather urged plausible objections to Dr. Robertson’s excellent historical works, in the ardour of contest, than expressed his real and decided opinion; for it is not easy to suppose, that he should so widely differ from the rest of the literary world[700].
JOHNSON. ‘I remember once being with Goldsmith in Westminster-abbey. While we surveyed the Poets’ Corner, I said to him,
“_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_[701].”
When we got to Temple-bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it[702], and slily whispered me,
“_Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur_ ISTIS[703].”‘.
Johnson praised John Bunyan highly. ‘His _Pilgrim’s Progress_ has great merit, both for invention, imagination, and the conduct of the story; and it has had the best evidence of its merit, the general and continued approbation of mankind. Few books, I believe, have had a more extensive sale. It is remarkable, that it begins very much like the poem of Dante; yet there was no translation of Dante when Bunyan wrote. There is reason to think that he had read Spenser[704].’
A proposition which had been agitated, that monuments to eminent persons should, for the time to come, be erected in St. Paul’s church as well as in Westminster-abbey, was mentioned; and it was asked, who should be honoured by having his monument first erected there[705]. Somebody suggested Pope. JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, as Pope was a Roman Catholick, I would not have his to be first. I think Milton’s rather should have the precedence[706]. I think more highly of him now than I did at twenty[707]. There is more thinking in him and in Butler, than in any of our poets.’
Some of the company expressed a wonder why the authour of so excellent a book as _The Whole Duty of Man_[708] should conceal himself. JOHNSON. ‘There may be different reasons assigned for this, any one of which would be very sufficient. He may have been a clergyman, and may have thought that his religious counsels would have less weight when known to come from a man whose profession was Theology. He may have been a man whose practice was not suitable to his principles, so that his character might injure the effect of his book, which he had written in a season of penitence. Or he may have been a man of rigid self-denial, so that he would have no reward for his pious labours while in this world, but refer it all to a future state.’
The gentlemen went away to their club, and I was left at Beauclerk’s till the fate of my election should be announced to me. I sat in a state of anxiety which even the charming conversation of Lady Di Beauclerk could not entirely dissipate. In a short time I received the agreeable intelligence that I was chosen[709]. I hastened to the place of meeting, and was introduced to such a society as can seldom be found. Mr. Edmund Burke, whom I then saw for the first time, and whose splendid talents had long made me ardently wish for his acquaintance; Dr. Nugent, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Jones[710], and the company with whom I had dined. Upon my entrance, Johnson placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with humorous formality gave me a _Charge_, pointing out the conduct expected from me as a good member of this club.
Goldsmith produced some very absurd verses which had been publickly recited to an audience for money[711]. JOHNSON. ‘I can match this nonsense. There was a poem called _Eugenio_, which came out some years ago, and concludes thus:
“And now, ye trifling, self-assuming elves, Brimful of pride, of nothing, of yourselves, Survey Eugenio, view him o’er and o’er, Then sink into yourselves, and be no more[712].”
‘Nay, Dryden in his poem on the Royal Society[713], has these lines:
“Then we upon our globe’s last verge shall go, And see the ocean leaning on the sky;
From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, And on the lunar world securely pry.”‘
Talking of puns, Johnson, who had a great contempt for that species of wit[714], deigned to allow that there was one good pun in _Menagiana_, I think on the word _corps_[715].
Much pleasant conversation passed, which Johnson relished with great good humour. But his conversation alone, or what led to it, or was interwoven with it, is the business of this work[716].
On Saturday, May 1, we dined by ourselves at our old rendezvous, the Mitre tavern. He was placid, but not much disposed to talk. He observed that ‘The Irish mix better with the English than the Scotch do; their language is nearer to English; as a proof of which, they succeed very well as players, which Scotchmen do not. Then, Sir, they have not that extreme nationality which we find in the Scotch. I will do you, Boswell, the justice to say, that you are the most _unscottified_ of your countrymen. You are almost the only instance of a Scotchman that I have known, who did not at every other sentence bring in some other Scotchman[717].’
We drank tea with Mrs. Williams. I introduced a question which has been much agitated in the Church of Scotland, whether the claim of lay-patrons to present ministers to parishes be well founded; and supposing it to be well founded, whether it ought to be exercised without the concurrence of the people? That Church is composed of a series of judicatures: a Presbytery, a Synod, and finally, a General Assembly; before all of which, this matter may be contended: and in some cases the Presbytery having refused to induct or _settle_, as they call it, the person presented by the patron, it has been found necessary to appeal to the General Assembly. He said, I might see the subject well treated in the _Defence of Pluralities_[718]; and although he thought that a patron should exercise his right with tenderness to the inclinations of the people of a parish, he was very clear as to his right. Then supposing the question to be pleaded before the General Assembly, he dictated to me what follows:
‘Against the right of patrons is commonly opposed, by the inferiour judicatures, the plea of conscience. Their conscience tells them, that the people ought to choose their pastor; their conscience tells them that they ought not to impose upon a congregation a minister ungrateful and unacceptable to his auditors. Conscience is nothing more than a conviction felt by ourselves of something to be done, or something to be avoided; and in questions of simple unperplexed morality, conscience is very often a guide that may be trusted. But before conscience can determine, the state of the question is supposed to be completely known. In questions of law, or of fact, conscience is very often confounded with opinion. No man’s conscience can tell him the right of another man[719]; they must be known by rational investigation or historical enquiry. Opinion, which he that holds it may call his conscience, may teach some men that religion would be promoted, and quiet preserved, by granting to the people universally the choice of their ministers. But it is a conscience very ill informed that violates the rights of one man, for the convenience of another. Religion cannot be promoted by injustice: and it was never yet found that a popular election was very quietly transacted.
‘That justice would be violated by transferring to the people the right of patronage, is apparent to all who know whence that right had its original. The right of patronage was not at first a privilege torn by power from unresisting poverty. It is not an authority at first usurped in times of ignorance, and established only by succession and by precedents. It is not a grant capriciously made from a higher tyrant to a lower. It is a right dearly purchased by the first possessors, and justly inherited by those that succeeded them. When Christianity was established in this island, a regular mode of publick worship was prescribed. Publick worship requires a publick place; and the proprietors of lands, as they were converted, built churches for their families and their vassals. For the maintenance of ministers, they settled a certain portion of their lands; and a district, through which each minister was required to extend his care, was, by that circumscription, constituted a parish. This is a position so generally received in England, that the extent of a manor and of a parish are regularly received for each other. The churches which the proprietors of lands had thus built and thus endowed, they justly thought themselves entitled to provide with ministers; and where the episcopal government prevails, the Bishop has no power to reject a man nominated by the patron, but for some crime that might exclude him from the priesthood. For the endowment of the church being the gift of the landlord, he was consequently at liberty to give it according to his choice, to any man capable of performing the holy offices. The people did not choose him, because the people did not pay him.
‘We hear it sometimes urged, that this original right is passed out of memory, and is obliterated and obscured by many translations of property and changes of government; that scarce any church is now in the hands of the heirs of the builders; and that the present persons have entered subsequently upon the pretended rights by a thousand accidental and unknown causes. Much of this, perhaps, is true. But how is the right of patronage extinguished? If the right followed the lands, it is possessed by the same equity by which the lands are possessed. It is, in effect, part of the manor, and protected by the same laws with every other privilege. Let us suppose an estate forfeited by treason, and granted by the Crown to a new family. With the lands were forfeited all the rights appendant to those lands; by the same power that grants the lands, the rights also are granted. The right lost to the patron falls not to the people, but is either retained by the Crown, or what to the people is the same thing, is by the Crown given away. Let it change hands ever so often, it is possessed by him that receives it with the same right as it was conveyed. It may, indeed, like all our possessions, be forcibly seized or fraudulently obtained. But no injury is still done to the people; for what they never had, they have never lost. Caius may usurp the right of Titius; but neither Caius nor Titius injure the people; and no man’s conscience, however tender or however active, can prompt him to restore what may be proved to have been never taken away. Supposing, what I think cannot be proved, that a popular election of ministers were to be desired, our desires are not the measure of equity. It were to be desired that power should be only in the hands of the merciful, and riches in the possession of the generous; but the law must leave both riches and power where it finds them: and must often leave riches with the covetous, and power with the cruel. Convenience may be a rule in little things, where no other rule has been established. But as the great end of government is to give every man his own, no inconvenience is greater than that of making right uncertain. Nor is any man more an enemy to publick peace, than he who fills weak heads with imaginary claims, and breaks the series of civil subordination, by inciting the lower classes of mankind to encroach upon the higher.
‘Having thus shown that the right of patronage, being originally purchased, may be legally transferred, and that it is now in the hands of lawful possessors, at least as certainly as any other right;–we have left to the advocates of the people no other plea than that of convenience. Let us, therefore, now consider what the people would really gain by a general abolition of the right of patronage. What is most to be desired by such a change is, that the country should be supplied with better ministers. But why should we suppose that the parish will make a wiser choice than the patron? If we suppose mankind actuated by interest, the patron is more likely to choose with caution, because he will suffer more by choosing wrong. By the deficiencies of his minister, or by his vices, he is equally offended with the rest of the congregation; but he will have this reason more to lament them, that they will be imputed to his absurdity or corruption. The qualifications of a minister are well known to be learning and piety. Of his learning the patron is probably the only judge in the parish; and of his piety not less a judge than others; and is more likely to enquire minutely and diligently before he gives a presentation, than one of the parochial rabble, who can give nothing but a vote. It may be urged, that though the parish might not choose better ministers, they would at least choose ministers whom they like better, and who would therefore officiate with greater efficacy. That ignorance and perverseness should always obtain what they like, was never considered as the end of government; of which it is the great and standing benefit, that the wise see for the simple, and the regular act for the capricious. But that this argument supposes the people capable of judging, and resolute to act according to their best judgments, though this be sufficiently absurd, it is not all its absurdity. It supposes not only wisdom, but unanimity in those, who upon no other occasions are unanimous or wise. If by some strange concurrence all the voices of a parish should unite in the choice of any single man, though I could not charge the patron with injustice for presenting a minister, I should censure him as unkind and injudicious. But, it is evident, that as in all other popular elections there will be contrariety of judgment and acrimony of passion, a parish upon every vacancy would break into factions, and the contest for the choice of a minister would set neighbours at variance, and bring discord into families. The minister would be taught all the arts of a candidate, would flatter some, and bribe others; and the electors, as in all other cases, would call for holidays and ale, and break the heads of each other during the jollity of the canvas. The time must, however, come at last, when one of the factions must prevail, and one of the ministers get possession of the church. On what terms does he enter upon his ministry but those of enmity with half his parish? By what prudence or what diligence can he hope to conciliate the affections of that party by whose defeat he has obtained his living? Every man who voted against him will enter the church with hanging head and downcast eyes, afraid to encounter that neighbour by whose vote and influence he has been overpowered. He will hate his neighbour for opposing him, and his minister for having prospered by the opposition; and as he will never see him but with pain, he will never see him but with hatred. Of a minister presented by the patron, the parish has seldom any thing worse to say than that they do not know him. Of a minister chosen by a popular contest, all those who do not favour him, have nursed up in their bosoms principles of hatred and reasons of rejection. Anger is excited principally by pride. The pride of a common man is very little exasperated by the supposed usurpation of an acknowledged superiour. He bears only his little share of a general evil, and suffers in common with the whole parish; but when the contest is between equals, the defeat has many aggravations; and he that is defeated by his next neighbour, is seldom satisfied without some revenge; and it is hard to say what bitterness of malignity would prevail in a parish where these elections should happen to be frequent, and the enmity of opposition should be re-kindled before it had cooled.’
Though I present to my readers Dr. Johnson’s masterly thoughts on the subject, I think it proper to declare, that notwithstanding I am myself a lay patron, I do not entirely subscribe to his opinion.
On Friday, May 7, I breakfasted with him at Mr. Thrale’s in the Borough. While we were alone, I endeavoured as well as I could to apologise for a lady[720] who had been divorced from her husband by act of Parliament. I said, that he had used her very ill, had behaved brutally to her, and that she could not continue to live with him without having her delicacy contaminated; that all affection for him was thus destroyed; that the essence of conjugal union being gone, there remained only a cold form, a mere civil obligation; that she was in the prime of life, with qualities to produce happiness; that these ought not to be lost; and, that the gentleman on whose account she was divorced had gained her heart while thus unhappily situated. Seduced, perhaps, by the charms of the lady in question, I thus attempted to palliate what I was sensible could not be justified; for when I had finished my harangue, my venerable friend gave me a proper check: ‘My dear Sir, never accustom your mind to mingle virtue and vice. The woman’s a whore, and there’s an end on’t.’
He described the father[721] of one of his friends thus: ‘Sir, he was so exuberant a talker at publick meeting, that the gentlemen of his county were afraid of him. No business could be done for his declamation.’
He did not give me full credit when I mentioned that I had carried on a short conversation by signs with some Esquimaux who were then in London, particularly with one of them who was a priest. He thought I could not make them understand me. No man was more incredulous as to particular facts, which were at all extraordinary[722]; and therefore no man was more scrupulously inquisitive, in order to discover the truth.
I dined with him this day at the house of my friends, Messieurs Edward and Charles Dilly[723], booksellers in the Poultry: there were present, their elder brother Mr. Dilly of Bedfordshire, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Langton, Mr. Claxton, Reverend Dr. Mayo a dissenting minister, the Reverend Mr. Toplady[724], and my friend the Reverend Mr. Temple.
Hawkesworth’s compilation of the voyages to the South Sea being mentioned;–JOHNSON. ‘Sir, if you talk of it as a subject of commerce, it will be gainful[725]; if as a book that is to increase human knowledge, I believe there will not be much of that. Hawkesworth can tell only what the voyagers have told him; and they have found very little, only one new animal, I think.’ BOSWELL. ‘But many insects, Sir.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, as to insects, Ray reckons of British insects twenty thousand species. They might have staid at home and discovered enough in that way.’
Talking of birds, I mentioned Mr. Daines Barrington’s ingenious Essay against the received notion of their migration. JOHNSON. ‘I think we have as good evidence for the migration of woodcocks as can be desired. We find they disappear at a certain time of the year, and appear again at a certain time of the year; and some of them, when weary in their flight, have been known to alight on the rigging of ships far out at sea.’ One of the company observed, that there had been instances of some of them found in summer in Essex. JOHNSON. ‘Sir, that strengthens our argument. _Exceptio probat regulam_. Some being found shews, that, if all remained, many would be found. A few sick or lame ones may be found.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘There is a partial migration of the swallows; the stronger ones migrate, the others do not[726].’
BOSWELL. ‘I am well assured that the people of Otaheite who have the bread tree, the fruit of which serves them for bread, laughed heartily when they were informed of the tedious process necessary with us to have bread;–plowing, sowing, harrowing, reaping, threshing, grinding, baking.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, all ignorant savages will laugh when they are told of the advantages of civilized life. Were you to tell men who live without houses, how we pile brick upon brick, and rafter upon rafter, and that after a house is raised to a certain height, a man tumbles off a scaffold, and breaks his neck; he would laugh heartily at our folly in building; but it does not follow that men are better without houses. No, Sir, (holding up a slice of a good loaf,) this is better than the bread tree[727].’
He repeated an argument, which is to be found in his _Rambler_[728], against the notion that the brute creation is endowed with the faculty of reason: ‘birds build by instinct; they never improve; they build their first nest as well as any one they ever build.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘Yet we see if you take away a bird’s nest with the eggs in it, she will make a slighter nest and lay again.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, that is because at first she has full time and makes her nest deliberately. In the case you mention she is pressed to lay, and must therefore make her nest quickly, and consequently it will be slight.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘The identification of birds is what is least known in natural history, though one of the most curious things in it.’
I introduced the subject of toleration[729]. JOHNSON. ‘Every society has a right to preserve publick peace and order, and therefore has a good right to prohibit the propagation of opinions which have a dangerous tendency. To say the _magistrate_ has this right, is using an inadequate word: it is the _society_ for which the magistrate is agent. He may be morally or theologically wrong in restraining the propagation of opinions which he thinks dangerous, but he is politically right.’ MAYO. ‘I am of opinion, Sir, that every man is entitled to liberty of conscience in religion; and that the magistrate cannot restrain that right.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, I agree with you. Every man has a right to liberty of conscience, and with that the magistrate cannot interfere. People confound liberty of thinking with liberty of talking; nay, with liberty of preaching. Every man has a physical right to think as he pleases; for it cannot be discovered how he thinks. He has not a moral right, for he ought to inform himself, and think justly. But, Sir, no member of a society has a right to _teach_ any doctrine contrary to what the society holds to be true. The magistrate, I say, may be wrong in what he thinks: but while he thinks himself right, he may and ought to enforce what he thinks[730].’ MAYO. ‘Then, Sir, we are to remain always in errour, and truth never can prevail; and the magistrate was right in persecuting the first Christians.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, the only method by which religious truth can be established is by martyrdom. The magistrate has a right to enforce what he thinks; and he who is conscious of the truth has a right to suffer. I am afraid there is no other way of ascertaining the truth, but by persecution on the one hand and enduring it on the other[731].’ GOLDSMITH. ‘But how is a man to act, Sir? Though firmly convinced of the truth of his doctrine, may he not think it wrong to expose himself to persecution? Has he a right to do so? Is it not, as it were, committing voluntary suicide?’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, as to voluntary suicide, as you call it, there are twenty thousand men in an army who will go without scruple to be shot at, and mount a breach for five-pence a day.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘But have they a moral right to do this?’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, if you will not take the universal opinion of mankind, I have nothing to say. If mankind cannot defend their own way of thinking, I cannot defend it. Sir, if a man is in doubt whether it would be better for him to expose himself to martyrdom or not, he should not do it. He must be convinced that he has a delegation from heaven.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘I would consider whether there is the greater chance of good or evil upon the whole. If I see a man who had fallen into a well, I would wish to help him out; but if there is a greater probability that he shall pull me in, than that I shall pull him out, I would not attempt it. So were I to go to Turkey, I might wish to convert the Grand Signor to the Christian faith; but when I considered that I should probably be put to death without effectuating my purpose in any degree, I should keep myself quiet.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir you must consider that we have perfect and imperfect obligations. Perfect obligations, which are generally not to do something, are clear and positive; as, ‘thou shalt not kill.’ But charity, for instance, is not definable by limits. It is a duty to give to the poor; but no man can say how much another should give to the poor, or when a man has given too little to save his soul. In the same manner it is a duty to instruct the ignorant, and of consequence to convert infidels to Christianity; but no man in the common course of things is obliged to carry this to such a degree as to incur the danger of martyrdom, as no man is obliged to strip himself to the shirt in order to give charity. I have said, that a man must be persuaded that he has a particular delegation from heaven.’ GOLDSMITH. ‘How is this to be known? Our first reformers, who were burnt for not believing bread and wine to be CHRIST’–JOHNSON, (interrupting him,) ‘Sir, they were not burnt for not believing bread and wine to be CHRIST, but for insulting those who did believe it. And, Sir, when the first reformers began, they did not intend to be martyred: as many of them ran away as could.’ BOSWELL. ‘But, Sir, there was your countryman, Elwal[732], who you told me challenged King George with his black-guards, and his red-guards.’ JOHNSON. ‘My countryman, Elwal, Sir, should have been put in the stocks; a proper pulpit for him; and he’d have had a numerous audience. A man who preaches in the stocks will always have hearers enough.’ BOSWELL. ‘But Elwal thought himself in the right.’ JOHNSON. ‘We are not providing for mad people; there are places for them in the neighbourhood’ (meaning Moorfields). MAYO. ‘But, Sir, is it not very hard that I should not be allowed to teach my children what I really believe to be the truth?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, you might contrive to teach your children _extra scandalum_; but, Sir, the magistrate, if he knows it, has a right to restrain you. Suppose you teach your children to be thieves?’ MAYO. ‘This is making a joke of the subject.’ JOHNSON.’ ‘Nay, Sir, take it thus:–that you teach them the community of goods; for which there are as many plausible arguments as for most erroneous doctrines. You teach them that all things at first were in common, and that no man had a right to any thing but as he laid his hands upon it; and that this still is, or ought to be, the rule amongst mankind. Here, Sir, you sap a great principle in society,–property. And don’t you think the magistrate would have a right to prevent you? Or, suppose you should teach your children the notion of the Adamites, and they should run naked into the streets, would not the magistrate have a right to flog ’em into their doublets?’ MAYO. ‘I think the magistrate has no right to interfere till there is some overt act.’ BOSWELL. ‘So, Sir, though he sees an enemy to the state charging a blunderbuss, he is not to interfere till it is fired off?’ MAYO. ‘He must be sure of its direction against the state.’ JOHNSON. ‘The magistrate is to judge of that.–He has no right to restrain your thinking, because the evil centers in yourself. If a man were sitting at this table, and chopping off his fingers, the magistrate, as guardian of the community, has no authority to restrain him, however he might do it from kindness as a parent.–Though, indeed, upon more consideration, I think he may; as it is probable, that he who is chopping off his own fingers, may soon proceed to chop off those of other people. If I think it right to steal Mr. Dilly’s plate, I am a bad man; but he can say nothing to me. If I make an open declaration that I think so, he will keep me out of his house. If I put forth my hand, I shall be sent to Newgate. This is the gradation of thinking, preaching, and acting: if a man thinks erroneously, he may keep his thoughts to himself, and nobody will trouble him; if he preaches erroneous doctrine, society may expel him; if he acts in consequence of it, the law takes place, and he is hanged[733].’ MAYO. ‘But, Sir, ought not Christians to have liberty of conscience?’ JOHNSON. ‘I have already told you so, Sir. You are coming back to where you were,’ BOSWELL. ‘Dr. Mayo is always taking a return post-chaise, and going the stage over again. He has it at half price.’ JOHNSON. ‘Dr. Mayo, like other champions for unlimited toleration, has got a set of words[734]. Sir, it is no matter, politically, whether the magistrate be right or wrong. Suppose a club were to be formed, to drink confusion to King George the Third, and a happy restoration to Charles the Third[735], this would be very bad with respect to the State; but every member of that club must either conform to its rules, or be turned out of it. Old Baxter, I remember, maintains, that the magistrate should “tolerate all things that are tolerable.” This is no good definition of toleration upon any principle; but it shews that he thought some things were not tolerable.’ TOPLADY. ‘Sir, you have untwisted this difficult subject with great dexterity[736].’
During this argument, Goldsmith sat in restless agitation, from a wish to get in and _shine_[737]. Finding himself excluded, he had taken his hat to go away[738], but remained for some time with it in his hand, like a gamester, who at the close of a long night, lingers for a little while, to see if he can have a favourable opening to finish with success. Once when he was beginning to speak, he found himself overpowered by the loud voice of Johnson, who was at the opposite end of the table, and did not perceive Goldsmith’s attempt. Thus disappointed of his wish to obtain the attention of the company, Goldsmith in a passion threw down his hat, looking angrily at Johnson, and exclaiming in a bitter tone, ‘_Take it_.’ When Toplady was going to speak, Johnson uttered some sound, which led Goldsmith to think that he was beginning again, and taking the words from Toplady. Upon which, he seized this opportunity of venting his own envy and spleen, under the pretext of supporting another person: ‘Sir, (said he to Johnson,) the gentleman has heard you patiently for an hour; pray allow us now to hear him[739].’ JOHNSON. (sternly,) ‘Sir, I was not interrupting the gentleman. I was only giving him a signal of my attention. Sir, you are impertinent.’ Goldsmith made no reply, but continued in the company for some time.
A gentleman present[740] ventured to ask Dr. Johnson if there was not a material difference as to toleration of opinions which lead to action, and opinions merely speculative; for instance, would it be wrong in the magistrate to tolerate those who preach against the doctrine of the TRINITY? Johnson was highly offended, and said, ‘I wonder, Sir, how a gentleman of your piety can introduce this subject in a mixed company.’ He told me afterwards, that the impropriety was, that perhaps some of the company might have talked on the subject in such terms as might have shocked him[741]; or he might have been forced to appear in their eyes a narrow-minded man. The gentleman, with submissive deference, said, he had only hinted at the question from a desire to hear Dr. Johnson’s opinion upon it. JOHNSON. ‘Why then, Sir, I think that permitting men to preach any opinion contrary to the doctrine of the established church tends, in a certain degree, to lessen the authority of the church, and consequently, to lessen the influence of religion.’ ‘It may be considered, (said the gentleman,) whether it would not be politick to tolerate in such a case.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, we have been talking of _right_: this is another question. I think it is _not_ politick to tolerate in such a case.’
Though he did not think it fit that so aweful a subject should be introduced in a mixed company, and therefore at this time waved the theological question; yet his own orthodox belief in the sacred mystery of the TRINITY is evinced beyond doubt, by the following passage in his private devotions:
‘O LORD, hear my prayer [prayers], for JESUS CHRIST’S sake; to whom with thee and the HOLY GHOST, _three persons and one_ GOD, be all honour and glory, world without end, Amen[742].’
BOSWELL. ‘Pray, Mr. Dilly, how does Dr. Leland’s[743] _History of Ireland_ sell?’ JOHNSON, (bursting forth with a generous indignation,) ‘The Irish are in a most unnatural state; for we see there the minority prevailing over the majority[744]. There is no instance, even in the ten persecutions[745], of such severity as that which the protestants of Ireland have exercised against the Catholicks. Did we tell them we have conquered them, it would be above board: to punish them by confiscation and other penalties, as rebels, was monstrous injustice[746]. King William was not their lawful sovereign: he had not been acknowledged by the Parliament of Ireland, when they appeared in arms against him.’
I here suggested something favourable of the Roman Catholicks. TOPLADY. ‘Does not their invocation of saints suppose omnipresence in the saints?’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir; it supposes only pluri-presence, and when spirits are divested of matter, it seems probable that they should see with more extent than when in an embodied state. There is, therefore, no approach to an invasion of any of the divine attributes, in the invocation of saints. But I think it is will-worship, and presumption. I see no command for it, and therefore think it is safer not to practise it[747].’
He and Mr. Langton and I went together to THE CLUB, where we found Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, and some other members, and amongst them our friend Goldsmith, who sat silently brooding over Johnson’s reprimand to him after dinner. Johnson perceived this, and said aside to some of us, ‘I’ll make Goldsmith forgive me;’ and then called to him in a loud voice, ‘Dr. Goldsmith,–something passed to-day where you and I dined; I ask your pardon[748].’ Goldsmith answered placidly, ‘It must be much from you, Sir, that I take ill.’ And so at once the difference was over, and they were on as easy terms as ever, and Goldsmith rattled away as usual[749].
In our way to the club to-night, when I regretted that Goldsmith would, upon every occasion, endeavour to shine, by which he often exposed himself, Mr. Langton observed, that he was not like Addison, who was content with the fame of his writings, and did not aim also at excellency in conversation, for which he found himself unfit; and that he said to a lady who complained of his having talked little in company, ‘Madam, I have but nine-pence in ready money, but I can draw for a thousand pound[750].’ I observed, that Goldsmith had a great deal of gold in his cabinet, but, not content with that, was always taking out his purse. JOHNSON. ‘Yes, Sir, and that so often an empty purse!’
Goldsmith’s incessant desire of being conspicuous in company, was the occasion of his sometimes appearing to such disadvantage as one should hardly have supposed possible in a man of his genius[751]. When his literary reputation had risen deservedly high, and his society was much courted, he became very jealous of the extraordinary attention which was every where paid to Johnson. One evening, in a circle of wits, he found fault with me for talking of Johnson as entitled to the honour of unquestionable superiority. ‘Sir, (said he,) you are for making a monarchy of what should be a republick.’
He was still more mortified, when talking in a company with fluent vivacity, and, as he flattered himself, to the admiration of all who were present; a German who sat next him, and perceived Johnson rolling himself, as if about to speak, suddenly stopped him, saying, ‘Stay, stay,–Toctor Shonson is going to say something.’ This was, no doubt, very provoking, especially to one so irritable as Goldsmith, who frequently mentioned it with strong expressions of indignation[752].
It may also be observed, that Goldsmith was sometimes content to be treated with an easy familiarity, but, upon occasions, would be consequential and important. An instance of this occurred in a small particular. Johnson had a way of contracting the names of his friends; as Beauclerk, Beau; Boswell, Bozzy; Langton, Lanky; Murphy, Mur; Sheridan, Sherry[753]. I remember one day, when Tom Davies was telling that Dr. Johnson said, ‘We are all in labour for a name to _Goldy’s_ play,’ Goldsmith seemed displeased that such a liberty should be taken with his name, and said, ‘I have often desired him not to call me _Goldy_[754].’ Tom was remarkably attentive to the most minute circumstance about Johnson. I recollect his telling me once, on my arrival in London, ‘Sir, our great friend has made an improvement on his appellation of old Mr. Sheridan. He calls him now _Sherry derry_.’
‘To THE REVEREND MR. BAGSHAW, AT BROMLEY[755].
‘SIR,
‘I return you my sincere thanks for your additions to my _Dictionary_; but the new edition has been published some time, and therefore I cannot now make use of them. Whether I shall ever revise it more, I know not. If many readers had been as judicious, as diligent, and as communicative as yourself, my work had been better. The world must at present take it as it is. I am, Sir,
‘Your most obliged
‘And most humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘May 8, 1773.’
On Sunday, May 8[756], I dined with Johnson at Mr. Langton’s[757] with Dr. Beattie and some other company. He descanted on the subject of Literary Property. ‘There seems (said he,) to be in authours a stronger right of property than that by occupancy; a metaphysical[758] right, a right, as it were, of creation, which should from its nature be perpetual; but the consent of nations is against it, and indeed reason and the interests of learning are against it; for were it to be perpetual, no book, however useful, could be universally diffused amongst mankind, should the proprietor take it into his head to restrain its circulation. No book could have the advantage of being edited with notes, however necessary to its elucidation, should the proprietor perversely oppose it. For the general good of the world, therefore, whatever valuable work has once been created by an authour, and issued out by him, should be understood as no longer in his power, but as belonging to the publick; at the same time the authour is entitled to an adequate reward. This he should have by an exclusive right to his work for a considerable number of years[759].’
He attacked Lord Monboddo’s strange speculation on the primitive state of human nature[760]; observing, ‘Sir, it is all conjecture about a thing useless, even were it known to be true. Knowledge of all kinds is good. Conjecture, as to things useful, is good; but conjecture as to what it would be useless to know, such as whether men went upon all four, is very idle.’
On Monday, May 9[761], as I was to set out on my return to Scotland next morning, I was desirous to see as much of Dr. Johnson as I could. But I first called on Goldsmith to take leave of him. The jealousy and envy which, though possessed of many most amiable qualities, he frankly avowed, broke out violently at this interview. Upon another occasion, when Goldsmith confessed himself to be of an envious disposition, I contended with Johnson that we ought not to be angry with him, he was so candid in owning it. ‘Nay, Sir, (said Johnson,) we must be angry that a man has such a superabundance of an odious quality, that he cannot keep it within his own breast, but it boils over.’ In my opinion, however, Goldsmith had not more of it than other people have, but only talked of it freely[762].
He now seemed very angry that Johnson was going to be a traveller; said ‘he would be a dead weight for me to carry, and that I should never be able to lug him along through the Highlands and Hebrides.’ Nor would he patiently allow me to enlarge upon Johnson’s wonderful abilities; but exclaimed, ‘Is he like Burke, who winds into a subject like a serpent?’ ‘But, (said I,) Johnson is the Hercules who strangled serpents in his cradle.’
I dined with Dr. Johnson at General Paoli’s. He was obliged, by indisposition, to leave the company early; he appointed me, however, to meet him in the evening at Mr. (now Sir Robert) Chambers’s in the Temple, where he accordingly came, though he continued to be very ill. Chambers, as is common on such occasions, prescribed various remedies to him. JOHNSON. (fretted by pain,) ‘Pr’ythee don’t tease me. Stay till I am well, and then you shall tell me how to cure myself.’ He grew better, and talked with a noble enthusiasm of keeping up the representation of respectable families. His zeal on this subject was a circumstance in his character exceedingly remarkable, when it is considered that he himself had no pretensions to blood. I heard him once say, ‘I have great merit in being zealous for subordination and the honours of birth; for I can hardly tell who was my grandfather[763].’ He maintained the dignity and propriety of male succession, in opposition to the opinion of one of our friends[764], who had that day employed Mr. Chambers to draw his will, devising his estate to his three sisters, in preference to a remote heir male. Johnson called them ‘three _dowdies_,’ and said, with as high a spirit as the boldest Baron in the most perfect days of the feudal system, ‘An ancient estate should always go to males. It is mighty foolish to let a stranger have it because he marries your daughter, and takes your name. As for an estate newly acquired by trade, you may give it, if you will, to the dog _Towser_, and let him keep his _own_ name.’
I have known him at times exceedingly diverted at what seemed to others a very small sport[765]. He now laughed immoderately, without any reason that we could perceive, at our friend’s making his will; called him the _testator_, and added, ‘I dare say, he thinks he has done a mighty thing. He won’t stay till he gets home to his seat in the country, to produce this wonderful deed: he’ll call up the landlord of the first inn on the road; and, after a suitable preface upon mortality and the uncertainty of life, will tell him that he should not delay making his will; and here, Sir, will he say, is my will, which I have just made, with the assistance of one of the ablest lawyers in the kingdom; and he will read it to him (laughing all the time). He believes he has made this will; but he did not make it: you, Chambers, made it for him. I trust you have had more conscience than to make him say, “being of sound understanding;” ha, ha, ha! I hope he has left me a legacy. I’d have his will turned into verse, like a ballad.’
In this playful manner did he run on, exulting in his own pleasantry, which certainly was not such as might be expected from the authour of _The Rambler_, but which is here preserved, that my readers may be acquainted even with the slightest occasional characteristicks of so eminent a man.
Mr. Chambers did not by any means relish this jocularity upon a matter of which _pars magna fuit_[766], and seemed impatient till he got rid of us. Johnson could not stop his merriment, but continued it all the way till we got without the Temple-gate. He then burst into such a fit of laughter, that he appeared to be almost in a convulsion; and, in order to support himself, laid hold of one of the posts at the side of the foot pavement, and sent forth peals so loud, that in the silence of the night his voice seemed to resound from Temple-bar to Fleet-ditch.
This most ludicrous exhibition of the aweful, melancholy, and venerable Johnson[767], happened well to counteract the feelings of sadness which I used to experience when parting with him for a considerable time. I accompanied him to his door, where he gave me his blessing.
He records of himself this year, ‘Between Easter and Whitsuntide, having always considered that time as propitious to study, I attempted to learn the Low Dutch language[768].’ It is to be observed, that he here admits an opinion of the human mind being influenced by seasons, which he ridicules in his writings[769]. His progress, he says, was interrupted by a fever, ‘which, by the imprudent use of a small print, left an inflammation in his useful eye[770].’ We cannot but admire his spirit when we know, that amidst a complication of bodily and mental distress, he was still animated with the desire of intellectual improvement[771]. Various notes of his studies appear on different days, in his manuscript diary of this year, such as,
‘Inchoavi lectionem Pentateuchi–Finivi lectionem Conf. Fab. Burdonum[772].–Legi primum actum Troadum.–Legi Dissertationem Clerici postremam de Pent.–2 of Clark’s Sermons.–L. Appolonii pugnam Betriciam.–L. centum versus Homeri.’
Let this serve as a specimen of what accessions of literature he was perpetually infusing into his mind, while he charged himself with idleness.
This year died Mrs. Salusbury, (mother of Mrs. Thrale,) a lady whom he appears to have esteemed much, and whose memory he honoured with an Epitaph[773].
In a letter from Edinburgh, dated the 29th of May, I pressed him to persevere in his resolution to make this year the projected visit to the Hebrides, of which he and I had talked for many years, and which I was confident would afford us much entertainment.
‘TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘When your letter came to me, I was so darkened by an inflammation in my eye, that I could not for some time read it. I can now write without trouble, and can read large prints. My eye is gradually growing stronger; and I hope will be able to take some delight in the survey of a Caledonian loch.
‘Chambers is going a Judge, with six thousand a year, to Bengal[774]. He and I shall come down together as far as Newcastle, and thence I shall easily get to Edinburgh. Let me know the exact time when your Courts intermit. I must conform a little to Chambers’s occasions, and he must conform a little to mine. The time which you shall fix, must be the common point to which we will come as near as we can. Except this eye, I am very well.
‘Beattie is so caressed, and invited, and treated, and liked, and flattered, by the great, that I can see nothing of him. I am in great hope that he will be well provided for, and then we will live upon him at the Marischal College, without pity or modesty[775].
‘—-[776] left the town without taking leave of me, and is gone in deep dudgeon to —-[777]. Is not this very childish? Where is now my legacy[778]?
‘I hope your dear lady and her dear baby are both well. I shall see them too when I come; and I have that opinion of your choice, as to suspect that when I have seen Mrs. Boswell, I shall be less willing to go away. I am, dear Sir,
‘Your affectionate humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘Johnson’s-court, Fleet-street,
July 5, 1773.’
‘Write to me as soon as you can. Chambers is now at Oxford.’
I again wrote to him, informing him that the Court of Session rose on the twelfth of August, hoping to see him before that time, and expressing perhaps in too extravagant terms, my admiration of him, and my expectation of pleasure from our intended tour.
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘I shall set out from London on Friday the sixth [779] of this month, and purpose not to loiter much by the way. Which day I shall be at Edinburgh, I cannot exactly tell. I suppose I must drive to an inn, and send a porter to find you.
‘I am afraid Beattie will not be at his College soon enough for us, and I shall be sorry to miss him; but there is no staying for the concurrence of all conveniences. We will do as well as we can.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Your most humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘August 3, 1773.’
TO THE SAME.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘Not being at Mr. Thrale’s when your letter came, I had written the enclosed paper and sealed it; bringing it hither for a frank, I found yours. If any thing could repress my ardour, it would be such a letter as yours. To disappoint a friend is unpleasing; and he that forms expectations like yours, must be disappointed. Think only when you see me, that you see a man who loves you, and is proud and glad that you love him.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Your most affectionate
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘August 3, 1773.’
TO THE SAME.
‘Newcastle, Aug. 11, 1771.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘I came hither last night, and hope, but do not absolutely promise, to be in Edinburgh on Saturday. Beattie will not come so soon.
I am, Sir,
‘Your most humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘My compliments to your lady.’
TO THE SAME.
‘Mr. Johnson sends his compliments to Mr. Boswell, being just arrived at Boyd’s,’
‘Saturday night.’
His stay in Scotland was from the 18th of August[780], on which day he arrived, till the 22nd of November, when he set out on his return to London; and I believe ninety-four days[781] were never passed by any man in a more vigorous exertion.
He came by the way of Berwick upon Tweed to Edinburgh, where he remained a few days, and then went by St. Andrew’s, Aberdeen, Inverness, and Fort Augustus, to the Hebrides, to visit which was the principal object he had in view. He visited the isles of Sky, Rasay, Col, Mull, Inchkenneth, and Icolmkill. He travelled through Argyleshire by Inverary, and from thence by Lochlomond and Dumbarton to Glasgow, then by Loudon to Auchinleck in Ayrshire, the seat of my family, and then by Hamilton, back to Edinburgh, where he again spent some time. He thus saw the four Universities of Scotland[782], its three principal cities, and as much of the Highland and insular life as was sufficient for his philosophical contemplation. I had the pleasure of accompanying him during the whole of this journey. He was respectfully entertained by the great, the learned, and the elegant, wherever he went; nor was he less delighted with the hospitality which he experienced in humbler life[783].
His various adventures, and the force and vivacity of his mind, as exercised during this peregrination, upon innumerable topicks, have been faithfully, and to the best of my abilities, displayed in my _Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides_, to which, as the publick has been pleased to honour it by a very extensive circulation[784], I beg leave to refer, as to a separate and remarkable portion of his life[785], which may be there seen in detail, and which exhibits as striking a view of his powers in conversation, as his works do of his excellence in writing. Nor can I deny to myself the very flattering gratification of inserting here the character which my friend Mr. Courtenay has been pleased to give of that work:
‘With Reynolds’ pencil, vivid, bold, and true, So fervent Boswell gives him to our view: In every trait we see his mind expand;
The master rises by the pupil’s hand; We love the writer, praise his happy vein, Grac’d with the naivete of the sage Montaigne. Hence not alone are brighter parts display’d, But e’en the specks of character pourtray’d: We _see_ the Rambler with fastidious smile Mark the lone tree, and note the heath-clad isle; But when th’ heroick tale of Flora’s[786] charms, Deck’d in a kilt, he wields a chieftain’s arms: The tuneful piper sounds a martial strain, And Samuel sings, “The King shall have his _ain_.”‘
During his stay at Edinburgh, after his return from the Hebrides, he was at great pains to obtain information concerning Scotland; and it will appear from his subsequent letters, that he was not less solicitous for intelligence on this subject after his return to London.
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘I came home last night, without any incommodity, danger, or weariness, and am ready to begin a new journey. I shall go to Oxford on Monday[787]. I know Mrs. Boswell wished me well to go[788]; her wishes have not been disappointed. Mrs. Williams has received Sir A’s[789] letter.
‘Make my compliments to all those to whom my compliments may be welcome.
‘Let the box[790] be sent as soon as it can, and let me know when to expect it.
‘Enquire, if you can, the order of the Clans: Macdonald is first, Maclean second; further I cannot go. Quicken Dr. Webster[791].
‘I am, Sir,
‘Yours affectionately,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘Nov. 27, 1773.’
‘MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
‘Edinburgh, Dec. 2, 1773.
‘You shall have what information I can procure as to the order of the Clans. A gentleman of the name of Grant tells me, that there is no settled order among them; and he says, that the Macdonalds were not placed upon the right of the army at Culloden[792]; the Stuarts were. I shall, however, examine witnesses of every name that I can find here. Dr. Webster shall be quickened too. I like your little memorandums; they are symptoms of your being in earnest with your book of northern travels.
‘Your box shall be sent next week by sea. You will find in it some pieces of the broom bush, which you saw growing on the old castle of Auchinleck. The wood has a curious appearance when sawn across. You may either have a little writing-stand made of it, or get it formed into boards for a treatise on witchcraft, by way of a suitable binding.’
* * * * *
‘MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
‘Edinburgh, Dec. 18, 1773.
* * * * *
‘You promised me an inscription for a print to be taken from an historical picture of Mary Queen of Scots being forced to resign her crown, which Mr. Hamilton at Rome has painted for me. The two following have been sent to me:
“_Maria Scotorum Regina meliori seculo digna, jus regiitm civibus seditiosis invita resignat_.”
“_Cives seditiosi Mariam Scotorum Reginam sese muneri abdicare invitam cogunt_.”
‘Be so good as to read the passage in Robertson, and see if you cannot give me a better inscription. I must have it both in Latin and English; so if you should not give me another Latin one, you will at least choose the best of these two, and send a translation of it.’
* * * * *
His humane forgiving disposition was put to a pretty strong test on his return to London, by a liberty which Mr. Thomas Davies had taken with him in his absence, which was, to publish two volumes, entitled, _Miscellaneous and fugitive Pieces_, which he advertised in the news-papers, ‘By the Authour of the Rambler.’ In this collection, several of Dr. Johnson’s acknowledged writings, several of his anonymous performances, and some which he had written for others, were inserted; but there were also some in which he had no concern whatever[793]. He was at first very angry, as he had good reason to be. But, upon consideration of his poor friend’s narrow circumstances, and that he had only a little profit in view, and meant no harm, he soon relented, and continued his kindness to him as formerly[794].
In the course of his self-examination with retrospect to this year, he seems to have been much dejected; for he says, January 1, 1774, ‘This year has passed with so little improvement, that I doubt whether I have not rather impaired than increased my learning’;[795] and yet we have seen how he _read_, and we know how he _talked_ during that period.
He was now seriously engaged in writing an account of our travels in the Hebrides, in consequence of which I had the pleasure of a more frequent correspondence with him.
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘My operations have been hindered by a cough; at least I flatter myself, that if my cough had not come, I should have been further advanced. But I have had no intelligence from Dr. W—-, [Webster,] nor from the Excise-office, nor from you. No account of the little borough[796]. Nothing of the Erse language. I have yet heard nothing of my box.
‘You must make haste and gather me all you can, and do it quickly, or I will and shall do without it.
‘Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, and tell her that I do not love her the less for wishing me away. I gave her trouble enough, and shall be glad, in recompense, to give her any pleasure.
‘I would send some porter into the Hebrides, if I knew which way it could be got to my kind friends there. Enquire, and let me know.
‘Make my compliments to all the Doctors of Edinburgh, and to all my friends, from one end of Scotland to the other.
‘Write to me, and send me what intelligence you can: and if any thing is too bulky for the post, let me have it by the carrier. I do not like trusting winds and waves.
‘I am, dear Sir,
‘Your most, &c.
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘Jan. 29, 1774.’
To THE SAME.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘In a day or two after I had written the last discontented letter, I received my box, which was very welcome. But still I must entreat you to hasten Dr. Webster, and continue to pick up what you can that may be useful.
‘Mr. Oglethorpe was with me this morning, you know his errand. He was not unwelcome.
‘Tell Mrs. Boswell that my good intentions towards her still continue I should be glad to do any thing that would either benefit or please her.
‘Chambers is not yet gone, but so hurried, or so negligent, or so proud, that I rarely see him. I have, indeed, for some weeks past, been very ill of a cold and cough, and have been at Mrs. Thrale’s, that I might be taken care of. I am much better: _novae redeunt in praelia vires_[797]; but I am yet tender, and easily disordered. How happy it was that neither of us were ill in the Hebrides.
‘The question of Literary Property is this day before the Lords[798]. Murphy[799] drew up the Appellants’ case, that is, the plea against the perpetual right. I have not seen it, nor heard the decision. I would not have the right perpetual.
‘I will write to you as any thing occurs, and do you send me something about my Scottish friends. I have very great kindness for them. Let me know likewise how fees come in, and when we are to see you.
‘I am. Sir,
Yours affectionately,
SAM. JOHNSON.
London, Feb. 7, 1774.
He at this time wrote the following letters to Mr. Steevens, his able associate in editing Shakspeare:
To George Steevens, Esq., in Hampstead.
‘Sir,
‘If I am asked when I have seen Mr. Steevens, you know what answer I must give; if I am asked when I shall see him, I wish you would tell me what to say.
‘If you have Lesley’s _History of Scotland_, or any other book about Scotland, except Boetius and Buchanan, it will be a kindness if you send them to, Sir,
‘Your humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.
‘Feb. 7, 1774.’
To the same.
‘Sir,
‘We are thinking to augment our club, and I am desirous of nominating you, if you care to stand the ballot, and can attend on Friday nights at least twice in five weeks: less than this is too little, and rather more will be expected. Be pleased to let me know before Friday.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Your most, &c.,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.
‘Feb. 21, 1774.
To the same.
‘Sir,
‘Last night you became a member of the club; if you call on me on Friday, I will introduce you. A gentleman, proposed after you, was rejected.
‘I thank you for _Neander_, but wish he were not so fine.[800] I will take care of him.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Your humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘March 5, 1774.’
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘Dr. Webster’s informations were much less exact and much less determinate than I expected: they are, indeed, much less positive than, if he can trust his own book[801] which he laid before me, he is able to give. But I believe it will always be found, that he who calls much for information will advance his work but slowly.
‘I am, however, obliged to you, dear Sir, for your endeavours to help me, and hope, that between us something will some time be done, if not on this, on some occasion.
‘Chambers is either married, or almost married, to Miss Wilton, a girl of sixteen, exquisitely beautiful, whom he has, with his lawyer’s tongue, persuaded to take her chance with him in the East.
‘We have added to the club[802], Charles Fox[803], Sir Charles Bunbury [804], Dr. Fordyce[805], and Mr. Steevens[806].
‘Return my thanks to Dr. Webster. Tell Dr. Robertson I have not much to reply to his censure of my negligence; and tell Dr. Blair, that since he has written hither what I said to him, we must now consider ourselves as even, forgive one another, and begin again[807]. I care not how soon, for he is a very pleasing man. Pay my compliments to all my friends, and remind Lord Elibank of his promise to give me all his works.
‘I hope Mrs. Boswell and little Miss are well.–When shall I see them again? She is a sweet lady, only she was so glad to see me go, that I have almost a mind to come again, that she may again have the same pleasure.
‘Enquire if it be practicable to send a small present of a cask of porter to Dunvegan, Rasay, and Col. I would not wish to be thought forgetful of civilities.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Your humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘March 5, 1774.’
On the 5th of March I wrote to him, requesting his counsel whether I should this spring come to London. I stated to him on the one hand some pecuniary embarrassments, which, together with my wife’s situation at that time, made me hesitate; and, on the other, the pleasure and improvement which my annual visit to the metropolis always afforded me; and particularly mentioned a peculiar satisfaction which I experienced in celebrating the festival of Easter in St. Paul’s cathedral; that to my fancy it appeared like going up to Jerusalem at the feast of the Passover; and that the strong devotion which I felt on that occasion diffused its influence on my mind through the rest of the year[808].
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
[Not dated[809], but written about the 15th of March.]
‘DEAR SIR,
‘I am ashamed to think that since I received your letter I have passed so many days without answering it.
‘I think there is no great difficulty in resolving your doubts. The reasons for which you are inclined to visit London, are, I think, not of sufficient strength to answer the objections. That you should delight to come once a year to the fountain of intelligence and pleasure, is very natural; but both information and pleasure must be regulated by propriety. Pleasure, which cannot be obtained but by unseasonable or unsuitable expence, must always end in pain; and pleasure, which must be enjoyed at the expence of another’s pain, can never be such as a worthy mind can fully delight in.
‘What improvement you might gain by coming to London, you may easily supply, or easily compensate, by enjoining yourself some particular study at home, or opening some new avenue to information. Edinburgh is not yet exhausted; and I am sure you will find no pleasure here which can deserve either that you should anticipate any part of your future fortune, or that you should condemn yourself and your lady to penurious frugality for the rest of the year.
‘I need not tell you what regard you owe to Mrs. Boswell’s entreaties; or how much you ought to study the happiness of her who studies yours with so much diligence, and of whose kindness you enjoy such good effects. Life cannot subsist in society but by reciprocal concessions. She permitted you to ramble last year, you must permit her now to keep you at home.
‘Your last reason is so serious, that I am unwilling to oppose it. Yet you must remember, that your image of worshipping once a year in a certain place, in imitation of the Jews, is but a comparison; and _simile non est idem_; if the annual resort to Jerusalem was a duty to the Jews, it was a duty because it was commanded; and you have no such command, therefore no such duty. It may be dangerous to receive too readily, and indulge too fondly, opinions, from which, perhaps, no pious mind is wholly disengaged, of local sanctity and local devotion. You know what strange effects they have produced over a great part of the Christian world. I am now writing, and you, when you read this, are reading under the Eye of Omnipresence.
‘To what degree fancy is to be admitted into religious offices, it would require much deliberation to determine. I am far from intending totally to exclude it. Fancy is a faculty bestowed by our Creator, and it is reasonable that all His gifts should be used to His glory, that all our faculties should co-operate in His worship; but they are to co-operate according to the will of Him that gave them, according to the order which His wisdom has established. As ceremonies prudential or convenient are less obligatory than positive ordinances, as bodily worship is only the token to others or ourselves of mental adoration, so Fancy is always to act in subordination to Reason. We may take Fancy for a companion, but must follow Reason as our guide. We may allow Fancy to suggest certain ideas in certain places; but Reason must always be heard, when she tells us, that those ideas and those places have no natural or necessary relation. When we enter a church we habitually recall to mind the duty of adoration, but we must not omit adoration for want of a temple; because we know, and ought to remember, that the Universal Lord is every where present; and that, therefore, to come to Jona[810], or to Jerusalem, though it may be useful, cannot be necessary.
‘Thus I have answered your letter, and have not answered it negligently. I love you too well to be careless when you are serious.
‘I think I shall be very diligent next week about our travels, which I have too long neglected.
‘I am, dear Sir,
‘Your most, &c.,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘Compliments to Madam and Miss.’
To The Same.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘The lady who delivers this has a lawsuit, in which she desires to make use of your skill and eloquence, and she seems to think that she shall have something more of both for a recommendation from me; which, though I know how little you want any external incitement to your duty, I could not refuse her, because I know that at least it will not hurt her, to tell you that I wish her well.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Your most humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘May 10, 1774.’
‘MR, BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
‘Edinburgh, May 12, 1774.
‘Lord Hailes has begged of me to offer you his best respects, and to transmit to you specimens of _Annals of Scotland, from the Accession of Malcolm Kenmore to the Death of James V_,’ in drawing up which, his Lordship has been engaged for some time. His Lordship writes to me thus: “If I could procure Dr. Johnson’s criticisms, they would be of great use to me in the prosecution of my work, as they would be judicious and true. I have no right to ask that favour of him. If you could, it would highly oblige me.”
‘Dr. Blair requests you may be assured that he did not write to London what you said to him, and that neither by word nor letter has he made the least complaint of you; but, on the contrary, has a high respect for you, and loves you much more since he saw you in Scotland. It would both divert and please you to see his eagerness about this matter.’
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘Streatham, June 21, 1774.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘Yesterday I put the first sheets of the _Journey to the Hebrides_ to the press. I have endeavoured to do you some justice in the first paragraph[811]. It will be one volume in octavo, not thick.
‘It will be proper to make some presents in Scotland. You shall tell me to whom I shall give; and I have stipulated twenty-five for you to give in your own name[812]. Some will take the present better from me, others better from you. In this, you who are to live in the place ought to direct. Consider it. Whatever you can get for my purpose send me; and make my compliments to your lady and both the young ones.
‘I am, Sir, your, &c.,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
‘Edinburgh, June 24, 1774.
‘You do not acknowledge the receipt of the various packets which I have sent to you. Neither can I prevail with you to _answer_ my letters, though you honour me with _returns_[813]. You have said nothing to me about poor Goldsmith[814], nothing about Langton[815].
‘I have received for you, from the Society for propagating Christian Knowledge in Scotland[816], the following Erse books:–_The New Testament; Baxter’s Call; The Confession of Faith of the Assembly of Divines at Westminster; The Mother’s Catechism; A Gaelick and English Vocabulary_[817].
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘I wish you could have looked over my book before the printer, but it could not easily be. I suspect some mistakes; but as I deal, perhaps, more in notions than in facts, the matter is not great, and the second edition will be mended, if any such there be. The press will go on slowly for a time, because I am going into Wales to-morrow.
‘I should be very sorry if I appeared to treat such a character as Lord Hailes otherwise than with high respect. I return the sheets[818], to which I have done what mischief I could; and finding it so little, thought not much of sending them. The narrative is clear, lively, and short.
‘I have done worse to Lord Hailes than by neglecting his sheets: I have run him in debt. Dr. Horne, the President of Magdalen College in Oxford, wrote to me about three months ago, that he purposed to reprint _Walton’s Lives_, and desired me to contribute to the work: my answer was, that Lord Hailes intended the same publication; and Dr. Home has resigned it to him[819]. His Lordship must now think seriously about it.
‘Of poor dear Dr. Goldsmith there is little to be told, more than the papers have made publick. He died of a fever, made, I am afraid, more violent by uneasiness of mind. His debts began to be heavy, and all his resources were exhausted. Sir Joshua[820] is of opinion that he owed not less than two thousand pounds[821]. Was ever poet so trusted before?
‘You may, if you please, put the inscription thus:–
“_Maria Scotorum Regina nata_ 15–, _a suis in exilium acta_ 15–, _ab hospita neci data_ 15–.” You must find the years.
‘Of your second daughter you certainly gave the account yourself, though you have forgotten it. While Mrs. Boswell is well, never doubt of a boy. Mrs. Thrale brought, I think, five girls running, but while I was with you she had a boy.
‘I am obliged to you for all your pamphlets, and of the last I hope to make some use. I made some of the former.
‘I am, dear Sir,
‘Your most affectionate servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘July 4, 1774.’
‘My compliments to all the three ladies.’
‘TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘You have reason to reproach me that I have left your last letter so long unanswered, but I had nothing particular to say. Chambers, you find, is gone far, and poor Goldsmith is gone much further. He died of a fever, exasperated, as I believe, by the fear of distress. He had raised money and squandered it, by every artifice of acquisition, and folly of expence. But let not his frailties be remembered; he was a very great man[822].
‘I have just begun to print my _Journey to the Hebrides_, and am leaving the press to take another journey into Wales, whither Mr. Thrale is going, to take possession of, at least, five hundred a year, fallen to his lady. All at Streatham, that are alive[823], are well.
‘I have never recovered from the last dreadful illness[824], but flatter myself that I grow gradually better; much, however, yet remains to mend. [Greek: Kurie eleaeson][825].
‘If you have the Latin version of _Busy, curious, thirsty fly_[826], be so kind as to transcribe and send it; but you need not be in haste, for I shall be I know not where, for at least five weeks. I wrote the following tetastrick on poor Goldsmith:–
[Greek:
‘Ton taphon eisoraas ton Olibaroio koniaen Aphrosi mae semnaen, Xeine, podessi patei Oisi memaele phusis, metron charis, erga palaion, Klaiete posaetaen, istorikon, phusikon.][827]
‘Please to make my most respectful compliments to all the ladies, and remember me to young George and his sisters. I reckon George begins to shew a pair of heels.
‘Do not be sullen now[828], but let me find a letter when I come back.
‘I am, dear Sir,
‘Your affectionate, humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘July 5, 1774.’
‘To MR. ROBERT LEVET.
‘Llewenny[829], in Denbighshire, Aug. 16, 1774.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘Mr. Thrale’s affairs have kept him here a great while, nor do I know exactly when we shall come hence. I have sent you a bill upon Mr. Strahan.
‘I have made nothing of the Ipecacuanha, but have taken abundance of pills, and hope that they have done me good.
‘Wales, so far as I have yet seen of it, is a very beautiful and rich country, all enclosed, and planted. Denbigh is not a mean town. Make my compliments to all my friends, and tell Frank I hope he remembers my advice. When his money is out, let him have more.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Your humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
‘Edinburgh, Aug. 30, 1774.
‘You have given me an inscription for a portrait of Mary Queen of Scots, in which you, in a short and striking manner, point out her hard fate. But you will be pleased to keep in mind, that my picture is a representation of a particular scene in her history; her being forced to resign her crown, while she was imprisoned in the castle of Lochlevin. I must, therefore, beg that you will be kind enough to give me an inscription suited to that particular scene; or determine which of the two formerly transmitted to you is the best; and, at any rate, favour me with an English translation. It will be doubly kind if you comply with my request speedily.
‘Your critical notes on the specimen of Lord Hailes’s _Annals of Scotland_ are excellent, I agreed with you in every one of them. He himself objected only to the alteration of _free to brave_, in the passage where he says that Edward “departed with the glory due to the conquerour of a free people.” He says, “to call the Scots brave would only add to the glory of their conquerour.” You will make allowance for the national zeal of our annalist. I now send a few more leaves of the _Annals_, which I hope you will peruse, and return with observations, as you did upon the former occasion. Lord Hailes writes to me thus:–“Mr. Boswell will be pleased to express the grateful sense which Sir David Dalrymple[830] has of Dr. Johnson’s attention to his little specimen. The further specimen will show, that
“Even in an Edward he can see desert[831].”
‘It gives me much pleasure to hear that a republication of _Isaac Walton’s Lives_ is intended. You have been in a mistake in thinking that Lord Hailes had it in view. I remember one morning[832], while he sat with you in my house, he said, that there should be a new edition of _Walton’s Lives_; and you said that “they should be benoted a little.” This was all that passed on that subject. You must, therefore, inform Dr. Horne, that he may resume his plan, I enclose a note concerning it; and if Dr. Horne will write to me, all the attention that I can give shall be cheerfully bestowed, upon what I think a pious work, the preservation and elucidation of Walton, by whose writings I have been most pleasingly edified.’
* * * * *
‘MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.
‘Edinburgh, Sept. 16, 1774.
‘Wales has probably detained you longer than I supposed. You will have become quite a mountaineer, by visiting Scotland one year and Wales another. You must next go to Switzerland. Cambria will complain, if you do not honour her also with some remarks. And I find _concessere colnmnae_[833], the booksellers expect another book. I am impatient to see your _Tour to Scotland and the Hebrides_[834]. Might you not send me a copy by the post as soon as it is printed off?’
* * * * *
‘TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘Yesterday I returned from my Welch journey, I was sorry to leave my book suspended so long; but having an opportunity of seeing, with so much convenience, a new part of the island, I could not reject it. I have been in five of the six counties of North Wales; and have seen St. Asaph and Bangor, the two seats of their Bishops; have been upon Penmanmaur[835] and Snowden[836], and passed over into Anglesea. But Wales is so little different from England, that it offers nothing to the speculation of the traveller.
‘When I came home, I found several of your papers, with some pages of Lord Hailes’s _Annals_, which I will consider. I am in haste to give you some account of myself, lest you should suspect me of negligence in the pressing business which I find recommended to my care, and which I knew nothing of till now, when all care is vain[837].
‘In the distribution of my books I purpose to follow your advice, adding such as shall occur to me. I am not pleased with your notes of remembrance added to your names, for I hope I shall not easily forget them.
‘I have received four Erse books, without any direction, and suspect that they are intended for the Oxford library. If that is the intention, I think it will be proper to add the metrical psalms, and whatever else is printed in _Erse_, that the present may be complete. The donor’s name should be told.
‘I wish you could have read the book before it was printed, but our distance does not easily permit it.
‘I am sorry Lord Hailes does not intend to publish _Walton_; I am afraid it will not be done so well, if it be done at all.
‘I purpose now to drive the book forward. Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, and let me hear often from you.
‘I am, dear Sir,
‘Your affectionate humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘London, Octob. 1, 1774.’