Boswell's Life of Johnson
JOHNSON. 'Sir, this is all imagination, which physicians encourage; for
man lives in air, as a fish lives in water; so that if the atmosphere
press heavy from above, there is an equal resistance from below. To be
sure, bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be abroad; and
men cannot labour so well in the open air in bad weather, as in good:
but, Sir, a smith or a taylor, whose work is within doors, will surely
do as much in rainy weather, as in fair. Some very delicate frames,
indeed, may be affected by wet weather; but not common constitutions.'
We talked of the education of children; and I asked him what he thought
was best to teach them first. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is no matter what
you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your
breeches first. Sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in
first, but in the mean time your breech is bare. Sir, while you are
considering which of two things you should teach your child first,
another boy has learnt them both.'
On Thursday, July 28, we again supped in private at the Turk's Head
coffee-house. JOHNSON. 'Swift has a higher reputation than he deserves.
His excellence is strong sense; for his humour, though very well, is not
remarkably good. I doubt whether The Tale of a Tub be his; for he never
owned it, and it is much above his usual manner.'
'Thomson, I think, had as much of the poet about him as most writers.
Every thing appeared to him through the medium of his favourite pursuit.
He could not have viewed those two candles burning but with a poetical
eye.'
'As to the Christian religion, Sir, besides the strong evidence which we
have for it, there is a balance in its favour from the number of great
men who have been convinced of its truth, after a serious consideration
of the question. Grotius was an acute man, a lawyer, a man accustomed to
examine evidence, and he was convinced. Grotius was not a recluse, but a
man of the world, who certainly had no bias to the side of religion. Sir
Isaac Newton set out an infidel, and came to be a very firm believer.'
He this evening recommended to me to perambulate Spain. I said it would
amuse him to get a letter from me dated at Salamancha. JOHNSON. 'I love
the University of Salamancha; for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to
the lawfulness of their conquering America, the University of Salamancha
gave it as their opinion that it was not lawful.' He spoke this with
great emotion, and with that generous warmth which dictated the lines in
his London, against Spanish encroachment.
I expressed my opinion of my friend Derrick as but a poor writer.
JOHNSON. 'To be sure, Sir, he is; but you are to consider that his being
a literary man has got for him all that he has. It has made him King of
Bath. Sir, he has nothing to say for himself but that he is a writer.
Had he not been a writer, he must have been sweeping the crossings in
the streets, and asking halfpence from every body that past.'
In justice however, to the memory of Mr. Derrick, who was my first tutor
in the ways of London, and shewed me the town in all its variety of
departments, both literary and sportive, the particulars of which Dr.
Johnson advised me to put in writing, it is proper to mention what
Johnson, at a subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an
editor: 'Sir, I have often said, that if Derrick's letters had been
written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought
very pretty letters.' And, 'I sent Derrick to Dryden's relations to
gather materials for his life; and I believe he got all that I myself
should have got.'
Johnson said once to me, 'Sir, I honour Derrick for his presence of
mind. One night, when Floyd, another poor authour, was wandering about
the streets in the night, he found Derrick fast asleep upon a bulk; upon
being suddenly waked, Derrick started up, "My dear Floyd, I am sorry
to see you in this destitute state; will you go home with me to MY
LODGINGS?"'
I again begged his advice as to my method of study at Utrecht. 'Come,
(said he) let us make a day of it. Let us go down to Greenwich and
dine, and talk of it there.' The following Saturday was fixed for this
excursion.
As we walked along the Strand to-night, arm in arm, a woman of the
town accosted us, in the usual enticing manner. 'No, no, my girl, (said
Johnson) it won't do.' He, however, did not treat her with harshness,
and we talked of the wretched life of such women; and agreed, that
much more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced by illicit
commerce between the sexes.
On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler at the
Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich. I asked him if he really
thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential
requisite to a good education. JOHNSON. 'Most certainly, Sir; for those
who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. Nay,
Sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even
in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much
connected with it.' 'And yet, (said I) people go through the world
very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without
learning.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning
cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as
well without learning, as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the
Argonauts, who were the first sailors.' He then called to the boy, 'What
would you give, my lad, to know about the Argonauts?' 'Sir, (said the
boy,) I would give what I have.' Johnson was much pleased with his
answer, and we gave him a double fare. Dr. Johnson then turning to me,
'Sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind;
and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to
give all that he has to get knowledge.'
We landed at the Old Swan, and walked to Billingsgate, where we took
oars, and moved smoothly along the silver Thames. It was a very fine
day. We were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships
that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side
of the river.
I talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called
Methodists have. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is owing to their expressing
themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do
good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning
ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their
congregations; a practice, for which they will be praised by men of
sense. To insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases
reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common
people: but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness,
and shew them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep
impression. Sir, when your Scotch clergy give up their homely manner,
religion will soon decay in that country.' Let this observation, as
Johnson meant it, be ever remembered.
I was much pleased to find myself with Johnson at Greenwich, which he
celebrates in his London as a favourite scene. I had the poem in my
pocket, and read the lines aloud with enthusiasm:
'On Thames's banks in silent thought we stood:
Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood:
Pleas'd with the seat which gave ELIZA birth,
We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.'
Afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me
his advice as to a course of study.
We walked in the evening in Greenwich Park. He asked me, I suppose,
by way of trying my disposition, 'Is not this very fine?' Having no
exquisite relish of the beauties of Nature, and being more delighted
with 'the busy hum of men,' I answered, 'Yes, Sir; but not equal to
Fleet-street.' JOHNSON. 'You are right, Sir.'
I am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste. Let
me, however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fashionable
Baronet in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called to
the fragrance of a May evening in the country, observed, 'This may be
very well; but, for my part, I prefer the smell of a flambeau at the
playhouse.'
We staid so long at Greenwich, that our sail up the river, in our return
to London, was by no means so pleasant as in the morning; for the night
air was so cold that it made me shiver. I was the more sensible of it
from having sat up all the night before, recollecting and writing in
my journal what I thought worthy of preservation; an exertion, which,
during the first part of my acquaintance with Johnson, I frequently
made. I remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being
much incommoded in the day time.
Johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected by the cold,
scolded me, as if my shivering had been a paltry effeminacy, saying,
'Why do you shiver?' Sir William Scott, of the Commons, told me, that
when he complained of a head-ache in the post-chaise, as they were
travelling together to Scotland, Johnson treated him in the same manner:
'At your age, Sir, I had no head-ache.'
We concluded the day at the Turk's Head coffee-house very socially. He
was pleased to listen to a particular account which I gave him of my
family, and of its hereditary estate, as to the extent and population
of which he asked questions, and made calculations; recommending, at the
same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over whom
the proprietor was placed by Providence. He took delight in hearing my
description of the romantick seat of my ancestors. 'I must be there,
Sir, (said he) and we will live in the old castle; and if there is not
a room in it remaining, we will build one.' I was highly flattered, but
could scarcely indulge a hope that Auchinleck would indeed be honoured
by his presence, and celebrated by a description, as it afterwards was,
in his Journey to the Western Islands.
After we had again talked of my setting out for Holland, he said, 'I
must see thee out of England; I will accompany you to Harwich.' I could
not find words to express what I felt upon this unexpected and very
great mark of his affectionate regard.
Next day, Sunday, July 31, I told him I had been that morning at a
meeting of the people called Quakers, where I had heard a woman preach.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder
legs. It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at
all.'
On Tuesday, August 2 (the day of my departure from London having been
fixed for the 5th,) Dr. Johnson did me the honour to pass a part of
the morning with me at my Chambers. He said, that 'he always felt an
inclination to do nothing.' I observed, that it was strange to think
that the most indolent man in Britain had written the most laborious
work, The English Dictionary.
I had now made good my title to be a privileged man, and was carried by
him in the evening to drink tea with Miss Williams, whom, though under
the misfortune of having lost her sight, I found to be agreeable in
conversation; for she had a variety of literature, and expressed herself
well; but her peculiar value was the intimacy in which she had long
lived with Johnson, by which she was well acquainted with his habits,
and knew how to lead him on to talk.
After tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long
narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed by some trees.
There we sauntered a considerable time; and I complained to him that my
love of London and of his company was such, that I shrunk almost from
the thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally so much
desired by young men. He roused me by manly and spirited conversation.
He advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study with an