Boswell's Life of Johnson
have learnt a little from us, and you think yourselves very great men.
Hume would never have written History, had not Voltaire written it
before him. He is an echo of Voltaire.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, we have Lord
Kames.' JOHNSON. 'You HAVE Lord Kames. Keep him; ha, ha, ha! We don't
envy you him. Do you ever see Dr. Robertson?' BOSWELL. 'Yes, Sir.'
JOHNSON. 'Does the dog talk of me?' BOSWELL. 'Indeed, Sir, he does,
and loves you.' Thinking that I now had him in a corner, and being
solicitous for the literary fame of my country, I pressed him for his
opinion on the merit of Dr. Robertson's History of Scotland. But, to my
surprize, he escaped.--'Sir, I love Robertson, and I won't talk of his
book.'
An essay, written by Mr. Deane, a divine of the Church of England,
maintaining the future life of brutes, by an explication of certain
parts of the scriptures, was mentioned, and the doctrine insisted on by
a gentleman who seemed fond of curious speculation. Johnson, who did
not like to hear of any thing concerning a future state which was not
authorised by the regular canons of orthodoxy, discouraged this talk;
and being offended at its continuation, he watched an opportunity
to give the gentleman a blow of reprehension. So, when the poor
speculatist, with a serious metaphysical pensive face, addressed him,
'But really, Sir, when we see a very sensible dog, we don't know what to
think of him;' Johnson, rolling with joy at the thought which beamed in
his eye, turned quickly round, and replied, 'True, Sir: and when we see
a very foolish FELLOW, we don't know what to think of HIM.' He then rose
up, strided to the fire, and stood for some time laughing and exulting.
I asked him if it was not hard that one deviation from chastity should
so absolutely ruin a young woman. Johnson. 'Why, no, Sir; it is
the great principle which she is taught. When she has given up that
principle, she has given up every notion of female honour and virtue,
which are all included in chastity.'
A gentleman talked to him of a lady whom he greatly admired and wished
to marry, but was afraid of her superiority of talents. 'Sir, (said he,)
you need not be afraid; marry her. Before a year goes about, you'll find
that reason much weaker, and that wit not so bright.' Yet the gentleman
may be justified in his apprehension by one of Dr. Johnson's admirable
sentences in his life of Waller: 'He doubtless praised many whom he
would have been afraid to marry; and, perhaps, married one whom he
would have been ashamed to praise. Many qualities contribute to domestic
happiness, upon which poetry has no colours to bestow; and many airs and
sallies may delight imagination, which he who flatters them never can
approve.'
He praised Signor Baretti. 'His account of Italy is a very entertaining
book; and, Sir, I know no man who carries his head higher in
conversation than Baretti. There are strong powers in his mind. He has
not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has, he grapples very
forcibly.'
At this time I observed upon the dial-plate of his watch a short Greek
inscription, taken from the New Testament, [Greek text omitted], being
the first words of our SAVIOUR'S solemn admonition to the improvement of
that time which is allowed us to prepare for eternity: 'the night
cometh when no man can work.' He sometime afterwards laid aside this
dial-plate; and when I asked him the reason, he said, 'It might do very
well upon a clock which a man keeps in his closet; but to have it upon
his watch which he carries about with him, and which is often looked
at by others, might be censured as ostentatious.' Mr. Steevens is now
possessed of the dial-plate inscribed as above.
He remained at Oxford a considerable time; I was obliged to go to
London, where I received his letter, which had been returned from
Scotland.
'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'MY DEAR BOSWELL,--I have omitted a long time to write to you, without
knowing very well why. I could now tell why I should not write; for who
would write to men who publish the letters of their friends, without
their leave? Yet I write to you in spite of my caution, to tell you that
I shall be glad to see you, and that I wish you would empty your head
of Corsica, which I think has filled it rather too long. But, at
all events, I shall be glad, very glad to see you. I am, Sir, yours
affectionately,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Oxford, March 23, 1768.'
Upon his arrival in London in May, he surprized me one morning with a
visit at my lodgings in Half-Moon-street, was quite satisfied with my
explanation, and was in the kindest and most agreeable frame of mind.
As he had objected to a part of one of his letters being published,
I thought it right to take this opportunity of asking him explicitly
whether it would be improper to publish his letters after his death. His
answer was, 'Nay, Sir, when I am dead, you may do as you will.'
He talked in his usual style with a rough contempt of popular liberty.
'They make a rout about UNIVERSAL liberty, without considering that
all that is to be valued, or indeed can be enjoyed by individuals, is
PRIVATE liberty. Political liberty is good only so far as it produces
private liberty. Now, Sir, there is the liberty of the press, which you
know is a constant topick. Suppose you and I and two hundred more were
restrained from printing our thoughts: what then? What proportion would
that restraint upon us bear to the private happiness of the nation?'
This mode of representing the inconveniences of restraint as light and
insignificant, was a kind of sophistry in which he delighted to indulge
himself, in opposition to the extreme laxity for which it has been
fashionable for too many to argue, when it is evident, upon reflection,
that the very essence of government is restraint; and certain it is,
that as government produces rational happiness, too much restraint is
better than too little. But when restraint is unnecessary, and so close
as to gall those who are subject to it, the people may and ought to
remonstrate; and, if relief is not granted, to resist. Of this manly and
spirited principle, no man was more convinced than Johnson himself.
His sincere regard for Francis Barber, his faithful negro servant, made
him so desirous of his further improvement, that he now placed him at a
school at Bishop Stortford, in Hertfordshire. This humane attention
does Johnson's heart much honour. Out of many letters which Mr. Barber
received from his master, he has preserved three, which he kindly gave
me, and which I shall insert according to their dates.
'TO MR. FRANCIS BARBER.
'DEAR FRANCIS,--I have been very much out of order. I am glad to hear
that you are well, and design to come soon to see you. I would have you
stay at Mrs. Clapp's for the present, till I can determine what we shall
do. Be a good boy.
'My compliments to Mrs. Clapp and to Mr. Fowler. I am, your's
affectionately,
SAM. JOHNSON.'
'May 28, 1768.'
Soon afterwards, he supped at the Crown and Anchor tavern, in the
Strand, with a company whom I collected to meet him. They were Dr.
Percy, now Bishop of Dromore, Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, Mr.
Langton, Dr. Robertson the Historian, Dr. Hugh Blair, and Mr. Thomas
Davies, who wished much to be introduced to these eminent Scotch
literati; but on the present occasion he had very little opportunity
of hearing them talk, for with an excess of prudence, for which Johnson
afterwards found fault with them, they hardly opened their lips, and
that only to say something which they were certain would not expose them
to the sword of Goliath; such was their anxiety for their fame when in
the presence of Johnson. He was this evening in remarkable vigour of
mind, and eager to exert himself in conversation, which he did with
great readiness and fluency; but I am sorry to find that I have
preserved but a small part of what passed.
He was vehement against old Dr. Mounsey, of Chelsea College, as 'a
fellow who swore and talked bawdy.' 'I have been often in his company,
(said Dr. Percy,) and never heard him swear or talk bawdy.' Mr. Davies,
who sat next to Dr. Percy, having after this had some conversation
aside with him, made a discovery which, in his zeal to pay court to Dr.
Johnson, he eagerly proclaimed aloud from the foot of the table: 'O,
Sir, I have found out a very good reason why Dr. Percy never heard
Mounsey swear or talk bawdy; for he tells me, he never saw him but at
the Duke of Northumberland's table.' 'And so, Sir, (said Johnson loudly,
to Dr. Percy,) you would shield this man from the charge of swearing and
talking bawdy, because he did not do so at the Duke of Northumberland's
table. Sir, you might as well tell us that you had seen him hold up his
hand at the Old Bailey, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy; or that
you had seen him in the cart at Tyburn, and he neither swore nor talked
bawdy. And is it thus, Sir, that you presume to controvert what I have
related?' Dr. Johnson's animadversion was uttered in such a manner, that
Dr. Percy seemed to be displeased, and soon afterwards left the company,
of which Johnson did not at that time take any notice.
Swift having been mentioned, Johnson, as usual, treated him with little
respect as an authour. Some of us endeavoured to support the Dean of St.
Patrick's by various arguments. One in particular praised his Conduct of
the Allies. JOHNSON. 'Sir, his Conduct of the Allies is a performance of
very little ability.' 'Surely, Sir, (said Dr. Douglas,) you must allow
it has strong facts.' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; but what is that to the
merit of the composition? In the Sessions-paper of the Old Bailey, there
are strong facts. Housebreaking is a strong fact; robbery is a strong
fact; and murder is a MIGHTY strong fact; but is great praise due to the
historian of those strong facts? No, Sir. Swift has told what he had to
tell distinctly enough, but that is all. He had to count ten, and he has
counted it right.' Then recollecting that Mr. Davies, by acting as an
INFORMER, had been the occasion of his talking somewhat too harshly to
his friend Dr. Percy, for which, probably, when the first ebullition
was over, he felt some compunction, he took an opportunity to give him
a hit; so added, with a preparatory laugh, 'Why, Sir, Tom Davies might
have written The Conduct of the Allies.' Poor Tom being thus suddenly
dragged into ludicrous notice in presence of the Scottish Doctors,
to whom he was ambitious of appearing to advantage, was grievously
mortified. Nor did his punishment rest here; for upon subsequent
occasions, whenever he, 'statesman all over,' assumed a strutting
importance, I used to hail him--'the Authour of The Conduct of the
Allies.'
When I called upon Dr. Johnson next morning, I found him highly
satisfied with his colloquial prowess the preceding evening. 'Well,
(said he,) we had good talk.' BOSWELL. 'Yes, Sir; you tossed and gored
several persons.'
The late Alexander, Earl of Eglintoune, who loved wit more than wine,
and men of genius more than sycophants, had a great admiration of
Johnson; but from the remarkable elegance of his own manners, was,
perhaps, too delicately sensible of the roughness which sometimes
appeared in Johnson's behaviour. One evening about this time, when his
Lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with Dr. Robertson and
several other men of literary distinction, he regretted that Johnson
had not been educated with more refinement, and lived more in polished
society. 'No, no, my Lord, (said Signor Baretti,) do with him what you
would, he would always have been a bear.' 'True, (answered the Earl,
with a smile,) but he would have been a DANCING bear.'
To obviate all the reflections which have gone round the world to