Boswell's Life of Johnson
is a very desirable occupation for you. Do you hear,--take all the pains
you can; and if this does not do, we must think of some other way of
life for you. There's a guinea.'
Here was one of the many, many instances of his active benevolence. At
the same time, the slow and sonorous solemnity with which, while he bent
himself down, he addressed a little thick short-legged boy, contrasted
with the boy's aukwardness and awe, could not but excite some ludicrous
emotions.
I met him at Drury-lane play-house in the evening. Sir Joshua Reynolds,
at Mrs. Abington's request, had promised to bring a body of wits to her
benefit; and having secured forty places in the front boxes, had done
me the honour to put me in the group. Johnson sat on the seat directly
behind me; and as he could neither see nor hear at such a distance from
the stage, he was wrapped up in grave abstraction, and seemed quite a
cloud, amidst all the sunshine of glitter and gaiety. I wondered at his
patience in sitting out a play of five acts, and a farce of two. He said
very little; but after the prologue to Bon Ton had been spoken, which
he could hear pretty well from the more slow and distinct utterance, he
talked of prologue-writing, and observed, 'Dryden has written prologues
superiour to any that David Garrick has written; but David Garrick has
written more good prologues than Dryden has done. It is wonderful that
he has been able to write such variety of them.'
At Mr. Beauclerk's, where I supped, was Mr. Garrick, whom I made happy
with Johnson's praise of his prologues; and I suppose, in gratitude to
him, he took up one of his favourite topicks, the nationality of the
Scotch, which he maintained in a pleasant manner, with the aid of a
little poetical fiction. 'Come, come, don't deny it: they are really
national. Why, now, the Adams are as liberal-minded men as any in the
world: but, I don't know how it is, all their workmen are Scotch. You
are, to be sure, wonderfully free from that nationality: but so it
happens, that you employ the only Scotch shoe-black in London.' He
imitated the manner of his old master with ludicrous exaggeration;
repeating, with pauses and half-whistlings interjected,
'Os homini sublime dedit,--caelumque tueri
Jussit,--et erectos ad sidera--tollere vultus';
looking downwards all the time, and, while pronouncing the four
last words, absolutely touching the ground with a kind of contorted
gesticulation.
Garrick, however, when he pleased, could imitate Johnson very exactly;
for that great actor, with his distinguished powers of expression which
were so universally admired, possessed also an admirable talent of
mimickry. He was always jealous that Johnson spoke lightly of him. I
recollect his exhibiting him to me one day, as if saying, 'Davy has
some convivial pleasantry about him, but 'tis a futile fellow;' which he
uttered perfectly with the tone and air of Johnson.
I cannot too frequently request of my readers, while they peruse my
account of Johnson's conversation, to endeavour to keep in mind his
deliberate and strong utterance. His mode of speaking was indeed very
impressive; and I wish it could be preserved as musick is written,
according to the very ingenious method of Mr. Steele, who has shewn
how the recitation of Mr. Garrick, and other eminent speakers, might be
transmitted to posterity IN SCORE.
Next day I dined with Johnson at Mr. Thrale's. He attacked Gray, calling
him 'a dull fellow.' BOSWELL. 'I understand he was reserved, and might
appear dull in company; but surely he was not dull in poetry.' JOHNSON.
'Sir, he was dull in company, dull in his closet, dull every where. He
was dull in a new way, and that made many people think him GREAT. He was
a mechanical poet.' He then repeated some ludicrous lines, which have
escaped my memory, and said, 'Is not that GREAT, like his Odes?' Mrs.
Thrale maintained that his Odes were melodious; upon which he exclaimed,
'Weave the warp, and weave the woof;'--
I added, in a solemn tone,
'The winding-sheet of Edward's race.'
'THERE is a good line.' 'Ay, (said he,) and the next line is a good
one,' (pronouncing it contemptuously;)
'Give ample verge and room enough.'--
'No, Sir, there are but two good stanzas in Gray's poetry, which are in
his Elegy in a Country Church-yard.' He then repeated the stanza,
'For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,' &c.
mistaking one word; for instead of precincts he said confines. He added,
'The other stanza I forget.'
A young lady who had married a man much her inferiour in rank being
mentioned, a question arose how a woman's relations should behave to her
in such a situation; and, while I recapitulate the debate, and recollect
what has since happened, I cannot but be struck in a manner that
delicacy forbids me to express. While I contended that she ought to be
treated with an inflexible steadiness of displeasure, Mrs. Thrale was
all for mildness and forgiveness, and, according to the vulgar phrase,
'making the best of a bad bargain.' JOHNSON. Madam, we must distinguish.
Were I a man of rank, I would not let a daughter starve who had made a
mean marriage; but having voluntarily degraded herself from the station
which she was originally entitled to hold, I would support her only in
that which she herself had chosen; and would not put her on a level with
my other daughters. You are to consider, Madam, that it is our duty to
maintain the subordination of civilized society; and when there is a
gross and shameful deviation from rank, it should be punished so as to
deter others from the same perversion.'
On Friday, March 31, I supped with him and some friends at a tavern. One
of the company* attempted, with too much forwardness, to rally him on
his late appearance at the theatre; but had reason to repent of his
temerity. 'Why, Sir, did you go to Mrs. Abington's benefit? Did you
see?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' 'Did you hear?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir.' 'Why then,
Sir, did you go?' JOHNSON. 'Because, Sir, she is a favourite of the
publick; and when the publick cares the thousandth part for you that it
does for her, I will go to your benefit too.'
* Very likely Boswell.--HILL.
Next morning I won a small bet from Lady Diana Beauclerk, by asking him
as to one of his particularities, which her Ladyship laid I durst not
do. It seems he had been frequently observed at the Club to put into his
pocket the Seville oranges, after he had squeezed the juice of them into
the drink which he made for himself. Beauclerk and Garrick talked of
it to me, and seemed to think that he had a strange unwillingness to be
discovered. We could not divine what he did with them; and this was the
bold question to be put. I saw on his table the spoils of the preceding
night, some fresh peels nicely scraped and cut into pieces. 'O, Sir,
(said I,) I now partly see what you do with the squeezed oranges which
you put into your pocket at the Club.' JOHNSON. 'I have a great love
for them.' BOSWELL. 'And pray, Sir, what do you do with them? You scrape
them, it seems, very neatly, and what next?' JOHNSON. 'Let them dry,
Sir.' BOSWELL. 'And what next?' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, you shall know their
fate no further.' BOSWELL. 'Then the world must be left in the dark. It
must be said (assuming a mock solemnity,) he scraped them, and let them
dry, but what he did with them next, he never could be prevailed upon
to tell.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, you should say it more emphatically:--he
could not be prevailed upon, even by his dearest friends, to tell.'
He had this morning received his Diploma as Doctor of Laws from the
University of Oxford. He did not vaunt of his new dignity, but I
understood he was highly pleased with it.
I observed to him that there were very few of his friends so accurate
as that I could venture to put down in writing what they told me as his
sayings. JOHNSON. 'Why should you write down MY sayings?' BOSWELL. 'I
write them when they are good.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, you may as well write
down the sayings of any one else that are good.' But WHERE, I might with
great propriety have added, can I find such?
Next day, Sunday, April 2, I dined with him at Mr. Hoole's. We talked
of Pope. JOHNSON. 'He wrote, his Dunciad for fame. That was his primary
motive. Had it not been for that, the dunces might have railed against
him till they were weary, without his troubling himself about them. He
delighted to vex them, no doubt; but he had more delight in seeing how
well he could vex them.'
His Taxation no Tyranny being mentioned, he said, 'I think I have not
been attacked enough for it. Attack is the re-action; I never think I
have hit hard, unless it rebounds.' BOSWELL. 'I don't know, Sir, what
you would be at. Five or six shots of small arms in every newspaper,
and repeated cannonading in pamphlets, might, I think, satisfy you. But,
Sir, you'll never make out this match, of which we have talked, with
a certain political lady,* since you are so severe against her
principles.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, I have the better chance for that. She
is like the Amazons of old; she must be courted by the sword. But I
have not been severe upon her.' BOSWELL. 'Yes, Sir, you have made her
ridiculous.' JOHNSON. 'That was already done, Sir. To endeavour to make
HER ridiculous, is like blacking the chimney.'
* Croker identifies her as Mrs. Macaulay. See p. 119.--ED.
I talked of the cheerfulness of Fleet-street, owing to the constant
quick succession of people which we perceive passing through it.
JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, Fleet-street has a very animated appearance; but I
think the full tide of human existence is at Charing-cross.'
He made the common remark on the unhappiness which men who have led
a busy life experience, when they retire in expectation of enjoying
themselves at ease, and that they generally languish for want of their
habitual occupation, and wish to return to it. He mentioned as strong an
instance of this as can well be imagined. 'An eminent tallow-chandler
in London, who had acquired a considerable fortune, gave up the trade in
favour of his foreman, and went to live at a country-house near town.
He soon grew weary, and paid frequent visits to his old shop, where he
desired they might let him know their melting-days, and he would come
and assist them; which he accordingly did. Here, Sir, was a man, to whom
the most disgusting circumstance in the business to which he had been
used was a relief from idleness.'
On Wednesday, April 5, I dined with him at Messieurs Dilly's, with Mr.
John Scott of Amwell, the Quaker, Mr. Langton, Mr. Miller, (now Sir
John,) and Dr. Thomas Campbell, an Irish clergyman, whom I took the
liberty of inviting to Mr. Dilly's table, having seen him at Mr.
Thrale's, and been told that he had come to England chiefly with a view
to see Dr. Johnson, for whom he entertained the highest veneration. He
has since published A Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland, a
very entertaining book, which has, however, one fault;--that it assumes
the fictitious character of an Englishman.
We talked of publick speaking--JOHNSON. 'We must not estimate a man's
powers by his being able, or not able to deliver his sentiments in
publick. Isaac Hawkins Browne, one of the first wits of this country,
got into Parliament, and never opened his mouth. For my own part, I
think it is more disgraceful never to try to speak, than to try it
and fail; as it is more disgraceful not to fight, than to fight and be
beaten.' This argument appeared to me fallacious; for if a man has
not spoken, it may be said that he would have done very well it he had
tried; whereas, if he has tried and failed, there is nothing to be said
for him. 'Why then, (I asked,) is it thought disgraceful for a man