Boswell's Life of Johnson
'Sir, we are not to judge determinately of the state in which a man
leaves this life. He may in a moment have repented effectually, and it
is possible may have been accepted by GOD.'
* I think it necessary to caution my readers against
concluding that in this or any other conversation of Dr.
Johnson, they have his serious and deliberate opinion on the
subject of duelling. In my Journal of a Tour to the
Hebrides, 3rd edit. p. 386 [p. 366, Oct. 24], it appears
that he made this frank confession:--'Nobody at times, talks
more laxly than I do;' and, ib., p. 231 [Sept. 19, 1773],
'He fairly owned he could not explain the rationality of
duelling.' We may, therefore, infer, that he could not
think that justifiable, which seems so inconsistent with the
spirit of the Gospel.--BOSWELL.
Upon being told that old Mr. Sheridan, indignant at the neglect of his
oratorical plans, had threatened to go to America; JOHNSON. 'I hope
he will go to America.' BOSWELL. 'The Americans don't want oratory.'
JOHNSON. 'But we can want Sheridan.'
On Monday, April 29, I found him at home in the forenoon, and Mr. Seward
with him. Horace having been mentioned; BOSWELL. 'There is a great
deal of thinking in his works. One finds there almost every thing but
religion.' SEWARD. 'He speaks of his returning to it, in his Ode Parcus
Deorum cultor et infrequens.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, he was not in earnest: this
was merely poetical.' BOSWELL. 'There are, I am afraid, many people who
have no religion at all.' SEWARD. 'And sensible people too.' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, not sensible in that respect. There must be either a natural
or a moral stupidity, if one lives in a total neglect of so very
important a concern. SEWARD. 'I wonder that there should be people
without religion.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you need not wonder at this, when you
consider how large a proportion of almost every man's life is passed
without thinking of it. I myself was for some years totally regardless
of religion. It had dropped out of my mind. It was at an early part
of my life. Sickness brought it back, and I hope I have never lost it
since.' BOSWELL. 'My dear Sir, what a man must you have been without
religion! Why you must have gone on drinking, and swearing, and--'
JOHNSON (with a smile,) 'I drank enough and swore enough, to be sure.'
SEWARD. 'One should think that sickness and the view of death would make
more men religious.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, they do not know how to go about it:
they have not the first notion. A man who has never had religion before,
no more grows religious when he is sick, than a man who has never learnt
figures can count when he has need of calculation.'
I mentioned Dr. Johnson's excellent distinction between liberty of
conscience and liberty of teaching. JOHNSON. 'Consider, Sir; if you have
children whom you wish to educate in the principles of the Church of
England, and there comes a Quaker who tries to pervert them to his
principles, you would drive away the Quaker. You would not trust to the
predomination of right, which you believe is in your opinions; you would
keep wrong out of their heads. Now the vulgar are the children of the
State. If any one attempts to teach them doctrines contrary to what the
State approves, the magistrate may and ought to restrain him.' SEWARD.
'Would you restrain private conversation, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir,
it is difficult to say where private conversation begins, and where it
ends. If we three should discuss even the great question concerning the
existence of a Supreme Being by ourselves, we should not be restrained;
for that would be to put an end to all improvement. But if we should
discuss it in the presence of ten boarding-school girls, and as many
boys, I think the magistrate would do well to put us in the stocks, to
finish the debate there.'
'How false (said he,) is all this, to say that in ancient times learning
was not a disgrace to a Peer as it is now. In ancient times a Peer was
as ignorant as any one else. He would have been angry to have it thought
he could write his name. Men in ancient times dared to stand forth with
a degree of ignorance with which nobody would dare now to stand forth.
I am always angry when I hear ancient times praised at the expence of
modern times. There is now a great deal more learning in the world than
there was formerly; for it is universally diffused. You have, perhaps,
no man who knows as much Greek and Latin as Bentley; no man who knows as
much mathematicks as Newton: but you have many more men who know Greek
and Latin, and who know mathematicks.'
On Thursday, May 1, I visited him in the evening along with young Mr.
Burke. He said, 'It is strange that there should be so little reading in
the world, and so much writing. People in general do not willingly read,
if they can have any thing else to amuse them. There must be an external
impulse; emulation, or vanity, or avarice. The progress which the
understanding makes through a book, has more pain than pleasure in it.
Language is scanty, and inadequate to express the nice gradations and
mixtures of our feelings. No man reads a book of science from pure
inclination. The books that we do read with pleasure are light
compositions, which contain a quick succession of events. However, I
have this year read all Virgil through. I read a book of the Aeneid
every night, so it was done in twelve nights, and I had great delight
in it. The Georgicks did not give me so much pleasure, except the fourth
book. The Eclogues I have almost all by heart. I do not think the story
of the Aeneid interesting. I like the story of the Odyssey much better;
and this not on account of the wonderful things which it contains;
for there are wonderful things enough in the Aeneid;--the ships of the
Trojans turned to sea-nymphs,--the tree at Polydorus's tomb dropping
blood. The story of the Odyssey is interesting, as a great part of it is
domestick. It has been said, there is pleasure in writing, particularly
in writing verses. I allow you may have pleasure from writing, after
it is over, if you have written well; but you don't go willingly to it
again. I know when I have been writing verses, I have run my finger down
the margin, to see how many I had made, and how few I had to make.'
He seemed to be in a very placid humour, and although I have no note of
the particulars of young Mr. Burke's conversation, it is but justice
to mention in general, that it was such that Dr. Johnson said to me
afterwards, 'He did very well indeed; I have a mind to tell his father.'
I have no minute of any interview with Johnson till Thursday, May 15,
when I find what follows:--BOSWELL. 'I wish much to be in Parliament,
Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, unless you come resolved to support any
administration, you would be the worse for being in Parliament, because
you would be obliged to live more expensively.' BOSWELL. 'Perhaps, Sir,
I should be the less happy for being in Parliament. I never would sell
my vote, and I should be vexed if things went wrong.' JOHNSON. 'That's
cant, Sir. It would not vex you more in the house, than in the gallery:
publick affairs vex no man.' BOSWELL. 'Have not they vexed yourself
a little, Sir? Have not you been vexed by all the turbulence of this
reign, and by that absurd vote of the house of Commons, "That the
influence of the Crown has increased, is increasing, and ought to be
diminished?"' Johnson. 'Sir, I have never slept an hour less, nor eat an
ounce less meat. I would have knocked the factious dogs on the head, to
be sure; but I was not VEXED.' BOSWELL. 'I declare, Sir, upon my honour,
I did imagine I was vexed, and took a pride in it; but it WAS, perhaps,
cant; for I own I neither ate less, nor slept less.' JOHNSON. 'My dear
friend, clear your MIND of cant. You may TALK as other people do: you
may say to a man, "Sir, I am your most humble servant." You are not
his most humble servant. You may say, "These are bad times; it is a
melancholy thing to be reserved to such times." You don't mind the
times. You tell a man, "I am sorry you had such bad weather the last day
of your journey, and were so much wet." You don't care six-pence whether
he is wet or dry. You may TALK in this manner; it is a mode of talking
in Society: but don't THINK foolishly.'
Here he discovered a notion common enough in persons not much accustomed
to entertain company, that there must be a degree of elaborate
attention, otherwise company will think themselves neglected; and
such attention is no doubt very fatiguing. He proceeded: 'I would not,
however, be a stranger in my own county; I would visit my neighbours,
and receive their visits; but I would not be in haste to return visits.
If a gentleman comes to see me, I tell him he does me a great deal of
honour. I do not go to see him perhaps for ten weeks; then we are very
complaisant to each other. No, Sir, you will have much more influence by
giving or lending money where it is wanted, than by hospitality.'
On Saturday, May 17, I saw him for a short time. Having mentioned that I
had that morning been with old Mr. Sheridan, he remembered their former
intimacy with a cordial warmth, and said to me, 'Tell Mr. Sheridan, I
shall be glad to see him, and shake hands with him.' BOSWELL. 'It is to
me very wonderful that resentment should be kept up so long.' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, it is not altogether resentment that he does not visit me;
it is partly falling out of the habit,--partly disgust, as one has at
a drug that has made him sick. Besides, he knows that I laugh at his
oratory.'
Another day I spoke of one of our friends, of whom he, as well as I, had
a very high opinion. He expatiated in his praise; but added, 'Sir, he is
a cursed Whig, a BOTTOMLESS Whig, as they all are now.'
On Monday, May 26, I found him at tea, and the celebrated Miss Burney,
the authour of Evelina and Cecilia, with him. I asked if there would
be any speakers in Parliament, if there were no places to be obtained.
JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. Why do you speak here? Either to instruct and
entertain, which is a benevolent motive; or for distinction, which is a
selfish motive.' I mentioned Cecilia. JOHNSON. (with an air of animated
satisfaction,) 'Sir, if you talk of Cecilia, talk on.'
We talked of Mr. Barry's exhibition of his pictures. JOHNSON. 'Whatever
the hand may have done, the mind has done its part. There is a grasp of
mind there which you find nowhere else.'
I asked whether a man naturally virtuous, or one who has overcome
wicked inclinations, is the best. JOHNSON. 'Sir, to YOU, the man who
has overcome wicked inclinations is not the best. He has more merit to
HIMSELF: I would rather trust my money to a man who has no hands, and
so a physical impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest
principles. There is a witty satirical story of Foote. He had a small
bust of Garrick placed upon his bureau. "You may be surprized (said he,)
that I allow him to be so near my gold;--but you will observe he has no
hands."'
On Friday, May 29, being to set out for Scotland next morning, I passed
a part of the day with him in more than usual earnestness; as his health
was in a more precarious state than at any time when I had parted
from him. He, however, was quick and lively, and critical as usual. I
mentioned one who was a very learned man. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, he has a
great deal of learning; but it never lies straight. There is never one
idea by the side of another; 'tis all entangled: and their he drives it
so aukwardly upon conversation.'
He said, 'Get as much force of mind as you can. Live within your income.
Always have something saved at the end of the year. Let your imports be
more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong.
I assured him, that in the extensive and various range of his