Boswell's Life of Johnson
poem; this was the most delicate and pleasing compliment he could pay.
Her respectable friend, Dr. Kippis, from whom I had this anecdote, was
standing by, and was not a little gratified.
Miss Williams told me, that the only other time she was fortunate enough
to be in Dr. Johnson's company, he asked her to sit down by him, which
she did, and upon her inquiring how he was, he answered, 'I am very ill
indeed, Madam. I am very ill even when you are near me; what should I be
were you at a distance?'
He had now a great desire to go to Oxford, as his first jaunt after his
illness; we talked of it for some days, and I had promised to accompany
him. He was impatient and fretful to-night, because I did not at once
agree to go with him on Thursday. When I considered how ill he had been,
and what allowance should be made for the influence of sickness upon
his temper, I resolved to indulge him, though with some inconvenience to
myself, as I wished to attend the musical meeting in honour of Handel,
in Westminster-Abbey, on the following Saturday.
In the midst of his own diseases and pains, he was ever compassionate to
the distresses of others, and actively earnest in procuring them aid, as
appears from a note to Sir Joshua Reynolds, of June, in these words:--'I
am ashamed to ask for some relief for a poor man, to whom, I hope, I
have given what I can be expected to spare. The man importunes me, and
the blow goes round. I am going to try another air on Thursday.'
On Thursday, June 3, the Oxford post-coach took us up in the morning
at Bolt-court. The other two passengers were Mrs. Beresford and her
daughter, two very agreeable ladies from America; they were going to
Worcestershire, where they then resided. Frank had been sent by his
master the day before to take places for us; and I found, from
the waybill, that Dr. Johnson had made our names be put down. Mrs.
Beresford, who had read it, whispered me, 'Is this the great Dr.
Johnson?' I told her it was; so she was then prepared to listen. As she
soon happened to mention in a voice so low that Johnson did not hear it,
that her husband had been a member of the American Congress, I cautioned
her to beware of introducing that subject, as she must know how very
violent Johnson was against the people of that country. He talked a
great deal, but I am sorry I have preserved little of the conversation.
Miss Beresford was so much charmed, that she said to me aside, 'How he
does talk! Every sentence is an essay.' She amused herself in the coach
with knotting; he would scarcely allow this species of employment any
merit. 'Next to mere idleness (said he,) I think knotting is to be
reckoned in the scale of insignificance; though I once attempted to
learn knotting. Dempster's sister (looking to me,) endeavoured to teach
me it; but I made no progress.'
I was surprised at his talking without reserve in the publick post-coach
of the state of his affairs; 'I have (said he,) about the world I think
above a thousand pounds, which I intend shall afford Frank an annuity
of seventy pounds a year.' Indeed his openness with people at a first
interview was remarkable. He said once to Mr. Langton, 'I think I am
like Squire Richard in The Journey to London, "I'm never strange in a
strange place."' He was truly SOCIAL. He strongly censured what is
much too common in England among persons of condition,--maintaining
an absolute silence, when unknown to each other; as for instance, when
occasionally brought together in a room before the master or mistress
of the house has appeared. 'Sir, that is being so uncivilised as not to
understand the common rights of humanity.'
At the inn where we stopped he was exceedingly dissatisfied with some
roast mutton which we had for dinner. The ladies I saw wondered to see
the great philosopher, whose wisdom and wit they had been admiring all
the way, get into ill-humour from such a cause. He scolded the waiter,
saying, 'It is as bad as bad can be: it is ill-fed, ill-killed,
ill-kept, and ill-drest.'
He bore the journey very well, and seemed to feel himself elevated as
he approached Oxford, that magnificent and venerable seat of learning,
Orthodoxy, and Toryism. Frank came in the heavy coach, in readiness to
attend him; and we were received with the most polite hospitality at the
house of his old friend Dr. Adams, Master of Pembroke College, who had
given us a kind invitation. Before we were set down, I communicated to
Johnson, my having engaged to return to London directly, for the reason
I have mentioned, but that I would hasten back to him again. He was
pleased that I had made this journey merely to keep him company. He was
easy and placid with Dr. Adams, Mrs. and Miss Adams, and Mrs. Kennicot,
widow of the learned Hebraean, who was here on a visit. He soon
dispatched the inquiries which were made about his illness and recovery,
by a short and distinct narrative; and then assuming a gay air, repeated
from Swift,--
'Nor think on our approaching ills,
And talk of spectacles and pills.'
I fulfilled my intention by going to London, and returned to Oxford on
Wednesday the 9th of June, when I was happy to find myself again in the
same agreeable circle at Pembroke College, with the comfortable prospect
of making some stay. Johnson welcomed my return with more than ordinary
glee.
Next morning at breakfast, he pointed out a passage in Savage's
Wanderer, saying, 'These are fine verses.' 'If (said he,) I had written
with hostility of Warburton in my Shakspeare, I should have quoted this
couplet:--
"Here Learning, blinded first and then beguil'd,
Looks dark as Ignorance, as Fancy wild."
You see they'd have fitted him to a T,' (smiling.) Dr. ADAMS. 'But you
did not write against Warburton.' JOHNSON. No, Sir, I treated him with
great respect both in my Preface and in my Notes.'
After dinner, when one of us talked of there being a great enmity
between Whig and Tory;--Johnson. 'Why not so much, I think, unless when
they come into competition with each other. There is none when they are
only common acquaintance, none when they are of different sexes. A Tory
will marry into a Whig family, and a Whig into a Tory family, without
any reluctance. But indeed, in a matter of much more concern than
political tenets, and that is religion, men and women do not concern
themselves much about difference of opinion; and ladies set no value on
the moral character of men who pay their addresses to them; the greatest
profligate will be as well received as the man of the greatest virtue,
and this by a very good woman, by a woman who says her prayers three
times a day.' Our ladies endeavoured to defend their sex from this
charge; but he roared them down! 'No, no, a lady will take Jonathan Wild
as readily as St. Austin, if he has threepence more; and, what is worse,
her parents will give her to him. Women have a perpetual envy of our
vices; they are less vicious than we, not from choice, but because we
restrict them; they are the slaves of order and fashion; their virtue is
of more consequence to us than our own, so far as concerns this world.'
Miss Adams mentioned a gentleman of licentious character, and said,
'Suppose I had a mind to marry that gentleman, would my parents
consent?' JOHNSON. 'Yes, they'd consent, and you'd go. You'd go though
they did not consent.' Miss ADAMS. 'Perhaps their opposing might make me
go.' JOHNSON. 'O, very well; you'd take one whom you think a bad man,
to have the pleasure of vexing your parents. You put me in mind of Dr.
Barrowby, the physician, who was very fond of swine's flesh. One day,
when he was eating it, he said, "I wish I was a Jew." "Why so? (said
somebody;) the Jews are not allowed to eat your favourite meat."
"Because, (said he,) I should then have the gust of eating it, with the
pleasure of sinning."' Johnson then proceeded in his declamation.
Miss Adams soon afterwards made an observation that I do not recollect,
which pleased him much: he said with a good-humoured smile, 'That there
should be so much excellence united with so much DEPRAVITY, is strange.'
Indeed, this lady's good qualities, merit, and accomplishments, and her
constant attention to Dr. Johnson, were not lost upon him. She happened
to tell him that a little coffeepot, in which she had made his coffee,
was the only thing she could call her own. He turned to her with a
complacent gallantry, 'Don't say so, my dear; I hope you don't reckon my
heart as nothing.'
On Friday, June 11, we talked at breakfast, of forms of prayer. JOHNSON.
'I know of no good prayers but those in the Book of Common Prayer.' DR.
ADAMS. (in a very earnest manner:) 'I wish, Sir, you would compose some
family prayers.' JOHNSON. 'I will not compose prayers for you, Sir,
because you can do it for yourself. But I have thought of getting
together all the books of prayers which I could, selecting those which
should appear to me the best, putting out some, inserting others, adding
some prayers of my own, and prefixing a discourse on prayer.' We all now
gathered about him, and two or three of us at a time joined in pressing
him to execute this plan. He seemed to be a little displeased at the
manner of our importunity, and in great agitation called out, 'Do not
talk thus of what is so aweful. I know not what time GOD will allow me
in this world. There are many things which I wish to do.' Some of us
persisted, and Dr. Adams said, 'I never was more serious about any thing
in my life.' JOHNSON. 'Let me alone, let me alone; I am overpowered.'
And then he put his hands before his face, and reclined for some time
upon the table.
Dr. Johnson and I went in Dr. Adams's coach to dine with Dr. Nowell,
Principal of St. Mary Hall, at his beautiful villa at Iffley, on the
banks of the Isis, about two miles from Oxford. While we were upon the
road, I had the resolution to ask Johnson whether he thought that the
roughness of his manner had been an advantage or not, and if he would
not have done more good if he had been more gentle. I proceeded to
answer myself thus: 'Perhaps it has been of advantage, as it has given
weight to what you said: you could not, perhaps, have talked with such
authority without it.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I have done more good as I
am. Obscenity and Impiety have always been repressed in my company.'
BOSWELL. 'True, Sir; and that is more than can be said of every Bishop.
Greater liberties have been taken in the presence of a Bishop, though a
very good man, from his being milder, and therefore not commanding
such awe. Yet, Sir, many people who might have been benefited by your
conversation, have been frightened away. A worthy friend of ours has
told me, that he has often been afraid to talk to you.' JOHNSON. 'Sir,
he need not have been afraid, if he had any thing rational to say. If he
had not, it was better he did not talk.'
We talked of a certain clergyman of extraordinary character, who by
exerting his talents in writing on temporary topicks, and displaying
uncommon intrepidity, had raised himself to affluence. I maintained that
we ought not to be indignant at his success; for merit of every sort
was entitled to reward. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I will not allow this man to
have merit. No, Sir; what he has is rather the contrary; I will, indeed,
allow him courage, and on this account we so far give him credit. We
have more respect for a man who robs boldly on the highway, than for a
fellow who jumps out of a ditch, and knocks you down behind your back.
Courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is
always respected, even when it is associated with vice.'
Mr. Henderson, with whom I had sauntered in the venerable walks of
Merton College, and found him a very learned and pious man, supped with