The Life of Samuel Johnson

by James Boswell

  He talked to me with serious concern of a certain female friend’s767 ‘laxity of narration, and inattention to truth.’ – ‘I am as much vexed (said he,) at the ease with which she hears it mentioned to her, as at the thing itself. I told her, “Madam, you are contented to hear every day said to you, what the highest of mankind have died for, rather than bear.” – You know, Sir, the highest of mankind have died rather than bear to be told they had uttered a falsehood. Do talk to her of it: I am weary.’

  BOSWELL. ‘Was not Dr. John Campbell a very inaccurate man in his narrative, Sir? He once told me, that he drank thirteen bottles of port at a sitting.’a JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, I do not know that Campbell ever lied with pen and ink; but you could not entirely depend on any thing he told you in conversation, if there was fact mixed with it. However, I loved Campbell: he was a solid orthodox man: he had a reverence for religion. Though defective in practice, he was religious in principle; and he did nothing grossly wrong that I have heard.’

  I told him, that I had been present the day before, when Mrs. Montagu, the literary lady, sat to Miss Reynolds for her picture; and that she said, ‘she had bound up Mr. Gibbon’s History without the last two offensive chapters; for that she thought the book so far good, as it gave, in an elegant manner, the substance of the bad writers medii &vi,768 which the late Lord Lyttelton advised her to read.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, she has not read them: she shews none of this impetuosity to me: she does not know Greek, and, I fancy, knows little Latin. She is willing you should think she knows them; but she does not say she does.’ BOSWELL. ‘Mr. Harris, who was present, agreed with her.’ JOHNSON. ‘Harris was laughing at her, Sir. Harris is a sound sullen scholar; he does not like interlopers. Harris, however, is a prig, and a bad prig.a I looked into his book, and thought he did not understand his own system.’ BOSWELL. ‘He says plain things in a formal and abstract way, to be sure: but his method is good: for to have clear notions upon any subject, we must have recourse to analytick arrangement.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, it is what every body does, whether they will or no. But sometimes things may be made darker by definition. I see a cow, I define her, Animal quadrupes ruminans cornutum.771 But a goat ruminates, and a cow may have no horns. Cow is plainer.’ BOSWELL. ‘I think Dr. Franklin’s definition of Man a good one – “A tool-making animal.”’ JOHNSON. ‘But many a man never made a tool; and suppose a man without arms, he could not make a tool.’

  Talking of drinking wine, he said, ‘I did not leave off wine because I could not bear it; I have drunk three bottles of port without being the worse for it. University College has witnessed this.’ BOSWELL. ‘Why then, Sir, did you leave it off?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, because it is so much better for a man to be sure that he is never to be intoxicated, never to lose the power over himself. I shall not begin to drink wine again, till I grow old, and want it.’ BOSWELL. ‘I think, Sir, you once said to me, that not to drink wine was a great deduction from life.’ JOHNSON. ‘It is a diminution of pleasure, to be sure; but I do not say a diminution of happiness. There is more happiness in being rational.’ BOSWELL. ‘But if we could have pleasure always, should not we be happy? The greatest part of men would compound for pleasure.’ JOHNSON. ‘Supposing we could have pleasure always, an intellectual man would not compound for it. The greatest part of men would compound, because the greatest part of men are gross.’ BOSWELL. ‘I allow there may be greater pleasure than from wine. I have had more pleasure from your conversation, I have indeed; I assure you I have.’ JOHNSON. ‘When we talk of pleasure, we mean sensual pleasure. When a man says, he had pleasure with a woman, he does not mean conversation, but something of a very different nature. Philosophers tell you, that pleasure is contrary to happiness. Gross men prefer animal pleasure. So there are men who have preferred living among savages. Now what a wretch must he be, who is content with such conversation as can be had among savages! You may remember an officer at Fort Augustus, who had served in America, told us of a woman whom they were obliged to bind, in order to get her back from savage life.’ BOSWELL. ‘She must have been an animal, a beast.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, she was a speaking cat.’

  I mentioned to him that I had become very weary in a company where I heard not a single intellectual sentence, except that ‘a man who had been settled ten years in Minorca was become a much inferiour man to what he was in London, because a man’s mind grows narrow in a narrow place.’ JOHNSON. ‘A man’s mind grows narrow in a narrow place, whose mind is enlarged only because he has lived in a large place: but what is got by books and thinking is preserved in a narrow place as well as in a large place. A man cannot know modes of life as well in Minorca as in London; but he may study mathematicks as well in Minorca.’ BOSWELL. ‘I don’t know, Sir: if you had remained ten years in the Isle of Col, you would not have been the man that you now are.’ JOHNSON. ‘Yes, Sir, if I had been there from fifteen to twenty-five; but not if from twenty-five to thirty-five.’ BOSWELL. ‘I own, Sir, the spirits which I have in London make me do every thing with more readiness and vigour. I can talk twice as much in London as any where else.’

  Of Goldsmith he said, ‘He was not an agreeable companion, for he talked always for fame. A man who does so never can be pleasing. The man who talks to unburthen his mind is the man to delight you. An eminent friend of ours772 is not so agreeable as the variety of his knowledge would otherwise make him, because he talks partly from ostentation.’

  Soon after our arrival at Thrale’s, I heard one of the maids calling eagerly on another, to go to Dr. JOHNSON. I wondered what this could mean. I afterwards learnt, that it was to give her a Bible, which he had brought from London as a present to her.

  He was for a considerable time occupied in reading Memoires de Fontenelle, leaning and swinging upon the low gate into the court, without his hat.

  I looked into Lord Kames’s Sketches of the History of Man; and mentioned to Dr. Johnson his censure of Charles the Fifth, for celebrating his funeral obsequies in his life-time, which, I told him, I had been used to think a solemn and affecting act. JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, a man may dispose his mind to think so of that act of Charles; but it is so liable to ridicule, that if one man out of ten thousand laughs at it, he’ll make the other nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine laugh too.’ I could not agree with him in this.

  Sir John Pringle had expressed a wish that I would ask Dr. Johnson’s opinion what were the best English sermons for style. I took an opportunity to-day of mentioning several to him. –‘Atterbury?’ JOHNSON. ‘Yes, Sir, one of the best.’ BOSWELL. ‘Tillotson? JOHNSON. ‘Why, not now. I should not advise a preacher at this day to imitate Tillotson’s style: though I don’t know; I should be cautious of objecting to what has been applauded by so many suffrages. –South is one of the best, if you except his peculiarities, and his violence, and sometimes coarseness of language. –Seed has a very fine style; but he is not very theological. – Jortin’s sermons are very elegant. –Sherlock’s style too is very elegant, though he has not made it his principal study. – And you may add Smallridge. All the latter preachers have a good style. Indeed, nobody now talks much of style: every body composes pretty well. There are no such unharmonious periods as there were a hundred years ago. I should recommend Dr. Clarke’s sermons, were he orthodox. However, it is very well known where he was not orthodox, which was upon the doctrine of the Trinity, as to which he is a condemned heretick; so one is aware of it.’ BOSWELL. ‘I like Ogden’s Sermons on Prayer very much, both for neatness of style and subtilty of reasoning.’ JOHNSON. ‘I should like to read all that Ogden has written.’ BOSWELL. ‘What I wish to know is, what sermons afford the best specimen of English pulpit eloquence.’ JOHNSON. ‘We have no sermons addressed to the passions that are good for any thing; if you mean that kind of eloquence.’ A CLERGYMAN:773 (whose name I do not recollect.) ‘Were not Dodd’s sermons addressed to the passions?’ JOHNSON. ‘They were nothing, Sir, be they addressed to what they may.’

  At dinner, Mrs. Thrale expressed a wish to go and see
Scotland. JOHNSON. ‘Seeing Scotland, Madam, is only seeing a worse England. It is seeing the flower gradually fade away to the naked stalk. Seeing the Hebrides, indeed, is seeing quite a different scene.’

  Our poor friend, Mr. Thomas Davies, was soon to have a benefit at Drury-lane theatre, as some relief to his unfortunate circumstances. We were all warmly interested for his success, and had contributed to it. However, we thought there was no harm in having our joke, when he could not be hurt by it. I proposed that he should be brought on to speak a Prologue upon the occasion; and I began to mutter fragments of what it might be: as, that when now grown old, he was obliged to cry, ‘Poor Tom’s a-cold;’774 – that he owned he had been driven from the stage by a Churchill, but that this was no disgrace, for a Churchill had beat the French; – that he had been satyrised as ‘mouthing a sentence as curs mouth a bone,’ but he was now glad of a bone to pick. – ‘Nay, (said Johnson,) I would have him to say,

  “Mad Tom is come to see the world again.”’775

  He and I returned to town in the evening. Upon the road, I endeavoured to maintain, in argument, that a landed gentleman is not under any obligation to reside upon his estate; and that by living in London he does no injury to his country. JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, he does no injury to his country in general, because the money which he draws from it gets back again in circulation; but to his particular district, his particular parish, he does an injury. All that he has to give away is not given to those who have the first claim to it. And though I have said that the money circulates back, it is a long time before that happens. Then, Sir, a man of family and estate ought to consider himself as having the charge of a district, over which he is to diffuse civility and happiness.’

  Next day I found him at home in the morning. He praised Delany’s Observations on Swift; said that his book and Lord Orrery’s might both be true, though one viewed Swift more, and the other less favourably; and that, between both, we might have a complete notion of Swift.

  Talking of a man’s resolving to deny himself the use of wine, from moral and religious considerations, he said, ‘He must not doubt about it. When one doubts as to pleasure, we know what will be the conclusion. I now no more think of drinking wine, than a horse does. The wine upon the table is no more for me, than for the dog that is under the table.’

  On Thursday, April 9, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s, with the Bishop of St. Asaph, (Dr. Shipley,) Mr. Allan Ramsay, Mr. Gibbon, Mr. Cambridge, and Mr. Langton. Mr. Ramsay had lately returned from Italy, and entertained us with his observations upon Horace’s villa, which he had examined with great care. I relished this much, as it brought fresh into my mind what I had viewed with great pleasure thirteen years before. The Bishop, Dr. Johnson, and Mr. Cambridge, joined with Mr. Ramsay, in recollecting the various lines in Horace relating to the subject.

  Horace’s journey to Brundusium being mentioned, Johnson observed, that the brook which he describes is to be seen now, exactly as at that time, and that he had often wondered how it happened, that small brooks, such as this, kept the same situation for ages, notwithstanding earthquakes, by which even mountains have been changed, and agriculture, which produces such a variation upon the surface of the earth. Cambridge. A Spanish writer has this thought in a poetical conceit. After observing that most of the solid structures of Rome are totally perished, while the Tiber remains the same, he adds,

  “Lo que era Firme buio solamente,

  Lo Fugitivo permanece y dura.” ‘776

  JOHNSON. ‘Sir, that is taken from Janus Vitalis:

  “––––––immota labescunt;

  Et quce perpetub sunt agitata manent.” ‘777

  The Bishop said, it appeared from Horace’s writings that he was a cheerful contented man. JOHNSON. ‘We have no reason to believe that, my Lord. Are we to think Pope was happy, because he says so in his writings? We see in his writings what he wished the state of his mind to appear. Dr. Young, who pined for preferment, talks with contempt of it in his writings, and affects to despise every thing that he did not despise.’ Bishop of St. Asaph. ‘He was like other chaplains, looking for vacancies: but that is not peculiar to the clergy. I remember when I was with the army, after the battle of Lafeldt, the officers seriously grumbled that no general was killed.’ CAMBRIDGE. ‘We may believe Horace more when he says,

  “Komce Tibur amem, ventosus Tibure Romam;” 778

  than when he boasts of his consistency:

  “Me constare mihi scis, et decedere tristem,

  Quandocunque trahunt invisa negotia Romam.”’779

  BOSWELL. ‘How hard is it that man can never be at rest.’ RAMSAY. ‘It is not in his nature to be at rest. When he is at rest, he is in the worst state that he can be in; for he has nothing to agitate him. He is then like the man in the Irish song,

  “There liv’d a young man in Ballinacrazy,

  Who wanted a wife for to make him unaisy.”’

  Goldsmith being mentioned, Johnson observed, that it was long before his merit came to be acknowledged. That he once complained to him, in ludicrous terms of distress, ‘Whenever I write any thing, the publick make a point to know nothing about it:’ but that his Traveller brought him into high reputation. Langton. ‘There is not one bad line in that poem; not one of Dryden’s careless verses.’ Sir Joshua. ‘I was glad to hear Charles Fox say, it was one of the finest poems in the English language.’ LANGTON. ‘Why was you glad? You surely had no doubt of this before.’ JOHNSON. ‘No; the merit of The Traveller is so well established, that Mr. Fox’s praise cannot augment it, nor censure diminish it.’ Sir Joshua. ‘But his friends may suspect they had too great a partiality for him.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, the partiality of his friends was all against him. It was with difficulty we could give him a hearing. Goldsmith had no settled notions upon any subject; so he talked always at random. It seemed to be his intention to blurt out whatever was in his mind, and see what would become of it. He was angry too, when catched in an absurdity; but it did not prevent him from falling into another the next minute. I remember Chamier, after talking with him for some time, said, “Well, I do believe he wrote this poem himself: and, let me tell you, that is believing a great deal.” Chamier once asked him, what he meant by slow, the last word in the first line of The Traveller,

  “Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow.”

  Did he mean tardiness of locomotion? Goldsmith, who would say something without consideration, answered, “Yes.” I was sitting by, and said, “No, Sir; you do not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean, that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude.” Chamier believed then that I had written the line as much as if he had seen me write it. Goldsmith, however, was a man, who, whatever he wrote, did it better than any other man could do. He deserved a place in Westminster-Abbey, and every year he lived, would have deserved it better. He had, indeed, been at no pains to fill his mind with knowledge. He transplanted it from one place to another; and it did not settle in his mind; so he could not tell what was in his own books.’

  We talked of living in the country. JOHNSON. ‘No wise man will go to live in the country, unless he has something to do which can be better done in the country. For instance: if he is to shut himself up for a year to study a science, it is better to look out to the fields, than to an opposite wall. Then, if a man walks out in the country, there is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man walks out in London, he is not sure when he shall walk in again. A great city is, to be sure, the school for studying life; and “The proper study of mankind is man,” as Pope observes.’780 Bo swell. ‘I fancy London is the best place in the world for society; though I have heard that the very first society of Paris is still beyond any thing that we have here.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, I question if in Paris such a company as is sitting round this table could be got together in less than half a year. They talk in France of the felicity of men and women living together: the truth is, that there the men are not higher than the women, they know no more than the wo
men do, and they are not held down in their conversation by the presence of women.’ RAMSAY. ‘Literature is upon the growth, it is in its spring in France. Here it is rather passee.’ JOHNSON. ‘Literature was in France long before we had it. Paris was the second city for the revival of letters: Italy had it first, to be sure. What have we done for literature, equal to what was done by the Stephani and others in France? Our literature came to us through France. Caxton printed only two books, Chaucer and Gower, that were not translations from the French; and Chaucer, we know, took much from the Italians. No, Sir, if literature be in its spring in France, it is a second spring; it is after a winter. We are now before the French in literature; but we had it long after them. In England, any man who wears a sword and a powdered wig is ashamed to be illiterate. I believe it is not so in France. Yet there is, probably, a great deal of learning in France, because they have such a number of religious establishments; so many men who have nothing else to do but to study. I do not know this; but I take it upon the common principles of chance. Where there are many shooters, some will hit.’