The Life of Samuel Johnson

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by James Boswell


  He entered upon a curious discussion of the difference between intuition and sagacity; one being immediate in its effect, the other requiring a circuitous process; one he observed was the eye of the mind, the other the nose of the mind.

  A young gentleman1206 present took up the argument against him, and maintained that no man ever thinks of the nose of the mind, not adverting that though that figurative sense seems strange to us, as very unusual, it is truly not more forced than Hamlet’s ‘In my mind’s eye, Horatio.’1207 He persisted much too long, and appeared to Johnson as putting himself forward as his antagonist with too much presumption; upon which he called to him in a loud tone, ‘What is it you are contending for, if you be contending?’ And afterwards imagining that the gentleman retorted upon him with a kind of smart drollery, he said, ‘Mr. ∗∗∗∗∗, it does not become you to talk so to me. Besides, ridicule is not your talent; you have there neither intuition nor sagacity.’ The gentleman protested that he had intended no improper freedom, but had the greatest respect for Dr. Johnson. After a short pause, during which we were somewhat uneasy, – Johnson. ‘Give me your hand, Sir. You were too tedious, and I was too short.’ Mr. ∗∗∗∗∗. ‘Sir, I am honoured by your attention in any way.’ JOHNSON. ‘Come, Sir, let’s have no more of it. We offended one another by our contention; let us not offend the company by our compliments.’

  He now said, ‘He wished much to go to Italy, and that he dreaded passing the winter in England.’ I said nothing; but enjoyed a secret satisfaction in thinking that I had taken the most effectual measures to make such a scheme practicable.

  On Monday, June 28, I had the honour to receive from the Lord Chancellor the following letter: –

  ‘TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

  ‘SIR, – I should have answered your letter immediately; if, (being much engaged when I received it) I had not put it in my pocket, and forgot to open it till this morning.

  ‘I am much obliged to you for the suggestion; and I will adopt and press it as far as I can. The best argument, I am sure, and I hope it is not likely to fail, is Dr. Johnson’s merit. But it will be necessary, if I should be so unfortunate as to miss seeing you, to converse with Sir Joshua on the sum it will be proper to ask, – in short, upon the means of setting him out. It would be a reflection on us all, if such a man should perish for want of the means to take care of his health. Yours, &c. ‘THURLOW.’

  This letter gave me a very high satisfaction; I next day went and shewed it to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was exceedingly pleased with it. He thought that I should now communicate the negociation to Dr. Johnson, who might afterwards complain if the attention with which he had been honoured, should be too long concealed from him. I intended to set out for Scotland next morning; but Sir Joshua cordially insisted that I should stay another day, that Johnson and I might dine with him, that we three might talk of his Italian Tour, and, as Sir Joshua expressed himself, ‘have it all out.’ I hastened to Johnson, and was told by him that he was rather better to-day. BOSWELL. ‘I am very anxious about you, Sir, and particularly that you should go to Italy for the winter, which I believe is your own wish.’ JOHNSON. ‘It is, Sir.’ BOSWELL. ‘You have no objection, I presume, but the money it would require.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, no, Sir.’ Upon which I gave him a particular account of what had been done, and read to him the Lord Chancellor’s letter. He listened with much attention; then warmly said, ‘This is taking prodigious pains about a man.’ ‘O! Sir, (said I, with most sincere affection,) your friends would do every thing for you.’ He paused, grew more and more agitated, till tears started into his eyes, and he exclaimed with fervent emotion, ‘GOD bless you all.’ I was so affected that I also shed tears. After a short silence, he renewed and extended his grateful benediction, ‘God bless you all, for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ We both remained for some time unable to speak. He rose suddenly and quitted the room, quite melted in tenderness. He staid but a short time, till he had recovered his firmness; soon after he returned I left him, having first engaged him to dine at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s, next day. I never was again under that roof which I had so long reverenced.

  On Wednesday, June 30, the friendly confidential dinner with Sir Joshua Reynolds took place, no other company being present. Had I known that this was the last time that I should enjoy in this world, the conversation of a friend whom I so much respected, and from whom I derived so much instruction and entertainment, I should have been deeply affected. When I now look back to it, I am vexed that a single word should have been forgotten.

  Both Sir Joshua and I were so sanguine in our expectations, that we expatiated with confidence on the liberal provision which we were sure would be made for him, conjecturing whether munificence would be displayed in one large donation, or in an ample increase of his pension. He himself catched so much of our enthusiasm, as to allow himself to suppose it not impossible that our hopes might in one way or other be realised. He said that he would rather have his pension doubled than a grant of a thousand pounds; ‘For, (said he,) though probably I may not live to receive as much as a thousand pounds, a man would have the consciousness that he should pass the remainder of his life in splendour, how long soever it might be.’ Considering what a moderate proportion an income of six hundred pounds a year bears to innumerable fortunes in this country, it is worthy of remark, that a man so truly great should think it splendour.

  As an instance of extraordinary liberality of friendship, he told us, that Dr. Brocklesby had upon this occasion offered him a hundred a year for his life. A grateful tear started into his eye, as he spoke this in a faultering tone.

  Sir Joshua and I endeavoured to flatter his imagination with agreeable prospects of happiness in Italy. ‘Nay, (said he,) I must not expect much of that; when a man goes to Italy merely to feel how he breathes the air, he can enjoy very little.’

  Our conversation turned upon living in the country, which Johnson, whose melancholy mind required the dissipation of quick successive variety, had habituated himself to consider as a kind of mental imprisonment. ‘Yet, Sir, (said I,) there are many people who are content to live in the country.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, it is in the intellectual world as in the physical world; we are told by natural philosophers that a body is at rest in the place that is fit for it; they who are content to live in the country, are fit for the country.’

  Talking of various enjoyments, I argued that a refinement of taste was a disadvantage, as they who have attained to it must be seldomer pleased than those who have no nice discrimination, and are therefore satisfied with every thing that comes in their way. JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir; that is a paltry notion. Endeavour to be as perfect as you can in every respect.’

  I accompanied him in Sir Joshua Reynolds’s coach, to the entry of Bolt-court. He asked me whether I would not go with him to his house; I declined it, from an apprehension that my spirits would sink. We bade adieu to each other affectionately in the carriage. When he had got down upon the foot-pavement, he called out, ‘Fare you well;’ and without looking back, sprung away with a kind of pathetick briskness, if I may use that expression, which seemed to indicate a struggle to conceal uneasiness, and impressed me with a foreboding of our long, long separation.

  I remained one day more in town, to have the chance of talking over my negociation with the Lord Chancellor; but the multiplicity of his Lordship’s important engagements did not allow of it; so I left the management of the business in the hands of Sir Joshua Reynolds.

  Soon after this time Dr. Johnson had the mortification of being informed by Mrs. Thrale, that, ‘what she supposed he never believed,’a was true; namely, that she was actually going to marry Signor Piozzi, an Italian musick-master. He endeavoured to prevent it; but in vain. If she would publish the whole of the correspondence that passed between Dr. Johnson and her on the subject, we should have a full view of his real sentiments. As it is, our judgement must be biassed by that characteristick specimen which Sir John Hawkins has given us: ‘Poor Thrale! I thought that either her vi
rtue or her vice would have restrained her from such a marriage. She is now become a subject for her enemies to exult over; and for her friends, if she has any left, to forget, or pity.’b

  It must be admitted that Johnson derived a considerable portion of happiness from the comforts and elegancies which he enjoyed in Mr. Thrale’s family; but Mrs. Thrale assures us he was indebted for these to her husband alone, who certainly respected him sincerely. Her words are, – ‘Veneration for his virtue, reverence for his talents, delight in his conversation, and habitual endurance of a yoke my husband first put upon me, and of which he contentedly bore his share for sixteen or seventeen years, made me go on so long with Mr. Johnson; but the perpetual confinement I will own to have been terrifying in the first years of our friendship, and irksome in the last; nor could I pretend to support it without help, when my coadjutor was no more.’a

  Alas! how different is this from the declarations which I have heard Mrs. Thrale make in his life-time, without a single murmur against any peculiarities, or against any one circumstance which attended their intimacy.

  As a sincere friend of the great man whose Life I am writing, I think it necessary to guard my readers against the mistaken notion of Dr. Johnson’s character, which this lady’s Anecdotes of him suggest; for from the very nature and form of her book, ‘it lends deception lighter wings to fly.’1208

  ‘Let it be remembered, (says an eminent critick,)a1209 that she has comprised in a small volume all that she could recollect of Dr. Johnson in twenty years, during which period, doubtless, some severe things were said by him; and they who read the book in two hours, naturally enough suppose that his whole conversation was of this complexion. But the fact is, I have been often in his company, and never once heard him say a severe thing to any one; and many others can attest the same. When he did say a severe thing, it was generally extorted by ignorance pretending to knowledge, or by extreme vanity or affectation.

  ‘Two instances of inaccuracy, (adds he,) are peculiarly worthy of notice:

  ‘It is said,c “That natural roughness of his manner so often mentioned, would, notwithstanding the regularity of his notions, burst through them all from time to time; and he once bade a very celebrated lady, who praised him with too much zeal perhaps, or perhaps too strong an emphasis, (which always offended him,) consider what her flattery was worth, before she choaked him with it.”

  ‘Now let the genuine anecdote be contrasted with this. The person thus represented as being harshly treated, though a very celebrated lady,1210 was then just come to London from an obscure situation in the country. At Sir Joshua Reynolds’s one evening, she met Dr. Johnson. She very soon began to pay her court to him in the most fulsome strain. “Spare me, I beseech you, dear Madam,” was his reply. She still laid it on. “Pray, Madam, let us have no more of this;” he rejoined. Not paying any attention to these warnings, she continued still her eulogy. At length, provoked by this indelicate and vain obtrusion of compliment, he exclaimed, “Dearest lady, consider with yourself what your flattery is worth, before you bestow it so freely.”

  ‘How different does this story appear, when accompanied with all these circumstances which really belong to it, but which Mrs. Thrale either did not know, or has suppressed.

  She says, in another place,d One gentleman, however, who dined at a nobleman’s house in his company, and that of Mr. Thrale, to whom I was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to enter the lists in defence of King William’s character; and having opposed and contradicted Johnson two or three times, petulantly enough, the master of the house began to feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences; to avoid which, he said, loud enough for the Doctor to hear, – ‘Our friend here has no meaning now in all this, except just to relate at club to-morrow how he teized Johnson at dinner to-day; this is all to do himselfhonour.’ No, upon my word, (replied the other,) I see no honour in it, whatever you may do. Well, Sir, (returned Mr. Johnson, sternly,) if you do not see the honour, I am sure I feel the disgrace.”

  ‘This is all sophisticated. Mr. Thrale was not in the company, though he might have related the story to Mrs. Thrale. A friend, from whom I had the story, was present; and it was not at the house of a nobleman. On the observation being made by the master of the house1211 on a gentleman’s1212 contradicting Johnson, that he had talked for the honour, &c., the gentleman muttered, in a low voice, “I see no honour in it;” and Dr. Johnson said nothing: so all the rest, (though bien trouvee)1213 is mere garnish.’

  I have had occasion several times, in the course of this work, to point out the incorrectness of Mrs. Thrale, as to particulars which consisted with my own knowledge. But indeed she has, in flippant terms enough, expressed her disapprobation of that anxious desire of authenticity which prompts a person who is to record conversations, to write them down at the moment.a Unquestionably, if they are to be recorded at all, the sooner it is done the better. This lady herself says,b – To recollect, however, and to repeat the sayings of Dr. Johnson, is almost all that can be done by the writers of his Life; as his life, at least since my acquaintance with him, consisted in little else than talking, when he was not employed in some serious piece of work.’

  She boasts of her having kept a common-place book; and we find she noted, at one time or other, in a very lively manner, specimens of the conversation of Dr. Johnson, and of those who talked with him; but had she done it recently, they probably would have been less erroneous; and we should have been relieved from those disagreeable doubts of their authenticity, with which we must now peruse them.

  She says of him,c –‘He was the most charitable of mortals, without being what we call an active friend. Admirable at giving counsel; no man saw his way so clearly; but he would not stir a finger for the assistance of those to whom he was willing enough to give advice.’ And again on the same page, ‘If you wanted a slight favour, you must apply to people of other dispositions; for not a step would Johnson move to obtain a man a vote in a society, to repay a compliment which might be useful or pleasing, to write a letter of request, &c., or to obtain a hundred pounds a year more for a friend who, perhaps, had already two or three. No force could urge him to diligence, no importunity could conquer his resolution to stand still.

  It is amazing that one who had such opportunities of knowing Dr. Johnson, should appear so little acquainted with his real character. I am sorry this lady does not advert, that she herself contradicts the assertion of his being obstinately defective in the petites morales, in the little endearing charities of social life, in conferring smaller favours; for she says,a – ‘Dr. Johnson was liberal enough in granting literary assistance to others, I think; and innumerable are the Prefaces, Sermons, Lectures, and Dedications which he used to make for people who begged of him?

  I am certain that a more active friend has rarely been found in any age. This work, which I fondly hope will rescue his memory from obloquy, contains a thousand instances of his benevolent exertions in almost every way that can be conceived; and particularly in employing his pen with a generous readiness for those to whom its aid could be useful. Indeed his obliging activity in doing little offices of kindness, both by letters and personal application, was one of the most remarkable features in his character; and for the truth of this I can appeal to a number of his respectable friends: Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Burke, Mr. Windham, Mr. Malone, the Bishop of Dromore, Sir William Scott, Sir Robert Chambers. And can Mrs. Thrale forget the advertisements which he wrote for her husband at the time of his election contest; the epitaphs on him and her mother; the playful and even trifling verses, for the amusement of her and her daughters; his corresponding with her children, and entering into their minute concerns, which shews him in the most amiable light?

  She relates,b – That Mr. Ch-lm-ley unexpectedly rode up to Mr. Thrale’s carriage, in which Mr. Thrale and she, and Dr. Johnson were travelling; that he paid them all his proper compliments, but observing that Dr. Johnson, who was reading, did not see him, tapt
him gently on the shoulder. “’Tis Mr. Ch-lm-ley;” says my husband, “Well, Sir – and what if it is Mr. Ch-lm-ley;” says the other, sternly, just lifting his eyes a moment from his book, and returning to it again, with renewed avidity?

  This surely conveys a notion of Johnson, as if he had been grossly rude to Mr. Cholmondeley,c a gentleman whom he always loved and esteemed. If, therefore, there was an absolute necessity for mentioning the story at all, it might have been thought that her tenderness for Dr. Johnson’s character would have disposed her to state any thing that could soften it. Why then is there a total silence as to what Mr. Cholmondeley told her? – that Johnson, who had known him from his earliest years, having been made sensible of what had doubtless a strange appearance, took occasion, when he afterwards met him, to make a very courteous and kind apology. There is another little circumstance which I cannot but remark. Her book was published in 1785, she had then in her possession a letter from Dr. Johnson, dated in i777,a which begins thus: – ‘Cholmondeley’s story shocks me, if it be true, which I can hardly think, for I am utterly unconscious of it: I am very sorry, and very much ashamed.’ Why then publish the anecdote? Or if she did, why not add the circumstances, with which she was well acquainted?

  In his social intercourse she thus describes him;b –‘Ever musing till he was called out to converse, and conversing till the fatigue of his friends, or the promptitude of his own temper to take offence, consigned him back again to silent meditation.

  Yet, in the same book,c she tells us, – ‘He was, however, seldom inclined to be silent, when any moral or literary question was started; and it was on such occasions that, like the Sage in “Rasselas,” he spoke, and attention watched his lips; he reasoned, and conviction closed his period.’

 

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