Life of Samuel Johnson, Vol. I — Part 30

[Page 452: The Tale Of A Tub.

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1763. ] On Tuesday, July 26, I found Mr. Johnson alone.

It was a very wet day, and I again complained of the disagreeable effects of such weather.

JOHNSON.

'Sir, this is all imagination, which physicians encourage; for man lives in air, as a fish lives in water; so that if the atmosphere press heavy from above, there is an equal resistance from below.

To be sure, bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be abroad; and men cannot labour so well in the open air in bad weather, as in good: but, Sir, a smith or a taylor, whose work is within doors, will surely do as much in rainy weather, as in fair.

Some very delicate frames, indeed, may be affected by wet weather; but not common constitutions.'

[1330] We talked of the education of children; and I asked him what he thought was best to teach them first.

JOHNSON.

'Sir, it is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first.

Sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in the mean time your breech is bare.

Sir, while you are considering which of two things you should teach your child first, another boy has learnt them both.'

On Thursday, July 28, we again supped in private at the Turk's Head coffee-house.

JOHNSON.

'Swift has a higher reputation than he deserves.

His excellence is strong sense; for his humour, though very well, is not remarkably good.

I doubt whether _The Tale of a Tub_ be his; for he never owned it, and it is much above his usual manner[1331].'

[Page 453: Mr. Thomas Sheridan's dulness.

Ætat 54. ] 'Thompson, I think, had as much of the poet about him as most writers.

Every thing appeared to him through the medium of his favourite pursuit.

He could not have viewed those two candles burning but with a poetical eye[1332].'

'Has not ----[1333] a great deal of wit, Sir?'

JOHNSON.

'I do not think so, Sir.

He is, indeed, continually attempting wit, but he fails.

And I have no more pleasure in hearing a man attempting wit and failing, than in seeing a man trying to leap over a ditch and tumbling into it.'

He laughed heartily, when I mentioned to him a saying of his concerning Mr. Thomas Sheridan, which Foote took a wicked pleasure to circulate.

'Why, Sir, Sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him.

Such an excess of stupidity, Sir, is not in Nature.'

'So (said he,) I allowed him all his own merit.'

[Page 454: Experience the test of truth.

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1763. ] He now added, 'Sheridan cannot bear me.

I bring his declamation to a point.

I ask him a plain question, 'What do you mean to teach?'

Besides, Sir, what influence can Mr. Sheridan have upon the language of this great country, by his narrow exertions?

Sir, it is burning a farthing candle at Dover, to shew light at Calais[1334].'

Talking of a young man[1335] who was uneasy from thinking that he was very deficient in learning and knowledge, he said, 'A man has no reason to complain who holds a middle place, and has many below him; and perhaps he has not six of his years above him;--perhaps not one.

Though he may not know any thing perfectly, the general mass of knowledge that he has acquired is considerable.

Time will do for him all that is wanting.'

The conversation then took a philosophical turn.

JOHNSON.

'Human experience, which is constantly contradicting theory, is the great test of truth.

A system, built upon the discoveries of a great many minds, is always of more strength, than what is produced by the mere workings of any one mind, which, of itself, can do little.

There is not so poor a book in the world that would not be a prodigious effort were it wrought out entirely by a single mind, without the aid of prior investigators.

The French writers are superficial[1336]; because they are not scholars, and so proceed upon the mere power of their own minds; and we see how very little power they have.'

[Page 455: The University of Salamancha.

Ætat 54. ] 'As to the Christian religion, Sir, besides the strong evidence which we have for it, there is a balance in its favour from the number of great men who have been convinced of its truth, after a serious consideration of the question.

Grotius was an acute man, a lawyer, a man accustomed to examine evidence, and he was convinced.

Grotius was not a recluse, but a man of the world, who certainly had no bias to the side of religion.

Sir Isaac Newton set out an infidel[1337], and came to be a very firm believer.'

He this evening again recommended to me to perambulate Spain[1338].

I said it would amuse him to get a letter from me dated at Salamancha.

JOHNSON.

'I love the University of Salamancha; for when the Spaniards were in doubt as to the lawfulness of their conquering America, the University of Salamancha gave it as their opinion that it was not lawful.'

He spoke this with great emotion, and with that generous warmth which dictated the lines in his _London_, against Spanish encroachment[1339].

I expressed my opinion of my friend Derrick as but a poor writer.

JOHNSON.

'To be sure, Sir, he is; but you are to consider that his being a literary man has got for him all that he has.

It has made him King of Bath[1340].

Sir, he has nothing to say for himself but that he is a writer.

Had he not been a writer, he must have been sweeping the crossings in the streets, and asking halfpence from every body that past.'

[Page 456: Mr. Derrick.

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1763. ] In justice, however, to the memory of Mr. Derrick, who was my first tutor in the ways of London, and shewed me the town in all its variety of departments, both literary and sportive, the particulars of which Dr. Johnson advised me to put in writing, it is proper to mention what Johnson, at a subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an editor: 'Sir, I have often said, that if Derrick's letters[1341] had been written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought very pretty letters[1342].'

And, 'I sent Derrick to Dryden's relations to gather materials for his life; and I believe he got all that I myself should have got[1343].'

Poor Derrick!

I remember him with kindness.

Yet I cannot withhold from my readers a pleasant humourous sally which could not have hurt him had he been alive, and now is perfectly harmless.

In his collection of poems, there is one upon entering the harbour of Dublin, his native city, after a long absence.

It begins thus: 'Eblana!

much lov'd city, hail!

Where first I saw the light of day.'

And after a solemn reflection on his being 'numbered with forgotten dead,' there is the following stanza: 'Unless my lines protract my fame, And those, who chance to read them, cry, I knew him!

Derrick was his name, In yonder tomb his ashes lie.'

Which was thus happily parodied by Mr. John Home, to whom we owe the beautiful and pathetick tragedy of _Douglas_: 'Unless my _deeds_ protract my fame, _And he who passes sadly sings_, I knew him!

Derrick was his name, _On yonder tree his carcase swings_!'

[Page 457: A day at Greenwich.

Ætat 54. ] I doubt much whether the amiable and ingenious author of these burlesque lines will recollect them, for they were produced extempore one evening while he and I were walking together in the dining-room at Eglintoune Castle, in 1760, and I have never mentioned them to him since.

Johnson said once to me, 'Sir, I honour Derrick for his presence of mind.

One night, when Floyd[1344], another poor authour, was wandering about the streets in the night, he found Derrick fast asleep upon a bulk[1345]; upon being suddenly waked, Derrick started up, "My dear Floyd, I am sorry to see you in this destitute state; will you go home with me to _my lodgings_?"

' I again begged his advice as to my method of study at Utrecht.

'Come, (said he) let us make a day of it.

Let us go down to Greenwich and dine, and talk of it there.'

The following Saturday was fixed for this excursion.

As we walked along the Strand to-night, arm in arm, a woman of the town accosted us, in the usual enticing manner.

'No, no, my girl, (said Johnson) it won't do.'

He, however, did not treat her with harshness, and we talked of the wretched life of such women; and agreed, that much more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced by illicit commerce between the sexes.

[Page 458: The Desire of Knowledge.

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1703. ] On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler at the Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich.

I asked him if he really thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential requisite to a good education.

JOHNSON.

'Most certainly, Sir; for those who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not.

Nay, Sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much connected with it.'

'And yet, (said I) people go through the world very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without learning.'

JOHNSON.

'Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning, as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the Argonauts, who were the first sailors.'

He then called to the boy, 'What would you give, my lad, to know about the Argonauts?'

'Sir (said the boy,) I would give what I have.'

Johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we gave him a double fare.

Dr. Johnson then turning to me, 'Sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind;

and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge[1346].'

We landed at the Old Swan[1347], and walked to Billingsgate, where we took oars, and moved smoothly along the silver Thames.

It was a very fine day.

We were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side of the river.

[Page 459: The Methodists.

Ætat 54. ] [Page 460: A course of study.

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1763. ] I talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called Methodists[1348] have.

JOHNSON.

'Sir, it is owing to their expressing themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their congregations; a practice, for which they will be praised by men of sense[1349].

To insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common people: but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness, and shew them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep impression.

Sir, when your Scotch clergy give up their homely manner, religion will soon decay in that country.'

Let this observation, as Johnson meant it, be ever remembered.

I was much pleased to find myself with Johnson at Greenwich, which he celebrates in his _London_ as a favourite scene.

I had the poem in my pocket, and read the lines aloud with enthusiasm: 'On Thames's banks in silent thought we stood: Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood: Pleas'd[1350] with the seat which gave ELIZA birth, We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.'

He remarked that the structure of Greenwich hospital was too magnificent for a place of charity, and that its parts were too much detached to make one great whole.

Buchanan, he said, was a very fine poet; and observed, that he was the first who complimented a lady, by ascribing to her the different perfections of the heathen goddesses[1351]; but that Johnston[1352] improved upon this, by making his lady, at the same time, free from their defects.

He dwelt upon Buchanan's elegant verses to Mary Queen of Scots, _Nympha Caledoniae_, &c. , and spoke with enthusiasm of the beauty of Latin verse.

'All the modern languages (said he) cannot furnish so melodious a line as 'Formosam resonare doces Amarillida silvas[1353].'

[Page 461: Nature and Fleet-street.

Ætat 54. ] Afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me his advice as to a course of study.

And here I am to mention with much regret, that my record of what he said is miserably scanty.

I recollect with admiration an animating blaze of eloquence, which rouzed every intellectual power in me to the highest pitch, but must have dazzled me so much, that my memory could not preserve the substance of his discourse[1354]; for the note which I find of it is no more than this:--'He ran over the grand scale of human knowledge; advised me to select some particular branch to excel in, but to acquire a little of every kind.'

The defect of my minutes will be fully supplied by a long letter upon the subject which he favoured me with, after I had been some time at Utrecht, and which my readers will have the pleasure to peruse in its proper place.

We walked in the evening in Greenwich Park.

He asked me, I suppose, by way of trying my disposition, 'Is not this very fine?'

Having no exquisite relish of the beauties of Nature[1355], and being more delighted with 'the busy hum of men[1356],' I answered, 'Yes, Sir; but not equal to Fleet-street[1357].'

JOHNSON.

'You are right, Sir.'

I am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste.

Let me, however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fashionable Baronet[1358] in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called to the fragrance of a May evening in the country, observed, 'This may be very well; but, for my part, I prefer the smell of a flambeau at the play-house[1359].'

[Page 462: Auchinleck.

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1763. ] We staid so long at Greenwich, that our sail up the river, in our return to London, was by no means so pleasant as in the morning; for the night air was so cold that it made me shiver.

I was the more sensible of it from having sat up all the night before, recollecting and writing in my journal what I thought worthy of preservation; an exertion, which, during the first part of my acquaintance with Johnson, I frequently made.

I remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being much incommoded in the day time.

Johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected by the cold, scolded me, as if my shivering had been a paltry effeminacy, saying, 'Why do you shiver?'

Sir William Scott,[1360] of the Commons, told me, that when he complained of a headach in the post-chaise, as they were travelling together to Scotland, Johnson treated him in the same manner: 'At your age, Sir, I had no head-ach.'

It is not easy to make allowance for sensations in others, which we ourselves have not at the time.

We must all have experienced how very differently we are affected by the complaints of our neighbours, when we are well and when we are ill.

In full health, we can scarcely believe that they suffer much; so faint is the image of pain upon our imagination: when softened by sickness, we readily sympathize with the sufferings of others.

We concluded the day at the Turk's Head coffee-house very socially.

He was pleased to listen to a particular account which I gave him of my family, and of its hereditary estate, as to the extent and population of which he asked questions, and made calculations; recommending, at the same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over whom the proprietor was placed by Providence[1361].

He took delight in hearing my description of the romantick seat of my ancestors.

'I must be there, Sir, (said he) and we will live in the old castle; and if there is not a room in it remaining, we will build one.'

I was highly flattered, but could scarcely indulge a hope that Auchinleck would indeed be honoured by his presence, and celebrated by a description, as it afterwards was, in his _Journey to the Western Islands_[1362].

[Page 463: Tea with Miss Williams.

Ætat 54. ] After we had again talked of my setting out for Holland, he said, 'I must see thee out of England; I will accompany you to Harwich.'

I could not find words to express what I felt upon this unexpected and very great mark of his affectionate regard.

Next day, Sunday, July 31, I told him I had been that morning at a meeting of the people called Quakers, where I had heard a woman preach.

JOHNSON.

'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs.

It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.'

On Tuesday, August 2 (the day of my departure from London having been fixed for the 5th,) Dr. Johnson did me the honour to pass a part of the morning with me at my Chambers.

He said, that 'he always felt an inclination to do nothing.'

I observed, that it was strange to think that the most indolent man in Britain had written the most laborious work, _The English Dictionary_.

I mentioned an imprudent publication[1363], by a certain friend of his, at an early period of life, and asked him if he thought it would hurt him.

JOHNSON.

'No, Sir; not much.

It may, perhaps, be mentioned at an election.'

I had now made good my title to be a privileged man[1364], and was carried by him in the evening to drink tea with Miss Williams, whom, though under the misfortune of having lost her sight, I found to be agreeable in conversation; for she had a variety of literature, and expressed herself well; but her peculiar value was the intimacy in which she had long lived with Johnson, by which she was well acquainted with his habits, and knew how to lead him on to talk.

[Page 464: Convocation.

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1763. ] After tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed by some trees.

There we sauntered a considerable time; and I complained to him that my love of London and of his company was such, that I shrunk almost from the thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally so much desired by young men[1365].

He roused me by manly and spirited conversation.

He advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study with an eagerness after knowledge, and to apply to Greek an hour every day; and when I was moving about, to read diligently the great book of mankind.

On Wednesday, August 3, we had our last social evening at the Turk's Head coffee-house, before my setting out for foreign parts.

I had the misfortune, before we parted, to irritate him unintentionally.

I

mentioned to him how common it was in the world to tell absurd stories of him, and to ascribe to him very strange sayings.

JOHNSON.

'What do they make me say, Sir?'

BOSWELL.

'Why, Sir, as an instance very strange indeed, (laughing heartily as I spoke,) David Hume told me, you said that you would stand before a battery of cannon, to restore the Convocation to its full powers.'

Little did I apprehend that he had actually said this: but I was soon convinced of my errour; for, with a determined look, he thundered out 'And would I not, Sir?

Shall the Presbyterian _Kirk_ of Scotland have its General Assembly, and the Church of England be denied its Convocation?'

He was walking up and down the room while I told him the anecdote; but when he uttered this explosion of high-church zeal, he had come close to my chair, and his eyes flashed with indignation.

[1366] I bowed to the storm, and diverted the force of it, by leading him to expatiate on the influence which religion derived from maintaining the church with great external respectability.

I must not omit to mention that he this year wrote _The Life of Ascham_[dagger], and the Dedication to the Earl of Shaftesbury[dagger], prefixed to the edition of that writer's English works, published by Mr. Bennet[1367].

[Page 465: In the Harwich stage coach.

Ætat 54. ] [Page 466: Blacklock's poetry.

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1763. ] On Friday, August 5, we set out early in the morning in the Harwich stage coach.

A fat elderly gentlewoman, and a young Dutchman, seemed the most inclined among us to conversation.

At the inn where we dined, the gentlewoman said that she had done her best to educate her children; and particularly, that she had never suffered them to be a moment idle.

JOHNSON.

'I wish, madam, you would educate me too; for I have been an idle fellow all my life.'

'I am sure, Sir, (said she) you have not been idle.'

JOHNSON.

'Nay, Madam, it is very true; and that gentleman there (pointing to me,) has been idle.

He was idle at Edinburgh.

His father sent him to Glasgow, where he continued to be idle.

He then came to London, where he has been very idle; and now he is going to Utrecht, where he will be as idle as ever.'

I asked him privately how he could expose me so.

JOHNSON.

'Poh, poh!

(said he) they knew nothing about you, and will think of it no more.'

In the afternoon the gentlewoman talked violently against the Roman Catholicks, and of the horrours of the Inquisition.

To the utter astonishment of all the passengers but myself, who knew that he could talk upon any side of a question, he defended the Inquisition, and maintained, that 'false doctrine should be checked on its first appearance; that the civil power should unite with the church in punishing those who dared to attack the established religion, and that such only were punished by the Inquisition[1368].'

He had in his pocket '_Pomponius Mela de situ Orbis_,' in which he read occasionally, and seemed very intent upon ancient geography.

Though by no means niggardly, his attention to what was generally right was so minute, that having observed at one of the stages that I ostentatiously gave a shilling to the coachman, when the custom was for each passenger to give only six-pence, he took me aside and scolded me, saying that what I had done would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of the passengers, who gave him no more than his due.

This was a just reprimand; for in whatever way a man may indulge his generosity or his vanity in spending his money, for the sake of others he ought not to raise the price of any article for which there is a constant demand.

He talked of Mr. Blacklock's poetry, so far as it was descriptive of visible objects; and observed, that 'as its authour had the misfortune to be blind, we may be absolutely sure that such passages are combinations of what he has remembered of the works of other writers who could see.

That foolish fellow, Spence, has laboured to explain philosophically how Blacklock may have done, by means of his own faculties, what it is impossible he should do[1369].

The solution, as I have given it, is plain.

Suppose, I know a man to be so lame that he is absolutely incapable to move himself, and I find him in a different room from that in which I left him; shall I puzzle myself with idle conjectures, that, perhaps, his nerves have by some unknown change all at once become effective?

No, Sir; it it clear how he got into a different room: he was _carried_.'

[Page 467: Torture in Holland.

Ætat 54. ] Having stopped a night at Colchester[1370], Johnson talked of that town with veneration, for having stood a siege for Charles the First.

The Dutchman alone now remained with us.

He spoke English tolerably well;

and thinking to recommend himself to us by expatiating on the superiority of the criminal jurisprudence of this country over that of Holland, he inveighed against the barbarity of putting an accused person to the torture, in order to force a confession[1371].

But Johnson was as ready for this, as for the Inquisition.

'Why, Sir, you do not, I find, understand the law of your own country.

The torture in Holland is considered as a favour to an accused person; for no man is put to the torture there, unless there is as much evidence against him as would amount to conviction in England.

An accused person among you, therefore, has one chance more to escape punishment, than those who are tried among us.'

[Page 468: Johnson's relish for good eating.

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1763. ] [Page 469: A critick of cookery.

Ætat 54. ] [Page 470: Studied behaviour.

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1763. ] At supper this night he talked of good eating with uncommon satisfaction.

'Some people (said he,) have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat.

For my part, I mind my belly very studiously, and very carefully; for I look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else[1372].'

He now appeared to me _Jean Bull philosophe_, and he was, for the moment, not only serious but vehement.

Yet I have heard him, upon other occasions, talk with great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their palates; and the 206th number of his _Rambler_ is a masterly essay against gulosity[1373].

His practice, indeed, I must acknowledge, may be considered as casting the balance of his different opinions upon this subject; for I never knew any man who relished good eating more than he did.

When at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks seemed rivetted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite[1374], which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible[1375].

To those whose sensations were delicate, this could not but be disgusting; and it was doubtless not very suitable to the character of a philosopher, who should be distinguished by self-command.

But it must be owned, that Johnson, though he could be rigidly _abstemious_, was not a _temperate_ man either in eating or drinking.

He could refrain, but he could not use moderately[1376].

He told me, that he had fasted two days without inconvenience, and that he had never been hungry but once[1377].

They who beheld with wonder how much he eat upon all occasions when his dinner was to his taste, could not easily conceive what he must have meant by hunger; and not only was he remarkable for the extraordinary quantity which he eat, but he was, or affected to be, a man of very nice discernment in the science of cookery.

He used to descant critically on the dishes which had been at table where he had dined or supped, and to recollect very minutely what he had liked[1378].

I remember, when he was in Scotland, his praising '_Gordon's palates_', (a dish of palates at the Honourable Alexander Gordon's) with a warmth of expression which might have done honour to more important subjects.

'As for Maclaurin's imitation of a _made dish_, it was a wretched attempt[1379].'

He about the same time was so much displeased with the performances of a nobleman's French cook, that he exclaimed with vehemence, 'I'd throw such a rascal into the river;' and he then proceeded to alarm a lady at whose house he was to sup[1380], by the following manifesto of his skill: 'I, Madam, who live at a variety of good tables, am a much better judge of cookery, than any person who has a very tolerable cook, but lives much at home; for his palate is gradually adapted to the taste of his cook; whereas, Madam, in trying by a wider range, I can more exquisitely judge[1381].'

When invited to dine, even with an intimate friend, he was not pleased if something better than a plain dinner was not prepared for him.

I have heard him say on such an occasion, 'This was a good dinner enough, to be sure; but it was not a dinner to _ask_ a man to.'

On the other hand, he was wont to express, with great glee, his satisfaction when he had been entertained quite to his mind.

One day when we had dined with his neighbour and landlord in Bolt-court, Mr. Allen, the printer, whose old housekeeper had studied his taste in every thing, he pronounced this eulogy: 'Sir, we could not have had a better dinner had there been a _Synod of Cooks_[1382].'

While we were left by ourselves, after the Dutchman had gone to bed, Dr. Johnson talked of that studied behaviour which many have recommended and practised.

He disapproved of it; and said, 'I never considered whether I should be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination, for the time, have its course[1383].'

He flattered me with some hopes that he would, in the course of the following summer, come over to Holland, and accompany me in a tour through the Netherlands.

I teized him with fanciful apprehensions of unhappiness.

A moth having fluttered round the candle, and burnt itself, he laid hold of this little incident to admonish me; saying, with a sly look, and in a solemn but quiet tone, 'That creature was its own tormentor, and I believe its name was BOSWELL.'