Life of Samuel Johnson, Vol. II — 1775 part 4

'April 17, 1775.' On Tuesday, April 18, he and I were engaged to go with Sir Joshua Reynolds to dine with Mr. Cambridge[1081], at his beautiful villa on the banks of the Thames, near Twickenham.

Dr. Johnson's tardiness was such, that Sir Joshua, who had an appointment at Richmond, early in the day, was obliged to go by himself on horseback, leaving his coach to Johnson and me.

Johnson was in such good spirits, that every thing seemed to please him as we drove along.

Our conversation turned on a variety of subjects.

He thought portrait-painting an improper employment for a woman[1082].

'Publick practice of any art, (he observed,) and staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a female.'

I happened to start a question, whether, when a man knows that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house of another friend, with whom they are all equally intimate, he may join them without an invitation.

JOHNSON.

'No, Sir; he is not to go when he is not invited.

They may be invited on purpose to abuse him' (smiling).

As a curious instance how little a man knows, or wishes to know, his own character in the world, or, rather, as a convincing proof that Johnson's roughness was only external, and did not proceed from his heart, I insert the following dialogue.

JOHNSON.

'It is wonderful, Sir, how rare a quality good humour is in life.

We meet with very few good humoured men.'

I mentioned four of our friends[1083], none of whom he would allow to be good humoured.

One was _acid_, another was _muddy_[1084], and to the others he had objections which have escaped me.

Then, shaking his head and stretching himself at ease in the coach, and smiling with much complacency, he turned to me and said, 'I look upon _myself_ as a good humoured fellow.'

The epithet _fellow_, applied to the great Lexicographer, the stately Moralist, the masterly Critick, as if he had been Sam Johnson, a mere pleasant companion, was highly diverting; and this light notion of himself struck me with wonder.

I answered, also smiling, 'No, no, Sir; that will _not_ do.

You are good natured, but not good humoured[1085]: you are irascible.

You have not patience with folly and absurdity.

I believe you would pardon them, if there were time to deprecate your vengeance; but punishment follows so quick after sentence, that they cannot escape.'

I had brought with me a great bundle of Scotch magazines and news-papers, in which his _Journey to the Western Islands_ was attacked in every mode; and I read a great part of them to him, knowing they would afford him entertainment.

I wish the writers of them had been present: they would have been sufficiently vexed.

One ludicrous imitation of his style, by Mr. Maclaurin[1086], now one of the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dreghorn, was distinguished by him from the rude mass.

'This (said he,) is the best.

But I could caricature my own style much better myself.'

He defended his remark upon the general insufficiency of education in Scotland; and confirmed to me the authenticity of his witty saying on the learning of the Scotch;--'Their learning is like bread in a besieged town: every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal[1087].'

'There is (said he,) in Scotland, a diffusion of learning, a certain portion of it widely and thinly spread.

A merchant there has as much learning as one of their clergy[1088].'

He talked of Isaac Walton's _Lives_, which was one of his most favourite books.

Dr. Donne's _Life_, he said, was the most perfect of them.

He observed, that 'it was wonderful that Walton, who was in a very low situation in life, should have been familiarly received by so many great men, and that at a time when the ranks of society were kept more separate than they are now.'

He supposed that Walton had then given up his business as a linen draper and sempster, and was only an authour[1089];

and added, 'that he was a great panegyrist.'

BOSWELL.

'No quality will get a man more friends than a disposition to admire the qualities of others.

I do not mean flattery, but a sincere admiration.'

JOHNSON.

'Nay, Sir, flattery pleases very generally[1090].

In the first place, the flatterer may think what he says to be true: but, in the second place, whether he thinks so or not, he certainly thinks those whom he flatters of consequence enough to be flattered.'

No sooner had we made our bow to Mr. Cambridge, in his library, than Johnson ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on poring over the backs of the books[1091].

Sir Joshua observed, (aside,) 'He runs to the books, as I do to the pictures: but I have the advantage.

I can see much more of the pictures than he can of the books.'

Mr. Cambridge, upon this, politely said, 'Dr. Johnson, I am going, with your pardon, to accuse myself, for I have the same custom which I perceive you have.

But it seems odd that one should have such a desire to look at the backs of books.'

Johnson, ever ready for contest, instantly started from his reverie, wheeled about, and answered, 'Sir, the reason is very plain.

Knowledge is of two kinds.

We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it.

When we enquire into any subject, the first thing we have to do is to know what books have treated of it.

This leads us to look at catalogues, and the backs of books in libraries.'

Sir Joshua observed to me the extraordinary promptitude with which Johnson flew upon an argument.

'Yes, (said I,) he has no formal preparation, no flourishing with his sword; he is through your body in an instant[1092].'

Johnson was here solaced with an elegant entertainment, a very accomplished family, and much good company; among whom was Mr. Harris[1093] of Salisbury, who paid him many compliments on his _Journey to the Western Islands_.

The common remark as to the utility of reading history being made;-- JOHNSON.

'We must consider how very little history there is; I mean real authentick history.

That certain Kings reigned, and certain battles were fought, we can depend upon as true; but all the colouring, all the philosophy of history is conjecture[1094].'

BOSWELL.

'Then, Sir, you would reduce all history to no better than an almanack[1095], a mere chronological series of remarkable events.'

Mr. Gibbon, who must at that time have been employed upon his _History_[1096], of which he published the first volume in the following year, was present; but did not step forth in defence of that species of writing.

He probably did not like to trust himself with JOHNSON[1097]!

Johnson observed, that the force of our early habits was so great, that though reason approved, nay, though our senses relished a different course, almost every man returned to them.

I do not believe there is any observation upon human nature better founded than this; and, in many cases, it is a very painful truth; for where early habits have been mean and wretched, the joy and elevation resulting from better modes of life must be damped by the gloomy consciousness of being under an almost inevitable doom to sink back into a situation which we recollect with disgust.

It surely may be prevented, by constant attention and unremitting exertion to establish contrary habits of superiour efficacy.

_The Beggar's Opera_, and the common question, whether it was pernicious in its effects, having been introduced;--JOHNSON.

'As to this matter, which has been very much contested, I myself am of opinion, that more influence has been ascribed to _The Beggar's Opera_, than it in reality ever had; for I do not believe that any man was ever made a rogue by being present at its representation.

At the same time I do not deny that it may have some influence, by making the character of a rogue familiar, and in some degree pleasing[1098].'

Then collecting himself as it were, to give a heavy stroke: 'There is in it such a _labefactation_ of all principles, as may be injurious to morality.'

While he pronounced this response, we sat in a comical sort of restraint, smothering a laugh, which we were afraid might burst out.

In his _Life of Gay_, he has been still more decisive as to the inefficiency of _The Beggar's Opera_ in corrupting society[1099].

But I have ever thought somewhat differently; for, indeed, not only are the gaiety and heroism of a highwayman very captivating to a youthful imagination, but the arguments for adventurous depredation are so plausible, the allusions so lively, and the contrasts with the ordinary and more painful modes of acquiring property are so artfully displayed, that it requires a cool and strong judgement to resist so imposing an aggregate: yet, I own, I should be very sorry to have _The Beggar's Opera_ suppressed; for there is in it so much of real London life, so much brilliant wit, and such a variety of airs, which, from early association of ideas, engage, soothe, and enliven the mind, that no performance which the theatre exhibits, delights me more.

The late '_worthy_' Duke of Queensberry[1100], as Thomson, in his _Seasons_, justly characterises him, told me, that when Gay first shewed him _The Beggar's Opera_, his Grace's observation was, 'This is a very odd thing, Gay; I am satisfied that it is either a very good thing, or a very bad thing.'

It proved the former, beyond the warmest expectations of the authour or his friends, Mr. Cambridge, however, shewed us to-day, that there was good reason enough to doubt concerning its success.

He was told by Quin, that during the first night of its appearance it was long in a very dubious state; that there was a disposition to damn it, and that it was saved by the song[1101], 'Oh ponder well!

be not severe!'

the audience being much affected by the innocent looks of Polly, when she came to those two lines, which exhibit at once a painful and ridiculous image, 'For on the rope that hangs my Dear, Depends poor Polly's life.'

Quin himself had so bad an opinion of it, that he refused the part of Captain Macheath, and gave it to Walker[1102], who acquired great celebrity by his grave yet animated performance of it[1103].

We talked of a young gentleman's marriage with an eminent singer[1104], and his determination that she should no longer sing in publick, though his father was very earnest she should, because her talents would be liberally rewarded, so as to make her a good fortune.

It was questioned whether the young gentleman, who had not a shilling in the world[1105], but was blest with very uncommon talents, was not foolishly delicate, or foolishly proud, and his father truely rational without being mean.

Johnson, with all the high spirit of a Roman senator, exclaimed, 'He resolved wisely and nobly to be sure.

He is a brave man.

Would not a gentleman be disgraced by having his wife singing publickly for hire?

No, Sir, there can be no doubt here.

I know not if I should not _prepare_ myself for a publick singer, as readily as let my wife be one.'

Johnson arraigned the modern politicks of this country, as entirely devoid of all principle of whatever kind.

'Politicks (said he) are now nothing more than means of rising in the world.

With this sole view do men engage in politicks, and their whole conduct proceeds upon it.

How different in that respect is the state of the nation now from what it was in the time of Charles the First, during the Usurpation, and after the Restoration, in the time of Charles the Second.

_Hudibras_ affords a strong proof how much hold political principles had then upon the minds of men.

There is in _Hudibras_ a great deal of bullion which will always last.

But to be sure the brightest strokes of his wit owed their force to the impression of the characters, which was upon men's minds at the time; to their knowing them, at table and in the street; in short, being familiar with them; and above all, to his satire being directed against those whom a little while before they had hated and feared[1106].

The nation in general has ever been loyal, has been at all times attached to the monarch, though a few daring rebels have been wonderfully powerful for a time.

The murder of Charles the First was undoubtedly not committed with the approbation or consent of the people.

Had that been the case, Parliament would not have ventured to consign the regicides to their deserved punishment.

And we know what exuberance of joy there was when Charles the Second was restored.

If Charles the Second had bent all his mind to it, had made it his sole object, he might have been as absolute as Louis the Fourteenth.'

A gentleman observed he would have done no harm if he had.

JOHNSON.

'Why, Sir, absolute princes seldom do any harm.

But they who are governed by them are governed by chance.

There is no security for good government.'

CAMBRIDGE.

'There have been many sad victims to absolute government.'

JOHNSON.

'So, Sir, have there been to popular factions.'

BOSWELL.

'The question is, which is worst, one wild beast or many?'

Johnson praised _The Spectator_, particularly the character of Sir Roger de Coverley.

He said, 'Sir Roger did not die a violent death, as has been generally fancied.

He was not killed; he died only because others were to die, and because his death afforded an opportunity to Addison for some very fine writing.

We have the example of Cervantes making Don Quixote die[1107].

--I never could see why Sir Roger is represented as a little cracked.

It appears to me that the story of the widow was intended to have something superinduced upon it: but the superstructure did not come[1108].'

Somebody found fault with writing verses in a dead language, maintaining that they were merely arrangements of so many words, and laughed at the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, for sending forth collections of them not only in Greek and Latin, but even in Syriac, Arabick, and other more unknown tongues.

JOHNSON.

'I would have as many of these as possible; I would have verses in every language that there are the means of acquiring.

Nobody imagines that an University is to have at once two hundred poets; but it should be able to show two hundred scholars.

Pieresc's[1109] death was lamented, I think, in forty languages.

And I would have had at every coronation, and every death of a King, every _Gaudium_, and every _Luctus_, University-verses, in as many languages as can be acquired.

I would have the world to be thus told, "Here is a school where every thing may be learnt."

' Having set out next day on a visit to the Earl of Pembroke, at Wilton[1110], and to my friend, Mr. Temple[1111], at Mamhead, in Devonshire, and not having returned to town till the second of May, I did not see Dr. Johnson for a considerable time, and during the remaining part of my stay in London, kept very imperfect notes of his conversation, which had I according to my usual custom written out at large soon after the time, much might have been preserved, which is now irretrievably lost.

I can now only record some particular scenes, and a few fragments of his _memorabilia_.

But to make some amends for my relaxation of diligence in one respect, I have to present my readers with arguments upon two law cases, with which he favoured me.

On Saturday, the sixth of May, we dined by ourselves at the Mitre, and he dictated to me what follows, to obviate the complaint already mentioned[1112], which had been made in the form of an action in the Court of Session, by Dr. Memis, of Aberdeen, that in the same translation of a charter in which _physicians_ were mentioned, he was called _Doctor of Medicine_.

'There are but two reasons for which a physician can decline the title of _Doctor of Medicine_, because he supposes himself disgraced by the doctorship, or supposes the doctorship disgraced by himself.

To be disgraced by a title which he shares in common with every illustrious name of his profession, with Boerhaave, with Arbuthnot, and with Cullen, can surely diminish no man's reputation.

It is, I suppose, to the doctorate, from which he shrinks, that he owes his right of practising physick.

A doctor of Medicine is a physician under the protection of the laws, and by the stamp of authority.

The physician, who is not a Doctor, usurps a profession, and is authorised only by himself to decide upon health and sickness, and life and death.

That this gentleman is a Doctor, his diploma makes evident; a diploma not obtruded upon him, but obtained by solicitation, and for which fees were paid.

With what countenance any man can refuse the title which he has either begged or bought, is not easily discovered.

'All verbal injury must comprise in it either some false position, or some unnecessary declaration of defamatory truth.

That in calling him Doctor, a false appellation was given him, he himself will not pretend, who at the same time that he complains of the title, would be offended if we supposed him to be not a Doctor.

If the title of Doctor be a defamatory truth, it is time to dissolve our colleges; for why should the publick give salaries to men whose approbation is reproach?

It may likewise deserve the notice of the publick to consider what help can be given to the professors of physick, who all share with this unhappy gentleman the ignominious appellation, and of whom the very boys in the street are not afraid to say, _There goes the Doctor_.

'What is implied by the term Doctor is well known.

It distinguishes him to whom it is granted, as a man who has attained such knowledge of his profession as qualifies him to instruct others.

A Doctor of Laws is a man who can form lawyers by his precepts.

A Doctor of Medicine is a man who can teach the art of curing diseases.

There is an old axiom which no man has yet thought fit to deny, _Nil dat quod non habet_.

Upon this principle to be Doctor implies skill, for _nemo docet quod non didicit_.

In England, whoever practises physick, not being a Doctor, must practise by a licence: but the doctorate conveys a licence in itself.

'By what accident it happened that he and the other physicians were mentioned in different terms, where the terms themselves were equivalent, or where in effect that which was applied to him was the most honourable, perhaps they who wrote the paper cannot now remember.

Had they expected a lawsuit to have been the consequence of such petty variation, I hope they would have avoided it[1113].

But, probably, as they meant no ill, they suspected no danger, and, therefore, consulted only what appeared to them propriety or convenience.'

A few days afterwards I consulted him upon a cause, _Paterson and others_ against _Alexander and others_, which had been decided by a casting vote in the Court of Session, determining that the Corporation of Stirling was corrupt, and setting aside the election of some of their officers, because it was proved that three of the leading men who influenced the majority had entered into an unjustifiable compact, of which, however, the majority were ignorant.

He dictated to me, after a little consideration, the following sentences upon the subject:-- 'There is a difference between majority and superiority; majority is applied to number, and superiority to power; and power, like many other things, is to be estimated _non numero sed pondere_.

Now though the greater _number_ is not corrupt, the greater _weight_ is corrupt, so that corruption predominates in the borough, taken _collectively_, though, perhaps, taken _numerically_, the greater part may be uncorrupt.

That borough, which is so constituted as to act corruptly, is in the eye of reason corrupt, whether it be by the uncontrolable power of a few, or by an accidental pravity of the multitude.

The objection, in which is urged the injustice of making the innocent suffer with the guilty, is an objection not only against society, but against the possibility of society.

All societies, great and small, subsist upon this condition;

that as the individuals derive advantages from union, they may likewise suffer inconveniences; that as those who do nothing, and sometimes those who do ill, will have the honours and emoluments of general virtue and general prosperity, so those likewise who do nothing, or perhaps do well, must be involved in the consequences of predominant corruption.'

This in my opinion was a very nice case; but the decision was affirmed in the House of Lords.

On Monday, May 8, we went together and visited the mansions of Bedlam[1114].

I had been informed that he had once been there before with Mr. Wedderburne, (now Lord Loughborough,) Mr. Murphy, and Mr. Foote; and I had heard Foote give a very entertaining account of Johnson's happening to have his attention arrested by a man who was very furious, and who, while beating his straw[1115], supposed it was William Duke of Cumberland, whom he was punishing for his cruelties in Scotland, in 1746[1116].

There was nothing peculiarly remarkable this day; but the general contemplation of insanity was very affecting.

I accompanied him home, and dined and drank tea with him.

Talking of an acquaintance of ours[1117], distinguished for knowing an uncommon variety of miscellaneous articles both in antiquities and polite literature, he observed, 'You know, Sir, he runs about with little weight upon his mind.'

And talking of another very ingenious gentleman[1118], who from the warmth of his temper was at variance with many of his acquaintance, and wished to avoid them, he said, 'Sir, he leads the life of an outlaw.'

On Friday, May 12[1119], as he had been so good as to assign me a room in his house, where I might sleep occasionally, when I happened to sit with him to a late hour, I took possession of it this night, found every thing in excellent order, and was attended by honest Francis with a most civil assiduity.

I asked Johnson whether I might go to a consultation with another lawyer upon Sunday, as that appeared to me to be doing work as much in my way, as if an artisan should work on the day appropriated for religious rest.

JOHNSON.

'Why, Sir, when you are of consequence enough to oppose the practice of consulting upon Sunday, you should do it: but you may go now.

It is not criminal, though it is not what one should do, who is anxious for the preservation and increase of piety, to which a peculiar observance of Sunday is a great help.

The distinction is clear between what is of moral and what is of ritual obligation.'

On Saturday, May 13, I breakfasted with him by invitation, accompanied by Mr. Andrew Crosbie[1120], a Scotch Advocate, whom he had seen at Edinburgh, and the Hon. Colonel (now General) Edward Stopford, brother to Lord Courtown, who was desirous of being introduced to him.

His tea and rolls and butter, and whole breakfast apparatus were all in such decorum, and his behaviour was so courteous, that Colonel Stopford was quite surprised, and wondered at his having heard so much said of Johnson's slovenliness and roughness.

I have preserved nothing of what passed, except that Crosbie pleased him much by talking learnedly of alchymy, as to which Johnson was not a positive unbeliever, but rather delighted in considering what progress had actually been made in the transmutation of metals, what near approaches there had been to the making of gold; and told us that it was affirmed, that a person in the Russian dominions had discovered the secret, but died without revealing it, as imagining it would be prejudicial to society.

He added, that it was not impossible but it might in time be generally known.

It being asked whether it was reasonable for a man to be angry at another whom a woman had preferred to him;--JOHNSON.

'I do not see, Sir, that it is reasonable for a man to be angry at another, whom a woman has preferred to him: but angry he is, no doubt; and he is loath to be angry at himself.'

Before setting out for Scotland on the 23rd[1121], I was frequently in his company at different places, but during this period have recorded only two remarks: one concerning Garrick: 'He has not Latin enough.

He finds out the Latin by the meaning rather than the meaning by the Latin[1122].'

And another concerning writers of travels, who, he observed, 'were more defective than any other writers[1123].'

I passed many hours with him on the 17th[1124], of which I find all my memorial is, 'much laughing.'

It should seem he had that day been in a humour for jocularity and merriment, and upon such occasions I never knew a man laugh more heartily.

We may suppose, that the high relish of a state so different from his habitual gloom, produced more than ordinary exertions of that distinguishing faculty of man, which has puzzled philosophers so much to explain[1125].

Johnson's laugh was as remarkable as any circumstance in his manner.

It was a kind of good humoured growl.

Tom Davies described it drolly enough: 'He laughs like a rhinoceros.'

'To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR, 'I have an old amanuensis[1126] in great distress.

I have given what I think I can give, and begged till I cannot tell where to beg again.

I

put into his hands this morning four guineas.

If you could collect three guineas more, it would clear him from his present difficulty.

'I am, Sir, 'Your most humble servant, 'SAM.

JOHNSON.'

'May 21, 1775.' 'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR, 'I make no doubt but you are now safely lodged in your own habitation, and have told all your adventures to Mrs. Boswell and Miss Veronica.

Pray teach Veronica to love me.

Bid her not mind mamma.

'Mrs. Thrale has taken cold, and been very much disordered, but I hope is grown well.

Mr. Langton went yesterday to Lincolnshire, and has invited Nicolaida[1127] to follow him.

Beauclerk talks of going to Bath.

I

am to set out on Monday; so there is nothing but dispersion.

'I have returned Lord Hailes's entertaining sheets[1128], but must stay till I come back for more, because it will be inconvenient to send them after me in my vagrant state.

'I promised Mrs. Macaulay[1129] that I would try to serve her son at Oxford.

I have not forgotten it, nor am unwilling to perform it.

If they desire to give him an English education, it should be considered whether they cannot send him for a year or two to an English school.

If he comes immediately from Scotland, he can make no figure in our Universities.

The schools in the north, I believe, are cheap; and, when I was a young man, were eminently good.

'There are two little books published by the Foulis[1130], Telemachus and Collins's _Poems_, each a shilling: I would be glad to have them.

'Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, though she does not love me.

You see what perverse things ladies are, and how little fit to be trusted with feudal estates.

When she mends and loves me, there may be more hope of her daughters.

'I will not send compliments to my friends by name, because I would be loath to leave any out in the enumeration.

Tell them, as you see them, how well I speak of Scotch politeness, and Scotch hospitality, and Scotch beauty, and of every thing Scotch, but Scotch oat-cakes, and Scotch prejudices.

'Let me know the answer of Rasay[1131], and the decision relating to Sir Allan[1132].

'I am, my dearest Sir, with great affection, 'Your most obliged, and 'Most humble servant, 'SAM.

JOHNSON.'

'May 27, 1775.' After my return to Scotland, I wrote three letters to him, from which I extract the following passages:-- 'I have seen Lord Hailes since I came down.

He thinks it wonderful that you are pleased to take so much pains in revising his _Annals_.

I told him that you said you were well rewarded by the entertainment which you had in reading them.'

'There has been a numerous flight of Hebrideans in Edinburgh this summer, whom I have been happy to entertain at my house.

Mr. Donald Macqueen[1133] and Lord Monboddo supped with me one evening.

They joined in controverting your proposition, that the Gaelick of the Highlands and Isles of Scotland was not written till of late.'

'My mind has been somewhat dark this summer[1134].

I have need of your warming and vivifying rays; and I hope I shall have them frequently.

I

am going to pass some time with my father at Auchinleck.'

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR, 'I am returned from the annual ramble into the middle counties[1135].

Having seen nothing I had not seen before, I have nothing to relate.

Time has left that part of the island few antiquities; and commerce has left the people no singularities.

I was glad to go abroad, and, perhaps, glad to come home; which is, in other words, I was, I am afraid, weary of being at home, and weary of being abroad.

Is not this the state of life?

But, if we confess this weariness, let us not lament it, for all the wise and all the good say, that we may cure it.

'For the black fumes which rise in your mind, I can prescribe nothing but that you disperse them by honest business or innocent pleasure, and by reading, sometimes easy and sometimes serious.

Change of place is useful; and I hope that your residence at Auchinleck will have many good effects[1136].

'That I should have given pain to Rasay, I am sincerely sorry; and am therefore very much pleased that he is no longer uneasy.

He still thinks that I have represented him as personally giving up the Chieftainship.

I

meant only that it was no longer contested between the two houses, and supposed it settled, perhaps, by the cession of some remote generation, in the house of Dunvegan.

I am sorry the advertisement was not continued for three or four times in the paper.

'That Lord Monboddo and Mr. Macqueen should controvert a position contrary to the imaginary interest of literary or national prejudice, might be easily imagined; but of a standing fact there ought to be no controversy: If there are men with tails, catch an _homo caudatus_; if there was writing of old in the Highlands or Hebrides, in the Erse language, produce the manuscripts.

Where men write, they will write to one another, and some of their letters, in families studious of their ancestry, will be kept.

In Wales there are many manuscripts.

'I have now three parcels of Lord Hailes's history, which I purpose to return all the next week: that his respect for my little observations should keep his work in suspense, makes one of the evils of my journey.

It is in our language, I think, a new mode of history, which tells all that is wanted, and, I suppose, all that is known, without laboured splendour of language, or affected subtilty of conjecture.

The exactness of his dates raises my wonder.

He seems to have the closeness of Henault[1137] without his constraint.

'Mrs. Thrale was so entertained with your _Journal_[1138], that she almost read herself blind.

She has a great regard for you.

'Of Mrs. Boswell, though she knows in her heart that she does not love me, I am always glad to hear any good, and hope that she and the little dear ladies will have neither sickness nor any other affliction.

But she knows that she does not care what becomes of me, and for that she may be sure that I think her very much to blame.

'Never, my dear Sir, do you take it into your head to think that I do not love you; you may settle yourself in full confidence both of my love and my esteem; I love you as a kind man, I value you as a worthy man, and hope in time to reverence you as a man of exemplary piety.

I hold you, as Hamlet has it, 'in my heart of hearts[1139],' and therefore, it is little to say, that I am, Sir, 'Your affectionate humble servant, 'SAM.

JOHNSON.'

'London, Aug.

27, 1775.' TO THE SAME.

'SIR, 'If in these papers[1140] there is little alteration attempted, do not suppose me negligent.

I have read them perhaps more closely than the rest; but I find nothing worthy of an objection.

'Write to me soon, and write often, and tell me all your honest heart.

'I am Sir, 'Yours affectionately, 'SAM.

JOHNSON.'

'Aug.

30, 1775.' TO THE SAME.

'MY DEAR SIR, 'I now write to you, lest in some of your freaks and humours you should fancy yourself neglected.

Such fancies I must entreat you never to admit, at least never to indulge: for my regard for you is so radicated and fixed, that it is become part of my mind, and cannot be effaced but by some cause uncommonly violent; therefore, whether I write or not, set your thoughts at rest.

I now write to tell you that I shall not very soon write again, for I am to set out to-morrow on another journey.

* * * * * 'Your friends are all well at Streatham, and in Leicester-fields[1141].

Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, if she is in good humour with me.

'I am, Sir, &c. 'SAM.

JOHNSON.'

'September 14, 1775.' What he mentions in such light terms as, 'I am to set out to-morrow on another journey,' I soon afterwards discovered was no less than a tour to France with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale.

This was the only time in his life that he went upon the Continent.

'To MR. ROBERT LEVET.

'Sept.

18[1142], 1775. Calais.

'DEAR SIR, 'We are here in France, after a very pleasing passage of no more than six hours.

I know not when I shall write again, and therefore I write now, though you cannot suppose that I have much to say.

You have seen France yourself[1143].

From this place we are going to Rouen, and from Rouen to Paris, where Mr. Thrale designs to stay about five or six weeks.

We have a regular recommendation to the English resident, so we shall not be taken for vagabonds.

We think to go one way and return another, and for [?

see] as much as we can.

I will try to speak a little French[1144]; I tried hitherto but little, but I spoke sometimes.

If I heard better, I suppose I should learn faster.

I am, Sir, 'Your humble servant, 'SAM.

JOHNSON.'

To THE SAME.

'Paris, Oct.

22, 1775. 'DEAR SIR,

'We are still here, commonly very busy in looking about us.

We have been to-day at Versailles.

You have seen it, and I shall not describe it.

We came yesterday from Fontainbleau, where the Court is now.

We went to see the King and Queen at dinner, and the Queen was so impressed by Miss[1145], that she sent one of the Gentlemen to enquire who she was.

I find all true that you have ever told me of Paris.

Mr. Thrale is very liberal, and keeps us two coaches, and a very fine table; but I think our cookery very bad[1146].

Mrs. Thrale got into a convent of English nuns, and I talked with her through the grate, and I am very kindly used by the English Benedictine friars.

But upon the whole I cannot make much acquaintance here; and though the churches, palaces, and some private houses are very magnificent, there is no very great pleasure after having seen many, in seeing more; at least the pleasure, whatever it be, must some time have an end, and we are beginning to think when we shall come home.

Mr. Thrale calculates that, as we left Streatham on the fifteenth of September, we shall see it again about the fifteenth of November.

'I think I had not been on this side of the sea five days before I found a sensible improvement in my health.

I ran a race in the rain this day, and beat Baretti.

Baretti is a fine fellow, and speaks French, I think, quite as well as English[1147].

'Make my compliments to Mrs. Williams; and give my love to Francis; and tell my friends that I am not lost.

I am, dear Sir, 'Your affectionate humble, &c. 'SAM.