Life of Johnson

J >> James Boswell >> Life of Johnson


We drank tea with the ladies; and Goldsmith sung Tony Lumpkin's song in
his comedy, She Stoops to Conquer, and a very pretty one, to an Irish
tune, which he had designed for Miss Hardcastle; but as Mrs. Bulkeley,
who played the part, could not sing, it was left out. He afterwards
wrote it down for me, by which means it was preserved, and now appears
amongst his poems. Dr. Johnson, in his way home, stopped at my lodgings
in Piccadilly, and sat with me, drinking tea a second time, till a late
hour.

I told him that Mrs. Macaulay said, she wondered how he could reconcile
his political principles with his moral; his notions of inequality and
subordination with wishing well to the happiness of all mankind, who
might live so agreeably, had they all their portions of land, and none
to domineer over another. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I reconcile my principles
very well, because mankind are happier in a state of inequality and
subordination. Were they to be in this pretty state of equality,
they would soon degenerate into brutes;--they would become Monboddo's
nation;--their tails would grow. Sir, all would be losers were all
to work for all--they would have no intellectual improvement. All
intellectual improvement arises from leisure; all leisure arises from
one working for another.'

Talking of the family of Stuart, he said, 'It should seem that the
family at present on the throne has now established as good a right
as the former family, by the long consent of the people; and that to
disturb this right might be considered as culpable. At the same time I
own, that it is a very difficult question, when considered with respect
to the house of Stuart. To oblige people to take oaths as to the
disputed right, is wrong. I know not whether I could take them: but I
do not blame those who do.' So conscientious and so delicate was he upon
this subject, which has occasioned so much clamour against him.

On Thursday, April 15, I dined with him and Dr. Goldsmith at General
Paoli's.

I spoke of Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, in the Scottish dialect, as
the best pastoral that had ever been written; not only abounding with
beautiful rural imagery, and just and pleasing sentiments, but being
a real picture of manners; and I offered to teach Dr. Johnson to
understand it. 'No, Sir, (said he,) I won't learn it. You shall retain
your superiority by my not knowing it.'

It having been observed that there was little hospitality in
London;--JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, any man who has a name, or who has the
power of pleasing, will be very generally invited in London. The
man, Sterne, I have been told, has had engagements for three months.'
GOLDSMITH. 'And a very dull fellow.' JOHNSON. 'Why, no, Sir.'

Martinelli told us, that for several years he lived much with Charles
Townshend, and that he ventured to tell him he was a bad joker. JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, thus much I can say upon the subject. One day he and a few
more agreed to go and dine in the country, and each of them was to bring
a friend in his carriage with him. Charles Townshend asked Fitzherbert
to go with him, but told him, "You must find somebody to bring you
back: I can only carry you there." Fitzherbert did not much like this
arrangement. He however consented, observing sarcastically, "It will
do very well; for then the same jokes will serve you in returning as in
going."'

An eminent publick character being mentioned;--JOHNSON. 'I remember
being present when he shewed himself to be so corrupted, or at least
something so different from what I think right, as to maintain, that a
member of parliament should go along with his party right or wrong. Now,
Sir, this is so remote from native virtue, from scholastick virtue, that
a good man must have undergone a great change before he can reconcile
himself to such a doctrine. It is maintaining that you may lie to the
publick; for you lie when you call that right which you think wrong,
or the reverse. A friend of ours, who is too much an echo of that
gentleman, observed, that a man who does not stick uniformly to a party,
is only waiting to be bought. Why then, said I, he is only waiting to be
what that gentleman is already.'

We talked of the King's coming to see Goldsmith's new play.--'I wish he
would,' said Goldsmith; adding, however, with an affected indifference,
'Not that it would do me the least good.' JOHNSON. 'Well then, Sir, let
us say it would do HIM good, (laughing.) No, Sir, this affectation will
not pass;--it is mighty idle. In such a state as ours, who would not
wish to please the Chief Magistrate?' GOLDSMITH. 'I DO wish to please
him. I remember a line in Dryden,--

"And every poet is the monarch's friend."

It ought to be reversed.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, there are finer lines in Dryden
on this subject:--

"For colleges on bounteous Kings depend,
And never rebel was to arts a friend."'

General Paoli observed, that 'successful rebels might.' MARTINELLI.
'Happy rebellions.' GOLDSMITH. 'We have no such phrase.' GENERAL
PAOLI. 'But have you not the THING?' GOLDSMITH. 'Yes; all our HAPPY
revolutions. They have hurt our constitution, and will hurt it, till we
mend it by another HAPPY REVOLUTION.' I never before discovered that my
friend Goldsmith had so much of the old prejudice in him.

General Paoli, talking of Goldsmith's new play, said, 'Il a fait un
compliment tres gracieux a une certaine grande dame;' meaning a Duchess
of the first rank.

I expressed a doubt whether Goldsmith intended it, in order that I
might hear the truth from himself. It, perhaps, was not quite fair to
endeavour to bring him to a confession, as he might not wish to avow
positively his taking part against the Court. He smiled and hesitated.
The General at once relieved him, by this beautiful image: 'Monsieur
Goldsmith est comme la mer, qui jette des perles et beaucoup d'autres
belles choses, sans s'en appercevoir.' GOLDSMITH. 'Tres bien dit et tres
elegamment.'

A person was mentioned, who it was said could take down in short hand
the speeches in parliament with perfect exactness. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it
is impossible. I remember one, Angel, who came to me to write for him
a Preface or Dedication to a book upon short hand, and he professed to
write as fast as a man could speak. In order to try him, I took down
a book, and read while he wrote; and I favoured him, for I read more
deliberately than usual. I had proceeded but a very little way, when he
begged I would desist, for he could not follow me.' Hearing now for the
first time of this Preface or Dedication, I said, 'What an expense, Sir,
do you put us to in buying books, to which you have written Prefaces or
Dedications.' JOHNSON. 'Why, I have dedicated to the Royal family all
round; that is to say, to the last generation of the Royal family.'
GOLDSMITH. 'And perhaps, Sir, not one sentence of wit in a whole
Dedication.' JOHNSON. 'Perhaps not, Sir.' BOSWELL. 'What then is the
reason for applying to a particular person to do that which any one may
do as well?' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, one man has greater readiness at doing
it than another.'

I spoke of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, as being a very learned man, and
in particular an eminent Grecian. JOHNSON. 'I am not sure of that. His
friends give him out as such, but I know not who of his friends are able
to judge of it.' GOLDSMITH. 'He is what is much better: he is a worthy
humane man.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, that is not to the purpose of our
argument: that will as much prove that he can play upon the fiddle as
well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian.' GOLDSMITH. 'The
greatest musical performers have but small emoluments. Giardini, I am
told, does not get above seven hundred a year.' JOHNSON. 'That is indeed
but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour
to do. There is nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown
so much as in playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can do
something at first. Any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a
hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of
wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a
fiddle-stick, and he can do nothing.'

On Monday, April 19, he called on me with Mrs. Williams, in Mr.
Strahan's coach, and carried me out to dine with Mr. Elphinston, at his
academy at Kensington. A printer having acquired a fortune sufficient
to keep his coach, was a good topick for the credit of literature. Mrs.
Williams said, that another printer, Mr. Hamilton, had not waited
so long as Mr. Strahan, but had kept his coach several years sooner.
JOHNSON. 'He was in the right. Life is short. The sooner that a man
begins to enjoy his wealth the better.'

Mr. Elphinston talked of a new book that was much admired, and asked
Dr. Johnson if he had read it. JOHNSON. 'I have looked into it.' 'What,
(said Elphinston,) have you not read it through?' Johnson, offended at
being thus pressed, and so obliged to own his cursory mode of reading,
answered tartly, 'No, Sir, do YOU read books THROUGH?'

On Wednesday, April 21, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's. A gentleman
attacked Garrick for being vain. JOHNSON. 'No wonder, Sir, that he
is vain; a man who is perpetually flattered in every mode that can be
conceived. So many bellows have blown the fire, that one wonders he is
not by this time become a cinder.' BOSWELL. 'And such bellows too. Lord
Mansfield with his cheeks like to burst: Lord Chatham like an Aeolus. I
have read such notes from them to him, as were enough to turn his head.'
JOHNSON. 'True. When he whom every body else flatters, flatters me,
I then am truly happy.' Mrs. THRALE. 'The sentiment is in Congreve, I
think.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Madam, in The Way of the World:

"If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see
That heart which others bleed for, bleed for me."

No, Sir, I should not be surprized though Garrick chained the ocean, and
lashed the winds.' BOSWELL. 'Should it not be, Sir, lashed the ocean and
chained the winds?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, recollect the original:

"In Corum atque Eurum solitus saevire flagellis
Barbarus, Aeolia nunquam hoc in carcere passos,
Ipsum compedibus qui vinxerat Ennosigaeum."

The modes of living in different countries, and the various views
with which men travel in quest of new scenes, having been talked of, a
learned gentleman who holds a considerable office in the law, expatiated
on the happiness of a savage life; and mentioned an instance of an
officer who had actually lived for some time in the wilds of America,
of whom, when in that state, he quoted this reflection with an air of
admiration, as if it had been deeply philosophical: 'Here am I, free and
unrestrained, amidst the rude magnificence of Nature, with this Indian
woman by my side, and this gun with which I can procure food when I want
it; what more can be desired for human happiness?' It did not require
much sagacity to foresee that such a sentiment would not be permitted to
pass without due animadversion. JOHNSON. 'Do not allow yourself, Sir, to
be imposed upon by such gross absurdity. It is sad stuff; it is brutish.
If a bull could speak, he might as well exclaim,--Here am I with this
cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?'

We talked of the melancholy end of a gentleman who had destroyed
himself. JOHNSON. 'It was owing to imaginary difficulties in his
affairs, which, had he talked with any friend, would soon have
vanished.' BOSWELL. 'Do you think, Sir, that all who commit suicide are
mad?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, they are often not universally disordered in their
intellects, but one passion presses so upon them, that they yield to it,
and commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another.' He added,
'I have often thought, that after a man has taken the resolution to kill
himself, it is not courage in him to do any thing, however desperate,
because he has nothing to fear.' GOLDSMITH. 'I don't see that.' JOHNSON.
'Nay, but my dear Sir, why should not you see what every one else sees?'
GOLDSMITH. 'It is for fear of something that he has resolved to kill
himself; and will not that timid disposition restrain him?' JOHNSON. 'It
does not signify that the fear of something made him resolve; it is
upon the state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, that I argue.
Suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or whatever
motive, has resolved to kill himself; when once the resolution is taken,
he has nothing to fear. He may then go and take the King of Prussia
by the nose, at the head of his army. He cannot fear the rack, who is
resolved to kill himself. When Eustace Budgel was walking down to the
Thames, determined to drown himself, he might, if he pleased, without
any apprehension of danger, have turned aside, and first set fire to St.
James's palace.'

On Tuesday, April 27, Mr. Beauclerk and I called on him in the morning.
As we walked up Johnson's-court, I said, 'I have a veneration for this
court;' and was glad to find that Beauclerk had the same reverential
enthusiasm. We found him alone. We talked of Mr. Andrew Stuart's elegant
and plausible Letters to Lord Mansfield: a copy of which had been sent
by the authour to Dr. Johnson. JOHNSON. 'They have not answered the end.
They have not been talked of; I have never heard of them. This is owing
to their not being sold. People seldom read a book which is given to
them; and few are given. The way to spread a work is to sell it at a low
price. No man will send to buy a thing that costs even sixpence, without
an intention to read it.'

He said, 'Goldsmith should not be for ever attempting to shine in
conversation: he has not temper for it, he is so much mortified when
he fails. Sir, a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of
chance, a man may be beat at times by one who has not the tenth part of
his wit. Now Goldsmith's putting himself against another, is like a man
laying a hundred to one who cannot spare the hundred. It is not worth a
man's while. A man should not lay a hundred to one, unless he can easily
spare it, though he has a hundred chances for him: he can get but a
guinea, and he may lose a hundred. Goldsmith is in this state. When he
contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addition to a
man of his literary reputation: if he does not get the better, he is
miserably vexed.'

Johnson's own superlative powers of wit set him above any risk of
such uneasiness. Garrick had remarked to me of him, a few days before,
'Rabelais and all other wits are nothing compared with him. You may
be diverted by them; but Johnson gives you a forcible hug, and shakes
laughter out of you, whether you will or no.'

Goldsmith, however, was often very fortunate in his witty contests, even
when he entered the lists with Johnson himself. Sir Joshua Reynolds was
in company with them one day, when Goldsmith said, that he thought he
could write a good fable, mentioned the simplicity which that kind of
composition requires, and observed, that in most fables the animals
introduced seldom talk in character. 'For instance, (said he,) the fable
of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and envying
them, petitioned Jupiter to be changed into birds. The skill (continued
he,) consists in making them talk like little fishes.' While he indulged
himself in this fanciful reverie, he observed Johnson shaking his sides,
and laughing. Upon which he smartly proceeded, 'Why, Dr. Johnson, this
is not so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little
fishes talk, they would talk like WHALES.'

On Thursday, April 29, I dined with him at General Oglethorpe's, where
were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. Thrale. I
was very desirous to get Dr. Johnson absolutely fixed in his resolution
to go with me to the Hebrides this year; and I told him that I had
received a letter from Dr. Robertson the historian, upon the subject,
with which he was much pleased; and now talked in such a manner of
his long-intended tour, that I was satisfied he meant to fulfil his
engagement.

The character of Mallet having been introduced, and spoken of
slightingly by Goldsmith; JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, Mallet had talents enough
to keep his literary reputation alive as long as he himself lived; and
that, let me tell you, is a good deal.' GOLDSMITH. 'But I cannot agree
that it was so. His literary reputation was dead long before his natural
death. I consider an authour's literary reputation to be alive
only while his name will ensure a good price for his copy from the
booksellers. I will get you (to Johnson,) a hundred guineas for any
thing whatever that you shall write, if you put your name to it.'

Dr. Goldsmith's new play, She Stoops to Conquer, being mentioned;
JOHNSON. 'I know of no comedy for many years that has so much
exhilarated an audience, that has answered so much the great end of
comedy--making an audience merry.'

Goldsmith having said, that Garrick's compliment to the Queen, which
he introduced into the play of The Chances, which he had altered and
revised this year, was mean and gross flattery; JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, I
would not WRITE, I would not give solemnly under my hand, a character
beyond what I thought really true; but a speech on the stage, let it
flatter ever so extravagantly, is formular. It has always been formular
to flatter Kings and Queens; so much so, that even in our church-service
we have "our most religious King," used indiscriminately, whoever is
King. Nay, they even flatter themselves;--"we have been graciously
pleased to grant." No modern flattery, however, is so gross as that
of the Augustan age, where the Emperour was deified. "Proesens Divus
habebitur Augustus." And as to meanness, (rising into warmth,) how is
it mean in a player,--a showman,--a fellow who exhibits himself for a
shilling, to flatter his Queen? The attempt, indeed, was dangerous; for
if it had missed, what became of Garrick, and what became of the Queen?
As Sir William Temple says of a great General, it is necessary not only
that his designs be formed in a masterly manner, but that they should be
attended with success. Sir, it is right, at a time when the Royal Family
is not generally liked, to let it be seen that the people like at least
one of them.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'I do not perceive why the profession
of a player should be despised; for the great and ultimate end of all
the employments of mankind is to produce amusement. Garrick produces
more amusement than any body.' BOSWELL. 'You say, Dr. Johnson, that
Garrick exhibits himself for a shilling. In this respect he is only on
a footing with a lawyer who exhibits himself for his fee, and even will
maintain any nonsense or absurdity, if the case requires it. Garrick
refuses a play or a part which he does not like; a lawyer never
refuses.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, what does this prove? only that a lawyer
is worse. Boswell is now like Jack in The Tale of a Tub, who, when he is
puzzled by an argument, hangs himself. He thinks I shall cut him down,
but I'll let him hang.' (laughing vociferously.) SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
'Mr. Boswell thinks that the profession of a lawyer being unquestionably
honourable, if he can show the profession of a player to be more
honourable, he proves his argument.'

On Friday, April 30, I dined with him at Mr. Beauclerk's, where were
Lord Charlemont, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and some more members of the
LITERARY CLUB, whom he had obligingly invited to meet me, as I was
this evening to be balloted for as candidate for admission into that
distinguished society. Johnson had done me the honour to propose me, and
Beauclerk was very zealous for me.

Goldsmith being mentioned; JOHNSON. 'It is amazing how little Goldsmith
knows. He seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any one else.'
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. 'Yet there is no man whose company is more
liked.' JOHNSON. 'To be sure, Sir. When people find a man of the most
distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferiour while he is with
them, it must be highly gratifying to them. What Goldsmith comically
says of himself is very true,--he always gets the better when he argues
alone; meaning, that he is master of a subject in his study, and can
write well upon it; but when he comes into company, grows confused,
and unable to talk. Take him as a poet, his Traveller is a very fine
performance; ay, and so is his Deserted Village, were it not sometimes
too much the echo of his Traveller. Whether, indeed, we take him as a
poet,--as a comick writer,--or as an historian, he stands in the first
class.' BOSWELL. 'An historian! My dear Sir, you surely will not rank
his compilation of the Roman History with the works of other
historians of this age?' JOHNSON. 'Why, who are before him?' BOSWELL.
'Hume,--Robertson,--Lord Lyttelton.' JOHNSON (his antipathy to the
Scotch beginning to rise). 'I have not read Hume; but, doubtless,
Goldsmith's History is better than the VERBIAGE of Robertson, or the
foppery of Dalrymple.' BOSWELL. 'Will you not admit the superiority of
Robertson, in whose History we find such penetration--such painting?'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, you must consider how that penetration and that painting
are employed. It is not history, it is imagination. He who describes
what he never saw, draws from fancy. Robertson paints minds as
Sir Joshua paints faces in a history-piece: he imagines an heroic
countenance. You must look upon Robertson's work as romance, and try
it by that standard. History it is not. Besides, Sir, it is the great
excellence of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will
hold. Goldsmith has done this in his History. Now Robertson might have
put twice as much into his book. Robertson is like a man who has packed
gold in wool: the wool takes up more room than the gold. No, Sir; I
always thought Robertson would be crushed by his own weight,--would be
buried under his own ornaments. Goldsmith tells you shortly all you want
to know: Robertson detains you a great deal too long. No man will
read Robertson's cumbrous detail a second time; but Goldsmith's plain
narrative will please again and again. I would say to Robertson what
an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils: "Read over your
compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think
is particularly fine, strike it out." Goldsmith's abridgement is better
than that of Lucius Florus or Eutropius; and I will venture to say, that
if you compare him with Vertot, in the same places of the Roman History,
you will find that he excels Vertot. Sir, he has the art of compiling,
and of saying every thing he has to say in a pleasing manner. He is now
writing a Natural History and will make it as entertaining as a Persian
Tale.'

I cannot dismiss the present topick without observing, that it is
probable that Dr. Johnson, who owned that he often 'talked for
victory,' rather urged plausible objections to Dr. Robertson's excellent
historical works, in the ardour of contest, than expressed his real and
decided opinion; for it is not easy to suppose, that he should so widely
differ from the rest of the literary world.

JOHNSON. 'I remember once being with Goldsmith in Westminster-abbey.
While we surveyed the Poets' Corner, I said to him,


"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis."


when we got to Temple-bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it,
and slily whispered me,


"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur ISTIS."'*

* In allusion to Dr. Johnson's supposed political
principles, and perhaps his own. Boswell.

Johnson praised John Bunyan highly. 'His Pilgrim's Progress has great
merit, both for invention, imagination, and the conduct of the story;
and it has had the best evidence of its merit, the general and continued
approbation of mankind. Few books, I believe, have had a more extensive
sale. It is remarkable, that it begins very much like the poem of Dante;
yet there was no translation of Dante when Bunyan wrote. There is reason
to think that he had read Spenser.'

A proposition which had been agitated, that monuments to eminent persons
should, for the time to come, be erected in St. Paul's church as well
as in Westminster-abbey, was mentioned; and it was asked, who should be
honoured by having his monument first erected there. Somebody suggested
Pope. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, as Pope was a Roman Catholick, I would
not have his to be first. I think Milton's rather should have the
precedence. I think more highly of him now than I did at twenty. There
is more thinking in him and in Butler, than in any of our poets.'

The gentlemen went away to their club, and I was left at Beauclerk's
till the fate of my election should be announced to me. I sat in a state
of anxiety which even the charming conversation of Lady Di Beauclerk
could not entirely dissipate. In a short time I received the agreeable
intelligence that I was chosen. I hastened to the place of meeting,
and was introduced to such a society as can seldom be found. Mr. Edmund
Burke, whom I then saw for the first time, and whose splendid talents
had long made me ardently wish for his acquaintance; Dr. Nugent, Mr.
Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Jones, and the
company with whom I had dined. Upon my entrance, Johnson placed himself
behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with
humorous formality gave me a Charge, pointing out the conduct expected
from me as a good member of this club.