Life of Johnson

J >> James Boswell >> Life of Johnson





THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.


Had Dr. Johnson written his own life, in conformity with the opinion
which he has given, that every man's life may be best written by
himself; had he employed in the preservation of his own history, that
clearness of narration and elegance of language in which he has embalmed
so many eminent persons, the world would probably have had the most
perfect example of biography that was ever exhibited. But although he
at different times, in a desultory manner, committed to writing many
particulars of the progress of his mind and fortunes, he never had
persevering diligence enough to form them into a regular composition.
Of these memorials a few have been preserved; but the greater part was
consigned by him to the flames, a few days before his death.

As I had the honour and happiness of enjoying his friendship for upwards
of twenty years; as I had the scheme of writing his life constantly in
view; as he was well apprised of this circumstance, and from time to
time obligingly satisfied my inquiries, by communicating to me the
incidents of his early years; as I acquired a facility in recollecting,
and was very assiduous in recording, his conversation, of which the
extraordinary vigour and vivacity constituted one of the first features
of his character; and as I have spared no pains in obtaining materials
concerning him, from every quarter where I could discover that they were
to be found, and have been favoured with the most liberal communications
by his friends; I flatter myself that few biographers have entered
upon such a work as this, with more advantages; independent of literary
abilities, in which I am not vain enough to compare myself with some
great names who have gone before me in this kind of writing.

Instead of melting down my materials into one mass, and constantly
speaking in my own person, by which I might have appeared to have more
merit in the execution of the work, I have resolved to adopt and enlarge
upon the excellent plan of Mr. Mason, in his Memoirs of Gray. Wherever
narrative is necessary to explain, connect, and supply, I furnish it to
the best of my abilities; but in the chronological series of Johnson's
life, which I trace as distinctly as I can, year by year, I produce,
wherever it is in my power, his own minutes, letters or conversation,
being convinced that this mode is more lively, and will make my readers
better acquainted with him, than even most of those were who actually
knew him, but could know him only partially; whereas there is here an
accumulation of intelligence from various points, by which his character
is more fully understood and illustrated.

Indeed I cannot conceive a more perfect mode of writing any man's life,
than not only relating all the most important events of it in their
order, but interweaving what he privately wrote, and said, and thought;
by which mankind are enabled as it were to see him live, and to 'live
o'er each scene' with him, as he actually advanced through the several
stages of his life. Had his other friends been as diligent and ardent
as I was, he might have been almost entirely preserved. As it is, I will
venture to say that he will be seen in this work more completely than
any man who has ever yet lived.

And he will be seen as he really was; for I profess to write, not his
panegyrick, which must be all praise, but his Life; which, great and
good as he was, must not be supposed to be entirely perfect. To be as he
was, is indeed subject of panegyrick enough to any man in this state of
being; but in every picture there should be shade as well as light, and
when I delineate him without reserve, I do what he himself recommended,
both by his precept and his example.

I am fully aware of the objections which may be made to the minuteness
on some occasions of my detail of Johnson's conversation, and how
happily it is adapted for the petty exercise of ridicule, by men of
superficial understanding and ludicrous fancy; but I remain firm
and confident in my opinion, that minute particulars are frequently
characteristick, and always amusing, when they relate to a distinguished
man. I am therefore exceedingly unwilling that any thing, however
slight, which my illustrious friend thought it worth his while to
express, with any degree of point, should perish.

Of one thing I am certain, that considering how highly the small portion
which we have of the table-talk and other anecdotes of our celebrated
writers is valued, and how earnestly it is regretted that we have not
more, I am justified in preserving rather too many of Johnson's sayings,
than too few; especially as from the diversity of dispositions it cannot
be known with certainty beforehand, whether what may seem trifling to
some, and perhaps to the collector himself, may not be most agreeable to
many; and the greater number that an authour can please in any degree,
the more pleasure does there arise to a benevolent mind.


Samuel Johnson was born at Lichfield, in Staffordshire, on the 18th of
September, N. S., 1709; and his initiation into the Christian Church was
not delayed; for his baptism is recorded, in the register of St. Mary's
parish in that city, to have been performed on the day of his birth. His
father is there stiled Gentleman, a circumstance of which an ignorant
panegyrist has praised him for not being proud; when the truth is, that
the appellation of Gentleman, though now lost in the indiscriminate
assumption of Esquire, was commonly taken by those who could not boast
of gentility. His father was Michael Johnson, a native of Derbyshire,
of obscure extraction, who settled in Lichfield as a bookseller and
stationer. His mother was Sarah Ford, descended of an ancient race of
substantial yeomanry in Warwickshire. They were well advanced in years
when they married, and never had more than two children, both sons;
Samuel, their first born, who lived to be the illustrious character
whose various excellence I am to endeavour to record, and Nathanael, who
died in his twenty-fifth year.

Mr. Michael Johnson was a man of a large and robust body, and of a
strong and active mind; yet, as in the most solid rocks veins of unsound
substance are often discovered, there was in him a mixture of that
disease, the nature of which eludes the most minute enquiry, though the
effects are well known to be a weariness of life, an unconcern about
those things which agitate the greater part of mankind, and a general
sensation of gloomy wretchedness. From him then his son inherited,
with some other qualities, 'a vile melancholy,' which in his too strong
expression of any disturbance of the mind, 'made him mad all his life,
at least not sober.' Michael was, however, forced by the narrowness of
his circumstances to be very diligent in business, not only in his shop,
but by occasionally resorting to several towns in the neighbourhood,
some of which were at a considerable distance from Lichfield. At that
time booksellers' shops in the provincial towns of England were very
rare, so that there was not one even in Birmingham, in which town old
Mr. Johnson used to open a shop every market-day. He was a pretty good
Latin scholar, and a citizen so creditable as to be made one of the
magistrates of Lichfield; and, being a man of good sense, and skill in
his trade, he acquired a reasonable share of wealth, of which however
he afterwards lost the greatest part, by engaging unsuccessfully in a
manufacture of parchment. He was a zealous high-church man and royalist,
and retained his attachment to the unfortunate house of Stuart, though
he reconciled himself, by casuistical arguments of expediency and
necessity, to take the oaths imposed by the prevailing power.

Johnson's mother was a woman of distinguished understanding. I asked
his old school-fellow, Mr. Hector, surgeon of Birmingham, if she was not
vain of her son. He said, 'she had too much good sense to be vain,
but she knew her son's value.' Her piety was not inferiour to her
understanding; and to her must be ascribed those early impressions
of religion upon the mind of her son, from which the world afterwards
derived so much benefit. He told me, that he remembered distinctly
having had the first notice of Heaven, 'a place to which good people
went,' and hell, 'a place to which bad people went,' communicated to him
by her, when a little child in bed with her; and that it might be the
better fixed in his memory, she sent him to repeat it to Thomas Jackson,
their man-servant; he not being in the way, this was not done; but there
was no occasion for any artificial aid for its preservation.

There is a traditional story of the infant Hercules of toryism,
so curiously characteristick, that I shall not withhold it. It was
communicated to me in a letter from Miss Mary Adye, of Lichfield:

'When Dr. Sacheverel was at Lichfield, Johnson was not quite three years
old. My grandfather Hammond observed him at the cathedral perched upon
his father's shoulders, listening and gaping at the much celebrated
preacher. Mr. Hammond asked Mr. Johnson how he could possibly think of
bringing such an infant to church, and in the midst of so great a crowd.
He answered, because it was impossible to keep him at home; for, young
as he was, he believed he had caught the publick spirit and zeal for
Sacheverel, and would have staid for ever in the church, satisfied with
beholding him.'

Nor can I omit a little instance of that jealous independence of
spirit, and impetuosity of temper, which never forsook him. The fact
was acknowledged to me by himself, upon the authority of his mother. One
day, when the servant who used to be sent to school to conduct him
home, had not come in time, he set out by himself, though he was then so
near-sighted, that he was obliged to stoop down on his hands and knees
to take a view of the kennel before he ventured to step over it. His
school-mistress, afraid that he might miss his way, or fall into the
kennel, or be run over by a cart, followed him at some distance. He
happened to turn about and perceive her. Feeling her careful attention
as an insult to his manliness, he ran back to her in a rage, and beat
her, as well as his strength would permit.

Of the power of his memory, for which he was all his life eminent to a
degree almost incredible, the following early instance was told me in
his presence at Lichfield, in 1776, by his step-daughter, Mrs. Lucy
Porter, as related to her by his mother. When he was a child in
petticoats, and had learnt to read, Mrs. Johnson one morning put the
common prayer-book into his hands, pointed to the collect for the day,
and said, 'Sam, you must get this by heart.' She went up stairs, leaving
him to study it: But by the time she had reached the second floor, she
heard him following her. 'What's the matter?' said she. 'I can say it,'
he replied; and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it
more than twice.

But there has been another story of his infant precocity generally
circulated, and generally believed, the truth of which I am to refute
upon his own authority. It is told, that, when a child of three years
old, he chanced to tread upon a duckling, the eleventh of a brood,
and killed it; upon which, it is said, he dictated to his mother the
following epitaph:

'Here lies good master duck,
Whom Samuel Johnson trod on;
If it had liv'd, it had been GOOD LUCK,
For then we'd had an ODD ONE.'

There is surely internal evidence that this little composition combines
in it, what no child of three years old could produce, without an
extension of its faculties by immediate inspiration; yet Mrs. Lucy
Porter, Dr. Johnson's stepdaughter, positively maintained to me, in his
presence, that there could be no doubt of the truth of this anecdote,
for she had heard it from his mother. So difficult is it to obtain
an authentick relation of facts, and such authority may there be for
errour; for he assured me, that his father made the verses, and wished
to pass them for his child's. He added, 'my father was a foolish old
man; that is to say, foolish in talking of his children.'

Young Johnson had the misfortune to be much afflicted with the
scrophula, or king's evil, which disfigured a countenance naturally well
formed, and hurt his visual nerves so much, that he did not see at all
with one of his eyes, though its appearance was little different from
that of the other. There is amongst his prayers, one inscribed 'When, my
EYE was restored to its use,' which ascertains a defect that many of his
friends knew he had, though I never perceived it. I supposed him to be
only near-sighted; and indeed I must observe, that in no other respect
could I discern any defect in his vision; on the contrary, the force of
his attention and perceptive quickness made him see and distinguish all
manner of objects, whether of nature or of art, with a nicety that is
rarely to be found. When he and I were travelling in the Highlands of
Scotland, and I pointed out to him a mountain which I observed resembled
a cone, he corrected my inaccuracy, by shewing me, that it was indeed
pointed at the top, but that one side of it was larger than the other.
And the ladies with whom he was acquainted agree, that no man was more
nicely and minutely critical in the elegance of female dress. When I
found that he saw the romantick beauties of Islam, in Derbyshire, much
better than I did, I told him that he resembled an able performer upon
a bad instrument. It has been said, that he contracted this grievous
malady from his nurse. His mother yielding to the superstitious notion,
which, it is wonderful to think, prevailed so long in this country, as
to the virtue of the regal touch; a notion, which our kings encouraged,
and to which a man of such inquiry and such judgement as Carte could
give credit; carried him to London, where he was actually touched by
Queen Anne. Mrs. Johnson indeed, as Mr. Hector informed me, acted by the
advice of the celebrated Sir John Floyer, then a physician in Lichfield.
Johnson used to talk of this very frankly; and Mrs. Piozzi has preserved
his very picturesque description of the scene, as it remained upon his
fancy. Being asked if he could remember Queen Anne, 'He had (he said)
a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recollection of a lady in
diamonds, and a long black hood.' This touch, however, was without
any effect. I ventured to say to him, in allusion to the political
principles in which he was educated, and of which he ever retained some
odour, that 'his mother had not carried him far enough; she should have
taken him to ROME.'

He was first taught to read English by Dame Oliver, a widow, who kept
a school for young children in Lichfield. He told me she could read the
black letter, and asked him to borrow for her, from his father, a bible
in that character. When he was going to Oxford, she came to take leave
of him, brought him, in the simplicity of her kindness, a present
of gingerbread, and said, he was the best scholar she ever had. He
delighted in mentioning this early compliment: adding, with a smile,
that 'this was as high a proof of his merit as he could conceive.' His
next instructor in English was a master, whom, when he spoke of him
to me, he familiarly called Tom Brown, who, said he, 'published a
spelling-book, and dedicated it to the UNIVERSE; but, I fear, no copy of
it can now be had.'

He began to learn Latin with Mr. Hawkins, usher, or under-master of
Lichfield school, 'a man (said he) very skilful in his little way.' With
him he continued two years, and then rose to be under the care of Mr.
Hunter, the headmaster, who, according to his account, 'was very severe,
and wrong-headedly severe. He used (said he) to beat us unmercifully;
and he did not distinguish between ignorance and negligence; for he
would beat a boy equally for not knowing a thing, as for neglecting to
know it. He would ask a boy a question; and if he did not answer it,
he would beat him, without considering whether he had an opportunity of
knowing how to answer it. For instance, he would call up a boy and ask
him Latin for a candlestick, which the boy could not expect to be asked.
Now, Sir, if a boy could answer every question, there would be no need
of a master to teach him.'

It is, however, but justice to the memory of Mr. Hunter to mention, that
though he might err in being too severe, the school of Lichfield
was very respectable in his time. The late Dr. Taylor, Prebendary
of Westminster, who was educated under him, told me, that 'he was an
excellent master, and that his ushers were most of them men of eminence;
that Holbrook, one of the most ingenious men, best scholars, and best
preachers of his age, was usher during the greatest part of the time
that Johnson was at school. Then came Hague, of whom as much might be
said, with the addition that he was an elegant poet. Hague was succeeded
by Green, afterwards Bishop of Lincoln, whose character in the learned
world is well known.'

Indeed Johnson was very sensible how much he owed to Mr. Hunter. Mr.
Langton one day asked him how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge
of Latin, in which, I believe, he was exceeded by no man of his time;
he said, 'My master whipt me very well. Without that, Sir, I should have
done nothing.' He told Mr. Langton, that while Hunter was flogging his
boys unmercifully, he used to say, 'And this I do to save you from the
gallows.' Johnson, upon all occasions, expressed his approbation of
enforcing instruction by means of the rod. 'I would rather (said he)
have the rod to be the general terrour to all, to make them learn, than
tell a child, if you do thus, or thus, you will be more esteemed than
your brothers or sisters. The rod produces an effect which terminates
in itself. A child is afraid of being whipped, and gets his task, and
there's an end on't; whereas, by exciting emulation and comparisons
of superiority, you lay the foundation of lasting mischief; you make
brothers and sisters hate each other.'

That superiority over his fellows, which he maintained with so much
dignity in his march through life, was not assumed from vanity
and ostentation, but was the natural and constant effect of those
extraordinary powers of mind, of which he could not but be conscious
by comparison; the intellectual difference, which in other cases of
comparison of characters, is often a matter of undecided contest, being
as clear in his case as the superiority of stature in some men above
others. Johnson did not strut or stand on tiptoe; He only did not stoop.
From his earliest years his superiority was perceived and acknowledged.
He was from the beginning [Greek text omitted], a king of men. His
school-fellow, Mr. Hector, has obligingly furnished me with many
particulars of his boyish days: and assured me that he never knew him
corrected at school, but for talking and diverting other boys from their
business. He seemed to learn by intuition; for though indolence and
procrastination were inherent in his constitution, whenever he made an
exertion he did more than any one else. His favourites used to receive
very liberal assistance from him; and such was the submission and
deference with which he was treated, such the desire to obtain his
regard, that three of the boys, of whom Mr. Hector was sometimes one,
used to come in the morning as his humble attendants, and carry him to
school. One in the middle stooped, while he sat upon his back, and one
on each side supported him; and thus he was borne triumphant. Such
a proof of the early predominance of intellectual vigour is very
remarkable, and does honour to human nature. Talking to me once himself
of his being much distinguished at school, he told me, 'they never
thought to raise me by comparing me to any one; they never said, Johnson
is as good a scholar as such a one; but such a one is as good a scholar
as Johnson; and this was said but of one, but of Lowe; and I do not
think he was as good a scholar.'

He discovered a great ambition to excel, which roused him to counteract
his indolence. He was uncommonly inquisitive; and his memory was so
tenacious, that he never forgot any thing that he either heard or read.
Mr. Hector remembers having recited to him eighteen verses, which, after
a little pause, he repeated verbatim, varying only one epithet, by which
he improved the line.

He never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions: his
only amusement was in winter, when he took a pleasure in being drawn
upon the ice by a boy barefooted, who pulled him along by a garter fixed
round him; no very easy operation, as his size was remarkably large. His
defective sight, indeed, prevented him from enjoying the common sports;
and he once pleasantly remarked to me, 'how wonderfully well he had
contrived to be idle without them.' Mr. Hector relates, that 'he could
not oblige him more than by sauntering away the hours of vacation in the
fields, during which he was more engaged in talking to himself than to
his companion.'

Dr. Percy, the Bishop of Dromore, who was long intimately acquainted
with him, and has preserved a few anecdotes concerning him, regretting
that he was not a more diligent collector, informs me, that 'when a
boy he was immoderately fond of reading romances of chivalry, and he
retained his fondness for them through life; so that (adds his Lordship)
spending part of a summer at my parsonage house in the country, he
chose for his regular reading the old Spanish romance of Felixmarte of
Hircania, in folio, which he read quite through. Yet I have heard him
attribute to these extravagant fictions that unsettled turn of mind
which prevented his ever fixing in any profession.'


1725: AETAT. 16.--After having resided for some time at the house of his
uncle, Cornelius Ford, Johnson was, at the age of fifteen, removed to
the school of Stourbridge, in Worcestershire, of which Mr. Wentworth
was then master. This step was taken by the advice of his cousin, the
Reverend Mr. Ford, a man in whom both talents and good dispositions were
disgraced by licentiousness, but who was a very able judge of what
was right. At this school he did not receive so much benefit as
was expected. It has been said, that he acted in the capacity of an
assistant to Mr. Wentworth, in teaching the younger boys. 'Mr. Wentworth
(he told me) was a very able man, but an idle man, and to me very
severe; but I cannot blame him much. I was then a big boy; he saw I did
not reverence him; and that he should get no honour by me. I had brought
enough with me, to carry me through; and all I should get at his school
would be ascribed to my own labour, or to my former master. Yet he
taught me a great deal.'

He thus discriminated, to Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, his progress
at his two grammar-schools. 'At one, I learnt much in the school, but
little from the master; in the other, I learnt much from the master, but
little in the school.'

He remained at Stourbridge little more than a year, and then returned
home, where he may be said to have loitered, for two years, in a state
very unworthy his uncommon abilities. He had already given several
proofs of his poetical genius, both in his school-exercises and in other
occasional compositions.

He had no settled plan of life, nor looked forward at all, but merely
lived from day to day. Yet he read a great deal in a desultory manner,
without any scheme of study, as chance threw books in his way, and
inclination directed him through them. He used to mention one curious
instance of his casual reading, when but a boy. Having imagined that his
brother had hid some apples behind a large folio upon an upper shelf
in his father's shop, he climbed up to search for them. There were no
apples; but the large folio proved to be Petrarch, whom he had seen
mentioned in some preface, as one of the restorers of learning. His
curiosity having been thus excited, he sat down with avidity, and read a
great part of the book. What he read during these two years he told
me, was not works of mere amusement, 'not voyages and travels, but
all literature, Sir, all ancient writers, all manly: though but little
Greek, only some of Anacreon and Hesiod; but in this irregular manner
(added he) I had looked into a great many books, which were not commonly
known at the Universities, where they seldom read any books but what are
put into their hands by their tutors; so that when I came to Oxford, Dr.
Adams, now master of Pembroke College, told me I was the best qualified
for the University that he had ever known come there.'

That a man in Mr. Michael Johnson's circumstances should think of
sending his son to the expensive University of Oxford, at his own
charge, seems very improbable. The subject was too delicate to question
Johnson upon. But I have been assured by Dr. Taylor that the scheme
never would have taken place had not a gentleman of Shropshire, one of
his schoolfellows, spontaneously undertaken to support him at Oxford, in
the character of his companion; though, in fact, he never received any
assistance whatever from that gentleman.