surprised to hear you say so; they spring from | me, that peace and good-will towards man were two different sources, and are distinct perceptions: the natural emanations of his heart. one respects this world, the other the next.' Α LADY. I think, however, that a person who has got rid of shame is in a fair way to get rid of conscience.' JOHNSON. Yes, 'tis a part of the way, I grant; but there are degrees at which men stop, some for the fear of men, soine for the fear of God: shame arises from the fear of men, conscience from the fear of God.' "Dr. Johnson seemed to delight in drawing characters; and when he did so con amore, delighted every one that heard him. Indeed I cannot say I ever heard him draw any con odio, though he professed himself to be, or at least to love, a good hater. But I have remarked that his dislike of any one seldom prompted him to say much more than that the fellow is a blockhead, a poor creature, or some such epithet. "I shall never forget the exalted character he drew of his friend Mr. Langton, nor with what energy, what fond delight, he expatiated in his praise, giving him every excellence that nature could bestow, and every perfection that humanity could acquire1. A literary lady was present, Miss H. More, who perhaps inspired him with an unusual ardour to shine, which indeed he did with redoubled lustre, deserving himself the praises he bestowed: not but I have often heard him speak in terms equally high of Mr. Langton, though more concisely expressed. "This brings to my remembrance the unparalleled eulogium which the late Lord Bath made on a lady he was intimately acquainted with, in speaking of her to Sir Joshua Reynolds. His lordship said that he did not believe that there ever was a more perfect human being created, or ever would be created, than Mrs. Montagu. I give the very words I heard from Sir Joshua's mouth; from whom also I heard that he repeated them to Mr. Burke-observing that Lord Bath could not have said more, And I do not think that he said too much,' was Mr. Burke's reply. I have also heard Dr. Johnson speak of this lady in terms of high admiration. [Ante, p. 66.] "On the praises of Mrs. Thrale he used to dwell with a peculiar delight, a paternal fondness, expressive of conscious exultation in being so intimately acquainted with her. One day, in speaking of her to Mr. Harris, authour of Hermes, and expatiating on her various perfections,-the solidity of her virtues, the brilliancy of her wit, and the strength of her understanding, &c.-he quoted some lines (a stanza I believe, but from what authour I know not), with which he concluded his most eloquent eulogium, and of these I retained but the two last lines 2: "Virtues of such a generous kind, Good in the last recesses of the mind.' "It will doubtless appear highly paradoxical to the generality of the world to say, that few men, in his ordinary disposition, or common frame of mind, could be more inoffensive than Dr. Johnson; yet surely those who knew his uniform benevolence, and its actuating principles-steady virtue, and true holiness-will readily agree with 1 [See ante, pp. 141 and 379.-ED.] 2 Being so particularly engaged as not to be able to attend to them sufficiently.-MISS REYNOLDS. "When travelling with a lady in Devonshire, in a post-chaise, near the churchyard of Wear, near Torrington, in which she saw the verdant monument of maternal affection described in the Melancholy Tale, and heard the particular circumstances relating to the subject of it; and as she was relating them to Dr. Johnson, she heard him heave heavy sighs and sobs, and turning round she saw his dear face bathed in tears! A circumstance he had probably forgotten when he wrote at the end of the manuscript poem with his correcting pen in red ink, I know not when I have been so much affected. "I believe no one has described his extraordinary gestures or anticks with his hands and feet, particularly when passing over the threshold of a door, or rather before he would venture to pass through any doorway. On entering Sir Joshua's house with poor Mrs. Williams, a blind lady who lived with him, he would quit her hand, or else whirl her about on the steps as he whirled and twisted about to perform his gesticulations; and as soon as he had finished, he would give a sudden spring, and make such an extensive stride over the threshold, as if he was trying for a wager how far he could stride, Mrs. Williams standing groping about outside the door, unless the servant took hold of her hand to conduct her in, leaving Dr. Johnson to perform at the parlour door much the same exercise over again. "But it was not only at the entrance of a door that he exhibited such strange manœuvres, but across a room or in the street with company, he has stopped on a sudden, as if he had recollected his task, and began to perform it there, gathering a mob round him; and when he had finished would hasten to his companion (who probably had walked on before) with an air of great satisfaction that he had done his duty! “One Sunday morning, as I was walking with him in Twickenham meadows, he began his anticks both with his feet and hands, with the latter as if he was holding the reins of a horse like a jockey on full speed. But to describe the strange positions of his feet is a difficult task; sometimes he would make the back part of his heels to touch, sometimes his toes, as if he was aiming at making the form of a triangle, at least the two sides of one. Though, indeed, whether these were his gestures on this particular occasion in Twickenham meadows I do not recollect, it is so long since; but I well remember that they were so extraordinary that men, women, and children gathered round him, laughing. At last we sat down on some logs of wood by the river side, and they nearly dispersed; when he pulled out of his pocketGrotius de Veritate Religionis,' over which he seesawed at such a violent rate as to excite the curiosity of some people at a distance to come and see what was the matter with him. 3 [Miss Reynolds herself; and the Melancholy Tale event, whatever it was.-ED.) was probably a poem which he had written on this 4 [Mr. Boswell frequently (vol. i. pp. 56 and 325) and Mr. Whyte (ante, vol. i. pp. 215 and 510), have described his gestures very strikingly, though not quite în so much detail as Miss Reynolds. Mr. Boswell's descriptions she must have seen.-ED.] "Ile always carried a religious treatise in his pocket on a Sunday, and he used to encourage me to relate to him the particular parts of Scripture I did not understand, and to write them down as they occurred to me in reading the Bible. "As we were returning from the meadows that day, I remember we net Sir John Hawkins, whom Dr. Johnson seemed much rejoiced to see; and no wonder, for I have often heard him speak of Sir John in terms expressive of great esteem and much cordiality of friendship. On his asking Dr. Johnson when he had seen Dr. Hawkesworth, he roared out with great vehemency, Hawkesworth is grown a coxcomb, and I have done with him.' We drank tea that afternoon at Sir J. Hawkins's, and on our return I was surprised to hear Dr. Johnson's minute criticism on Lady Hawkins's dress, with every part of which almost he found fault. [Ante, p. 69.] origin to his strict, his rigid principles of religion and virtue; and the shadowy parts of his character, his rough, unaccommodating manners, were in general to be ascribed to those corporeal defects that I have already observed naturally tended to darken his perceptions of what may be called propriety and impropriety in general conversation; and of course in the ceremonious or artificial sphere of society gave his deportment so contrasting an aspect to the apparent softness and general uniformity of cultivated manners. "And perhaps the joint influence of these two primeval causes, his intellectual excellence and his corporeal defects, mutually contributed to give his manners a greater degree of harshness than they would have had if only under the influence of one of them, the imperfect perceptions of the one not unfrequently producing misconceptions in the other. "Besides these, many other equally natural causes concurred to constitute the singularity of Dr. Johnson's character. Doubtless the progress of his education had a double tendency to brighten and to obscure it. But I must observe, that this obscurity (implying only his awkward uncouth "Few people (I have heard him say) understood the art of carving better than himself; but that it would be highly indecorous in him to attempt it in company, being so nearsighted, that it required a suspension of his breath, during the operation. "It must be owned indeed that it was to be re-appearance, his ignorance of the rules of politegretted that he did not practise a little of that delicacy in eating, for he appeared to want breath more at that time than usual. "It is certain that he did not appear to the best advantage at the hour of repast; but of this he was perfectly unconscious, owing probably to his being totally ignorant of the characteristic expressions of the human countenance, and therefore he could have no conception that his own expressed when most pleased any thing displeasing to others; for, though, when particularly directing his attention towards any object to spy out defects or perfections, he generally succeeded better than most men; partly, perhaps, from a desire to excite admiration of his perspicacity, of which he was not a little anıbitious-yet I have heard him say, and I have often perceived, that he could not distinguish any man's face half a yard distant from him, not even his most intimate acquaintance.. [Ante, pp. 187, and 286.] Though it cannot be said that he was in manners gentle, yet it justly can that he was in affections mild, benevolent, and compassionate; and to this combination of character may I believe be ascribed in a great measure his extraordinary celebrity; his being beheld as a phenomenon or wonder of the age! "And yet Dr. Johnson's character, singular as it certainly was from the contrast of his mental endowments with the roughness of his manners, was, I believe, perfectly natural and consistent throughout; and to those who were intimately. acquainted with him must I imagine have appeared so. For being totally devoid of all deceit, free from every tinge of affectation or ostentation, and unwarped by any vice, his singularities, those strong lights and shades that so peculiarly distinguish his character, may the more easily be traced to their primary and natural causes. "The luminous parts of his character, his soft affections, and I should suppose his strong intellectual powers, at least the dignified charm or radiancy of them, must be allowed to owe their 63 VOL. II. ness, &c.) would have gradually disappeared at a more advanced period, at least could have had no manner of influence to the prejudice of Dr. Johnson's character, had it not been associated with those corporeal defects above mentioned. But unhappily his untaught, uncivilized manner seemed to render every little indecorum or impropriety that he committed doubly indecorous and improper.' II. MISCELLANEOUS ANECDOTES OF DR. JOHNSON. [The Editor is well aware of the general inaccuracy of what are called anecdotes, and has accordingly admitted very few additions of that kind to either the text or notes of this work; but there are several anecdotes current in literature and society, which the reader may not be sorry to see in this place. Some of them stand on the authority of the relater; some are confirmed by, or confirmatory of anecdotes already told; others again require to be noticed ever for explanation or correction; and all may be considered as fairly coming within the scope of a work the peculiar object of which is to collect into one view all that can elucidate the biography of Dr. Johnson.]—ED. SOME ACCOUNT OF DR. JOHNSON. FROM MR. CUMBERLAND'S MEMOIRS. "Who will say that Johnson would have been such a champion in literature-such a front-rank soldier in the fields of fame, if he had not been pressed into the service, and driven on to glory with the bayonet of sharp necessity pointed at his back? If fortune had turned him into a field of clover, he would have laid down and rolled in it. The mere manual labour of writing would not have allowed his lassitude and love of ease to have taken the pen out of the inkhorn, unless the cravings of hunger had reminded him that he must fill the sheet before he saw the table-cloth. He might indeed have knocked down Osburne for a blockhead, but he would not have knocked him down with a folio of his own writing. He would perhaps have been the dictator of a club, and wherever he sat down to conversation, there must have been that splash of strong bold thought about him, that we might still have had a collectanea after his death; but of prose I guess not much, of works of labour none, of fancy perhaps something more, especially of poetry, which under favour I conceive was not his tower of strength. I think we should have had his Rasselas at all events, for he was likely enough to have written at Voltaire, and brought the question to the test, if infidelity is any aid to wit. An orator he must have been; not improbably a parliamentarian, and, if such, certainly an oppositionist, for he preferred to talk against the tide. He would indubitably have been no member of the Whig Club, no partisan of Wilkes, no friend of Hume, no believer in Macpherson; he would have put up prayers for early rising, and laid in bed all day, and with the most active resolutions possible been the most indolent mortal living. He was a good man by nature, a great man by genius; we are now to inquire what he was by compulsion. "Johnson's first style was naturally energetic, his middle style was turgid to a fault, his latter style was softened down and harmonized into periods, more tuneful and more intelligible. His execution was rapid, yet his mind was not easily provoked into exertion; the variety we find in his writings was not the variety of choice arising from the impulse of his proper genius, but tasks imposed upon him by the dealers in ink, and contracts on his part submitted to in satisfaction of the pressing calls of hungry want; for, painful as it is to relate, I have heard that illustrious scholar assert (and he never varied from the truth of fact) that he subsisted himself for a considerable space of time upon the scanty pittance of fourpence halfpenny per day. Alas! I am not fit to paint his character; nor is there need of it; Etiam mortuus loquitur: every man, who can buy a book, has bought a BosWELL: Johnson is known to all the reading wd. I also knew him well, respected him highly, loved him sincerely it was never my chance to see him in those moments of moroseness and ill-humour which are imputed to him, perhaps with truth, for who would slander him? But I am not warranted by any experience of those humours to speak of him otherwise than of a friend, who always met me with kindness, and from whom I never separated without regret. When I sought his company he had no capricious excuses for withholding it, but lent himself to every invitation with cordiality, and brought good-humour with him, that gave life to the circle he was in. bob wig, was the style of his wardrobe, but they were in perfectly good trim, and with the ladies, which he generally met, he had nothing of the slovenly philosopher about him; he fed heartily, but not voraciously, and was extremely courteous in his commendations of any dish that pleased his palate; he suffered his next neighbour to squeeze the China oranges into his wine-glass after dinner, which else perchance had gone aside and trickled into his shoes, for the good man had neither straight sight nor steady nerves. "At the tea-table he had considerable demands upon his favourite beverage, and I remember when Sir Joshua Reynolds at my house reminded him that he had drank eleven cups, he replied, Sir, L did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?' And then laughing, in perfect good-humour he added, Sir, I should have released the lady from any further trouble if it had not been for your remark; but you have reminded me that I want one of the dozen, and I must request Mrs. Cumberland to round up my number," When he saw the readiness and complacency with which my wife obeyed his call, he turned a kind and cheerful look upon her, and said, Madam, I must tell you for your comfort, you have escaped much better than a certain lady did awhile ago, upon whose patience I intruded greatly more than I have done on yours; but the lady asked me for no other purpose than to make a zany of me, and set me gabbling to a parcel of people I knew nothing of; so, madam, I had my revenge of her; for I swallowed five-and-twenty cups of her tea, and did not treat her with as many words.' I can only say my wife would have made tea for him as long as the New River could have supplied her with water. 6 "It was on such occasions he was to be seen in his happiest moments, when animated by the cheering attention of friends whom he liked, he would give full scope to those talents for narration in which I verily think he was unrivalled both in the brilliancy of his wit, the flow of his humour, and the energy of his language. Anecdotes of times past, scenes of his own life, and characters of humourists, enthusisasts, crack-brained projectors, and a variety of strange beings that he had chanced upon, when detailed by him at length, and garnished with those episodical remarks, sometimes comic, sometimes grave, which he would throw in with infinite fertility of fancy, were a treat, which though not always to be purchased by five-and-twenty cups of tea, I have often had the happiness to enjoy for less than half the number. "He was easily led into topics; it was not easy to turn him from them; but who would wish it? If a man wanted to show himself off by getting up and riding upon him, he was sure to run restive and kiek him off; you might as safely have backed Bucephalus, before Alexander had lunged him. Neither did he always like to be over-fondled: when a certain gentleman outacted his part in this way, he is said to have de manded of him, 'What provokes your risibility, sir? Have I said any thing that you understand ? Then I ask pardon of the rest of the company.' But this is Henderson's anecdote of him, and I won't swear he did not make it himself. The | "But I don't relish these sayings, and I am to blame for retailing them: we can no more judge of men by these droppings from their lips, than we can guess at the contents of the river Nile by a pitcher of its water. If we were to estimate the wise men of Greece by Laertius's scraps of their sayings, what a parcel of old women should we account them to have been ! "When Mr. Colman, then manager of Coventgarden theatre, protested against Goldsmith's last comedy, when as yet he had not struck upon a name for it, Johnson stood forth in all his terrors as champion for the piece, and backed by us, his clients and retainers, demanded a fair trial. Colman again protested; but, with that salvo for his own reputation, liberally lent his stage to one of the most eccentric productions that ever found its way to it, and She Stoops to Conquer was put into rehearsal. "We were not over-sanguine of success, but perfectly determined to struggle hard for our authour: we accordingly assembled our strength at the Shakspeare Tavern in a considerable body for an early dinner, where Samuel Johnson took the chair at the head of a long table, and was the life and soul of the corps: the poet took post silently by his side, with the Burkes, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Fitzherbert', Caleb Whitefoord, and a phalanx of North-British pre-determined applauders, under the banner of Major Mills, all good men and true. Our illustrious friend was in inimitable glee, and poor Goldsmith that day took all his raillery as patiently and complacently as my friend Boswell would have done any day, or every day of his life. In the mean time we did not forget our duty, and though we had a better comedy going on, in which Johnson was chief actor, we betook ourselves in good time to our separate and allotted posts, and waited the awful drawing up of the curtain. As our stations were pre-concerted, so were our signals for plaudits arranged and determined upon in a manner that gave every one his cue where to look for them, and how to follow them up. 7 "We had amongst us a very worthy and efficient member, long since lost to his friends and the world at large, Adam Drummond, of amiable memory, who was gifted by nature with the most sonorous, and at the same time the most contagious laugh, that ever echoed from the human lungs. The neighing of the horse of the son of Hystaspes was a whisper to it; the whole thunder of the theatre could not drown it. This kind and ingenuous friend fairly forewarned us that he knew no more when to give his fire than the cannon did that was planted on a battery. He desired therefore to have a flapper at his elbow, and I 1 [A mistake. "She Stoops to Conquer" was played on Monday the 15th March, 1773. Mr. Fitzherbert died early in 1772.-ED.] had the honour to be deputed to that office. I planted him in an upper box, pretty nearly over the stage, in full view of the pit and galleries, and perfectly well situated to give the echo all its play through the hollows and recesses of the theatre. The success of our manœuvres was complete. All eyes were upon Johnson, who sate in the front row of a side box, and when he laughed, every body thought themselves warranted to roar. In the mean time my friend Drummond followed signals with a rattle so irresistibly comic, that, when he had repeated it several times, the attention of the spectators was so engrossed by his person and performances, that the progress of the play seemed likely to become a secondary object, and I found it prudent to insinuate to him that he might halt his music without any prejudice to the authour; but, alas! it was now too late to rein him in; he had laughed upon my signal where he found no joke, and now unluckily he fancied that he found a joke in almost every thing that was said; so that nothing in nature could be more mal-a-propos than some of his bursts every now and then were. These were dangerous moments, for the pit began to take umbrage; but we carried our play through, and triumphed not only over Colman's judgment, but our own. "I have heard Dr. Johnson relate with infinite humour the circumstance of his rescuing Goldsmith from a ridiculous dilemma by the purchasemoney of his Vicar of Wakefield, which he sold on his behalf to Dodsley, and, as I think, for the sum of ten pounds only 2. He had run up a debt with his landlady for board and lodging of some few pounds, and was at his wits' end how to wipe off the score and keep a roof over his head, except by closing with a very staggering proposal on her part, and taking his creditor to wife, whose charms were very far from alluring, whilst her demands were extremely urgent. In this crisis of his fate he was found by Johnson in the act of meditating on the melancholy alternative before him. He showed Johnson his manuscript of The Vicar of Wakefield, but seemed to be without any plan, or even hope, of raising money upon the disposal of it: when Johnson cast his eye upon it, he discovered something that gave him hope, and immediately took it to Dodsley, who paid down the price above mentioned in ready money, and added an eventual condition upon its Johnson described the precautions future sale. he took in concealing the amount of the sum he had in hand, which he prudently administered to him by a guinea at a time. In the event he paid off the landlady's score, and redeemed the person of his friend from her embraces. Goldsmith had the joy of finding his ingenious work succeed beyond his hopes, and from that time began to place a confidence in the resources of his talents, which thenceforward enabled him to keep his station in society, and cultivate the friendship of many eminent persons, who, whilst they smiled at his eccentricities, esteemed him for his genius and good qualities. 2 [Another mistake. See ante, vol. i. p. 187. But it would really seem as if Dr. Johnson himself sometimes varied in telling this story, for Hawkins, Mrs. Piozzi, Cumberland and Boswell, all have different versions. The least credible seems to be Cumberland's.-ED.] pious; yet in his Rasselas we have much to admire, and enough to make us wish for more. It is the work of an illuminated mind, and offers many harmonious diction. We are not indeed familiar with such personages as Johnson had imagined for the characters of his fable, but if we are not exceedingly interested in their story, we are infinitely gratified with their conversation and remarks. In conclusion, Johnson's era was not wanting in men to be distinguished for their talents, yet if one was to be selected out as the first great literary character of the time, I believe all voices would concur in naming him. Let me here insert the following lines, descriptive of his character, though not long since written by me, and to be found in a public print: "Garrick was followed to the Abbey by a long extended train of friends, illustrious for their rank and genius. I saw old Samuel Johnson standing beside his grave, at the foot of Shaks-wise and deep reflections, clothed in beautiful and peare's monument, and bathed in tears. A few succeeding years laid him in earth; and though the marble shall preserve for ages the exact resemblance of his form and features, his own strong pen has pictured out a transcript of his mind, that shal outlive that and the very language which he laboured to perpetuate. Johnson's best days were dark; and only when his life was far in the decline, he enjoyed a gleam of fortune long withheld, Compare him with his countryman and contemporary last mentioned, and it will be one instance among many, that the man who only brings the muse's bantlings into the world has a better lot in it than he who has the credit of begetting them. "Shortly after Garrick's death, Dr. Johnson was told in a large company, You are recent from your Lives of the Poets: why not add your friend Garrick to the number?' Johnson's answer was, I do not like to be officious; but if Mrs. Garrick will desire me to do it, I shall be very willing to pay that last tribute to the memory of the man I loved.' This sentiment was conveyed to Mrs. G. but no answer was ever received. "The expanse of matter which Johnson had found room for in his intellectual storehouse, the correctness with which he had assorted it, and the readiness with which he could turn to any article that he wanted to make present use of, were the properties in him which I contemplated with the most admiration. Some have called him a savage; they were only so far right in the resemblance, as that, like the savage, he never came into suspicious company without his spear in his hand and his bow and quiver at his back. *】 "As a poet, his translations of Juvenal gave him a name in the world, and gained him the applause of Pope. He was a writer of tragedy, but his Irene gives him no conspicuous rank in that department. As an essayist he merits more consideration his Ramblers are in every body's hands; about them opinions vary, and I rather believe the style of these essays is not now considered as a good model; this he corrected in his more advanced age, as may be seen in his Lives of the Poets, where his diction, though occasionally elaborate and highly metaphorical, is not nearly so inflated and ponderous as in the Ramblers. He was an acute and able critic; the enthusiastic admirers of Milton and the friends of Gray will have something to complain of, but criticism is a task which no man executes to all men's satisfaction. His selection of a certain passage in the Mourning Bride of Congreve, which he extols so rapturously, is certainly a most unfortunate sample; but unless the oversights of a critic are less pardonable than those of other men, we may pass this over in a work of merit, which abounds in beauties far more prominent than its defects, and much more pleasing to contemplate. In works professedly of fancy he is not very co 1 [Here followed the passage introduced ante, p. 429, -ED.) "ON SAMUEL JOHNSON "Herculean strength and a Stentorian voice, Lord Chedworth, in his Letters to the "When I was last in town I dined in company with the eminent Mr. C. of whom I did not form a high opinion. He asserted that Dr. Johnson originally intended to abuse Paradise Lost, but being informed that the nation would not bear it, he produced the critique which now stands in the Life of Milton, and which he admitted to be excellent. I contended that Dr. Johnson had there expressed his real opinion, which no man was less afraid of delivering than Dr. Johnson, that the critique was written con amore, and that the work was praised with such a glow of fondness, and the grounds of that praise were so fully and satisfactorily unfolded, that it was impossible Dr. Johnson should not have felt the value of the work, which he had so liberally and rationally commended. It came out afterwards that Dr. Johnson had disgusted Mr. C[oxe]. He had supped at Thrale's one night, when he sat near the upper end of the table, and Dr. Johnson near the lower end; and having related a long story which had very much delighted the company, in the pleasure resulting from which relation Dr. Johnson had not (from his deafness and the distance at which he sat) participated, Mrs. Thrale desired him to retell it to the Doctor. C[oxe] complied, and going down to the bottom of the table, bawled it over again in Dr. Johnson's ear: when he had finished, Johnson replied, So, sir, and this you relate as a good thing: at which G[oxe] fired. He added to us, Now it was a good thing, because it was about the King of Po 2 [Mr. Crompton informs the Editor, that this was the Rev. William Coxe, who had recently published his travels.-ED.] |