of Dromore; Dr. Barnard, Bishop of Killaloe; Dr. Marlay, Bishop of Clonfert; Mr. Fox, Dr. George Fordyce, Sir William Scott, Sir Joseph Banks, Sir Charles Bunbury, Mr. Windham, of Norfolk; Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Gibbon, Sir William Jones, Mr. Colman, Mr. Steevens, Dr. Burney, Dr. Joseph Warton, Mr. Malone, Lord Ossory, Lord Spencer, Lord Lucan, Lord Palmerston, Lord Eliot, Lord Macartney, Mr. Richard Burke, junior, Sir William Hamilton, Dr. Warren, Mr. Courtenay, Dr. Hinchliffe, Bishop of Peterborough; the Duke of Leeds, Dr. Douglas, Bishop of Salisbury; and the writer of this account.

1

Sir John Hawkins represents himself as a "seceder" from this society, and assigns as the reason of his “withdrawing" himself from it, that its late hours were inconsistent with his domestic arrangements. In this he is not accurate; for the fact was, that he one evening attacked Mr. Burke in so rude a manner, that all the company testified their displeasure; and at their next meeting their reception was such that he never came again.2

He is equally inaccurate with respect to Mr. Garrick, of whom he says, "he trusted that the least intimation of a desire to come among us, would procure him a ready admission; but in this he was mistaken. Johnson consulted me upon it; and when I could find no objection to receiving him, exclaimed, He will disturb us by his buffoonery;' and afterwards so managed matters, that he was never formally proposed, and, by consequence, nevei admitted."

In justice both to Mr. Garrick and Dr. Johnson, I think it necessary to rectify this mis-statement. The truth is, that not very long after the institution of our club, Sir Joshua Reynolds was speaking of it to Garrick. "I like it much," said he; "I think I shall be of you." When Sir

1 Life of Johnson, p. 425 (note). 2 From Sir Joshua Reynolds.

The knight having refused to pay his portion of the reckoning for supper, because he usually ate no supper at home, Johnson observed, "Sir John, Sir, is a very unclubable man."-Burney.

Hawkins was not knighted till October, 1772, long after he had left the club. Burney, in relating the story, puts the nunc pro tunc.— Croker.

3 Life of Johnson, p. 425.

Joshua mentioned this to Dr. Johnson, he was much displeased with the actor's conceit. He'll be of us," said Johnson, "how does he know we will permit him? the first duke in England has no right to hold such language." 1 However, when Garrick was regularly proposed some time afterwards, Johnson, though he had taken a momentary offence at his arrogance, warmly and kindly supported him, and he was accordingly elected,2 was a most agreeable member, and continued to attend our meetings to the time of his death.

Mrs. Piozzi has also given a similar misrepresentation of Johnson's treatment of Garrick in this particular, as if he had used these contemptuous expressions: "If Garrick does apply, I'll blackball him.-Surely, one ought to sit in a society like ours,

'Unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player.'"

I am happy to be enabled by such unquestionable authority as that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, as well as from my own knowledge, to vindicate at once the heart of Johnson and the social merit of Garrick.

In this year, except what he may have done in revising Shakspeare, we do not find that he laboured much in literature. He wrote a review of Grainger's "Sugar Cane," a poem, in the “ London Chronicle." He told me that Dr. Percy wrote the greatest part of this review; but, I

Malone says: "I mentioned this anecdote to Mr. Boswell, and he has introduced it into his Life of Johnson." (Maloniana.)-Prior's Life of Malone, 1860.-Editor.

2 Mr. Garrick was elected in March, 1773.-Note in Third Edition, vol. i., p. 436.-Editor.

3 Letters to and from Dr. Johnson, vol. ii., p. 387. The anecdote as given in the passage only partially quoted by Boswell, seems to exonerate Mrs. Piozzi from deliberate misrepresentation, and also exhibits Johnson's conduct in a more amiable light. "When Garrick was talked of as a candidate for admission into the Literary Club- If he does apply,' says our Doctor to Mr. Thrale, ‘I'll blackball him.' 6 Who, Sir? Mr. Garrick, your friend, your companionblack-ball him!' 'Why, Sir, I love my little David dearly, better than all or any of his flatterers do; but surely one ought to sit in a society like ours,

-Editor.

"Unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player.""

imagine, he did not recollect it distinctly, for it appears to be mostly, if not altogether, his own. He also wrote, in the "Critical Review," an account † of Goldsmith's excellent poem, The Traveller."

66

The ease and independence to which he had at last attained by royal munificence, increased his natural indolence. In his " Meditations," [p. 53] he thus accuses himself::

"GOOD FRIDAY, April 20, 1764.—I have made no reformation; I have lived totally useless, more sensual in thought, and more addicted to wine and meat."

And next morning he thus feelingly complains :

"My indolence, since my last reception of the sacrament, has sunk into grosser sluggishness, and my dissipation spread into wilder negligence. My thoughts have been clouded with sensuality; and, except that from the beginning of this year I have, in some measure, foreborne excess of strong drink, my appetites have predominated over my reason. A kind of strange oblivion has overspread me, so that I know not what has become of the last year; and perceive that incidents and intelligence pass over me without leaving any impression."

He then solemnly says, "This is not the life to which heaven is promised;" and he earnestly resolves an amend

ment.

It was his custom to observe certain days with a pious abstraction: viz., New Year's Day, the day of his wife's death, Good Friday, Easter Day, and his own birthday. He this year says,

"I have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time almost that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I have done nothing. The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of doing is short. O God, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my resolutions, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen."

Such a tenderness of conscience, such a fervent desire of

improvement, will rarely be found. It is, surely, not

decent in those who are hardened in indifference to spiritual improvement, to treat this pious anxiety of Johnson with contempt.

About this time he was afflicted with a very severe return of the hypochondriac disorder, which was ever lurking about him. He was so ill, as, notwithstanding his remarkable love of company, to be entirely averse_to society, the most fatal symptom of that malady. Dr. Adams told me, that, as an old friend, he was admitted to visit him, and that he found him in a deplorable state, sighing, groaning, talking to himself, and restlessly walking from room to room. He then used this emphatical expression of the misery which he felt: "I would consent to have a limb amputated to recover my spirits."

Talking to himself was, indeed, one of his singularities ever since I knew him. I was certain that he was frequently uttering pious ejaculations; for fragments of the Lord's Prayer have been distinctly overheard. His friend, Mr. Thomas Davies, of whom Churchill says,

when Dr. Johnson muttered "lead us not into temptation" -used with waggish and gallant humour to whisper Mrs. Davies, "You, my dear, are the cause of this.”

He had another particularity, of which none of his friends ever ventured to ask an explanation. It appeared to me some superstitious habit, which he had contracted early, and from which he had never called upon his reason

1 It used to be imagined at Mr. Thrale's, when Johnson retired to a window or corner of the room, by perceiving his lips in motion, and hearing a murmur without audible articulation, that he was praying; but this was not always the case, for I was once, perhaps unperceived by him, writing at a table, so near the place of his retreat, that I heard him repeating some lines in an ode of Horace, over and over again, as if by iteration to exercise the organs of speech, and fix the ode in his memory:

to disentangle him. This was his anxious care to go out or in at a door or passage, by a certain number of steps from a certain point, or at least so as that either his right or his left foot (I am not certain which) should constantly make the first actual movement when he came close to the

;

door or passage. Thus I conjecture: for I have, upon innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps with a deep earnestness and when he had neglected or gone wrong in this sort of magical movement, I have seen him go back again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and, having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, and join his companion. A strange instance of something of this nature, even when on horseback, happened when he was in the Isle of Sky.' Sir Joshua

Reynolds has observed him to go a good way about, rather than cross a particular alley in Leicester Fields; but this Sir Joshua imputed to his having had some disagreeable recollection associated with it.2

1 Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, 3rd edit., p. 316.

2 His conduct at Mr. Bankes's, see antè, p. 108, seems something of the same kind. Dr. Fisher, Master of the Charter House, told me, that in walking on the quadrangle of University College, he would not step on the juncture of the stones, but carefully on the centre: but this is a trick which many persons have when sauntering on any kind of tessellation. Dr. Fisher adds, that he would sometimes take a phial to the college pump, and alternately fill and empty it, without any object that Dr. Fisher could discern. "Mr. Sheridan," says Mr. Whyte," at one time lived in Bedford Street, opposite Henrietta Street, which ranges with the south side of Covent Garden, so that the prospect lies open the whole way, free of interruption. We were standing together at the drawing-room window, expecting Johnson, who was to dine there. Mr. Sheridan asked me, could I see the length of the Garden? No, Sir.' [Mr. Whyte was short-sighted.] Take out your opera-glass, Johnson is coming; you may know him by his gait. I perceived him at a good distance, working along with a peculiar solemnity of deportment, and an awkward sort of measured step. At that time the broad flagging at each side the streets was not universally adopted, and stone posts were in fashion, to prevent the annoyance of carriages. Upon every post, as he passed along, I could observe, he deliberately laid his hand; but missing one of them when he had got at some distance, he seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and immediately returning back, carefully performed the accustomed ceremony, and resumed his former course, not omitting one till he gained the crossing. This, Mr. Sheridan assured me, however odd it might appear, was his constant practice; but