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the story to Mrs. Thrale. A friend, from whom I had the story, was present; and it was not at the house of a nobleman. On the observation being made by the master of the house on a gentleman's contradicting Johnson, that he had talked for the honour, etc., the gentleman muttered, in a low voice, "I see no honour in it;" and Dr. Johnson said nothing; so all the rest (though bien trouvée) is mere garnish.'

I have had occasion several times, in the course of this work, to point out the incorrectness of Mrs. Thrale, as to particulars which consisted with my own knowledge. But indeed she has, in flippant terms enough, expressed her disapprobation of that anxious desire of authenticity which prompts a person, who is to record conversations, to write them down at the moment. Unquestionably, if they are to be recorded at all, the sooner it is done the better. This lady herself says:

'To recollect, however, and to repeat the sayings of Dr. Johnson, is almost all that can be done by the writers of his Life; as his life, at least since my acquaintance with him, consisted in little else than talking, when he was not employed in some serious piece of work.'

She boasts of her having kept a commonplace book; and we find she noted, at one time or other, in a very lively manner, specimens of the conversation of Dr. Johnson, and of those who talked with him; but had she done it recently, they probably would have been less erroneous; and we should have been relieved from those disagreeable doubts of their authenticity, with which we must now peruse them.

She says of him:

'He was the most charitable of mortals, without being what we call an active friend. Admirable at giving counsel, no man saw his way so clearly; but he would not stir a finger for the assistance of those to whom he was willing enough to give advice.'

And again, on the same page :

'If you wanted a slight favour, you must apply to people of other dispositions; for not a step would Johnson move to obtain a man a vote in a society, to repay a compliment which might be useful or pleasing, to write a letter of request, etc., or to obtain a hundred pounds a year more for a friend who perhaps had already two or three. No force could urge him to diligence, no importunity could conquer his resolution to stand still.'

It is amazing that one who had such opportunities of knowing Dr. Johnson, should appear so little acquainted with his real character. I am sorry this lady does not advert, that she herself contradicts the assertion of his being obstinately defective in the petites morales, in the little endearing charities of social life, in conferring smaller favours; for she says:

'Dr. Johnson was liberal enough in granting literary assistance to others, I think; and

innumerable are the prefaces, sermons, lectures, and dedications which he used to make for people who begged of him.'

I am certain that a more active friend has rarely been found in any age. This work, which I fondly hope will rescue his memory from obloquy, contains a thousand instances of his benevolent exertions in almost every way that can be conceived; and particularly in employing his pen with a generous readiness for those to whom its aid could be useful. Indeed, his obliging activity in doing little offices of kindness, both by letters and personal application, was one of the most remarkable features in his character; and for the truth of this I can appeal to a number of his respectable friends,— Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Burke, Mr. Windham, Mr. Malone, the Bishop of Dromore, Sir William Scott, Sir Robert Chambers.-And can Mrs. Thrale forget the advertisements which he wrote for her husband at the time of his election contest; the epitaphs on him and her mother; the playful and even trifling verses, for the amusement of her and her daughters; his corresponding with her children, and entering into their minute concerns, which shows him in the most amiable light?

She relates that→

'Mr. Ch-Im-ley unexpectedly rode up to Mr. Thrale's carriage, in which Mr. Thrale and she and Dr. Johnson were travelling; that he paid them all his proper compliments, but observing that Dr. Johnson, who was reading, did not see him, tapped him gently on the shoulder. ""Tis Mr. Ch-lm--ley," says my husband. "Well, sir-and what if it is Mr.Ch-Im-ley?" says the other sternly, just lifting his eyes a moment from his book, and returning to it again with renewed avidity.'

This surely conveys a notion of Johnson, às if he had been grossly rude to Mr. Cholmondeley,' a gentleman whom he always loved and esteemed. If, therefore, there was an absolute necessity for mentioning the story at all, it might have been thought that her tenderness for Dr. Johnson's character would have disposed her to state anything that could soften it. Why, then, is there a total silence as to what Mr. Cholmondeley told her?-that Johnson, who had known him from his earliest years, having been made sensible of what had doubtless a strange appearance, took occasion, when he afterwards met him, to make a very courteous and kind apology. There is another little circumstance which I cannot but remark. Her book was published in 1785. She had then in her possession a letter from Dr. Johnson, dated

1 George James Cholmondeley, Esq., grandson of George, third Earl of Cholmondeley, and one of the Commissioners of Excise,-- a gentleman respected for his abilities and elegance of manners.-BOSWELL.

in 1777, which begins thus: 'Cholmondeley's story shocks me, if it be true, which I can hardly think, for I am utterly unconscious of it: I am very sorry, and very much ashamed.' Why then publish the anecdote? Or if she did, why not add the circumstances, with which she was well acquainted?

In his social intercourse she thus describes him:

'Ever musing till he was called out to converse, and conversing till the fatigue of his friends, or the promptitude of his own temper to take offence, consigned him back again to silent meditation.'

Yet in the same book she tells us:

'He was, however, seldom inclined to be silent, when any moral or literary question was started; and it was on such occasions that, like the sage in Rasselas, he spoke, and attention watched his lips; he reasoned, and conviction closed his periods.'

His conversation, indeed, was so far from ever fatiguing his friends, that they regretted when it was interrupted or ceased, and could exclaim, in Milton's language,

'With thee conversing, I forget all time.'

I certainly, then, do not claim too much in behalf of my illustrious friend in saying, that however smart and entertaining Mrs. Thrale's Anecdotes are, they must not be held as good evidence against him; for wherever an instance of harshness' and severity is told, I beg leave to doubt its perfect authenticity; for though there may have been some foundation for it, yet, like that of his reproof to the very celebrated lady,' it may be so exhibited in the narration as to be very unlike the real fact.

The evident tendency of the following anecdote is to represent Dr. Johnson as extremely deficient in affection, tenderness, or even common civility:

'When I one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed in America,-"Prithee, my dear," said he, "have done with canting; how would the world be the worse for it, I may ask, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks and roasted for Presto's supper?" (Presto was the dog that lay under the table while we talked.)'

I suspect this too of exaggeration and distortion. I allow that he made her an angry speech; but let the circumstances fairly appear, as told by Mr. Baretti, who was present:

'Mrs. Thrale, while supping very heartily upon larks, laid down her knife and fork, and abruptly exclaimed, "Oh, my dear Johnson, do you know what has happened? The last letters from abroad have brought us an account that our poor cousin's head was taken off by a cannon ball." Johnson, who was shocked both at the fact, and her light, unfeeling manner of mentioning it, replied, "Madam, it would give you very little concern if all your relations were

spitted like those larks, and drest for Presto's supper."1

It is with concern that I find myself obliged to animadvert on the inaccuracies of Mrs. Piozzi's Anecdotes, and perhaps I may be thought to have dwelt too long upon her little collection. But as, from Johnson's long residence under Mr. Thrale's roof, and his intimacy with her, the account which she has given of him may have made an unfavourable and unjust impression, my duty, as a faithful biographer, has obliged me reluctantly to perform this unpleasing task.

CHAPTER LXII.

1784.

HAVING left the pious negotiation, as I called it, in the best hands, I shall here insert what relates to it. Johnson wrote to Sir Joshua Reynolds, on July 6, as follows:-'I am going, I hope in a few days, to try the air of Derbyshire, but hope to see you before I go. Let me, however, mention to you what I have much at heart. -If the Chancellor should continue his attention to Mr. Boswell's request, and confer with you on the means of relieving my languid state, I am very desirous to avoid the appearance of asking money upon false pretences. I desire you to represent to his Lordship, what, as soon as it is suggested, he will perceive to be reasonable,-That if I grow much worse, I shall be afraid to leave my physicians, to suffer the inconveniences of travel, and pine in the solitude of a foreign country;-that, if I grow much better, of which indeed there is now little appearance, I shall not wish to leave my friends and my domestic comforts; for I do not travel for pleasure or curiosity; yet if I should recover, curiosity would revive.-In my present state, I am desirous to make a struggle for a little longer life, and hope to obtain some help from a softer climate. Do for me what you can.' He wrote to me, July 26:-'I wish your affairs could have permitted a longer and continued exertion of

1 Upon mentioning this to my friend Mr. Wilkes, he, with his usual readiness, pleasantly matched it with the following sentimental anecdote:-He was invited by a young man of fashion at Paris to sup with him and a lady who had been for some time his mistress, but with whom he was going to part. He said to Mr. Wilkes that he really felt very much for her, she was in such distress, and that he meant to make her a present of two hundred louis-d'ors. Mr. Wilkes observed the behaviour of mademoiselle, who sighed indeed very piteously, and assumed every pathetic air of grief, but ate no less than three French pigeons, which are as large as English partridges, besides other things. Mr. Wilkes whispered the gentleman, 'We often say in England, Excessive sorrow is exceeding dry; but I never heard, Excessive sorrow is exceeding hungry. Perhaps one hundred will do.' The gentleman took the hint.— BOSWELL.

your zeal and kindness. They that have your kindness may want your ardour. In the meantime I am very feeble, and very dejected.'

By a letter from Sir Joshua Reynolds I was informed that the Lord Chancellor had called on him, and acquainted him that the applica tion had not been successful; but that his Lord ship, after speaking highly in praise of Johnson, as a man who was an honour to his country, desired Sir Joshua to let him know, that on granting a mortgage of his pension, he should draw on his Lordship to the amount of five or six hundred pounds; and that his Lordship explained the meaning of the mortgage to be, that he wished the business to be conducted in such a manner that Dr. Johnson should appear to be under the least possible obligation. Sir Joshua mentioned that he had by the same post communicated all this to Dr. Johnson.

How Johnson was affected upon the occasion will appear from what he wrote to Sir Joshua Reynolds:

'ASHBOURNE, Sept. 9.

'Many words, I hope, are not necessary between you and me, to convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart by the Chancellor's liberality, and your kind offices.

'I have enclosed a letter to the Chancellor, which, when you have read it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, or any other general seal, and convey it to him. Had I sent it directly to him, I should have seemed to overlook the favour of your intervention.'

'TO THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR.1 'September 1784. 'MY LORD,-After a long and not inattentive observation of mankind, the generosity of your Lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder than gratitude. Bounty so liberally bestowed, I should gladly receive, if my condition made it necessary; for to such a mind, who would not be proud to own his obligations? But it has pleased GOD to restore me to so great a measure of health, that if I should now appropriate so much of a fortune destined to do good, I could not escape from myself the charge of advancing a false claim. My journey to the Continent, though I once thought it necessary, was never much encouraged by my physicians; and I was very desirous that your Lordship should be told of it by Sir Joshua Reynolds, as an event very uncertain; for if I grew much

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better, I should not be willing, if much worse, not able, to migrate. Your Lordship was first solicited without my knowledge; but when I was told that you were pleased to honour me with your patronage, I did not expect to hear of a refusal. Yet, as I have had no long time to brood hope, and have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold reception has been scarce a disappointment; and, from your Lordship's kindness, I have received a benefit which only men like you are able to bestow. I shall now live mihi carior, with a higher opinion of my own merit. I am, my Lord, your Lordship's most obliged, most grateful, and most humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.'

Upon this unexpected failure I abstain from presuming to make any remarks, or to offer any conjectures.

Having, after repeated reasonings, brought Dr. Johnson to agree to my removing to London, and even to furnish me with arguments in favour of what he had opposed, I wrote to him requesting he would write them for me; he was so good as to comply, and I shall extract that part of his letter to me of June 11, as a proof how well he could exhibit a cautious yet encouraging view of it:

'I remember, and entreat you to remember, that virtus est vitium fugere; the first approach to riches is security from poverty. The condition upon which you have my consent to settle in London is, that your expense never exceeds your annual income. Fixing this basis of security, you cannot be hurt, and you may be very much advanced. The loss of your Scottish business, which is all that you can lose, is not to be reckoned as any equivalent to the hopes and possibilities that open here upon you. If you succeed, the question of prudence is at an end; everybody will think that done right which ends happily; and though your expectations, of which I would not advise you to talk too much, should not be totally answered, you can hardly fail to get friends who will do for you all that your present situation allows you to hope; and if, after a few years, you should return to Scotland, you will return with a mind supplied by various conversation, and many opportunities of inquiry, with much knowledge and materials for reflection and instruction.'

Let us now contemplate Johnson, thirty years after the death of his wife, still retaining for her all the tenderness of affection.

'TO THE REVEREND MR. BAGSHAW, AT
BROMLEY.

'July 12, 1784. 'SIR,-Perhaps you may remember, that in the year 1753 you committed to the ground my dear wife. I now entreat your permission to lay a stone upon her; and have sent the inscrip

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On the same day he wrote to Mr. Langton :'I cannot but think that in my languid and anxious state I have some reason to complain that I receive from you neither inquiry nor consolation. You know how much I value your friendship, and with what confidence I expect your kindness, if I wanted any act of tenderness that you could perform; at least, if you do not know it, I think your ignorance is your own fault. Yet how long is it that I have lived almost in your neighbourhood without the least notice!-I do not, however, consider this neglect as particularly shown to me; I hear two of your most valuable friends make the some complaint. But why are all thus overlooked? You are not oppressed by sickness; you are not distracted by business; if you are sick, you are sick of leisure :-And allow yourself to be told that no disease is more to be dreaded or avoided. Rather to do nothing than to do good, is the lowest state of a degraded mind. Boileau says to his pupil,

"Que les vers ne soient pas votre éternel emploi,
Cultivez vos amis."-

That voluntary debility, which modern language is content to term indolence, will, if it is not counteracted by resolution, render in time the strongest faculties lifeless, and turn the flame to the smoke of virtue.—I do not expect nor desire to see you, because I am much pleased to find that your mother stays so long with you, and I should think you neither elegant nor grateful if you did not study her gratification.-You will pay my respects to both the ladies, and to all the young people.-I am going northward for a while, to try what help the country can give me; but if you will write, the letter will come after me.'

Next day he set out on a jaunt to Staffordshire and Derbyshire, flattering himself that he might be in some degree relieved.

During his absence from London he kept up a correspondence with several of his friends, from which I shall select what appears to me proper for publication, without attending nicely to chronological order.

1 Printed in his works.-BOSWELL.

To Dr. Brocklesby he writes :

'ASHBOURNE, July 20.

"The kind attention which you have so long shown to my health and happiness makes it as much a debt of gratitude as a call of interest, to give you an account of what befalls me, when accident removes me from your immediate care. -The journey of the first day was performed with very little sense of fatigue; the second day brought me to Lichfield, without much lassitude; but I am afraid that I could not have borne such violent agitation for many days together. Tell Dr. Heberden, that in the coach I read Ciceronianus, which I concluded as I entered Lichfield. My affection and understanding went along with Erasmus, except that once or twice he somewhat unskilfully entangles Cicero's civil or moral with his rhetorical character.-I stayed five days at Lichfield, but, being unable to walk, had no great pleasure, and yesterday (19th) I came hither, where I am to try what air and attention can perform.-Of any improvement in my health I cannot yet please myself with the perception.

-The asthma has no abatement. Opiates stop the fit, so as that I can sit and sometimes lie easy, but they do not now procure me the power of motion; and I am afraid that my general strength of body does not increase. The weather, indeed, is not benign; but how low is he sunk whose strength depends upon the weather!--I am now looking into Floyer, who lived with his asthma to almost his ninetieth year. His book by want of order is obscure; and his asthma, I think, not of the same kind with mine. Something, however, I may perhaps learn.My appetite still continues keen enough; and, what I consider as a symptom of radical health, I have a voracious delight in raw summer fruit, of which I was less eager a few years ago.-You will be pleased to communicate this account to Dr. Heberden; and if anything is to be done, let me have your joint opinion.-Now-abite curce! let me inquire after the Club.'1

'July 31. Not recollecting that Dr. Heberden might be at Windsor, I thought your letter long

in coming. But you know, nocitura petuntur, the letter which I so much desired tells me that I have lost one of my best and tenderest friends.2 My comfort is, that he appeared to live like a man that had always before his eyes the fragility of our present existence, and was therefore, I

hope, not unprepared to meet his Judge.-Your attention, dear sir, and that of Dr. Heberden, to my health is extremely kind. I am loth to think that I grow worse; and cannot fairly prove, even to my own partiality, that I grow much better.'

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for your unwearied attention, both medicinal and friendly, and hope to prove the effect of your care by living to acknowledge it.'

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August 12. Pray be so kind as to have me in your thoughts, and mention my case to others as you have opportunity. I seem to myself neither to gain nor lose strength. I have lately tried milk, but have yet found no advantage, and I am afraid of it merely as a liquid. My appetite is still good, which I know is dear Dr, Heberden's criterion of the vis vita.-As we cannot now see each other, do not omit to write; for you cannot think with what warmth of expectation I reckon the hours of a post-day.'

'August 14. I have hitherto sent you only melancholy letters; you will be glad to hear some better account. Yesterday the asthma remitted, perceptibly remitted, and I moved with more ease than I have enjoyed for many weeks. May GOD continue His mercy. This account I would not delay, because I am not a lover of complaints, or complainers, and yet I have, since we parted, uttered nothing till now but terror and sorrow. Write to me, dear sir.'

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'August 16. Better, I hope, and better. My respiration gets more and more ease and liberty. I went to church yesterday, after a very liberal dinner, without any inconvenience; it is indeed no long walk, but I never walked it without difficulty, since I came, before. The intention was only to overpower the seeming vis inertia of the pectoral and pulmonary muscles. I am favoured with a degree of ease that very much delights me, and do not despair of another race up the stairs of the Academy.If I were, however, of a humour to see, or to show the state of my body, on the dark side, I might say,

Quid te exempta juvat spinis de pluribus una?" 1 The nights are still sleepless, and the water rises, though it does not rise very fast. Let us, however, rejoice in all the good that we have. The remission of one disease will enable nature to combat the rest.-The squills I have not neglected; for I have taken more than a hundred drops a day, and one day took two hundred and fifty, which, according to the popular equivalent of a drop to a grain, is more than half an ounce. -I thank you, dear sir, for your attention in ordering the medicines; your attention to me has never failed. If the virtue of medicines could be enforced by the benevolence of the prescriber, how soon should I be well!'

'August 19. The relaxation of the asthma still continues, yet I do not trust it wholly to itself, but soothe it now and then with an opiate. I not only perform the perpetual act of respiration with less labour, but I can walk with fewer intervals of rest and with greater freedom of motion. I never thought well of Dr. James's

Horat. Epist. ii. 212.-BOSWELL.

compounded medicines; his ingredients appear to me sometimes inefficacious and trifling, and sometimes heterogeneous and destructive of each other. This prescription exhibits a composition of about three hundred and thirty grains, in which there are four grains of emetic tartar, and six drops [of] thebaic tincture. He that writes thus, surely writes for show. The basis of his medicine is the gum ammoniacum, which dear Dr. Lawrence used to give, but of which I never saw any effect. We will, if you please, let this medicine alone. The squills have every suffrage, and in the squills we will rest for the present.'

'August 21. The kindness which you show, by having me in your thoughts upon all occasions, will, I hope, always fill my heart with gratitude. Be pleased to return my thanks to Sir George Baker, for the consideration which he has bestowed upon me.-Is this the balloon that has been so long expected, this balloon to which I subscribed, but without payment? It is pity that philosophers have been disappointed, and shame that they have been cheated; but I know not well how to prevent either. Of this experiment I have read nothing. Where was it exhibited? and who was the man that ran away with so much money? Continue, dear sir, to write often and more at a time, for none of your prescriptions operate to their proper uses more certainly than your letters operate as cordials."

'August 26. I suffered you to escape last post without a letter: but you are not to expect such indulgence very often; for I write not so much because I have anything to say, as because I hope for an answer; and the vacancy of my life here makes a letter of great value.-I have here little company and little amusement, and miseries, I am something gloomy and depressed; thus abandoned to the contemplation of my own this too I resist as I can, and find opium, I think, useful; but I seldom take more than one grain. -Is not this strange weather? Winter absorbed the spring, and now autumn is come before we have had summer. But let not our kindness for each other imitate the inconstancy of the seasons.'

'Sept. 2. Mr. Windham has been here to see me; he came, I think, forty miles out of his way, and stayed about a day and a half; perSuch haps I make the time shorter than it was. conversation I shall not have again till I come back to the regions of literature; and there Windham is, inter stellas' Luna minores.' He then mentions the effects of certain medicines, as taken: Nature is recovering its original powers, and the functions returning to their

It is remarkable that so good a Latin scholar as Johnson should have been so inattentive to the metre, as by mistake to have written stellas instead of ignes. -BOSWELL.

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