Complete Works of Samuel Johnson, page 797
His discharge of parochial duties was exemplary. How his Sermons were composed, may be learned from the excellent volume which he has given to the publick; but how they were delivered, can be known only to those that heard them; for as he appeared in the pulpit, words will not easily describe him. His delivery, though unconstrained was not negligent, and though forcible was not turbulent; disdaining anxious nicety of emphasis, and laboured artifice of action, it captivated the hearer by its natural dignity, it roused the sluggish, and fixed the volatile, and detained the mind upon the subject, without directing it to the speaker.
The grandeur and solemnity of the preacher did not intrude upon his general behaviour; at the table of his friends he was a companion communicative and attentive, of unaffected manners, of manly cheerfulness, willing to please, and easy to be pleased. His acquaintance was universally solicited, and his presence obstructed no enjoyment which religion did not forbid. Though studious he was popular; though argumentative he was modest; though inflexible he was candid; and though metaphysical yet orthodox.’
On Friday, March 30, I dined with him at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s, with the Earl of Charlemont, Sir Annesley Stewart, Mr. Eliot of Port-Eliot, Mr. Burke, Dean Marlay, Mr. Langton; a most agreeable day, of which I regret that every circumstance is not preserved; but it is unreasonable to require such a multiplication of felicity.
Mr. Eliot, with whom Dr. Walter Harte had travelled, talked to us of his History of Gustavus Adolphus, which he said was a very good book in the German translation. JOHNSON. ‘Harte was excessively vain. He put copies of his book in manuscript into the hands of Lord Chesterfield and Lord Granville, that they might revise it. Now how absurd was it to suppose that two such noblemen would revise so big a manuscript. Poor man! he left London the day of the publication of his book, that he might be out of the way of the great praise he was to receive; and he was ashamed to return, when he found how ill his book had succeeded. It was unlucky in coming out on the same day with Robertson’s History of Scotland. His husbandry, however, is good.’ BOSWELL. ‘So he was fitter for that than for heroick history: he did well, when he turned his sword into a plough-share.’
Mr. Eliot mentioned a curious liquor peculiar to his country, which the Cornish fishermen drink. They call it Mahogany; and it is made of two parts gin, and one part treacle, well beaten together. I begged to have some of it made, which was done with proper skill by Mr. Eliot. I thought it very good liquor; and said it was a counterpart of what is called Athol Porridge in the Highlands of Scotland, which is a mixture of whisky and honey. Johnson said, ‘that must be a better liquor than the Cornish, for both its component parts are better.’ He also observed, ‘Mahogany must be a modern name; for it is not long since the wood called mahogany was known in this country.’ I mentioned his scale of liquors; — claret for boys — port for men — brandy for heroes. ‘Then (said Mr. Burke) let me have claret: I love to be a boy; to have the careless gaiety of boyish days.’ JOHNSON. ‘I should drink claret too, if it would give me that; but it does not: it neither makes boys men, nor men boys. You’ll be drowned by it, before it has any effect upon you.’
I ventured to mention a ludicrous paragraph in the newspapers, that Dr. Johnson was learning to dance of Vestris. Lord Charlemont, wishing to excite him to talk, proposed in a whisper, that he should be asked, whether it was true. ‘Shall I ask him?’ said his Lordship. We were, by a great majority, clear for the experiment. Upon which his Lordship very gravely, and with a courteous air said, ‘Pray, Sir, is it true that you are taking lessons of Vestris?’ This was risking a good deal, and required the boldness of a General of Irish Volunteers to make the attempt. Johnson was at first startled, and in some heat answered, ‘How can your Lordship ask so simple a question?’ But immediately recovering himself, whether from unwillingness to be deceived, or to appear deceived, or whether from real good humour, he kept up the joke: ‘Nay, but if any body were to answer the paragraph, and contradict it, I’d have a reply, and would say, that he who contradicted it was no friend either to Vestris or me. For why should not Dr. Johnson add to his other powers a little corporeal agility? Socrates learnt to dance at an advanced age, and Cato learnt Greek at an advanced age. Then it might proceed to say, that this Johnson, not content with dancing on the ground, might dance on the rope; and they might introduce the elephant dancing on the rope. A nobleman wrote a play, called Love in a hollow Tree. He found out that it was a bad one, and therefore wished to buy up all the copies, and burn them. The Duchess of Marlborough had kept one; and when he was against her at an election, she had a new edition of it printed, and prefixed to it, as a frontispiece, an elephant dancing on a rope; to shew, that his Lordship’s writing comedy was as aukward as an elephant dancing on a rope.’
On Sunday, April 1, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale’s, with Sir Philip Jennings Clerk and Mr. Perkins, who had the superintendence of Mr. Thrale’s brewery, with a salary of five hundred pounds a year. Sir Philip had the appearance of a gentleman of ancient family, well advanced in life. He wore his own white hair in a bag of goodly size, a black velvet coat, with an embroidered waistcoat, and very rich laced ruffles; which Mrs. Thrale said were old fashioned, but which, for that reason, I thought the more respectable, more like a Tory; yet Sir Philip was then in Opposition in Parliament. ‘Ah, Sir, (said Johnson,) ancient ruffles and modern principles do not agree.’ Sir Philip defended the Opposition to the American war ably and with temper, and I joined him. He said, the majority of the nation was against the ministry. JOHNSON. ‘I, Sir, am against the ministry; but it is for having too little of that, of which Opposition thinks they have too much. Were I minister, if any man wagged his finger against me, he should be turned out; for that which it is in the power of Government to give at pleasure to one or to another, should be given to the supporters of Government. If you will not oppose at the expence of losing your place, your opposition will not be honest, you will feel no serious grievance; and the present opposition is only a contest to get what others have. Sir Robert Walpole acted as I would do. As to the American war, the sense of the nation is with the ministry. The majority of those who can understand is with it; the majority of those who can only hear, is against it; and as those who can only hear are more numerous than those who can understand, and Opposition is always loudest, a majority of the rabble will be for Opposition.’
This boisterous vivacity entertained us; but the truth in my opinion was, that those who could understand the best were against the American war, as almost every man now is, when the question has been coolly considered.
Mrs. Thrale gave high praise to Mr. Dudley Long, (now North). JOHNSON. ‘Nay, my dear lady, don’t talk so. Mr. Long’s character is very short. It is nothing. He fills a chair. He is a man of genteel appearance, and that is all. I know nobody who blasts by praise as you do: for whenever there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against a character. They are provoked to attack it. Now there is Pepys; you praised that man with such disproportion, that I was incited to lessen him, perhaps more than he deserves. His blood is upon your head. By the same principle, your malice defeats itself; for your censure is too violent. And yet (looking to her with a leering smile) she is the first woman in the world, could she but restrain that wicked tongue of hers; — she would be the only woman, could she but command that little whirligig.’
Upon the subject of exaggerated praise I took the liberty to say, that I thought there might be very high praise given to a known character which deserved it, and therefore it would not be exaggerated. Thus, one might say of Mr. Edmund Burke, He is a very wonderful man. JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir, you would not be safe if another man had a mind perversely to contradict. He might answer, “Where is all the wonder? Burke is, to be sure, a man of uncommon abilities, with a great quantity of matter in his mind, and a great fluency of language in his mouth. But we are not to be stunned and astonished by him.” So you see, Sir, even Burke would suffer, not from any fault of his own, but from your folly.’
Mrs. Thrale mentioned a gentleman who had acquired a fortune of four thousand a year in trade, but was absolutely miserable, because he could not talk in company; so miserable, that he was impelled to lament his situation in the street to —— , whom he hates, and who he knows despises him. ‘I am a most unhappy man (said he). I am invited to conversations. I go to conversations; but, alas! I have no conversation.’ JOHNSON. ‘Man commonly cannot be successful in different ways. This gentleman has spent, in getting four thousand pounds a year, the time in which he might have learnt to talk; and now he cannot talk.’ Mr. Perkins made a shrewd and droll remark: ‘If he had got his four thousand a year as a mountebank, he might have learnt to talk at the same time that he was getting his fortune.’
Some other gentlemen came in. The conversation concerning the person whose character Dr. Johnson had treated so slightingly, as he did not know his merit, was resumed. Mrs. Thrale said, ‘You think so of him, Sir, because he is quiet, and does not exert himself with force. You’ll be saying the same thing of Mr. —— there, who sits as quiet — .’ This was not well-bred; and Johnson did not let it pass without correction. ‘Nay, Madam, what right have you to talk thus? Both Mr. —— and I have reason to take it ill. You may talk so of Mr. —— ; but why do you make me do it. Have I said anything against Mr. —— ? You have set him, that I might shoot him: but I have not shot him.’
One of the gentlemen said, he had seen three folio volumes of Dr. Johnson’s sayings collected by me. ‘I must put you right, Sir, (said I;) for I am very exact in authenticity. You could not see folio volumes, for I have none: you might have seen some in quarto and octavo. This is inattention which one should guard against.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, it is a want of concern about veracity. He does not know that he saw any volumes. If he had seen them he could have remembered their size.’
Mr. Thrale appeared very lethargick to-day. I saw him again on Monday evening, at which time he was not thought to be in immediate danger; but early in the morning of Wednesday, the 4th, he expired. Johnson was in the house, and thus mentions the event: ‘I felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect and benignity.’ Upon that day there was a Call of the LITERARY CLUB; but Johnson apologised for his absence by the following note: —
‘MR. JOHNSON knows that Sir Joshua Reynolds and the other gentlemen will excuse his incompliance with the call, when they are told that Mr. Thrale died this morning.’ Wednesday.’
Mr. Thrale’s death was a very essential loss to Johnson, who, although he did not foresee all that afterwards happened, was sufficiently convinced that the comforts which Mr. Thrale’s family afforded him, would now in a great measure cease. He, however continued to shew a kind attention to his widow and children as long as it was acceptable; and he took upon him, with a very earnest concern, the office of one of his executors, the importance of which seemed greater than usual to him, from his circumstances having been always such, that he had scarcely any share in the real business of life. His friends of the CLUB were in hopes that Mr. Thrale might have made a liberal provision for him for his life, which, as Mr. Thrale left no son, and a very large fortune, it would have been highly to his honour to have done; and, considering Dr. Johnson’s age, could not have been of long duration; but he bequeathed him only two hundred pounds, which was the legacy given to each of his executors. I could not but be somewhat diverted by hearing Johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold. Lord Lucan tells a very good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly characteristic: that when the sale of Thrale’s brewery was going forward, Johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being asked what he really considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered, ‘We are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats but the potentiality of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice.’
On Friday, April 6, he carried me to dine at a club, which, at his desire, had been lately formed at the Queen’s Arms, in St. Paul’s Church-yard. He told Mr. Hoole, that he wished to have a City Club, and asked him to collect one; but, said he, ‘Don’t let them be patriots.’ The company were to-day very sensible, well-behaved men. I have preserved only two particulars of his conversation. He said he was glad Lord George Gordon had escaped, rather than that a precedent should be established for hanging a man for constructive treason; which, in consistency with his true, manly, constitutional Toryism, he considered would be a dangerous engine of arbitrary power. And upon its being mentioned that an opulent and very indolent Scotch nobleman, who totally resigned the management of his affairs to a man of knowledge and abilities, had claimed some merit by saying, ‘The next best thing to managing a man’s own affairs well is being sensible of incapacity, and not attempting it, but having full confidence in one who can do it:’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, this is paltry. There is a middle course. Let a man give application; and depend upon it he will soon get above a despicable state of helplessness, and attain the power of acting for himself.’
On Saturday, April 7, I dined with him at Mr. Hoole’s with Governour Bouchier and Captain Orme, both of whom had been long in the East-Indies; and being men of good sense and observation, were very entertaining. Johnson defended the oriental regulation of different casts of men, which was objected to as totally destructive of the hopes of rising in society by personal merit. He shewed that there was a principle in it sufficiently plausible by analogy. ‘We see (said he) in metals that there are different species; and so likewise in animals, though one species may not differ very widely from another, as in the species of dogs, — the cur, the spaniel, the mastiff. The Bramins are the mastiffs of mankind.’
On Thursday, April 12, I dined with him at a Bishop’s, where were Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Berrenger, and some more company. He had dined the day before at another Bishop’s. I have unfortunately recorded none of his conversation at the Bishop’s where we dined together: but I have preserved his ingenious defence of his dining twice abroad in Passion-week; a laxity, in which I am convinced he would not have indulged himself at the time when he wrote his solemn paper in The Rambler, upon that aweful season. It appeared to me, that by being much more in company, and enjoying more luxurious living, he had contracted a keener relish of pleasure, and was consequently less rigorous in his religious rites. This he would not acknowledge; but he reasoned with admirable sophistry, as follows: ‘Why, Sir, a Bishop’s calling company together in this week is, to use the vulgar phrase, not the thing. But you must consider laxity is a bad thing; but preciseness is also a bad thing; and your general character may be more hurt by preciseness than by dining with a Bishop in Passion-week. There might be a handle for reflection. It might be said, ‘He refused to dine with a Bishop in Passion-week, but was three Sundays absent from Church.’ BOSWELL. ‘Very true, Sir. But suppose a man to be uniformly of good conduct, would it not be better that he should refuse to dine with a Bishop in this week, and so not encourage a bad practice by his example?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, you are to consider whether you might not do more harm by lessening the influence of a Bishop’s character by your disapprobation in refusing him, than by going to him.’
TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD.
‘DEAR MADAM,
‘Life is full of troubles. I have just lost my dear friend Thrale. I hope he is happy; but I have had a great loss. I am otherwise pretty well. I require some care of myself, but that care is not ineffectual; and when I am out of order, I think it often my own fault.
‘The spring is now making quick advances. As it is the season in which the whole world is enlivened and invigorated, I hope that both you and I shall partake of its benefits. My desire is to see Lichfield; but being left executor to my friend, I know not whether I can be spared; but I will try, for it is now long since we saw one another, and how little we can promise ourselves many more interviews, we are taught by hourly examples of mortality. Let us try to live so as that mortality may not be an evil. Write to me soon, my dearest; your letters will give me great pleasure.
‘I am sorry that Mr. Porter has not had his box; but by sending it to Mr. Mathias, who very readily undertook its conveyance, I did the best I could, and perhaps before now he has it.
‘Be so kind as to make my compliments to my friends; I have a great value for their kindness, and hope to enjoy it before summer is past. Do write to me. I am, dearest love,
‘Your most humble servant,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘London, April 12, 1781.’
On Friday, April 13, being Good-Friday, I went to St. Clement’s church with him as usual. There I saw again his old fellow-collegian, Edwards, to whom I said, ‘I think, Sir, Dr. Johnson and you meet only at Church.’— ‘Sir, (said he,) it is the best place we can meet in, except Heaven, and I hope we shall meet there too.’ Dr. Johnson told me, that there was very little communication between Edwards and him, after their unexpected renewal of acquaintance. ‘But (said he, smiling) he met me once, and said, “I am told you have written a very pretty book called The Rambler.” I was unwilling that he should leave the world in total darkness, and sent him a set.’
Mr. Berrenger visited him to-day, and was very pleasing. We talked of an evening society for conversation at a house in town, of which we were all members, but of which Johnson said, ‘It will never do, Sir. There is nothing served about there, neither tea, nor coffee, nor lemonade, nor any thing whatever; and depend upon it, Sir, a man does not love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went in.’ I endeavoured, for argument’s sake, to maintain that men of learning and talents might have very good intellectual society, without the aid of any little gratifications of the senses. Berrenger joined with Johnson, and said, that without these any meeting would be dull and insipid. He would therefore have all the slight refreshments; nay, it would not be amiss to have some cold meat, and a bottle of wine upon a side-board. ‘Sir, (said Johnson to me, with an air of triumph,) Mr. Berrenger knows the world. Every body loves to have good things furnished to them without any trouble. I told Mrs. Thrale once, that as she did not choose to have card tables, she should have a profusion of the best sweetmeats, and she would be sure to have company enough come to her.’ I agreed with my illustrious friend upon this subject; for it has pleased GOD to make man a composite animal, and where there is nothing to refresh the body, the mind will languish.
