He said, ‘If convents should be allowed at all, they should only be retreats for persons unable to serve the publick, or who have served it. It is our first duty to serve society, and, after we have done that, we may attend wholly to the salvation of our own souls. A youthful passion for abstracted devotion should not be encouraged.’
I introduced the subject of second sight, and other mysterious manifestations; the fulfilment of which, I suggested, might happen by chance. Johnson. ‘Yes, Sir; but they have happened so often, that mankind have agreed to think them not fortuitous.’
I talked to him a great deal of what I had seen in Corsica, and of my intention to publish an account of it. He encouraged me by saying, ‘You cannot go to the bottom of the subject; but all that you tell us will be new to us. Give us as many anecdotes as you can.’
Our next meeting at the Mitre was on Saturday the 15th of February, when I presented to him my old and most intimate friend, the Reverend Mr. Temple, then of Cambridge. I having mentioned that I had passed some time with Rousseau in his wild retreat, and having quoted some remark made by Mr. Wilkes, with whom I had spent many pleasant hours in Italy, Johnson said (sarcastically,) ‘It seems, Sir, you have kept very good company abroad, Rousseau and Wilkes!’ Thinking it enough to defend one at a time, I said nothing as to my gay friend, but answered with a smile, ‘My dear Sir, you don’t call Rousseau bad company. Do you really think him a bad man?’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, if you are talking jestingly of this, I don’t talk with you. If you mean to be serious, I think him one of the worst of men; a rascal who ought to be hunted out of society, as he has been. Three or four nations have expelled him; and it is a shame that he is protected in this country.’ BOSWELL. ‘I don’t deny, Sir, but that his novel may, perhaps, do harm; but I cannot think his intention was bad.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, that will not do. We cannot prove any man’s intention to be bad. You may shoot a man through the head, and say you intended to miss him; but the Judge will order you to be hanged. An alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed in a court of justice. Rousseau, Sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to have him work in the plantations.’ BOSWELL. ‘Sir, do you think him as bad a man as Voltaire?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, it is difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity between them.’
This violence seemed very strange to me, who had read many of Rousseau’s animated writings with great pleasure, and even edification; had been much pleased with his society, and was just come from the Continent, where he was very generally admired. Nor can I yet allow that he deserves the very severe censure which Johnson pronounced upon him. His absurd preference of savage to civilised life, and other singularities, are proofs rather of a defect in his understanding, than of any depravity in his heart. And notwithstanding the unfortunate opinion which many worthy men have expressed of his ‘Profession de Foi du Vicaire Savoyard’,223 I cannot help admiring it as the performance of a man full of sincere reverential submission to Divine Mystery, though beset with perplexing doubts; a state of mind to be viewed with pity rather than with anger.
On his favourite subject of subordination, Johnson said, ‘So far is it from being true that men are naturally equal, that no two people can be half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evident superiority over the other.’
I mentioned the advice given us by philosophers, to console ourselves, when distressed or embarrassed, by thinking of those who are in a worse situation than ourselves. This, I observed, could not apply to all, for there must be some who have nobody worse than they are. Johnson. ‘Why, to be sure, Sir, there are; but they don’t know it. There is no being so poor and so contemptible, who does not think there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible.’
As my stay in London at this time was very short, I had not many opportunities of being with Dr. Johnson; but I felt my veneration for him in no degree lessened, by my having seen multorum hominum mores et urbes.224 On the contrary, by having it in my power to compare him with many of the most celebrated persons of other countries, my admiration of his extraordinary mind was increased and confirmed.
The roughness, indeed, which sometimes appeared in his manners, was more striking to me now, and from my having been accustomed to the studied smooth complying habits of the Continent; and I clearly recognised in him, not without respect for his honest conscientious zeal, the same indignant and sarcastical mode of treating every attempt to unhinge or weaken good principles.
One evening when a young gentleman225 teized him with an account of the infidelity of his servant, who, he said, would not believe the scriptures, because he could not read them in the original tongues, and be sure that they were not invented, ‘Why, foolish fellow, (said Johnson,) has he any better authority for almost every thing that he believes?’ BOSWELL. ‘Then the vulgar, Sir, never can know they are right, but must submit themselves to the learned.’ JOHNSON. ‘To be sure, Sir. The vulgar are the children of the State, and must be taught like children.’ BOSWELL. ‘Then, Sir, a poor Turk must be a Mahometan, just as a poor Englishman must be a Christian?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, yes, Sir; and what then? This now is such stuff as I used to talk to my mother, when I first began to think myself a clever fellow; and she ought to have whipt me for it.’
Another evening Dr. Goldsmith and I called on him, with the hope of prevailing on him to sup with us at the Mitre. We found him indisposed, and resolved not to go abroad. ‘Come then, (said Goldsmith,) we will not go to the Mitre to-night, since we cannot have the big man with us.’ Johnson then called for a bottle of port, of which Goldsmith and I partook, while our friend, now a water-drinker, sat by us. Goldsmith. ‘I think, Mr. Johnson, you don’t go near the theatres now. You give yourself no more concern about a new play, than if you had never had any thing to do with the stage.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, our tastes greatly alter. The lad does not care for the child’s rattle, and the old man does not care for the young man’s whore.’ Goldsmith. ‘Nay, Sir, but your Muse was not a whore.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, I do not think she was. But as we advance in the journey of life, we drop some of the things which have pleased us; whether it be that we are fatigued and don’t choose to carry so many things any farther, or that we find other things which we like better.’ BOSWELL. ‘But, Sir, why don’t you give us something in some other way?’ Goldsmith. ‘Ay, Sir, we have a claim upon you.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir, I am not obliged to do any more. No man is obliged to do as much as he can do. A man is to have part of his life to himself. If a soldier has fought a good many campaigns, he is not to be blamed if he retires to ease and tranquillity. A physician, who has practised long in a great city, may be excused if he retires to a small town, and takes less practice. Now, Sir, the good I can do by my conversation bears the same proportion to the good I can do by my writings, that the practice of a physician, retired to a small town, does to his practice in a great city.’ BOSWELL. ‘But I wonder, Sir, you have not more pleasure in writing than in not writing.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, you may wonder.’
He talked of making verses, and observed, ‘The great difficulty is to know when you have made good ones. When composing, I have generally had them in my mind, perhaps fifty at a time, walking up and down in my room; and then I have written them down, and often, from laziness, have written only half lines. I have written a hundred lines in a day. I remember I wrote a hundred lines of The Vanity of Human Wishes in a day. Doctor, (turning to Goldsmith,) I am not quite idle; I made one line t’other day; but I made no more.’ Goldsmith. ‘Let us hear it; we’ll put a bad one to it.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir, I have forgot it.’
Such specimens of the easy and playful conversation of the great Dr. Samuel Johnson are, I think, to be prized; as exhibiting the little varieties of a mind so enlarged and so powerful when objects of consequence required its exertions, and as giving us a minute knowledge of his character and modes of thinking.
; ‘To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., at Langton, near Spilsby, Lincolnshire
‘DEAR SIR, – What your friends have done, that from your departure till now nothing has been heard of you, none of us are able to inform the rest; but as we are all neglected alike, no one thinks himself entitled to the privilege of complaint.
‘I should have known nothing of you or of Langton, from the time that dear Miss Langton left us, had not I met Mr. Simpson, of Lincoln, one day in the street, by whom I was informed that Mr. Langton, your Mamma, and yourself, had been all ill, but that you were all recovered.
‘That sickness should suspend your correspondence, I did not wonder; but hoped that it would be renewed at your recovery.
‘Since you will not inform us where you are, or how you live, I know not whether you desire to know any thing of us. However, I will tell you that the club subsists; but we have the loss of Burke’s company since he has been engaged in publick business, in which he has gained more reputation than perhaps any man at his [first] appearance ever gained before. He made two speeches in the House for repealing the Stamp-act, which were publickly commended by Mr. Pitt, and have filled the town with wonder.
‘Burke is a great man by nature, and is expected soon to attain civil greatness. Iamgrown greater too, for I have maintained thenews-papersthese many weeks; and what is greater still, I have risen every morning since New-year’s day, at about eight; when I was up, I have indeed done but little; yet it is no slight advancement to obtain for so many hours more, the consciousness of being.
‘I wish you were in my new study; I am now writing the first letter in it. I think it looks very pretty about me.
‘Dyer is constant at the club; Hawkins is remiss; I am not over diligent. Dr. Nugent, Dr. Goldsmith, and Mr. Reynolds, are very constant. Mr. Lye is printing his Saxon and Gothick Dictionary; all the club subscribes.
‘You will pay my respects to all my Lincolnshire friends. I am, dear Sir, most affectionately yours,
‘March9,1766. ‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
Johnson’s-court, Fleet-street.’
‘To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., at Langton, near Spilsby, Lincolnshire
‘DEAR SIR, – In supposing that I should be more than commonly affected by the death of Peregrine Langton,a you were not mistaken; he was one of those whom I loved at once by instinct and by reason. I have seldom indulged more hope of any thing than of being able to improve our acquaintance to friendship. Many a time have I placed myself again at Langton, and imagined the pleasure with which I should walk to Partneyb in a summer morning; but this is no longer possible. We must now endeavour to preserve what is left us, – his example of piety and æconomy. I hope you make what enquiries you can, and write down what is told you. The little things which distinguish domestick characters are soon forgotten: if you delay to enquire, you will have no information; if you neglect to write, information will be vain.c
‘His art of life certainly deserves to be known and studied. He lived in plenty and elegance upon an income which, to many would appear indigent, and to most, scanty. How he lived, therefore, every man has an interest in knowing. His death, I hope, was peaceful; it was surely happy.
‘I wish I had written sooner, lest, writing now, I should renew your grief; but I would not forbear saying what I have now said.
‘This loss is, I hope, the only misfortune of a family to whom no misfortune at all should happen, if my wishes could avert it. Let me know how you all go on. Has Mr. Langton got him the little horse that I recommended? It would do him good to ride about his estate in fine weather.
‘Be pleased to make my compliments to Mrs. Langton, and to dear Miss Langton, and Miss Di, and Miss Juliet, and to every body else.
‘THE cLUB holds very well together. Monday is my night.a I continue to rise tolerably well, and read more than I did. I hope something will yet come on it. I am, Sir, your most affectionate servant,
‘May 10, 1766. ‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
Johnson’s-court, Fleet-street.’
After I had been some time in Scotland, I mentioned to him in a letter that ‘On my first return to my native country, after some years of absence, I was told of a vast number of my acquaintance who were all gone to the land of forgetfulness, and I found myself like a man stalking over a field of battle, who every moment perceives some one lying dead.’ I complained of irresolution, and mentioned my having made a vow as a security for good conduct. I wrote to him again, without being able to move his indolence; nor did I hear from him till he had received a copy of my inaugural Exercise, or Thesis in Civil Law, which I published at my admission as an Advocate, as is the custom in Scotland. He then wrote to me as follows:
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR, – The reception of your Thesis put me in mind of my debt to you. Why did you ∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗a I will punish you for it, by telling you that your Latin wants correction.b In the beginning, i>pei alterce, not to urge that it should be primce, is not grammatical: alterce should be alteri. In the next line you seem to use genus absolutely, for what we call family, that is, for illustrious extraction, I doubt without authority. Homines nullius originis, for Nullis orti majoribus, or, Nullo loco nati, is, I am afraid, barbarous. – Ruddiman is dead.
I have now vexed you enough, and will try to please you. Your resolution to obey your father I sincerely approve; but do not accustom yourself to enchain your volatility by vows: they will sometimes leave a thorn in your mind, which you will, perhaps, never be able to extract or eject. Take this warning, it is of great importance.
The study of the law is what you very justly term it, copious and generous;c and in adding your name to its professors, you have done exactly what I always wished, when I wished you best. I hope that you will continue to pursue it vigorously and constantly. You gain, at least, what is no small advantage, security from those troublesome and wearisome discontents, which are always obtruding themselves upon a mind vacant, unemployed, and undetermined.
‘You ought to think it no small inducement to diligence and perseverance, that they will please your father. We all live upon the hope of pleasing somebody; and the pleasure of pleasing ought to be greatest, and at last always will be greatest, when our endeavours are exerted in consequence of our duty.
‘Life is not long, and too much of it must not pass in idle deliberation how it shall be spent; deliberation, which those who begin it by prudence, and continue it with subtilty, must, after long expence of thought, conclude by chance. To prefer one future mode of life to another, upon just reasons, requires faculties which it has not pleased our Creator to give us.
‘If, therefore, the profession you have chosen has some unexpected inconveniences, console yourself by reflecting that no profession is without them; and that all the importunities and perplexities of business are softness and luxury, compared with the incessant cravings of vacancy, and the unsatisfactory expedients of idleness.
“Hcec sunt quce nosträ potui te voce monere;
Vade, age.”229
‘As to your History of Corsica, you have no materials which others have not, or may not have. You have, somehow or other, warmed your imagination. I wish there were some cure, like the lover’s leap, for all heads of which some single idea has obtained an unreasonable and irregular possession. Mind your own affairs, and leave the Corsicans to theirs. I am, dear Sir, your most humble servant,
‘London, Aug. 21, 1766.’ ‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON
‘Auchinleck, Nov. 6, 1766.
‘MUCH ESTEEMED aND DEAR SIR, – I plead not guilty to ∗∗∗∗∗∗∗∗a
‘Having thus, I hope, cleared myself of the charge brought against me, I presume you will not be displeased if I escape the punishment which you have decreed for me unheard. If you have discharged the arrows of criticism against an innocent man, you must rejoice to find they have missed him, or have not been pointed so as to wound him.
‘To talk no longer in allegory, I am, with all
deference, going to offer a few observations in defence of my Latin, which you have found fault with.
‘You think I should have used spei primce, instead of spei alterce. Spes is, indeed, often used to express something on which we have a future dependence, as in Virg. Eclog. i. l. 14,
“–––––– modo namque gemellos
Spem gregis ah silice in nuda connixa reliquit.”230
and in Georg. iii. l. 473,
“Spemque gregemque simul,”231
for the lambs and the sheep. Yet it is also used to express any thing on which we have a present dependence, and is well applied to a man of distinguished influence, our support, our refuge, our prcesidium232 as Horace calls Maecenas. So, æneid xii. l. 57, Queen Amata addresses her son-in-law Turnus: – “Spes tu nunc una:” and he was then no future hope, for she adds,
“–––––– decus imperiumque Latini
Te penes;” 233
which might have been said of my Lord Bute some years ago. Now I consider the present Earl of Bute to be “Excelsce families de Bute spes prima;” and my Lord Mountstuart, as his eldest son, to be “spes altera.”234 So in æneid xii. l. 168, after having mentioned Pater æneas, who was the present spes, the reigning spes, as my German friends would say, the spes prima, the poet adds,
“Et juxta Ascanius, magnx spes altera Romce.”235
‘You think aliens ungrammatical, and you tell me it should have been altert. You must recollect, that in old times alter was declined regularly; and when the ancient fragments preserved in the Juris Civilis Fontes236 were written, it was certainly declined in the way that I use it. This, I should think, may protect a lawyer who writes aliens in a dissertation upon part of his own science. But as I could hardly venture to quote fragments of old law to so classical a man as Mr. Johnson, I have not made an accurate search into these remains, to find examples of what I am able to produce in poetical composition. We find in Plaut. Rudens, act iii. scene 4,
The Life of Samuel Johnson Page 44
