The Life of Samuel Johnson

by James Boswell

  He said, ‘I have been reading Lord Kames’s Sketches of the History of Man. In treating of severity of punishment, he mentions that of Madame Lapouchin, in Russia, but he does not give it fairly; for I have looked at Chappe D’Auteroche, from whom he has taken it. He stops where it is said that the spectators thought her innocent, and leaves out what follows; that she nevertheless was guilty. Now this is being as culpable as one can conceive, to misrepresent fact in a book, and for what motive? It is like one of those lies which people tell, one cannot see why. The woman’s life was spared; and no punishment was too great for the favourite of an Empress who had conspired to dethrone her mistress.’ BOSWELL. ‘He was only giving a picture of the lady in her sufferings.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, don’t endeavour to palliate this. Guilt is a principal feature in the picture. Kames is puzzled with a question that puzzled me when I was a very young man. Why is it that the interest of money is lower, when money is plentiful; for five pounds has the same proportion of value to a hundred pounds when money is plentiful, as when it is scarce? A lady explained it to me. “It is (said she,) because when money is plentiful there are so many more who have money to lend, that they bid down one another. Many have then a hundred pounds; and one says, – Take mine rather than another’s, and you shall have it at four per cent.”’ BOSWELL. ‘Does Lord Kames decide the question?’ JOHNSON. ‘I think he leaves it as he found it.’ BOSWELL. ‘This must have been an extraordinary lady who instructed you, Sir. May I ask who she was?’ JOHNSON. ‘Molly Aston,a Sir, the sister of those ladies with whom you dined at Lichneld. I shall be at home to-morrow.’ Bo swell. ‘Then let us dine by ourselves at the Mitre, to keep up the old custom, “the custom of the manor,” the custom of the mitre.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, so it shall be.’

  On Saturday, May 9, we fulfilled our purpose of dining by ourselves at the Mitre, according to old custom. There was, on these occasions, a little circumstance of kind attention to Mrs. Williams, which must not be omitted. Before coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave her her choice of a chicken, a sweetbread, or any other little nice thing, which was carefully sent to her from the tavern, ready-drest.

  Our conversation to-day, I know not how, turned, (I think for the only time at any length, during our long acquaintance,) upon the sensual intercourse between the sexes, the delight of which he ascribed chiefly to imagination. ‘Were it not for imagination, Sir, (said he,) a man would be as happy in the arms of a chambermaid as of a Duchess. But such is the adventitious charm of fancy, that we find men who have violated the best principles of society, and ruined their fame and their fortune, that they might possess a woman of rank.’ It would not be proper to record the particulars of such a conversation in moments of unreserved frankness, when nobody was present on whom it could have any hurtful effect. That subject, when philosophically treated, may surely employ the mind in as curious discussion, and as innocently, as anatomy; provided that those who do treat it keep clear of inflammatory incentives.

  ‘From grave to gay, from lively to severe,’ – we were soon engaged in very different speculation; humbly and reverently considering and wondering at the universal mystery of all things, as our imperfect faculties can now judge of them. ‘There are (said he,) innumerable questions to which the inquisitive mind can in this state receive no answer: Why do you and I exist? Why was this world created? Since it was to be created, why was it not created sooner?’

  On Sunday, May 10, I supped with him at Mr. Hoole’s, with Sir Joshua Reynolds. I have neglected the memorial of this evening, so as to remember no more of it than two particulars; one, that he strenuously opposed an argument by Sir Joshua, that virtue was preferable to vice, considering this life only; and that a man would be virtuous were it only to preserve his character: and that he expressed much wonder at the curious formation of the bat, a mouse with wings; saying, that ‘it was almost as strange a thing in physiology, as if the fabulous dragon could be seen.’

  On Tuesday, May 12, I waited on the Earl of Marchmont, to know if his Lordship would favour Dr. Johnson with information concerning Pope, whose Life he was about to write. Johnson had not flattered himself with the hopes of receiving any civility from this nobleman; for he said to me, when I mentioned Lord Marchmont as one who could tell him a great deal about Pope, – ‘Sir, he will tell me nothing.’ I had the honour of being known to his Lordship, and applied to him of myself, without being commissioned by JOHNSON. His Lordship behaved in the most polite and obliging manner, promised to tell all he recollected about Pope, and was so very courteous as to say, ‘Tell Dr. Johnson I have a great respect for him, and am ready to shew it in any way I can. I am to be in the city to-morrow, and will call at his house as I return.’ His Lordship however asked, ‘Will he write the Lives of the Poets impartially? He was the first that brought Whig and Tory into a Dictionary. And what do you think of his definition of Excise? Do you know the history of his aversion to the word transpire?’ Then taking down the folio Dictionary, he shewed it with this censure on its secondary sense: ‘ “To escape from secrecy to notice; a sense lately innovated from France, without necessity.” The truth was Lord Bolingbroke, who left the Jacobites, first used it; therefore, it was to be condemned. He should have shewn what word would do for it, if it was unnecessary.’ I afterwards put the question to Johnson: ‘Why, Sir, (said he,) get abroad.’ BOSWELL. ‘That, Sir, is using two words.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, there is no end of this. You may as well insist to have a word for old age.’ BOSWELL. ‘Well, Sir, Senectus.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, to insist always that there should be one word to express a thing in English, because there is one in another language, is to change the language.’

  I availed myself of this opportunity to hear from his Lordship many particulars both of Pope and Lord Bolingbroke, which I have in writing.

  I proposed to Lord Marchmont that he should revise Johnson’s Life of Pope: ‘So (said his Lordship,) you would put me in a dangerous situation. You know he knocked down Osborne the bookseller.’

  Elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to procure material and respectable aid to Johnson for his very favourite work, The Lives of the Poets, I hastened down to Mr. Thrale’s at Streatham, where he now was, that I might insure his being at home next day; and after dinner, when I thought he would receive the good news in the best humour, I announced it eagerly: ‘I have been at work for you to-day, Sir. I have been with Lord Marchmont. He bade me tell you he has a great respect for you, and will call on you to-morrow at one o’clock, and communicate all he knows about Pope.’ – Here I paused, in full expectation that he would be pleased with this intelligence, would praise my active merit, and would be alert to embrace such an offer from a nobleman. But whether I had shewn an over-exultation, which provoked his spleen; or whether he was seized with a suspicion that I had obtruded him on Lord Marchmont, and had humbled him too much; or whether there was any thing more than an unlucky fit of ill-humour, I know not; but, to my surprize, the result was, – JOHNSON. ‘I shall not be in town to-morrow. I don’t care to know about Pope.’ MRS. THRALE. (surprized as I was, and a little angry) ‘I suppose, Sir, Mr. Boswell thought, that as you are to write Pope’s Life, you would wish to know about him.’ JOHNSON. ‘Wish! why yes. If it rained knowledge I’d hold out my hand; but I would not give myself the trouble to go in quest of it.’ There was no arguing with him at the moment. Some time afterwards he said, ‘Lord Marchmont will call on me, and then I shall call on Lord Marchmont.’ Mr. Thrale was uneasy at his unaccountable caprice; and told me, that if I did not take care to bring about a meeting between Lord Marchmont and him, it would never take place, which would be a great pity. I sent a card to his Lordship, to be left at Johnson’s house, acquainting him, that Dr. Johnson could not be in town next day, but would do himself the honour of waiting on him at another time. I give this account fairly, as a specimen of that unhappy temper with which this great and good man had occasionally to struggle, from something morbid in his constitution. Let the most censorious of
my readers suppose himself to have a violent fit of the tooth-ach, or to have received a severe stroke on the shin-bone, and when in such a state to be asked a question; and if he has any candour, he will not be surprized at the answers which Johnson sometimes gave in moments of irritation, which, let me assure them, is exquisitely painful. But it must not be erroneously supposed that he was, in the smallest degree, careless concerning any work which he undertook, or that he was generally thus peevish. It will be seen, that in the following year he had a very agreeable interview with Lord Marchmont, at his Lordship’s house; and this very afternoon he soon forgot any fretfulness, and fell into conversation as usual.

  I mentioned a reflection having been thrown out against four Peers for having presumed to rise in opposition to the opinion of the twelve Judges, in a cause in the House of Lords, as if that were indecent. JOHNSON. ‘Sir, there is no ground for censure. The Peers are Judges themselves; and supposing them really to be of a different opinion, they might from duty be in opposition to the Judges, who were there only to be consulted.’

  In this observation I fully concurred with him; for, unquestionably, all the Peers are vested with the highest judicial powers; and, when they are confident that they understand a cause, are not obliged, nay ought not to acquiesce in the opinion of the ordinary Law Judges, or even in that of those who from their studies and experience are called the Law Lords. I consider the Peers in general as I do a Jury, who ought to listen with respectful attention to the sages of the law; but, if after hearing them, they have a firm opinion of their own, are bound, as honest men, to decide accordingly. Nor is it so difficult for them to understand even law questions, as is generally thought; provided they will bestow sufficient attention upon them. This observation was made by my honoured relation the late Lord Cathcart, who had spent his life in camps and courts; yet assured me, that he could form a clear opinion upon most of the causes that came before the House of Lords, ‘as they were so well enucleated860 in the Cases.’

  Mrs. Thrale told us, that a curious clergyman861 of our acquaintance had discovered a licentious stanza, which Pope had originally in his Universal Prayer, before the stanza,

  ‘What conscience dictates to be done,

  Or warns us not to do,’ &c.

  It was this: –

  ‘Can sins of moment claim the rod

  Of everlasting fires?

  And that offend great Nature’s God,

  Which Nature’s self inspires?’

  and that Dr. Johnson observed, ‘it had been borrowed from Guarini. There are, indeed, in Pastor Fido, many such flimsy superficial reasonings, as that in the last two lines of this stanza.

  BOSWELL. ‘In that stanza of Pope’s, “rod of fires” is certainly a bad metaphor.’ MRS. THRALE. ‘And “sins of moment” is a faulty expression; for its true import is momentous, which cannot be intended.’ JOHNSON. ‘It must have been written “of moments.” Of moment, is momentous; of moments, momentary. I warrant you, however, Pope wrote this stanza, and some friend struck it out. Boileau wrote some such thing, and Arnaud struck it out, saying, “Vous gagnerez deux ou trois impies, et perdrez je ne scais combien des honnettes gens.”862 These fellows want to say a daring thing, and don’t know how to go about it. Mere poets know no more of fundamental principles than – .’ Here he was interrupted somehow. Mrs. Thrale mentioned Dryden. JOHNSON. ‘He puzzled himself about predestination. – How foolish was it in Pope to give all his friendship to Lords, who thought they honoured him by being with him; and to choose such Lords as Burlington, and Cobham, and Bolingbroke! Bathurst was negative, a pleasing man; and I have heard no ill of Marchmont; and then always saying, “I do not value you for being a Lord;” which was a sure proof that he did. I never say, I do not value Boswell more for being born to an estate, because I do not care.’ BOSWELL. ‘Nor for being a Scotchman?’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, I do value you more for being a Scotchman. You are a Scotchman without the faults of a Scotchman. You would not have been so valuable as you are, had you not been a Scotchman.’

  Talking of divorces, I asked if Othello’s doctrine was not plausible?

  ‘He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stolen,

  Let him not know’t, and he’s not robb’d at all.’863

  Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale joined against this. JOHNSON. ‘Ask any man if he’d wish not to know of such an injury.’ BOSWELL. ‘Would you tell your friend to make him unhappy?’ JOHNSON. ‘Perhaps, Sir, I should not; but that would be from prudence on my own account. A man would tell his father.’ BOSWELL. ‘Yes; because he would not have spurious children to get any share of the family inheritance.’ MRS. THRALE. ‘Or he would tell his brother.’ BOSWELL. ‘Certainly his elder brother.’ JOHNSON. ‘You would tell your friend of a woman’s infamy, to prevent his marrying a whore: there is the same reason to tell him of his wife’s infidelity, when he is married, to prevent the consequences of imposition. It is a breach of confidence not to tell a friend.’ BOSWELL. ‘Would you tell Mr. –?’ (naming a gentleman864 who assuredly was not in the least danger of such a miserable disgrace, though married to a fine woman.) JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir; because it would do no good: he is so sluggish, he’d never go to parliament and get through a divorce.’

  He said of one of our friends,865 ‘He is ruining himself without pleasure. A man who loses at play, or who runs out his fortune at court, makes his estate less, in hopes of making it bigger: (I am sure of this word, which was often used by him:) but it is a sad thing to pass through the quagmire of parsimony, to the gulph of ruin. To pass over the flowery path of extravagance is very well.’

  Amongst the numerous prints pasted on the walls of the dining-room at Streatham, was Hogarth’s ‘Modern Midnight Conversation.’ I asked him what he knew of Parson Ford, who makes a conspicuous figure in the riotous group. JOHNSON. ‘Sir, he was my acquaintance and relation, my mother’s nephew. He had purchased a living in the country, but not simoniacally. I never saw him but in the country. I have been told he was a man of great parts; very profligate, but I never heard he was impious.’ BOSWELL. ‘Was there not a story of his ghost having appeared?’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, it was believed. A waiter at the Hummums,866 in which house Ford died, had been absent for some time, and returned, not knowing that Ford was dead. Going down to the cellar, according to the story, he met him; going down again he met him a second time. When he came up, he asked some of the people of the house what Ford could be doing there. They told him Ford was dead. The waiter took a fever, in which he lay for some time. When he recovered, he said he had a message to deliver to some women from Ford; but he was not to tell what, or to whom. He walked out; he was followed; but somewhere about St. Paul’s they lost him. He came back, and said he had delivered the message, and the women exclaimed, “Then we are all undone!” Dr. Pellet, who was not a credulous man, inquired into the truth of this story, and he said, the evidence was irresistible. My wife went to the Hummums; (it is a place where people get themselves cupped.)867 I believe she went with intention to hear about this story of Ford. At first they were unwilling to tell her; but, after they had talked to her, she came away satisfied that it was true. To be sure the man had a fever; and this vision may have been the beginning of it. But if the message to the women, and their behaviour upon it, were true as related, there was something supernatural. That rests upon his word; and there it remains.’

  After Mrs. Thrale was gone to bed, Johnson and I sat up late. We resumed Sir Joshua Reynolds’s argument on the preceding Sunday, that a man would be virtuous though he had no other motive than to preserve his character. JOHNSON. ‘Sir, it is not true: for as to this world vice does not hurt a man’s character.’ BOSWELL. ‘Yes, Sir, debauching a friend’s wife will.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir. Who thinks the worse of –868 for it?’ BOSWELL. ‘Lord –869 was not his friend.’ JOHNSON. ‘That is only a circumstance, Sir; a slight distinction. He could not get into the house but by Lord –. A man is chosen Knight of the shire, not the less for having debauched ladies.’ BOSWELL.
‘What, Sir, if he debauched the ladies of gentlemen in the county, will not there be a general resentment against him?’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir. He will lose those particular gentlemen; but the rest will not trouble their heads about it.’ (warmly.) BOSWELL. ‘Well, Sir, I cannot think so.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, there is no talking with a man who will dispute what every body knows, (angrily.) Don’t you know this?’ BOSWELL. ‘No, Sir; and I wish to think better of your country than you represent it. I knew in Scotland a gentleman obliged to leave it for debauching a lady; and in one of our counties an Earl’s brother870 lost his election, because he had debauched the lady of another Earl in that county, and destroyed the peace of a noble family.’

  Still he would not yield. He proceeded: ‘Will you not allow, Sir, that vice does not hurt a man’s character so as to obstruct his prosperity in life, when you know that––––––871 was loaded with wealth and honours; a man who had acquired his fortune by such crimes, that his consciousness of them impelled him to cut his own throat.’ BOSWELL. ‘You will recollect, Sir, that Dr. Robertson said, he cut his throat because he was weary of still life; little things not being sufficient to move his great mind.’ JOHNSON. (very angry,) ‘Nay, Sir, what stuff is this! You had no more this opinion after Robertson said it, than before. I know nothing more offensive than repeating what one knows to be foolish things, by way of continuing a dispute, to see what a man will answer, – to make him your butt!’ (angrier still.) BOSWELL. ‘My dear Sir, I had no such intention as you seem to suspect; I had not indeed. Might not this nobleman have felt every thing “weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,”872 as Hamlet says?’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, if you are to bring in gabble, I’ll talk no more. I will not, upon my honour.’ – My readers will decide upon this dispute.