When I observed that a housebreaker was in general very timorous; JOHNSON. ‘No wonder, Sir; he is afraid of being shot getting into a house, or hanged when he has got out of it.’
He told us, that he had in one day written six sheets of a translation from the French, adding, ‘I should be glad to see it now. I wish that I had copies of all the pamphlets written against me, as it is said Pope had. Had I known that I should make so much noise in the world, I should have been at pains to collect them. I believe there is hardly a day in which there is not something about me in the newspapers.’
On Monday, June 4, we all went to Luton-Hoe, to see Lord Bute’s magnificent seat, for which I had obtained a ticket. As we entered the park, I talked in a high style of my old friendship with Lord Mountstuart, and said, ‘I shall probably be much at this place.’ The Sage, aware of human vicissitudes, gently checked me: ‘Don’t you be too sure of that.’ He made two or three peculiar observations; as when shewn the botanical garden, ‘Is not every garden a botanical garden?’ When told that there was a shrubbery to the extent of several miles: ‘That is making a very foolish use of the ground; a little of it is very well.’ When it was proposed that we should walk on the pleasure-ground; ‘Don’t let us fatigue ourselves. Why should we walk there? Here’s a fine tree, let’s get to the top of it.’ But upon the whole, he was very much pleased. He said, ‘This is one of the places I do not regret having come to see. It is a very stately place, indeed; in the house magnificence is not sacrificed to convenience, nor convenience to magnificence. The library is very splendid: the dignity of the rooms is very great; and the quantity of pictures is beyond expectation, beyond hope.’
It happened without any previous concert, that we visited the seat of Lord Bute upon the King’s birth-day; we dined and drank his Majesty’s health at an inn, in the village of Luton.
In the evening I put him in mind of his promise to favour me with a copy of his celebrated Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield, and he was at last pleased to comply with this earnest request, by dictating it to me from his memory; for he believed that he himself had no copy. There was an animated glow in his countenance while he thus recalled his high-minded indignation.
He laughed heartily at a ludicrous action in the Court of Session, in which I was Counsel. The Society of Procurators, or Attornies, entitled to practise in the inferiour courts at Edinburgh, had obtained a royal charter, in which they had taken care to have their ancient designation of Procurators changed into that of Solicitors, from a notion, as they supposed, that it was more genteel; and this new title they displayed by a publick advertisement for a General Meeting at their HALL.
It has been said, that the Scottish nation is not distinguished for humour; and, indeed, what happened on this occasion may in some degree justify the remark: for although this society had contrived to make themselves a very prominent object for the ridicule of such as might stoop to it, the only joke to which it gave rise, was the following paragraph, sent to the newspaper called The Caledonian Mercury: –
‘A correspondent informs us, that the Worshipful Society of Chaldeans, Cadies, or Running Stationers of this city are resolved, in imitation, and encouraged by the singular success of their brethren, of an equally respectable Society, to apply for a Charter of their Privileges, particularly of the sole privilege of PROCURING, in the most extensive sense of the word, exclusive of chairmen, porters, penny-post men, and other inferiour ranks; their brethren the R–Y–L S–LL–RS, alias P-C-RS, before the INFERIOUR Courts of this City, always excepted.
‘Should the Worshipful Society be successful, they are farther resolved not to be puffed up thereby, but to demean themselves with more equanimity and decency than their R-y-l, learned, and very modest brethren above mentioned have done, upon their late dignification and exaltation.’
A majority of the members of the Society prosecuted Mr. Robertson, the publisher of the paper, for damages; and the first judgement of the whole Court very wisely dismissed the action: Solventur risu tabulæ, tu missus abibis.1057 But a new trial or review was granted upon a petition, according to the forms in Scotland. This petition I was engaged to answer, and Dr. Johnson with great alacrity furnished me this evening with what follows: –
‘All injury is either of the person, the fortune, or the fame. Now it is a certain thing, it is proverbially known, that a jest breaks no bones. They never have gained half-a-crown less in the whole profession since this mischievous paragraph has appeared; and, as to their reputation, What is their reputation but an instrument of getting money? If, therefore, they have lost no money, the question upon reputation may be answered by a very old position, –De minimis non curat Pr&tor.1058
‘Whether there was, or was not, an animus injuriandi,1059 is not worth inquiring, if no injuria can be proved. But the truth is, there was no animus injuriandi. It was only an animus irritandi,a1060 which, happening to be exercised upon a genus irritabile,1061 produced unexpected violence of resentment. Their irritability arose only from an opinion of their own importance, and their delight in their new exaltation. What might have been borne by a Procurator could not be borne by a Solicitor. Your Lordships well know, that honores mutant mores.1062 Titles and dignities play strongly upon the fancy. As a madman is apt to think himself grown suddenly great, so he that grows suddenly great is apt to borrow a little from the madman. To co-operate with their resentment would be to promote their phrenzy; nor is it possible to guess to what they might proceed, if to the new title of Solicitor, should be added the elation of victory and triumph.
‘We consider your Lordships as the protectors of our rights, and the guardians of our virtues; but believe it not included in your high office, that you should flatter our vices, or solace our vanity: and, as vanity only dictates this prosecution, it is humbly hoped your Lordships will dismiss it.
‘If every attempt, however light or ludicrous, to lessen another’s reputation, is to be punished by a judicial sentence, what punishment can be sufficiently severe for him who attempts to diminish the reputation of the Supreme Court of Justice, by reclaiming upon a cause already determined, without any change in the state of the question? Does it not imply hopes that the Judges will change their opinion? Is not uncertainty and inconstancy in the highest degree disreputable to a Court? Does it not suppose, that the former judgement was temerarious or negligent? Does it not lessen the confidence of the publick? Will it not be said, that jus est aut incognitum aut vagum? and will not the consequence be drawn, misera est servitus?1063Will not the rules of action be obscure? Will not he who knows himself wrong to-day, hope that the Courts of Justice will think him right tomorrow? Surely, my Lords, these are attempts of dangerous tendency, which the Solicitors, as men versed in the law, should have foreseen and avoided. It was natural for an ignorant printer to appeal from the Lord Ordinary; but from lawyers, the descendants of lawyers, who have practised for three hundred years, and have now raised themselves to a higher denomination, it might be expected, that they should know the reverence due to a judicial determination; and, having been once dismissed, should sit down in silence.’
I am ashamed to mention, that the Court, by a plurality of voices, without having a single additional circumstance before them, reversed their own judgement, made a serious matter of this dull and foolish joke, and adjudged Mr. Robertson to pay to the Society five pounds (sterling money) and costs of suit. The decision will seem strange to English lawyers.
On Tuesday, June 5, Johnson was to return to London. He was very pleasant at breakfast; I mentioned a friend of mine1064 having resolved never to marry a pretty woman. Johnson. ‘Sir, it is a very foolish resolution to resolve not to marry a pretty woman. Beauty is of itself very estimable. No, Sir, I would prefer a pretty woman, unless there are objections to her. A pretty woman may be foolish; a pretty woman may be wicked; a pretty woman may not like me. But there is no such danger in marrying a pretty woman as is apprehended: she will not be persecuted if she does not invite persecution. A pre
tty woman, if she has a mind to be wicked, can find a readier way than another; and that is all.’
I accompanied him in Mr. Dilly’s chaise to Shefford, where talking of Lord Bute’s never going to Scotland, he said, ‘As an Englishman, I should wish all the Scotch gentlemen to be educated in England; Scotland would become a province; they would spend all their rents in England.’ This is a subject of much consequence, and much delicacy. The advantage of an English education is unquestionably very great to Scotch gentlemen of talents and ambition; and regular visits to Scotland, and perhaps other means, might be effectually used to prevent them from being totally estranged from their native country, any more than a Cumberland or Northumberland gentleman who has been educated in the South of England. I own, indeed, that it is no small misfortune for Scotch gentlemen, who have neither talents nor ambition, to be educated in England, where they may be perhaps distinguished only by a nick-name, lavish their fortune in giving expensive entertainments to those who laugh at them, and saunter about as mere idle insignificant hangers on even upon the foolish great; when if they had been judiciously brought up at home, they might have been comfortable and creditable members of society.
At Shefford, I had another affectionate parting from my revered friend, who was taken up by the Bedford coach and carried to the metropolis. I went with Messieurs Dilly, to see some friends at Bedford; dined with the officers of the militia of the county, and next day proceeded on my journey.
‘To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR, – How welcome your account of yourself and your invitation to your new house was to me, I need not tell you, who consider our friendship not only as formed by choice, but as matured by time. We have been now long enough acquainted to have many images in common; and, therefore, to have a source of conversation which neither the learning nor the wit of a new companion can supply.
‘My Lives are now published; and if you will tell me whither I shall send them, that they may come to you, I will take care that you shall not be without them.
‘You will, perhaps, be glad to hear, that Mrs. Thrale is disencumbered of her brewhouse; and that it seemed to the purchaser so far from an evil, that he was content to give for it an hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds. Is the nation ruined?
‘Please to make my respectful compliments to Lady Rothes, and keep me in the memory of all the little dear family, particularly pretty Mrs. Jane. I am, Sir, your affectionate humble servant,
‘Bolt-Court, June 16, 1781.’ ‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
Johnson’s charity to the poor was uniform and extensive, both from inclination and principle. He not only bestowed liberally out of his own purse, but what is more difficult as well as rare, would beg from others, when he had proper objects in view. This he did judiciously as well as humanely. Mr. Philip Metcalfe tells me, that when he has asked him for some money for persons in distress, and Mr. Metcalfe has offered what Johnson thought too much, he insisted on taking less, saying, ‘No, no, Sir; we must not pamper them.’
I am indebted to Mr. Malone, one of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s executors, for the following note, which was found among his papers after his death, and which, we may presume, his unaffected modesty prevented him from communicating to me with the other letters from Dr. Johnson with which he was pleased to furnish me. However slight in itself, as it does honour to that illustrious painter, and most amiable man, I am happy to introduce it.
‘To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS
‘DEAR SIR, – It was not before yesterday that I received your splendid benefaction. To a hand so liberal in distributing, I hope nobody will envy the power of acquiring. I am, dear Sir, your obliged and most humble servant,
June 23, 1781.’ ‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘To THOMAS ASTLE, ESQ.
‘SIR, – I am ashamed that you have been forced to call so often for your books, but it has been by no fault on either side. They have never been out of my hands, nor have I ever been at home without seeing you; for to see a man so skilful in the antiquities of my country, is an opportunity of improvement not willingly to be missed.
Your notes on Alfreda appear to me very judicious and accurate, but they are too few. Many things familiar to you, are unknown to me, and to most others; and you must not think too favourably of your readers: by supposing them knowing, you will leave them ignorant. Measure of land, and value of money, it is of great importance to state with care. Had the Saxons any gold coin?
‘I have much curiosity after the manners and transactions of the middle ages, but have wanted either diligence or opportunity, or both. You, Sir, have great opportunities, and I wish you both diligence and success. I am, Sir, &c.,
July 17, 1781.’ ‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
The following curious anecdote I insert in Dr. Burney’s own words:-
‘Dr. Burney related to Dr. Johnson the partiality which his writings had excited in a friend of Dr. Burney’s, the late Mr. Bewley, well known in Norfolk by the name of the Philosopher of Massingham: who, from the Ramblers and Plan of his Dictionary, and long before the authour’s fame was established by the Dictionary itself, or any other work, had conceived such a reverence for him, that he urgently begged Dr. Burney to give him the cover of the first letter he had received from him, as a relick of so estimable a writer. This was in 1755. In 1760, when Dr. Burney visited Dr. Johnson at the Temple in London, where he had then chambers, he happened to arrive there before he was up; and being shewn into the room where he was to breakfast, finding himself alone, he examined the contents of the apartment, to try whether he could undiscovered steal anything to send to his friend Bewley, as another relick of the admirable Dr. Johnson. But finding nothing better to his purpose, he cut some bristles off his hearth-broom, and enclosed them in a letter to his country enthusiast, who received them with due reverence. The Doctor was so sensible of the honour done him by a man of genius and science, to whom he was an utter stranger, that he said to Dr. Burney, “Sir, there is no man possessed of the smallest portion of modesty, but must be flattered with the admiration of such a man. I’ll give him a set of my Lives, if he will do me the honour to accept of them.” In this he kept his word; and Dr. Burney had not only the pleasure of gratifying his friend with a present more worthy of his acceptance than the segment from the hearth-broom, but soon after of introducing him to Dr. Johnson himself in Bolt-court, with whom he had the satisfaction of conversing a considerable time, not a fortnight before his death; which happened in St. Martin’s-street, during his visit to Dr. Burney, in the house where the great Sir Isaac Newton had lived and died before.’
In one of his little memorandum-books is the following minute: –
‘August 9, 3 P.M. ætat. 72, in the summer-house at Streatham.
‘After innumerable resolutions formed and neglected, I have retired hither, to plan a life of greater diligence, in hope that I may yet be useful, and be daily better prepared to appear before my Creator and my Judge, from whose infinite mercy I humbly call for assistance and support.
‘My purpose is,
‘To pass eight hours every day in some serious employment.
‘Having prayed, I purpose to employ the next six weeks upon the Italian language, for my settled study.’
How venerably pious does he appear in these moments of solitude, and how spirited are his resolutions for the improvement of his mind, even in elegant literature, at a very advanced period of life, and when afflicted with many complaints.
In autumn he went to Oxford, Birmingham, Lichfield, and Ashbourne, for which very good reasons might be given in the conjectural yet positive manner of writers, who are proud to account for every event which they relate. He himself, however, says, ‘The motives of my journey I hardly know; I omitted it last year, and am not willing to miss it again.’a
But some good considerations arise, amongst which is the kindly recollection of Mr. Hector, surgeon, at Birmingham. ‘Hector is likewise an old friend, the only companion of my childhood that passed through the school with me. We have
always loved one another; perhaps we may be made better by some serious conversation, of which however I have no distinct hope.’ He says too, ‘At Lichfield, my native place, I hope to shew a good example by frequent attendance on publick worship.’
My correspondence with him during the rest of this year was, I know not why, very scanty, and all on my side. I wrote him one letter to introduce Mr. Sinclair (now Sir John), the member for Caithness, to his acquaintance; and informed him in another that my wife had again been affected with alarming symptoms of illness.
1782: ætat. 73.] – IN 1782, his complaints increased, and the history of his life this year, is little more than a mournful recital of the variations of his illness, in the midst of which, however, it will appear from his letters, that the powers of his mind were in no degree impaired.
‘To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘DEAR SIR, – I sit down to answer your letter on the same day in which I received it, and am pleased that my first letter of the year is to you. No man ought to be at ease while he knows himself in the wrong; and I have not satisfied myself with my long silence. The letter relating to Mr. Sinclair, however, was, I believe, never brought.
‘My health has been tottering this last year; and I can give no very laudable account of my time. I am always hoping to do better than I have ever hitherto done.
‘My journey to Ashbourne and Staffordshire was not pleasant; for what enjoyment has a sick man visiting the sick? – Shall we ever have another frolick like our journey to the Hebrides?
‘I hope that dear Mrs. Boswell will surmount her complaints; in losing her you would lose your anchor, and be tost, without stability, by the waves of life.a I wish both her and you very many years, and very happy.
The Life of Samuel Johnson Page 127
