I mentioned Jeremy Taylor’s using, in his forms of prayer, ‘I am the chief of sinners,’ and other such self-condemning expressions. ‘Now, (said I) this cannot be said with truth by every man, and therefore is improper for a general printed form. I myself cannot say that I am the worst of men; I will not say so.’ JOHNSON. ‘A man may know, that physically, that is, in the real state of things, he is not the worst man; but that morally he may be so. Law observes, that “Every man knows something worse of himself, than he is sure of in others.”1167 You may not have committed such crimes as some men have done; but you do not know against what degree of light they have sinned. Besides, Sir, “the chief of sinners” is a mode of expression for “I am a great sinner.” So St. Paul, speaking of our Saviour’s having died to save sinners, says, “of whom I am the chief;”1168 yet he certainly did not think himself so bad as Judas Iscariot.’ BOSWELL. ‘But, Sir, Taylor means it literally, for he founds a conceit upon it. When praying for the conversion of sinners, and of himself in particular, he says, “Lord, thou wilt not leave thy chief work undone.’ JOHNSON. ‘I do not approve of figurative expressions in addressing the Supreme Being; and I never use them. Taylor gives a very good advice: “Never lie in your prayers; never confess more than you really believe; never promise more than you mean to perform.” I recollected this precept in his Golden Grove; but his example for prayer contradicts his precept.’
Dr. Johnson and I went in Dr. Adams’s coach to dine with Dr. Nowell, Principal of St. Mary Hall, at his beautiful villa at Iffley, on the banks of the Isis, about two miles from Oxford. While we were upon the road, I had the resolution to ask Johnson whether he thought that the roughness of his manner had been an advantage or not, and if he would not have done more good if he had been more gentle. I proceeded to answer myself thus: ‘Perhaps it has been of advantage, as it has given weight to what you said: you could not, perhaps, have talked with such authority without it.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir; I have done more good as I am. Obscenity and Impiety have always been repressed in my company.’ BOSWELL. ‘True, Sir; and that is more than can be said of every Bishop. Greater liberties have been taken in the presence of a Bishop, though a very good man, from his being milder, and therefore not commanding such awe. Yet, Sir, many people who might have been benefited by your conversation, have been frightened away. A worthy friend of ours has told me, that he has often been afraid to talk to you.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, he need not have been afraid, if he had any thing rational to say. If he had not, it was better he did not talk.’
Dr. Nowell is celebrated for having preached a sermon before the House of Commons, on the 30th of January, 1772, full of high Tory sentiments, for which he was thanked as usual, and printed it at their request; but, in the midst of that turbulence and faction which disgraced a part of the present reign, the thanks were afterwards ordered to be expunged. This strange conduct sufficiently exposes itself; and Dr. Nowell will ever have the honour which is due to a lofty friend of our monarchical constitution. Dr. Johnson said to me, ‘Sir, the Court will be very much to blame, if he is not promoted.’ I told this to Dr. Nowell, and asserting my humbler, though not less zealous exertions in the same cause, I suggested that whatever return we might receive, we should still have the consolation of being like Butler’s steady and generous Royalist,
‘True as the dial to the sun,
Although it be not shone upon.’1169
We were well entertained and very happy at Dr. Nowell’s, where was a very agreeable company, and we drank ‘Church and King’ after dinner, with true Tory cordiality.
We talked of a certain clergyman1170 of extraordinary character, who by exerting his talents in writing on temporary topicks, and displaying uncommon intrepidity, had raised himself to affluence. I maintained that we ought not to be indignant at his success; for merit of every sort was entitled to reward. Johnson. ‘Sir, I will not allow this man to have merit. No, Sir; what he has is rather the contrary; I will, indeed, allow him courage, and on this account we so far give him credit. We have more respect for a man who robs boldly on the highway, than for a fellow who jumps out of a ditch, and knocks you down behind your back. Courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is always respected, even when it is associated with vice.’
I censured the coarse invectives which were become fashionable in the House of Commons, and said that if members of parliament must attack each other personally in the heat of debate, it should be done more genteely. Johnson. ‘No, Sir; that would be much worse. Abuse is not so dangerous when there is no vehicle of wit or delicacy, no subtle conveyance. The difference between coarse and refined abuse is as the difference between being bruised by a club, and wounded by a poisoned arrow.’ I have since observed his position elegantly expressed by Dr. Young: –
‘As the soft plume gives swiftness to the dart,
Good breeding sends the satire to the heart.’1171
On Saturday, June 12, there drank tea with us at Dr. Adams’s, Mr. John Henderson, student of Pembroke College, celebrated for his wonderful acquirements in Alchymy, Judicial Astrology, and other abstruse and curious learning;a and the Reverend Herbert Croft, who, I am afraid, was somewhat mortified by Dr. Johnson’s not being highly pleased with some Family Discourses, which he had printed; they were in too familiar a style to be approved of by so manly a mind. I have no note of this evening’s conversation, except a single fragment. When I mentioned Thomas Lord Lyttelton’s vision, the prediction of the time of his death, and its exact fulfilment; – Johnson. ‘It is the most extraordinary thing that has happened in my day. I heard it with my own ears, from his uncle, Lord Westcote. I am so glad to have every evidence of the spiritual world, that I am willing to believe it.’ Dr. Adams. ‘You have evidence enough; good evidence, which needs not such support.’ JOHNSON. ‘I like to have more.’
Mr. Henderson, with whom I had sauntered in the venerable walks of Merton-College, and found him a very learned and pious man, supt with us. Dr. Johnson surprised him not a little, by acknowledging with a look of horrour, that he was much oppressed by the fear of death. The amiable Dr. Adams suggested that God was infinitely good. JOHNSON. ‘That he is infinitely good, as far as the perfection of his nature will allow, I certainly believe; but it is necessary for good upon the whole, that individuals should be punished. As to an individual, therefore, he is not infinitely good; and as I cannot be sure that I have fulfilled the conditions on which salvation is granted, I am afraid I may be one of those who shall be damned.’ (looking dismally.) DR. ADAMS. ‘What do you mean by damned?’ Johnson. (passionately and loudly) ‘Sent to Hell, Sir, and punished everlastingly.’ DR. ADAMS. ‘I don’t believe that doctrine.’ JOHNSON. ‘Hold, Sir; do you believe that some will be punished at all?’ DR. ADAMS. ‘Being excluded from Heaven will be a punishment; yet there may be no great positive suffering.’ JOHNSON. ‘Well, Sir; but, if you admit any degree of punishment, there is an end of your argument for infinite goodness simply considered; for, infinite goodness would inflict no punishment whatever. There is not infinite goodness physically considered; morally there is.’ BOSWELL. ‘But may not a man attain to such a degree of hope as not to be uneasy from the fear of death?’ JOHNSON. ‘A man may have such a degree of hope as to keep him quiet. You see I am not quiet, from the vehemence with which I talk; but I do not despair.’ MRS. ADAMS. ‘You seem, Sir, to forget the merits of our Redeemer.’ JOHNSON. ‘Madam, I do not forget the merits of my Redeemer; but my Redeemer has said that he will set some on his right hand and some on his left.’1172 He was in gloomy agitation, and said, ‘I’ll have no more on’t.’ If what has now been stated should be urged by the enemies of Christianity, as if its influence on the mind were not benignant, let it be remembered, that Johnson’s temperament was melancholy, of which such direful apprehensions of futurity are often a common effect. We shall presently see that when he approached nearer to his aweful change, his mind became tranquil, and he exhibited as much fortitude as becomes a thinking man in that
situation.
From the subject of death we passed to discourse of life, whether it was upon the whole more happy or miserable. Johnson was decidedly for the balance of misery:a in confirmation of which I maintained, that no man would choose to lead over again the life which he had experienced. Johnson acceded to that opinion in the strongest terms. This is an inquiry often made; and its being a subject of disquisition is a proof that much misery presses upon human feelings; for those who are conscious of a felicity of existence, would never hesitate to accept of a repetition of it. I have met with very few who would. I have heard Mr. Burke make use of a very ingenious and plausible argument on this subject; – ‘Every man (said he,) would lead his life over again; for, every man is willing to go on and take an addition to his life, which, as he grows older, he has no reason to think will be better, or even so good as what has preceded.’ I imagine, however, the truth is, that there is a deceitful hope that the next part of life will be free from the pains, and anxieties, and sorrows, which we have already felt. We are for wise purposes ‘Condemn’d to Hope’s delusive mine;’1178 as Johnson finely says; and I may also quote the celebrated lines of Dryden, equally philosophical and poetical: –
‘When I consider life, ’tis all a cheat,
Yet fool’d with hope, men favour the deceit:
Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay;
To-morrow’s falser than the former day; Lies worse; and while it says we shall be blest
With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
Strange cozenage! none would live past years again;
Yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain;
And from the dregs of life think to receive,
What the first sprightly running could not give.’a
It was observed to Dr. Johnson, that it seemed strange that he, who has so often delighted his company by his lively and brilliant conversation, should sayhewas miserable. Johnson. ‘Alas!it is all outside; I maybecracking my joke, and cursing the sun. Sun, how I hate thy beams!’1180 I knew not well what to think of this declaration; whether to hold it as a genuine picture of his mind,b or as the effect of his persuading himself contrary to fact, that the position whichhe had assumedas to human unhappiness, was true. We may apply to him a sentence in Mr. Greville’s Maxims, Characters, and Reflections;c a book which is entitled to much more praise than it has received: ‘Aristarchus is charming: how full of knowledge, of sense, of sentiment. You get him with difficulty to your supper; and after having delighted every body and himself for a few hours, he is obliged to return home; – he is finishing his treatise, to prove that unhappiness is the portion of man.’
On Sunday, June 13, our philosopher was calm at breakfast. There was something exceedingly pleasing in our leading a College life, without restraint, and with superiour elegance, in consequence of our living in the Master’s house, and having the company of ladies. Mrs. Kennicot related, in his presence, a lively saying of Dr. Johnson to Miss Hannah More, who had expressed a wonder that the poet who had written Paradise Lost should write such poor Sonnets: – ‘Milton, Madam, was a genius that could cut a Colossus from a rock; but could not carve heads upon cherry-stones.’
We talked of the casuistical question, Whether it was allowable at any time to depart from Truth? Johnson. ‘The general rule is, that Truth should never be violated, because it is of the utmost importance to the comfort of life, that we should have a full security by mutual faith; and occasional inconveniencies should be willingly suffered that we may preserve it. There must, however, be some exceptions. If, for instance, a murderer should ask you which way a man is gone, you may tell him what is not true, because you are under a previous obligation not to betray a man to a murderer.’ BOSWELL. ‘Supposing the person who wrote Junius were asked whether he was the authour, might he deny it?’ JOHNSON. ‘I don’t know what to say to this. If you were sure that he wrote Junius, would you, if he denied it, think as well of him afterwards? Yet it may be urged, that what a man has no right to ask, you may refuse to communicate; and there is no other effectual mode of preserving a secret, and an important secret, the discovery of which may be very hurtful to you, but a flat denial; for if you are silent, or hesitate, or evade, it will be held equivalent to a confession. But stay, Sir; here is another case. Supposing the authour had told me confidentially that he had written Junius, and I were asked if he had, I should hold myself at liberty to deny it, as being under a previous promise, express or implied, to conceal it. Now what I ought to do for the authour, may I not do for myself? But I deny the lawfulness of telling a lie to a sick man for fear of alarming him. You have no business with consequences; you aretotell the truth. Besides, you are not sure what effect your telling him that heis indanger may have. It may bring his distemper to a crisis, and that may cure him. Of all lying, I have the greatest abhorrence of this, because I believe it has been frequently practised on myself.’
I cannot help thinking that there is much weight in the opinion of those who have held, that Truth, as an eternal and immutable principle, ought, upon no account whatever, to be violated, from supposed previous or superiour obligations, of which every man being to judge for himself, there is great danger that we may too often, from partial motives, persuade ourselves that they exist; and probably whatever extraordinary instances may sometimes occur, where some evil may be prevented by violating this noble principle, it would be found that human happiness would, upon the whole, be more perfect were Truth universally preserved.
In the notes to the Dunciad, we find the following verses, addressed to Pope: –a
‘While malice, Pope, denies thy page
Its own celestial fire;
While criticks, and while bards in rage
Admiring, won’t admire:
While wayward pens thy worth assail,
And envious tongues decry;
These times, though many a friend bewail,
These times bewail not I.
But when the world’s loud praise is thine,
And spleen no more shall blame;
When with thy Homer thou shalt shine
In one establish’d fame!
When none shall rail, and every lay
Devote a wreath to thee:
That day (for come it will) that day
Shall I lament to see.’1181
It is surely not a little remarkable, that they should appear without a name. Miss Seward, knowing Dr. Johnson’s almost universal and minute literary information, signified a desire that I should ask him who was the authour. He was prompt with his answer: ‘Why, Sir, they were written by one Lewis, who was either under-master or an usher of Westminster-school, and published a Miscellany, in which Grongar Hill1182 first came out.’a Johnson praised them highly, and repeated them with a noble animation. In the twelfth line, instead of ‘one establish’d fame,’ he repeated ‘one unclouded flame,’ which he thought was the reading in former editions: but I believe was a flash of his own genius. It is much more poetical than the other.
On Monday, June 14, and Tuesday, 15, Dr. Johnson and I dined, on one of them, I forget which, with Mr. Mickle, translator of the Lusiad, at Wheatley, a very pretty country place a few miles from Oxford; and on the other with Dr. Wetherell, Master of University College. From Dr. Wetherell’s he went to visit Mr. Sackville Parker, the bookseller; and when he returned to us, gave the following account of his visit, saying, ‘I have been to see my old friend, Sack. Parker; I find he has married his maid; he has done right. She had lived with him many years in great confidence, and they had mingled minds: I do not think he could have found any wife that would have made him so happy. The woman was very attentive and civil to me; she pressed me to fix a day for dining with them, and to say what I liked, and she would be sure to get it for me. Poor Sack! He is very ill, indeed. We parted as never to meet again. It has quite broke me down.’ This pathetic narrative was strangely diversified with the grave and earnest defence of a man’s having married his maid. I could not but feel it as
in some degree ludicrous.
In the morning of Tuesday, June 15, while we sat at Dr. Adams’s, we talked of a printed letter from the Reverend Herbert Croft, to a young gentleman who had been his pupil, in which he advised him to read to the end of whatever books he should begin to read. Johnson. ‘This is surely a strange advice; you may as well resolve that whatever men you happen to get acquainted with, you are to keep to them for life. A book may be good for nothing; or there may be only one thing in it worth knowing; are we to read it all through? These Voyages, (pointing to the three large volumes of Voyages to the South Sea,1183 which were just come out) who will read them through? A man had better work his way before the mast, than read them through; they will be eaten by rats and mice, before they are read through. There can be little entertainment in such books; one set of Savages is like another.’ Bo swell. ‘I do not think the people of Otaheite can be reckoned Savages.’ JOHNSON. ‘Don’t cant in defence of Savages.’ BOSWELL. ‘They have the art of navigation.’ JOHNSON. ‘A dog or a cat can swim.’ BOSWELL. ‘They carve very ingeniously.’ JOHNSON. ‘A cat can scratch, and a child with a nail can scratch.’ I perceived this was none of the mollia tempora fandi;1184 so desisted.
The Life of Samuel Johnson Page 140
