content to live in the country.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is in the
intellectual world as in the physical world; we are told by natural
philosophers that a body is at rest in the place that is fit for it;
they who are content to live in the country, are _fit_ for the country.'
Talking of various enjoyments, I argued that a refinement of taste was a
disadvantage, as they who have attained to it must be seldomer pleased
than those who have no nice discrimination, and are therefore satisfied
with every thing that comes in their way. JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; that is a
paltry notion. Endeavour to be as perfect as you can in every respect.'
I accompanied him in Sir Joshua Reynolds's coach, to the entry of
Bolt-court. He asked me whether I would not go with him to his house; I
declined it, from an apprehension that my spirits would sink. We bade
adieu to each other affectionately in the carriage. When he had got down
upon the foot-pavement, he called out, 'Fare you well;' and without
looking back, sprung away with a kind of pathetick briskness, if I may
use that expression, which seemed to indicate a struggle to conceal
uneasiness, and impressed me with a foreboding of our long, long
separation.
I remained one day more in town, to have the chance of talking over my
negociation with the Lord Chancellor; but the multiplicity of his
Lordship's important engagements did not allow of it; so I left the
management of the business in the hands of Sir Joshua Reynolds.
Soon after this time Dr. Johnson had the mortification of being informed
by Mrs. Thrale, that, 'what she supposed he never believed[1044],' was
true; namely, that she was actually going to marry Signor Piozzi, an
Italian musick-master[1045]. He endeavoured to prevent it; but in vain.
If she would publish the whole of the correspondence that passed between
Dr. Johnson and her on the subject, we should have a full view of his
real sentiments. As it is, our judgement must be biassed by that
characteristick specimen which Sir John Hawkins has given us: 'Poor
Thrale! I thought that either her virtue or her vice would have
restrained her from such a marriage. She is now become a subject for her
enemies to exult over; and for her friends, if she has any left, to
forget, or pity[1046].'
It must be admitted that Johnson derived a considerable portion of
happiness from the comforts and elegancies which he enjoyed in Mr.
Thrale's family[1047]; but Mrs. Thrale assures us he was indebted for
these to her husband alone, who certainly respected him sincerely. Her
words are,--
'_Veneration for his virtue, reverence for his talents_, delight _in his
conversation, and_ habitual endurance of a yoke my husband first put
upon me, _and of which he contentedly bore his share for sixteen or
seventeen years, made me go on so long with_ Mr. Johnson; _but the
perpetual confinement I will own to have been_ terrifying _in the first
years of our friendship, and_ irksome _in the last; nor could I pretend
to support _it without help, when my coadjutor was no more_[1048].'
Alas! how different is this from the declarations which I have heard
Mrs. Thrale make in his life-time, without a single murmur against any
peculiarities, or against any one circumstance which attended their
intimacy[1049].
As a sincere friend of the great man whose _Life_ I am writing, I think
it necessary to guard my readers against the mistaken notion of Dr.
Johnson's character, which this lady's _Anecdotes_ of him suggest; for
from the very nature and form of her book, 'it lends deception lighter
wings to fly'.[1050]
'Let it be remembered, (says an eminent critick[1051],) that she has
comprised in a small volume all that she could recollect of Dr. Johnson
in _twenty years_, during which period, doubtless, some severe things
were said by him; and they who read the book in _two hours_, naturally
enough suppose that his whole conversation was of this complexion. But
the fact is, I have been often in his company, and never _once_ heard
him say a severe thing to any one; and many others can attest the
same[1052]. When he did say a severe thing, it was generally extorted by
ignorance pretending to knowledge, or by extreme vanity or affectation.
'Two instances of inaccuracy, (adds he,) are peculiarly worthy of
notice:
'It is said, _"That natural[1053] roughness of his manner so often
mentioned, would, notwithstanding the regularity of his notions, burst
through them all from time to time; and he once bade a very celebrated
lady, who praised him with too much zeal perhaps, or perhaps too strong
an emphasis, (which always offended him,) consider what her flattery was
worth, before she choaked him with it."_
'Now let the genuine anecdote be contrasted with this. The person thus
represented as being harshly treated, though a very celebrated
lady[1054], was _then_ just come to London from an obscure situation in
the country. At Sir Joshua Reynolds's one evening, she met Dr. Johnson.
She very soon began to pay her court to him in the most fulsome strain.
"Spare me, I beseech you, dear Madam," was his reply. She still _laid it
on_. "Pray, Madam, let us have no more of this;" he rejoined. Not paying
any attention to these warnings, she continued still her eulogy. At
length, provoked by this indelicate and vain obtrusion of compliment, he
exclaimed, "Dearest lady, consider with yourself what your flattery is
worth, before you bestow it so freely[1055]."
'How different does this story appear, when accompanied with all these
circumstances which really belong to it, but which Mrs. Thrale either
did not know, or has suppressed.
'She says, in another place[1056], _"One gentleman, however, who dined
at a nobleman's house in his company, and that of_ Mr. Thrale, _to whom
I was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to enter the lists in
defence of_ King William's _character; and having opposed and
contradicted_ Johnson _two or three times, petulantly enough, the master
of the house began to feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences;
to avoid which, he said, loud enough for the Doctor to hear,--'Our
friend here has no meaning now in all this, except just to relate at
club to-morrow how he teized_ Johnson _at dinner to-day; this is all to
do himself_ honour.' _No, upon my word, (replied the other,') I see no_
honour _in it, whatever you may do. Well, Sir, (returned_ Mr. Johnson,
_sternly,) if you do not_ see _the honour, I am sure I_ feel _the
disgrace_."
'This is all sophisticated. Mr. Thrale was _not_ in the company, though
he might have related the story to Mrs. Thrale. A friend, from whom I
had the story, was present; and it was _not_ at the house of a nobleman.
On the observation being made by the master of the house on a
gentleman's contradicting Johnson, that he had talked for the honour,
&c., the gentleman muttered in a low voice, "I see no honour in it;" and
Dr. Johnson said nothing: so all the rest, (though _bien trouvee_) is
mere garnish.'
I have had occasion several times, in the course of this work, to point
out the incorrectness of Mrs. Thrale, as to particulars which consisted
with my own knowledge[1057]. But indeed she has, in flippant terms
enough, expressed her disapprobation of that anxious desire of
authenticity which prompts a person who is to record conversations, to
write them down _at the moment_[1058]. Unquestionably, if they are to be
recorded at all, the sooner it is done the better. This lady herself
says[1059],--
_'To recollect, however, and to repeat the sayings of_ Dr. Johnson, _is
almost all that can be done by the writers of his Life; as his life, at
least since my acquaintance with him, consisted in little else than
talking, when he was not [absolutely] employed in some serious piece
of work.'_
She boasts of her having kept a common-place book[1060]; and we find she
noted, at one time or other, in a very lively manner, specimens of the
conversation of Dr. Johnson, and of those who talked with him; but had
she done it recently, they probably would have been less erroneous; and
we should have been relieved from those disagreeable doubts of their
authenticity, with which we must now peruse them.
She says of him[1061],--
_'He was the most charitable of mortals, without being what we call an_
active friend. _Admirable at giving counsel; no man saw his way so
clearly; but he_ would not stir a finger _for the assistance of those to
whom he was willing enough to give advice.'_ And again on the same page,
_'If you wanted a slight favour, you must apply to people of other
dispositions; for_ not a step would Johnson move _to obtain a man a vote
in a society, to repay a compliment which might be useful or pleasing,
to write a letter of request, &c., or to obtain a hundred pounds a year
more for a friend who, perhaps, had already two or three. No force could
urge him to diligence, no importunity could conquer his resolution to
stand still.'_
It is amazing that one who had such opportunities of knowing Dr.
Johnson, should appear so little acquainted with his real character. I
am sorry this lady does not advert, that she herself contradicts the
assertion of his being obstinately defective in the _petites morales_,
in the little endearing charities of social life, in conferring smaller
favours; for she says[1062],--
'Dr. Johnson _was liberal enough in granting literary assistance to
others, I think; and innumerable are the Prefaces, Sermons, Lectures,
and Dedications which he used to make for people who begged of him._'
I am certain that a _more active friend_ has rarely been found in any
age[1063]. This work, which I fondly hope will rescue his memory from
obloquy, contains a thousand instances of his benevolent exertions in
almost every way that can be conceived; and particularly in employing
his pen with a generous readiness for those to whom its aid could be
useful. Indeed his obliging activity in doing little offices of
kindness, both by letters and personal application, was one of the most
remarkable features in his character; and for the truth of this I can
appeal to a number of his respectable friends: Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr.
Langton, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Burke, Mr. Windham, Mr. Malone, the Bishop of
Dromore, Sir William Scott, Sir Robert Chambers. And can Mrs. Thrale
forget the advertisements which he wrote for her husband at the time of
his election contest[1064]; the epitaphs on him and her mother[1065];
the playful and even trifling verses, for the amusement of her and her
daughters; his corresponding with her children[1066], and entering into
their minute concerns[1067], which shews him in the most amiable light?
She relates[1068],--
That Mr. Ch-lm-ley unexpectedly rode up to Mr. Thrale's carriage, in
which Mr. Thrale and she, and Dr. Johnson were travelling; that he paid
them all his proper compliments, but observing that Dr. Johnson, who was
reading, did not see him, _'tapt him gently on the shoulder. "'Tis_ Mr.
Ch-lm-ley;" _says my husband. "Well, Sir--and what if it is_ Mr.
Ch-lm-ley;" _says the other, sternly, just lifting his eyes a moment
from his book, and returning to it again, with renewed avidity.'_
This surely conveys a notion of Johnson, as if he had been grossly rude
to Mr. Cholmondeley[1069], a gentleman whom he always loved and
esteemed. If, therefore, there was an absolute necessity for mentioning
the story at all, it might have been thought that her tenderness for Dr.
Johnson's character would have disposed her to state any thing that
could soften it. Why then is there a total silence as to what Mr.
Cholmondeley told her?--that Johnson, who had known him from his
earliest years, having been made sensible of what had doubtless a
strange appearance, took occasion, when he afterwards met him, to make a
very courteous and kind apology. There is another little circumstance
which I cannot but remark. Her book was published in 1785, she had then
in her possession a letter from Dr. Johnson, dated in 1777[1070], which
begins thus:--'Cholmondeley's story shocks me, if it be true, which I
can hardly think, for I am utterly unconscious of it: I am very sorry,
and very much ashamed[1071].' Why then publish the anecdote? Or if she
did, why not add the circumstances, with which she was well acquainted!
In his social intercourse she thus describes him[1072]:--
'_Ever musing till he was called out to converse, and conversing till
the fatigue of his friends, or the promptitude of his own temper to take
offence, consigned him back again to silent meditation_.'
Yet, in the same book[1073], she tells us,--
'_He was, however, seldom inclined to be silent, when any moral or
literary question was started; and it was on such occasions that, like
the Sage in _"Rasselas[1074]," _he spoke, and attention watched his
lips; he reasoned, and conviction closed his periods_.'
His conversation, indeed, was so far from ever _fatiguing_ his friends,
that they regretted when it was interrupted, or ceased, and could
exclaim in Milton's language,--
'With thee conversing, I forget all time[1075].'
I certainly, then, do not claim too much in behalf of my illustrious
friend in saying, that however smart and entertaining Mrs. Thrale's
_Anecdotes_ are, they must not be held as good evidence against him; for
wherever an instance of harshness and severity is told, I beg leave to
doubt its perfect authenticity; for though there may have been _some_
foundation for it, yet, like that of his reproof to the 'very celebrated
lady,' it may be so exhibited in the narration as to be very unlike the
real fact.
The evident tendency of the following anecdote[1076] is to represent Dr.
Johnson as extremely deficient in affection, tenderness, or even common
civility:--
_'When I one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed in_
America,--"_Prithee, my dear, (said he,) have done with canting; how
would the world be the worse for it, I may ask, if all your relations
were at once spitted like larks, and roasted for_ Presto's
_supper?"_--Presto[1077] _was the dog that lay under the table while
we talked._'
I suspect this too of exaggeration and distortion. I allow that he made
her an angry speech; but let the circumstances fairly appear, as told by
Mr. Baretti, who was present:--
'Mrs. Thrale, while supping very heartily upon larks, laid down her
knife and fork, and abruptly exclaimed, "O, my dear Mr. Johnson, do you
know what has happened? The last letters from abroad have brought us an
account that our poor cousin's head was taken off by a cannon-ball."
Johnson, who was shocked both at the fact, and her light unfeeling
manner of mentioning it, replied, "Madam, it would give _you_ very
little concern if all your relations were spitted like those larks, and
drest for Presto's supper[1078]."'
It is with concern that I find myself obliged to animadvert on the
inaccuracies of Mrs. Piozzi's _Anecdotes_, and perhaps I may be thought
to have dwelt too long upon her little collection. But as from Johnson's
long residence under Mr. Thrale's roof, and his intimacy with her, the
account which she has given of him may have made an unfavourable and
unjust impression, my duty, as a faithful biographer, has obliged me
reluctantly to perform this unpleasing task.
Having left the _pious negotiation_, as I called it, in the best hands,
I shall here insert what relates to it. Johnson wrote to Sir Joshua
Reynolds on July 6, as follows:--
'I am going, I hope, in a few days, to try the air of Derbyshire, but
hope to see you before I go. Let me, however, mention to you what I have
much at heart. If the Chancellor should continue his attention to Mr.
Boswell's request, and confer with you on the means of relieving my
languid state, I am very desirous to avoid the appearance of asking
money upon false pretences. I desire you to represent to his Lordship,
what, as soon as it is suggested, he will perceive to be
reasonable,--That, if I grow much worse, I shall be afraid to leave my
physicians, to suffer the inconveniences of travel, and pine in the
solitude of a foreign country; That, if I grow much better, of which
indeed there is now little appearance, I shall not wish to leave my
friends and my domestick comforts; for I do not travel for pleasure or
curiosity; yet if I should recover, curiosity would revive. In my
present state, I am desirous to make a struggle for a little longer
life, and hope to obtain some help from a softer climate. Do for me
what you can.'
He wrote to me July 26:--
'I wish your affairs could have permitted a longer and continued
exertion of your zeal and kindness. They that have your kindness may
want your ardour. In the mean time I am very feeble and very dejected.'
By a letter from Sir Joshua Reynolds I was informed, that the Lord
Chancellor had called on him, and acquainted him that the application
had not been successful; but that his Lordship, after speaking highly in
praise of Johnson, as a man who was an honour to his country, desired
Sir Joshua to let him know, that on granting a mortgage of his pension,
he should draw on his Lordship to the amount of five or six hundred
pounds; and that his Lordship explained the meaning of the mortgage to
be, that he wished the business to be conducted in such a manner, that
Dr. Johnson should appear to be under the least possible obligation. Sir
Joshua mentioned, that he had by the same post communicated all this to
Dr. Johnson.
How Johnson was affected upon the occasion will appear from what he
wrote to Sir Joshua Reynolds:--
'Ashbourne, Sept. 9. Many words I hope are not necessary between you and
me, to convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart by the
Chancellor's liberality, and your kind offices....[1079] I have enclosed
a letter to the Chancellor, which, when you have read it, you will be
pleased to seal with a head, or any other general seal, and convey it to
him: had I sent it directly to him, I should have seemed to overlook the
favour of your intervention.'
'To THE LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR[1080].
MY LORD, After a long and not inattentive observation of mankind, the
generosity of your Lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder than
gratitude[1081]. Bounty, so liberally bestowed, I should gladly receive,
if my condition made it necessary; for, to such a mind, who would not be
proud to own his obligations? But it has pleased GOD to restore me to so
great a measure of health, that if I should now appropriate so much of a
fortune destined to do good, I could not escape from myself the charge
of advancing a false claim. My journey to the continent, though I once
thought it necessary, was never much encouraged by my physicians; and I
was very desirous that your Lordship should be told of it by Sir Joshua
Reynolds, as an event very uncertain; for if I grew much better, I
should not be willing, if much worse, not able, to migrate. Your
Lordship was first solicited without my knowledge; but, when I was told
that you were pleased to honour me with your patronage, I did not expect
to hear of a refusal; yet, as I have had no long time to brood hope, and
have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold reception has been
scarce a disappointment; and, from your Lordship's kindness, I have
received a benefit, which only men like you are able to bestow. I shall
now live _mihi carior_, with a higher opinion of my own merit.
'I am, my Lord,
Your Lordship's most obliged,
Most grateful, and
Most humble servant,
SAM. JOHNSON.'
'September, 1784.'
Upon this unexpected failure I abstain from presuming to make any
remarks, or to offer any conjectures.[1082]
Having after repeated reasonings[1083], brought Dr. Johnson to agree to
my removing to London, and even to furnish me with arguments in favour
of what he had opposed; I wrote to him requesting he would write them
for me; he was so good as to comply, and I shall extract that part of
his letter to me of June 11[1084], as a proof how well he could exhibit
a cautious yet encouraging view of it:--
'I remember, and intreat you to remember, that _virtus est vitium
fugere_[1085]; the first approach to riches is security from poverty.
The condition on which you have my consent to settle in London is, that
your expence never exceeds your annual income. Fixing this basis of
security, you cannot be hurt, and you may be very much advanced. The
loss of your Scottish business, which is all that you can lose, is not
to be reckoned as any equivalent to the hopes and possibilities that
open here upon you. If you succeed, the question of prudence is at an
end; every body will think that done right which ends happily; and
though your expectations, of which I would not advise you to talk too
much, should not be totally answered, you can hardly fail to get friends
who will do for you all that your present situation allows you to hope;
and if, after a few years, you should return to Scotland, you will
return with a mind supplied by various conversation, and many
opportunities of enquiry, with much knowledge, and materials for
reflection and instruction.'
Let us now contemplate Johnson thirty years after the death of his wife,
still retaining for her all the tenderness of affection.
'TO THE REVEREND MR. BAGSHAW, AT BROMLEY[1086].
'SIR,
'Perhaps you may remember, that in the year 1753[1087], you committed to
the ground my dear wife. I now entreat your permission to lay a stone
upon her; and have sent the inscription, that, if you find it proper,
you may signify your allowance.
'You will do me a great favour by showing the place where she lies, that
the stone may protect her remains.
'Mr. Ryland[1088] will wait on you for the inscription[1089], and
procure it to be engraved. You will easily believe that I shrink from
this mournful office. When it is done, if I have strength remaining, I
will visit Bromley once again, and pay you part of the respect to which
you have a right from, Reverend Sir,
