grows manifest that the boundless importance of the next life enforces
some attention to the interests of this.
'Be kind to the old servants, and secure the kindness of the agents and
factors; do not disgust them by asperity, or unwelcome gaiety, or
apparent suspicion. From them you must learn the real state of your
affairs, the characters of your tenants, and the value of your
lands[483].
'Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell; I think her expectations from air
and exercise are the best that she can form. I hope she will live long
and happily.
'I forget whether I told you that Rasay[484] has been here; we dined
cheerfully together. I entertained lately a young gentleman from
Corrichatachin[485].
'I received your letters only this morning. I am, dear Sir,
'Yours &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'London, Sept. 7, 1782.'
In answer to my next letter, I received one from him, dissuading me from
hastening to him as I had proposed[486]; what is proper for publication
is the following paragraph, equally just and tender:--
'One expence, however, I would not have you to spare: let nothing be
omitted that can preserve Mrs. Boswell, though it should be necessary to
transplant her for a time into a softer climate. She is the prop and
stay of your life. How much must your children suffer by losing her.'
My wife was now so much convinced of his sincere friendship for me, and
regard for her, that, without any suggestion on my part, she wrote him a
very polite and grateful letter:--
'DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL.
'DEAR LADY,
'I have not often received so much pleasure as from your invitation to
Auchinleck. The journey thither and back is, indeed, too great for the
latter part of the year; but if my health were fully recovered, I would
suffer no little heat and cold, nor a wet or a rough road to keep me
from you. I am, indeed, not without hope of seeing Auchinleck again; but
to make it a pleasant place I must see its lady well, and brisk, and
airy. For my sake, therefore, among many greater reasons, take care,
dear Madam, of your health, spare no expence, and want no attendance
that can procure ease, or preserve it. Be very careful to keep your mind
quiet; and do not think it too much to give an account of your recovery
to, Madam,
'Yours, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'London, Sept. 7, 1782.'
'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'Having passed almost this whole year in a succession of disorders, I
went in October to Brighthelmston, whither I came in a state of so much
weakness, that I rested four times in walking between the inn and the
lodging. By physick and abstinence I grew better, and am now reasonably
easy, though at a great distance from health[487]. I am afraid, however,
that health begins, after seventy, and long before, to have a meaning
different from that which it had at thirty. But it is culpable to murmur
at the established order of the creation, as it is vain to oppose it. He
that lives must grow old; and he that would rather grow old than die,
has GOD to thank for the infirmities of old age[488].
'At your long silence I am rather angry. You do not, since now you are
the head of your house, think it worth your while to try whether you or
your friend can live longer without writing[489], nor suspect that after
so many years of friendship, that when I do not write to you, I forget
you. Put all such useless jealousies out of your head, and disdain to
regulate your own practice by the practice of another, or by any other
principle than the desire of doing right.
'Your oeconomy, I suppose, begins now to be settled; your expences are
adjusted to your revenue, and all your people in their proper places.
Resolve not to be poor: whatever you have, spend less. Poverty is a
great enemy to human happiness; it certainly destroys liberty, and it
makes some virtues impracticable, and others extremely difficult.
'Let me know the history of your life, since your accession to your
estate. How many houses, how many cows, how much land in your own hand,
and what bargains you make with your tenants.
* * * * *
'Of my _Lives of the Poets_, they have printed a new edition in octavo,
I hear, of three thousand. Did I give a set to Lord Hailes? If I did
not, I will do it out of these. What did you make of all your copy[490]?
'Mrs. Thrale and the three Misses[491] are now for the winter in
Argyll-street. Sir Joshua Reynolds has been out of order, but is well
again; and I am, dear Sir,
'Your affectionate humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'London, Dec. 7, 1782.'
'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
'Edinburgh, Dec. 20, 1782.
'DEAR SIR,
'I was made happy by your kind letter, which gave us the agreeable hopes
of seeing you in Scotland again.
'I am much flattered by the concern you are pleased to take in my
recovery. I am better, and hope to have it in my power to convince you
by my attention of how much consequence I esteem your health to the
world and to myself. I remain, Sir, with grateful respect,
'Your obliged and obedient servant,
'MARGARET BOSWELL.'
The death of Mr. Thrale had made a very material alteration with respect
to Johnson's reception in that family. The manly authority of the
husband no longer curbed the lively exuberance of the lady; and as her
vanity had been fully gratified, by having the Colossus of Literature
attached to her for many years, she gradually became less assiduous to
please him. Whether her attachment to him was already divided by another
object, I am unable to ascertain; but it is plain that Johnson's
penetration was alive to her neglect or forced attention; for on the eth
of October this year, we find him making a 'parting use of the
library[492]' at Streatham, and pronouncing a prayer, which he composed
on leaving Mr. Thrale's family[493]:--
'Almighty God, Father of all mercy, help me by thy grace, that I may,
with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the comforts and
conveniences which I have enjoyed at this place; and that I may resign
them with holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when thou
givest, and when thou takest away. Have mercy upon me, Lord, have
mercy upon me.
'To thy fatherly protection, O Lord, I commend this family. Bless,
guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through this world, as
finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting happiness, for Jesus
Christ's sake. Amen[494].'
One cannot read this prayer, without some emotions not very favourable
to the lady whose conduct occasioned it[495].
In one of his memorandum-books I find, 'Sunday, went to church at
Streatham. _Templo valedixi cum osculo_[496].'
He met Mr. Philip Metcalfe[497] often at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and
other places, and was a good deal with him at Brighthelmston[498] this
autumn, being pleased at once with his excellent table and animated
conversation. Mr. Metcalfe shewed him great respect, and sent him a note
that he might have the use of his carriage whenever he pleased. Johnson
(3d October, 1782) returned this polite answer:--'Mr. Johnson is very
much obliged by the kind offer of the carriage, but he has no desire of
using Mr. Metcalfe's carriage, except when he can have the pleasure of
Mr. Metcalfe's company.' Mr. Metcalfe could not but be highly pleased
that his company was thus valued by Johnson, and he frequently attended
him in airings. They also went together to Chichester[499], and they
visited Petworth, and Cowdry, the venerable seat of the Lords Montacute.
'Sir, (said Johnson,) I should like to stay here four-and-twenty hours.
We see here how our ancestors lived.'
That his curiosity was still unabated, appears from two letters to Mr.
John Nichols, of the 10th and 20th[500] of October this year. In one he
says, 'I have looked into your _Anecdotes_, and you will hardly thank a
lover of literary history for telling you, that he has been much
informed and gratified. I wish you would add your own discoveries and
intelligence to those of Dr. Rawlinson, and undertake the Supplement to
Wood[501]'. Think of it.' In the other, 'I wish, Sir, you could obtain
some fuller information of Jortin[502], Markland[503], and Thirlby[504].
They were three contemporaries of great eminence.'
'TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
'DEAR SIR,
'I heard yesterday of your late disorder[505], and should think ill of
myself if I had heard of it without alarm. I heard likewise Of your
recovery, which I sincerely wish to be complete and permanent. Your
country has been in danger of losing one of its brightest ornaments, and
I of losing one of my oldest and kindest friends: but I hope you will
still live long, for the honour of the nation: and that more enjoyment
of your elegance, your intelligence, and your benevolence, is still
reserved for, dear Sir, your most affectionate, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Brighthelmston,
Nov. 14, 1782.'
The Reverend Mr. Wilson having dedicated to him his _Archaeological
Dictionary_[506], that mark of respect was thus acknowledged:--
'TO THE REVEREND MR. WILSON, CLITHEROE, LANCASHIRE.
'REVEREND SIR,
'That I have long omitted to return you thanks for the honour conferred
upon me by your Dedication, I entreat you with great earnestness not to
consider as more faulty than it is. A very importunate and oppressive
disorder has for some time debarred me from the pleasures, and
obstructed me in the duties of life. The esteem and kindness of wise and
good men is one of the last pleasures which I can be content to lose;
and gratitude to those from whom this pleasure is received, is a duty of
which I hope never to be reproached with the final neglect. I therefore
now return you thanks for the notice which I have received from you, and
which I consider as giving to my name not only more bulk, but more
weight; not only as extending its superficies, but as increasing its
value. Your book was evidently wanted, and will, I hope, find its way
into the school, to which, however, I do not mean to confine it; for no
man has so much skill in ancient rites and practices as not to want it.
As I suppose myself to owe part of your kindness to my excellent friend,
Dr. Patten, he has likewise a just claim to my acknowledgements, which I
hope you, Sir, will transmit. There will soon appear a new edition of my
Poetical Biography; if you will accept of a copy to keep me in your
mind, be pleased to let me know how it may be conveniently conveyed to
you. The present is small, but it is given with good will by,
Reverend Sir,
'Your most, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'December 31, 1782[507].'
1783: AETAT. 74.--In 1783, he was more severely afflicted than ever,
as will appear in the course of his correspondence[508]; but still the
same ardour for literature, the same constant piety, the same kindness
for his friends, and the same vivacity, both in conversation and
writing, distinguished him.
Having given Dr. Johnson a full account of what I was doing at
Auchinleck, and particularly mentioned what I knew would please him,--my
having brought an old man of eighty-eight from a lonely cottage to a
comfortable habitation within my enclosures, where he had good
neighbours near to him,--I received an answer in February, of which I
extract what follows:--
'I am delighted with your account of your activity at Auchinleck, and
wish the old gentleman, whom you have so kindly removed, may live long
to promote your prosperity by his prayers. You have now a new character
and new duties: think on them and practise them.
'Make an impartial estimate of your revenue, and whatever it is, live
upon less. Resolve never to be poor. Frugality is not only the basis of
quiet, but of beneficence. No man can help others that wants help
himself; we must have enough before we have to spare.
'I am glad to find that Mrs. Boswell grows well; and hope that to keep
her well, no care nor caution will be omitted. May you long live
happily together.
'When you come hither, pray bring with you Baxter's _Anacreon_[509]. I
cannot get that edition in London.'
On Friday, March 31, having arrived in London the night before, I was
glad to find him at Mrs. Thrale's house, in Argyll-street, appearances
of friendship between them being still kept up. I was shewn into his
room, and after the first salutation he said, 'I am glad you are come. I
am very ill.' He looked pale, and was distressed with a difficulty of
breathing; but after the common inquiries he assumed his usual strong
animated style of conversation. Seeing me now for the first time as a
_Laird_, or proprietor of land, he began thus: 'Sir, the superiority of
a country-gentleman over the people upon his estate is very agreeable;
and he who says he does not feel it to be agreeable, lies; for it must
be agreeable to have a casual superiority over those who are by nature
equal with us[510].' BOSWELL. 'Yet, Sir, we see great proprietors of
land who prefer living in London.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, the pleasure of
living in London, the intellectual superiority that is enjoyed there,
may counter-balance the other. Besides, Sir, a man may prefer the state
of the country-gentleman upon the whole, and yet there may never be a
moment when he is willing to make the change to quit London for it.' He
said, 'It is better to have five _per cent_. out of land than out of
money, because it is more secure; but the readiness of transfer, and
promptness of interest, make many people rather choose the funds. Nay,
there is another disadvantage belonging to land, compared with money. A
man is not so much afraid of being a hard creditor, as of being a hard
landlord.' BOSWELL. 'Because there is a sort of kindly connection
between a landlord and his tenants.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; many landlords
with us never see their tenants. It is because if a landlord drives away
his tenants, he may not get others; whereas the demand for money is so
great, it may always be lent.'
He talked with regret and indignation of the factious opposition to
Government at this time[511], and imputed it in a great measure to the
Revolution. 'Sir, (said he, in a low voice, having come nearer to me,
while his old prejudices seemed to be fermenting in his mind,) this
Hanoverian family is _isolee_ here[512]. They have no friends. Now the
Stuarts had friends who stuck by them so late as 1745. When the right of
the King is not reverenced, there will not be reverence for those
appointed by the King.'
His observation that the present royal family has no friends, has been
too much justified by the very ungrateful behaviour of many who were
under great obligations to his Majesty; at the same time there are
honourable exceptions; and the very next year after this conversation,
and ever since, the King has had as extensive and generous support as
ever was given to any monarch, and has had the satisfaction of knowing
that he was more and more endeared to his people[513].
He repeated to me his verses on Mr. Levett, with an emotion which gave
them full effect[514]; and then he was pleased to say, 'You must be as
much with me as you can. You have done me good. You cannot think how
much better I am since you came in.'
He sent a message to acquaint Mrs. Thrale that I was arrived. I had not
seen her since her husband's death. She soon appeared, and favoured me
with an invitation to stay to dinner, which I accepted. There was no
other company but herself and three of her daughters, Dr. Johnson, and
I. She too said, she was very glad I was come, for she was going to
Bath, and should have been sorry to leave Dr. Johnson before I came.
This seemed to be attentive and kind; and I who had not been informed of
any change, imagined all to be as well as formerly. He was little
inclined to talk at dinner, and went to sleep after it; but when he
joined us in the drawing-room, he seemed revived, and was again himself.
Talking of conversation, he said, 'There must, in the first place, be
knowledge, there must be materials; in the second place, there must be a
command of words; in the third place, there must be imagination, to
place things in such views as they are not commonly seen in; and in the
fourth place, there must be presence of mind, and a resolution that is
not to be overcome by failures: this last is an essential requisite; for
want of it many people do not excel in conversation. Now _I_ want it: I
throw up the game upon losing a trick.' I wondered to hear him talk thus
of himself, and said, 'I don't know, Sir, how this may be; but I am sure
you beat other people's cards out of their hands.' I doubt whether he
heard this remark. While he went on talking triumphantly, I was fixed in
admiration, and said to Mrs. Thrale, 'O, for short-hand to take this
down!' 'You'll carry it all in your head; (said she;) a long head is as
good as short-hand.'
It has been observed and wondered at, that Mr. Charles Fox never talked
with any freedom in the presence of Dr. Johnson[515], though it is well
known, and I myself can witness, that his conversation is various,
fluent, and exceedingly agreeable. Johnson's own experience, however, of
that gentleman's reserve was a sufficient reason for his going on thus:
'Fox never talks in private company; not from any determination not to
talk, but because he has not the first motion[516]. A man who is used to
the applause of the House of Commons, has no wish for that of a private
company. A man accustomed to throw for a thousand pounds, if set down to
throw for sixpence, would not be at the pains to count his dice. Burke's
talk is the ebullition of his mind; he does not talk from a desire of
distinction, but because his mind is full[517].
He thus curiously characterised one of our old acquaintance: '----[518]
is a good man, Sir; but he is a vain man and a liar. He, however, only
tells lies of vanity; of victories, for instance, in conversation, which
never happened.' This alluded to a story which I had repeated from that
gentleman, to entertain Johnson with its wild bravado: 'This Johnson,
Sir, (said he,) whom you are all afraid of will shrink, if you come
close to him in argument and roar as loud as he. He once maintained the
paradox, that there is no beauty but in utility[519]. "Sir, (said I,)
what say you to the peacock's tail, which is one of the most beautiful
objects in nature, but would have as much utility if its feathers were
all of one colour." He _felt_ what I thus produced, and had recourse to
his usual expedient, ridicule; exclaiming, "A peacock has a tail, and a
fox has a tail;" and then he burst out into a laugh. "Well, Sir, (said
I, with a strong voice, looking him full in the face,) you have
unkennelled your fox; pursue him if you dare." He had not a word to say,
Sir.' Johnson told me, that this was a fiction from beginning
to end[520].
After musing for some time, he said, 'I wonder how I should have any
enemies; for I do harm to nobody[521].' BOSWELL. 'In the first place,
Sir, you will be pleased to recollect, that you set out with attacking
the Scotch; so you got a whole nation for your enemies.' JOHNSON. 'Why,
I own, that by my definition of _oats_[522] I meant to vex them.'
BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, can you trace the cause of your antipathy to the
Scotch.' JOHNSON. 'I cannot, Sir[523].' BOSWELL. 'Old Mr. Sheridan says,
it was because they sold Charles the First.' JOHNSON. 'Then, Sir, old
Mr. Sheridan has found out a very good reason.'
Surely the most obstinate and sulky nationality, the most determined
aversion to this great and good man, must be cured, when he is seen thus
playing with one of his prejudices, of which he candidly admitted that
he could not tell the reason. It was, however, probably owing to his
having had in his view the worst part of the Scottish nation, the needy
adventurers, many of whom he thought were advanced above their merits by
means which he did not approve. Had he in his early life been in
Scotland, and seen the worthy, sensible, independent gentlemen, who live
rationally and hospitably at home, he never could have entertained such
unfavourable and unjust notions of his fellow-subjects. And accordingly
we find, that when he did visit Scotland, in the latter period of his
life, he was fully sensible of all that it deserved, as I have already
pointed out, when speaking of his _Journey to the Western Islands_.[524]
Next day, Saturday, March 22, I found him still at Mrs. Thrale's, but he
told me that he was to go to his own house in the afternoon[525]. He was
better, but I perceived he was but an unruly patient, for Sir Lucas
