Life Of Johnson, Vol. 1 by Boswell, Edited by Birkbeck Hill

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[Page 357: Letter to Mr. Langston. AEtat 51.]

'To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE.

'DEAR SIR,

'You that travel about the world, have more materials for letters, than
I who stay at home; and should, therefore, write with frequency equal to
your opportunities. I should be glad to have all England surveyed by
you, if you would impart your observations in narratives as agreeable as
your last. Knowledge is always to be wished to those who can communicate
it well. While you have been riding and running, and seeing the tombs of
the learned, and the camps of the valiant, I have only staid at home,
and intended to do great things, which I have not done. Beau[1059] went
away to Cheshire, and has not yet found his way back. Chambers passed
the vacation at Oxford.

'I am very sincerely solicitous for the preservation or curing of Mr.
Langton's sight, and am glad that the chirurgeon at Coventry gives him
so much hope. Mr. Sharpe is of opinion that the tedious maturation of
the cataract is a vulgar errour, and that it may be removed as soon as
it is formed. This notion deserves to be considered; I doubt whether it
be universally true; but if it be true in some cases, and those cases
can be distinguished, it may save a long and uncomfortable delay.

'Of dear Mrs. Langton you give me no account; which is the less
friendly, as you know how highly I think of her, and how much I interest
myself in her health. I suppose you told her of my opinion, and likewise
suppose it was not followed; however, I still believe it to be right.

[Page 358: Thomas Sheridan. A.D. 1761.]

'Let me hear from you again, wherever you are, or whatever you are
doing; whether you wander or sit still, plant trees or make
_Rusticks_,[1060] play with your sisters or muse alone; and in return I
will tell you the success of Sheridan[1061], who at this instant is playing
Cato, and has already played Richard twice. He had more company the
second than the first night, and will make, I believe, a good figure in
the whole, though his faults seem to be very many; some of natural
deficience, and some of laborious affectation. He has, I think, no power
of assuming either that dignity or elegance which some men, who have
little of either in common life, can exhibit on the stage. His voice
when strained is unpleasing, and when low is not always heard. He seems
to think too much on the audience, and turns his face too often to the
galleries[1062].

'However, I wish him well; and among other reasons, because I like his
wife[1063].

'Make haste to write to, dear Sir,

'Your most affectionate servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Oct. 18, 1760.'

[Page 359: Instances of literary fraud. AEtat 52.]

1761: AETAT. 52.--In 1761 Johnson appears to have done little. He was
still, no doubt, proceeding in his edition of _Shakespeare_; but what
advances he made in it cannot be ascertained. He certainly was at this
time not active; for in his scrupulous examination of himself on Easter
eve, he laments, in his too rigorous mode of censuring his own conduct,
that his life, since the communion of the preceding Easter, had been
'dissipated and useless[1064].' He, however, contributed this year the
Preface[*] to _Rolt's Dictionary of Trade and Commerce_, in which he
displays such a clear and comprehensive knowledge of the subject, as
might lead the reader to think that its authour had devoted all his life
to it. I asked him whether he knew much of Rolt, and of his work. 'Sir,
(said he) I never saw the man, and never read the book. The booksellers
wanted a Preface to a _Dictionary of Trade and Commerce_. I knew very
well what such a Dictionary should be, and I wrote a Preface
accordingly.' Rolt, who wrote a great deal for the booksellers, was, as
Johnson told me, a singular character[1065]. Though not in the least
acquainted with him, he used to say, 'I am just come from Sam. Johnson.'
This was a sufficient specimen of his vanity and impudence. But he gave
a more eminent proof of it in our sister kingdom, as Dr. Johnson
informed me. When Akenside's _Pleasures of the Imagination_ first came
out, he did not put his name to the poem. Rolt went over to Dublin,
published an edition of it, and put his own name to it. Upon the fame of
this he lived for several months, being entertained at the best tables
as 'the ingenious Mr. Rolt[1066].' His conversation indeed, did not
discover much of the fire of a poet; but it was recollected, that both
Addison and Thomson were equally dull till excited by wine. Akenside
having been informed of this imposition, vindicated his right by
publishing the poem with its real authour's name. Several instances of
such literary fraud have been detected. The Reverend Dr. Campbell, of
St. Andrew's, wrote _An Enquiry into the original of Moral Virtue_, the
manuscript of which he sent to Mr. Innes, a clergyman in England, who
was his countryman and acquaintance. Innes published it with his own
name to it; and before the imposition was discovered, obtained
considerable promotion, as a reward of his merit[1067].

[Page 360: The Man of Feeling. A.D. 1781.]

The celebrated Dr. Hugh Blair, and his cousin Mr. George Bannatine, when
students in divinity, wrote a poem, entitled, _The Resurrection_, copies
of which were handed about in manuscript. They were, at length, very
much surprised to see a pompous edition of it in folio, dedicated to the
Princess Dowager of Wales, by a Dr. Douglas, as his own. Some years ago
a little novel, entitled _The Man of Feeling_, was assumed by Mr.
Eccles, a young Irish clergyman, who was afterwards drowned near
Bath[1068]. He had been at the pains to transcribe the whole book, with
blottings, interlineations, and corrections, that it might be shewn to
several people as an original. It was, in truth, the production of Mr.
Henry Mackenzie, an Attorney in the Exchequer at Edinburgh, who is the
authour of several other ingenious pieces; but the belief with regard to
Mr. Eccles became so general, that it was thought necessary for
Messieurs Strahan and Cadell to publish an advertisement in the
newspapers, contradicting the report, and mentioning that they purchase
the copyright of Mr. Mackenzie[1069]. I can conceive this kind of fraud to
be very easily practised with successful effrontery. The _Filiation_ of
a literary performance is difficult of proof; seldom is there any
witness present at its birth. A man, either in confidence or by improper
means, obtains possession of a copy of it in manuscript, and boldly
publishes it as his own. The true authour, in many cases, may not be
able to make his title clear. Johnson, indeed, from the peculiar
features of his literary offspring, might bid defiance to any attempt to
appropriate them to others.

'But Shakspeare's magick could not copied be,
Within that circle none durst walk but he[1070]!'

[Page 361: Letter to Mr. Baretti. AEtat 52.]

He this year lent his friendly assistance to correct and improve a
pamphlet written by Mr. Gwyn, the architect, entitled, _Thoughts on the
Coronation of George III_.[*]

Johnson had now for some years admitted Mr. Baretti to his intimacy; nor
did their friendship cease upon their being separated by Baretti's
revisiting his native country, as appears from Johnson's letters to him.

'To MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MILAN[1071].

[Page 362: Baretti's knowledge of languages. A.D. 1761.]

'You reproach me very often with parsimony of writing: but you may
discover by the extent of my paper, that I design to recompence rarity
by length. A short letter to a distant friend is, in my opinion, an
insult like that of a slight bow or cursory salutation;--a proof of
unwillingness to do much, even where there is a necessity of doing
something. Yet it must be remembered, that he who continues the same
course of life in the same place, will have little to tell. One week and
one year are very like one another. The silent changes made by time are
not always perceived; and if they are not perceived, cannot be
recounted. I have risen and lain down, talked and mused, while you have
roved over a considerable part of Europe[1072]; yet I have not envied my
Baretti any of his pleasures, though, perhaps, I have envied others his
company: and I am glad to have other nations made acquainted with the
character of the English, by a traveller who has so nicely inspected our
manners, and so successfully studied our literature. I received your
kind letter from Falmouth, in which you gave me notice of your departure
for Lisbon, and another from Lisbon, in which you told me, that you were
to leave Portugal in a few days. To either of these how could any answer
be returned? I have had a third from Turin, complaining that I have not
answered the former. Your English style still continues in its purity
and vigour. With vigour your genius will supply it; but its purity must
be continued by close attention. To use two languages familiarly, and
without contaminating one by the other, is very difficult: and to use
more than two is hardly to be hoped[1073]. The praises which some have
received for their multiplicity of languages, may be sufficient to
excite industry, but can hardly generate confidence.

'I know not whether I can heartily rejoice at the kind reception which
you have found, or at the popularity to which you are exalted. I am
willing that your merit should be distinguished; but cannot wish that
your affections may be gained. I would have you happy wherever you are:
yet I would have you wish to return to England. If ever you visit us
again, you will find the kindness of your friends undiminished. To tell
you how many enquiries are made after you, would be tedious, or if not
tedious, would be vain; because you may be told in a very few words,
that all who knew you wish you well; and that all that you embraced at
your departure, will caress you at your return: therefore do not let
Italian academicians nor Italian ladies drive us from your thoughts. You
may find among us what you will leave behind, soft smiles and easy
sonnets. Yet I shall not wonder if all our invitations should be
rejected: for there is a pleasure in being considerable at home, which
is not easily resisted.

[Page 363: The Exhibition of Pictures. AEtat 52.]

'By conducting Mr. Southwell[1074] to Venice, you fulfilled, I know, the
original contract: yet I would wish you not wholly to lose him from your
notice, but to recommend him to such acquaintance as may best secure him
from suffering by his own follies, and to take such general care both of
his safety and his interest as may come within your power. His relations
will thank you for any such gratuitous attention: at least they will not
blame you for any evil that may happen, whether they thank you or not
for any good.

'You know that we have a new King and a new Parliament. Of the new
Parliament Fitzherbert[1075] is a member. We were so weary of our old King,
that we are much pleased with his successor; of whom we are so much
inclined to hope great things, that most of us begin already to believe
them. The young man is hitherto blameless; but it would be unreasonable
to expect much from the immaturity of juvenile years, and the ignorance
of princely education. He has been long in the hands of the Scots, and
has already favoured them more than the English will contentedly endure.
But, perhaps, he scarcely knows whom he has distinguished, or whom he
has disgusted.

'The Artists have instituted a yearly Exhibition[1076] of pictures and
statues, in imitation, as I am told, of foreign academies. This year was
the second Exhibition. They please themselves much with the multitude of
spectators, and imagine that the English School will rise in reputation.
Reynolds is without a rival, and continues to add thousands to
thousands, which he deserves, among other excellencies, by retaining his
kindness for Baretti. This Exhibition has filled the heads of the
Artists and lovers of art. Surely life, if it be not long, is tedious,
since we are forced to call in the assistance of so many trifles[1077] to
rid us of our time, of that time which never can return.

[Page 364: Johnson's indifference to pictures. A.D. 1761.]

[Page 365: Monastick life. AEtat 52.]

'I know my Baretti will not be satisfied with a letter in which I give
him no account of myself: yet what account shall I give him? I have not,
since the day of our separation, suffered or done any thing
considerable. The only change in my way of life is, that I have
frequented the theatre more than in former seasons. But I have gone
thither only to escape from myself. We have had many new farces, and the
comedy called _The Jealous Wife_[1078], which, though not written with much
genius, was yet so well adapted to the stage, and so well exhibited by
the actors, that it was crowded for near twenty nights. I am digressing
from myself to the play-house; but a barren plan must be filled with
episodes. Of myself I have nothing to say, but that I have hitherto
lived without the concurrence of my own judgment; yet I continue to
flatter myself, that, when you return, you will find me mended. I do not
wonder that, where the monastick life is permitted, every order finds
votaries, and every monastery inhabitants. Men will submit to any rule,
by which they may be exempted from the tyranny of caprice and of chance.
They are glad to supply by external authority their own want of
constancy and resolution, and court the government of others, when long
experience has convinced them of their own inability to govern
themselves[1079]. If I were to visit Italy, my curiosity would be more
attracted by convents than by palaces: though I am afraid that I should
find expectation in both places equally disappointed, and life in both
places supported with impatience and quitted with reluctance. That it
must be so soon quitted, is a powerful remedy against impatience; but
what shall free us from reluctance? Those who have endeavoured to teach
us to die well, have taught few to die willingly: yet I cannot but hope
that a good life might end at last in a contented death.

'You see to what a train of thought I am drawn by the mention of myself.
Let me now turn my attention upon you. I hope you take care to keep an
exact journal, and to register all occurrences and observations[1080]; for
your friends here expect such a book of travels as has not been often
seen. You have given us good specimens in your letters from Lisbon. I
wish you had staid longer in Spain[1081], for no country is less known to
the rest of Europe; but the quickness of your discernment must make
amends for the celerity of your motions. He that knows which way to
direct his view, sees much in a little time.

[Page 366: Chronology of the Scriptures. A.D. 1762.]

'Write to me very often, and I will not neglect to write to you; and I
may, perhaps, in time, get something to write: at least, you will know
by my letters, whatever else they may have or want, that I continue to
be

'Your most affectionate friend,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'London, June 10, 1761[1082].'

1762: AETAT. 53.--In 1762 he wrote for the Reverend Dr. Kennedy, Rector
of Bradley in Derbyshire, in a strain of very courtly elegance, a
Dedication to the King[*] of that gentleman's work, entitled, _A
complete System of Astronomical Chronology, unfolding the Scriptures_.
He had certainly looked at this work before it was printed; for the
concluding paragraph is undoubtedly of his composition, of which let my
readers judge:

'Thus have I endeavoured to free Religion and History from the darkness
of a disputed and uncertain chronology; from difficulties which have
hitherto appeared insuperable, and darkness which no luminary of
learning has hitherto been able to dissipate. I have established the
truth of the Mosaical account, by evidence which no transcription can
corrupt, no negligence can lose, and no interest can pervert. I have
shewn that the universe bears witness to the inspiration of its
historian, by the revolution of its orbs and the succession of its
seasons; _that the stars in their courses fight against_[1083] incredulity,
that the works of GOD give hourly confirmation to the _law_, the
_prophets_, and the _gospel_, of which _one day telleth another, and one
night certifieth another_[1084]; and that the validity of the sacred
writings can never be denied, while the moon shall increase and wane,
and the sun shall know his going down[1085].'

[Page 367: The care of living. AEtat 53.]

He this year wrote also the Dedication[Dagger] to the Earl of Middlesex
of Mrs Lennox's _Female Quixote_[1086], and the Preface to the _Catalogue
of the Artists' Exhibition_.[Dagger]

The following letter, which, on account of its intrinsick merit, it
would have been unjust both to Johnson and the publick to have
with-held, was obtained for me by the solicitation of my friend Mr.
Seward:

'To DR. STAUNTON, (NOW SIR GEORGE STAUNTON, BARONET[1087].)

'DEAR SIR,

'I make haste to answer your kind letter, in hope of hearing again from
you before you leave us. I cannot but regret that a man of your
qualifications should find it necessary to seek an establishment in
Guadaloupe, which if a peace should restore to the French[1088], I shall
think it some alleviation of the loss, that it must restore likewise Dr.
Staunton to the English.

'It is a melancholy consideration, that so much of our time is
necessarily to be spent upon the care of living, and that we can seldom
obtain ease in one respect but by resigning it in another; yet I suppose
we are by this dispensation not less happy in the whole, than if the
spontaneous bounty of Nature poured all that we want into our hands. A
few, if they were thus left to themselves, would, perhaps, spend their
time in laudable pursuits; but the greater part would prey upon the
quiet of each other, or, in the want of other objects, would prey upon
themselves.

'This, however, is our condition, which we must improve and solace as we
can: and though we cannot choose always our place of residence, we may
in every place find rational amusements, and possess in every place the
comforts of piety and a pure conscience.

'In America there is little to be observed except natural curiosities.
The new world must have many vegetables and animals with which
philosophers are but little acquainted. I hope you will furnish yourself
with some books of natural history, and some glasses and other
instruments of observation. Trust as little as you can to report;
examine all you can by your own senses. I do not doubt but you will be
able to add much to knowledge, and, perhaps, to medicine. Wild nations
trust to simples; and, perhaps, the Peruvian bark is not the only
specifick which those extensive regions may afford us.

[Page 368: Improper expectations. A.D. 1762.]

'Wherever you are, and whatever be your fortune, be certain, dear Sir,
that you carry with you my kind wishes; and that whether you return
hither, or stay in the other hemisphere[1089], to hear that you are happy
will give pleasure to, Sir,

'Your most affectionate humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'June 1, 1762.'

A lady having at this time solicited him to obtain the Archbishop of
Canterbury's patronage to have her son sent to the University, one of
those solicitations which are too frequent, where people, anxious for a
particular object, do not consider propriety, or the opportunity which
the persons whom they solicit have to assist them, he wrote to her the
following answer, with a copy of which I am favoured by the Reverend Dr.
Farmer[1090], Master of Emanuel College, Cambridge.

'MADAM,

'I hope you will believe that my delay in answering your letter could
proceed only from my unwillingness to destroy any hope that you had
formed. Hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief
happiness which this world affords[1091]: but, like all other pleasures
immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated by pain; and
expectations improperly indulged, must end in disappointment. If it be
asked, what is the improper expectation which it is dangerous to
indulge, experience will quickly answer, that it is such expectation as
is dictated not by reason, but by desire; expectation raised, not by the
common occurrences of life, but by the wants of the expectant; an
expectation that requires the common course of things to be changed, and
the general rules of action to be broken.

[Page 369: Johnson's second letter to Baretti. AEtat 53.]

'When you made your request to me, you should have considered, Madam,
what you were asking. You ask me to solicit a great man, to whom I never
spoke, for a young person whom I had never seen, upon a supposition
which I had no means of knowing to be true. There is no reason why,
amongst all the great, I should chuse to supplicate the Archbishop, nor
why, among all the possible objects of his bounty, the Archbishop should
chuse your son. I know, Madam, how unwillingly conviction is admitted,
when interest opposes it; but surely, Madam, you must allow, that there
is no reason why that should be done by me, which every other man may do
with equal reason, and which, indeed, no man can do properly, without
some very particular relation both to the Archbishop and to you. If I
could help you in this exigence by any proper means, it would give me
pleasure; but this proposal is so very remote from all usual methods,
that I cannot comply with it, but at the risk of such answer and
suspicions as I believe you do not wish me to undergo.

'I have seen your son this morning; he seems a pretty youth, and will,
perhaps, find some better friend than I can procure him; but, though he
should at last miss the University, he may still be wise, useful, and
happy. I am, Madam,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'June 8, 1762.'

'To MR. JOSEPH BARETTI, AT MILAN.

'London, July 20, 1762[1092].

'SIR,

'However justly you may accuse me for want of punctuality in
correspondence, I am not so far lost in negligence as to omit the
opportunity of writing to you, which Mr. Beauclerk's passage through
Milan affords me.

'I suppose you received the _Idlers_, and I intend that you shall soon
receive _Shakspeare_, that you may explain his works to the ladies of
Italy, and tell them the story of the editor, among the other strange
narratives with which your long residence in this unknown region has
supplied you.

'As you have now been long away, I suppose your curiosity may pant for
some news of your old friends. Miss Williams and I live much as we did.
Miss Cotterel[1093] still continues to cling to Mrs. Porter, and
Charlotte[1094] is now big of the fourth child. Mr. Reynolds gets six
thousands a year[1095]. Levet is lately married, not without much suspicion
that he has been wretchedly cheated in his match[1096]. Mr. Chambers is
gone this day, for the first time, the circuit with the Judges. Mr.
Richardson is dead of an apoplexy[1097], and his second daughter has
married a merchant.

[Page 370: Johnson's visit to Lichfield. A.D. 1762.]

[Page 371: All happiness borrowed from hope. AEtat 53.]

'My vanity, or my kindness, makes me flatter myself, that you would
rather hear of me than of those whom I have mentioned; but of myself I
have very little which I care to tell. Last winter I went down to my
native town[1098], where I found the streets much narrower and shorter than
I thought I had left them, inhabited by a new race of people, to whom I
was very little known. My play-fellows were grown old, and forced me to
suspect that I was no longer young. My only remaining friend has changed
his principles, and was become the tool of the predominant faction. My
daughter-in-law, from whom I expected most, and whom I met with sincere
benevolence, has lost the beauty and gaiety of youth, without having
gained much of the wisdom of age[1099]. I wandered about for five days,
[1100] and took the first convenient opportunity of returning to a place,
where, if there is not much happiness, there is, at least, such a
diversity of good and evil, that slight vexations do not fix upon the
heart[1101].

'I think in a few weeks to try another excursion[1102]; though to what end?
Let me know, my Baretti, what has been the result of your return to your
own country: whether time has made any alteration for the better, and
whether, when the first raptures of salutation were over, you did not
find your thoughts confessed their disappointment.

'Moral sentences appear ostentatious and tumid, when they have no
greater occasions than the journey of a wit to his own town: yet such
pleasures and such pains make up the general mass of life; and as
nothing is little to him that feels it with great sensibility, a mind
able to see common incidents in their real state, is disposed by very
common incidents to very serious contemplations. Let us trust that a
time will come, when the present moment shall be no longer irksome; when
we shall not borrow all our happiness from hope, which at last is to end
in disappointment.