Life of Johnson Volume V Part 23

'Now for the Epitaphs!

[_These, together with the verses on George the Second, and Colley Cibber, as his Poet Laureat, of which imperfect copies are gone about, will appear in my Life of Dr. Johnson[939]._]

'I have no more paper, or I should have said more to you. My love[940]

and respects to Mr. Johnson.

'Yours ever,

'D. GARRICK.'

'I can't write. I have the gout in my hand.'

'_To James Boswell, Esq., Edinburgh._'

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 24.

We pa.s.sed the forenoon calmly and placidly. I prevailed on Dr. Johnson to read aloud Ogden's sixth sermon on Prayer, which he did with a distinct expression, and pleasing solemnity. He praised my favourite preacher, his elegant language, and remarkable acuteness; and said, he fought infidels with their own weapons.

As a specimen of Ogden's manner, I insert the following pa.s.sage from the sermon which Dr. Johnson now read. The preacher, after arguing against that vain philosophy which maintains, in conformity with the hard principle of eternal necessity, or unchangeable predetermination, that the only effect of prayer for others, although we are exhorted to pray for them, is to produce good dispositions in ourselves towards them; thus expresses himself:--

'A plain man may be apt to ask, But if this then, though enjoined in the holy scriptures, is to be my real aim and intention, when I am taught to pray for other persons, why is it that I do not plainly so express it?

Why is not the form of the pet.i.tion brought nearer to the meaning? Give them, say I to our heavenly father, what is good. But this, I am to understand, will be as it will be, and is not for me to alter. What is it then that I am doing? I am desiring to become charitable myself; and why may I not plainly say so? Is there shame in it, or impiety? The wish is laudable: why should I form designs to hide it?

'Or is it, perhaps, better to be brought about by indirect means, and in this artful manner? Alas! who is it that I would impose on? From whom can it be, in this commerce, that I desire to hide any thing? When, as my Saviour commands me, I have _entered into my closet, and shut my door_, there are but two parties privy to my devotions, G.o.d and my own heart; which of the two am I deceiving?'

He wished to have more books, and, upon inquiring if there were any in the house, was told that a waiter had some, which were brought to him; but I recollect none of them, except Hervey's _Meditations_. He thought slightingly of this admired book. He treated it with ridicule, and would not allow even the scene of the dying Husband and Father to be pathetick[941]. I am not an impartial judge; for Hervey's _Meditations_ engaged my affections in my early years. He read a pa.s.sage concerning the moon, ludicrously, and shewed how easily he could, in the same style, make reflections on that planet, the very reverse of Hervey's[942], representing her as treacherous to mankind. He did this with much humour; but I have not preserved the particulars. He then indulged a playful fancy, in making a _Meditation on a Pudding_[943], of which I hastily wrote down, in his presence, the following note; which, though imperfect, may serve to give my readers some idea of it.

MEDITATION ON A PUDDING.

'Let us seriously reflect of what a pudding is composed. It is composed of flour that once waved in the golden grain, and drank the dews of the morning; of milk pressed from the swelling udder by the gentle hand of the beauteous milk-maid, whose beauty and innocence might have recommended a worse draught; who, while she stroked the udder, indulged no ambitious thoughts of wandering in palaces, formed no plans for the destruction of her fellow-creatures: milk, which is drawn from the cow, that useful animal, that eats the gra.s.s of the field, and supplies us with that which made the greatest part of the food of mankind in the age which the poets have agreed to call golden. It is made with an egg, that miracle of nature, which the theoretical Burnet[944] has compared to creation. An egg contains water within its beautiful smooth surface; and an unformed ma.s.s, by the incubation of the parent, becomes a regular animal, furnished with bones and sinews, and covered with feathers. Let us consider; can there be more wanting to complete the Meditation on a Pudding? If more is wanting, more may be found. It contains salt, which keeps the sea from putrefaction: salt, which is made the image of intellectual excellence, contributes to the formation of a pudding.'

In a Magazine I found a saying of Dr. Johnson's, something to this purpose; that the happiest part of a man's life is what he pa.s.ses lying awake in bed in the morning. I read it to him. He said, 'I may, perhaps, have said this; for n.o.body, at times, talks more laxly than I do[945].'

I ventured to suggest to him, that this was dangerous from one of his authority.

I spoke of living in the country, and upon what footing one should be with neighbours. I observed that some people were afraid of being on too easy a footing with them, from an apprehension that their time would not be their own. He made the obvious remark, that it depended much on what kind of neighbours one has, whether it was desirable to be on an easy footing with them, or not. I mentioned a certain baronet, who told me, he never was happy in the country, till he was not on speaking terms with his neighbours, which he contrived in different ways to bring about. 'Lord ----------(said he) stuck long; but at last the fellow pounded my pigs, and then I got rid of him.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, My Lord got rid of Sir John, and shewed how little he valued him, by putting his pigs in the pound.'

I told Dr. Johnson I was in some difficulty how to act at Inverary. I had reason to think that the d.u.c.h.ess of Argyle disliked me, on account of my zeal in the Douglas cause[946]; but the Duke of Argyle had always been pleased to treat me with great civility. They were now at the castle, which is a very short walk from our inn; and the question was, whether I should go and pay my respects there. Dr. Johnson, to whom I had stated the case, was clear that I ought; but, in his usual way, he was very shy of discovering a desire to be invited there himself. Though from a conviction of the benefit of subordination[947] to society, he has always shewn great respect to persons of high rank, when he happened to be in their company, yet his pride of character has ever made him guard against any appearance of courting the great. Besides, he was impatient to go to Glasgow, where he expected letters. At the same time he was, I believe, secretly not unwilling to have attention paid him by so great a Chieftain, and so exalted a n.o.bleman. He insisted that I should not go to the castle this day before dinner, as it would look like seeking an invitation. 'But, (said I,) if the Duke invites us to dine with him to-morrow, shall we accept?' 'Yes, Sir;' I think he said, 'to be sure.' But, he added, 'He won't ask us!' I mentioned, that I was afraid my company might be disagreeable to the d.u.c.h.ess. He treated this objection with a manly disdain: '_That_, Sir, he must settle with his wife.' We dined well. I went to the castle just about the time when I supposed the ladies would be retired from dinner. I sent in my name; and, being shewn in, found the amiable Duke sitting at the head of his table with several gentlemen. I was most politely received, and gave his grace some particulars of the curious journey which I had been making with Dr. Johnson. When we rose from table, the Duke said to me, 'I hope you and Dr. Johnson will dine with us to-morrow.' I thanked his grace; but told him, my friend was in a great hurry to get back to London. The Duke, with a kind complacency, said, 'He will stay one day; and I will take care he shall see this place to advantage.' I said, I should be sure to let him know his grace's invitation. As I was going away, the Duke said, 'Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea ?' I thought it best to get over the meeting with the d.u.c.h.ess this night; so respectfully agreed. I was conducted to the drawing room by the Duke, who announced my name; but the d.u.c.h.ess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton[948], and some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of whom I, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very high admiration, had I not been consoled by the obliging attention of the Duke.

When I returned to the inn, I informed Dr. Johnson of the Duke of Argyle's invitation, with which he was much pleased, and readily accepted of it. We talked of a violent contest which was then carrying on, with a view to the next general election for Ayrshire; where one of the candidates, in order to undermine the old and established interest, had artfully held himself out as a champion for the independency of the county against aristocratick influence, and had persuaded several gentlemen into a resolution to oppose every candidate who was supported by peers[949]. 'Foolish fellows! (said Dr. Johnson), don't they see that they are as much dependent upon the Peers one way as the other. The Peers have but to _oppose_ a candidate to ensure him success. It is said the only way to make a pig go forward, is to pull him back by the tail.

These people must be treated like pigs.'

MONDAY, OCTOBER 25.

My acquaintance, the Reverend Mr. John M'Aulay[950], one of the Ministers of Inverary, and brother to our good friend at Calder[951], came to us this morning, and accompanied us to the castle, where I presented Dr. Johnson to the Duke of Argyle. We were shewn through the house; and I never shall forget the impression made upon my fancy by some of the ladies' maids tripping about in neat morning dresses. After seeing for a long time little but rusticity, their lively manner, and gay inviting appearance, pleased me so much, that I thought, for the moment, I could have been a knight-errant for them[952].

We then got into a low one-horse chair, ordered for us by the Duke, in which we drove about the place. Dr. Johnson was much struck by the grandeur and elegance of this princely seat. He thought, however, the castle too low, and wished it had been a story higher. He said, 'What I admire here, is the total defiance of expence.' I had a particular pride in shewing him a great number of fine old trees, to compensate for the nakedness which had made such an impression on him on the eastern coast of Scotland.

When we came in, before dinner, we found the duke and some gentlemen in the hall. Dr. Johnson took much notice of the large collection of arms, which are excellently disposed there. I told what he had said to Sir Alexander M'Donald, of his ancestors not suffering their arms to rust[953]. 'Well, (said the doctor,) but let us be glad we live in times when arms _may_ rust. We can sit to-day at his grace's table, without any risk of being attacked, and perhaps sitting down again wounded or maimed.' The duke placed Dr. Johnson next himself at table. I was in fine spirits; and though sensible that I had the misfortune of not being in favour with the d.u.c.h.ess, I was not in the least disconcerted, and offered her grace some of the dish that was before me. It must be owned that I was in the right to be quite unconcerned, if I could. I was the Duke of Argyle's guest; and I had no reason to suppose that he adopted the prejudices and resentments of the d.u.c.h.ess of Hamilton.

I knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to any body; but that I might have the satisfaction for once to look the d.u.c.h.ess in the face, with a gla.s.s in my hand, I with a respectful air addressed her,--'My Lady d.u.c.h.ess, I have the honour to drink your grace's good health.' I repeated the words audibly, and with a steady countenance.

This was, perhaps, rather too much; but some allowance must be made for human feelings.

The d.u.c.h.ess was very attentive to Dr. Johnson. I know not how a _middle state[954]_ came to be mentioned. Her grace wished to hear him on that point. 'Madam, (said he,) your own relation, Mr. Archibald Campbell, can tell you better about it than I can. He was a bishop of the nonjuring communion, and wrote a book upon the subject[955].' He engaged to get it for her grace. He afterwards gave a full history of Mr. Archibald Campbell, which I am sorry I do not recollect particularly. He said, Mr.

Campbell had been bred a violent Whig, but afterwards 'kept better company, and became a Tory.' He said this with a smile, in pleasant allusion, as I thought, to the opposition between his own political principles and those of the duke's clan. He added that Mr. Campbell, after the revolution, was thrown into gaol on account of his tenets; but, on application by letter to the old Lord Townshend[956], was released; that he always spoke of his Lordship with great grat.i.tude, saying, 'though a _Whig_, he had humanity.'

Dr. Johnson and I pa.s.sed some time together, in June 1784[957], at Pembroke College, Oxford, with the Reverend Dr. Adams, the master; and I having expressed a regret that my note relative to Mr. Archibald Campbell was imperfect, he was then so good as to write with his own hand, on the blank page of my _Journal_, opposite to that which contains what I have now mentioned, the following paragraph; which, however, is not quite so full as the narrative he gave at Inverary:--

'_The Honourable_ ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL _was, I believe, the Nephew[958] of the Marquis of Argyle. He began life by engaging in Monmouth's rebellion, and, to escape the law, lived some time in Surinam. When he returned, he became zealous for episcopacy and monarchy; and at the Revolution adhered not only to the Nonjurors, but to those who refused to communicate with the Church of England, or to be present at any worship where the usurper was mentioned as king. He was, I believe, more than once apprehended in the reign of King William, and once at the accession of George. He was the familiar friend of Hicks[959] and Nelson[960]; a man of letters, but injudicious; and very curious and inquisitive, but credulous. He lived[961] in 1743, or 44, about 75 years old.'_ The subject of luxury having been introduced, Dr. Johnson defended it. 'We have now (said he) a splendid dinner before us; which of all these dishes is unwholesome?' The duke a.s.serted, that he had observed the grandees of Spain diminished in their size by luxury. Dr.

Johnson politely refrained from opposing directly an observation which the duke himself had made; but said, 'Man must be very different from other animals, if he is diminished by good living; for the size of all other animals is increased by it[962].' I made some remark that seemed to imply a belief in _second sight_. The d.u.c.h.ess said, 'I fancy you will be a _Methodist_.' This was the only sentence her grace deigned to utter to me; and I take it for granted, she thought it a good hit on my _credulity_ in the Douglas cause.

A gentleman in company, after dinner, was desired by the duke to go to another room, for a specimen of curious marble, which his grace wished to shew us. He brought a wrong piece, upon which the duke sent him back again. He could not refuse; but, to avoid any appearance of servility, he whistled as he walked out of the room, to shew his independency. On my mentioning this afterwards to Dr. Johnson, he said, it was a nice trait of character.

Dr. Johnson talked a great deal, and was so entertaining, that Lady Betty Hamilton, after dinner, went and placed her chair close to his, leaned upon the back of it, and listened eagerly. It would have made a fine picture to have drawn the Sage and her at this time in their several att.i.tudes. He did not know, all the while, how much he was honoured. I told him afterwards. I never saw him so gentle and complaisant as this day.

We went to tea. The duke and I walked up and down the drawing-room, conversing. The d.u.c.h.ess still continued to shew the same marked coldness for me; for which, though I suffered from it, I made every allowance, considering the very warm part that I had taken for Douglas, in the cause in which she thought her son deeply interested. Had not her grace discovered some displeasure towards me, I should have suspected her of insensibility or dissimulation.

Her grace made Dr. Johnson come and sit by her, and asked him why he made his journey so late in the year. 'Why, madam, (said he,) you know Mr. Boswell must attend the Court of Session, and it does not rise till the twelfth of August.' She said, with some sharpness, 'I _know nothing_ of Mr. Boswell.' Poor Lady Lucy Douglas[963], to whom I mentioned this, observed, 'She knew _too much_ of Mr. Boswell.' I shall make no remark on her grace's speech. I indeed felt it as rather too severe; but when I recollected that my punishment was inflicted by so dignified a beauty, I had that kind of consolation which a man would feel who is strangled by a _silken cord_. Dr. Johnson was all attention to her grace. He used afterwards a droll expression, upon her enjoying the three t.i.tles of Hamilton, Brandon, and Argyle[964]. Borrowing an image from the Turkish empire, he called her a _d.u.c.h.ess_ with _three tails_.

He was much pleased with our visit at the castle of Inverary. The Duke of Argyle was exceedingly polite to him, and upon his complaining of the shelties which he had hitherto ridden being too small for him, his grace told him he should be provided with a good horse to carry him next day.

Mr. John M'Aulay pa.s.sed the evening with us at our inn. When Dr. Johnson spoke of people whose principles were good, but whose practice was faulty, Mr. M'Aulay said, he had no notion of people being in earnest in their good professions, whose practice was not suitable to them. The Doctor grew warm, and said, 'Sir, you are so grossly ignorant of human nature, as not to know that a man may be very sincere in good principles, without having good practice[965]!'

Dr. Johnson was unquestionably in the right; and whoever examines himself candidly, will be satisfied of it, though the inconsistency between principles and practice is greater in some men than in others.

I recollect very little of this night's conversation. I am sorry that indolence came upon me towards the conclusion of our journey, so that I did not write down what pa.s.sed with the same a.s.siduity as during the greatest part of it.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26.

Mr. M'Aulay breakfasted with us, nothing hurt or dismayed by his last night's correction. Being a man of good sense, he had a just admiration of Dr. Johnson.

Either yesterday morning, or this, I communicated to Dr. Johnson, from Mr. M'Aulay's information, the news that Dr. Beattie had got a pension of two hundred pounds a year[966]. He sat up in his bed, clapped his hands, and cried, 'O brave we[967]!'--a peculiar exclamation of his when he rejoices[968].

As we sat over our tea, Mr. Home's tragedy of _Douglas_ was mentioned. I put Dr. Johnson in mind, that once, in a coffee house at Oxford, he called to old Mr. Sheridan, 'How came you, Sir, to give Home a gold medal for writing that foolish play?' and defied Mr. Sheridan to shew ten good lines in it. He did not insist they should be together; but that there were not ten good lines in the whole play[969]. He now persisted in this. I endeavoured to defend that pathetick and beautiful tragedy, and repeated the following pa.s.sage:--

--'Sincerity, Thou first of virtues! let no mortal leave Thy onward path, although the earth should gape, And from the gulph of h.e.l.l destruction cry, To take dissimulation's winding way[970].'

JOHNSON. 'That will not do, Sir. Nothing is good but what is consistent with truth or probability, which this is not. Juvenal, indeed, gives us a n.o.ble picture of inflexible virtue:--

"Es...o...b..nus miles, tutor bonus, arbiter idem Integer: ambiguae si quando citabere testis, Incertaeque rei, Phalaris licet imperet ut sis, Falsus, et admoto dictet perjuria tauro, Summum crede nefas animam praeferre pudori, Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas[2]."'