One morning afterwards, when I found him alone, he communicated to me, with solemn earnestness, a very remarkable circumstance which had happened in the course of his illness, when he was much distressed by the dropsy. He had shut himself up, and employed a day in particular exercises of religion,— fasting, humiliation, and prayer. On a sudden he obtained extraordinary relief, for which he looked up to Heaven with grateful devotion.
He made no direct inference from this fact; but from his manner of telling it, I could perceive that it appeared to him as something more than an incident in the common course of events.
For my own part, I have no difficulty to avow that cast of thinking, which by many modern pretenders to wisdom is called superstitious. But here I think even men of dry rationality may believe, that there was an intermediate interposition of Divine Providence, and that 'the fervent prayer of this righteous man' availed.
On Sunday, May 9, I found Colonel Valiancy, the celebrated antiquarian and Engineer of Ireland, with him.
On Monday, the 10th, I dined with him at Mr. Paradise's, where was a large company; Mr. Bryant, Mr. Joddrel, Mr. Hawkins Browne, &c. On Thursday, the 13th, I dined with him at Mr. Joddrel's, with another large company; the Bishop of Exeter, Lord Monboddo, Mr. Murphy, &c.
On Saturday, May 15, I dined with him at Dr. Brocklesby's, where were Colonel Vallancy, Mr. Murphy, and that ever-cheerful companion Mr. Devaynes, apothecary to his Majesty.
Of these days, and others on which I saw him, I have no memorials, except the general recollection of his being able and animated in conversation, and appearing to relish society as much as the youngest man. I find only these three small particulars:—
When a person was mentioned, who said, 'I have lived fifty-one years in this world without having had ten minutes of uneasiness;' he exclaimed, 'The man who says so, lies: he attempts to impose on human credulity.'
The Bishop of Exeter in vain observed, that men were very different. His Lordship's manner was not impressive, and I learnt afterwards that Johnson did not find out that the person who talked to him was a Prelate; if he had, I doubt not that he would have treated him with more respect; for once talking of George Psalmanazar, whom he reverenced for his piety, he said, 'I should as soon think of contradicting a BISHOP.'
One of the company {likely Boswell – Editor} provoked him greatly by doing what he could least of all bear, which was quoting something of his own writing, against what he then maintained.
'What, Sir, (cried the gentleman,) do you say to
"The busy day, the peaceful night,
Unfelt, uncounted, glided by?"'—
Johnson finding himself thus presented as giving an instance of a man who had lived without uneasiness, was much offended, for he looked upon such a quotation as unfair. His anger burst out in an unjustifiable retort, insinuating that the gentleman's remark was a sally of ebriety {drunkenness – Editor};
'Sir, there is one passion I would advise you to command: when you have drunk out that glass, don't drink another.'
Here was exemplified what Goldsmith said of him, with the aid of a very witty image from one of Cibber's Comedies: 'There is no arguing with Johnson; for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.'
Another was this: when a gentleman of eminence in the literary world was violently censured for attacking people by anonymous paragraphs in newspapers; he, from the spirit of contradiction as I thought, took up his defence, and said, 'Come, come, this is not so terrible a crime; he means only to vex them a little.
I do not say that I should do it; but there is a great difference between him and me; what is fit for Hephaestion is not fit for Alexander.'{Hephaestion and Alexander were best friends for life. – Editor}
Another, when I told him that a young and handsome Countess had said to me, 'I should think that to be praised by Dr. Johnson would make one a fool all one's life;' and that I answered, 'Madam, I shall make him a fool to-day, by repeating this to him,' he said, 'I am too old to be made a fool; but if you say I am made a fool, I shall not deny it. I am much pleased with a compliment, especially from a pretty woman.'
On the evening of Saturday, May 15, he was in fine spirits, at our Essex-Head Club. He told us, 'I dined yesterday at Mrs. Garrick's, with Mrs. Carter, Miss Hannah More, and Miss Fanny Burney. Three such women are not to be found: I know not where I could find a fourth, except Mrs. Lennox, who is superiour to them all.'
BOSWELL. 'What! had you them all to yourself, Sir?'
JOHNSON. 'I had them all as much as they were had; but it might have been better had there been more company there.'
BOSWELL. 'Might not Mrs. Montagu have been a fourth?'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, Mrs. Montagu does not make a trade of her wit; but Mrs. Montagu is a very extraordinary woman; she has a constant stream of conversation, and it is always impregnated; it has always meaning.'
BOSWELL. 'Mr. Burke has a constant stream of conversation.'
JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; if a man were to go by chance at the same time with Burke under a shed, to shun a shower, he would say— "this is an extraordinary man." If Burke should go into a stable to see his horse drest, the ostler would say— we have had an extraordinary man here.'
BOSWELL. 'Foote was a man who never failed in conversation. If he had gone into a stable—'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, if he had gone into a stable, the ostler would have said, here has been a comical fellow; but he would not have respected him.'
BOSWELL. 'And, Sir, the ostler would have answered him, would have given him as good as he brought, as the common saying is.'
JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; and Foote would have answered the ostler.— When Burke does not descend to be merry, his conversation is very superiour indeed. There is no proportion between the powers which he shews in serious talk and in jocularity. When he lets himself down to that, he is in the kennel.'
I have in another place opposed, and I hope with success, Dr. Johnson's very singular and erroneous notion as to Mr. Burke's pleasantry. Mr. Windham now said low to me, that he differed from our great friend in this observation; for that Mr. Burke was often very happy in his merriment. It would not have been right for either of us to have contradicted Johnson at this time, in a Society all of whom did not know and value Mr. Burke as much as we did. It might have occasioned something more rough, and at any rate would probably have checked the flow of Johnson's good-humour.
He called to us with a sudden air of exultation, as the thought started into his mind, 'O! Gentlemen, I must tell you a very great thing. The Empress of Russia has ordered the Rambler to be translated into the Russian language: so I shall be read on the banks of the Wolga. Horace boasts that his fame would extend as far as the banks of the Rhone; now the Wolga is farther from me than the Rhone was from Horace.'
BOSWELL. 'You must certainly be pleased with this, Sir.'
JOHNSON. 'I am pleased Sir, to be sure. A man is pleased to find he has succeeded in that which he has endeavoured to do.'
(classix comix™ is brought to you by Bob’s Bowery Bar, conveniently located at the northwest corner of Bleecker and the Bowery: “I should like to remind our audience members who live in the metropolitan area, or those out-of-towners planning a visit to ‘the big apple’, that my favorite haunt Bob’s Bowery Bar serves its vaunted breakfast menu all day every day from 7am to 4am, so whenever you happen to crawl your way out of oblivion after a night of too-vigorous celebration, you can be assured of a first meal of the day in the great American tradition. I myself am partial to Bob’s Mom’s Fry-Up: a healthy slab of fried country ham, two thick slices of scrapple, two healthy rashers of Irish bacon, breaded ‘n’ fried pickled Jersey tomato; fried Lancaster County mush, home fries, and two eggs, fried the way you like ‘em. And, whatever you do, don’t forget to apply liberal lashings of our house hellfire sauce!”
– Horace P. Sternwall, host and narrator of Bob’s Bowery Bar Presents Philip Morris Commander’s “Blanche Weinberg, Lady Psychiatrist”, broadcast live 8pm Sundays {EST} exclusively on the Dumont Television Network. This week’s play: “If Life Is a Joke, Why Is No One Laughing?”, by Hank Pete Shadrack, starring Kitty Carlisle as “Dr. Blanche”, with special guest star Rin-Tin-Tin as “Fido the Talking Dog”.)
part 254
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