Quotes and notes on James Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson: Part III

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

This is the concluding instalment of what has been my highlights package of James Boswell's biography of the eighteenth-century giant of English literature, Dr Samuel Johnson.

'Johnson is dead. Let us go to the next best. There is nobody; no man can be said to put you in mind of Johnson.'

Part one is at https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2026/04/quotes-and-notes-on-james-boswells-life.html; part two https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2026/04/quotes-and-notes-on-james-boswells-life_23.html. 

For an audio version of this text, replete with my questionable attempts to mimic both Boswell and Johnson, visit https://youtu.be/E9Oks7jZeZs. 

In the year 1779

‘[I] would rather be attacked than unnoticed. For the worst thing you can do to an authour is to be silent as to his works. An assault upon a town is a bad thing; but starving it is still worse; an assault may be unsuccessful; you may have more men killed than you kill; but if you starve the town, you are sure of victory.'

A version of 'The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about’. That, and the idea that indifference is worse than hatred.

‘[B]randy will do soonest for a man what drinking CAN do for him. There are, indeed, few who are able to drink brandy. That is a power rather to be wished for than attained. And yet, (proceeded he,) as in all pleasure hope is a considerable part, I know not but fruition comes too quick by brandy.’
It's why I prefer to drink beer. I pass my alcohol limits too soon with spirits, often with disastrous results.

'He is YOUNG, my Lord; (looking to his Lordship with an arch smile,) all BOYS love liberty, till experience convinces them they are not so fit to govern themselves as they imagined. We are all agreed as to our own liberty; we would have as much of it as we can get; but we are not agreed as to the liberty of others: for in proportion as we take, others must lose. I believe we hardly wish that the mob should have liberty to govern us. When that was the case some time ago, no man was at liberty not to have candles in his windows.'
'Freedom for me. Restraint for others!' Total freedom, of course and as I've written about before, is an impossibility.

‘A particular kind of manufacture fails: those who have been used to work at it, can, for some time, work at nothing else. You meet a man begging; you charge him with idleness: he says, "I am willing to labour. Will you give me work?"—"I cannot."—"Why, then you have no right to charge me with idleness."'
Kind of explains my current predicament. Kind of! I've no problem working, if I can find the right work!

'Aliis laetus, sapiens sibi' ('cheerful for others, wise for himself').

'You may be wise in your study in the morning, and gay in company at a tavern in the evening. Every man is to take care of his own wisdom and his own virtue, without minding too much what others think.’
I could do better on the first part of that. Indeed, I could do better on both aspects!

He, I know not why, shewed upon all occasions an aversion to go to Ireland, where I proposed to him that we should make a tour. JOHNSON. 'It is the last place where I should wish to travel.' BOSWELL. 'Should you not like to see Dublin, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir! Dublin is only a worse capital.' BOSWELL. 'Is not the Giant's-Causeway worth seeing?' JOHNSON. 'Worth seeing? yes; but not worth going to see.'
Yet he had a kindness for the Irish nation, and thus generously expressed himself to a gentleman from that country, on the subject of an UNION which artful Politicians have often had in view—'Do not make an union with us, Sir. We should unite with you, only to rob you. We should have robbed the Scotch, if they had had any thing of which we could have robbed them.'
Johnson knew what a union would entail!

'Everything about his character and manners was forcible and violent; there never was any moderation; many a day did he fast, many a year did he refrain from wine; but when he did eat, it was voraciously; when he did drink wine, it was copiously. He could practise abstinence, but not temperance.'

'The Ambassadour says well—His Excellency observes—' And then he expanded and enriched the little that had been said, in so strong a manner, that it appeared something of consequence. This was exceedingly entertaining to the company who were present, and many a time afterwards it furnished a pleasant topick of merriment: 'The Ambassadour says well,' became a laughable term of applause, when no mighty matter had been expressed.
The opposite, in a way, to my father’s understated use of ‘very good’ for something that was quite noteworthy.

‘Surely I shall not spend my whole life with my own total disapprobation.’
Johnson wrote this on the day of his seventy-second birthday in 1780. I can relate to the sentiments.

He would allow no settled indulgence of idleness upon principle, and always repelled every attempt to urge excuses for it. A friend one day suggested, that it was not wholesome to study soon after dinner. JOHNSON: "Ah, Sir, don't give way to such a fancy. At one time of my life I had taken it into my head that it was not wholesome to study between breakfast and dinner."
One can always find an excuse not to do something!

‘A Frenchman must be always talking, whether he knows any thing of the matter or not; an Englishman is content to say nothing, when he has nothing to say.’
'You say it best, when you say nothing at all.'

‘Nil te quaesiveris extra.’
'Stretch your arm no further than your sleeve will reach.' Johnson said this to Goldsmith in relation to his modest accommodation at the time. It was said in a reassuring way.

Of Dr. Goldsmith he said, 'No man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had.'
I guess this can be viewed as advice for one to stick to his area of expertise/talents.

1781, aged 72

In 1781 Johnson at last completed his Lives of the Poets, of which he gives this account: 'Some time in March I finished the Lives of the Poets, which I wrote in my usual way, dilatorily and hastily, unwilling to work, and working with vigour and haste.' In a memorandum previous to this, he says of them: 'Written, I hope, in such a manner as may tend to the promotion of piety.'
The inspiration comes in fits and starts.

Every thing about his character and manners was forcible and violent; there never was any moderation; many a day did he fast, many a year did he refrain from wine; but when he did eat, it was voraciously; when he did drink wine, it was copiously. He could practise abstinence, but not temperance.
When he went at it, he went at it! One knows a character or two who fit that mould.

I mentioned his scale of liquors;—claret for boys,—port for men,—brandy for heroes. 'Then (said Mr. Burke,) let me have claret: I love to be a boy; to have the careless gaiety of boyish days.' JOHNSON. 'I should drink claret too, if it would give me that; but it does not: it neither makes boys men, nor men boys. You'll be drowned by it, before it has any effect upon you.'
Careful, there, Edmund! I get the sentiment, though. What one would give to go back to one's younger days.

This [asking Johnson a risky question] was risking a good deal, and required the boldness of a General of Irish Volunteers to make the attempt.
The fighting Irish, eh?

‘[W]henever there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against a character. They are provoked to attack it.’
Like when people say how *amazing* Colombia — or anything, for that matter — is, I feel compelled to counter. Everything has its faults!

‘[A] man does not love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went in.’
Oftentimes I wish I could leave a tienda bar in the same state that I entered it!

‘Lectures were once useful; but now, when all can read, and books are so numerous, lectures are unnecessary. If your attention fails, and you miss a part of a lecture, it is lost; you cannot go back as you do upon a book.’
One may need guidance, all the same. I guess that's the idea of tutorials: do the assigned readings, then discuss them with fellow students and a tutor.

I [Boswell] was not a little amused by observing Allen perpetually struggling to talk in the manner of Johnson, like the little frog in the fable blowing himself up to resemble the stately ox.
Don't try to be somebody you're not. Many of us could do with heeding that advice more regularly.

‘I love Blair's Sermons. Though the dog is a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian, and every thing he should not be, I was the first to praise them. Such was my candour,' (smiling.)
The great Dr Johnson indeed, admiring a man who was not only a Presbyterian, but a Scotsman to boot — and one whom he might like to boot!

WILKES. (naming a celebrated orator,) 'Amidst all the brilliancy of ———'s imagination, and the exuberance of his wit, there is a strange want of TASTE. It was observed of Apelles's Venus, that her flesh seemed as if she had been nourished by roses: his oratory would sometimes make one suspect that he eats potatoes and drinks whisky.'
Might John Wilkes have been referring to Edmund Burke, with the potatoes/whiskey jibe a little dig at the Irish?

‘Always, Sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. He whose inclination prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his own accord, will love you more than one whom you have been at pains to attach to you.’
These days, it seems too many expect to be up in the friendship deal. Or that might be just my cynicism of genuine friendship after years living in Colombia.

Mrs. Thrale justly and wittily accounted for such conduct by saying, that Johnson's conversation was by much too strong for a person accustomed to obsequiousness and flattery; it was mustard in a young child's mouth!
Johnson was certainly no yes-man. He may not always have been right, but he told it as he saw it, a characteristic that is sorely lacking amongst many in the public sphere these days.

Although upon most occasions I never heard a more strenuous advocate for the advantages of wealth, than Dr. Johnson: he this day, I know not from what caprice, took the other side. 'I have not observed (said he,) that men of very large fortunes enjoy any thing extraordinary that makes happiness.’
A certain amount of wealth can bring "happiness" i.e. enough to ensure that one isn't constantly worrying about paying for the basics. But, as has been said elsewhere, ‘The more one makes, the more one spends.’ Although some folk become even more parsimonious the more money they have!

‘Sir, a man may be so much of every thing, that he is nothing of any thing.’

Johnson's charity to the poor was uniform and extensive, both from inclination and principle. He not only bestowed liberally out of his own purse, but what is more difficult as well as rare, would beg from others, when he had proper objects in view. This he did judiciously as well as humanely. Mr. Philip Metcalfe tells me, that when he has asked him for some money for persons in distress, and Mr. Metcalfe has offered what Johnson thought too much, he insisted on taking less, saying, 'No, no, Sir; we must not PAMPER them.'
Enough to help those in distress, but don't go overboard. A hand up, rather than a handout.

In one of his little memorandum-books is the following minute:
August 9, 3 P.M., aetat. 72, in the summer-house at Streatham.
'My purpose is,
To pass eight hours every day in some serious employment.
Having prayed, I purpose to employ the next six weeks upon the Italian language, for my settled study.’
Keeping the mind occupied as one ages. It's important at any age, though.

‘[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.’
I’m pretty sure if I had my own country estate, I wouldn't leave it to go and live in a big city. I'd visit and stay in the city for periods, for sure, but give up living in the country estate indefinitely, no!

‘Fox never talks in private company; not from any determination not to talk, but because he has not the first motion. 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.’
So, according to Johnson, Burke spoke out of passion, Fox only when it was likely to win him favour. The wily Fox, perhaps!

‘A man cannot make a bad use of his money, so far as regards Society, if he does not hoard it; for if he either spends it or lends it out, Society has the benefit. It is in general better to spend money than to give it away; for industry is more promoted by spending money than by giving it away. A man who spends his money is sure he is doing good with it: he is not so sure when he gives it away. A man who spends ten thousand a year will do more good than a man who spends two thousand and gives away eight.’
One does need to keep a little in reserve all the same. How much is “a little” is very much open to interpretation, however!

‘Sir, a man may be so much of every thing, that he is nothing of any thing.’
‘A jack of all trades, a master of none.’ Or, ‘A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than master of one.’ A versatile factotum has his value. Yet, there is a risk where you can do many things fairly well but don't properly focus on any one of them.

‘Nec sufferre queat majoris pondera gemmae.’
‘Nor can it bear the weight of a greater gem.’ Said in reply to Boswell's comment that narrow-minded folk would be satisfied with a simple piece of jewellery rather than a great diamond. I get the metaphor, but in terms of actual materialism, I am more of a minimalist. To refer to an earlier comment of Johnson's, 'Stretch your arm no further than your sleeve will reach.’

‘A man should pass a part of his time with THE LAUGHERS, by which means any thing ridiculous or particular about him might be presented to his view, and corrected.’
Yes, we should all be able to take a bit of mocking, within reason.

‘Ah, Dr. Johnson [asked a Scotsman], what would you have said of Buchanan, had he been an Englishman?' 'Why, Sir, (said Johnson, after a little pause,) I should NOT have said of Buchanan, had he been an ENGLISHMAN, what I will now say of him as a SCOTCHMAN,—that he was the only man of genius his country ever produced.’

He disapproved of parentheses; and I believe in all his voluminous writings, not half a dozen of them will be found.

[T]here lurked about him a propensity to paultry saving. One day I owned to him that 'I was occasionally troubled with a fit of NARROWNESS.' 'Why, Sir, (said he,) so am I. BUT I DO NOT TELL IT.' He has now and then borrowed a shilling of me; and when I asked for it again, seemed to be rather out of humour. A droll little circumstance once occurred: as if he meant to reprimand my minute exactness as a creditor, he thus addressed me;—'Boswell, LEND me sixpence—NOT TO BE REPAID.’
I wouldn't have been inclined to lend him money, so!

‘Sir, there is no settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea.’
The louse and the flea might argue the toss, though! Leave them at it!

‘Gravina, an Italian critick, observes, that every man desires to see that of which he has read; but no man desires to read an account of what he has seen: so much does description fall short of reality. Description only excites curiosity: seeing satisfies it.’
I would add that few people like to read an account of a subject they think they know well, which may be an impediment. For example, I often find it difficult to read, listen to or watch material on Colombia.

‘People in general do not willingly read, if they can have any thing else to amuse them. There must be an external impulse; emulation, or vanity, or avarice. The progress which the understanding makes through a book, has more pain than pleasure in it. Language is scanty, and inadequate to express the nice gradations and mixtures of our feelings. No man reads a book of science from pure inclination. The books that we do read with pleasure are light compositions, which contain a quick succession of events.'
For sure, one often has to force oneself to read. I do, anyway! Now, I do have a desire to read more, but I am easily distracted from doing so.

'A lady will take Jonathan Wild as readily as St. Austin, if he has threepence more; and, what is worse, her parents will give her to him.'

‘[C]lear your MIND of cant . . . You may say, "These are bad times; it is a melancholy thing to be reserved to such times." You don't mind the times. You tell a man, "I am sorry you had such bad weather the last day of your journey, and were so much wet." You don't care six-pence whether he is wet or dry. You may TALK in this manner; it is a mode of talking in Society: but don't THINK foolishly.’
Quite. Even when we ask somebody how they are, most if not all of the time we don't really care how they are!

‘I would rather trust my money to a man who has no hands, and so a physical impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest principles.’
In other words, you can never truly trust people. Nobody is completely virtuous.

‘Get as much force of mind as you can. Live within your income. Always have something saved at the end of the year. Let your imports be more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong.’
Nothing revelatory in this, but it's good to know he said it.

In a letter to Edmund Allen:
‘It has pleased GOD, this morning, to deprive me of the powers of speech; and as I do not know but that it may be his further good pleasure to deprive me soon of my senses.’
Good old god works in mysterious ways, for sure!

‘As I know more of mankind I expect less of them, and am ready now to call a man A GOOD MAN, upon easier terms than I was formerly.’
One’s expectations become lower as one ages. I guess it's happening to me, too.

[T]o Mr. Kemble, he said, 'Are you, Sir, one of those enthusiasts who believe yourself transformed into the very character you represent?' Upon Mr. Kemble's answering that he had never felt so strong a persuasion himself; 'To be sure not, Sir, (said Johnson;) the thing is impossible. And if Garrick really believed himself to be that monster, Richard the Third, he deserved to be hanged every time he performed it.’
It could be said we're always playing a character, even when we're *being* ourselves. Or is it just me who thinks so?!

‘[C]ondolences and consolations are such common and such useless things, that the omission of them is no great crime: and my own diseases occupy my mind, and engage my care.’
I tend to agree about condolences and consolations, although sometimes it is nice to know that somebody does care, even if just superficially. Another great English writer, but one of more recent vintage and who liked America, Christopher Hitchens, in his memoir Hitch-22, endorses the idea of sending condolences.

1784, aged 75

'There is no arguing with Johnson; for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.’
Those were Goldsmith’s words. Of course, this isn't to say that Johnson was always right, although he often was, he was just difficult to argue against!

‘Sir, he [Mr Langton] brought me a sheet of paper, on which he had written down several texts of Scripture, recommending christian charity. And when I questioned him what occasion I had given for such an animadversion, all that he could say amounted to this,—that I sometimes contradicted people in conversation. Now what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?' BOSWELL. 'I suppose he meant the MANNER of doing it; roughly,—and harshly.' JOHNSON. 'And who is the worse for that?' BOSWELL. 'It hurts people of weak nerves.' JOHNSON. 'I know no such weak-nerved people.' Mr. Burke, to whom I related this conference, said, 'It is well, if when a man comes to die, he has nothing heavier upon his conscience than having been a little rough in conversation.’
Hear, hear Mr Burke!

'I think I am like Squire Richard in The Journey to London, "I'm never strange in a strange place."' He was truly SOCIAL. He strongly censured what is much too common in England among persons of condition,—maintaining an absolute silence, when unknown to each other; as for instance, when occasionally brought together in a room before the master or mistress of the house has appeared. 'Sir, that is being so uncivilised as not to understand the common rights of humanity.’
We could say that Johnson was more Irish than stiff-upper-lip English in this sense!

‘[T]he greatest profligate will be as well received as the man of the greatest virtue, and this by a very good woman, by a woman who says her prayers three times a day . . . No, no, a lady will take Jonathan Wild as readily as St. Austin, if he has threepence more; and, what is worse, her parents will give her to him. Women have a perpetual envy of our vices; they are less vicious than we, not from choice, but because we restrict them; they are the slaves of order and fashion; their virtue is of more consequence to us than our own, so far as concerns this world.’
And once they were *freed*, they readily embraced our vices! I've touched on many of the points Johnson raises here. See, for example, The wages of love, A prostitute by any other name, and Dealing with a sexed-up society.

‘You put me in mind of Dr. Barrowby, the physician, who was very fond of swine's flesh. One day, when he was eating it, he said, "I wish I was a Jew." "Why so? (said somebody;) the Jews are not allowed to eat your favourite meat." "Because, (said he,) I should then have the gust of eating it, with the pleasure of sinning."’
The hellishly good forbidden fruit.

I had the resolution to ask Johnson whether he thought that the roughness of his manner had been an advantage or not, and if he would not have done more good if he had been more gentle. I proceeded to answer myself thus: 'Perhaps it has been of advantage, as it has given weight to what you said: you could not, perhaps, have talked with such authority without it.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; I have done more good as I am. Obscenity and Impiety have always been repressed in my company.' BOSWELL. 'True, Sir; and that is more than can be said of every Bishop. Greater liberties have been taken in the presence of a Bishop, though a very good man, from his being milder, and therefore not commanding such awe. Yet, Sir, many people who might have been benefited by your conversation, have been frightened away. A worthy friend of ours has told me, that he has often been afraid to talk to you.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, he need not have been afraid, if he had any thing rational to say. If he had not, it was better he did not talk.’
We are who we are. I can be quite fiery, impatient, but if I wasn't, I wouldn't be me. Has my temperament been a net benefit for me? That's hard to know. And yes, we can always try to be better, where we feel it's needed.

‘I will be conquered; I will not capitulate.’

‘We have more respect for a man who robs boldly on the highway, than for a fellow who jumps out of a ditch, and knocks you down behind your back. Courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is always respected, even when it is associated with vice.’
Quite. Down with those sneaky, pernicious, two-faced cowards.

‘That he [God] is infinitely good, as far as the perfection of his nature will allow, I certainly believe; but it is necessary for good upon the whole, that individuals should be punished. As to an INDIVIDUAL, therefore, he is not infinitely good; and as I cannot be SURE that I have fulfilled the conditions on which salvation is granted, I am afraid I may be one of those who shall be damned.’
If Johnson has been sent to hell, then I shall certainly be there. Maybe I already am there!

[W]e passed to discourse of life, whether it was upon the whole more happy or miserable. Johnson was decidedly for the balance of misery: in confirmation of which I maintained, that no man would choose to lead over again the life which he had experienced. Johnson acceded to that opinion in the strongest terms.
I concur. Life is a sea of mediocrity, if not quite misery, which receives an occasional shower of joy. These freshwater rains soon match the composition of the salty sea, however.

‘[N]o man is a hypocrite in his pleasures.’
Said in reply to Joshua Reynolds in relation to ‘taking the altitude’ of a man’s tastes.

The difference, he observed, between a well-bred and an ill-bred man is this: 'One immediately attracts your liking, the other your aversion. You love the one till you find reason to hate him; you hate the other till you find reason to love him.'
I think most decent people tend to like me, until I give them a reason not to!

[H]e had no taste for painting.
Said Boswell. That makes two of us! Well, I'm certainly not a painting fanatic! Later, in reply to Boswell's remark about the inferiority of painting to poetry, Johnson said, ‘Painting, Sir, can illustrate, but cannot inform.’

‘This is taking prodigious pains about a man.'
'O! Sir, (said I, with most sincere affection,) your friends would do every thing for you.' He paused, grew more and more agitated, till tears started into his eyes, and he exclaimed with fervent emotion, 'GOD bless you all.' I was so affected that I also shed tears. After a short silence, he renewed and extended his grateful benediction, 'GOD bless you all, for JESUS CHRIST'S sake.' We both remained for some time unable to speak. He rose suddenly and quitted the room, quite melted in tenderness.
Johnson's reaction on hearing that his friends had asked the government to pay for his planned trip to Italy for the coming winter.

'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.’
Horses for courses, as the saying goes. I think I am fit for the country, or at least a country town as opposed to a sprawling metropolis.

‘I will be conquered; I will not capitulate.’
I, too, wish to leave the land of the living in this way. Go down fighting, with vigour.

It is strange, however, to think, that Johnson was not free from that general weakness of being averse to execute a will, so that he delayed it from time to time.
It's a task few of us seem eager to carry out.

Johnson, with that native fortitude, which, amidst all his bodily distress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, asked Dr. Brocklesby, as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he could recover. 'Give me (said he,) a direct answer.' The Doctor having first asked him if he could hear the whole truth, which way soever it might lead, and being answered that he could, declared that, in his opinion, he could not recover without a miracle. 'Then, (said Johnson,) I will take no more physick, not even my opiates; for I have prayed that I may render up my soul to GOD unclouded.’
Principled and strong right to the end.

The book ends with these words, said by an unnamed acquaintance of Boswell's. I can think of no better way but to also end with them:
‘He has made a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up, but which nothing has a tendency to fill up. Johnson is dead. Let us go to the next best:—there is nobody; no man can be said to put you in mind of Johnson.’

Quotes and notes on James Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson: Part II

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

In this instalment, we get Johnson's take on the benefits of socialising in a tavern as well as the pros and cons of drinking alcohol; we see his fondness for the Irish, dislike of the Scottish and utter hatred for the upstart American colonists; he gives us his considered advice on both reading and writing; and we see how he wasn't a believer in soulmates — or children!

Samuel Johnson and James Boswell: Boozing buddies, before Johnson gave up alcohol, that is.

An audio version of this text is available at https://youtu.be/BAodQcX1FGY. It makes for a good accompaniment to get an idea of what both Boswell and Johnson sounded like, as I envisioned them, anyway! In this text version, my observations/remarks are in italics.

For Part I, see https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2026/04/quotes-and-notes-on-james-boswells-life.html.

1772:

‘A cow is a very good animal in the field; but we turn her out of a garden.’
She's not always a good animal in the field, all the same! I speak from experience!

I [Boswell] at last had recourse to the maxim, in vino veritas, a man who is well warmed with wine will speak truth. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, that may be an argument for drinking, if you suppose men in general to be liars. But, Sir, I would not keep company with a fellow, who lyes as long as he is sober, and whom you must make drunk before you can get a word of truth out of him.'
Well said, Dr Johnson.

'What is CLIMATE to happiness? Place me in the heart of Asia, should I not be exiled? What proportion does climate bear to the complex system of human life?'
I think it plays an important part. It often does for me, anyway.

‘As they say of a generous man, it is a pity he is not rich, we may say of Goldsmith, it is a pity he is not knowing. He would not keep his knowledge to himself.’

1773 and 1774

He told me that he had twelve or fourteen times attempted to keep a journal of his life, but never could persevere. He advised me to do it. 'The great thing to be recorded, (said he,) is the state of your own mind; and you should write down every thing that you remember, for you cannot judge at first what is good or bad; and write immediately while the impression is fresh, for it will not be the same a week afterwards.'
Since reading those lines, I’ve been trying to keep a diary.

'It is maintaining that you may lie to the publick; for you lie when you call that right which you think wrong, or the reverse.'
Toeing the party line, saying what you think is acceptable to others, rather than saying what you really think. I do try to be truthful to myself at all times.

'He had long before indulged most unfavourable sentiments of our fellow-subjects in America. For, as early as 1769, I was told by Dr. John Campbell, that he had said of them, "Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful for any thing we allow them short of hanging."'

He observed that 'The Irish mix better with the English than the Scotch do; their language is nearer to English; as a proof of which, they succeed very well as players, which Scotchmen do not. Then, Sir, they have not that extreme nationality which we find in the Scotch. I will do you, Boswell, the justice to say, that you are the most UNSCOTTIFIED of your countrymen. You are almost the only instance of a Scotchman that I have known, who did not at every other sentence bring in some other Scotchman.'
Over the years, plenty of Irish have demonstrated ‘that extreme nationality’ that Johnson seems to loathe. And did not the Irish, some of them anyway, go to battle with Britain for national self-determination?

'Why, Sir, all ignorant savages will laugh when they are told of the advantages of civilized life. Were you to tell men who live without houses, how we pile brick upon brick, and rafter upon rafter, and that after a house is raised to a certain height, a man tumbles off a scaffold, and breaks his neck; he would laugh heartily at our folly in building; but it does not follow that men are better without houses. No, Sir, (holding up a slice of a good loaf,) this is better than the bread tree.'

'The Irish are in a most unnatural state; for we see there the minority prevailing over the majority. There is no instance, even in the ten persecutions, of such severity as that which the Protestants of Ireland have exercised against the Catholicks. Did we tell them we have conquered them, it would be above board: to punish them by confiscation and other penalties, as rebels, was monstrous injustice. King William was not their lawful sovereign: he had not been acknowledged by the Parliament of Ireland, when they appeared in arms against him.'
Hear, hear, Dr Johnson!

. . . Addison, who was content with the fame of his writings, and did not aim also at excellency in conversation, for which he found himself unfit; and that he said to a lady who complained of his having talked little in company, 'Madam, I have but ninepence in ready money, but I can draw for a thousand pounds.' I observed, that Goldsmith had a great deal of gold in his cabinet, but, not content with that, was always taking out his purse. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and that so often an empty purse!'

1775, aged 66

My much-valued friend Dr. Barnard, now Bishop of Killaloc, having once expressed to him an apprehension, that if he should visit Ireland he might treat the people of that country more unfavourably than he had done the Scotch, he answered, with strong pointed double-edged wit, 'Sir, you have no reason to be afraid of me. The Irish are not in a conspiracy to cheat the world by false representations of the merits of their countrymen. No, Sir; the Irish are a FAIR PEOPLE;—they never speak well of one another.'
He's not wrong there!

He had long before indulged most unfavourable sentiments of our fellow-subjects in America. For, as early as 1769, I was told by Dr. John Campbell, that he had said of them, 'Sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful for any thing we allow them short of hanging.'
The Yankee tax evaders, eh?!

He made the common remark on the unhappiness which men who have led a busy life experience, when they retire in expectation of enjoying themselves at ease, and that they generally languish for want of their habitual occupation, and wish to return to it. He mentioned as strong an instance of this as can well be imagined. 'An eminent tallow-chandler in London, who had acquired a considerable fortune, gave up the trade in favour of his foreman, and went to live at a country-house near town. He soon grew weary, and paid frequent visits to his old shop, where he desired they might let him know their melting-days, and he would come and assist them; which he accordingly did. Here, Sir, was a man, to whom the most disgusting circumstance in the business to which he had been used was a relief from idleness.'
Idleness and retirement; most of us always need something to occupy our minds, to be at something that seems worthwhile.

‘When a man writes from his own mind, he writes very rapidly. The greatest part of a writer's time is spent in reading, in order to write: a man will turn over half a library to make one book.’

'Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.' But let it be considered, that he did not mean a real and generous love of our country, but that pretended patriotism which so many, in all ages and countries, have made a cloak for self-interest.

He again advised me to keep a journal fully and minutely, but not to mention such trifles as, that meat was too much or too little done, or that the weather was fair or rainy. He had, till very near his death, a contempt for the notion that the weather affects the human frame.
Again, I disagree. The weather often does affect my mind, even though I know there’s nothing I can do to change it. And, of course, it can and does affect one’s health.

‘No, Sir; admiration and love are like being intoxicated with champagne; judgement and friendship like being enlivened.’
The former is ephemeral and often leaves one with a bad head and the blues. The latter is longer-lasting and tends to make one stronger.

'Their learning is like bread in a besieged town: every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal.' 'There is (said he,) in Scotland, a diffusion of learning, a certain portion of it widely and thinly spread. A merchant there has as much learning as one of their clergy.’
He never missed an opportunity to have a go at the Scots!

‘To be sure not, Sir. I believe marriages would in general be as happy, and often more so, if they were all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon a due consideration of characters and circumstances, without the parties having any choice in the matter.’

‘I was glad to go abroad, and, perhaps, glad to come home; which is, in other words, I was, I am afraid, weary of being at home, and weary of being abroad. Is not this the state of life?’
I can relate to that. I’m happy to be on the move, then, after a time, I’m happy to get back to a more settled existence. And then I want to get moving again. One is never truly “settled”.

It was a maxim with him that a man should not let himself down, by speaking a language which he speaks imperfectly. Indeed, we must have often observed how inferiour, how much like a child a man appears, who speaks a broken tongue.
I agree to a point, but one has to start somewhere when learning a foreign tongue.

1776, aged 67

On the benefits of inns/taverns, or pubs as we say today.
'There is no private house, (said he) in which people can enjoy themselves so well, as at a capital tavern. Let there be ever so great plenty of good things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much desire that every body should be easy; in the nature of things it cannot be: there must always be some degree of care and anxiety. The master of the house is anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man's house, as if it were his own. Whereas, at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety. You are sure you are welcome: and the more noise you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. No servants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are incited by the prospect of an immediate reward, in proportion as they please. No, Sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.'
I couldn't agree more! Although it's the tienda for me in Colombia. And the panaderías, of course. Alas, the Irish pub seems to be dying a death, particularly in rural areas.

‘I [Sir John Hawkins] have heard him assert, that a tavern chair was the throne of human felicity.—"As soon," said he, "as I enter the door of a tavern, I experience an oblivion of care, and a freedom from solicitude [concern] : when I am seated, I find the master courteous, and the servants obsequious to my call; anxious to know and ready to supply my wants: wine there exhilarates my spirits, and prompts me to free conversation and an interchange of discourse with those whom I most love: I dogmatise and am contradicted, and in this conflict of opinions and sentiments I find delight."’

‘Marriage is the best state for a man in general; and every man is a worse man, in proportion as he is unfit for the married state.’

‘To be sure not, Sir. I believe marriages would in general be as happy, and often more so, if they were all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon a due consideration of characters and circumstances, without the parties having any choice in the matter.’
So Dr Johnson wasn’t a believer in soulmates, it seems! I have touched on this before, too. See https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2022/10/everlasting-love.html.

Dr. Johnson talked with approbation of one who had attained to the state of the philosophical wise man, that is to have no want of any thing.
I'm approaching that state, aren't I?! Or, it might be more the case that I’m telling myself I have no want of anything because I’m not in a position to have much!

He said, 'It is commonly a weak man who marries for love.' We then talked of marrying women of fortune; and I mentioned a common remark, that a man may be, upon the whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very small portion, because a woman of fortune will be proportionally expensive; whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate in expenses. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this is not true. A woman of fortune being used to the handling of money, spends it judiciously: but a woman who gets the command of money for the first time upon her marriage, has such a gust in spending it, that she throws it away with great profusion.'
Thus, I should be looking for a woman of fortune. But would such a woman take a modest man like me?!

'There are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as there are fruits which are not good till they are rotten.'

‘If I were in the country, and were distressed by that malady, I would force myself to take a book; and every time I did it I should find it the easier. Melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by every means but drinking.’
Some of us may need to try harder on the ‘read more, drink less’ front. I do find the drinking-less side of it harder to do in Colombia compared to Ireland.

'No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.' Numerous instances to refute this will occur to all who are versed in the history of literature (Boswell's text).
Introducing blockhead extraordinaire, Brendan ‘Wrong Way’ Corrigan! But Boswell is right, the instances of those who wrote for little or no financial recompense are most likely greater than those who have received payment.

He appeared to have a pleasure in contradiction, especially when any opinion whatever was delivered with an air of confidence; so that there was hardly any topick, if not one of the great truths of Religion and Morality, that he might not have been incited to argue, either for or against.
I have a tendency to do the same. Or at least to try and see the other sides of an argument and put them forward for consideration, even if I don’t agree with them.

'[I]t is better that some should be unhappy, than that none should be happy, which would be the case in a general state of equality.'
Dr Johnson wasn't a communist or socialist anyway.

'We may be excused for not caring much about other people's children, for there are many who care very little about their own children. It may be observed, that men, who from being engaged in business, or from their course of life in whatever way, seldom see their children, do not care much about them. I myself should not have had much fondness for a child of my own.' MRS. THRALE. 'Nay, Sir, how can you talk so?' JOHNSON. 'At least, I never wished to have a child.'
Keep your children to yourself, if you can even do that!

‘[B]efore dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding; and those who are conscious of their inferiority, have the modesty not to talk. When they have drunk wine, every man feels himself happy, and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous: but he is not improved; he is only not sensible of his defects . . . I also admit, that there are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as there are fruits which are not good till they are rotten.’
Indeed! Like medlar fruit, as Johnson went on to say. I know a few who fit this description, they’re not good until they’re rotten!

‘[F]or general improvement, a man should read whatever his immediate inclination prompts him to; though, to be sure, if a man has a science to learn, he must regularly and resolutely advance.’. . . '[W]hat we read with inclination makes a much stronger impression. If we read without inclination, half the mind is employed in fixing the attention; so there is but one half to be employed on what we read.' He told us, he read Fielding's Amelia through without stopping. He said, 'if a man begins to read in the middle of a book, and feels an inclination to go on, let him not quit it, to go to the beginning. He may perhaps not feel again the inclination.'
I have found myself at times sticking with certain books that don’t interest me that much. But, there have been few books that I haven’t at least got something out of, hence my tendency to persevere.

We were by no means pleased with our inn at Bristol. 'Let us see now, (said I,) how we should describe it.' Johnson was ready with his raillery. 'Describe it, Sir?—Why, it was so bad that Boswell wished to be in Scotland!'
Like when I long to be back in Ireland! I jest, kind of!

1777, aged 68:

‘Tell Mrs. Boswell that I shall taste her marmalade cautiously at first. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. Beware, says the Italian proverb, of a reconciled enemy.’
'I fear the Greeks even when bearing gifts', from Virgil's Aeneid, said by a Trojan priest warning his people about a large wooden gift from the Greeks.

‘Sir, we disapprove of him, not because he soon forgets his grief, for the sooner it is forgotten the better, but because we suppose, that if he forgets his wife or his friend soon, he has not had much affection for them.'
We do, all the same, have to try to move on, deal with the new normal, after grief.

Talking of biography, I said, in writing a life, a man's peculiarities should be mentioned, because they mark his character. JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question is, whether a man's vices should be mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned that Addison and Parnell drank too freely: for people will probably more easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; so that more ill may be done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth.' Here was an instance of his varying from himself in talk; for when Lord Hailes and he sat one morning calmly conversing in my house at Edinburgh, I well remember that Dr. Johnson maintained, that 'If a man is to write A Panegyrick, he may keep vices out of sight; but if he professes to write A Life, he must represent it really as it was:' and when I objected to the danger of telling that Parnell drank to excess, he said, that 'it would produce an instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it was seen, that even the learning and genius of Parnell could be debased by it.' And in the Hebrides he maintained, as appears from my Journal, that a man's intimate friend should mention his faults, if he writes his life.
Johnson's contradictions. What did he really think? I suggest the latter.

He told us 'that whatever a man's distemper was, Dr. Nichols would not attend him as a physician, if his mind was not at ease; for he believed that no medicines would have any influence. He once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none of the medicines he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? She said no. He continued his attendance some time, still without success. At length the man's wife told him, she had discovered that her husband's affairs WERE in a bad way. When Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton said to him, "Your pulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of fever which you have: is your mind at ease?" Goldsmith answered it was not.'
As per Gabor Maté's book, When the Body Says No.

‘Goldsmith was a plant that flowered late.’
There's hope for some of us yet!

A fortress which soon surrenders has its walls less shattered than when a long and obstinate resistance is made.
Boswell's summation of Johnson's view of those who need to drink a lot to get drunk.

We talked of employment being absolutely necessary to preserve the mind from wearying and growing fretful, especially in those who have a tendency to melancholy; and I mentioned to him a saying which somebody had related of an American savage, who, when an European was expatiating on all the advantages of money, put this question: 'Will it purchase OCCUPATION?' JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this saying is too refined for a savage. And, Sir, money WILL purchase occupation; it will purchase all the conveniences of life; it will purchase variety of company; it will purchase all sorts of entertainment.'
I can see both sides to this. One needs to be doing something, but if one has enough money, one's occupation can be one's hobby: writing, reading, playing sports, travelling, etc. The problem is when one has no employment and no savings but still needs to be at something to keep the mind from fretting.

'I compared Johnson at this time to a warm West-Indian climate, where you have a bright sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage, luscious fruits; but where the same heat sometimes produces thunder, lightning, earthquakes, in a terrible degree.'

'Now, Sir, to talk of RESPECT for a PLAYER!' (smiling disdainfully.) BOSWELL. 'There, Sir, you are always heretical: you never will allow merit to a player.' JOHNSON. 'Merit, Sir! what merit? Do you respect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-singer?' BOSWELL. 'No, Sir: but we respect a great player, as a man who can conceive lofty sentiments, and can express them gracefully.' JOHNSON. 'What, Sir, a fellow who claps a hump on his back, and a lump on his leg, and cries "I am Richard the Third"? Nay, Sir, a ballad-singer is a higher man, for he does two things; he repeats and he sings: there is both recitation and musick in his performance: the player only recites.' BOSWELL. 'My dear Sir! you may turn anything into ridicule. I allow, that a player of farce is not entitled to respect; he does a little thing: but he who can represent exalted characters, and touch the noblest passions, has very respectable powers; and mankind have agreed in admiring great talents for the stage. We must consider, too, that a great player does what very few are capable to do: his art is a very rare faculty. WHO can repeat Hamlet's soliloquy, "To be, or not to be," as Garrick does it?' JOHNSON. 'Any body may. Jemmy, there (a boy about eight years old, who was in the room,) will do it as well in a week.' BOSWELL. 'No, no, Sir: and as a proof of the merit of great acting, and of the value which mankind set upon it, Garrick has got a hundred thousand pounds.' JOHNSON. 'Is getting a hundred thousand pounds a proof of excellence? That has been done by a scoundrel commissary.'
This was most fallacious reasoning. I was SURE, for once, that I had the best side of the argument. I boldly maintained the just distinction between a tragedian and a mere theatrical droll; between those who rouse our terrour and pity, and those who only make us laugh. 'If (said I,) Betterton and Foote were to walk into this room, you would respect Betterton much more than Foote.' JOHNSON. 'If Betterton were to walk into this room with Foote, Foote would soon drive him out of it. Foote, Sir, quatenus Foote, has powers superiour to them all.'
And look at the way many exalt Hollywood actors today, as I've critiqued ofttimes before.

I perceived that he pronounced the word heard, as if spelt with a double e, heerd, instead of sounding it herd, as is most usually done. He said, his reason was, that if it was pronounced herd, there would be a single exception from the English pronunciation of the syllable ear, and he thought it better not to have that exception.
Makes sense in a way, as in ear > hear > heard, keeping the pronunciation constant!

His violent prejudice against our West Indian and American settlers appeared whenever there was an opportunity. Towards the conclusion of his Taxation no Tyranny, he says, 'how is it that we hear the loudest YELPS for liberty among the drivers of negroes?'
Double-standards. While I never!

BOSWELL. 'I think, Sir, you once said to me, that not to drink wine was a great deduction from life.' JOHNSON. 'It is a diminution of pleasure, to be sure; but I do not say a diminution of happiness. There is more happiness in being rational.' BOSWELL. 'But if we could have pleasure always, should not we be happy? The greatest part of men would compound for pleasure.' JOHNSON. 'Supposing we could have pleasure always, an intellectual man would not compound for it. The greatest part of men would compound, because the greatest part of men are gross.'
Quite. One doesn't find happiness at the bottom of a bottle or glass. Or not any meaningful happiness in any case.

Johnson now in his 70th year:

No wise man will go to live in the country, unless he has something to do which can be better done in the country. For instance: if he is to shut himself up for a year to study a science, it is better to look out to the fields, than to an opposite wall. Then, if a man walks out in the country, there is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man walks out in London, he is not sure when he shall walk in again. A great city is, to be sure, the school for studying life; and "The proper study of mankind is man," as Pope observes.
In today's Digital Age, there’s less of a need to be in a city to learn and be connected, to a certain extent anyway.

Fortunam reverenter habe [Johnson said in relation to Garrick]
'Treat fortune with reverence' or 'Handle good fortune with respect'.

I [Boswell] really believed I should go and see the wall of China had I not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. 'Sir, (said he,) by doing so, you would do what would be of importance in raising your children to eminence. There would be a lustre reflected upon them from your spirit and curiosity. They would be at all times regarded as the children of a man who had gone to view the wall of China. I am serious, Sir.'
These days, this would certainly be viewed as neglect!

Langton said very well to me afterwards, that he could repeat Johnson's conversation before dinner, as Johnson had said that he could repeat a complete chapter of The Natural History of Iceland, from the Danish of Horrebow, the whole of which was exactly thus:—

'CHAP. LXXII. Concerning snakes.

'There are no snakes to be met with throughout the whole island.'

Nicely put! And is that the shortest chapter in history?!

'I am willing to love all mankind, EXCEPT AN AMERICAN:' and his inflammable corruption bursting into horrid fire, he 'breathed out threatenings and slaughter;' calling them, Rascals—Robbers—Pirates;' and exclaiming, he'd 'burn and destroy them.' Miss Seward, looking to him with mild but steady astonishment, said, 'Sir, this is an instance that we are always most violent against those whom we have injured.' He was irritated still more by this delicate and keen reproach; and roared out another tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be heard across the Atlantick. During this tempest I sat in great uneasiness, lamenting his heat of temper; till, by degrees, I diverted his attention to other topicks.
Some Yanks can have that effect on us!

I [Boswell] compared him [Johnson] at this time to a warm West-Indian climate, where you have a bright sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage, luscious fruits; but where the same heat sometimes produces thunder, lightning, earthquakes, in a terrible degree.
I could say that about myself!

JOHNSON. 'I do not say, Sir, you may not publish your travels; but I give you my opinion, that you would lessen yourself by it. What can you tell of countries so well known as those upon the continent of Europe, which you have visited?' BOSWELL. 'But I can give an entertaining narrative, with many incidents, anecdotes, jeux d'esprit, and remarks, so as to make very pleasant reading.' JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, most modern travellers in Europe who have published their travels, have been laughed at: I would not have you added to the number. The world is now not contented to be merely entertained by a traveller's narrative; they want to learn something. Now some of my friends asked me, why I did not give some account of my travels in France. The reason is plain; intelligent readers had seen more of France than I had. YOU might have liked my travels in France, and THE CLUB might have liked them; but, upon the whole, there would have been more ridicule than good produced by them.' BOSWELL. 'I cannot agree with you, Sir. People would like to read what you say of any thing. Suppose a face has been painted by fifty painters before; still we love to see it done by Sir Joshua.' JOHNSON. 'True, Sir, but Sir Joshua cannot paint a face when he has not time to look on it.' BOSWELL. 'Sir, a sketch of any sort by him is valuable. And, Sir, to talk to you in your own style (raising my voice, and shaking my head,) you SHOULD have given us your travels in France. I am SURE I am right, and THERE'S AN END ON'T.'
My dilemma, my problem. Are people interested in hearing my take on MY topsy-turvy life in Colombia? Will they learn something from it? I think so, but I've yet to pique the interest of an agent or a publisher.

I said to him that it was certainly true, as my friend Dempster had observed in his letter to me upon the subject, that a great part of what was in his Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland had been in his mind before he left London. JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir, the topicks were; and books of travels will be good in proportion to what a man has previously in his mind; his knowing what to observe; his power of contrasting one mode of life with another. As the Spanish proverb says, "He, who would bring home the wealth of the Indies, must carry the wealth of the Indies with him." So it is in travelling; a man must carry knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.' BOSWELL. 'The proverb, I suppose, Sir, means, he must carry a large stock with him to trade with.' JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir.'
A bit like a report on a football match or suchlike. One wouldn't want to hear/read a report from somebody who was ignorant of the teams, never mind ignorant of the sport!

And as to regular meals, I have fasted from the Sunday's dinner to the Tuesday's dinner, without any inconvenience. I believe it is best to eat just as one is hungry: but a man who is in business, or a man who has a family, must have stated meals. I am a straggler. I may leave this town and go to Grand Cairo, without being missed here or observed there.
Eat to hunger. I concur, Dr Johnson. And I also agree that this is easier to do for a single man.

JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir; we'll send YOU to him. If your company does not drive a man out of his house, nothing will.' This was a horrible shock, for which there was no visible cause. I afterwards asked him why he had said so harsh a thing. JOHNSON. Because, Sir, you made me angry about the Americans.' BOSWELL. 'But why did you not take your revenge directly?' JOHNSON. (smiling,) 'Because, Sir, I had nothing ready. A man cannot strike till he has his weapons.' This was a candid and pleasant confession.
A nice take on the maxim that 'revenge is a dish best served cold'.

‘Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.’ [Said by Boswell, or Johnson, in relation to the first Whig!]
My fondness for Colombia's working-class barrios could be seen as an example of this. Could be, that is!

‘Wine makes a man better pleased with himself. I do not say that it makes him more pleasing to others. Sometimes it does. But the danger is, that while a man grows better pleased with himself, he may be growing less pleasing to others. Wine gives a man nothing. It neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it only animates a man, and enables him to bring out what a dread of the company had repressed. It only puts in motion what has been locked up in frost. But this may be good, or it may be bad . . .
But let us consider what a sad thing it would be, if we were obliged to drink or do any thing else that may happen to be agreeable to the company where we are.’
Indeed!

JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no more reason for your drinking with HIM, than his being sober with YOU.' BOSWELL. 'Why, that is true; for it would do him less hurt to be sober, than it would do me to get drunk.'

‘It has been maintained that this superfoetation, this teeming of the press in modern times, is prejudicial to good literature, because it obliges us to read so much of what is of inferiour value, in order to be in the fashion; so that better works are neglected for want of time, because a man will have more gratification of his vanity in conversation, from having read modern books, than from having read the best works of antiquity. But it must be considered, that we have now more knowledge generally diffused; all our ladies read now, which is a great extension. Modern writers are the moons of literature; they shine with reflected light, with light borrowed from the ancients. Greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowledge; Rome of elegance.’
Can I call myself a moon of literature? Well, I "can", but am I?!

'I do not think so; a man has from nature a certain portion of mind; the use he makes of it depends upon his own free will. That a man has always the same firmness of mind I do not say; because every man feels his mind less firm at one time than another; but I think a man's being in a good or bad humour depends upon his will.' I [Boswell], however, could not help thinking that a man's humour is often uncontroulable by his will.
Can we will ourselves into a better mood? I side with Johnson here; I think we can, to a certain extent, anyway. Outwardly, we can feign a sunny disposition, even if internally we're feeling down. Although in practice, this may be difficult to sustain.

BOSWELL. 'What I admire in Ramsay, is his continuing to be so young.' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir, it is to be admired. I value myself upon this, that there is nothing of the old man in my conversation. I am now sixty-eight, and I have no more of it than at twenty-eight.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, would not you wish to know old age? He who is never an old man, does not know the whole of human life; for old age is one of the divisions of it.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, what talk is this?' BOSWELL. 'I mean, Sir, the Sphinx's description of it;—morning, noon, and night. I would know night, as well as morning and noon.' JOHNSON. 'What, Sir, would you know what it is to feel the evils of old age? Would you have the gout? Would you have decrepitude?'—Seeing him heated, I would not argue any farther; but I was confident that I was in the right. I would, in due time, be a Nestor, an elder of the people; and there SHOULD be some difference between the conversation of twenty-eight and sixty-eight. A grave picture should not be gay. There is a serene, solemn, placid old age.

BOSWELL. 'I said to-day to Sir Joshua, when he observed that you TOSSED me sometimes—I don't care how often, or how high he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then I fall upon soft ground: but I do not like falling on stones, which is the case when enemies are present.—I think this a pretty good image, Sir.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is one of the happiest I have ever heard.'
A version, of sorts, of Michael Corleone's ' Fredo, you're my older brother, and I love you, but don't ever take sides with anyone against the family again. Ever.'

I afterwards put the question to Johnson [i.e. the word he would use in place of 'transpire', as Lord Marchmont had asked Boswell]: 'Why, Sir, (said he,) GET ABROAD.' BOSWELL. 'That, Sir, is using two words.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, there is no end of this. You may as well insist to have a word for old age.' BOSWELL. 'Well, Sir, Senectus.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, to insist always that there should be one word to express a thing in English, because there is one in another language, is to change the language.'
Latin-ising English! Down with that sort of thing!

‘[I] think the more they are taught, the more modest they are. The French are a gross, ill-bred, untaught people; a lady there will spit on the floor and rub it with her foot. What I gained by being in France was, learning to be better satisfied with my own country. Time may be employed to more advantage from nineteen to twenty-four almost in any way than in travelling; when you set travelling against mere negation, against doing nothing, it is better to be sure; but how much more would a young man improve were he to study during those years. Indeed, if a young man is wild, and must run after women and bad company, it is better this should be done abroad, as, on his return, he can break off such connections, and begin at home a new man, with a character to form, and acquaintances to make. How little does travelling supply to the conversation of any man who has travelled; how little to Beauclerk!'
I'm not so sure, not these days anyway. Travelling may be better than studying at those ages. Or a mixture of both anyway. Taking a year out to go travelling during studies or go travelling for up to a year before commencing studies.

JOHNSON. 'Were I to live in the country, I would not devote myself to the acquisition of popularity; I would live in a much better way, much more happily; I would have my time at my own command.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, is it not a sad thing to be at a distance from all our literary friends?' JOHNSON. 'Sir, you will by and by have enough of this conversation, which now delights you so much.'
So he's in favour of country-living here! Such vacillation, Dr Johnson!

'High people, Sir, (said he,) are the best; take a hundred ladies of quality, you'll find them better wives, better mothers, more willing to sacrifice their own pleasure to their children than a hundred other women. Tradeswomen (I mean the wives of tradesmen) in the city, who are worth from ten to fifteen thousand pounds, are the worst creatures upon the earth, grossly ignorant, and thinking viciousness fashionable. Farmers, I think, are often worthless fellows. Few lords will cheat; and, if they do, they'll be ashamed of it: farmers cheat and are not ashamed of it: they have all the sensual vices too of the nobility, with cheating into the bargain. There is as much fornication and adultery among farmers as amongst noblemen.'
I'm not so sure. Vide Jeffrey Epstein et al!

Letter to the editor: Defending rural Ireland from Varadkar's insults

@wwaycorrigan

My latest letter to the Irish Independent is in response to Leo Vardakar's comments about residents of rural Ireland.

Speaking on the Path to Power podcast, the former taoiseach said, 'We're (urban dwellers) the ones paying all the bills, and you're (rural dwellers) the ones in receipt of a lot of subsidies and a lot of tax benefits that other people don't get.'

His remarks came in the aftermath of almost a week of protests that saw farmers and hauliers block motorways and other essential infrastructure across Ireland in response to high fuel costs. 

My letter can be found at https://www.independent.ie/opinion/letters/letters-leo-varadkar-should-realise-that-the-country-would-come-to-a-halt-if-rural-ireland-shut-down/a1831074434.html. A screenshot of it is also posted below. 

For previous blog stories related to themes touched on in the letter, see https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2020/05/not-just-food-for-thought.html and https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2024/09/fending-off-irrelevance-in-artificial.html.

Rural Ireland is more necessary and relevant than Varadkar.

.

Quotes and notes on James Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson: Part I

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

One habit that I've got into over the last few years has been the annotated documenting of what I consider to be important passages from books I'm reading for pleasure. It's basically a personal highlights package of the tome in question, together with my own observations.

Dr Samuel Johnson: A man for all time.

Christopher Hitchens' memoir Hitch-22 had its moments, while I found Winston Churchill's My Early Life particularly noteworthy. However, eclipsing those two heavyweights is James Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson. So much of both Boswell's and Johnson's words resonated with me. For one, it's thanks to that biography that I've started writing a diary again, not that I've much to put in it during these rather oppressively normal times.

But much more than that, for a book published in 1791, I found that I could relate to many of Johnson's observations and struggles, to say nothing of his words of wisdom.

It's why, having finally finished reading it, I now feel compelled to share my highlights with the wider world, hence this piece. Also, and at the risk of coming across as pretentious, I'm also sharing my notes, in italics, on the quotes and passages I've selected. With over 16,000 words to share, I intend to do this in three parts.

By the way, the audio version of this, available at https://youtu.be/rnWQTU8nwQg, on Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts, gives an idea of what Boswell and Johnson sounded like — according to me, that is!

Part I

'Sir, there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern . . . A tavern chair is the throne of human felicity.'
I pretty much agree with that. Although I do prefer to stand in my tavern/tienda bar of choice!

[I]n every picture there should be shade as well as light, and when I delineate him without reserve, I do what he himself recommended, both by his precept and his example.
Boswell's words

He used (said he) to beat us unmercifully; and he did not distinguish between ignorance and negligence; for he would beat a boy equally for not knowing a thing, as for neglecting to know it. He would ask a boy a question; and if he did not answer it, he would beat him, without considering whether he had an opportunity of knowing how to answer it. For instance, he would call up a boy and ask him Latin for a candlestick, which the boy could not expect to be asked. Now, Sir, if a boy could answer every question, there would be no need of a master to teach him.
This reminds me of a teacher we used to have in St Nathy's Secondary School, Ballaghaderreen, a Ms O'Connor, if I recall correctly, and her 'damned if you do, damned if you don't' line of questioning: She’d shout out, 'Answer me!' Then, if and when you tried to answer, she'd interject with: ‘Don't back answer me!'

He had, from the irritability of his constitution, at all times, an impatience and hurry when he either read or wrote. A certain apprehension, arising from novelty, made him write his first exercise at College twice over; but he never took that trouble with any other composition; and we shall see that his most excellent works were struck off at a heat, with rapid exertion.
I could certainly do with some of that impatience and hurry in my endeavours.

'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.'

'Ah, Sir, I was mad and violent. It was bitterness which they mistook for frolick. I was miserably poor, and I thought to fight my way by my literature and my wit; so I disregarded all power and all authority.'

I’ve pretty much always tried to disregard all power and authority.

Mr. Hector recollects his writing 'that the poet had described the dull sameness of his existence in these words, "Vitam continet una dies" (one day contains the whole of my life); that it was unvaried as the note of the cuckow; and that he did not know whether it was more disagreeable for him to teach, or the boys to learn, the grammar rules.'
This, too, has largely been my experience with teaching English!

Pope, without any knowledge of him but from his London, recommended him to Earl Gower, who endeavoured to procure for him a degree from Dublin.
It was, perhaps, no small disappointment to Johnson that this respectable application had not the desired effect; yet how much reason has there been, both for himself and his country, to rejoice that it did not succeed, as he might probably have wasted in obscurity those hours in which he afterwards produced his incomparable works.
Dublin, no doubt, would have destroyed him!

'A man (said he) who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the publick to whom he appeals, must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions.'

'Dress indeed, we must allow, has more effect even upon strong minds than one should suppose, without having had the experience of it.'
Dress to impress!

Mr. David Hume related to me from Mr. Garrick, that Johnson at last denied himself this amusement, from considerations of rigid virtue; saying, 'I'll come no more behind your scenes, David; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities.'
The pretty ladies backstage were too much for Johnson. Such a tease!

This is a strong confirmation of the truth of a remark of his, which I have had occasion to quote elsewhere, that 'a man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly to it;' for, notwithstanding his constitutional indolence, his depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his Dictionary, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a week from the stores of his mind, during all that time.
I often have that ‘depression of spirits’, which makes one wonder 'What's the point?'. At least Johnson was getting paid for his writing! Of course, I may, quite literally, be trying my hand at something that's beyond me.

'The greatest benefit which one friend can confer upon another, is to guard, and excite, and elevate his virtues.'
Or a friend who accentuates one's positives yet is cognisant and critical of one's negatives.

Johnson assured me, that he had not taken upon him to add more than four or five words to the English language, of his own formation; and he was very much offended at the general licence, by no means 'modestly taken' in his time not only to coin new words, but to use many words in senses quite different from their established meaning, and those frequently very fantastical.
Although, as we'll see, he came up with a few interesting definitions himself.

Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield, 07 February 1755:

'Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the Publick should consider me as owing that to a Patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for myself.'

Johnson having now explicitly avowed his opinion of Lord Chesterfield, did not refrain from expressing himself concerning that nobleman with pointed freedom: 'This man (said he) I thought had been a Lord among wits; but, I find, he is only a wit among Lords!' And when his Letters to his natural son were published, he observed, that 'they teach the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing master.'

A few of his definitions [in his famous dictionary] must be admitted to be erroneous. Thus, Windward and Leeward, though directly of opposite meaning, are defined identically the same way; as to which inconsiderable specks it is enough to observe, that his Preface announces that he was aware there might be many such in so immense a work; nor was he at all disconcerted when an instance was pointed out to him. A lady once asked him how he came to define Pastern the KNEE of a horse: instead of making an elaborate defence, as she expected, he at once answered, 'Ignorance, madam, pure ignorance.' His definition of Network* has been often quoted with sportive malignity, as obscuring a thing in itself very plain. But to these frivolous censures no other answer is necessary than that with which we are furnished by his own Preface.
* Anything reticulated or decussated, at equal distances, with interstices between the intersections.'—ED.

His introducing his own opinions, and even prejudices, under general definitions of words, while at the same time the original meaning of the words is not explained, as his Tory, Whig, Pension, Oats, Excise,* and a few more, cannot be fully defended, and must be placed to the account of capricious and humorous indulgence. Talking to me upon this subject when we were at Ashbourne in 1777, he mentioned a still stronger instance of the predominance of his private feelings in the composition of this work, than any now to be found in it. 'You know, Sir, Lord Gower forsook the old Jacobite interest. When I came to the word Renegado, after telling that it meant "one who deserts to the enemy, a revolter," I added, Sometimes we say a GOWER. Thus it went to the press; but the printer had more wit than I, and struck it out.'
* Tory. 'One who adheres to the ancient constitution or the state and the apostolical hierarchy of the church of England, opposed to a whig.'
Whig. 'The name of a faction.'
Pension. 'An allowance made to any one without an equivalent. In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country.'
Oats. 'A grain which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.'
Excise. 'A hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid.'—ED.

Letter to Bennet Langton in 1758:

'None of your suspicions are true; I am not much richer than when you left me; and, what is worse, my omission of an answer to your first letter, will prove that I am not much wiser. But I go on as I formerly did, designing to be some time or other both rich and wise; and yet cultivate neither mind nor fortune. Do you take notice of my example, and learn the danger of delay. When I was as you are now, towering in the confidence of twenty-one, little did I suspect that I should be at forty-nine, what I now am . . . I was much pleased with the tale that you told me of being tutour to your sisters. I, who have no sisters nor brothers, look with some degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends; and cannot see, without wonder, how rarely that native union is afterwards regarded. It sometimes, indeed, happens, that some supervenient cause of discord may overpower this original amity; but it seems to me more frequently thrown away with levity, or lost by negligence, than destroyed by injury or violence. We tell the ladies that good wives make good husbands; I believe it is a more certain position that good brothers make good sisters.'

The Idler is evidently the work of the same mind which produced The Rambler, but has less body and more spirit. It has more variety of real life, and greater facility of language. He describes the miseries of idleness, with the lively sensations of one who has felt them; and in his private memorandums while engaged in it, we find 'This year I hope to learn diligence.' Many of these excellent essays were written as hastily as an ordinary letter. Mr. Langton remembers Johnson, when on a visit at Oxford, asking him one evening how long it was till the post went out; and on being told about half an hour, he exclaimed, 'then we shall do very well.' He upon this instantly sat down and finished an Idler, which it was necessary should be in London the next day. Mr. Langton having signified a wish to read it, 'Sir, (said he) you shall not do more than I have done myself.' He then folded it up and sent it off.
Johnson didn't know what idleness was!

Letter to Joseph Baretti, 20 July 1762:

'Last winter I went down to my native town, 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. I wandered about for five days, 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. . . .
May you, my Baretti, be very happy at Milan, or some other place nearer to, Sir, your most affectionate humble servant.'
It might be more the case that it was Johnson who changed more than his native town did, as often happens.

1763 (as per chapter; incident described below happened in 1762):

[I] found an irreconcilable difference had taken place between Johnson and Sheridan. A pension of two hundred pounds a year had been given to Sheridan. Johnson, who, as has been already mentioned, thought slightingly of Sheridan's art, upon hearing that he was also pensioned, exclaimed, 'What! have they given HIM a pension? Then it is time for me to give up mine.'
Johnson complained that a man who disliked him repeated his sarcasm to Mr. Sheridan, without telling him what followed, which was, that after a pause he added, 'However, I am glad that Mr. Sheridan has a pension, for he is a very good man.' Sheridan could never forgive this hasty contemptuous expression. It rankled in his mind; and though I informed him of all that Johnson said, and that he would be very glad to meet him amicably, he positively declined repeated offers which I made, and once went off abruptly from a house where he and I were engaged to dine, because he was told that Dr. Johnson was to be there.
Falling out with former friends. It happens to the best and worst of us!

1763:

Concerning this unfortunate poet, Christopher Smart, who was confined in a mad-house, he had, at another time, the following conversation with Dr. Burney:—BURNEY. 'How does poor Smart do, Sir; is he likely to recover?' JOHNSON. 'It seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the disease; for he grows fat upon it.' BURNEY. 'Perhaps, Sir, that may be from want of exercise.' JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs in the garden. Indeed, before his confinement, he used for exercise to walk to the ale-house; but he was CARRIED back again. I did not think he ought to be shut up. His infirmities were not noxious to society. He insisted on people praying with him; and I'd as lief pray with Kit Smart as any one else. Another charge was, that he did not love clean linen; and I have no passion for it.'—Johnson continued. 'Mankind have a great aversion to intellectual labour; but even supposing knowledge to be easily attainable, more people would be content to be ignorant than would take even a little trouble to acquire it.'
I wouldn't be as critical as Johnson here re mankind. One major problem today is that there's so much information available that it can be hard to know what's true and what's not true.

He told me, that he generally went abroad at four in the afternoon, and seldom came home till two in the morning. I took the liberty to ask if he did not think it wrong to live thus, and not make more use of his great talents. He owned it was a bad habit.
Sure look, if I could avoid Colombia’s tienda bars, I'd be a world leader!

I had learnt that his place of frequent resort was the Mitre tavern in Fleet-street, where he loved to sit up late, and I begged I might be allowed to pass an evening with him there soon, which he promised I should. A few days afterwards I met him near Temple-bar, about one o'clock in the morning, and asked if he would then go to the Mitre. 'Sir, (said he) it is too late; they won't let us in. But I'll go with you another night with all my heart.'

Though very desirous of obtaining Dr. Johnson's advice and instructions on the mode of pursuing my studies, I was at this time so occupied, shall I call it? or so dissipated, by the amusements of London, that our next meeting was not till Saturday, June 25, when happening to dine at Clifton's eating-house . . .
Dissipated: A word to describe most of my time in Colombia?!

'Sir, I make a distinction between what a man may experience by the mere strength of his imagination, and what imagination cannot possibly produce. Thus, suppose I should think that I saw a form, and heard a voice cry "Johnson, you are a very wicked fellow, and unless you repent you will certainly be punished;" my own unworthiness is so deeply impressed upon my mind, that I might IMAGINE I thus saw and heard, and therefore I should not believe that an external communication had been made to me. But if a form should appear, and a voice should tell me that a particular man had died at a particular place, and a particular hour, a fact which I had no apprehension of, nor any means of knowing, and this fact, with all its circumstances, should afterwards be unquestionably proved, I should, in that case, be persuaded that I had supernatural intelligence imparted to me.'
So, Dr Johnson, do you believe in ghosts or not? A yes or no answer!

As Dr. Oliver Goldsmith will frequently appear in this narrative, I shall endeavour to make my readers in some degree acquainted with his singular character. He was a native of Ireland, and a contemporary with Mr. Burke at Trinity College, Dublin, but did not then give much promise of future celebrity. He, however, observed to Mr. Malone, that 'though he made no great figure in mathematicks, which was a study in much repute there, he could turn an Ode of Horace into English better than any of them.'

On Oliver Goldsmith:

When accompanying two beautiful young ladies with their mother on a tour in France, he was seriously angry that more attention was paid to them than to him; and once at the exhibition of the Fantoccini in London, when those who sat next him observed with what dexterity a puppet was made to toss a pike, he could not bear that it should have such praise, and exclaimed with some warmth, 'Pshaw! I can do it better myself.'

Johnson on the poet, Churchill:

I called the fellow a blockhead at first, and I will call him a blockhead still. However, I will acknowledge that I have a better opinion of him now, than I once had; for he has shewn more fertility than I expected.
To be sure, he is a tree that cannot produce good fruit: he only bears crabs. But, Sir, a tree that produces a great many crabs is better than a tree which produces only a few.
__________

Disconcerted a little by this, Mr. Ogilvie then took new ground, where, I suppose, he thought himself perfectly safe; for he observed, that Scotland had a great many noble wild prospects. JOHNSON. 'I believe, Sir, you have a great many. Norway, too, has noble wild prospects; and Lapland is remarkable for prodigious noble wild prospects. But, Sir, let me tell you, the noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to England!' This unexpected and pointed sally produced a roar of applause. After all, however, those, who admire the rude grandeur of Nature, cannot deny it to Caledonia.
An old, old quip, that, seen in many different guises throughout the ages.

Johnson on Boswell's poor relationship with his father:

'Why, Sir, I am a man of the world. I live in the world, and I take, in some degree, the colour of the world as it moves along. Your father is a Judge in a remote part of the island, and all his notions are taken from the old world. Besides, Sir, there must always be a struggle between a father and son while one aims at power and the other at independence.'
‘While one aims at power and the other at independence.’ I can relate to that.

'Idleness is a disease which must be combated; but I would not advise a rigid adherence to a particular plan of study. I myself have never persisted in any plan for two days together. A man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good. A young man should read five hours in a day, and so may acquire a great deal of knowledge.'
Today, educational/informative podcasts and YouTube videos count, don't they?!

'A servant's strict regard for truth, (said he) must be weakened by such a practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial; but few servants are such nice distinguishers. If I accustom a servant to tell a lie for ME, have I not reason to apprehend that he will tell many lies for HIMSELF.'
His case for not encouraging the telling of lies. I'm not sure how Johnson would have coped in Colombia!

'Perhaps he who has a large fortune may not be so happy as he who has a small one; but that must proceed from other causes than from his having the large fortune: for, coeteris paribus, he who is rich in a civilized society, must be happier than he who is poor; as riches, if properly used, (and it is a man's own fault if they are not,) must be productive of the highest advantages. Money, to be sure, of itself is of no use; for its only use is to part with it.'
I tend to agree. Better having it than not having it.

'I remember very well, when I was at Oxford, an old gentleman said to me, "Young man, ply your book diligently now, and acquire a stock of knowledge; for when years come upon you, you will find that poring upon books will be but an irksome task."'
I'm not sure about the validity of this.

'Sir, it is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first. Sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in the mean time your breech is bare. Sir, while you are considering which of two things you should teach your child first, another boy has learnt them both.'
The curse of procrastination, indecision. Tell me about it!

'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.'
No comment!

Though by no means niggardly, his attention to what was generally right was so minute, that having observed at one of the stages that I ostentatiously gave a shilling to the coachman, when the custom was for each passenger to give only six-pence, he took me aside and scolded me, saying that what I had done would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of the passengers, who gave him no more than his due. This was a just reprimand; for in whatever way a man may indulge his generosity or his vanity in spending his money, for the sake of others he ought not to raise the price of any article for which there is a constant demand.
Hear, hear! And a case against the tipping culture. Businesses should pay fair wages and let that be it!

When invited to dine, even with an intimate friend, he was not pleased if something better than a plain dinner was not prepared for him. I have heard him say on such an occasion, 'This was a good dinner enough, to be sure; but it was not a dinner to ASK a man to.'
I, on the contrary, am pretty happy to eat almost anything, especially if somebody else is paying for it. Or cooking it!

1764, aged 55:

He this year says:—'I have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time almost that I can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. I have done nothing. The need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of doing is short . . .'
Live with a sense of urgency: advice I need to follow.

1765:

Nothing could be more fortunate for Johnson than this connection. He had at Mr. Thrale's all the comforts and even luxuries of life; his melancholy was diverted, and his irregular habits lessened by association with an agreeable and well-ordered family. He was treated with the utmost respect, and even affection.
It's like when I get a fully-equipped, nice house to look after, my melancholy is diverted, to an extent!

'[Y]ou are to calculate, and not pay too dear for what you get. You must not give a shilling's worth of court for six-pence worth of good. But if you can get a shilling's worth of good for six-pence worth of court, you are a fool if you do not pay court.'
Make sure you're up in the deal.

'We cannot prove any man's intention to be bad. You may shoot a man through the head, and say you intended to miss him; but the Judge will order you to be hanged. An alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed in a court of justice. Rousseau, Sir, is a very bad man . . .'

On his favourite subject of subordination, Johnson said, 'So far is it from being true that men are naturally equal, that no two people can be half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evident superiority over the other.'
Quite. But we all have something in which we excel. I think!

On thinking of those who are in a worse situation than ourselves:
This, I [Boswell] observed, could not apply to all, for there must be some who have nobody worse than they are. JOHNSON. 'Why, to be sure, Sir, there are; but they don't know it. There is no being so poor and so contemptible, who does not think there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible.'

BOSWELL. 'Then the vulgar, Sir, never can know they are right, but must submit themselves to the learned.' JOHNSON. 'To be sure, Sir. The vulgar are the children of the State, and must be taught like children.' BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, a poor Turk must be a Mahometan, just as a poor Englishman must be a Christian?' JOHNSON. 'Why, yes, Sir; and what then? This now is such stuff as I used to talk to my mother, when I first began to think myself a clever fellow; and she ought to have whipt me for it.'
But we vulgar folk can now read and think for ourselves — most of us anyway! And who knows the truth when it comes to religious belief?

February 1767:

His Majesty enquired if he was then writing any thing. He answered, he was not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must now read to acquire more knowledge.
The King, as it should seem with a view to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to continue his labours, then said 'I do not think you borrow much from any body.' Johnson said, he thought he had already done his part as a writer. 'I should have thought so too, (said the King,) if you had not written so well.'—Johnson observed to me, upon this, that 'No man could have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a King to pay. It was decisive.'
Kind of my approach; I try to be original!

His Majesty having observed to him that he supposed he must have read a great deal; Johnson answered, that he thought more than he read; that he had read a great deal in the early part of his life, but having fallen into ill health, he had not been able to read much, compared with others . . .
Thinking more than reading. My problem is that I think much more than I do. A peso for my thoughts — if only!

'That fellow seems to me to possess but one idea, and that is a wrong one.'

1768:

He said he had lately been a long while at Lichfield, but had grown very weary before he left it. BOSWELL. 'I wonder at that, Sir; it is your native place.' JOHNSON. 'Why, so is Scotland YOUR native place.'
I can relate; when I feel a little lost in my birthplace.

He praised Signor Baretti. 'His account of Italy is a very entertaining book; and, Sir, I know no man who carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are strong powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly.'
Play well the cards one is dealt; if one can read the cards, that is!

1769, aged 60:

One evening about this time, when his Lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with Dr. Robertson and several other men of literary distinction, he regretted that Johnson had not been educated with more refinement, and lived more in polished society. 'No, no, my Lord, (said Signor Baretti,) do with him what you would, he would always have been a bear.' 'True, (answered the Earl, with a smile,) but he would have been a DANCING bear.' . . .
. . . by applying to him the epithet of a BEAR, let me impress upon my readers a just and happy saying of my friend Goldsmith, who knew him well: 'Johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man alive has a more tender heart. He has nothing of the bear but his skin.'

Mr. Seward heard him once say, that 'a man has a very bad chance for happiness in that state, unless he marries a woman of very strong and fixed principles of religion.' He maintained to me, contrary to the common notion, that a woman would not be the worse wife for being learned; in which, from all that I have observed of Artemisias, I humbly differed from him.

When I censured a gentleman of my acquaintance for marrying a second time, as it shewed a disregard of his first wife, he said, 'Not at all, Sir. On the contrary, were he not to marry again, it might be concluded that his first wife had given him a disgust to marriage; but by taking a second wife he pays the highest compliment to the first, by shewing that she made him so happy as a married man, that he wishes to be so a second time.'
I presume that her having been married before had, at times, given him some uneasiness; for I remember his observing upon the marriage of one of our common friends, 'He has done a very foolish thing, Sir; he has married a widow, when he might have had a maid.'

'I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, my dear Lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile with the simple;—What folly is that? And who would feed with the poor that can help it? No, no; let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.'
I need to ‘smile with the wise and feed with the rich’ more often.

The General [Paoli] talked of languages being formed on the particular notions and manners of a people, without knowing which, we cannot know the language. We may know the direct signification of single words; but by these no beauty of expression, no sally of genius, no wit is conveyed to the mind.
To truly get a language of a people, one needs to understand their culture.

I proposed, as usual upon such occasions, to order dinner to be served; adding, 'Ought six people to be kept waiting for one?' 'Why, yes, (answered Johnson, with a delicate humanity,) if the one will suffer more by your sitting down, than the six will do by waiting.'

This little incidental quarrel and reconciliation, which, perhaps, I may be thought to have detailed too minutely, must be esteemed as one of many proofs which his friends had, that though he might be charged with bad humour at times, he was always a good-natured man; and I have heard Sir Joshua Reynolds, a nice and delicate observer of manners, particularly remark, that when upon any occasion Johnson had been rough to any person in company, he took the first opportunity of reconciliation, by drinking to him, or addressing his discourse to him; but if he found his dignified indirect overtures sullenly neglected, he was quite indifferent, and considered himself as having done all that he ought to do, and the other as now in the wrong.
I do relate to such a mindset.

1770, aged 61:

Speaking of a dull tiresome fellow, whom he chanced to meet, he said, 'That fellow seems to me to possess but one idea, and that is a wrong one.'

1771, aged 62:

'When I review the last year, I am able to recollect so little done, that shame and sorrow, though perhaps too weakly, come upon me.'
I hear you, Samuel. Most of my years have been thus!
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