Hawk. A 437 440. Nor was this all: that facetious gentle. man, Mr. Foote, who, upon the strength and success of his satirical vein in comedy, had assumed the name of the modern Aristophanes, and at his theatre had long entertained the town with caricatures of living persons, with all their singularities and weaknesses, thought that Johnson at this time was become a fit subject for ridicule, Here it is proper, once for all, to give a [Mr. Saunders Welch3, his intitrue and fair statement of Johnson's way of mate friend, would have dissuaded thinking upon the question, whether depart-him from his purpose of visiting ed spirits are ever permitted to appear in this place, urging, that it would expose him this world, or in any way to operate upon to ridicule; but all his arguments had no human life. He has been ignorantly mis-effect. What Mr. Welch foretold, in his represented as weakly credulous upon that advice to Johnson, touching this imposture, subject; and therefore, though I feel an in- was now verified: he was censured for his clination to disdain and treat with silent con- credulity; his wisdom was arraigned, and tempt so foolish a notion concerning my il- his religious opinions resolved into supersti lustrious friend, yet, as I find it has gained tion. ground, it is necessary to refute it. The real fact then is, that Johnson had a very philosophical mind, and such a rational respect for testimony, as to make him submit his understanding to what was authentically proved, though he could not comprehend why it was so. Being thus disposed, he was willing to inquire into the truth of any relation of supernatural agency, a general belief of which has prevailed in all nations and ages. But so far was he from being a dupe of implicit faith, that he examined the matter with a jealous attention, and no man was more ready to refute its falsehood when he had discovered it. Churchill, in his poem entitled "The Ghost," availed himself of the absurd credulity imputed to Johnson, and drew a caricature of him under the name of "Pomposo," representing him as one of the believers of the story of a ghost in Cock-lane, which, in the year 1762, had gained very general credit in London. Many of my readers, I am convinced, are to this hour under an impression that Johnson was thus foolishly deceived. It will therefore surprise them a good deal when they are informed upon undoubted authority, that Johnson was one of those by whom the imposture was detected. The story had become so popular, that he thought it should be investigated; and in this research he was assisted by the Rev. Dr. Douglas, now Bishop of Salisbury, the great detector of impostures; who informs me, that after the gentlemen who went and examined into the evidence were satisfied of its falsity, Johnson wrote in their presence an account of it, which was published in the newspapers, and Gentleman's Magazine, and undeceived the world2. [No rational man doubted that inquiry would lead to detection; men only wondered that Dr. Johnson should so far give countenance to this flimsy imposition as to think a solemn inquiry necessary.-ED.] 2 The account was as follows: "On the night of the 1st of February, many gentlemen, eminent for their rank and character, were, by the invitation of the Rev. Mr. Aldrich, of Clerkenwell, assembled at his house, for the examination of the noises supposed to be made by a departed spirit, for the detection of some enormous crime. "About ten at night the gentlemen met in the chamber in which the girl, supposed to be dis turbed by a spirit, had, with proper caution, been "The supposed spirit had before publickly promised, by an affirmative knock, that it would attend one of the gentlemen into the vault under the church of St. John, Clerkenwell, where the body is deposited, and give a token of her presence there, by a knock upon her coffin; it was therefore determined to make this trial of the existence or veracity of the supposed spirit. "While they were inquiring and deliberating, they were summoned into the girl's chamber by some ladies who were near her bed, and who had heard knocks and scratches. When the gentlemen entered, the girl declared that she felt the spirit like a mouse upon her back, and was reFrom that quired to hold her hands out of bed. time, though the spirit was very solemnly required to manifest its existence by appearance, by impression on the hand or body of any present, by scratches, knocks, or any other agency, no evidence of any preternatural power was exhibited. The spirit was then very seriously advertised, that the person to whom the promise was made of striking the coffin was then about to visit the vault, and that the performance of the promise was then claimed. The company at one o'clock went into the church, and the gentleman to whom the promise was made went with another into the vault. The spirit was solemnly required to perform its promise, but nothing more than silence ensued: the person supposed to be accused by the spirit then went down with several others, but no effect was perceived. Upon their return they examined the girl, but could draw no confession from her. Between two and three she desired and was permitted to go home with her father. and that an exhibition of him in a drama written for the purpose, in which himself should represent Johnson, and in his mien, his garb, and his speech, should display all his comic powers, would yield him a golden harvest. Johnson was apprized of his intention; and gave Mr. Foote to understand, that the licence under which he was permitted to entertain the town would not justify the liberties he was accustomed to take with private characters, and that if he persisted in his design, he would, by a severe chastisement of his representative on the stage, and in the face of the whole audience, convince the world, that, whatever were his infirmities, or even his foibles, they should not be made the sport of the publick, or the means of gain to any one of his profession. Foote, upon this intimation, had discretion enough to desist from his purpose. Johnson entertained no resentment against him, and they were ever after friends.] Our conversation proceeded. "Sir," said he, “I am a friend to subordination, as most conducive to the happiness of society. There is a reciprocal pleasure in governing and being governed." "Dr. Goldsmith is one of the first men we now have as an authour, and he is a very worthy man too. He has been loose in his principles, but he is coming right.” I mentioned Mallet's tragedy of " ELVIRA," which had been acted the preceding winter at Drury-lane, and that the honourable Andrew Erskine1, Mr. Dempster2, [Third son of the fifth Earl of Kellie, born in 1736. He published some letters and poems, addressed to Mr. Boswell; and died in 1793.ED.] 2 [George Dempster, of Dunnichen, secretary to the Order of the Thistle. He was a man of talents and very agreeable manners. Burns mentions him more than once with eulogy: As Mr. Dempster lived a good deal in Johnson's society, the reader may be glad to see the following slipshod but characteristic epitaph (communicated to me by Sir Walter Scott), which he made on himself when eighty-five, though (affecting, even at that age, to look forward to a still greater longevity) he supposes himself to have lived to 93. "Pray for the soul Of deceased George Dempster, In his youth a great fool, In his old age a gamester*. What you 're curious to know When just ninety-three. So sound was his bottom, His acquaintance all wondered How old Nick had got him Till he lived out the hundred. Gamester, Scottic, may rhyme with Dempster. He, however, only played for trifles; indeed the whole is a mere badinage.-W. SCOTT. and myself, had joined in writing a pamphlet, entitled " Critical Strictures," against it3. That the mildness of Dempster's disposition had, however, relented; and he had candidly said, "We have hardly a right to abuse this tragedy; for bad as it is, how vain should either of us be to write one not near so good." JOHNSON. " Why no, sir; this is not just reasoning. You may abuse a tragedy, though you cannot write one. You may scold a carpenter who has made you a bad table, though you cannot make a table. It is not your trade to make tables." When I talked to him of the paternal estate to which I was heir, he said, "Sir, let me tell you, that to be a Scotch landlord, where you have a number of families dependent upon you, and attached to you, is, perhaps, as high a situation as humanity can arrive at. A merchant upon the 'Change of London, with a hundred thousand pounds, is nothing; an English duke, with an immense fortune, is nothing: he has no tenants who consider themselves as under his patriarchal care, and who will follow him into the field upon an emergency." His notions of the dignity of a Scotch landlord had been formed upon what he had heard of the highland chiefs; for it is long since a lowland landlord has been so curtailed in his feudal authority, that he has little more influence over his tenants than an English landlord; and of late years most of the highland chiefs have destroyed, by means too well known, the princely power which they once enjoyed. He proceeded: "Your going abroad, sir, and breaking off idle habits, may be of great importance to you. I would go where there are courts and learned men. There is a great deal of Spain that has not been perambulated. I would have you go thither. A man of inferior talents to yours may furnish us with useful observations upon that country." His supposing me, at that period of life, capable of writing an account of my travels that would deserve to be read, elated me not a little. 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 2. 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." He afterwards studied physick at Edinburgh, and upon the continent; and, I have been informed, was I appeal to every impartial reader whether this faithful detail of his frankness, complacency, and kindness to a young man, a stranger and a Scotchman, does not refute the unjust opinion of the harshness of his general demeanour. His occasional reproofs of folly, impudence, or impiety, and even the sudden sallies of his constitutional irritability of temper, which have been preserv-enabled to pursue his travels on foot, partly ed for the poignancy of their wit, have produced that opinion among those who have not considered that such instances, though collected by Mrs. Piozzi into a small volume 1, and read over in a few hours, were, in fact, scattered through a long series of years: years in which his time was chiefly spent in instructing and delighting mankind by his writings and conversation, in acts of piety to GOD, and good-will to men. by demanding at Universities to enter the lists as a disputant, by which, according to the custom of many of them, he was entitled to the premium of a crown, when luckily for him his challenge was not accepted; so that, as I once observed to Dr. Johnson, he disputed his passage through Europe. He then came to England, and was employed successively in the capacities of an usher to an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and a writer for a newspaper. He had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. To me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of Johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale. I complained to him that I had not yet acquired much knowledge; and asked his advice as to my studies. He said, "Don't talk of study now. I will give you a plan; but it will require some time to consider of it." "It is very good in you," I replied, "to allow me to be with you thus. Had it been foretold to me some years ago that I should pass an evening with the authour At this time I think he had published of the RAMBLER, how should I have exult- | nothing with his name, though it was pretty ed!" What I then expressed was sincere- generally known that one Dr. Goldsmith ly from the heart. He was satisfied that it was the authour of "An Inquiry into the was, and cordially answered, "Sir, I am present State of polite Learning in Europe." glad we have met. I hope we shall pass and of "The Citizen of the World," a semany evenings, and mornings too, togeth-ries of letters supposed to be written from er." We finished a couple of bottles of port, and sat till between one and two in the morning. London by a Chinese 3. No man had the art of displaying with more advantage, as a writer, whatever literary acquisitions he made. "Nihil quod tetigit non ornavit 4.❞ His mind resembled a fertile but thin soil. 2 Goldsmith got a premium at a Christmas examination in Trinity College, Dublin, which I have seen. -KEARNEY. He wrote this year in the Critical Review the account of "Telemachus, a Mask," by the Reverend George Graham, of Eton College. The subject of this beautiful poem was particularly interesting to Johnson, who had much experience of "the conflict of opposite principles," which he describes as "The contention between pleasure and virtue, a struggle which will always be continued while the present system of nature shall subsist; nor can history or poetry exhibit more than pleasure triumphing over virtue, and virtue subju-ceiving a written certificate that he was the best gating pleasure." A premium obtained at the Christmas examination is generally more honourable than any other, because it ascertains the person who receives it to nations, the person thus distinguished may be only be the first in literary merit. At the other examithe second in merit; he who has previously obtained the same honorary reward sometimes re answerer, it being a rule that not more than one premium should be adjudged to the same person in one year. See ante, p. 137.-MALONE. 3 He had also published, in 1759, "The BEE, being essays on the most interesting subjects.”— MALONE. See his epitaph in Westminster Abbey, written by Dr. Johnson.-BoswELL. Hawk. p. 416420. [He affected Johnson's style and manner of conversation, and, when he had uttered, as he often would, a laboured sentence, so tumid as to be scarce intelligible, would ask, if that was not truly Johnsonian; yet he loved not Johnson, but rather envied him for his parts; and once entreated a friend to desist from praising him, "for in doing so," said he, "you harrow up my very soul." He had some wit, but no humour, and never told a story but he spoiled it. The following anecdotes will convey some idea of the style and manner of his conversation: There was a quick, but not a strong vegetation, of whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. No deep root could be struck. The oak of the forest did not grow there: but the elegant shrubbery and the fragrant parterre appeared in gay succession. It has been generally circulated and believed that he was a mere fool in conversation'; but, in truth, this has been greatly exaggerated. He has, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry of ideas which we often find in his countrymen, and which sometimes produces a laughable confusion in expressing them. He was very much what the French call un etourdi, and from He was used to say he could play on the vanity and an eager desire of being con- German-flute as well as most men ;-at othspicuous wherever he was, he frequently er times, as well as any man living; and talked carelessly without knowledge of the in his poem of the Traveller, bas hinted at subject, or even without thought. His per- this attainment; but, in truth, he underson was short, his countenance coarse and stood not the character in which musick is vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar written, and played on that instrument, as awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. many of the vulgar do, merely by ear. Those who were in any way distinguished Roubiliac, the sculptor, a merry fellow, once excited envy in him to so ridiculous an ex- heard him play, and minding to put a trick cess, that the instances of it are hardly cred-on him, pretended to be so charmed with ible. 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!" 1 In allusion to this, Mr. Horace Walpole, who admired his writings, said he was "an inspired idiot;" and Garrick described him as one -for shortness call'd Noll, Who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor Poll." Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned to me that he frequently heard Goldsmith talk warmly of the pleasure of being liked, and observe how hard it would be if literary excellence should preclude a man from that satisfaction, which he perceived it often did, from the envy which attended it; and therefore Sir Joshua was convinced that he was intentionally more absurd, in order to lessen himself in social intercourse, trusting that his character would be sufficiently supported by his works. If it indeed was his intention to appear absurd in company, he was often very successful. But with due deference to Sir Joshua's ingenuity, I think the conjecture too refined.-BosWELL. 2 Miss Hornecks, one of whom is now married to Henry Bunbury, esq. and the other to Colonel Gwyn.-BOSWELL. | his performance, that he entreated him to repeat the air, that he might write it down. simplicity of Goldsmith, which (though perhaps coloured a little, as anecdotes too often are) is characteristic at least of the opinion which his best friends entertained of Goldsmith. One afternoon, as Colonel O'Moore and Mr. Burke were going to dine with Sir Joshua Reynolds, they observed Goldsmith (also on his way to Sir Joshua's) standing near a crowd of people, who were staring and shouting at some foreign women in the windows of one of the houses in Leicester-square. "Observe Goldsmith," said Mr. Burke to O'Moore, "and mark what passes between him and me byand-by at Sir Joshua's." They passed on, and arrived before Goldsmith, who came soon after, and Mr. Burke afiected to receive him very coolly. This seemed to vex poor Goldsmith, who begged Mr. Burke would tell him how he had had the misfortune to offend him. Burke appeared very reluctant to speak, but, after a good deal of pressing, said, "that he was really ashamed to keep up an intimacy with one who could be guilty of such monstrous indiscretions as Goldsmith had just exhibited in the square.” Goldsmith, with great earnestness, protested he was unconscious of what was meant: "Why," said Burke, “did you not exclaim, as you were looking up at those women, what stupid beasts the crowd must be for staring with such admiration at those painted jezabels; while a man of your talents passed by unnoticed?" Goldsmith was horror-struck and said, "Surely, surely, my dear friend, I did not say so?" Nay," replied Burke, "if you had not said so, how should I have known it?" "That's true," answered Goldsmith, with great humility: "I am very sorry-it was very foolish: I do recollect that something of the kind pass| ed through my mind, but I did not think I had 3 He went home with Mr. Burke to supper; and broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the company how much better he could jump over a stick than the puppets.-BosWELL. [Colonel O'Moore, of Cloghan Castle in Ireland, told the Editor an amusing instance of the mingled vanity and | uttered it."-ED.] Goldsmith readily consenting, Roubiliac | kindness." "And what did you answer," called for paper, and scored thereon a few asked Hawkins, "to this gracious offer?' five-lined staves, which having done," Why," said he, "I could say nothing, Goldsmith proceeded to play, and Roubiliac but that I had a brother there, a clergyman, to write; but his writing was only such that stood in need of help. As for myself, random notes on the lines and spaces as I have no dependence on the promises of any one might set down who had ever in- great men; I look to the booksellers for spected a page of musick. When they support; they are my best friends, and I had both done, Roubiliac showed the pa- am not inclined to forsake them for others." per to Goldsmith, who, looking it over with seeming great attention, said it was very correct, and that if he had not seen him do it, he never could have believed his friend capable of writing musick after him. He would frequently preface a story thus: "I'll now tell you a story of myself, which some people laugh at, and some do not." At the breaking up of an evening at a tavern, he entreated the company to sit down, and told them if they would call for another bottle, they should hear one of his bon-mots. They agreed, and he began thus: "I was once told that Sheridan, the player, in order to improve himself in stage gestures, had looking-glasses, to the number of ten, hung about his room, and that he practised before them; upon which I said, then there were ten ugly fellows together." The company were all silent. He asked, why they did not laugh? which, they not doing, he, without tasting the wine, left the room in anger. Thus adds Hawkins, did this idiot', in the affairs of the world, trifle with his fortunes, and put back the hand that was held out to assist him! Other offers of a like kind he either rejected or failed to improve, contenting himself with the patronage of one nobleman [Nugent, Lord Clare], whose mansion afforded him the delights of a splendid table, and a retreat for a few days from the metropolis. While Hawkins was writing the History of Musick, Goldsmith, at the club, communicated to him some curious matter, which the former desired he would reduce to writing; he promised to do so, and desired to see Hawkins at his chambers. He called on him there; Goldsmith stepped into a closed, and tore out of a printed book six leaves that contained what he had mentioned. His poems are replete with fine moral sentiments, and bespeak a great dignity of mind; yet he had no sense of the shame, nor dread of the evils, of poverty.] He once complained to a friend in these He, I am afraid, had no settled system words: "Mr. Martinelli is a rude man; I of any sort, so that his conduct must not said, in his hearing, that there were no be strictly scrutinized: but his affections good writers among the Italians, and he were social and generous, and when he had said to one that sat near him, that I was money he gave it away very liberally. His very ignorant.” desire of imaginary consequence predomi"People," said he, "are greatly mista-nated over his attention to truth. When ken in me. A notion goes about, that when I am silent, I mean to be impudent; but I assure you, gentlemen, my silence arises from bashfulness." he began to rise into notice, he said he had a brother who was Dean of Durham, a fiction so easily detected, that it is wonderful how he should have been so inconsiderate Sir John Hawkins having one day a call as to hazard it. He boasted to me at this to wait on the late duke, then earl, of North- time of the power of his pen in commandumberland, found Goldsmith waiting for an ing money, which I believe was true in a audience in an outer room. Hawkins ask- certain degree, though in the instance he ed what had brought him there: he repli- gave he was by no means correct. He ed, an invitation from his lordship. Haw- told me that he had sold a novel for four kins made his business as short as he could, hundred pounds. This was his "Vicar of and, as a reason, mentioned, that Gold- Wakefield." But Johnson informed me, smith was waiting without. The earl ask- that he had made the bargain for Golded if he was acquainted with him. He told smith, and the price was sixty pounds. him he was, adding what he thought like-" And, sir," said he, "a sufficient price too, ly to recommend him. Hawkins retired, when it was sold; for then the fame of and staid in the outer room to take Goldsmith home, and, upon his coming out, asked him the result of his conversation. 'His lordship," says he, "told me he had read my poem (meaning the Traveller), and was much delighted with it; that he was going Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and that, hearing that I was a native of that country, he should be glad to do me any 1 [It is hard on poor Goldsmith to be called an idiot for what, in another man, would have been applauded as disinterestedness and magnanimity. -ED.] been some mistake as to this anecdote, though I I am willing to hope that there may have had it from a dignitary of the church. Dr. Isaac Goldsmith, his near relation, was Dean of Cloyne in 1747.-BOSWELL. |