him at all, than any other man in the world, I believe ; and when he would try to repeat the celebrated Prosa Ecclesiastica pro Mortuis, as it is called, beginning Dies ira, Dies illa, he could never pass the stanza ending thus, Tantus labor non sit cassus, without bursting into a flood of tears; which sensibility I used to quote against him when he would inveigh against devotional poetry, and protest that all religious verses were cold and feeble, and unworthy the subject; which ought to be treated with higher reverence, he said, than either poets or painters could presume to excite or bestow.

97. Promptitude of Thought.

Promptitude of thought, and quickness of expression, were among the peculiar felicities of Johnson. His notions rose up like the dragon's teeth sowed by Cadmus all ready clothed, and in bright armour too, fit for immediate battle. He was therefore (as somebody is said to have expressed it) a tremendous converser, and few people ventured to try their skill against an antagonist with whom contention was so hopeless. One gentleman, however, who dined at a nobleman's house in his company and that of Mr. Thrale, to whom I was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to enter the lists in defence of King William's character; and having opposed and contradicted Johnson two or three times petulantly enough, the master of the house began to feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences: to avoid which he said, loud enough for the Doctor to hear, "Our friend here has no meaning now in all this, except just to relate at club to-morrow how he teased Johnson at dinner to-day-this is all to do himself honour." "No, upon my word," replied the other, "I see no honour in it, whatever you may do." "Well, Sir!" returned Mr. Johnson sternly, "if you do not see the honour, I am sure I feel the disgrace."

A young fellow, less confident of his own abilities, lamenting one day that he had lost all his Greek, —“I believe it happened at the same time, Sir," said Johnson, “that I lost all my large estate in Yorkshire.”

The Lincolnshire lady (1) who showed him a grotto she had been making, came off no better, as I remember: "Would it not be a pretty cool habitation in summer, Mr. Johnson ?" said she. "I think it would, Madam,"

replied he, "for a toad."

98. Compliments.

"There goes

When Mr. Johnson had a mind to compliment any one, he did it with more dignity to himself, and better effect upon the company, than any man. When Sir Joshua Reynolds left the room one day, he said, a man not to be spoiled by prosperity." And when Mrs. Montagu showed him some China plates which had once belonged to Queen Elizabeth, he told her, "that they had no reason to be ashamed of their present possessor, who was so little inferior to the first."

He was not at all offended when, comparing all our acquaintance to some animal or other, we pitched upon the elephant for his resemblance, adding that the proboscis of that creature was like his mind most exactly, strong to buffet even the tiger, and pliable to pick up even the pin. The truth is, Mr. Johnson was often good-humouredly willing to join in childish amusements, and hated to be left out of any innocent merriment that was going forward. Mr. Murphy always said, he was incomparable at buffoonery; and I verily think, if he had had good eyes, and a form less inflexible, he would have made an admirable mimic.

(1) Mrs. Langton, mother of his friend. - Malone MS. notes. This was not meant as rudeness to the lady; but Johnson hated grottos, and thought, as he has said in his Life of Pope, that they were "not often the wish or pleasure of an Englishman, who has more frequent need to solicit than to exclude the sun.

99. Johnson on Horseback.

Hunting.

He certainly rode on Mr. Thrale's old hunter with a good firmness, and though he would follow the hounds fifty miles an end sometimes, would never own himself either tired or amused. "I have now learned," said he, "by hunting, to perceive, that it is no diversion at all, nor ever takes a man out of himself for a moment: the dogs have less sagacity than I could have prevailed on myself to suppose; and the gentlemen often call to me not to ride over them. It is very strange, and very melancholy, that the paucity of human pleasures should persuade us ever to call hunting one of them." He was however proud to be amongst the sportsmen; and I think no praise ever went so close to his heart, as when Mr. Hamilton called out one day upon Brighthelmstone Downs, "Why, Johnson rides as well, for aught I see, as the most illiterate fellow in England." (1)

100. Conversation.

Mr. Johnson, as he was a very talking man himself, had an idea that nothing promoted happiness so much as conversation. A friend's erudition was commended

one day as equally deep and strong: "He will not talk, Sir," was the reply, so his learning does no good, and his wit, if he has it, gives us no pleasure: out of all his boasted stores I never heard him force but one word, and that word was Richard."

With a contempt not inferior he received the praises of a pretty lady's face and behaviour: "She says nothing, Sir," answers Johnson; "a talking blackamoor were better than a white creature who adds nothing to life, and by sitting down before one thus desperately

(1) Mr. Boswell says, that Johnson once hunted; this seems more probable than Mrs. Piozzi's and Hawkins' statements, from which it would be inferred, that he hunted habitually. It seems hard to figure to one's self Dr. Johnson fairly joining in this violent and, to him, one would suppose, extravagant and dangerous amusement. — - C.

silent, takes away the confidence one should have in the company of her chair if she were once out of it."

101. Love.-Francis Barber.

As we had been saying one day that no subject failed of receiving dignity from the manner in which Mr. Johnson treated it, a lady at my house said she would make him talk about love, and took her measures accordingly, deriding the novels of the day because they treated about love. "It is not," replied our philosopher, "because they treat, as you call it, about love, but because they treat of nothing, that they are despicable: we must not ridicule a passion which he who never felt never was happy, and he who laughs at never deserves to feel a passion which has caused the change of empires, and the loss of worldss—a passion which has inspired heroism and subdued avarice." He thought he had already said too much. "A passion, in short," added he with an altered tone, "that consumes me away for my pretty Fanny () here, and she is very cruel." He told us, however, in the course of the same chat, how his negro Francis had been eminent for his success among the girls. Seeing us all laugh, "I must have you know, ladies," said he, "that Frank has carried the empire of Cupid further than most men. When I was in Lincolnshire so many years ago, he attended me thither; and when we returned home together, I found that a female haymaker had followed him to London for love." Francis was indeed no small favourite with his master; who retained, however, a prodigious influence over his most violent passions.

On the birthday of our eldest daughter, and that of our friend Dr. Johnson, the 17th and 18th of September, we every year made up a little dance and supper, to divert our servants and their friends, putting the

(1) Miss Burney, the author of "Evelina."

summer-house into their hands for the two evenings, to fill with acquaintance and merriment. Francis and his

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white wife were invited of course. She was eminently pretty, and he was jealous, as my maids told me. the first of these days' amusements (I know not what year) Frank took offence at some attentions paid his Desdemona, and walked away next morning to London in wrath. His master and I driving the same road an hour after, overtook him. "What is the matter, child," says Dr. Johnson, "that you leave Streatham to-day? Art sick?" "He is jealous," whispered I. "Are you jealous of your wife, you stupid blockhead?" cries out his master in another tone." The fellow hesitated; and, "To be sure, Sir, I don't quite approve, Sir," was the stammering reply. Why, what do they do to her, man? do the footmen kiss her?" 66 No, Sir, no ! Kiss my wife, Sir! — I hope not, Sir." Why, what do they do to her, my lad?" Why nothing, Sir, I'm sure, Sir." Why, then, go back directly and dance, you dog, do; and let's hear no more of such empty lamentations." I believe, however, that Francis was scarcely as much the object of Mr. Johnson's personal kindness, as the representative of Dr. Bathurst, for whose sake he would have loved any body, or any thing. When he spoke of negroes, he always appeared to think them of a race naturally inferior, and made few exceptions in favour of his own; yet whenever disputes arose in his household among the many odd inhabitants of which it consisted, he always sided with Francis against the others, whom he suspected (not unjustly, I believe) of greater malignity.

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102. Poverty of Sentiment.

It was never against people of coarse life that his contempt was expressed, while poverty of sentiment in men who considered themselves to be company for the parlour, as he called it, was what he would not bear.