pulling off his hat. This shews that he has good principles. I used to go pretty often to Campbell's on a Sunday evening, till I began to consider that the shoals of Scotchmen who flocked about him might probably say, when any thing of mine was well done, Ay, ay, he has learnt this of CawMELL!"" 6 He talked very contemptuously of Churchill's poetry, observing, that "it had a temporary currency, only from its audacity of abuse, and being filled with living names, and that it would sink into oblivion." I ventured to hint that he was not quite a fair judge, as Churchill had attacked him violently. JOHNSON. "Nay, Sir, I am a very fair judge. He did not attack me violently till he found I did not like his poetry; and his attack on me shall not prevent me from continuing to say what I think of him, from an apprehension that it may be ascribed to resentment. No, Sir, 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 Mr. Boswell quotes this dictum as if it was evidence only of Dr. Campbell's wealth; he probably did not see that it characterised his celebrated friend, by no very complimentary allusion, as grazing the common of literature. His "Lives of the Admirals" is the only one of his almost innumerable publications that is now called for. He was born in 1708, and died in 1775. - C. many crabs is better than a tree which produces only a few." In this depreciation of Churchill's poetry I could not agree with him. It is very true that the greatest part of it is upon the topics of the day, on which account, as it brought him great fame and profit at the time, it must proportionably slide out of the public attention as other occasional objects succeed. But Churchill had extraordinary vigour both of thought and expression. His portraits of the players will ever be valuable to the true lovers of the drama; and his strong caricatures of several eminent men of his age, will not be forgotten by the curious. Let me add, that there is in his works many passages which are of a general nature; and his "Prophecy of Famine" is a poem of no ordinary merit. It is, indeed, falsely injurious to Scotland; but therefore may be allowed a greater share of invention. Bonnell Thornton had just published a burlesque "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," adapted to the ancient British music, viz. the salt-box, the Jew's harp, the marrow-bones and cleaver, the hum-strum or hurdygurdy, &c. Johnson praised its humour, and seemed much diverted with it. He repeated the following passage: --: "In strains more exalted the salt-box shall join, And clattering and battering and clapping combine; (1) In 1769 I set for Smart and Newbery, Thornton s burlesque Ode on St. Cecilia's day. It was performed at Ranelagh I mentioned the periodical paper called "THE CONNOISSEUR." He said it wanted matter. No doubt it had not the deep thinking of Johnson's writings; but surely it has just views of the surface of life, and a very sprightly manner. His opinion of "THE WORLD" was not much higher than of the Connoisseur. Let me here apologise for the imperfect manner in which I am obliged to exhibit Johnson's conversation at this period. In the early part of my acquaintance with him, I was so wrapt in admiration of his extraordinary colloquial talents, and so little accustomed to his peculiar mode of expression, that I found it extremely difficult to recollect and record his conversation with its genuine vigour and vivacity. In progress of time, when my mind was, as it were, strongly impregnated with the Johnsonian æther, I could, with much more facility and exactness, carry in my memory and commit to paper the exuberant variety of his wisdom and wit. At this time Miss Williams, as she was then called, though she did not reside with him in the Temple under his roof, but had lodgings in Boltcourt, Fleet-street, had so much of his attention, in masks, to a very crowded audience, as I was told; for I then resided in Norfolk. Beard sang the salt-box song, which was admirably accompanied on that instrument by Brent, the fenc ing-master and father of Miss Brent, the celebrated singer; Skeggs on the broomstick, as bassoon; and a remarkable performer on the Jew's harp. -"Buzzing twangs the iron lyre." Cleavers were cast in bell-metal for this entertainment. All the performers of the old woman's Oratory, employed by Foote, were, I believe, employed at Ranelagh, on this occasion. -BURNEY. that he every night drank tea with her before he went home, however late it might be, and she always sat up for him. This, it may be fairly conjectured, was not alone a proof of his regard for her; but of his own unwillingness to go into solitude, before that unseasonable hour at which he had habituated himself to expect the oblivion of repose. Dr. Goldsmith, being a privileged man, went with him this night, strutting away, and calling to me with an air of superiority, like that of an esoteric over an exoteric disciple of a sage of antiquity (1), "I go to Miss Williams." I confess, I then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed so proud; but it was not long before I obtained the same mark of distinction. (2) (1) The ancient philosophers were supposed to have two sets of tenets-one, the exoteric, external, or public doctrines - the other, the esoteric, the internal, or secret doctrines, which were reserved for the more favoured few.. .C. (2) Goldsmith 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: - He was used to say he could play on the German flute as well as most men; at other times, as well as any man living; and, in his poem of the Traveller,' has hinted at this attainment; but, in truth, he understood not the character in which music is written, and played on that instrument, as many of the vulgar do, merely by ear. Roubiliac, the sculptor, a merry fellow, once heard him play; and minding to put a trick on him, pretended to be so charmed with his performance, that he entreated him to repeat the air, that he might write it down. Goldsmith readily con senting, Roubiliac called for paper, and scored thereon a few five-lined staves, which having done, Goldsmith proceeded to play, and Roubiliac to write; but his writing was only such random notes on the lines and spaces as any one might set down who had ever inspected a page of music. When they had both done, Roubiliac showed the paper 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 music 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. He once complained to a friend in these words: Mr. Martinelli is a rude man; I said, in his hearing, that there were no good writers among the Italians; and he said to one that sat near him, that I was very ignorant.''People,' said he, are greatly mistaken 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.' Having one day a call to wait on the late Duke (then Earl) of Northumberland, I found Goldsmith waiting for an audience in an outer room. I asked what had brought him there he replied, an invitation from his lordship. I made my business as short as I could; and, as a reason, mentioned, that Dr. Goldsmith was waiting without. The earl asked me, if I was acquainted with him. I told him I was, adding what I thought likely to recommend him. I retired, and stayed in the outer room to take Goldsmith home. Upon his coming out, I 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 kindness.' 'And what did you answer,' asked I, 'to this gracious offer?' "Why,' said he, I could say nothing, but that I had a brother there, a clergyman, that stood in need of help: as for myself, I have no dependence on the promises of great men; I look to the booksellers for support; they are my best friends, and I am not inclined to forsake them for others. 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 |
