Gibbon’s father, and he died in the house of the historian’s aunt. In describing the Serious Call Gibbon says:—‘His precepts are rigid, but they are founded on the gospel; his satire is sharp, but it is drawn from the knowledge of human life; and many of his portraits are not unworthy of the pen of La Bruyère. If he finds a spark of piety in his reader’s mind he will soon kindle it to a flame.’ Gibbon’s Misc. Works, i. 21.
[207] Mrs. Piozzi has given a strange fantastical account of the original of Dr. Johnson’s belief in our most holy religion. ‘At the age of ten years his mind was disturbed by scruples of infidelity, which preyed upon his spirits, and made him very uneasy, the more so, as he revealed his uneasiness to none, being naturally (as he said) of a sullen temper, and reserved disposition. He searched, however, diligently, but fruitlessly, for evidences of the truth of revelation; and, at length, recollecting a book he had once seen [I suppose at five years old] in his father’s shop, intitled De veritate Religionis, etc., he began to think himself highly culpable for neglecting such a means of information, and took himself severely to task for this sin, adding many acts of voluntary, and, to others, unknown penance. The first opportunity which offered, of course, he seized the book with avidity; but, on examination, not finding himself scholar enough to peruse its contents, set his heart at rest; and not thinking to enquire whether there were any English books written on the subject, followed his usual amusements and considered his conscience as lightened of a crime. He redoubled his diligence to learn the language that contained the information he most wished for; but from the pain which guilt [namely having omitted to read what he did not understand,] had given him, he now began to deduce the soul’s immortality [a sensation of pain in this world being an unquestionable proof of existence in another], which was the point that belief first stopped at; and from that moment resolving to be a Christian, became one of the most zealous and pious ones our nation ever produced.’ Anecdotes, p. 17.
This is one of the numerous misrepresentations of this lively lady, which it is worth while to correct; for if credit should be given to such a childish, irrational, and ridiculous statement of the foundation of Dr. Johnson’s faith in Christianity, how little credit would be due to it. Mrs. Piozzi seems to wish, that the world should think Dr. Johnson also under the influence of that easy logick, Stet pro ratione voluntas. BOSWELL. On April 28, 1783, Johnson said:—‘Religion had dropped out of my mind. It was at an early part of my life. Sickness brought it back, and I hope I have never lost it since.’ Most likely it was the sickness in the long vacation of 1729 mentioned ante, p. 63.
[208] In his Life of Milton, writing of Paradise Lost, he says:—‘But these truths are too important to be new; they have been taught to our infancy; they have mingled with our solitary thoughts and familiar conversations, and are habitually interwoven with the whole texture of life.’ Johnson’s Works, vii. 134.
[209] Acts xvi. 30.
[210] Sept. 7, Old Style, or Sept. 18, New Style.
[211] ‘He that peruses Shakespeare looks round alarmed, and starts to find himself alone.’ Johnson’s Works, v. 71. ‘I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia’s death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor.’ Ib. p. 175.
[212] He told Mr. Windham that he had never read through the Odyssey completely. Windham’s Diary, p. 17. At college, he said, he had been ‘very idle and neglectful of his studies.’ Ib.
[213] ‘It may be questioned whether, except his Bible, he ever read a book entirely through. Late in life, if any man praised a book in his presence, he was sure to ask, ‘Did you read it through?’ If the answer was in the affirmative, he did not seem willing to believe it.’ Murphy’s Johnson, p. 12. It would be easy to show that Johnson read many books right through, though, according to Mrs. Piozzi, he asked, ‘was there ever yet anything written by mere man that was wished longer by its readers excepting Don Quixote, Robinson Crusoe, and the Pilgrim’s Progress?’ Piozzi’s Anec., p. 281. Nevertheless in Murphy’s statement there is some truth. See what has been just stated by Boswell, that ‘he hardly ever read any poem to an end,’ and post, April 19, 1773 and June 15, 1784. To him might be applied his own description of Barretier:—‘He had a quickness of apprehension and firmness of memory which enabled him to read with incredible rapidity, and at the same time to retain what he read, so as to be able to recollect and apply it. He turned over volumes in an instant, and selected what was useful for his purpose.’ Johnson’s Works, vi. 390.
[214] See post, June 15, 1784. Mr. Windham (Diary, p. 17) records the following ‘anecdote of Johnson’s first declamation at college; having neglected to write it till the morning of his being (sic) to repeat it, and having only one copy, he got part of it by heart while he was walking into the hall, and the rest he supplied as well as he could extempore.’ Mrs. Piozzi, recording the same ancedote, says that ‘having given the copy into the hand of the tutor who stood to receive it as he passed, he was obliged to begin by chance, and continue on how he could…. “A prodigious risk, however,” said some one. “Not at all,” exclaims Johnson, “no man, I suppose, leaps at once into deep water who does not know how to swim.”’ Piozzi’s Anec. p. 30.
[215] He told Dr. Burney that he never wrote any of his works that were printed, twice over. Dr. Burney’s wonder at seeing several pages of his Lives of the Poets, in Manuscript, with scarce a blot or erasure, drew this observation from him. MALONE. ‘He wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the Life of Savage at a sitting’ (post, Feb. 1744), and a hundred lines of the Vanity of Human Wishes in a day (post, under Feb. 15, 1766). The Ramblers were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed (post, beginning of 1750). In the second edition, however, he made corrections. ‘He composed Rasselas in the evenings of one week’ (post, under January, 1759). ‘The False Alarm was written between eight o’clock on Wednesday night and twelve o’clock on Thursday night.’ Piozzi’s Anec., p. 41. ‘The Patriot‘ he says, ‘was called for on Friday, was written on Saturday’ (post, Nov. 26, 1774).
[216] ‘When Mr. Johnson felt his fancy, or fancied he felt it, disordered, his constant recurrence was to the study of arithmetic.’ Piozzi’s Anec. p. 77. ‘Ethics, or figures, or metaphysical reasoning, was the sort of talk he most delighted in;’ ib. p. 80. See post, Sept. 24, 1777.
[217] ‘Sept. 18, 1764, I resolve to study the Scriptures; I hope in the original languages. 640 verses every Sunday will nearly comprise the Scriptures in a year.’ Pr. and Med. p. 58. ‘1770, 1st Sunday after Easter. The plan which I formed for reading the Scriptures was to read 600 verses in the Old Testament, and 200 in the New, every week;’ ib. p. 100.
[218] ‘August 1, 1715. This being the day on which the late Queen Anne died, and on which George, Duke and Elector of Brunswick, usurped the English throne, there was very little rejoicing in Oxford…. There was a sermon at St. Marie’s by Dr. Panting, Master of Pembroke…. He is an honest gent. His sermon took no notice, at most very little, of the Duke of Brunswick.’ Hearne’s Remains, ii. 6.
[219] The outside wall of the gateway-tower forms an angle with the wall of the Master’s house, so that any one sitting by the open window and speaking in a strong emphatic voice might have easily been overheard.
[220] Goldsmith did go to Padua, and stayed there some months. Forster’s Goldsmith, i. 71.
[221] I had this anecdote from Dr. Adams, and Dr. Johnson confirmed it. Bramston, in his Man of Taste, has the same thought: ‘Sure, of all blockheads, scholars are the worst.’ BOSWELL. Johnson’s meaning, however, is, that a scholar who is a blockhead must be the worst of all blockheads, because he is without excuse. But Bramston, in the assumed character of an ignorant coxcomb, maintains that all scholars are blockheads on account of their scholarship. J. BOSWELL, JUN. There is, I believe, a Spanish proverb to the effect that, ‘to be an utter fool a man must know Latin.’ A writer in Notes and