of the heat; that it gets to the centre of the circle, as the coolest place; that its turning its tail in upon its head is merely a convulsion, and that it does not sting itself. He said he would be satisfied if the great anatomist Morgagni, after dissecting a scorpion on which the experiment had been tried, should certify that its sting had penetrated into its head.
He seemed pleased to talk of natural philosophy. ‘That woodcocks, (said he,) fly over to the northern countries is proved, because they have been observed at sea. Swallows certainly sleep all the winter. A number of them conglobulate together[160], by flying round and round, and then all in a heap throw themselves under water, and lye in the bed of a river[161].’ He told us, one of his first essays was a Latin poem upon the glow-worm. I am sorry I did not ask where it was to be found.
Talking of the Russians and the Chinese, he advised me to read Bell’s travels[162]. I asked him whether I should read Du Halde’s account of China[163]. ‘Why yes, (said he) as one reads such a book; that is to say, consult it.’
He talked of the heinousness of the crime of adultery, by which the peace of families was destroyed. He said, ‘Confusion of progeny constitutes the essence of the crime; and therefore a woman who breaks her marriage vows is much more criminal than a man who does it.[164] A man, to be sure, is criminal in the sight of God: but he does not do his wife a very material injury, if he does not insult her; if, for instance, from mere wantonness of appetite, he steals privately to her chambermaid. Sir, a wife ought not greatly to resent this. I would not receive home a daughter who had run away from her husband on that account. A wife should study to reclaim her husband by more attention to please him. Sir, a man will not, once in a hundred instances, leave his wife and go to a harlot, if his wife has not been negligent of pleasing.’
Here he discovered that acute discrimination, that solid judgement, and that knowledge of human nature, for which he was upon all occasions remarkable. Taking care to keep in view then moral and religious duty, as understood in our nation, he shewed clearly from reason and good sense, the greater degree of culpability in the one sex deviating from it than the other; and, at the same time, inculcated a very useful lesson as to the way to keep him.
I asked him if it was not hard that one deviation from chastity should so absolutely ruin a young woman. JOHNSON. ‘Why, no, Sir; it is the great principle which she is taught. When she has given up that principle, she has given up every notion of female honour and virtue, which are all included in chastity.’
A gentleman[165] talked to him of a lady whom he greatly admired and wished to marry, but was afraid of her superiority of talents. ‘Sir, (said he) you need not be afraid; marry her. Before a year goes about, you’ll find that reason much weaker, and that wit not so bright.’ Yet the gentleman may be justified in his apprehension by one of Dr. Johnson’s admirable sentences in his life of Waller: ‘He doubtless praised many[166] whom he would have been afraid to marry; and, perhaps, married one whom he would have been ashamed to praise. Many qualities contribute to domestic happiness, upon which poetry has no colours to bestow; and many airs and sallies may delight imagination, which he who flatters them never can approve.’
He praised Signor Baretti. ‘His account of Italy is a very entertaining book[167]; and, Sir, I know no man who carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti[168]. There are strong powers in his mind. He has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly.’
At this time I observed upon the dial-plate of his watch[169] a short Greek inscription, taken from the New Testament, Nux gar erchetai[170], being the first words of our SAVIOUR’S solemn admonition to the improvement of that time which is allowed us to prepare for eternity: ‘the night cometh, when no man can work.’ He sometime afterwards laid aside this dial-plate; and when I asked him the reason, he said, ‘It might do very well upon a clock which a man keeps in his closet; but to have it upon his watch which he carries about with him, and which is often looked at by others, might be censured as ostentatious.’ Mr. Steevens is now possessed of the dial-plate inscribed as above.
He remained at Oxford a considerable time[171]; I was obliged to go to
London, where I received his letter, which had been returned from
Scotland.
‘TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
‘MY DEAR BOSWELL,
‘I have omitted a long time to write to you, without knowing very well why. I could now tell why I should not write; for who would write to men who publish the letters of their friends, without their leave[172]? Yet I write to you in spite of my caution, to tell you that I shall be glad to see you, and that I wish you would empty your head of Corsica, which I think has filled it rather too long. But, at all events, I shall be glad, very glad to see you.
‘I am, Sir,
‘Yours affectionately,
‘SAM. JOHNSON.’
‘Oxford, March 23, 1768.’
I answered thus:
‘TO MR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.
‘London, 26th April, 1768[173].
‘MY DEAR SIR,
‘I have received your last letter, which, though very short, and by no means complimentary, yet gave me real pleasure, because it contains these words, “I shall be glad, very glad to see you.” Surely you have no reason to complain of my publishing a single paragraph of one of your letters; the temptation to it was so strong. An irrevocable grant of your friendship, and your dignifying my desire of visiting Corsica with the epithet of “a wise and noble curiosity,” are to me more valuable than many of the grants of kings.
‘But how can you bid me “empty my head of Corsica[174]?” My noble-minded friend, do you not feel for an oppressed nation bravely struggling to be free? Consider fairly what is the case. The Corsicans never received any kindness from the Genoese[175]. They never agreed to be subject to them. They owe them nothing; and when reduced to an abject state of slavery, by force, shall they not rise in the great cause of liberty, and break the galling yoke? And shall not every liberal soul be warm for them? Empty my head of Corsica! Empty it of honour, empty it of humanity, empty it of friendship, empty it of piety. No! while I live, Corsica and the cause of the brave islanders shall ever employ much of my attention, shall ever interest me in the sincerest manner.
‘I am, &c.
‘JAMES BOSWELL.’
Upon his arrival in London in May, he surprized me one morning with a visit at my lodgings in Half-Moon-street[176], was quite satisfied with my explanation, and was in the kindest and most agreeable frame of mind. As he had objected to a part of one of his letters being published, I thought it right to take this opportunity of asking him explicitly whether it would be improper to publish his letters after his death. His answer was, ‘Nay, Sir, when I am dead, you may do as you will[177].’
He talked in his usual style with a rough contempt of popular liberty[178]. ‘They make a rout about universal liberty, without considering that all that is to be valued, or indeed can be enjoyed by individuals, is private liberty. Political liberty is good only so far as it produces private liberty. Now, Sir, there is the liberty of the press, which you know is a constant topick[179]. Suppose you and I and two hundred more were restrained from printing our thoughts: what then? What proportion would that restraint upon
