yield a quaint scoff, they will travail to be delivered of it as a woman with child. These nimble fancies are but the froth of wit.

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286.-DR. JOHNSON'S DINNER TALK.

BOSWELL.

[MR. MACAULAY, in his Review of Boswell's Life of Johnson,' says, "Homer is not more decidedly the first of heroic poets, Shakspere is not more decidedly the first of dramatists, Demosthenes is not more decidedly the first of orators, than Boswell is the first of biographers. Many of the greatest men that ever lived have written biography. Boswell was one of the smallest men that ever lived, and he has beaten them all." Undoubtedly Boswell was a vain man, a bore, a ridiculous man-without moral dignity, without any logical or poetical capacity-but he was not "one of the smallest men that ever lived.” That he accurately reported what he heard and saw of the eminent persons to whose society he was admitted, there can be no doubt. But the very interest of the record shows that he could discriminate. He did not put down all that he heard-the conversation of six hours occupies only six pages;-he knew what was good in the talk of Johnson, and Goldsmith, and Reynolds, and Burke; and, what is better, he felt what was characteristic of the men; and these things make the charm of the book. This was talent, and an uncommon talent; and Jemmy Boswell, to whom we all owe so many hours of delight, must not be despised. Boswell was the son of Alexander Boswell, a Lord of Session; he was born in 1740; died 1795.]

:

On Tuesday, April 13, he and Dr. Goldsmith and I dined at General Oglethorpe's. Goldsmith expatiated on the common topic, that the race of our people was degenerated, and that this was owing to luxury.-JOHNSON. "Sir, in the first place, I doubt the fact. I believe that there are as many tall men in England now as ever there were. But, secondly, supposing the stature of our people to be diminished, that is not owing to luxury for, sir, consider to how very small a proportion of our people luxury can reach. Our soldiery, surely, are not luxurious, who live on sixpence a day; and the same remark will apply to almost all the other classes. Luxury, so far as it reaches the poor, will do good to the race of people; it will strengthen and multiply them. Sir, no nation was ever hurt by luxury; for, as I said before, it can reach but to a very few. I admit that the great increase of commerce and manufactures hurts the military spirit of a people; because it produces a competition for something else than martial honours- a competition for riches. It also hurts the bodies of the people; for you will observe, there is no man who works at any particular trade but you may know him from his appearance to do so. One part or other of his body being more used than the rest, he is in some degree deformed; but, sir, that is not luxury. A tailor sits crosslegged, but that is not luxury."-GOLDSMITH. "Come, you're just going to the same place by another road."-JOHNSON. Nay, sir, I say that is not luxury. Let us take a walk from Charing Cross to Whitechapel, through, I suppose, the greatest series of shops in the world; what is there in any of these shops (if you except gin-shops) that can do any human being any harm?"-GOLDSMITH. Well, sir, I'll accept your challenge. The very next shop to Northumberland House is a pickle-shop."-JOHNSON. 'Well, sir; do we not know that a maid can, in one afternoon, make pickles sufficient to serve a whole family for a year? Nay, that five pickle-shops can serve all the kingdom? Besides, sir, there is no harm done to anybody by the making of pickles, or the cating of pickles."

On Thursday, April 15, I dined with him and Dr. Goldsmith at General Paoli's. We found here Signor Martinelli of Florence, author of a History of England, in Italian, printed at London.

I spoke of Allan Ramsay's 'Gentle Shepherd,' in the Scottish dialect, as the best pastoral that had ever been written; not only abounding with beautiful rural imagery, and just and pleasing sentiments, but being a real picture of manners; and I offered to teach Dr. Johnson to understand it. No, sir," said he, "I won't learn You shall retain your superiority by my not knowing it."

it.

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An animated debate took place whether Martinelli should continue his History of England to the present day.-GOLDSMITH. "To be sure he should."-JOHNSON. "No, sir, he would give great offence. He would have to tell of almost all the living great what they do not wish told."-GOLDSMITH. "It may, perhaps, be necessary for a native to be more cautious; but a foreigner, who comes among us without prejudice, may be considered as holding the place of a judge, and may speak his mind freely."-JOHNSON. "Sir, a foreigner, when he sends a work from the press, ought to be on his guard against catching the error and mistaken enthusiasm of the people among whom he happens to be."-GOLDSMITH. "Sir, he wants only to sell his history, and to tell truth: one an honest, the other a laudable motive."-JOHNSON. "Sir, they are both laudable motives. It is laudable in a man to wish to live by his labours; but he must write so as he may live by them, not so as he may be knocked on the head. I would advise him to be at Calais before he publishes his history of the present age. A foreigner who attaches himself to any political party in this country is in the worst state that can be imagined; he is looked upon as a mere intermeddler. A native may do it from interest."-BOSWELL. "Or principle."-GOLDSMITH. "There are people who tell a hundred political lies every day, and are not hurt by it. Surely, then, one may tell truth with safety."-JOHNSON. Why, sir, in the first place, he who tells a hundred lies has disarmed the force of his lies. But, besides, a man had rather have a hundred lies told of him than one truth which he does not wish should be told."-GOLDSMITH. "For my part, I'd tell truth, and shame the devil.”—JOHNSON. "Yes, sir; but the devil will be angry. I wish to shame the devil as much as you do, but I should choose to be out of the reach of his claws."-GOLDSMITH, claws can do you no harm when you have the shield of truth."

"His

It having been observed that there was little hospitality in London :-JOHNSON, 'Nay, sir, any man who has a name, or who has the power of pleasing, will be very generally invited in London. The man Sterne, I have been told, has had engagements for three months.". -GOLDSMITH. "And a very dull fellow."-JOHNSON.

"Why, no, sir."

Martinelli told us, that for several years he lived much with Charles Townshend, and that he ventured to tell him he was a bad joker.-JOHNSON. "Why, sir, thus much I can say upon the subject. One day he and a few more agreed to go and dine in the country, and each of them was to bring a friend in his carriage with him. Charles Townshend asked Fitzherbert to go with him, bnt told him, 'you must find somebody to bring you back: I can only carry you there.' Fitzherbert did not much like this arrangement. He, however, consented, observing sarcastically, 'It will do very well; for then the same jokes will serve you in returning as in going!""

An eminent public character being mentioned:-JOHNSON. "I remember being present when he showed himself to be so corrupted, or at least something so different from what I think right, as to maintain, that a member of parliament should go along with his party, right or wrong. Now, sir, this is so remote from native virtue, from scholastic virtue, that a good man must have undergone a great change before he can reconcile himself to such a doctrine. It is maintaining that you may lie to the public; for you lie when you call that right which you think wrong, or the

reverse. A friend of ours, who is too much an echo of that gentleman, observed, that a man who does not stick uniformly to a party, is only waiting to be bought. Why, then, said I, he is only waiting to be what that gentleman is already."

We talked of the king's coming to see Goldsmith's new play :-"I wish he would," said Goldsmith: adding however, with an affected indifference, "Not that it would do me the least good."-JOHNSON. "Well then, sir, let us say it would do him good (laughing). No, sir, this affectation will not pass ;-it is mighty idle. In such a state as ours, who would not wish to please the chief magistrate ?"-GOLDSMITH. "I do wish to please him. I remember a line in Dryden,

I spoke of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, as being a very learned man, and in particular an eminent Grecian.-JOHNSON. "I am not sure of that. His friends give him out as such, but I know not who of his friends are able to judge of it."-GOLDSMITH. "He is what is much better: he is a worthy, humane man."-JOHNSON. "Nay, sir, that is not to the purpose of our argument: that will as much prove that he can play upon the fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian." GOLDSMITH. "The greatest musical performers have but small emoluments. Giardini, I am told, does not get above seven hundred a year."-JOHNSON. "That is indeed but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour to do. There is nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown so much, as in playing on the fiddle. In all other things we can do something at first. Any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. A man will saw a piece of wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a fiddlestick, and he can do nothing."

287.-SPECIAL MEANS OF CONTENTMENT.

BISHOP SANDerson.

[ROBERT SANDERSON, Bishop of Lincoln, was born at Rotherham, in 1587; was educated at Lincoln College, Oxford; in 1641 was appointed chaplain to Charles I., and during the troubles remained for many years in retirement at his humble living of Boothby Pagnell, occasionally suffering persecution and poverty. Upon the Restoration, he was created Bishop of Lincoln, in 1660. He died in 1662. The following extract is from 'The Christian Man a contented Man.']

The first thing to be done is to labour for a true and lively faith; for faith is the very basis, the foundation, whereupon our hearts, and all our hearts' content, must rest; the whole frame of our contentment rising higher or lower, weaker or stronger, in proportion to that foundation. And this faith, as to our present purpose, hath a double object, (as before was touched,) to wit, the goodness of God, and the truth of God; his goodness in the dispensation of his special providence for the present, and his truth in the performance of his temporal promises for the fature. First, then, labour to have thy heart thoroughly persuaded of the goodness of God towards thee; that he is thy father; and that whether he frown upon thee, or correct thee, or howsoever otherwise he seem to deal with thee, he still beareth a fatherly affection towards thee; that what he giveth thee, he giveth in love, because he seeth it best for thee to have it; and what he denieth thee, he denieth in love, because he seeth it best for thee to want it. A sick man, in the extremity of his distemper, desireth some of those that are about him and sit at his bedside, as they love him, to give him a draught of cold water to allay his thirst, but cannot obtain it from his dearest wife that lieth in his bosom, nor from his nearest friend

that loveth him as his own soul. They consider that if they should satisfy his desire they should destroy his life; they will therefore rather urge him, and even compel him, to take what the doctor hath prescribed, how unpleasant and distasteful soever it may seem unto him; and then, if pain and the impotency of his desire will but permit him the use of his reason, he yieldeth to their persuasions; for then he considereth that all this is done out of their love to him, and for his good, both when he is denied what he most desireth, and when he is pressed to take what he vehemently abhorreth. Persuade thyself, in like sort, of all the Lord's dealings with thee; if at any time he do not answer thee in the desire of thy heart, conclude there is either some unworthiness in thy person, or some inordinateness in thy desire, or some unfitness or unseasonableness in the thing desired-something or other not right on thy part; but be sure not to impute it to any defect of love in him.

And as thou art stedfastly to believe his goodness and love, in ordering all things in such sort as he doth for the present, so ought thou with like stedfastness to rest upon his truth and faithfulness for the making good of all those gracious promises that he hath made in his word concerning thy temporal provision and preservation for the future. Only understand those promises rightly, with their due conditions and limitations, and in that sense wherein he intended them when he made them, and then never doubt the performance; for say, in good sooth, art thou able to charge him with any breach of faith hitherto? Hast thou ever found that he hath dealt unfaithfully with thee? Or, didst thou ever hear that he hath dealt unfaithfully with any other? There is no want of power in him, that he should not be as big as his word; there is no want of love in him, that he should not be as good as his word. He is not as man, that he should repent; or as the son of man, that he should call back his word. There is no lightness or inconstancy in him, that there should be "yea and nay" in his promises; but they are all "yea and amen." Thy heart can tell thee that thou hast often broken vow and promise with him, and dealt unfaithfully in his covenant; but do not offer him that indignity, in addition to all thy other injuries, as to measure him by thyself, to judge of his feelings by thine, and to think him altogether such an one as thyself, so false, so fickle, so uncertain as thou art. Far be all such thoughts from every one of us! Though we deny him, yet he abideth faithful, and will not, cannot deny himself. We are flecting and mutable, off and on; to-day not the same as we were yesterday; and to-morrow, perhaps, like neither of the former days; yet he continueth yesterday, to-day, and the same for evermore. Roll thyself then upon his providence, and repose thyself with assured confidence upon his promises, and contentment will follow. Upon this base the apostle hath betokened contentation (Heb. xiii. 5.) "Be content with such things as ye have; for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."

The next thing we are to look after in this business is humility and poverty of spirit. It is our pride most that undoeth us; much of our discontent springeth from it. We think highly of ourselves; thence our envy, fretting, and pining away, when we see others who we think deserve not much better than we do to have yet much more than we have, wealth, honour, power, ease, reputation, any thing. Pride and beggary sort ill together, even in our own judgments; so hateful a thing is a proud beggar in the opinion of the world, that proverbs have grown from it; we think he better deserveth the stocks or the whip, than an alms, that beggeth at our doors, and yet taketh scornfully what is given him if it be not of the best in the house. Can we hate this in others towards ourselves, and yet be so blind with pride and self-love as not to discern the same hateful disposition in elres towards our good God? Extremely beggarly we are. Are we not very

beggars, that came naked into the world, and must go naked out of it ?-that brought nothing along with us at at our coming, and it is certain we shall carry nothing away with us at our departure? Are we not errant beggars, that must beg, and that daily, for our daily bread ?—and yet are we also extremely proud, and take the alms, that God thinketh fit to bestow upon us, in great snuff *, if it be not every way to our liking. Alas! what could we look for if God should give us but what we deserve? Did we but well consider our own unworthiness, it would enforce an acknowledgment from us, like that of Jacob, that we are far "less than the least of his mercies," &c. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under his table, as our dogs do under ours, who far better deserve it at our hands than we do at his. Our hands did not make them nor fashion them, yet they love us, and follow us, and guard our houses, and do us pleasures and services many other ways; but we, although we are his creatures, and the workmanship of his hands, yet do nothing (as of ourselves) but hate him, and dishonour him, and rebel against him, and by most unworthy provocation daily and minutely tempt his patience; and what good thing, then, can we deserve at his hands?-rather, what evil thing do we not deserve, if he should render to us according as we deal with him? Why should we then be displeased with any of his dispensations? Having deserved nothing, we may very well hold ourselves content with any thing.

A third help unto contentation is to set a just valuation upon the things we have. We commonly have our eye upon those things that we desire, and set so great a price upon them, that the overvaluing of what we have in chase and expectation maketh us much undervalue what we have in present possession; an infirmity to which the best of the faithful (the father of the faithful not excepted) are subject. It was the speech of no worse a man than Abraham: "O Lord," saith he, "what wilt thou give me, seeing I go childless?" as if he had said, "All this great increase of cattle, and abundance of treasure, which thou hast given me, avail me nothing so long as I have never a child to leave it to." It differeth not much, you see, from the speech of discontented Haman, "All this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai," &c., save that Abraham's speech proceeded from the weakness of his faith at that time, and under that temptation, and Haman's from habitual infidelity, and a heart totally carnal. It is the admirable goodness of a gracious God that he accepteth the faith of his poor servants, be it never so small, and passeth by the defects thereof, be they never so great; only it should be our care not to flatter ourselves so far as to cherish those infirmities, or allow ourselves therein, but rather to strive against them with our utmost strength, that we may overcome the temptation; and that is best done by casting our eye, as well upon what we have, and could not well be without, as upon what we fain would have, but might want. The things the Lord hath already lent thee, consider how useful they are to thee; how beneficial, how comfortable; how ill thou couldst spare them; how much worse thou shouldst be, than now thou art without them; how many men in the world, that want what thou enjoyest, would be glad, with all their hearts, to exchange for it that which thou so much desirest. And let these considerations prevail with thee, both to be thankful for what God hath been pleased already to give thee, and to be content to want what it is his pleasure yet to withhold from thee.

Another help for the same purpose, fourthly, is to compare ourselves and our estates rather with those that are below us, than with those that are above us. We love comparisons but too well unless we could make better use of them. We run over all our neighbours in our thoughts, and when we have so done we make * Snuff, perverse resentment.