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119. Retirement from the World.

The world, added he, is chiefly unjust and ungenerous in this, that all are ready to encourage a man who once talks of leaving it, and few things do really provoke me more, than to hear people prate of retirement, when they have neither skill to discern their own motives, nor penetration to estimate the consequences; but while a fellow is active to gain either power or wealth," continued he, "every body produces some hinderance to his advancement, some sage remark, or some unfavourable prediction; but let him once say slightly, I have had enough of this troublesome bustling world, 'tis time to leave it now: 'Ah, dear Sir! cries the first old acquaintance he meets, I am glad to find you in this happy disposition : yes, dear friend ! do retire, and think of nothing but your own ease : there's Mr. William will find it a pleasure to settle all your accounts, and relieve you from the fatigue; Miss Dolly makes the charmingest chicken broth in the world, and the cheesecakes we eat of hers once, how good they were: I will be coming every two or three days myself to chat with you in a quiet way; so snug! and tell you how

ney, in a tone of the highest panegyric, numbered him with Bentley, Dawes, Toup, and Porson; and a still later writer has thus candidly enumerated his merits: "Markland was endowed with a respectable portion of judgment and sagacity. He was very laborious, loved retirement, and spent a long life in the study of the Greek and Latin languages. For modesty, candour, literary honesty, and courteousness to other scholars, he is justly considered as the mode which ought to be proposed for the imitation of every critic."- Quart. Rev. vol. vii. p. 442. so far Mr. Markland. It is but just to all parties, that I should add, that (whatever Johnson may have said in the current of conversation, and probably in allusion to some minute and unrecorded circumstance) he had a fixed respect for the talents and character of Markland. For it will be seen, that on the 20th October, 1782, he wrote to Mr. Nichols, urging him to obtain some record of the Life of Markland, who, with Jortin and Thirlby, he calls three contemporaries of great eminence. - C.

matters go upon 'Change, or in the House, or, according to the blockhead's first pursuits, whether lucrative or politic, which thus he leaves; and lays himself down a voluntary prey to his own sensuality and sloth, while the ambition and avarice of the nephews and nieces, with their rascally adherents and coadjutors, reap the advantage, while they fatten their fool."

120. Marrying for Money.

As the votaries of retirement had little of Mr. Johnson's applause, unless he knew that the motives were merely devotional, and unless he was convinced that their rituals were accompanied by a mortified state of the body, the sole proof of their sincerity which he would admit, as a compensation for such fatigue as a worldly life of care and activity requires; so of the various states and conditions of humanity, he despised none more, I think, than the man who marries for a maintenance and of a friend who made his alliance on no

higher principles, he said once, "Now has that fellow" (it was a nobleman of whom we were speaking) "at length obtained a certainty of three meals a day, and for that certainty, like his brother dog in the fable, he will get his neck galled for life with a collar."

121. Poverty.

That poverty was an evil to be avoided by all honest means however, no man was more ready to avow: concealed poverty particularly, which he said was the general corrosive that destroyed the peace of almost every family; to which no evening perhaps ever returned without some new project for hiding the sorrows and dangers of the next day. "Want of money,” says Dr. Johnson, "is sometimes concealed under pretended avarice, and sly hints of aversion to part with it; sometimes under stormy anger, and affectation of boundless rage; but oftener still under a show of thoughtless ex

travagance and gay neglect; while, to a penetrating eye, none of these wretched veils suffice to keep the cruel truth from being seen. Poverty is hic et ubique,” says he ; "and if you do shut the jade out of the door, she will always contrive, in some manner, to poke her pale lean face in at the window."

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I have mentioned before, that old age had very little of Mr. Johnson's reverence: 66 a man commonly grew wickeder as he grew older," he said, "at least he but changed the vices of youth; headstrong passion and wild temerity, for treacherous caution and desire to circumvent. 66 I am always," said he, on the young people's side, when there is a dispute between them and the old ones for you have at least a chance for virtue till age has withered its very root."

While we were talking, my mother's spaniel, whom he never loved, stole our toast and butter; "Fie, Belle!" said I, "you used to be upon honour." "Yes, Madam," replies Johnson, "but Belle grows old." His reason for hating the dog was, "because she was a professed favourite," he said, "and because her lady ordered her from time to time to be washed and combed: a foolish trick," said he, "and an assumption of superiority that every one's nature revolts at; so because one must not wish ill to the lady in such cases," continued he, "one curses the cur.' The truth is, Belle was not well behaved, and being a large spaniel, was toublesome enough at dinner with frequent solicitations to be fed. "This animal," said Dr. Johnson one day, "would have been of extraordinary merit and value in the state of Lycurgus; for she condemns one to the exertion of perpetual vigilance."

123. Cats.. · Hodge's Oysters.

He had that strong aversion felt by all the lower ranks of people towards four-footed companions very

completely, notwithstanding he had, for many years, a cat which he called Hodge, that kept always in his room at Fleet Street; but so exact was he not to offend the human species by superfluous attention to brutes, that when the creature was grown sick and old, and could eat nothing but oysters, Mr. Johnson always went out himself to buy Hodge's dinner, that Francis the black's delicacy might not be hurt, at seeing himself employed for the convenience of a quadruped.

124. Mr. Cholmondeley.

No one was so attentive not to offend in all such sort of things as Dr. Johnson; nor so careful to maintain the ceremonies of life: and though he told Mr. Thrale once, that he had never sought to please till past thirty years old, considering the matter as hopeless, he had been always studious not to make enemies, by apparent preference of himself. It happened very comically, that the moment this curious conversation past, of which I was a silent auditress, was in the coach, in some distant province, either Shropshire or Derbyshire I believe ; and as soon as it was over, Mr. Johnson took out of his pocket a little book and read, while a gentleman of no small distinction for his birth and elegance suddenly rode up to the carriage, and paying us all his proper compliments, was desirous not to neglect Dr. Johnson; but observing that he did not see him, tapped him gently on the shoulder. "'T is Mr. Cholmondeley," says my husband. "Well, Sir! and what if it is Mr. Cholmondeley?" says the other sternly, just lifting his eyes a moment from his book, and returning to it again with renewed avidity. (1)

(1) For Boswell's strictures on this passage, see antè, Vol. VIII. p. 347. I subjoin Mr. Cholmondeley's own account of the circumstance, which however only confirms Mrs. Piozzi's statement: "In the year 1774 I was making a tour of Derbyshire in a gig with Windham. Just as we came to the point of the hill going down into Matlock, we saw Mr. Thrale's

125. "In Vino Veritas."

It was unlucky for those who delighted to echo Johnson's sentiments, that he would not endure from them to-day, what perhaps he had yesterday, by his own manner of treating the subject, made them fond of repeating; and I fancy Mr. Boswell has not forgotten, that though his friend one evening in a gay humour

carriage and four, in which were Dr. Johnson, Mr. and Mrs. Thrale the horses were breathing after ascending the hill: we had heard they were in those parts; of course this rencontre excited some interest. I, with all the conceit of a young man, saying, I know Dr. Johnson very well, I'll manage it all;' tripped very pertly from the gig to the carriage, shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, who were very glad to see me as people are glad in a commonplace way. Dr. Johnson took not the smallest notice; on which Mr. Thrale said, Dr. Johnson, here is Mr. Cholmondeley.' Dr. Johnson neither spoke nor moved. He_repeated, Dr. Johnson, here is Mr. Cholmondeley.' Dr. Johnson was equally silent. Mr. Thrale repeated it a third time; when Dr. Johnson answered, Well, Sir!' and what if there is Mr. Cholmondeley?' I, of course, tripped back again, much entertained at the humorous way in which my conceit had been put down. I imagine Mrs. Thrale must, in some dispute, have reproached him with this, as an instance of unprovoked brutality towards an unoffending person. Four years afterwards, I went to dine at Mr. Thrale's, at Brighton. The house was small; the passage running close by the room into the street. I arrived before Dr. Johnson was dressed. When he entered the room, he said, George, I want to speak to you.' He led me from the passage into the street; then said, George, I owe you reparation for an injury which I do not recollect. I am told that, some years ago, I met you on the point of Matlock Hill, and spoke to you with unjustifiable insolence; whether I was thinking of something else, or whether I had been quarrelling with Thrale, I know not; but I ought not so to have insulted an innocent unoffending young man; and I beg your pardon.' I told this to Mrs. Thrale, with all the animation such a beautiful trait was calculated to inspire; and after she published her garbled account of it, I called upon her, reminded her of this circumstance, pointed out to her how characteristic an anecdote it was, of a man whose temper was harsh, but whose principles were charitable in the extreme, and who was, consequently, always in a state of repentance for imaginary injuries: I enjoined her, by the love of truth and justice, to publish another edition of it, which she never did."— C.

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