On Boswell's expressing his wonder at his discovering so much of the knowledge peculiar to different professions, he explained: "I learned what I know of law chiefly from Mr. Ballow, a very able man I learned some too from Chambers, but was not so teachable then. One is not willing to be taught by a young man. When Boswell expressed a wish to know more about Mr. Ballow, Johnson said: "Sir, I have seen him but once these twenty years. The tide of life has driven us different ways." "My knowledge of physic," he added, "I learned from Dr. James, whom I helped in writing the proposals for his Dictionary, and also a little in the Dictionary itself. I also learned from Dr. Lawrence; but was then grown more stubborn."

66

A gentleman maintained that a general diffusion of knowledge among a people was a disadvantage, for it made the vulgar rise above their humble sphere. JOHNSON. 'Sir, while knowledge is a distinction, those who are possessed of it will naturally rise above those who are not. Merely to read and write was a distinction at first; but we see, when reading and writing have become general, the common people keep their stations. And so, were higher attainments to become general, the effect would be the same."

On deficiency of knowledge Johnson observed: "It is amazing what ignorance of certain points one sometimes finds in men of eminence. A wit about town, who wrote loose Latin verses, asked me how it happened that England and Scotland, which were once two kingdoms, were now one :-and Sir Fletcher Norton did not seem to know that there were such publications as the Reviews."

III.

MAN.

OHNSON and an Irish gentleman got into a dispute concerning the cause of some part of mankind being black. "Why, sir," said Johnson, "it has been accounted for in three ways either by supposing that they are the posterity of Ham, who was cursed; or that God at first created two kinds of men, one black and another white; or that by the heat of the sun the skin is scorched, and so acquires a sooty hue. This matter has been much canvassed among naturalists, but has never been brought to any certain issue."

On a very rainy night Boswell made some common-place observations on the relaxation of nerves and depression of spirits which such weather occasioned; * adding, however, that it was good for the vegetable creation. Johnson, who systematically denied that the temperature of the air had any influence on the human frame, answered, with a smile of ridicule: "Why, yes, sir, it is good for vegetables, and for the animals who eat those vegetables, and for the animals who eat those animals."

At another time, on a very wet day, Boswell again complained of the disagreeable effects of such weather. JOHNSON. "Sir, this is all imagination, which physicians encourage; for man lives in air, as fish lives in water; so that, if the atmosphere press heavy from above, there is equal resistance from below. To be sure bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be abroad; and men cannot labour so well in the open air in bad weather as in good; but, sir, a smith or a tailor, whose work is within doors, will surely do as much in rainy weather as in fair. Some delicate frames, indeed, may be affected by wet weather; but not common constitutions."

* Johnson would suffer none of his friends to fill up chasms in conversation with remarks on the weather. "Let us not talk of the weather."Burney.

Subsequently, however, when seventy-five, Johnson wrote to Dr. Burney: "The weather, you know, has not been balmy; I am now reduced to think, and am at last reduced to talk, of the weather. Pride must have a fall."

Talking of our feeling for the distresses of others: JOHNSON. "Why, sir, there is much noise made about it, but it is greatly exaggerated. No, sir, we have a certain degree of feeling to prompt us to do good; more than that Providence does not intend. It would be misery to no purpose." BOSWELL. "But suppose now, sir, that one of your intimate friends were apprehended for an offence for which he might be hanged." JOHNSON. "I should do what I could to bail him, and give him any other assistance; but, if he were once fairly hanged, I should not suffer." BOSWELL. "Would you eat your dinner that day, sir?" JOHNSON. “Yes, sir, and eat it as if he were eating with me. Why, there's Baretti, who is to be tried for his life tomorrow friends have risen up for him on every side; yet, if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice of plum-pudding the less. Sir, that sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in depressing the mind.” BOSWELL. "I dined lately at Foote's,

who showed me a letter which he had received from Tom Davies, telling him that he had not been able to sleep from the concern he felt on account of this sad affair of Baretti, begging of him to try if he could suggest any thing that might be of service, and at the same time recommending to him an industrious young man who kept a pickle-shop." JOHNSON. "Ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy; a friend hanged, and a cucumber pickled. We know not whether Baretti or the pickle man kept Davies from sleep; nor does he know himself. And as to his not sleeping, sir, Tom Davies is a very great man. Tom has been upon the stage, and knows how to do those things; I have not been upon the stage, and cannot do those things." BOSWELL. "I have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as sensibly as many say they do.

JOHNSON. "Sir, don't be duped by them any more. You will find these very feeling people are not ready to do you good. They pay you by feeling."

On another occasion he said: "Pity is not natural to man. Children are always cruel. Savages are always cruel. Pity is acquired and improved by the cultivation of reason. We may have uneasy sensations from seeing a creature in distress without pity; for we have not pity unless we wish to relieve them. When I am on my way to dine with a friend and, finding it late, have bid the coachman make haste, if I happen to attend when he whips his horses, I may feel unpleasantly that the animals are put to pain, but I do not wish him to desist. No, sir, I wish him to drive on."

Yet the reverend Dr. Maxwell of Ireland, some time assistant preacher at the Temple, and for many years his social friend, testified of him: "His philosophy, though austere and solemn, was by no means morose and cynical, and never blunted the laudable sensibilities of his character, or exempted him from the influence of the tender passions. Want of tenderness, he always alleged, was want of parts, and was no less a proof of stupidity than of depravity."

Speaking of a certain prelate, who exerted himself very laudably in building churches and parsonage-houses; "however," said he, "I do not find that he is esteemed a man of such professional learning, or a liberal patron of it; yet it is well where a man possesses any strong positive excellence. Few have all kinds of merit belonging to their character. We must not examine matters too deeply-No, sir, a fallible being will fail somewhere."

So many objections, he declared, might be made to every thing that nothing could overcome them but the necessity of doing something. No man would be of any profession, as simply opposed to not being of it; but every one must do something.

On another occasion, however, he made the common remark on the unhappiness which men who have led a busy life experience, when they retire in expectation of enjoying themselves at ease; and that they generally languish for want of their habitual occupation, and wish to return to it. He mentioned as strong an instance of this as can well be imagined. "An eminent tallow-chandler in London, who had acquired a considerable fortune, gave up the trade in favour of his foreman, and went to live at a country house near town. He soon grew weary, and paid frequent visits to his old shop, where he desired they might let him know their melting-days, and he would come and assist them; which he accordingly did. Here, sir, was a man to whom the most disgusting circumstances in the business to which he had been used were a relief from idleness."

He said, mankind have a strong attachment to the habitations to which they have been accustomed. "You see the inhabitants of Norway do not, with one consent, quit it, and go to some part of America, where there is a mild climate, and where they may have the same produce from land with the tenth part of labour. No, sir, their affection for their old dwellings, and the terror of a general change keep them at home. Thus we see many of the finest spots in the world thinly inhabited, and many rugged spots well inhabited."

Boswell mentioned a friend of his who had resided long in Spain, and was unwilling to return to Britain. JOHNSON. "Sir, he is attached to some woman." "" BOSWELL. "I rather believe, sir, it is the fine climate that keeps him there." JOHNSON. "Nay, sir, how can you talk so? What is climate to happiness? Place me in the heart of Asia, should I not be exiled? What proportion does climate bear to the complete system of human life? You may advise me to go to live at Bologna to eat sausages. The sausages there are the best in the world; they lose much by being carried."

He observed that a prime source of erroneous judgment was