sir; were Socrates and Charles the Twelfth of Sweden both present in any company, and Socrates to say, "Follow me, and hear a lecture in philosophy"; and Charles, laying his hand on his sword, to say, "Follow me, and dethrone the Czar"; a man would be ashamed to follow Socrates. Sir, the impression is universal: yet it is strange. As to the sailor, when you look down from the quarter-deck to the space below, you see the utmost extremity of human misery: such crowding, such filth, such stench!' BOSWELL: 'Yet sailors are happy.' JOHNSON: 'They are happy as brutes are happy, with a piece of fresh meat,—with the grossest sensuality. But, sir, the profession of soldiers and sailors has the dignity of danger. kind reverence those who have got over fear, which is so general a weakness. SCOTT: 'But is not courage mechanical, and to be acquired?' JOHNSON: 'Why yes, sir, in a collective sense. Soldiers consider them Man selves only as part of a great machine.' ScorT: 'We find people fond of being sailors.' JOHNSON: 'I cannot account for that any more than I can account for other strange perversions of imagination.' His abhorrence of the profession of a sailor was uniformly violent; but in conversation he always exalted the profession of a soldier. And yet I have, in my large and various collection of his writings, a letter to an eminent friend, in which he expresses himself thus: 'My godson called on me lately. He is weary, and rationally weary of a military life. If you can place him in some other state, I think you may increase his happiness, and secure his virtue. A soldier's time is passed in distress and danger, or in idleness and corruption.' Such was his cool reflection in his study; but whenever he was warmed and animated by the presence of company, he, like other philosophers, whose minds are impregnated with poetical fancy, caught the common enthusiasm for splendid renown. He talked of Mr. Charles Fox, of whose abilities he thought highly, but observed that he did not talk much at our Club. I have heard Mr. Gibbon remark, 'that Mr. Fox could not be afraid of Dr. Johnson; yet he certainly was very shy of saying anything in Dr. Johnson's presence.' Mr. Scott now quoted what was said of Alcibiades by a Greek poet, to which Johnson assented.1 He told us that he had given Mrs. Montague a catalogue of all Daniel Defoe's works of imagination; most, if not all of which, as well as of his other works, he now enumerated, allowing a considerable share of merit to a man, who, bred a tradesman, had written so variously and so well. Indeed, his Robinson Crusoe is enough of itself to establish his reputation. He expressed great indignation at the imposture of 1 [Wishing to discover the ancient observation here referred to, I applied to Sir William Scott on the subject, but he had no recollection of it. My old and very learned friend, Dr. Michael Kearney, formerly senior fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, and now Archdeacon of Raphoe in Ireland, has, however, most happily elucidated this passage. He remarks to me, that Mr. Boswell's memory must here have deceived him; and that Mr. Scott's observation must have been, that "Mr. Fox, in the instance mentioned, might be considered as the reverse of Phoax, of whom, as Plutarch relates in the Life of Alcibiades, Eupolis the tragedian said, It is true he can talk, and yet he is no speaker." If this discovery had been made by a scholiast on an ancient author, with what ardour and exuberant praise would Bentley or Taylor have spoken of it! Sir William Scott, to whom I communicated Dr. Kearney's remark, is perfectly satisfied that it is correct. For the other observations, signed K, we are indebted to the same gentleman. Every classical reader will lament that they are not more numerous.-M.] |