college (1) being sent to England on the mission some years after, spent much of their time with him at Bolt Court I know, and he was ever earnest to retain their friendship; but, though beloved by all his Roman Catholic acquaintance, particularly Dr. Nugent, for whose esteem he had a singular value, yet was Mr. Johnson a most unshaken church-of-England man.

(1) The Rev. James Compton (see antè, Vol. VIII. p. 201.) and the Rev. Joseph Wilks. Mr. Wilks was born at Coughton Court, Warwickshire, and educated at St. Edmund's, a Benedictine monastery in Paris. He was sometime chaplain to Mr. Basil Fitzherbert, of Swinnerton in Staffordshire, and afterwards the chief priest of Bath. In 1788 he was added to the English Catholic committee, appointed to "watch over and promote their public interests," then consisting of thirteen persons; but having incurred the displeasure of his Bishop, Dr. Walmsley, (most probably with reference to the proceedings of this committee -see Butler's Historical Memoirs of the Catholics, vol. iv.) he quitted England, and, after visiting various parts of the continent, died at Douay in 1829, about the age of 82. Whilst in England, he was well received at Oxford; and it is said that he gave some assistance to Dr. Kennicot, when preparing his Hebrew Bible, in which language Wilks was a proficient. Mr. Ryding, who knew him intimately, describes Wilks as a humble and devout man, possessing very superior talents. At Johnson's suggestion, he wrote the Life of Socrates, which the former promised to revise, particularly with a view to expunge any Gallicisms which might have crept into the work. It is believed that it was finished, but never published. Johnson selected Wilks as his companion, when visiting the public libraries, &c. in Paris. At the King's library Johnson's singular appearance, and his full-mouthed pronunciation of Latin, exposed him to some ridicule from a French Abbé. According to Mr. Ryding, Johnson declared to the Prior, that, so much was he pleased with his reception by the Benedictines, that, could he procure an increase to his pension, he would return to France, with the intention of ending his days as an inmate of the monastery. To every one conversant with the opinions which Johnson openly expressed as to certain important tenets of Popery, as well as with his arguments against monastic and solitary life, not only will many weighty objections occur, as to the probability of such intention having been seriously entertained, but it must also be evident, that to a man retiring from the world an increase of pension would be useless, and that a life of literary ease would have proved a slender compensation to Johnson for the loss of Bolt Court and the Literary Club. — MARKLAND.

The settled aversion Dr. Johnson felt towards an infidel he expressed to all ranks, and at all times, without the smallest reserve; for though on common occasions he paid great deference to birth or title, yet his regard for truth and virtue never gave way to meaner considerations. We talked of a dead wit one evening, and somebody praised him "Let us never praise talents so ill employed, Sir; we foul our mouths by commending such infidels," said he. Allow him the lumières at least, entreated one of the company- " I do allow him, Sir," replied Johnson, "just enough to light him to hell."

"He

Of a Jamaica gentleman, then lately dead will not, whither he is now gone," said Johnson, "find much difference, I believe, either in the climate or the company."

The Abbé Raynal probably remembers that, being at the house of a common friend in London, the master of it approached Johnson with that gentleman so much celebrated in his hand, and this speech in his mouth : "Will you permit me, Sir, to present to you the Abbé Raynal ?" "No, Sir," replied the Doctor, very loud; and suddenly turned away from them both.

He would sometimes good-naturedly enter into a long chat for the instruction or entertainment of people he despised. I perfectly recollect his condescending to delight my daughter's dancing-master with a long argument about his art; which the man protested, at the close of the discourse, the Doctor knew more of than himself; who remained astonished, enlightened, and amused by the talk of a person little likely to make a good disquisition upon dancing.

I have sometimes indeed been rather pleased than vexed when Mr. Johnson has given a rough answer to a

man who perhaps deserved one only half as rough, because I knew he would repent of his hasty reproof, and make us all amends by some conversation at once instructive and entertaining, as in the following cases: A young fellow asked him abruptly one day, “Pray, Sir, what and where is Palmyra? I heard somebody talk last night of the ruins of Palmyra." " "T is a hill in Ireland," replies Johnson, "with palms growing on the top, and a bog at the bottom, and so they call it Palm-mira." Seeing, however, that the lad thought him serious, and thanked him for the information, he undeceived him very gently indeed; told him the history, geography, and chronology of Tadmor in the wilderness, with every incident that literature could furnish, I think, or eloquence express, from the building of Solomon's palace to the voyage of Dawkins and Wood.

50. Marriage.

When he was musing over the fire in our drawing-room at Streatham, a young gentleman called to him suddenly, and I suppose he thought disrespectfully, in these words: "Mr. Johnson, would you advise me to marry?" "I would advise no man to marry, Sir," returns for answer in a very angry tone Dr. Johnson," who is not likely to propagate understanding ;" and so left the room. Our companion looked confounded, and I believe had scarce recovered the consciousness of his own existence, when Johnson came back, and drawing his chair among us, with altered looks and a softened voice, joined in the general chat, insensibly led the conversation to the subject of marriage, where he laid himself out in a dissertation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the true knowledge of human life, and so adorned with beauty of sentiment, that no one ever recollected the offence, except to rejoice in its consequences. He repented just as certainly, however, if he had been led to praise any

person or thing by accident more than he thought it deserved, and was on such occasions comically earnest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had unintentionally given.

51. Paintings. Reynolds.

Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned some picture as excellent. "It has often grieved me, Sir," said Mr. Johnson, "to see so much mind as the science of painting requires, laid out upon such perishable materials: why do not you oftener make use of copper? I could wish your superiority in the art you profess, to be preserved in stuff more durable than canvass.' Sir Joshua urged the difficulty of procuring a plate large enough for historical subjects, and was going to raise further objections: "What foppish obstacles are these!" exclaims, on a sudden, Dr. Johnson: "here is Thrale, who has a thousand tun of copper; you may paint it all round if you will, I suppose; it will serve him to brew in afterwards: will it not, Sir?" to my husband, who sat by.

Indeed, Dr. Johnson's utter scorn of painting was such, that I have heard him say, that he should sit very quietly in a room hung round with the works of the greatest masters, and never feel the slightest disposition to turn them if their backs were outermost, unless it might be for the sake of telling Sir Joshua that he had turned them. Such speeches may appear offensive to many, but those who knew he was too blind to discern the perfections of an art which applies itself immediately to our eyesight, must acknowledge he was not in the wrong.

52. Prospects.

He delighted no more in music than painting; he was almost as deaf as he was blind: travelling with Dr. Johnson was for these reasons tiresome enough.

Mr. Thrale loved prospects, and was mortified that his friend could not enjoy the sight of those different dispositions of wood and water, hill and valley, that travelling through England and France affords a man. But when he wished to point them out to his companion: "Never heed such nonsense," would be the reply: a blade of grass is always a blade of grass, whether in one country or another: let us, if we do talk, talk about something; men and women are my subjects of enquiry; let us see how these differ from those we have left behind."

53. Porridge Island.

I was saying to a friend one day, that I did not like goose; one smells it so while it is roasting, said I: "But you, Madam," replies the Doctor, "have been at all times a fortunate woman, having always had your hunger so forestalled by indulgence, that you never experienced the delight of smelling your dinner beforehand." Which pleasure, answered I pertly, is to be enjoyed in perfection by such as have the happiness to pass through Porridge Island (1) of a morning. "Come, come," says he gravely, "let's have no sneering at what is serious to so many: hundreds of your fellow-creatures, dear lady, turn another way, that they may not be tempted by the luxuries of Porridge Island to wish for gratifications they are not able to obtain: you are certainly not better than all of them; give God thanks that you are happier."

54. Foppish Lamentations.

I received on another occasion as just a rebuke from

(1) Porridge Island is a mean street in London, filled with cook-shops for the convenience of the poorer inhabitants; the real name of it I know not, but suspect that which it is generally known by to have been originally a term of derision.-P. It is not a street, but a paved alley near the church of St. Martin's in the Fields. — M.