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LIFE OF JOHNSON.

to his memory, with the following inscription, "Sit anima mea cum Langtono." These words had been once used by Johnson, when speaking of the certainty of his friend's happiness in a future life, and no more beautiful epitaph could have been chosen to place over his grave.

At one of his visits to Oxford, Johnson had met Langton's friend, Topham Beauclerk, a great-grandson of Charles II. and Nell Gywn. He was a man of dissipated habits, but of too good taste and propriety to make any parade of his vices, and Johnson was soon fascinated by his high-bred manners and polished address. Beauclerk had a remarkable gift of saying a good thing without effort, and with a look of unconsciousness of its effect which added immensely to the charm of his conversation. He thoroughly understood Johnson, and was able to take liberties with him, which no other person would have presumed to do. On one occasion, when staying with Beauclerk at Windsor, Johnson was enticed on a fine Sunday morning to saunter about the churchyard while service was going on, and at length laid down on one of the tombstones. "Now, sir," said Beauclerk, "you are like Hogarth's Idle Apprentice." When Johnson was granted a pension, Beauclerk addressed him with a happy, and perhaps too appropriate, quotation, slightly altered from Shakespeare, "I hope you will now purge and live cleanly like a gentleman."

Garrick, when he heard of this new friendship, said, "What a coalition! I shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house."

THE

CHAPTER VI.

HE most important event of the year 1764 was the formation of "The Club." "A tavern chair," Johnson once asserted, "was the throne of human felicity; and a club in those days combined the freedom of a tavern with the advantage, not only of associating with friends, but with only those friends, who had been chosen for their social qualities. Johnson had formerly belonged to a society which met weekly at The King's Head, in Ivy Lane. Hawkins has given, in his "Life of Johnson," a most interesting account of its members, among whom were Hawkins himself, Samuel Dyer, Hawkesworth, and Johnson's dear friend, Bathurst. Hawkins and Dyer were afterwards members of the more famous "Club," and the latter was one of the numerous claimants put forward for the authorship of "Junius's Letters."

"The Club," as it was at first called, was formed at the suggestion of Reynolds, and the number of members was limited to nine, who met once a week at The Turk's Head, Gerrard Street. The original members were Reynolds, Johnson, Edmund Burke, Dr. Nugent (Burke's father-in-law), Langton, Goldsmith, Chamier, and Sir

John Hawkins. Garrick was not a member till 1773, and, later in the same year, Boswell was elected, though not, as he afterwards heard from Johnson, without considerable opposition. Charles James Fox, then only just twenty-five years of age, was elected a few months later, in the spring of 1774; but whether, as Sir George Trevelyan thinks, from respect for his elder companions, or from other causes, he took little part in the discussions. He does not appear to have been on very familiar terms with Johnson, who probably was never invited within the classic grounds of Holland House. Between Burke and Johnson there were warm feelings of regard and mutual respect. They first met at Garrick's house at a dinner party on Christmas Day, 1758, and notwithstanding the widest difference of opinion on political subjects, their friendship continued unaltered for more than a quarter of a century.

But there was one among that number with whom Johnson was on still closer terms. Reynolds was nearer his own age than any of the society with which he generally associated. Johnson had first met the great artist soon after his return from Italy, and their intimacy grew closer each year. "If I should lose you," writes Johnson to Reynolds in 1764, "I should lose almost the only man whom I call a friend." There was no other person with whom Johnson was able to feel himself on distinctly equal terms, and from him only Johnson ever cared to seek advice. When the offer was made of a pension, Reynolds was the first person consulted. There was no rivalry possible between the two men, each so eminent in different ways; and the last episode, in this

interesting friendship, was when Johnson, from his deathbed, sent a messenger to Reynolds with three requests: to forgive him a small pecuniary debt; to read the Bible; and never to paint on a Sunday. Sir Joshua willingly promised to comply with his friend's wishes.

But Johnson's pen during this time was not entirely idle, and "The Traveller," published in December, was noticed by him in The Critical Review of January, 1765. "The Vanity of Human Wishes" had, as it was pointed out in the previous chapter, exercised considerable influence on Goldsmith's poetry, and the wiseacres of the time thought the greater part of his new work was written by Johnson, who had in reality contributed but nine lines. Two of these,

"How small of all that human hearts endure,

That part which laws or kings can cause or cure,"

might have been detected by an acute critic; for the same sentiment is expressed in "Rasselas," when the astronomer speaks of "the task of a king who has the care only of a few millions, to whom he cannot do much good or harm." "The Traveller," one of the most exquisite gems in our language, obtained a wide popularity, and induced the publishers to bring out "The Vicar of Wakefield," which its author had disposed of some time previously. The sale of Goldsmith's novel, as told by Boswell, is well known. "I received," said Johnson,

46

one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come

to him directly. I accordingly went, as soon as I was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork in the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon return; and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill." There are other versions of the affair, which differ only in unimportant details. Johnson had often repeated the story, and some of his hearers may have retained imperfect recollections of the narrative. Mrs. Piozzi relates that the incident happened when Johnson was dining at her own table, but this account was written many years after the event took place, and her ideas on the subject had probably become confused. We know from a note, in Johnson's own writing, that he did not make the acquaintance of the Thrales till 1765, and the sale of Goldsmith's MS. took place, at the very latest, in 1764. Cumberland's account differs from the others in one amusing variation. He pretends that the landlady (most likely Mrs. Fleming, whose portrait Hogarth is said to have painted) offered to forgive Goldsmith's debt if he would take his creditor to wife, but this is probably a picturesque effort of the writer's imagination. A very interesting entry, referring to the subject, was, not