c William Weller Pepys, Esq., one of the Masters in the High Court of Chancery, and well known in polite circles. My acquaintance with him is not sufficient to enable me to speak of him from my own judgement. But I know that both at Eton and Oxford he was the intimate friend of the late Sir James Macdonald, the Marcellus1016 of Scotland, whose extraordinary talents, learning, and virtues, will ever be remembered with admiration and regret.
a Pr. and Med. p. 191.
a [Richard Berenger, Esq., many years Gentleman of the Horse, and first equerry to his present Majesty.]
a See this explained, ante, p. 791.
a [As this subject frequently recurs in these volumes, the reader may be led erroneously to suppose that Dr. Johnson was so fond of such discussions, as frequently to introduce them. But the truth is, that the authour himself delighted in talking concerning ghosts, and what he has frequently denominated the mysterious; and therefore took every opportunity of leading Johnson to converse on such subjects.]
a St. Matthew, chap. xxvii. vv. 52, 53.
b See ante, p. 702.
a See ante, p. 807.
a Johnson, whose memory was wonderfully retentive, remembered the first four lines of this curious production, which have been communicated to me by a young lady1034 of his acquaintance: –
‘When first I drew my vital breath,
A little minikin I came upon earth:
And then I came from a dark abode,
Into this gay and gaudy world.’
a Mr. Wilkes probably did not know that there is in an English sermon the most comprehensive and lively account of that entertaining faculty, for which he himself is so much admired. It is in Dr. Barrow’s first volume, and fourteenth sermon, ‘Against foolish Talking and Jesting.’ My old acquaintance, the late Corbyn Morris, in his ingenious Essay on Wit, Humour, and Ridicule, calls it ‘a profuse description of Wit;’ but I do not see how it could be curtailed, without leaving out some good circumstance of discrimination. As it is not generally known, and may perhaps dispose some to read sermons, from which they may receive real advantage, while looking only for entertainment, I shall here subjoin it:–
‘But first (says the learned preacher) it may be demanded, what the thing we speak of is? Or what this facetiousness (or wit as he calls it before) doth import? To which questions I might reply, as Democritus did to him that asked the definition of a man, “ ’Tis that which we all see and know.” Any one better apprehends what it is by acquaintance, than I can inform him by description. It is, indeed, a thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, so variously apprehended by several eyes and judgements, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain notion thereof, than to make a portrait of Proteus,1038 or to define the figure of the fleeting air. Sometimes it lieth in pat allusion to a known story, or in seasonable application of a trivial saying, or in forging an apposite tale; sometimes it playeth in words and phrases, taking advantage from the ambiguity of their sense, or the affinity of their sound: sometimes it is wrapped in a dress of humourous expression: sometimes it lurketh under an odd similitude: sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a smart answer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in cunningly diverting or cleverly retorting an objection: sometimes it is couched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute nonsense: sometimes a scenical representation of persons or things, a counterfeit speech, a mimical look or gesture, passeth for it: sometimes an affected simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous bluntness giveth it being: sometimes it riseth only from a lucky hitting upon what is strange: sometimes from a crafty wresting obvious matter to the purpose. Often it consisteth in one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how. Its ways are unaccountable, and inexplicable; being answerable to the numberless rovings of fancy, and windings of language. It is, in short, a manner of speaking out of the simple and plain way, (such as reason teacheth and proveth things by,) which by a pretty surprizing uncouthness in conceit or expression, doth affect and amuse the fancy, stirring in it some wonder, and breeding some delight thereto. It raiseth admiration, as signifying a nimble sagacity of apprehension, a special felicity of invention, a vivacity of spirit, and reach of wit more than vulgar; it seeming to argue a rare quickness of parts, that one can fetch in remote conceits applicable; a notable skill, that he can dextrously accommodate them to the purpose before him; together with a lively briskness of humour, not apt to damp those sportful flashes of imagination. (Whence in Aristotle such persons are termed e]pidénioi, dextrous men, and et7rsqouoi, men of facile or versatile manners, who can easily turn themselves to all things, or turn all things to themselves.) It also procureth delight, by gratifying curiosity with its rareness, as semblance of difficulty: (as monsters, not for their beauty, but their rarity; as juggling tricks, not for their use, but their abstruseness, are beheld with pleasure:) by diverting the mind from its road of serious thoughts; by instilling gaiety and airiness of spirit; by provoking to such dispositions of spirit in way of emulation or complaisance; and by seasoning matters, otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an unusual and thence grateful tang.’
a When I mentioned this to the Bishop of Killaloe, ‘With the goat,’ said his Lordship. Such, however, is the engaging politeness and pleasantry of Mr. Wilkes, and such the social good humour of the Bishop, that when they dined together at Mr. Dilly’s, where I also was, they were mutually agreeable.
a Mr. Benjamin Stillingfleet, authour of tracts relating to natural history, &c.
b Next day I endeavoured to give what had happened the most ingenious turn I could, by the following verses: –
TO THE HONOURABLE MISS MONCKTON.
‘Not that with th’ excellent Montrose
I had the happiness to dine;
Not that I late from table rose,
From Graham’s wit, from generous wine.
It was not these alone which led
On sacred manners to encroach:
And made me feel what most I dread,
JOHNSON’S just frown, and self-reproach.
But when I enter’d, not abash’d,
From your bright eyes were shot such rays,
At once intoxication flash’d,
And all my frame was in a blaze.
But not a brilliant blaze I own,
Of the dull smoke I’m yet asham’d;
I was a dreary ruin grown,
And not enlighten’d though inflam’d.
Victim at once to wine and love,
I hope, MARIA, you’ll forgive;
While I invoke the powers above,
That henceforth I may wiser live.’
The lady was generously forgiving, returned me an obliging answer, and I thus obtained an Act of Oblivion, and took care never to offend again.
a I recollect a ludicrous paragraph in the newspapers, that the King had pensioned both a He-bear and a She-bear.