never doubt of it again." They became sentimental, and talked of the
misery of human life. Boswell spoke of the pleasures of society. "Alas,
sir," replied Johnson, like a true pessimist, "these are only struggles
for happiness!" He felt exhilarated, he said, when he first went to
Ranelagh, but he changed to the mood of Xerxes weeping at the sight of
his army. "It went to my heart to consider that there was not one in all
that brilliant circle that was not afraid to go home and think; but that
the thoughts of each individual would be distressing when alone." Some
years before he had gone with Boswell to the Pantheon and taken a more
cheerful view. When Boswell doubted whether there were many happy people
present, he said, "Yes, sir, there are many happy people here. There are
many people here who are watching hundreds, and who think hundreds are
watching them." The more permanent feeling was that which he expressed
in the "serene autumn night" in Taylor's garden. He was willing,
however, to talk calmly about eternal punishment, and to admit the
possibility of a "mitigated interpretation."

After supper he dictated to Boswell an argument in favour of the negro
who was then claiming his liberty in Scotland. He hated slavery with a
zeal which the excellent Boswell thought to be "without knowledge;" and
on one occasion gave as a toast to some "very grave men" at Oxford,
"Here's to the next insurrection of negroes in the West Indies." The
hatred was combined with as hearty a dislike for American independence.
"How is it," he said, "that we always hear the loudest yelps for liberty
amongst the drivers of negroes?" The harmony of the evening was
unluckily spoilt by an explosion of this prejudice. Boswell undertook
the defence of the colonists, and the discussion became so fierce that
though Johnson had expressed a willingness to sit up all night with him,
they were glad to part after an hour or two, and go to bed.