children. "How," says he, "is an army governed? Such
people, for the most part, multiply prohibitions till obedience becomes
impossible, and authority appears absurd, and never suspect that they
tease their family, their friends, and themselves, only because
conversation runs low, and something must be said."

Of parental authority, indeed, few people thought with a lower degree of
estimation. I one day mentioned the resignation of Cyrus to his father's
will, as related by Xenophon, when, after all his conquests, he requested
the consent of Cambyses to his marriage with a neighbouring princess, and
I added Rollin's applause and recommendation of the example. "Do you not
perceive, then," says Johnson, "that Xenophon on this occasion commends
like a pedant, and Pere Rollin applauds like a slave? If Cyrus by his
conquests had not purchased emancipation, he had conquered to little
purpose indeed. Can you forbear to see the folly of a fellow who has in
his care the lives of thousands, when he begs his papa permission to be
married, and confesses his inability to decide in a matter which concerns
no man's happiness but his own?" Mr. Johnson caught me another time
reprimanding the daughter of my housekeeper for having sat down
unpermitted in her mother's presence. "Why, she gets her living, does
she not," said he, "without her mother's help? Let the wench alone,"
continued he. And when we were again out of the women's sight who were
concerned in the dispute: "Poor people's children, dear lady," said he,
"never respect them. I did not respect my own mother, though I loved
her. And one day, when in anger she called me a puppy, I asked her if
she knew what they called a puppy's mother." We were talking of a young
fellow who used to come often to the house; he was about fifteen years
old, or less, if I remember right, and had a manner at once sullen and
sheepish. "That lad," says Mr. Johnson, "looks like the son of a
schoolmaster, which," added he, "is one of the very worst conditions of
childhood. Such a boy has no father, or worse than none; he never can
reflect on his parent but the reflection brings to his mind some idea of
pain inflicted, or of sorrow suffered."

I will relate one thing more that Dr. Johnson said about babyhood before
I quit the subject; it was this: "That little people should be encouraged
always to tell whatever they hear particularly striking to some brother,
sister, or servant immediately,