appearance, while all within was weakness and distress. Like a reduced
garrison that has some spirit left, I hung out flags, and planted all
the force I could muster, upon the walls. I am now much better, and I
sincerely thank you for your kind attention and friendly counsel.

'Count Manucci[256] came here last week from travelling in Ireland. I have
shewn him what civilities I could on his own account, on yours, and on
that of Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. He has had a fall from his horse, and been
much hurt. I regret this unlucky accident, for he seems to be a very
amiable man.'

As the evidence of what I have mentioned at the beginning of this year,
I select from his private register the following passage:

'July 25, 1776. O GOD, who hast ordained that whatever is to be desired
should be sought by labour, and who, by thy blessing, bringest honest
labour to good effect, look with mercy upon my studies and endeavours.
Grant me, O LORD, to design only what is lawful and right; and afford me
calmness of mind, and steadiness of purpose, that I may so do thy will
in this short life, as to obtain happiness in the world to come, for the
sake of JESUS CHRIST our Lord. Amen.[257]

It appears from a note subjoined, that this was composed when he
'purposed to apply vigorously to study, particularly of the Greek and
Italian tongues.'

Such a purpose, so expressed, at the age of sixty-seven, is admirable
and encouraging; and it must impress all the thinking part of my readers
with a consolatory confidence in habitual devotion, when they see a man
of such enlarged intellectual powers as Johnson, thus in the genuine
earnestness of secrecy, imploring the aid of that Supreme Being, 'from
whom cometh down every good and every perfect gift[258].'

'TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

'SIR,

'A young man, whose name is Paterson, offers himself this evening to the
Academy. He is the son of a man[259] for whom I have long had a kindness,
and who is now abroad in distress. I shall be glad that you will be
pleased to shew him any little countenance, or pay him any small
distinction. How much it is in your power to favour or to forward a
young man I do not know; nor do I know how much this candidate deserves
favour by his personal merit, or what hopes his proficiency may now give
of future eminence. I recommend him as the son of my friend. Your
character and station enable you to give a young man great encouragement
by very easy means. You have heard of a man who asked no other favour of
Sir Robert Walpole, than that he would bow to him at his levee.

'I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Aug. 3, 1776.'

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, August 30, 1776.

[After giving him an account of my having examined the chests of books
which he had sent to me, and which contained what may be truely called a
numerous and miscellaneous _Stall Library_, thrown together at
random:--]

'Lord Hailes was against the decree in the case of my client, the
minister;[260] not that he justified the minister, but because the
parishioner both provoked and retorted. I sent his Lordship your able
argument upon the case for his perusal. His observation upon it in a
letter to me was, "Dr. Johnson's _Suasorium_ is pleasantly[261] and
artfully composed. I suspect, however, that he has not convinced
himself; for, I believe that he is better read in ecclesiastical
history, than to imagine that a Bishop or a Presbyter has a right to
begin censure or discipline _è cathedrá[262]_."

'For the honour of Count Manucci, as well as to observe that exactness
of truth which you have taught me, I must correct what I said in a
former letter. He did not fall from his horse, which might have been an
imputation on his skill as an officer of cavalry; his horse fell with
him.

'I have, since I saw you, read every word of Granger's _Biographical
History_. It has entertained me exceedingly, and I do not think him the
_Whig_ that you supposed.[263] Horace Walpole's being his patron[264] is,
indeed, no good sign of his political principles. But he denied to Lord
Mountstuart that he was a Whig, and said he had been accused by both
parties of partiality. It seems he was like Pope,

"While Tories call me Whig, and Whigs a Tory[265]."

'I wish you would look more into his book; and as Lord Mountstuart
wishes much to find a proper person to continue the work upon Granger's
plan, and has desired I would mention it to you; if such a man occurs,
please to let me know. His Lordship will give him generous
encouragement.'

'TO MR. ROBERT LEVETT.

'DEAR SIR,

'Having spent about six weeks at this place, we have at length resolved
upon returning. I expect to see you all in Fleet-street on the 30th of
this month.

'I did not go into the sea till last Friday[266], but think to go most of
this week, though I know not that it does me any good. My nights are
very restless and tiresome, but I am otherwise well.

'I have written word of my coming to Mrs. Williams. Remember me kindly
to Francis and Betsy. I am, Sir,

'Your humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON[267].'

'Brighthelmstone[268], Oct. 21, 1776'

I again wrote to Dr. Johnson on the 21st of October, informing him, that
my father had, in the most liberal manner, paid a large debt for me[269],
and that I had now the happiness of being upon very good terms with him;
to which he returned the following answer.

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I had great pleasure in hearing that you are at last on good terms with
your father[270]. Cultivate his kindness by all honest and manly means.
Life is but short; no time can be afforded but for the indulgence of
real sorrow, or contests upon questions seriously momentous. Let us not
throw away any of our days upon useless resentment, or contend who shall
hold out longest in stubborn malignity. It is best not to be angry; and
best, in the next place, to be quickly reconciled. May you and your
father pass the remainder of your time in reciprocal benevolence!

'Do you ever hear from Mr. Langton? I visit him sometimes, but he does
not talk. I do not like his scheme of life[271]; but as I am not permitted
to understand it, I cannot set any thing right that is wrong. His
children are sweet babies.

'I hope my irreconcileable enemy, Mrs. Boswell, is well. Desire her not
to transmit her malevolence to the young people. Let me have Alexander,
and Veronica, and Euphemia, for my friends.

'Mrs. Williams, whom you may reckon as one of your well-wishers, is in a
feeble and languishing state, with little hope of growing better. She
went for some part of the autumn into the country, but is little
benefited; and Dr. Lawrence confesses that his art is at an end. Death
is, however, at a distance; and what more than that can we say of
ourselves? I am sorry for her pain, and more sorry for her decay. Mr.
Levett is sound, wind and limb.

'I was some weeks this autumn at Brighthelmstone. The place was very
dull, and I was not well; the expedition to the Hebrides was the most
pleasant journey that I ever made[272]. Such an effort annually would give
the world a little diversification.

'Every year, however, we cannot wander, and must therefore endeavour to
spend our time at home as well as we can. I believe it is best to throw
life into a method, that every hour may bring its employment, and every
employment have its hour. Xenophon observes, in his _Treatise of
Oeconomy_[273], that if every thing be kept in a certain place, when any
thing is worn out or consumed, the vacuity which it leaves will shew
what is wanting; so if every part of time has its duty, the hour will
call into remembrance its proper engagement.

'I have not practised all this prudence myself, but I have suffered much
for want of it; and I would have you, by timely recollection and steady
resolution, escape from those evils which have lain heavy upon me[274]. I
am, my dearest Boswell,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Bolt-court, Nov. 16, 1776.'

On the 16th of November I informed him that Mr. Strahan had sent me
_twelve_ copies of the _Journey to the Western Islands_, handsomely
bound, instead of the _twenty_ copies which were stipulated[275]; but
which, I supposed, were to be only in sheets; requested to know how they
should be distributed: and mentioned that I had another son born to me,
who was named David, and was a sickly infant.

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I have been for some time ill of a cold, which, perhaps, I made an
excuse to myself for not writing, when in reality I knew not what to
say.

'The books you must at last distribute as you think best, in my name, or
your own, as you are inclined, or as you judge most proper. Every body
cannot be obliged; but I wish that nobody may be offended. Do the best
you can.

'I congratulate you on the increase of your family, and hope that little
David is by this time well, and his mamma perfectly recovered. I am much
pleased to hear of the re-establishment of kindness between you and your
father. Cultivate his paternal tenderness as much as you can. To live at
variance at all is uncomfortable; and variance with a father is still
more uncomfortable. Besides that, in the whole dispute you have the
wrong side; at least you gave the first provocations, and some of them
very offensive[276]. Let it now be all over. As you have no reason to
think that your new mother has shewn you any foul play, treat her with
respect, and with some degree of confidence; this will secure your
father. When once a discordant family has felt the pleasure of peace,
they will not willingly lose it. If Mrs. Boswell would but be friends
with me, we might now shut the temple of Janus.

'What came of Dr. Memis's cause[277]? Is the question about the negro
determined[278]? Has Sir Allan any reasonable hopes[279]? What is become of
poor Macquarry[280]? Let me know the event of all these litigations. I
wish particularly well to the negro and Sir Allan.

'Mrs. Williams has been much out of order; and though she is something
better, is likely, in her physician's opinion, to endure her malady for
life, though she may, perhaps, die of some other. Mrs. Thrale is big,
and fancies that she carries a boy; if it were very reasonable to wish
much about it, I should wish her not to be disappointed. The desire of
male heirs is not appendant only to feudal tenures. A son is almost
necessary to the continuance of Thrale's fortune; for what can misses do
with a brewhouse? Lands are fitter for daughters than trades[281].

'Baretti went away from Thrale's in some whimsical fit of disgust, or
ill-nature, without taking any leave[282]. It is well if he finds in any
other place as good an habitation, and as many conveniencies. He has got
five-and-twenty guineas by translating Sir Joshua's _Discourses_ into
Italian, and Mr. Thrale gave him an hundred in the spring[283]; so that he
is yet in no difficulties.

'Colman has bought Foote's patent, and is to allow Foote for life
sixteen hundred pounds a year, as Reynolds told me, and to allow him to
play so often on such terms that he may gain four hundred pounds
more[284]. What Colman can get by this bargain, but trouble and hazard, I
do not see. I am, dear Sir,

'Your humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Dec. 21, 1776.'

The Reverend Dr. Hugh Blair, who had long been admired as a preacher at
Edinburgh, thought now of diffusing his excellent sermons more
extensively, and encreasing his reputation, by publishing a collection
of them. He transmitted the manuscript to Mr. Strahan, the printer, who
after keeping it for some time, wrote a letter to him, discouraging the
publication[285]. Such at first was the unpropitious state of one of the
most successful theological books that has ever appeared. Mr. Strahan,
however, had sent one of the sermons to Dr. Johnson for his opinion; and
after his unfavourable letter to Dr. Blair had been sent off, he
received from Johnson on Christmas-eve, a note in which was the
following paragraph:

'I have read over Dr. Blair's first sermon with more than approbation;
to say it is good, is to say too little[286].'

I believe Mr. Strahan had very soon after this time a conversation with
Dr. Johnson concerning them; and then he very candidly wrote again to
Dr. Blair, enclosing Johnson's note, and agreeing to purchase the
volume, for which he and Mr. Cadell gave one hundred pounds. The sale
was so rapid and extensive, and the approbation of the publick so high,
that to their honour be it recorded, the proprietors made Dr. Blair a
present first of one sum, and afterwards of another, of fifty pounds,
thus voluntarily doubling the stipulated price; and when he prepared
another volume, they gave him at once three hundred pounds, being in all
five hundred pounds, by an agreement to which I am a subscribing
witness; and now for a third octavo volume he has received no less than
six hundred pounds.

1777: ÆTAT. 68.--In 1777, it appears from his _Prayers and Meditations_,
that Johnson suffered much from a state of mind 'unsettled and
perplexed[287],' and from that constitutional gloom, which, together with
his extreme humility and anxiety with regard to his religious state,
made him contemplate himself through too dark and unfavourable a medium.
It may be said of him, that he 'saw GOD in clouds[288].' Certain we may be
of his injustice to himself in the following lamentable paragraph, which
it is painful to think came from the contrite heart of this great man,
to whose labours the world is so much indebted:

'When I survey my past life, I discover nothing but a barren waste of
time, with some disorders of body, and disturbances of the mind, very
near to madness,[289] which I hope He that made me will suffer to
extenuate many faults, and excuse many deficiencies[290].'

But we find his devotions in this year eminently fervent; and we are
comforted by observing intervals of quiet, composure, and gladness.

On Easter-day we find the following emphatick prayer:

'Almighty and most merciful Father, who seest all our miseries, and
knowest all our necessities, look down upon me, and pity me. Defend me
from the violent incursion [incursions] of evil thoughts, and enable me
to form and keep such resolutions as may conduce to the discharge of the
duties which thy providence shall appoint me; and so help me, by thy
Holy Spirit, that my heart may surely there be fixed, where true joys
are to be found, and that I may serve thee with pure affection and a
cheerful mind. Have mercy upon me, O GOD, have mercy upon me; years and
infirmities oppress me, terrour and anxiety beset me. Have mercy upon
me, my Creator and my Judge. [In all dangers protect me.] In all
perplexities relieve and free me; and so help me by thy Holy Spirit,
that I may now so commemorate the death of thy Son our Saviour JESUS
CHRIST, as that when this short and painful life shall have an end, I
may, for his sake, be received to everlasting happiness. Amen[291].'

While he was at church, the agreeable impressions upon his mind are thus
commemorated:

'I was for some time distressed, but at last obtained, I hope from the
GOD of Peace, more quiet than I have enjoyed for a long time. I had made
no resolution, but as my heart grew lighter, my hopes revived, and my
courage increased; and I wrote with my pencil in my Common Prayer Book,

"Vita ordinanda.
Biblia legenda.
Theologiae opera danda.
Serviendum et lætandum[292]."'

Mr. Steevens whose generosity is well known, joined Dr. Johnson in kind
assistance to a female relation of Dr. Goldsmith, and desired that on
her return to Ireland she would procure authentick particulars of the
life of her celebrated relation[293]. Concerning her there is the
following letter:--

'To GEORGE STEEVENS, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'You will be glad to hear that from Mrs. Goldsmith, whom we lamented as
drowned, I have received a letter full of gratitude to us all, with
promise to make the enquiries which we recommended to her.

'I would have had the honour of conveying this intelligence to Miss
Caulfield, but that her letter is not at hand, and I know not the
direction. You will tell the good news.

'I am, Sir,

'Your most, &c.

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'February 25, 1777.'

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, Feb. 14, 1777.

'My Dear Sir,

'My state of epistolary accounts with you at present is extraordinary.
The balance, as to number, is on your side. I am indebted to you for two
letters; one dated the 16th of November, upon which very day I wrote to
you, so that our letters were exactly exchanged, and one dated the 21st
of December last.

'My heart was warmed with gratitude by the truely kind contents of both
of them; and it is amazing and vexing that I have allowed so much time
to elapse without writing to you. But delay is inherent in me, by nature
or by bad habit. I waited till I should have an opportunity of paying
you my compliments on a new year. I have procrastinated till the year is
no longer new.

'Dr. Memis's cause was determined against him, with £40 costs. The Lord
President, and two other of the Judges, dissented from the majority,
upon this ground;--that although there may have been no intention to
injure him by calling him _Doctor of Medicine_, instead of _Physician_,
yet, as he remonstrated against the designation before the charter was
printed off, and represented that it was disagreeable, and even hurtful
to him, it was ill-natured to refuse to alter it, and let him have the
designation to which he was certainly entitled. My own opinion is, that
our court has judged wrong. The defendants were _in malâ fide_, to
persist in naming him in a way that he disliked. You remember poor
Goldsmith, when he grew important, and wished to appear _Doctor Major_
[294], could not bear your calling him _Goldy_[295]. Would it not have
been wrong to have named him so in your _Preface to Shakspeare_, or in
any serious permanent writing of any sort? The difficulty is, whether an
action should be allowed on such petty wrongs. _De minimis non curat
lex_.

'The Negro cause is not yet decided. A memorial is preparing on the side
of slavery. I shall send you a copy as soon as it is printed. Maclaurin
is made happy by your approbation of his memorial for the black.

'Macquarry was here in the winter, and we passed an evening together.
The sale of his estate cannot be prevented.

'Sir Allan Maclean's suit against the Duke of Argyle, for recovering the
ancient inheritance of his family, is now fairly before all our judges.
I spoke for him yesterday, and Maclaurin to-day; Crosbie spoke to-day
against him. Three more counsel are to be heard, and next week the cause
will be determined. I send you the _Informations_, or _Cases_, on each
side, which I hope you will read. You said to me when we were under Sir
Allan's hospitable roof, "I will help him with my pen." You said it with
a generous glow; and though his Grace of Argyle did afterwards mount you
upon an excellent horse, upon which "you looked like a Bishop[296]," you
must not swerve from your purpose at Inchkenneth. I wish you may
understand the points at issue, amidst our Scotch law principles and
phrases.

[Here followed a full state of the case, in which I endeavoured to make
it as clear as I could to an Englishman, who had no knowledge of the
formularies and technical language of the law of Scotland.]

'I shall inform you how the cause is decided here. But as it may be
brought under the review of our Judges, and is certainly to be carried
by appeal to the House of Lords, the assistance of such a mind as yours
will be of consequence. Your paper on _Vicious Intromission_[297] is a
noble proof of what you can do even in Scotch law.

'I have not yet distributed all your books. Lord Hailes and Lord
Monboddo have each received one, and return you thanks. Monboddo dined
with me lately, and having drank tea, we were a good while by ourselves,
and as I knew that he had read the _Journey_ superficially, as he did
not talk of it as I wished, I brought it to him, and read aloud several
passages; and then he talked so, that I told him he was to have a copy
_from the authour_. He begged _that_ might be marked on it.

'I ever am, my dear Sir,

'Your most faithful,

'And affectionate humble servant,

'JAMES BOSWELL.'

'SIR ALEXANDER DICK TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

'Prestonfield, Feb. 17, 1777.

'Sir,

'I had yesterday the honour of receiving your book of your _Journey to
the Western Islands of Scotland_, which you was so good as to send me,
by the hands of our mutual friend[298], Mr. Boswell, of Auchinleck; for
which I return you my most hearty thanks; and after carefully reading it
over again, shall deposit in my little collection of choice books, next
our worthy friend's _Journey to Corsica_. As there are many things to
admire in both performances, I have often wished that no Travels or
Journeys should be published but those undertaken by persons of
integrity and capacity to judge well, and describe faithfully, and in
good language, the situation, condition, and manners of the countries
past through. Indeed our country of Scotland, in spite of the union of
the crowns, is still in most places so devoid of clothing, or cover from
hedges and plantations, that it was well you gave your readers a sound
_Monitoire_ with respect to that circumstance. The truths you have told,
and the purity of the language in which they are expressed, as your
_Journey_ is universally read, may, and already appear to have a very
good effect. For a man of my acquaintance, who has the largest nursery
for trees and hedges in this country, tells me, that of late the demand
upon him for these articles is doubled, and sometimes tripled. I have,
therefore, listed Dr. Samuel Johnson in some of my memorandums of the
principal planters and favourers of the enclosures, under a name which I
took the liberty to invent from the Greek, _Papadendrion_[299]. Lord
Auchinleck and some few more are of the list. I am told that one
gentleman in the shire of Aberdeen, _viz_. Sir Archibald Grant, has
planted above fifty millions of trees on a piece of very wild ground at
Monimusk: I must enquire if he has fenced them well, before he enters my
list; for, that is the soul of enclosing. I began myself to plant a
little, our ground being too valuable for much, and that is now fifty
years ago; and the trees, now in my seventy-fourth year, I look up to
with reverence, and shew them to my eldest son now in his fifteenth
year, and they are full the height of my country-house here, where I had
the pleasure of receiving you, and hope again to have that satisfaction
with our mutual friend, Mr. Boswell. I shall always continue, with the
truest esteem, dear Doctor,

'Your much obliged,

'And obedient humble servant,

'ALEXANDER DICK[300].'

'To JAMES BOSWELL, Esq.

'DEAR SIR,

'It is so long since I heard any thing from you[301], that I am not easy
about it; write something to me next post. When you sent your last
letter, every thing seemed to be mending; I hope nothing has lately
grown worse. I suppose young Alexander continues to thrive, and Veronica
is now very pretty company. I do not suppose the lady is yet reconciled
to me, yet let her know that I love her very well, and value her very
much.

'Dr. Blair is printing some sermons. If they are all like the first,
which I have read, they are _sermones aurei, ac auro magis aurei_. It is
excellently written both as to doctrine and language. Mr. Watson's
book[302] seems to be much esteemed.

'Poor Beauclerk still continues very ill[303]. Langton lives on as he used
to do[304]. His children are very pretty, and, I think, his lady loses her
Scotch. Paoli I never see.

'I have been so distressed by difficulty of breathing, that I lost, as
was computed, six-and-thirty ounces of blood in a few days[305]. I am
better, but not well.

'I wish you would be vigilant and get me Graham's _Telemachus_[306] that
was printed at Glasgow, a very little book; and _Johnstoni Poemata_[307],
another little book, printed at Middleburgh.

'Mrs. Williams sends her compliments, and promises that when you come
hither, she will accommodate you as well as ever she can in the old
room[308]. She wishes to know whether you sent her book[309] to Sir
Alexander Gordon[310].

'My dear Boswell, do not neglect to write to me; for your kindness is
one of the pleasures of my life, which I should be sorry to lose.

'I am, Sir,

'Your humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'February 18, 1777.'

'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, Feb. 24, 1777.

'DEAR SIR,

'Your letter dated the 18th instant, I had the pleasure to receive last
post. Although my late long neglect, or rather delay, was truely
culpable, I am tempted not to regret it, since it has produced me so
valuable a proof of your regard. I did, indeed, during that inexcusable
silence, sometimes divert the reproaches of my own mind, by fancying
that I should hear again from you, inquiring with some anxiety about me,
because, for aught you knew, I might have been ill.

'You are pleased to shew me, that my kindness is of some consequence to
you. My heart is elated at the thought. Be assured, my dear Sir, that my
affection and reverence for you are exalted and steady. I do not believe
that a more perfect attachment ever existed in the history of mankind.
And it is a noble attachment; for the attractions are Genius, Learning,
and Piety.

'Your difficulty of breathing alarms me, and brings into my imagination
an event, which although in the natural course of things, I must expect
at some period, I cannot view with composure.

'My wife is much honoured by what you say of her. She begs you may
accept of her best compliments. She is to send you some marmalade of
oranges of her own making.

'I ever am, my dear Sir,

'Your most obliged

'And faithful humble servant,

'JAMES BOSWELL.'

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I have been much pleased with your late letter, and am glad that my old
enemy Mrs. Boswell, begins to feel some remorse. As to Miss Veronica's
Scotch, I think it cannot be helped. An English maid you might easily
have; but she would still imitate the greater number, as they would be
likewise those whom she must most respect. Her dialect will not be
gross. Her Mamma has not much Scotch, and you have yourself very little.
I hope she knows my name, and does not call me _Johnston_[311].

'The immediate cause of my writing is this:--One Shaw[312], who seems a
modest and a decent man, has written an _Erse Grammar_, which a very
learned Highlander, Macbean[313], has, at my request, examined and
approved.

'The book is very little, but Mr. Shaw has been persuaded by his friends
to set it at half a guinea, though I advised only a crown, and thought
myself liberal. You, whom the authour considers as a great encourager of
ingenious men, will receive a parcel of his proposals and receipts. I
have undertaken to give you notice of them, and to solicit your
countenance. You must ask no poor man, because the price is really too
high. Yet such a work deserves patronage.

'It is proposed to augment our club from twenty to thirty, of which I am
glad; for as we have several in it whom I do not much like to consort
with[314], I am for reducing it to a mere miscellaneous collection of
conspicuous men, without any determinate character.

'I am, dear Sir,

'Most affectionately your's,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'March 11, 1777.'

'My respects to Madam, to Veronica, to Alexander, to Euphemia, to
David.'

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, April 4, 1777.

[After informing him of the death of my little son David, and that I
could not come to London this spring:--]

'I think it hard that I should be a whole year without seeing you. May I
presume to petition for a meeting with you in the autumn? You have, I
believe, seen all the cathedrals in England, except that of Carlisle. If
you are to be with Dr. Taylor, at Ashbourne, it would not be a great
journey to come thither. We may pass a few most agreeable days there by
ourselves, and I will accompany you a good part of the way to the
southward again. Pray think of this.

'You forget that Mr. Shaw's _Erse Grammar_ was put into your hands by
myself last year. Lord Eglintoune put it into mine. I am glad that Mr.
Macbean approves of it. I have received Mr. Shaw's Proposals for its
publication, which I can perceive are written _by the hand of a_ MASTER.

'Pray get for me all the editions of _Walton's Lives_: I have a notion
that the republication of them with Notes will fall upon me, between Dr.
Home and Lord Hailes[315].'

Mr. Shaw's Proposals[dagger] for _An Analysis of the Scotch Celtick
Language_, were thus illuminated by the pen of Johnson:

'Though the Erse dialect of the Celtick language has, from the earliest
times, been spoken in Britain, and still subsists in the northern parts
and adjacent islands, yet, by the negligence of a people rather warlike
than lettered, it has hitherto been left to the caprice and judgement of
every speaker, and has floated in the living voice, without the
steadiness of analogy, or direction of rules. An Erse Grammar is an
addition to the stores of literature; and its authour hopes for the
indulgence always shewn to those that attempt to do what was never done
before. If his work shall be found defective, it is at least all his
own: he is not like other grammarians, a compiler or transcriber; what
he delivers, he has learned by attentive observation among his
countrymen, who perhaps will be themselves surprized to see that speech
reduced to principles, which they have used only by imitation.

'The use of this book will, however, not be confined to the mountains
and islands; it will afford a pleasing and important subject of
speculation, to those whose studies lead them to trace the affinity of
languages, and the migrations of the ancient races, of mankind.'

'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

'Glasgow, April 24, 1777.
'MY DEAR SIR,

'Our worthy friend Thrale's death having appeared in the newspapers, and
been afterwards contradicted, I have been placed in a state of very
uneasy uncertainty, from which I hoped to be relieved by you: but my
hopes have as yet been vain. How could you omit to write to me on such
an occasion? I shall wait with anxiety.

'I am going to Auchinleck to stay a fortnight with my father. It is
better not to be there very long at one time. But frequent renewals of
attention are agreeable to him.

'Pray tell me about this edition of "_The English Poets_, with a
Preface, biographical and critical, to each Authour, by Samuel Johnson,
LL.D." which I see advertised. I am delighted with the prospect of it.
Indeed I am happy to feel that I am capable of being so much delighted
with literature.[316] But is not the charm of this publication chiefly
owing to the _magnum nomen_ in the front of it?

'What do you say of Lord Chesterfield's _Memoirs and last Letters_?[317]

'My wife has made marmalade of oranges for you. I left her and my
daughters and Alexander all well yesterday. I have taught Veronica to
speak of you thus;--Dr. John_son_, not Jon_ston_.

'I remain, my dear Sir,
'Your most affectionate,
'And obliged humble servant,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,

'The story of Mr. Thrale's death, as he had neither been sick nor in any
other danger, made so little impression upon me, that I never thought
about obviating its effects on any body else. It is supposed to have
been produced by the English custom of making April fools, that is, of
sending one another on some foolish errand on the first of April.

'Tell Mrs. Boswell that I shall taste her marmalade cautiously at first.
_Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes_.[318] Beware, says the Italian proverb, of
a reconciled enemy. But when I find it does me no harm, I shall then
receive it and be thankful for it, as a pledge of firm, and, I hope, of
unalterable kindness. She is, after all, a dear, dear lady.

'Please to return Dr. Blair thanks for his sermons. The Scotch write
English wonderfully well.

'Your frequent visits to Auchinleck, and your short stay there, are very
laudable and very judicious. Your present concord with your father gives
me great pleasure; it was all that you seemed to want.

'My health is very bad, and my nights are very unquiet.[319] What can I do
to mend them? I have for this summer nothing better in prospect than a
journey into Staffordshire and Derbyshire, perhaps with Oxford and
Birmingham in my way.

'Make my compliments to Miss Veronica; I must leave it to _her_
philosophy to comfort you for the loss of little David. You must
remember, that to keep three out of four is more than your share. Mrs.
Thrale has but four out of eleven.[320]

'I am engaged to write little Lives, and little Prefaces, to a little
edition of _The English Poets_. I think I have persuaded the
book-sellers to insert something of Thomson; and if you could give me
some information about him, for the life which we have is very scanty, I
should be glad. I am, dear Sir,

'Your most affectionate humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'May 3, 1777.'

To those who delight in tracing the progress of works of literature, it
will be an entertainment to compare the limited design with the ample
execution of that admirable performance, _The Lives of the English
Poets_, which is the richest, most beautiful and indeed most perfect
production of Johnson's pen. His notion of it at this time appears in
the preceding letter. He has a memorandum in this year, '29 May[321],
Easter Eve, I treated with booksellers on a bargain, but the time was
not long[322].' The bargain was concerning that undertaking; but his
tender conscience seems alarmed lest it should have intruded too much on
his devout preparation for the solemnity of the ensuing day. But,
indeed, very little time was necessary for Johnson's concluding a treaty
with the booksellers; as he had, I believe, less attention to profit
from his labours than any man to whom literature has been a
profession.[323] I shall here insert from a letter to me from my late
worthy friend Mr. Edward Dilly, though of a later date, an account of
this plan so happily conceived; since it was the occasion of procuring
for us an elegant collection of the best biography and criticism of
which our language can boast.

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'Southill, Sept. 26, 1777.

'DEAR SIR,

'You will find by this letter, that I am still in the same calm retreat,
from the noise and bustle of London, as when I wrote to you last. I am
happy to find you had such an agreeable meeting with your old friend Dr.
Johnson; I have no doubt your stock is much increased by the interview;
few men, nay I may say, scarcely any man, has got that fund of knowledge
and entertainment as Dr. Johnson in conversation. When he opens freely,
every one is attentive to what he says, and cannot fail of improvement
as well as pleasure.

'The edition of _The Poets_, now printing, will do honour to the English
press; and a concise account of the life of each authour, by Dr.
Johnson, will be a very valuable addition, and stamp the reputation of
this edition superiour to any thing that is gone before. The first cause
that gave rise to this undertaking, I believe, was owing to the little
trifling edition of _The Poets_, printing by the Martins, at Edinburgh,
and to be sold by Bell, in London. Upon examining the volumes which were
printed, the type was found so extremely small, that many persons could
not read them; not only this inconvenience attended it, but the
inaccuracy of the press was very conspicuous. These reasons, as well as
the idea of an invasion of what we call our Literary Property[324],
induced the London Booksellers to print an elegant and accurate edition
of all the English Poets of reputation, from Chaucer to the present
time.

'Accordingly a select number of the most respectable booksellers met on
the occasion; and, on consulting together, agreed, that all the
proprietors of copy-right in the various Poets should be summoned
together; and when their opinions were given, to proceed immediately on
the business. Accordingly a meeting was held, consisting of about forty
of the most respectable booksellers of London, when it was agreed that
an elegant and uniform edition of _The English Poets_ should be
immediately printed, with a concise account of the life of each authour,
by Dr. Samuel Johnson; and that three persons should be deputed to wait
upon Dr. Johnson, to solicit him to undertake the Lives, _viz_., T.
Davies, Strahan, and Cadell. The Doctor very politely undertook it, and
seemed exceedingly pleased with the proposal. As to the terms, it was
left entirely to the Doctor to name his own: he mentioned two hundred
guineas[325]: it was immediately agreed to; and a farther compliment, I
believe, will be made him.[326] A committee was likewise appointed to
engage the best engravers, _viz_., Bartolozzi, Sherwin, Hall, etc.
Likewise another committee for giving directions about the paper,
printing, etc., so that the whole will be conducted with spirit, and in
the best manner, with respect to authourship, editorship, engravings,
etc., etc. My brother will give you a list of the Poets we mean to give,
many of which are within the time of the Act of Queen Anne[327], which
Martin and Bell cannot give, as they have no property in them; the
proprietors are almost all the booksellers in London, of consequence. I
am, dear Sir,

'Ever your's,
'EDWARD DILLY.'

I shall afterwards have occasion to consider the extensive and varied
range which Johnson took, when he was once led upon ground which he trod
with a peculiar delight, having long been intimately acquainted with all
the circumstances of it that could interest and please.

'DR. JOHNSON TO CHARLES O'CONNOR, Esq.[328]

'SIR,

'Having had the pleasure of conversing with Dr. Campbell about your
character and your literary undertaking, I am resolved to gratify myself
by renewing a correspondence which began and ended a great while ago,
and ended, I am afraid, by my fault; a fault which, if you have not
forgotten it, you must now forgive.

'If I have ever disappointed you, give me leave to tell you, that you
have likewise disappointed me. I expected great discoveries in Irish
antiquity, and large publications in the Irish language; but the world
still remains at it was, doubtful and ignorant. What the Irish language
is in itself, and to what languages it has affinity, are very
interesting questions, which every man wishes to see resolved that has
any philological or historical curiosity. Dr. Leland begins his history
too late: the ages which deserve an exact enquiry are those times
(for[329] such there were) when Ireland was the school of the west, the
quiet habitation of sanctity and literature. If you could give a
history, though imperfect, of the Irish nation, from its conversion to
Christianity to the invasion from England, you would amplify knowledge
with new views and new objects. Set about it therefore, if you can: do
what you can easily do without anxious exactness. Lay the foundation,
and leave the superstructure to posterity. I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'May 19, 1777.'

Early in this year came out, in two volumes quarto, the posthumous works
of the learned Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester; being _A
Commentary, with Notes, on the four Evangelists and the Acts of the
Apostles_, with other theological pieces. Johnson had now an opportunity
of making a grateful return to that excellent prelate, who, we have
seen[330], was the only person who gave him any assistance in the
compilation of his _Dictionary_. The Bishop had left some account of his
life and character, written by himself. To this Johnson made some
valuable additions[331][dagger], and also furnished to the editor, the
Reverend Mr. Derby, a Dedication[dagger], which I shall here insert,
both because it will appear at this time with peculiar propriety; and
because it will tend to propagate and increase that 'fervour of
_Loyalty_[332],' which in me, who boast of the name of TORY, is not only a
principle, but a passion.

'To THE KING.

'SIR,

'I presume to lay before your Majesty the last labours of a learned
Bishop, who died in the toils and duties of his calling[333]. He is now
beyond the reach of all earthly honours and rewards; and only the hope
of inciting others to imitate him, makes it now fit to be remembered,
that he enjoyed in his life the favour of your Majesty.

'The tumultuary life of Princes seldom permits them to survey the wide
extent of national interest, without losing sight of private merit; to
exhibit qualities which may be imitated by the highest and the humblest
of mankind; and to be at once amiable and great.

'Such characters, if now and then they appear in history, are
contemplated with admiration. May it be the ambition of all your
subjects to make haste with their tribute of reverence: and as posterity
may learn from your Majesty how Kings should live, may they learn,
likewise, from your people, how they should be honoured. I am,

'May it please your Majesty,
With the most profound respect,
Your Majesty's
Most dutiful and devoted
Subject and Servant.'

In the summer he wrote a Prologue[*] which was spoken before _A Word to
the Wise_, a comedy by Mr. Hugh Kelly[334], which had been brought upon
the stage in 1770; but he being a writer for ministry, in one of the
news-papers, it fell a sacrifice to popular fury, and in the playhouse
phrase, was _damned_. By the generosity of Mr. Harris, the proprietor of
Covent Garden theatre, it was now exhibited for one night, for the
benefit of the authour's widow and children. To conciliate the favour of
the audience was the intention of Johnson's Prologue, which, as it is
not long, I shall here insert, as a proof that his poetical talents were
in no degree impaired.

'This night presents a play, which publick rage,
Or right or wrong, once hooted from the stage:
From zeal or malice, now no more we dread,
For English vengeance _wars not with the dead_.
A generous foe regards with pitying eye
The man whom Fate has laid where all must lie.
To wit, reviving from its authour's dust,
Be kind, ye judges, or at least be just:
Let no renewed hostilities invade
Th' oblivious grave's inviolable shade.
Let one great payment every claim appease,
And him who cannot hurt, allow to please;
To please by scenes, unconscious of offence,
By harmless merriment, or useful sense.
Where aught of bright or fair the piece displays,
Approve it only;--'tis too late to praise.
If want of skill or want of care appear,
Forbear to hiss;--the poet cannot hear.
By all, like him, must praise and blame be found,
At last, a fleeting gleam, or empty sound;
Yet then shall calm reflection bless the night,
When liberal pity dignified delight;
When pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's flame,
And mirth was bounty with an humbler name.'[335]

A circumstance which could not fail to be very pleasing to Johnson
occurred this year. The Tragedy of _Sir Thomas Overbury_, written by his
early companion in London, Richard Savage[336] was brought out with
alterations at Drury-lane theatre[337]. The Prologue to it was written by
Mr. Richard Brinsley Sheridan; in which, after describing very
pathetically the wretchedness of

'Ill-fated Savage, at whose birth was giv'n
No parent but the Muse, no friend but Heav'n:'

he introduced an elegant compliment to Johnson on his _Dictionary_, that
wonderful performance which cannot be too often or too highly praised;
of which Mr. Harris, in his _Philological Inquiries_[338], justly and
liberally observes: 'Such is its merit, that our language does not
possess a more copious, learned, and valuable work.' The concluding,
lines of this Prologue were these:--

'So pleads the tale that gives to future times
The son's misfortunes and the parent's crimes;
There shall his fame (if own'd to-night) survive,
Fix'd by THE HAND THAT BIDS OUR LANGUAGE LIVE[339].'

Mr. Sheridan here at once did honour to his taste and to his liberality
of sentiment, by shewing that he was not prejudiced from the unlucky
difference which had taken place between his worthy father and Dr.
Johnson. I have already mentioned, that Johnson was very desirous of
reconciliation with old Mr. Sheridan.[340] It will, therefore, not seem at
all surprizing that he was zealous in acknowledging the brilliant merit
of his son. While it had as yet been displayed only in the drama,
Johnson proposed him as a member of THE LITERARY CLUB, observing, that
'He who has written the two best comedies of his age, is surely a
considerable man[341].' And he had, accordingly, the honour to be elected;
for an honour it undoubtedly must be allowed to be, when it is
considered of whom that society consists, and that a single black ball
excludes a candidate.

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

'July 9, 1777.[342]

'MY DEAR SIR,

'For the health of my wife and children I have taken the little
country-house at which you visited my uncle, Dr. Boswell[343], who, having
lost his wife, is gone to live with his son. We took possession of our
villa about a week ago; we have a garden of three quarters of an acre,
well stocked with fruit-trees and flowers, and gooseberries and
currants, and peas and beans, and cabbages, &c. &c., and my children are
quite happy. I now write to you in a little study, from the window of
which I see around me a verdant grove, and beyond it the lofty mountain
called Arthur's Seat.

'Your last letter, in which you desire me to send you some additional
information concerning Thomson, reached me very fortunately just as I
was going to Lanark, to put my wife's two nephews, the young Campbells,
to school there, under the care of Mr. Thomson, the master of it, whose
wife is sister to the authour of _The Seasons_. She is an old woman; but
her memory is very good; and she will with pleasure give me for you
every particular that you wish to know, and she can tell. Pray then take
the trouble to send me such questions as may lead to biographical
materials. You say that the _Life_ which we have of Thomson is scanty.
Since I received your letter I have read his _Life_, published under the
name of Cibber, but as you told me, really written by a Mr. Shiels[344];
that written by Dr. Murdoch; one prefixed to an edition of the Seasons,
published at Edinburgh, which is compounded of both, with the addition
of an anecdote of Quin's relieving Thomson from prison[345]; the
abridgement of Murdoch's account of him, in the _Biographia Britannica_,
and another abridgement of it in the _Biographical Dictionary_, enriched
with Dr. Joseph Warton's critical panegyrick on the _Seasons_ in his
_Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope_: from all these it appears to
me that we have a pretty full account of this poet. However, you will, I
doubt not, shew me many blanks, and I shall do what can be done to have
them filled up. As Thomson never returned to Scotland, (which _you_ will
think very wise,) his sister can speak from her own knowledge only as to
the early part of his life. She has some letters from him, which may
probably give light as to his more advanced progress, if she will let us
see them, which I suppose she will[346]. I believe George Lewis Scott[347]
and Dr. Armstrong[348] are now his only surviving companions, while he
lived in and about London; and they, I dare say, can tell more of him
than is yet known. My own notion is, that Thomson was a much coarser man
than his friends are willing to acknowledge[349]. His _Seasons_ are indeed
full of elegant and pious sentiments: but a rank soil, nay a dunghill,
will produce beautiful flowers[350].

'Your edition of _The English Poets_[351] will be very valuable, on
account of the _Prefaces_ and _Lives_. But I have seen a specimen of an
edition of _The Poets_ at the Apollo press, at Edinburgh, which, for
excellence in printing and engraving, highly deserves a liberal
encouragement.

'Most sincerely do I regret the bad health and bad rest with which you
have been afflicted; and I hope you are better. I cannot believe that
the Prologue which you generously gave to Mr. Kelly's widow and children
the other day, is the effusion of one in sickness and in disquietude:
but external circumstances are never sure indications of the state of
man. I send you a letter which I wrote to you two years ago at
Wilton[352]; and did not send it at the time, for fear of being reproved
as indulging too much tenderness; and one written to you at the tomb of
Melancthon[353], which I kept back, lest I should appear at once too
superstitious and too enthusiastick. I now imagine that perhaps they may
please you.

'You do not take the least notice of my proposal for our meeting at
Carlisle[354]. Though I have meritoriously refrained from visiting London
this year, I ask you if it would not be wrong that I should be two years
without having the benefit of your conversation, when, if you come down
as far as Derbyshire, we may meet at the expence of a few days'
journeying, and not many pounds. I wish you to see Carlisle, which made
me mention that place. But if you have not a desire to complete your
tour of the English cathedrals, I will take a larger share of the road
between this place and Ashbourne. So tell me _where_ you will fix for
our passing a few days by ourselves. Now don't cry "foolish fellow," or
"idle dog." Chain your humour, and let your kindness play.

'You will rejoice to hear that Miss Macleod, of Rasay[355], is married to
Colonel Mure Campbell, an excellent man, with a pretty good estate of
his own, and the prospect of having the Earl of Loudoun's fortune and
honours. Is not this a noble lot for our fair Hebridean? How happy am I
that she is to be in Ayrshire. We shall have the Laird of Rasay, and old
Malcolm, and I know not how many gallant Macleods, and bagpipes, &c. &c.
at Auchinleck. Perhaps you may meet them all there.

'Without doubt you have read what is called _The Life_ of David Hume[356],
written by himself, with the letter from Dr. Adam Smith subjoined to it.
Is not this an age of daring effrontery? My friend Mr. Anderson,
Professor of Natural Philosophy at Glasgow, at whose house you and I
supped[357], and to whose care Mr. Windham[358], of Norfolk, was entrusted
at that University, paid me a visit lately; and after we had talked with
indignation and contempt of the poisonous productions with which this
age is infested, he said there was now an excellent opportunity for Dr.
Johnson to step forth. I agreed with him that you might knock Hume's and
Smith's heads together, and make vain and ostentatious infidelity
exceedingly ridiculous. Would it not be worth your while to crush such
noxious weeds in the moral garden?

'You have said nothing to me of Dr. Dodd[359]. I know not how you think on
that subject; though the newspapers give us a saying of your's in favour
of mercy to him. But I own I am very desirous that the royal prerogative
of remission of punishment should be employed to exhibit an illustrious
instance of the regard which GOD's VICEGERENT will ever shew to piety
and virtue. If for ten righteous men the ALMIGHTY would have spared
Sodom, shall not a thousand acts of goodness done by Dr. Dodd
counterbalance one crime? Such an instance would do more to encourage
goodness, than his execution would do to deter from vice. I am not
afraid of any bad consequence to society; for who will persevere for a
long course of years in a distinguished discharge of religious duties,
with a view to commit a forgery with impunity?

'Pray make my best compliments acceptable to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, by
assuring them of my hearty joy that the _Master_[360], as you call him, is
alive. I hope I shall often taste his Champagne--_soberly_.

'I have not heard from Langton for a long time. I suppose he is as
usual,

"Studious the busy moments to deceive[361]."

'I remain, my dear Sir,

'Your most affectionate, and faithful humble servant,

'JAMES BOSWELL.'

On the 23rd of June, I again wrote to Dr. Johnson, enclosing a
ship-master's receipt for a jar of orange-marmalade, and a large packet
of Lord Hailes's _Annals of Scotland_.

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I have just received your packet from Mr. Thrale's, but have not
day-light enough to look much into it. I am glad that I have credit
enough with Lord Hailes to be trusted with more copy[362]. I hope to take
more care of it than of the last. I return Mrs. Boswell my affectionate
thanks for her present, which I value as a token of reconciliation.

'Poor Dodd was put to death yesterday, in opposition to the
recommendation of the jury[363]--the petition of the city of
London[364]--and a subsequent petition signed by three-and-twenty thousand
hands. Surely the voice of the publick, when it calls so loudly, and
calls only for mercy, ought to be heard[365].

'The saying that was given me in the papers I never spoke; but I wrote
many of his petitions, and some of his letters. He applied to me very
often. He was, I am afraid, long flattered with hopes of life; but I had
no part in the dreadful delusion; for, as soon as the King had signed
his sentence[366], I obtained from Mr. Chamier[367] an account of the
disposition of the court towards him, with a declaration that there _was
no hope even of a respite_. This letter immediately was laid before
Dodd; but he believed those whom he wished to be right, as it is
thought, till within three days of his end. He died with pious composure
and resolution. I have just seen the Ordinary that attended him. His
address to his fellow-convicts offended the Methodists[368]; but he had a
Moravian with him much of his time[369]. His moral character is very bad:
I hope all is not true that is charged upon him. Of his behaviour in
prison an account will be published.

'I give you joy of your country-house, and your pretty garden; and hope
some time to see you in your felicity. I was much pleased with your two
letters that had been kept so long in store[370]; and rejoice at Miss
Rasay's advancement, and wish Sir Allan success.

'I hope to meet you somewhere towards the north, but am loath to come
quite to Carlisle. Can we not meet at Manchester? But we will settle it
in some other letters.

'Mr. Seward[371], a great favourite at Streatham, has been, I think,
enkindled by our travels with a curiosity to see the Highlands. I have
given him letters to you and Beattie. He desires that a lodging may be
taken for him at Edinburgh, against his arrival. He is just setting out.

'Langton has been exercising the militia[372]. Mrs. Williams is, I fear,
declining. Dr. Lawrence says he can do no more. She is gone to summer in
the country, with as many conveniences about her as she can expect; but
I have no great hope. We must all die: may we all be prepared!

'I suppose Miss Boswell reads her book, and young Alexander takes to his
learning. Let me hear about them; for every thing that belongs to you,
belongs in a more remote degree, and not, I hope, very remote, to, dear
Sir,

'Yours affectionately,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'June, 28, 1777.'

TO THE SAME.

'DEAR SIR,

'This gentleman is a great favourite at Streatham, and therefore you
will easily believe that he has very valuable qualities. Our narrative
has kindled him with a desire of visiting the Highlands, after having
already seen a great part of Europe. You must receive him as a friend,
and when you have directed him to the curiosities of Edinburgh, give him
instructions and recommendations for the rest of his journey. I am, dear
Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'June 24, 1777.'

Johnson's benevolence to the unfortunate was, I am confident, as steady
and active as that of any of those who have been most eminently
distinguished for that virtue. Innumerable proofs of it I have no doubt
will be for ever concealed from mortal eyes. We may, however, form some
judgement of it, from the many and very various instances which have
been discovered. One, which happened in the course of this summer, is
remarkable from the name and connection of the person who was the object
of it. The circumstance to which I allude is ascertained by two letters,
one to Mr. Langton, and another to the Reverend Dr. Vyse, rector of
Lambeth, son of the respectable clergyman at Lichfield, who was
contemporary with Johnson, and in whose father's family Johnson had the
happiness of being kindly received in his early years.

'DR. JOHNSON TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I have lately been much disordered by a difficulty of breathing, but am
now better. I hope your house is well.

'You know we have been talking lately of St. Cross, at Winchester; I
have an old acquaintance whose distress makes him very desirous of an
hospital, and I am afraid I have not strength enough to get him into the
Chartreux. He is a painter, who never rose higher than to get his
immediate living, and from that, at eighty-three, he is disabled by a
slight stroke of the palsy, such as does not make him at all helpless on
common occasions, though his hand is not steady enough for his art.

'My request is, that you will try to obtain a promise of the next
vacancy, from the Bishop of Chester. It is not a great thing to ask, and
I hope we shall obtain it. Dr. Warton has promised to favour him with
his notice, and I hope he may end his days in peace. I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'June 29, 1777.'

'To THE REVEREND DR. VYSE, AT LAMBETH.

'SIR,

'I doubt not but you will readily forgive me for taking the liberty of
requesting your assistance in recommending an old friend to his Grace
the Archbishop, as Governour of the Charter-house.

'His name is De Groot; he was born at Gloucester; I have known him many
years. He has all the common claims to charity, being old, poor, and
infirm, in a great degree. He has likewise another claim, to which no
scholar can refuse attention; he is by several descents the nephew of
Hugo Grotius; of him, from whom perhaps every man of learning has learnt
something. Let it not be said that in any lettered country a nephew of
Grotius asked a charity and was refused.[373]

'I am, reverend Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'July 9, 1777.'

'REVEREND DR. VYSE TO MR. BOSWELL.

'Lambeth, June 9, 1787.

'SIR,

'I have searched in vain for the letter which I spoke of, and which I
wished, at your desire, to communicate to you. It was from Dr. Johnson,
to return me thanks for my application to Archbishop Cornwallis in
favour of poor De Groot. He rejoices at the success it met with, and is
lavish in the praise he bestows upon his favourite, Hugo Grotius. I am
really sorry that I cannot find this letter, as it is worthy of the
writer. That which I send you enclosed[374] is at your service. It is very
short, and will not perhaps be thought of any consequence, unless you
should judge proper to consider it as a proof of the very humane part
which Dr. Johnson took in behalf of a distressed and deserving person. I
am, Sir,

'Your most obedient humble servant,

'W. VYSE.'

'DR. JOHNSON TO MR. EDWARD DILLY[375].

'SIR,

'To the collection of _English Poets_, I have recommended the volume of
Dr. Watts to be added; his name has long been held by me in
veneration[376], and I would not willingly be reduced to tell of him only
that he was born and died. Yet of his life I know very little, and
therefore must pass him in a manner very unworthy of his character,
unless some of his friends will favour me with the necessary
information; many of them must be known to you; and by your influence,
perhaps I may obtain some instruction. My plan does not exact much; but
I wish to distinguish Watts, a man who never wrote but for a good
purpose. Be pleased to do for me what you can.

'I am, Sir, your humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Bolt-Court, Fleet-street,
July 7, 1777.'

'To DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, July 15, 1777.

'MY DEAR SIR,

'The fate of poor Dr. Dodd made a dismal impression upon my mind.

'I had sagacity enough to divine that you wrote his speech to the
Recorder, before sentence was pronounced. I am glad you have written so
much for him; and I hope to be favoured with an exact list of the
several pieces when we meet.

'I received Mr. Seward as the friend of Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, and as a
gentleman recommended by Dr. Johnson to my attention. I have introduced
him to Lord Kames, Lord Monboddo, and Mr. Nairne. He is gone to the
Highlands with Dr. Gregory; when he returns I shall do more for him.

'Sir Allan Maclean has[377] carried that branch of his cause, of which we
had good hopes: the President and one other Judge only were against him.
I wish the House of Lords may do as well as the Court of Session has
done. But Sir Allan has not the lands of _Brolos_ quite cleared by this
judgement, till a long account is made up of debts and interests on the
one side, and rents on the other. I am, however, not much afraid of the
balance.

'Macquarry's estates[378], Staffa and all, were sold yesterday, and bought
by a Campbell. I fear he will have little or nothing left out of the
purchase money.

'I send you the case against the negro[379], by Mr. Cullen, son to Dr.
Cullen, in opposition to Maclaurin's for liberty, of which you have
approved. Pray read this, and tell me what you think as a _Politician_,
as well as a _Poet_, upon the subject.

'Be so kind as to let me know how your time is to be distributed next
autumn. I will meet you at Manchester, or where you please; but I wish
you would complete your tour of the cathedrals, and come to Carlisle,
and I will accompany you a part of the way homewards.

'I am ever,

'Most faithfully yours,

'JAMES BOSWELL.'

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'Your notion of the necessity of an yearly interview is very pleasing to
both my vanity and tenderness. I shall, perhaps, come to Carlisle
another year; but my money has not held out so well as it used to do. I
shall go to Ashbourne, and I purpose to make Dr. Taylor invite you. If
you live awhile with me at his house, we shall have much time to
ourselves, and our stay will be no expence to us or him. I shall leave
London the 28th; and after some stay at Oxford and Lichfield, shall
probably come to Ashbourne about the end of your Session, but of all
this you shall have notice. Be satisfied we will meet somewhere.

'What passed between me and poor Dr. Dodd you shall know more fully when
we meet.

'Of lawsuits there is no end; poor Sir Allan must have another trial,
for which, however, his antagonist cannot be much blamed, having two
Judges on his side. I am more afraid of the debts than of the House of
Lords. It is scarcely to be imagined to what debts will swell, that are
daily increasing by small additions, and how carelessly in a state of
desperation debts are contracted. Poor Macquarry was far from thinking
that when he sold his islands he should receive nothing. For what were
they sold? And what was their yearly value? The admission of money into
the Highlands will soon put an end to the feudal modes of life, by
making those men landlords who were not chiefs. I do not know that the
people will suffer by the change; but there was in the patriarchal
authority something venerable and pleasing. Every eye must look with
pain on a _Campbell_ turning the _Macquarries_ at will out of their
_sedes avitæ_, their hereditary island.

'Sir Alexander Dick is the only Scotsman liberal enough not to be angry
that I could not find trees, where trees were not. I was much delighted
by his kind letter.

'I remember Rasay with too much pleasure not to partake of the happiness
of any part of that amiable family. Our ramble in the islands hangs upon
my imagination, I can hardly help imagining that we shall go again.
Pennant seems to have seen a great deal which we did not see: when we
travel again let us look better about us.

'You have done right in taking your uncle's house. Some change in the
form of life, gives from time to time a new epocha[380] of existence. In a
new place there is something new to be done, and a different system of
thoughts rises in the mind. I wish I could gather currants in your
garden. Now fit up a little study, and have your books ready at hand; do
not spare a little money, to make your habitation pleasing to yourself.

'I have dined lately with poor dear ----[381]. I do not think he goes on
well. His table is rather coarse, and he has his children too much about
him[382]. But he is a very good man.

'Mrs. Williams is in the country to try if she can improve her health;
she is very ill. Matters have come so about that she is in the country
with very good accommodation; but age and sickness, and pride, have made
her so peevish that I was forced to bribe the maid to stay with her, by
a secret stipulation of half a crown a week over her wages.

'Our CLUB ended its session about six weeks ago[383]. We now only meet to
dine once a fortnight. Mr. Dunning[384], the great lawyer, is one of our
members. The Thrales are well.

'I long to know how the Negro's cause will be decided. What is the
opinion of Lord Auchinleck, or Lord Hailes, or Lord Monboddo?

'I am, dear Sir,

'Your most affectionate, &c.

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'July 22, 1777.'

'DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL.

'MADAM,

'Though I am well enough pleased with the taste of sweetmeats, very
little of the pleasure which I received at the arrival of your jar of
marmalade arose from eating it[385]. I received it as a token of
friendship, as a proof of reconciliation, things much sweeter than
sweetmeats, and upon this consideration I return you, dear Madam, my
sincerest thanks. By having your kindness I think I have a double
security for the continuance of Mr. Boswell's, which it is not to be
expected that any man can long keep, when the influence of a lady so
highly and so justly valued operates against him. Mr. Boswell will tell
you that I was always faithful to your interest, and always endeavoured
to exalt you in his estimation. You must now do the same for me. We must
all help one another, and you must now consider me, as, dear Madam,

'Your most obliged,

'And most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'July 22, 1777.'

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, July 28, 1777.

'My Dear Sir,

'This is the day on which you were to leave London and I have been
amusing myself in the intervals of my law-drudgery, with figuring you in
the Oxford post-coach. I doubt, however, if you have had so merry a
journey as you and I had in that vehicle last year, when you made so
much sport with Gwyn[386], the architect. Incidents upon a journey are
recollected with peculiar pleasure; they are preserved in brisk spirits,
and come up again in our minds, tinctured with that gaiety, or at least
that animation with which we first perceived them.'

[I added, that something had occurred, which I was afraid might prevent
me from meeting him[387]; and that my wife had been affected with
complaints which threatened a consumption, but was now better.]

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'Do not disturb yourself about our interviews; I hope we shall have
many; nor think it any thing hard or unusual, that your design of
meeting me is interrupted. We have both endured greater evils, and have
greater evils to expect.

'Mrs. Boswell's illness makes a more serious distress. Does the blood
rise from her lungs or from her stomach? From little vessels broken in
the stomach there is no danger. Blood from the lungs is, I believe,
always frothy, as mixed with wind. Your physicians know very well what
is to be done. The loss of such a lady would, indeed, be very
afflictive, and I hope she is in no danger. Take care to keep her mind
as easy as is possible.

'I have left Langton in London. He has been down with the militia, and
is again quiet at home, talking to his little people, as, I suppose, you
do sometimes. Make my compliments to Miss Veronica[388]. The rest are too
young for ceremony.

'I cannot but hope that you have taken your country-house at a very
seasonable time, and that it may conduce to restore, or establish Mrs.
Boswell's health, as well as provide room and exercise for the young
ones. That you and your lady may both be happy, and long enjoy your
happiness, is the sincere and earnest wish of, dear Sir,

'Your most, &c.

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Oxford, Aug. 4, 1777.'

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

[Informing him that my wife had continued to grow better, so that my
alarming apprehensions were relieved: and that I hoped to disengage
myself from the other embarrassment which had occurred, and therefore
requesting to know particularly when he intended to be at Ashbourne.]

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I am this day come to Ashbourne, and have only to tell you, that Dr.
Taylor says you shall be welcome to him, and you know how welcome you
will be to me. Make haste to let me know when you may be expected.

'Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, and tell her, I hope we shall be
at variance no more. I am, dear Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'August 30, 1777.'

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'On Saturday I wrote a very short letter, immediately upon my arrival
hither, to shew you that I am not less desirous of the interview than
yourself. Life admits not of delays; when pleasure can be had, it is fit
to catch it. Every hour takes away part of the things that please us,
and perhaps part of our disposition to be pleased. When I came to
Lichfield, I found my old friend Harry Jackson dead[389]. It was a loss,
and a loss not to be repaired, as he was one of the companions of my
childhood. I hope we may long continue to gain friends, but the friends
which merit or usefulness can procure us, are not able to supply the
place of old acquaintance, with whom the days of youth may be retraced,
and those images revived which gave the earliest delight. If you and I
live to be much older, we shall take great delight in talking over the
Hebridean Journey.

'In the mean time it may not be amiss to contrive some other little
adventure, but what it can be I know not; leave it, as Sidney says,

"To virtue, fortune, wine, and woman's breast[390];"

for I believe Mrs. Boswell must have some part in the consultation.

'One thing you will like. The Doctor, so far as I can judge, is likely
to leave us enough to ourselves. He was out to-day before _I_ came down,
and, I fancy, will stay out till dinner. I have brought the papers about
poor Dodd, to show you, but you will soon have dispatched them.

'Before I came away I sent poor Mrs. Williams into the country, very ill
of a pituitous defluxion, which wastes her gradually away, and which her
physician declares himself unable to stop. I supplied her as far as
could be desired, with all conveniences to make her excursion and abode
pleasant and useful. But I am afraid she can only linger a short time in
a morbid state of weakness and pain.

'The Thrales, little and great, are all well, and purpose to go to
Brighthelmstone at Michaelmas. They will invite me to go with them, and
perhaps I may go, but I hardly think I shall like to stay the whole
time; but of futurity we know but little.

'Mrs. Porter is well; but Mrs. Aston, one of the ladies at Stowhill, has
been struck with a palsy, from which she is not likely ever to recover.
How soon may such a stroke fall upon us!

'Write to me, and let us know when we may expect you.

'I am, dear Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Ashbourne, Sept. 1, 1777.'

'MR. BOSWELL TO DR. JOHNSON.

'Edinburgh, Sept. 9, 1777.

[After informing him that I was to set out next day, in order to meet
him at Ashbourne.]

'I have a present for you from Lord Hailes; the fifth book of
_Lactantius_, which he has published with Latin notes. He is also to
give you a few anecdotes for your _Life of Thomson_, who I find was
private tutor to the present Earl of Hadington, Lord Hailes's cousin, a
circumstance not mentioned by Dr. Murdoch. I have keen expectations of
delight from your edition of _The English Poets_.

'I am sorry for poor Mrs. Williams's situation. You will, however, have
the comfort of reflecting on your kindness to her. Mr. Jackson's death,
and Mrs. Aston's palsy, are gloomy circumstances. Yet surely we should
be habituated to the uncertainty of life and health. When my mind is
unclouded by melancholy, I consider the temporary distresses of this
state of being, as "light afflictions[391]," by stretching my mental view
into that glorious after-existence, when they will appear to be as
nothing. But present pleasures and present pains must be felt. I lately
read _Rasselas_ over again with great satisfaction[392].

'Since you are desirous to hear about Macquarry's sale I shall inform
you particularly. The gentleman who purchased Ulva is Mr. Campbell, of
Auchnaba: our friend Macquarry was proprietor of two-thirds of it, of
which the rent was £156 5s 1-1/2d. This parcel was set up at £4,069 5s.
1d., but it sold for no less than £5,540. The other third of Ulva, with
the island of Staffa, belonged to Macquarry of Ormaig. Its rent,
including that of Staffa, £83 12s. 2-1/2d. set up at £2178 16s.
4d.--sold for no less than £3,540. The Laird of Col wished to purchase
Ulva, but he thought the price too high. There may, indeed, be great
improvements made there, both in fishing and agriculture; but the
interest of the purchase-money exceeds the rent so very much, that I
doubt if the bargain will be profitable. There is an island called
Little Colonsay, of £10 yearly rent, which I am informed has belonged to
the Macquarrys of Ulva for many ages, but which was lately claimed by
the Presbyterian Synod of Argyll, in consequence of a grant made to them
by Queen Anne. It is believed that their claim will be dismissed, and
that Little Colonsay will also be sold for the advantage of Macquarry's
creditors. What think you of purchasing this island, and endowing a
school or college there, the master to be a clergyman of the Church of
England? How venerable would such an institution make the name of DR.
SAMUEL JOHNSON in the Hebrides! I have, like yourself, a wonderful
pleasure in recollecting our travels in those islands. The pleasure is,
I think, greater than it reasonably should be, considering that we had
not much either of beauty or elegance to charm our imaginations, or of
rude novelty to astonish. Let us, by all means, have another expedition.
I shrink a little from our scheme of going up the Baltick[393]. I am sorry
you have already been in Wales; for I wish to see it. Shall we go to
Ireland, of which I have seen but little? We shall try to strike out a
plan when we are at Ashbourne. I am ever,

'Your most faithful humble servant,

'JAMES BOSWELL.'

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'I write to be left at Carlisle, as you direct me; but you cannot have
it. Your letter, dated Sept. 6, was not at this place till this day,
Thursday, Sept. 11; and I hope you will be here before this is at
Carlisle[394]. However, what you have not going, you may have returning;
and as I believe I shall not love you less after our interview, it will
then be as true as it is now, that I set a very high value upon your
friendship, and count your kindness as one of the chief felicities of my
life. Do not fancy that an intermission of writing is a decay of
kindness. No man is always in a disposition to write; nor has any man at
all times something to say.

'That distrust which intrudes so often on your mind is a mode of
melancholy, which, if it be the business of a wise man to be happy, it
is foolish to indulge; and if it be a duty to preserve our faculties
entire for their proper use, it is criminal. Suspicion is very often an
useless pain. From that, and all other pains, I wish you free and safe;
for I am, dear Sir,

'Most affectionately yours,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Ashbourne, Sept. 11, 1777.'

On Sunday evening Sept. 14, I arrived at Ashbourne, and drove directly
up to Dr. Taylor's door. Dr. Johnson and he appeared before I had got
out of the post-chaise, and welcomed me cordially[395].

I told them that I had travelled all the preceding night, and gone to
bed at Leek in Staffordshire; and that when I rose to go to church in
the afternoon, I was informed there had been an earthquake[396], of which,
it seems, the shock had been felt in some degree at Ashbourne. JOHNSON.
'Sir, it will be much exaggerated in popular talk: for, in the first
place, the common people do not accurately adapt their thoughts to the
objects; nor, secondly, do they accurately adapt their words to their
thoughts: they do not mean to lie; but, taking no pains to be exact,
they give you very false accounts. A great part of their language is
proverbial. If anything rocks at all, they say _it rocks like a cradle_;
and in this way they go on.'

The subject of grief for the loss of relations and friends being
introduced, I observed that it was strange to consider how soon it in
general wears away. Dr. Taylor mentioned a gentleman of the
neighbourhood as the only instance he had ever known of a person who had
endeavoured to _retain_ grief. He told Dr. Taylor, that after his Lady's
death, which affected him deeply, he _resolved_ that the grief, which he
cherished with a kind of sacred fondness, should be lasting; but that he
found he could not keep it long. JOHNSON. 'All grief for what cannot in
the course of nature be helped, soon wears away; in some sooner, indeed,
in some later; but it never continues very long, unless where there is
madness, such as will make a man have pride so fixed in his mind, as to
imagine himself a King; or any other passion in an unreasonable way: for
all unnecessary grief is unwise, and therefore will not be long retained
by a sound mind[397]. If, indeed, the cause of our grief is occasioned by
our own misconduct, if grief is mingled with remorse of conscience, it
should be lasting.' BOSWELL. 'But, Sir, we do not approve of a man who
very soon forgets the loss of a wife or a friend.' JOHNSON. 'Sir, we
disapprove of him, not because he soon forgets his grief, for the sooner
it is forgotten the better, but because we suppose, that if he forgets
his wife or his friend soon, he has not had much affection for them[398].'

I was somewhat disappointed in finding that the edition of _The English
Poets_, for which he was to write Prefaces and Lives, was not an
undertaking directed by him: but that he was to furnish a Preface and
Life to any poet the booksellers pleased. I asked him if he would do
this to any dunce's works, if they should ask him. JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir;
and _say_ he was a dunce.' My friend seemed now not much to relish
talking of this edition.

On Monday, September 15, Dr. Johnson observed, that every body commended
such parts of his _Journey to the Western Islands_, as were in their own
way. 'For instance, (said he,) Mr. Jackson (the all-knowing)[399] told me
there was more good sense upon trade in it, than he should hear in the
House of Commons in a year, except from Burke. Jones commended the part
which treats of language; Burke that which describes the inhabitants of
mountainous countries[400].'

After breakfast, Johnson carried me to see the garden belonging to the
school of Ashbourne, which is very prettily formed upon a bank, rising
gradually behind the house. The Reverend Mr. Langley[401], the
head-master, accompanied us.

While we sat basking in the sun upon a seat here, I introduced a common
subject of complaint, the very small salaries which many curates have,
and I maintained, 'that no man should be invested with the character of
a clergyman, unless he has a security for such an income as will enable
him to appear respectable; that, therefore, a clergyman should not be
allowed to have a curate, unless he gives him a hundred pounds a year;
if he cannot do that, let him perform the duty himself.' JOHNSON. 'To be
sure, Sir, it is wrong that any clergyman should be without a reasonable
income; but as the church revenues were sadly diminished at the
Reformation, the clergy who have livings cannot afford, in many
instances, to give good salaries to curates, without leaving themselves
too little; and, if no curate were to be permitted unless he had a
hundred pounds a year, their number would be very small, which would be
a disadvantage, as then there would not be such choice in the nursery
for the church, curates being candidates for the higher ecclesiastical
offices, according to their merit and good behaviour.' He explained the
system of the English Hierarchy exceedingly well. 'It is not thought fit
(said he) to trust a man with the care of a parish till he has given
proof as a curate that he shall deserve such a trust.' This is an
excellent _theory_; and if the _practice_ were according to it, the
Church of England would be admirable indeed. However, as I have heard
Dr. Johnson observe as to the Universities, bad practice does not infer
that the _constitution_ is bad[402].

We had with us at dinner several of Dr. Taylor's neighbours, good civil
gentlemen, who seemed to understand Dr. Johnson very well, and not to
consider him in the light that a certain person did[403], who being
struck, or rather stunned by his voice and manner, when he was
afterwards asked what he thought of him, answered, 'He's a tremendous
companion.'

Johnson told me, that 'Taylor was a very sensible acute man, and had a
strong mind[404]; that he had great activity in some respects, and yet
such a sort of indolence, that if you should put a pebble upon his
chimney-piece, you would find it there, in the same state, a year
afterwards.'

And here is the proper place to give an account of Johnson's humane and
zealous interference in behalf of the Reverend Dr. William Dodd,
formerly Prebendary of Brecon, and chaplain in ordinary to his
Majesty[405]; celebrated as a very popular preacher[406], an encourager of
charitable institutions, and authour of a variety of works, chiefly
theological. Having unhappily contracted expensive habits of living,
partly occasioned by licentiousness of manners, he in an evil hour, when
pressed by want of money, and dreading an exposure of his circumstances,
forged a bond of which he attempted to avail himself to support his
credit, flattering himself with hopes that he might be able to repay its
amount without being detected. The person, whose name he thus rashly and
criminally presumed to falsify, was the Earl of Chesterfield[407], to whom
he had been tutor, and who, he perhaps, in the warmth of his feelings,
flattered himself would have generously paid the money in case of an
alarm being taken, rather than suffer him to fall a victim to the
dreadful consequences of violating the law against forgery, the most
dangerous crime in a commercial country; but the unfortunate divine had
the mortification to find that he was mistaken. His noble pupil appeared
against him, and he was capitally convicted.

Johnson told me that Dr. Dodd was very little acquainted with him,
having been but once in his company, many years previous to this
period[408] (which was precisely the state of my own acquaintance with
Dodd); but in his distress he bethought himself of Johnson's persuasive
power of writing, if haply it might avail to obtain for him the Royal
Mercy. He did not apply to him, directly, but, extraordinary as it may
seem, through the late Countess of Harrington, who wrote a letter to
Johnson, asking him to employ his pen in favour of Dodd. Mr. Allen, the
printer, who was Johnson's landlord and next neighbour in Bolt-court,
and for whom he had much kindness[409], was one of Dodd's friends, of whom
to the credit of humanity be it recorded, that he had many who did not
desert him, even after his infringement of the law had reduced him to
the state of a man under sentence of death. Mr. Allen told me that he
carried Lady Harrington's letter to Johnson, that Johnson read it
walking up and down his chamber, and seemed much agitated, after which
he said, 'I will do what I can;'--and certainly he did make
extraordinary exertions.

He this evening, as he had obligingly promised in one of his letters,
put into my hands the whole series of his writings upon this melancholy
occasion, and I shall present my readers with the abstract which I made
from the collection; in doing which I studied to avoid copying what had
appeared in print, and now make part of the edition of _Johnson's
Works_, published by the Booksellers of London, but taking care to mark
Johnson's variations in some of the pieces there exhibited.

Dr. Johnson wrote in the first place, Dr. Dodd's _Speech to the Recorder
of London_, at the Old-Bailey, when sentence of death was about to be
pronounced upon him.

He wrote also _The Convict's Address to his unhappy Brethren_, a sermon
delivered by Dr. Dodd, in the chapel of Newgate[410].

According to Johnson's manuscript it began thus after the text, _What
shall I do to be saved?_[411]--

'These were the words with which the keeper, to whose custody Paul and
Silas were committed by their prosecutors, addressed his prisoners, when
he saw them freed from their bonds by the perceptible agency of divine
favour, and was, therefore, irresistibly convinced that they were not
offenders against the laws, but martyrs to the truth.'

Dr. Johnson was so good as to mark for me with his own hand, on a copy
of this sermon which is now in my possession, such passages as were
added by Dr. Dodd. They are not many: whoever will take the trouble to
look at the printed copy, and attend to what I mention, will be
satisfied of this.

There is a short introduction by Dr. Dodd, and he also inserted this
sentence, 'You see with what confusion and dishonour I now stand before
you;--no more in the pulpit of instruction, but on this humble seat with
yourselves.' The _notes_ are entirely Dodd's own, and Johnson's writing
ends at the words, 'the thief whom he pardoned on the cross[412].' What
follows was supplied by Dr. Dodd himself[413].

The other pieces mentioned by Johnson in the above-mentioned collection,
are two letters, one to the Lord Chancellor Bathurst, (not Lord North,
as is erroneously supposed,) and one to Lord Mansfield;--A Petition from
Dr. Dodd to the King;--A Petition from Mrs. Dodd to the Queen;--
Observations of some length inserted in the news-papers, on occasion of
Earl Percy's having presented to his Majesty a petition for mercy to
Dodd, signed by twenty thousand people, but all in vain. He told me that
he had also written a petition from the city of London; 'but (said he,
with a significant smile) they _mended_ it[414].' The last of these
articles which Johnson wrote is _Dr. Dodd's last solemn Declaration_,
which he left with the sheriff at the place of execution. Here also my
friend marked the variations on a copy of that piece now in my
possession. Dodd inserted, 'I never knew or attended to the calls of
frugality, or the needful minuteness of painful oeconomy;' and in the
next sentence he introduced the words which I distinguish by _Italicks_;
'My life for some _few unhappy_ years past has been _dreadfully
erroneous_.' Johnson's expression was _hypocritical_; but his remark on
the margin is 'With this he said he could not charge himself.'

Having thus authentically settled what part of the _Occasional Papers_,
concerning Dr. Dodd's miserable situation, came from the pen of Johnson,
I shall proceed to present my readers with my record of the unpublished
writings relating to that extraordinary and interesting matter.

I found a letter to Dr. Johnson from Dr. Dodd, May 23, 1777, in which
_The Convict's Address_ seems clearly to be meant:--

'I am so penetrated, my ever dear Sir, with a sense of your extreme
benevolence towards me, that I cannot find words equal to the sentiments
of my heart.

'You are too conversant in the world to need the slightest hint from me,
of what infinite utility the Speech[415] on the aweful day has been to me.
I experience, every hour, some good effect from it. I am sure that
effects still more salutary and important must follow from _your kind
and intended favour_. I will labour--GOD being my helper,--to do justice
to it from the pulpit. I am sure, had I your sentiments constantly to
deliver from thence, in all their mighty force and power, not a soul
could be left unconvinced and unpersuaded.'

He added:--

'May GOD ALMIGHTY bless and reward, with his choicest comforts, your
philanthropick actions, and enable me at all times to express what I
feel of the high and uncommon obligations which I owe to the _first man_
in our times.'

On Sunday, June 22, he writes, begging Dr. Johnson's assistance in
framing a supplicatory letter to his Majesty:--

'If his Majesty could be moved of his royal clemency to spare me and my
family the horrours and ignominy of a _publick death_, which the publick
itself is solicitous to wave, and to grant me in some silent distant
corner of the globe, to pass the remainder of my days in penitence and
prayer, I would bless his clemency and be humbled.'

This letter was brought to Dr. Johnson when in church. He stooped down
and read it, and wrote, when he went home, the following letter for Dr.
Dodd to the King:--

'SIR,

'May it not offend your Majesty, that the most miserable of men applies
himself to your clemency, as his last hope and his last refuge; that
your mercy is most earnestly and humbly implored by a clergyman, whom
your Laws and Judges have condemned to the horrour and ignominy of a
publick execution.

'I confess the crime, and own the enormity of its consequences, and the
danger of its example. Nor have I the confidence to petition for
impunity; but humbly hope, that publick security may be established,
without the spectacle of a clergyman dragged through the streets, to a
death of infamy, amidst the derision of the profligate and profane; and
that justice may be satisfied with irrevocable exile, perpetual
disgrace, and hopeless penury.

'My life, Sir, has not been useless to mankind. I have benefited many.
But my offences against GOD are numberless, and I have had little time
for repentance. Preserve me, Sir, by your prerogative of mercy, from the
necessity of appearing unprepared at that tribunal, before which Kings
and Subjects must stand at last together. Permit me to hide my guilt in
some obscure corner of a foreign country, where, if I can ever attain
confidence to hope that my prayers will be heard, they shall be poured
with all the fervour of gratitude for the life and happiness of your
Majesty. I am, Sir,

'Your Majesty's, &c.'

Subjoined to it was written as follows:

'To DR. DODD.

'SIR,

'I most seriously enjoin you not to let it be at all known that I have
written this letter, and to return the copy to Mr. Allen in a cover to
me. I hope I need not tell you, that I wish it success.--But do not
indulge hope.--Tell nobody.'

It happened luckily that Mr. Allen was pitched on to assist in this
melancholy office, for he was a great friend of Mr. Akerman, the keeper
of Newgate. Dr. Johnson never went to see Dr. Dodd. He said to me, 'it
would have done _him_ more harm, than good to Dodd, who once expressed a
desire to see him, but not earnestly.'

Dr. Johnson, on the 20th of June, wrote the following letter:

'To THE RIGHT HONOURABLE CHARLES JENKINSON.

'SIR,

'Since the conviction and condemnation of Dr. Dodd, I have had, by the
intervention of a friend, some intercourse with him, and I am sure I
shall lose nothing in your opinion by tenderness and commiseration.
Whatever be the crime, it is not easy to have any knowledge of the
delinquent, without a wish that his life may be spared; at least when no
life has been taken away by him. I will, therefore, take the liberty of
suggesting some reasons for which I wish this unhappy being to escape
the utmost rigour of his sentence.

'He is, so far as I can recollect, the first clergyman of our church who
has suffered publick execution for immorality; and I know not whether it
would not be more for the interest of religion to bury such an offender
in the obscurity of perpetual exile, than to expose him in a cart, and
on the gallows, to all who for any reason are enemies to the clergy.

'The supreme power has, in all ages, paid some attention to the voice of
the people; and that voice does not least deserve to be heard, when it
calls out for mercy. There is now a very general desire that Dodd's life
should be spared. More is not wished; and, perhaps, this is not too much
to be granted.

'If you, Sir, have any opportunity of enforcing these reasons, you may,
perhaps, think them worthy of consideration: but whatever you determine,
I most respectfully intreat that you will be pleased to pardon for this
intrusion, Sir,

'Your most obedient

'And most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

It has been confidently circulated, with invidious remarks, that to this
letter no attention whatever was paid by Mr. Jenkinson (afterwards Earl
of Liverpool[416]), and that he did not even deign to shew the common
civility of owning the receipt of it. I could not but wonder at such
conduct in the noble Lord, whose own character and just elevation in
life, I thought, must have impressed him with all due regard for great
abilities and attainments. As the story had been much talked of, and
apparently from good authority, I could not but have animadverted upon
it in this work, had it been as was alleged; but from my earnest love of
truth, and having found reason to think that there might be a mistake, I
presumed to write to his Lordship, requesting an explanation; and it is
with the sincerest pleasure that I am enabled to assure the world, that
there is no foundation for it, the fact being, that owing to some
neglect, or accident, Johnson's letter never came to Lord Hawkesbury's
hands. I should have thought it strange indeed, if that noble Lord had
undervalued my illustrious friend; but instead of this being the case,
his Lordship, in the very polite answer with which he was pleased
immediately to honour me, thus expresses himself:--'I have always
respected the memory of Dr. Johnson, and admire his writings; and I
frequently read many parts of them with pleasure and great improvement.'

All applications for the Royal Mercy having failed, Dr. Dodd prepared
himself for death; and, with a warmth of gratitude, wrote to Dr. Johnson
as follows:

'June 25, _Midnight_.

'Accept, thou _great_ and _good_ heart, my earnest and fervent thanks
and prayers for all thy benevolent and kind efforts in my behalf.--Oh!
Dr. Johnson! as I sought your knowledge at an early hour in life, would
to heaven I had cultivated the love and acquaintance of so excellent a
man!--I pray GOD most sincerely to bless you with the highest
transports--the infelt satisfaction of _humane_ and benevolent
exertions!--And admitted, as I trust I shall be, to the realms of bliss
before you, I shall hail _your_ arrival there with transports, and
rejoice to acknowledge that you was my Comforter, my Advocate and my
_Friend_! GOD _be ever_ with _you_!'

Dr. Johnson lastly wrote to Dr. Dodd this solemn and soothing
letter:

'To THE REVEREND DR. DODD.

'DEAR SIR,

'That which is appointed to all men is now coming upon you. Outward
circumstances, the eyes and the thoughts of men, are below the notice of
an immortal being about to stand the trial for eternity, before the
Supreme Judge of heaven and earth. Be comforted: your crime, morally or
religiously considered, has no very deep dye of turpitude. It corrupted
no man's principles; it attacked no man's life. It involved only a
temporary and reparable injury. Of this, and of all other sins, you are
earnestly to repent; and may GOD, who knoweth our frailty, and desireth
not our death, accept your repentance, for the sake of his Son JESUS
CHRIST our Lord.

'In requital of those well-intended offices which you are pleased so
emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that you make in your devotions
one petition for my eternal welfare. I am, dear Sir,

'Your affectionate servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'June 26, 1777.'

Under the copy of this letter I found written, in Johnson's own hand,
'Next day, June 27, he was executed.'

To conclude this interesting episode with an useful application, let us
now attend to the reflections of Johnson at the end of the _Occasional
Papers_, concerning the unfortunate Dr. Dodd:

'Such were the last thoughts of a man whom we have seen exulting in
popularity, and sunk in shame. For his reputation, which no man can give
to himself, those who conferred it are to answer. Of his publick
ministry the means of judging were sufficiently attainable. He must be
allowed to preach well, whose sermons strike his audience with forcible
conviction. Of his life, those who thought it consistent with his
doctrine, did not originally form false notions. He was at first what he
endeavoured to make others; but the world broke down his resolution, and
he in time ceased to exemplify his own instructions.

'Let those who are tempted to his faults, tremble at his punishment; and
those whom he impressed from the pulpit with religious sentiments,
endeavour to confirm them, by considering the regret and self-abhorrence
with which he reviewed in prison his deviations from rectitude.'

Johnson gave us this evening, in his happy discriminative manner, a
portrait of the late Mr. Fitzherbert, of Derbyshire. 'There was (said
he) no sparkle, no brilliancy in Fitzherbert; but I never knew a man who
was so generally acceptable[417]. He made every body quite easy,
overpowered nobody by the superiority of his talents, made no man think
worse of himself by being his rival, seemed always to listen, did not
oblige you to hear much from him, and did not oppose what you said.
Every body liked him; but he had no friend, as I understand the word,
nobody with whom he exchanged intimate thoughts[418]. People were willing
to think well of every thing about him. A gentleman was making an
affected rant, as many people do, of great feelings about "his dear
son," who was at school near London; how anxious he was lest he might be
ill, and what he would give to see him. "Can't you (said Fitzherbert,)
take a post-chaise and go to him." This, to be sure, _finished_ the
affected man, but there was not much in it[419]. However, this was
circulated as wit for a whole winter, and I believe part of a summer
too; a proof that he was no very witty man. He was an instance of the
truth of the observation, that a man will please more upon the whole by
negative qualities than by positive; by never offending, than by giving
a great deal of delight. In the first place, men hate more steadily than
they love; and if I have said something to hurt a man once, I shall not
get the better of this, by saying many things to please him[420].'

Tuesday, September 16, Dr. Johnson having mentioned to me the
extraordinary size and price of some cattle reared by Dr. Taylor, I rode
out with our host, surveyed his farm, and was shown one cow which he had
sold for a hundred and twenty guineas, and another for which he had been
offered a hundred and thirty[421]. Taylor thus described to me his old
schoolfellow and friend, Johnson: 'He is a man of a very clear head,
great power of words, and a very gay imagination; but there is no
disputing with him. He will not hear you, and having a louder voice than
you, must roar you down.'

In the afternoon I tried to get Dr. Johnson to like the Poems of Mr.
Hamilton of Bangour[422], which I had brought with me: I had been much
pleased with them at a very early age; the impression still remained on
my mind; it was confirmed by the opinion of my friend the Honourable
Andrew Erskine, himself both a good poet[423] and a good critick, who
thought Hamilton as true a poet as ever wrote, and that his not having
fame was unaccountable. Johnson, upon repeated occasions, while I was at
Ashbourne, talked slightingly of Hamilton. He said there was no power of
thinking in his verses, nothing that strikes one, nothing better than
what you generally find in magazines; and that the highest praise they
deserved was, that they were very well for a gentleman to hand about
among his friends. He said the imitation of _Ne sit ancillæ tibi
amor_[424], &c. was too solemn; he read part of it at the beginning. He
read the beautiful pathetick song, _Ah the poor shepherd's mournful
fate_, and did not seem to give attention to what I had been used to
think tender elegant strains, but laughed at the rhyme, in Scotch
pronunciation, _wishes and blushes_[425], reading _wushes_--and there he
stopped. He owned that the epitaph on Lord Newhall was pretty well done.
He read the _Inscription in a Summer-house_, and a little of the
imitations of Horace's _Epistles_; but said he found nothing to make him
desire to read on. When I urged that there were some good poetical
passages in the book. 'Where (said he,) will you find so large a
collection without some?' I thought the description of Winter might
obtain his approbation:

'See[426] Winter, from the frozen north
Drives his iron chariot forth!
His grisly hand in icy chains
Fair Tweeda's silver flood constrains,' &c.

He asked why an '_iron_ chariot'? and said 'icy chains' was an old
image[427]. I was struck with the uncertainty of taste, and somewhat sorry
that a poet whom I had long read with fondness, was not approved by Dr.
Johnson. I comforted myself with thinking that the beauties were too
delicate for his robust perceptions. Garrick maintained that he had not
a taste for the finest productions of genius: but I was sensible, that
when he took the trouble to analyse critically, he generally convinced
us that he was right.

In the evening, the Reverend Mr. Seward[428], of Lichfield, who was
passing through Ashbourne in his way home, drank tea with us. Johnson
described him thus:--'Sir, his ambition is to be a fine talker; so he
goes to Buxton, and such places, where he may find companies to listen
to him. And, Sir, he is valetudinarian, one of those who are always
mending themselves. I do not know a more disagreeable character than a
valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any thing that is for his ease, and
indulges himself in the grossest freedoms: Sir, he brings himself to the
state of a hog in a stye[429].'

Dr. Taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was because he had
omitted to have himself blooded four days after a quarter of a year's
interval. Dr. Johnson, who was a great dabbler in physick[430],
disapproved much of periodical bleeding[431]. 'For (said he) you accustom
yourself to an evacuation which Nature cannot perform of herself, and
therefore she cannot help you, should you, from forgetfulness or any
other cause, omit it; so you may be suddenly suffocated. You may
accustom yourself to other periodical evacuations, because should you
omit them, Nature can supply the omission; but Nature cannot open a vein
to blood you.'--'I do not like to take an emetick, (said Taylor,) for
fear of breaking some small vessels.'--'Poh! (said Johnson,) if you have
so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once,
and there's an end on't. You will break no small vessels' (blowing with
high derision).

I mentioned to Dr. Johnson, that David Hume's persisting in his
infidelity, when he was dying, shocked me much. JOHNSON. 'Why should it
shock you, Sir? Hume owned he had never read the New Testament with
attention. Here then was a man, who had been at no pains to inquire into
the truth of religion, and had continually turned his mind the other
way. It was not to be expected that the prospect of death would alter
his way of thinking, unless GOD should send an angel to set him right.'
I said, I had reason to believe that the thought of annihilation gave
Hume no pain. JOHNSON. 'It was not so, Sir[432]. He had a vanity in being
thought easy. It is more probable that he should assume an appearance of
ease, than that so very improbable a thing should be, as a man not
afraid of going (as, in spite of his delusive theory, he cannot be sure
but he may go,) into an unknown state, and not being uneasy at leaving
all he knew. And you are to consider, that upon his own principle of
annihilation he had no motive to speak the truth.' The horrour of death
which I had always observed in Dr. Johnson, appeared strong to-night. I
ventured to tell him, that I had been, for moments in my life, not
afraid of death; therefore I could suppose another man in that state of
mind for a considerable space of time. He said, 'he never had a moment
in which death was not terrible to him[433].' He added, that it had been
observed, that scarce any man[434] dies in publick, but with apparent
resolution; from that desire of praise which never quits us. I said, Dr.
Dodd seemed to be willing to die, and full of hopes of happiness. 'Sir,
(said he,) Dr. Dodd would have given both his hands and both his legs to
have lived. The better a man is, the more afraid he is of death, having
a clearer view of infinite purity.' He owned, that our being in an
unhappy uncertainty as to our salvation, was mysterious; and said, 'Ah!
we must wait till we are in another state of being, to have many things
explained to us.' Even the powerful mind of Johnson seemed foiled by
futurity. But I thought, that the gloom of uncertainty in solemn
religious speculation, being mingled with hope, was yet more consolatory
than the emptiness of infidelity. A man can live in thick air, but
perishes in an exhausted receiver.

Dr. Johnson was much pleased with a remark which I told him was made to
me by General Paoli:--'That it is impossible not to be afraid of death;
and that those who at the time of dying are not afraid, are not thinking
of death, but of applause, or something else, which keeps death out of
their sight: so that all men are equally afraid of death when they see
it; only some have a power of turning their sight away from it better
than others[435].'

On Wednesday, September 17, Dr. Butter, physician at Derby, drank tea
with us; and it was settled that Dr. Johnson and I should go on Friday
and dine with him. Johnson said, 'I'm glad of this.' He seemed weary of
the uniformity of life at Dr. Taylor's.

Talking of biography, I said, in writing a life, a man's peculiarities
should be mentioned, because they mark his character. JOHNSON. 'Sir,
there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question is, whether a man's
vices should be mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned
that Addison and Parnell drank too freely: for people will probably more
easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; so that more ill may be
done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth[436].' Here was
an instance of his varying from himself in talk; for when Lord Hailes
and he sat one morning calmly conversing in my house at Edinburgh, I
well remember that Dr. Johnson maintained, that 'If a man is to write A
_Panegyrick_, he may keep vices out of sight; but if he professes to
write _A Life_, he must represent it really as it was:' and when I
objected to the danger of telling that Parnell drank to excess, he said,
that 'it would produce an instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it
was seen, that even the learning and genius of Parnell could be debased
by it.' And in the Hebrides he maintained, as appears from my
_Journal_[437], that a man's intimate friend should mention his faults, if
he writes his life[438].

He had this evening, partly, I suppose, from the spirit of contradiction
to his Whig friend, a violent argument with Dr. Taylor, as to the
inclinations of the people of England at this time towards the Royal
Family of Stuart. He grew so outrageous as to say, 'that, if England
were fairly polled, the present King would be sent away to-night, and
his adherents hanged to-morrow.' Taylor, who was as violent a Whig as
Johnson was a Tory, was roused by this to a pitch of bellowing. He
denied, loudly, what Johnson said; and maintained, that there was an
abhorrence against the Stuart family, though he admitted that the people
were not much attached to the present King[439]. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the state
of the country is this: the people knowing it to be agreed on all hands
that this King has not the hereditary right to the crown, and there
being no hope that he who has it can be restored, have grown cold and
indifferent upon the subject of loyalty, and have no warm attachment to
any King. They would not, therefore, risk any thing to restore the
exiled family. They would not give twenty shillings a piece to bring it
about. But, if a mere vote could do it, there would be twenty to one; at
least, there would be a very great majority of voices for it. For, Sir,
you are to consider, that all those who think a King has a right to his
crown, as a man has to his estate, which is the just opinion, would be
for restoring the King who certainly has the hereditary right, could he
be trusted with it; in which there would be no danger now, when laws and
every thing else are so much advanced: and every King will govern by the
laws. And you must also consider, Sir, that there is nothing on the
other side to oppose to this; for it is not alleged by any one that the
present family has any inherent right[440]: so that the Whigs could not
have a contest between two rights.'

Dr. Taylor admitted, that if the question as to hereditary right were to
be tried by a poll of the people of England, to be sure the abstract
doctrine would be given in favour of the family of Stuart; but he said,
the conduct of that family, which occasioned their expulsion, was so
fresh in the minds of the people, that they would not vote for a
restoration. Dr. Johnson, I think, was contented with the admission as
to the hereditary right, leaving the original point in dispute, _viz_.
what the people upon the whole would do, taking in right and affection;
for he said, people were afraid of a change, even though they think it
right. Dr. Taylor said something of the slight foundation of the
hereditary right, of the house of Stuart. 'Sir, (said Johnson,) the
house of Stuart succeeded to the full right of both the houses of York
and Lancaster, whose common source had the undisputed right. A right to
a throne is like a right to any thing else. Possession is sufficient,
where no better right can be shown. This was the case with the Royal
Family of England, as it is now with the King of France: for as to the
first beginning of the right, we are in the dark[441].'

Thursday, September 18. Last night Dr. Johnson had proposed that the
crystal lustre, or chandelier, in Dr. Taylor's large room, should be
lighted up some time or other. Taylor said, it should be lighted up next
night. 'That will do very well, (said I,) for it is Dr. Johnson's
birth-day[442].' When we were in the Isle of Sky, Johnson had desired me
not to mention his birth-day. He did not seem pleased at this time that
I mentioned it, and said (somewhat sternly) 'he would _not_ have the
lustre lighted the next day.'

Some ladies, who had been present yesterday when I mentioned his
birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued him unintentionally, by
wishing him joy. I know not why he disliked having his birth-day
mentioned, unless it were that it reminded him of his approaching nearer
to death, of which he had a constant dread[443].

I mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly gloomy from low
spirits, and much distressed by the fear of death, but was now uniformly
placid, and contemplated his dissolution without any perturbation. 'Sir,
(said Johnson,) this is only a disordered imagination taking a different
turn.'

We talked of a collection being made of all the English Poets who had
published a volume of poems. Johnson told me 'that a Mr. Coxeter[444],
whom he knew, had gone the greatest length towards this; having
collected, I think, about five hundred volumes of poets whose works were
little known; but that upon his death Tom Osborne[445] bought them, and
they were dispersed, which he thought a pity, as it was curious to see
any series complete; and in every volume of poems something good may be
found.'

He observed, that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a
bad style of poetry of late[446]. 'He puts (said he) a very common thing
in a strange dress till he does not know it himself, and thinks other
people do not know it.' BOSWELL. 'That is owing to his being so much
versant in old English poetry[447].' JOHNSON. 'What is the purpose, Sir?
If I say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking much
drink, the matter is not mended. No, Sir, ---- has taken to an odd mode.
For example; he'd write thus:

"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
  Wearing out life's evening gray[448]."

_Gray evening_ is common enough; but _evening gray_ he'd think
fine[449].--Stay;--we'll make out the stanza:

"Hermit hoar, in solemn cell,
  Wearing out life's evening gray;
Smite thy bosom, sage, and tell,
  What is bliss? and which the way?"'

BOSWELL. 'But why smite his bosom, Sir?' JOHNSON. 'Why to shew he was in
earnest,' (smiling).--He at an after period added the following stanza:

'Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'd;
  --Scarce repress'd the starting tear;--
When the smiling sage reply'd--
  --Come, my lad, and drink some beer[450].'

I cannot help thinking the first stanza very good solemn poetry, as also
the three first lines of the second. Its last line is an excellent
burlesque surprise on gloomy sentimental enquirers. And, perhaps, the
advice is as good as can be given to a low-spirited dissatisfied
being:--'Don't trouble your head with sickly thinking: take a cup, and
be merry.'

Friday, September 19, after breakfast Dr. Johnson and I set out in Dr.
Taylor's chaise to go to Derby. The day was fine, and we resolved to go
by Keddlestone, the seat of Lord Scarsdale, that I might see his
Lordship's fine house. I was struck with the magnificence of the
building; and the extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with
deer, and cattle, and sheep, delighted me. The number of old oaks, of an
immense size, filled me with a sort of respectful admiration: for one of
them sixty pounds was offered. The excellent smooth gravel roads; the
large piece of water formed by his Lordship from some small brooks, with
a handsome barge upon it; the venerable Gothick church, now the family
chapel, just by the house; in short, the grand group of objects agitated
and distended my mind in a most agreeable manner. 'One should think
(said I) that the proprietor of all this _must_ be happy.'--'Nay, Sir,
(said Johnson,) all this excludes but one evil--poverty[451].'

Our names were sent up, and a well-drest elderly housekeeper, a most
distinct articulator, shewed us the house; which I need not describe, as
there is an account of it published in _Adam's Works in Architecture_.
Dr. Johnson thought better of it to-day than when he saw it before[452];
for he had lately attacked it violently, saying, 'It would do
excellently for a town-hall. The large room with the pillars (said he)
would do for the Judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for
a jury-chamber; and the room above for prisoners.' Still he thought the
large room ill lighted, and of no use but for dancing in; and the
bed-chambers but indifferent rooms; and that the immense sum which it
cost was injudiciously laid out. Dr. Taylor had put him in mind of his
_appearing_ pleased with the house. 'But (said he) that was when Lord
Scarsdale was present. Politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a
man's works when he is present. No man will be so ill bred as to
question you. You may therefore pay compliments without saying what is
not true. I should say to Lord Scarsdale of his large room, "My Lord,
this is the most _costly_ room that I ever saw;" which is true.'

Dr. Manningham, physician in London, who was visiting at Lord
Scarsdale's, accompanyed us through many of the rooms, and soon
afterwards my Lord himself, to whom Dr. Johnson was known, appeared, and
did the honours of the house. We talked of Mr. Langton. Johnson, with a
warm vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, 'The earth does not
bear a worthier man than Bennet Langton.' We saw a good many fine
pictures, which I think are described in one of _Young's Tours_[453].
There is a printed catalogue of them which the housekeeper put into my
hand; I should like to view them at leisure. I was much struck with
Daniel interpreting Nebuchadnezzar's dream by Rembrandt. We were shown a
pretty large library. In his Lordship's dressing-room lay Johnson's
small _Dictionary_: he shewed it to me, with some eagerness, saying,
'Look 'ye! _Quæ terra nostri non plena laboris_[454].' He observed, also,
Goldsmith's _Animated Nature_; and said, 'Here's our friend! The poor
Doctor would have been happy to hear of this.'

In our way, Johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in a
post-chaise[455]. 'If (said he) I had no duties, and no reference to
futurity, I would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with
a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would
add something to the conversation.' I observed, that we were this day to
stop just where the Highland army did in 1745[456]. JOHNSON. 'It was a
noble attempt.' BOSWELL. 'I wish we could have an authentick history of
it.' JOHNSON. 'If you were not an idle dog you might write it, by
collecting from every body what they can tell, and putting down your
authorities.' BOSWELL. 'But I could not have the advantage of it in my
life-time.' JOHNSON. 'You might have the satisfaction of its fame, by
printing it in Holland; and as to profit, consider how long it was
before writing came to be considered in a pecuniary view. Baretti says,
he is the first man that ever received copy-money in Italy[457].' I said
that I would endeavour to do what Dr. Johnson suggested; and I thought
that I might write so as to venture to publish my _History of the Civil
War in Great-Britain in 1745 and 1746_ without being obliged to go to a
foreign press[458].

When we arrived at Derby, Dr. Butter accompanied us to see the
manufactory of china there. I admired the ingenuity and delicate art
with which a man fashioned clay into a cup, a saucer, or a tea-pot,
while a boy turned round a wheel to give the mass rotundity. I thought
this as excellent in its species of power, as making good verses in
_its_ species. Yet I had no respect for this potter. Neither, indeed,
has a man of any extent of thinking for a mere verse-maker, in whose
numbers, however perfect, there is no poetry, no mind. The china was
beautiful, but Dr. Johnson justly observed it was too dear; for that he
could have vessels of silver, of the same size, as cheap as what were
here made of porcelain[459].

I felt a pleasure in walking about Derby such as I always have in
walking about any town to which I am not accustomed. There is an
immediate sensation of novelty; and one speculates on the way in which
life is passed in it, which, although there is a sameness every where
upon the whole, is yet minutely diversified. The minute diversities in
every thing are wonderful. Talking of shaving the other night at Dr.
Taylor's, Dr. Johnson said, 'Sir, of a thousand shavers, two do not
shave so much alike as not to be distinguished.' I thought this not
possible, till he specified so many of the varieties in
shaving;--holding the razor more or less perpendicular;--drawing long or
short strokes;--beginning at the upper part of the face, or the
under;--at the right side or the left side. Indeed, when one considers
what variety of sounds can be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass of
a very small aperture, we may be convinced how many degrees of
difference there may be in the application of a razor.

We dined with Dr. Butter, whose lady is daughter of my cousin Sir John
Douglas, whose grandson is now presumptive heir of the noble family of
Queensberry. Johnson and he had a good deal of medical conversation.
Johnson said, he had somewhere or other given an account of Dr.
Nichols's[460] discourse _De Animá Medicâ_. He told us 'that whatever a
man's distemper was, Dr. Nichols would not attend him as a physician, if
his mind was not at ease; for he believed that no medicines would have
any influence. He once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none
of the medicines he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife
privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? She said no. He
continued his attendance some time, still without success. At length the
man's wife told him, she had discovered that her husband's affairs
_were_ in a bad way. When Goldsmith was dying, Dr. Turton said to him,
"Your pulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of
fever which you have: is your mind at ease?" Goldsmith answered it was
not.'

After dinner, Mrs. Butter went with me to see the silk-mill which Mr.
John Lombe had[461] had a patent for, having brought away the contrivance
from Italy. I am not very conversant with mechanicks; but the simplicity
of this machine, and its multiplied operations, struck me with an
agreeable surprize. I had learnt from Dr. Johnson, during this
interview, not to think with a dejected indifference of the works of
art, and the pleasures of life, because life is uncertain and short; but
to consider such indifference as a failure of reason, a morbidness of
mind; for happiness should be cultivated as much as we can, and the
objects which are instrumental to it should be steadily considered as of
importance[462], with a reference not only to ourselves, but to multitudes
in successive ages. Though it is proper to value small parts, as

'Sands make the mountain, moments make the year[463];'

yet we must contemplate, collectively, to have a just estimation of
objects. One moment's being uneasy or not, seems of no consequence; yet
this may be thought of the next, and the next, and so on, till there is
a large portion of misery. In the same way one must think of happiness,
of learning, of friendship. We cannot tell the precise moment when
friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at
last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there
is at last one which makes the heart run over. We must not divide
objects of our attention into minute parts, and think separately of each
part. It is by contemplating a large mass of human existence, that a
man, while he sets a just value on his own life, does not think of his
death as annihilating all that is great and pleasing in the world, as if
actually _contained in his mind_, according to Berkeley's reverie[464]. If
his imagination be not sickly and feeble, it 'wings its distant way[465]'
far beyond himself, and views the world in unceasing activity of every
sort. It must be acknowledged, however, that Pope's plaintive
reflection, that all things would be as gay as ever, on the day of his
death, is natural and common[466]. We are apt to transfer to all around us
our own gloom, without considering that at any given point of time there
is, perhaps, as much youth and gaiety in the world as at another. Before
I came into this life, in which I have had so many pleasant scenes, have
not thousands and ten thousands of deaths and funerals happened, and
have not families been in grief for their nearest relations? But have
those dismal circumstances at all affected _me_? Why then should the
gloomy scenes which I experience, or which I know, affect others? Let us
guard against imagining that there is an end of felicity upon earth,
when we ourselves grow old, or are unhappy.

Dr. Johnson told us at tea, that when some of Dr. Dodd's pious friends
were trying to console him by saying that he was going to leave 'a
wretched world,' he had honesty enough not to join in the cant[467]:--'No,
no (said he,) it has been a very agreeable world to me.' Johnson added,
'I respect Dodd for thus speaking the truth; for, to be sure, he had for
several years enjoyed a life of great voluptuousness[468].'

He told us, that Dodd's city friends stood by him so, that a thousand
pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if he would let him escape.
He added, that he knew a friend of Dodd's, who walked about Newgate for
some time on the evening before the day of his execution, with five
hundred pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turnkeys
who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was watched with much
circumspection[469]. He said, Dodd's friends had an image of him made of
wax, which was to have been left in his place; and he believed it was
carried into the prison.

Johnson disapproved of Dr. Dodd's leaving the world persuaded that _The
Convict's Address to his unhappy Brethren_ was of his own writing[470].
'But, Sir, (said I,) you contributed to the deception; for when Mr.
Seward expressed a doubt to you that it was not Dodd's own, because it
had a great deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be
his, you answered,--"Why should you think so? Depend upon it, Sir, when
a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind
wonderfully."' JOHNSON. 'Sir, as Dodd got it from me to pass as his own,
while that could do him any good, there was an _implied promise_ that I
should not own it. To own it, therefore, would have been telling a lie,
with the addition of breach of promise, which was worse than simply
telling a lie to make it be believed it was Dodd's. Besides, Sir, I did
not _directly_ tell a lie: I left the matter uncertain. Perhaps I
thought that Seward would not believe it the less to be mine for what I
said; but I would not put it in his power to say I had owned it.'

He praised Blair's sermons: 'Yet,' said he, (willing to let us see he
was aware that fashionable fame, however deserved, is not always the
most lasting,) 'perhaps, they may not be re-printed after seven years;
at least not after Blair's death[471].'

He said, 'Goldsmith was a plant that flowered late[472]. There appeared
nothing remarkable about him when he was young; though when he had got
high in fame, one of his friends[473] began to recollect something of his
being distinguished at College. Goldsmith in the same manner recollected
more of that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man.'

I mentioned that Lord Monboddo told me, he awaked every morning at four,
and then for his health got up and walked in his room naked, with the
window open, which he called taking _an air bath_[474]; after which he
went to bed again, and slept two hours more. Johnson, who was always
ready to beat down any thing that seemed to be exhibited with
disproportionate importance, thus observed: 'I suppose, Sir, there is no
more in it than this, he awakes at four, and cannot sleep till he chills
himself, and makes the warmth of the bed a grateful sensation.'

I talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. Dr. Johnson told
me, 'that the learned Mrs. Carter, at that period when she was eager in
study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a
contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-light should burn a
string to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with a
strong sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then she had no
difficulty in getting up.' But I said _that_ was my difficulty; and
wished there could be some medicine invented which would make one rise
without pain, which I never did, unless after lying in bed a very long
time. Perhaps there may be something in the stores of Nature which could
do this. I have thought of a pulley to raise me gradually; but that
would give me pain, as it would counteract my internal inclination. I
would have something that can dissipate the _vis inertiæ_, and give
elasticity to the muscles. As I imagine that the human body may be put,
by the operation of other substances, into any state in which it has
ever been; and as I have experienced a state in which rising from bed
was not disagreeable, but easy, nay, sometimes agreeable; I suppose that