I am afraid I must once more owe my recovery to warm weather, which seems to make no advances towards us. "Such is my health, which will, I hope, soon grow better. In other respects I have no reason to complain. I know not that I have written any thing more generally commended than the Lives of the Poets; and have found the world willing enough to caress me, if my health had invited me to be in much company; but this season I have been almost wholly employed in nursing myself. "When summer comes I hope to see you again, and will not put off my visit to the end of the year. I have lived so long in London, that I did not remember the differ "DEAR SIR, "TO THE SAME. [Without a date, but supposed to be "THAT you and dear Mrs. Careless should have care or curiosity about my health, gives me that pleasure which every man feels from finding himself not forgotten. In age we feel again that love of our native place and our early friends, which in the bustle or amusements of middle life, were overborne and suspended. You and I should now naturally cling to one onother: we have outlived most of those who could pretend to where in the summer; mentioned the state of my affairs, and suggested hopes of some preferment; informed him, that as "The Beauties of Johnson" had been published in London, some obscure scribbler had published at Edinburgh, what he called "The Deformities of Johnson." "TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. "DEAR SIR, "The pleasure which we used to receive from each other on Good-Friday and Easter-day, we must be this year content to miss. Let us, however, pray for each other, and hope to see one another yet from time to time with mutual delight. My disorder has been a cold, which impeded the organs of respiration, and kept me many weeks in a state of great uneasiness; but by repeated phlebotomy it is now relieved: and next to the recovery of Mrs. Boswell, I flatter my. self, that you will rejoice at mine. "What we shall do in the summer, it is yet too early to consider. You want to know what you shall do now; I do not think this time of bustle and confusion like to produce any advantage to you. Every man has those to reward and gratify who have contributed to his advancement. To come hither with such expectations at the expense of borrowed money, which, I find, you know not where to borrow, can hardly what your solicitations seem to imply, that be considered prudent. I am sorry to find, you have already gone the whole length of your credit. This is to set the quiet of your whole life at hazard. If you anticipate your inheritance, you can at last inherit nothing; all that you receive must pay for the past. You must get a place, or pine in penury, with the empty name of a great estate Poverty, my dear friend, is so great an evil, and pregnant with so much temptation, and so much misery, that I cannot but earnestly enjoin you to avoid it. Live on what you have; live if you can on less; do not borrow will end in shame, and the pleasure in reeither for vanity or pleasure; the vanity gret: stay therefore at home, till you have saved money for your journey hither. rival us in each other's kindness. In our walk through life we have dropped our companions, and are now to pick up such as chance may offer us, or to travel on alone. You, indeed, have a sister, with whom you can divide the day: I have no natural friend left; but Providence has been pleased to preserve me from neglect; I have not wanted such alleviations of life as friendship could supply. My health has been, from my twentieth year, such as has seldom afforded me a single day of ease; but it is at least not worse: and I sometimes make my-well, who is I hope reconciled to me; and to "Make my compliments to Mrs. Bos self believe that it is better. My disorders the young people, whom I have never of are, however, still sufficiently oppressive. "I think of seeing Staffordshire again this autumn, and intend to find my way through Birmingham, where I hope to see you and dear Mrs Careless well. I am, Sir, "Your affectionate friend, "SAM. JOHNSON." I wrote to him at different dates; regretted that I could not come to London this spring, but hoped we should meet some "The Beauties of Johnson' are said to have got money to the collector; if the Deformities' have the same success, I shall be still a more extensive benefactor. fended. plea against the Solicitors. "I am, dear Sir, "London, March 28, 1782.” Notwithstanding his afflicted state of body | and mind this year, the following correspondence affords a proof not only of his benevolence and conscientious readiness to relieve a good man from error, but by his clo2 thing one of the sentiments in his "Rambler" in different language, not inferior to that of the original, shews his extraordinary command of clear and forcible expression. A clergyman at Bath wrote to him, that, in "The Morning Chronicle," a passage in "The Beauties of Johnson," article DEATH, had been pointed out as supposed by some readers to recommend suicide, the words being, "To die is the fate of man; but to die with lingering anguish is generally his folly;" and respectfully suggesting to him, that such an erroneous notion of any sentence in the writings of an acknowledged friend of religion and virtue, should not pass uncontradicted. Johnson thus answered the clergyman's letter: "TO THE REVEREND MR. "SIR, BATH. AT "BEING now in the country in a state of recovery, as I hope, from a very oppressive disorder, I cannot neglect the acknowledge, ment of your Christian letter. The book called The Beauties of Johnson,' is the production of I know not whom; I never saw it but by casual inspection, and considered myself as utterly disengaged from its consequences. Of the passage you mention, I remember some notice in some paper; but knowing that it must be misrepresented, I though of it no more, nor do I know where to find it in my own books. I am accustomed to think little of newspapers; but an opinion so weighty and serious as yours has determined me to do, what I should, without your seasonable admonition, have omitted: and I will direct my thought to be shewn in its true state." If I could find the passage I would direct you to it. I suppose the te nor is this:- Acute diseases are the immediate and inevitable strokes of Heaven; but of them the pain is short, and the conclusion speedy; chronical disorders, by which we are suspended in tedious torture be What follows, appeared in the Morning Chronicle of May 20, 1782. A correspondent having mentioned, in the Morning Chronicle of December 12, the last clause of the following paragraph, as seeming to favour suicide; we are requested to print the whole passage, that its true meaning may appear, which is not to recommend suicide, but exercise. "Exercise cannot secure us from that dissolution to which we are decreed; but while the soul and body continue united, it can make the association pleasing, and give probable hopes that they shall be disjoined by an easy separation. It was a principle among the ancients, that acute diseases are from Heaven, and chronical from ourselves; the dart of death, indeed, falls from Heaven, but we poison it by our own misconduct: to die is the Fate of man; but to die with lingering anguish is geneally his folly." This letter, as might be expected, had its full effect, and the clergyman acknowledged it in grateful and pious terms + The following letters require no extracts from mine to introduce them. "TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. "DEAR SIR, "THE earnestness and tenderness of your letter is such, that I cannot think myself shewing it more respect than it claims by sitting down to answer it on the day on which I received it. "This year has afflicted me with a very irksome and severe disorder. My respiration has been much impeded, and much blood has been taken away. I am now harassed by a catarrhous cough, from which my purpose is to seek relief by change of air; and I am, therefore, preparing to go to Oxford. "Whether I did right in dissuading you from coming to London this spring, I will not determine. You have not lost much by missing my company; I have scarcely been well for a single week. I might have received comfort from your kindness; but you would have seen me afflicted, and, perhaps, found me peevish. Whatever might have been your pleasure or mine, I know not how I could have honestly advised you to come hither with borrowed money. Do not accustom yourself to consider debt only as an inconvenience; you will find it a calamity. Poverty takes away so many means of doing good, and produces so much inability to resist evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. sider a man whose fortune is very narrow; whatever be his rank by birth, or whatever his reputation by intellectual excellence, what can he do? or what evil can he prevent? That he cannot help the needy, is evident; he has nothing to spare. But, perhaps, his advice or admonition may be useful. His poverty will destroy his influence: many more can find that he is poor, than that he is wise; and few will reverence the understanding that is of so little advantage to its owner. I say nothing of the personal wretchedness of a debtor, which, however, has passed into a proverb. Of riches it is not necessary to write the praise. Con †The correspondence may be seen at length in the Gentleman's Magazine, Feb. 1786. Let it, nowever, be remembered, that he who | free choice; at any place I shall be glad to has money to spare, has it always in his see you. I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. power to benefit others; and of such power "SAM. JOHNSON. a good man must always be desirous.. I am pleased with your account of Easter. We shall meet, I hope, in autumn, both well and both cheerful; and part each the better for the other's company. "Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell, and to the young charmers. 66 I am, &c. "London, June 3, 1782." "DBAR SIR "SAM. JOHNSON. "TO MR. PERKINS. "TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. "DEAR SIR, "BEING uncertain whether I should have any call this autumn into the country, I did not immediately answer your kind letter. I have no call; but if you desire to meet me at Ashbourne, I believe I can come thither; if you had rather come to London, I can stay at Streatham: take your choice. This year has been very heavy. From the middle of January to the middle of June I was battered by one disorder after and hope still to be better. What happianother! I am now very much recovered, ness it is that Mrs. Boswell has escaped. "My Lives' are reprinting, and I have forgotten the author of Gray's character:† write immediately, and it may be perhaps yet inserted. "Of London or Ashbourne you have your "August 24, 1782." On the 30th of August, I informed him that my honoured father had died that morning; a complaint under which he had long laboured, having suddenly come to a crisis, while I was upon a visit at the seat of Sir Charles Preston, from whence I had hastened the day before, upon receiving a letter by express. "TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. "DEAR SIR, "I have struggled through this year with so much infirmity of body, and such strong whenever it appears, fills me with melanimpressions of the fragility of life, that death, choly; and I cannot hear without emotion, of the removal of any one, whom I have known, into another state. "Your father's death had every circumstance that could enable you to bear it; it was at a mature age, and it was expected; thoughts had doubtless for many years past and as his general life had been pious, his been turned upon eternity. That you did not find him sensible must doubtless grieve doubtedly that of a kind, though not of a you; his disposition towards you was unfond father. Kindness, at least actual, is in negligence or imprudence you had extinour power, but fondness is not; and if by rekindle it. Nothing then remained beguished his fondness, he could not at wil tween you but mutual forgiveness of each other's faults, and mutual desire of each other's happiness. "I shall long to know his final disposition of his fortune. "You, dear Sir, have now a new station, and have therefore new cares, and new enployments. Life, as Cowley seems to say, ought to resemble a well-ordered poem; of which one rule generally received is, that the exordium should be simple, and should life with the least show, and the least expromise little. Begin your new course of pense possible; you may at pleasure increase both, but you cannot easily diminish them. Do not think your estate your own, while any man can call upon you for money which not to be in any man's debt. you cannot pay: therefore, begin with timerous parsimony. Let it be your first care future state, the present life seems hardy "When the thoughts are extended to s worthy of all those principles of conduc and maxims of prudence, which one gene but upon a closer view, when it is perceived ration of men has transmitted to another: how much evil is produced, and how much good is impeded by embarrassment and d tress, and how little room the expedients of poverty leave for the exercise of virtue, a grows manifest that the boundless impr tance of the next life enforces some attention | to the interest of this. "Be kind to the old servants, and secure the kindness of the agents and factors; do not disgust them by asperity, or unwelcome gaiety, or apparent suspicion. From them you must learn the real state of your affairs, the characters of your tenants, and the value of your lands. "Make my compliments to Mrs. Boswell; I think her expectations from air and exercise are the best that she can form. I hope she will live long and happily. "I forgot whether I told you that Rasay has been here; we dined cheerfully together. I entertained lately a young gentleman from Corrichatachin. "I received your letters only this morning. I am, dear Sir, "Yours, &c. "London, Sept. 7, 1782." "SAM. JOHNSON. In answer to my next letter, I received one from him, dissuading me from hastening to him, as I had proposed; what is proper for publication is the following paragraph, equally just and tender: "One expense, however, I would not have you to spare; let nothing be omitted that can preserve Mrs. Boswell, though it should be necessary to transplant her for a time into a softer climate. She is the prop and stay of your life. How much must children suffer by losing her." your My wife was now so much convinced of his sincere friendship for me, and regard for her, that, without any suggestion on my part, she wrote him a very polite, and grateful letter. 66 DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. BOSWELL. "DEAR LADY, "I HAVE not often received so much pleasure as from your invitation to Auchinleck. The journey thither and back is, indeed, too great for the latter part of the year; but if my health were fully recovered, I would suffer no little heat and cold, nor a wet or a rough road to keep me from you. I am, indeed, not without hope of seeing Auchinleck again; but to make it a pleasant place I must see its lady well, and brisk, and airy. For my sake, therefore, among many greater reasons, take care, dear Madam, of your health; spare no expense, and want no attendance that can procure ease, or preserve it. Be very careful to keep your mind quiet; and do not think it too much to give an account of your recovery to, Madam, "Yours, &c. **London, Sept. 7, 1782." "SAM. JOHNSON. "TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. ** DEAR SIR, "HAVING passed almost this whole year in a succession of disorders, I went in October to Brighthelmstone, whither I came in a state of so much weakness, that I rested four times in walking between the inn and the lodging. By physic and abstinence I grew better, and am now reasonably easy, though at a great distance from health. I am afraid, however, that health begins, after seventy, and long before, to have a meaning different from that which it had at thirty. But it is culpable to murmur at the established order of the creation, as it is vain to oppose it; he that lives, must grow old; and he that would rather grow old than die, has GOD to thank for the infirmities of old age. "At your long silence I am rather angry. You do not, since now you are the head of your house, think it worth your while to try whether you or your friend can live longer without writing, nor suspect that after so many years of friendship, that when I do not write to you, I forget you. Put all such useless jealousies out of your head, and disdain to regulate your own practice by the practice of another, or by any other principle than the desire of doing right. "Your economy, I suppose, begins now to be settled; your expenses are adjusted to your revenue, and all your people in their proper places. Resolve not to be poor: whatever you have, spend less. Poverty is a great enemy to human happiness; it certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable, and others extremely difficult. “Let me know the history of your life, since your accession to your estate. How many houses, how many cows, how much land in your own hand, and what bargains you make with your tenants. "Of my 'Lives of the Poets,' they have printed a new edition in octavo, I hear, of three thousand. Did I give a set to Lord Hailes? If I did not, I will do it out of these. What did you make of all your copy? Mrs. Thrale and the three Misses are now for the winter, in Argyll-street. Sir Joshua Reynolds has been out of order, but is well again; and I am, dear Sir, "Your affectionate humble servant, "SAM. JOHNSON. "London, Dec. 7, 1782." "TO DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. "DEAR SIR, Edinburgh, Dec. 20, 1782. "I was made happy by your kind letter, which gave us the agreeable hopes of seeing you in Scotland again. "I am much flattered by the concern you are pleased to take in my recovery. I am better, and hope to have it in my power to convince you, by my attention, of how much consequence I esteem your health to the world and to myself. I re- "Your obliged and obedient servant, The death of Mr. Thrale had made a very material alteration with respect to Johnson's reception in that family. The manly authority of the husband no longer curbed the lively exuberance of the lady and as her vanity had been fully gratified, by having the Colossus of Literature attached to her for many years, she gradually became less assiduous to please him. Whether her attachment to him was already divided by another object, I am unable to ascertain; but it is plain that Johnson's penetration was alive to her neglect or forced attention; for on the 6th of October this year, we find him making a "parting use of the library" at Streatham, and pronouncing a prayer which he composed on leaving Mrs. Thrale's family. Almighty GoD, Father of all mercy, help me by thy grace that I may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the comforts and conveniences which I have enjoyed at this place; and that I may resign them with holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when Thou givest, and when Thou takest away. Have mercy upon me, O LORD, have mercy upon me. "To thy fatherly protection, O LORD, I commend this family. Bless, guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through this world. as finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting happiness, for JESUS CHRIST's sake. Amen.' One cannot read this prayer, without some emotions not very favourable to the lady whose conduct occasioned it. In one of his memorandum-books I find "Sunday, went to church at Streatham. Templo valedixi cum osculo." He met Mr. Philip Metcalfe often at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, and other places, and was a good deal with him at Brighthelmstone this autumn, being pleased at once with his excellent table and animated conversation. Mr. Metcalfe shewed him great respect, and sent him a note that he might have the use of his carriage whenever he pleased. Johnson (3d October, 1762) returned this polite answer:-" Mr. Johnson is very much obliged by the kind offer of the carriage, but he has no desire of using Mr. Metcalfe's carriage, except when he can have the pleasure of Mr. Metcalfe's company." Mr. Metcalfe could not but be highly pleased that his company was thus valued by Johnson, and he frequently attended him in airings. They also went together to Chichester, and they visited Petworth and Cowdry, the venerable seat of • Prayers and Meditations, p. 214. "Sir, (said Johnthe Lords Montacute.+ son,) I should like to stay here four-and twenty-hours. We see here how our ancestors lived." That his curiosity was still unabated, appears from two letters to Mr. John Nichols, of the 10th and 20th of October this year. In one he "I have looked into your says, Anecdotes, and you will hardly thank a lover of literary history for telling you, that he has been much informed and gratified. I wish you would add your own dis coveries and intelligence to those of Dr. Rawlinson, and undertake the Supplement to Wood. Think of it. In the other, "I wish, Sir, you could obtain some fuller information of Jortin, Markland, and Thirl by. They were three contemporaries of great eminence." "TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. "DEAR SIR, "I HEARD yesterday of your late disorder, and should think ill of myself if I had heard of it without alarm. I heard likewise of your recovery, which I sincerely wish to be complete and permanent. Your country has been in danger of losing one of its brightest ornaments, and I of losing one of my oldest and kindest friends; but I hope you will still live long, for the honour of the nation; and that more enjoyment of your elegance, your intelligence, and your benevolence, is still reserved for, dear Sur, your most affectionate, &c. "SAM. JOHNSON. "Brighthelmstone, Nov. 14, 1782." The Reverend Mr. Wilson having dedicated to him his " Archæological Dictionary," that mark of respect was thus acknowledged: "TO THE REVEREND MR. WILSON, CLITHEROE, LANCASHIRE. "REVEREND SIR, "THAT I have long omitted to return you thanks for the honour conferred upon me by your Dedication, I entreat you with great earnestness not to consider as more faulty than it is. A very importunate and oppressive disorder has for some time debarred me from the pleasures, and obstrac ted me in the duties of life. The este and kindness of wise and good men is one of the last pleasures which I can be c tent to lose; and gratitude to those from whom this pleasure is received, is a ty of which I hope never to be reproached with the final neglect. I therefore now return you thanks for the notice wid I have received from you, and which I es sider as giving to my name not only mee bulk, but more weight; not only as extené ing its superficies, but as increasing its va [This venerable mansion has since been tomily stroyed by fire. M.] |