his researches were not so ample, and his investigations so acute, as they might have been; which we now certainly know from the labours of other able and ingenious critics who have followed him. He has enriched his edition with a concise account of each play, and of its characteristic excellence. Many of his notes have illustrated obscurities in the text, and placed passages eminent for beauty in a more conspicuous light; and he has, in general, exhibited such a mode of annotation as may be beneficial to all subsequent editors.

His Shakspeare was virulently attacked by Mr. William Kenrick, who obtained the degree of LL.D. from a Scotch University, and wrote for the booksellers in a great variety of branches.

Though he certainly was not without considerable merit, he wrote with so little regard to decency, and principles, and decorum, and in so hasty a manner, that his reputation was neither extensive nor lasting. I remember one evening, when some of his works were mentioned, Dr. Goldsmith said he had never heard of them; upon which Dr. Johnson observed, 'Sir, he is one of the many who have made themselves public without making themselves known.' A young student of Oxford, of the name of Barclay, wrote an answer to Kenrick's review of Johnson's Shakspeare. Johnson was at first angry that Kenrick's attack should have the credit of an answer; but afterwards, consider ing the young man's good intention, he kindly noticed him, and probably would have done more had not the young man died.

In his Preface to Shakspeare, Johnson treated Voltaire very contemptuously, observing, upon some of his remarks, 'These are the petty cavils of petty minds.' Voltaire, in revenge, made an attack upon Johnson in one of his numerous literary sallies, which I remember to have read; but there being no general index to his volumi nous works, have searched in vain, and therefore cannot quote it.

Voltaire was an antagonist with whom I thought Johnson should not disdain to contend. I pressed him to answer. He said he perhaps might; but he never did.

Mr. Burney having occasion to write to Johnson for some receipts for subscriptions to his Shakspeare, which Johnson had omitted to deliver when the money was paid, he availed himself of that opportunity of thanking Johnson for the great pleasure which he had received from the perusal of his Preface to Shakspeare, which, although it excited much clamour against him at first, is now justly ranked among the most excellent of his writings. To this letter Johnson returned the following answer :

'TO CHARLES BURNEY, ESQ., IN POLAND STREET. 'SIR, I am sorry that your kindness to me has brought upon you so much trouble, though you have taken care to abate that sorrow by

the pleasure which I receive from your approbation. I defend my criticism in the same manner with you. We must confess the faults of our favourite to gain credit to our praise of his excellences. He that claims, either in himself or for another, the honours of perfection, will surely injure the reputation which he designs to assist. 'Be pleased to make my compliments to your family. I am, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.

'Oct. 16, 1765.'

From one of his journals I transcribed what follows:

At church, Oct.-65.

'To avoid all singularity. Bonaventura.' "To come in before service, and compose my mind by meditation, or by reading some portions of Scripture. Tetty.

'If I can hear the sermon, to attend it, unless attention be more troublesome than useful.

'To consider the act of prayer as a reposal of myself upon God, and a resignation of all into his holy hand."

In 1764 and 1765 it should seem that Dr. Johnson was so busily employed with his edition of Shakspeare as to have had little leisure for any other literary exertion, or indeed even for private correspondence. He did not favour me with a single letter for more than two years, for which it will appear that he afterwards apologized,

He was, however, at all times ready to give assistance to his friends and others in revising their works, and in writing for them, or greatly improving their Dedications. In that courtly species of composition no man excelled Dr. Johnson.

Though the loftiness of his mind prevented him from ever dedicating in his own person, he wrote a very great number of Dedications for others. Some of these, the persons who were favoured with them are unwilling should be mentioned, from a too anxious apprehension, as I think, that they might be suspected of having received larger assistance; and some, after all the diligence I have bestowed, have escaped my inquiries. He told me a great many years ago, he believed he had dedicated to all the Royal Family round; and it was indifferent to him what was the subject of the work dedicated, provided it were innocent. He once dedicated some music for the German flute to Edward Duke of York. In writing Dedications for others, he considered himself as

by no means speaking his own sentiments.

Notwithstanding his long silence, I never omitted to write to him when I had anything worthy of communicating. I generally kept copies of my letters to him, that I might have a full view of our correspondence, and never be at a loss to understand any reference in his

1 He was probably proposing to hìm of this excellent person, who for the Seraphic Doctor-Bosw

smoothly; while those of more attention have been as much perplexed by Luke as by Lydiat in The Vanity of Human Wishes. The truth is, that Goldsmith himself was in a mistake. In the 'Respublica Hungarica' there is an account of a desperate rebellion in the year 1514, headed by two brothers of the name of Zeck, George and Luke. When it was quelled, George, not Luke, was punished by his head being encircled with a red-hot iron crown: Coronâ candescente ferred coronatur.' The same severity of torture was exercised on the Earl of Athol, one of the murderers of King James I. of Scotland.

Dr. Johnson at the same time favoured me by marking the lines which he furnished to Goldsmith's Deserted Village, which are only the last four:

'That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away; While self-dependent power can time defy, As rocks resist the billows and the sky.' Talking of education, 'People have now-adays,' said he, 'got a strange opinion that everything should be taught by lectures. Now I cannot see that lectures can do so much good as reading the books from which the lectures are taken. I know nothing that can be best taught by lectures, except where experiments are to be shown. You may teach chymistry by lectures: you may teach making of shoes by lectures!'

At night I supped with him at the Mitre tavern, that we might renew our social intimacy at the original place of meeting. But there was now a considerable difference in his way of living. Having had an illness, in which he was advised to leave off wine, he had from that period continued to abstain from it, and drink only water or lemonade.

I told him that a foreign friend of his, whom I had met with abroad, was so wretchedly perverted to infidelity that he treated the hopes of immortality with brutal levity; and said, 'As man dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog.' JOHNSON: 'If he dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog.' I added that this man said to me, 'I hate mankind, for I think myself one of the best of them, and I know how bad I am.' JOHNSON: 'Sir, he must be very singular in his opinion, if he thinks himself one of the best of men, for none of his friends think him so.'-He said, 'No honest man could be a Deist, for no man could be so after a fair examination of the proofs of Christianity.' I named Hume. JOHNSON: 'No, sir; Hume owned to a clergyman in the bishopric of Durham that he had never read the New Testament with attention.'-I mentioned Hume's notion, that all who are happy are equally happy; a little Miss with a new gown at a dancing-school ball, a general at the head of a victorious army, and an orator after having made an eloquent speech in a great assembly. JOHNSON: 'Sir, that all who are happy are equally happy, is not true. A peasant

and a philosopher may be equally satisfied, but not equally happy. Happiness consists in the multiplicity of agreeable consciousness. A peasant has not capacity for having equal happiness with a philosopher.' I remember this very question very happily illustrated in opposition to Hume, by the Rev. Mr. Robert Brown, at Utrecht. 'A small drinking-glass and a large one,' said he, may be equally full; but the large one holds more than the small.'

Dr. Johnson was very kind this evening, and said to me, 'You have now lived five-and-twenty years, and you have employed them well.' 'Alas, sir,' said I, 'I fear not. Do I know history? Do I know mathematics? Do I know law?' JOHNSON: Why, sir, though you may know no science so well as to be able to teach it, and no profession so well as to be able to follow it, your general mass of knowledge of books and men renders you very capable to make yourself master of any science, or fit yourself for any profession.' I mentioned that a gay friend had advised me against being a lawyer, because I should be excelled by plodding blockheads. JOHNSON: Why, sir, in the formulary and statutory part of law, a plodding blockhead may excel; but in the ingenious and rational part of it a plodding blockhead can never excel.'

I talked of the mode adopted by some to rise in the world, by courting great men, and asked him whether he had ever submitted to it. JOHNSON: Why, sir, I never was near enough to great men to court them. You may be prudently attached to great men, and yet independent. You are not to do what you think wrong; and, sir, you are to calculate, and not to pay too dear for what you get. You must not give a shilling's worth of court for sixpence worth of good. if you can get a shilling's worth of good for sixpence worth of court, you are a fool if you do not pay court.'

But

He said, 'If convents should be allowed at all, they should only be retreats for persons unable to serve the public, or who have served it. It is our first duty to serve society; and after we have done that, we may attend wholly to the salvation of our own souls. A youthful passion for abstracted devotion should not be encouraged.'

I introduced the subject of second sight, and other mysterious manifestations; the fulfilment of which, I suggested, might happen by chance. JOHNSON: 'Yes, sir, but they have happened so often, that mankind have agreed to think them not fortuitous.'

I talked to him a great deal of what I had seen in Corsica, and of my intention to publish an account of it. He encouraged me by saying, 'You cannot go to the bottom of the subject; but all that you tell us will be new to us. Give us as many anecdotes as you can.'

Our next meeting at the Mitre was on Saturday the 15th of February, when I presented to him my old and most intimate friend, the Rev.

Mr. Temple, then of Cambridge. I having mentioned that I had passed some time with Rousseau in his wild retreat, and having quoted some remark made by Mr. Wilkes, with whom I had spent many pleasant hours in Italy, Johnson said, sarcastically, 'It seems, sir, you have kept very good company abroad-Rousseau and Wilkes!' Thinking it enough to defend one at a time, I said nothing as to my gay friend, but answered with a smile, 'My dear sir, you don't call Rousseau bad company. Do you really think him a bad man?' JOHNSON: 'Sir, if you are talking jestingly of this, I don't talk with you. If you mean to be serious, I think him one of the worst of men; a rascal, who ought to be hunted out of society, as he has been. Three or four nations have expelled him, and it is a shame that he is protected in this country.' BOSWELL: 'I don't deny, sir, but that his novel may perhaps do harm; but I cannot think his intention was bad.' JOHNSON: 'Sir, that will not do. We cannot prove any man's intention to be bad. You may shoot a man through the head, and say you intended to miss him; but the judge will order you to be hanged. An alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed in a court of justice. Rousseau, sir, is a very bad man. I would sooner sign a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the Old Bailey these many years. Yes, I should like to have him work in the plantations.' BOSWELL: Sir, do you think him as bad a man as Voltaire?' JOHNSON: Why, sir, it is difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity between them.'

This violence seemed very strange to me, who had read many of Rousseau's animated writings with great pleasure, and even edification; had been much pleased with his society, and was just come from the Continent, where he was very generally admired. Nor can I yet allow that he deserves the very severe censure which Johnson pronounced upon him. His absurd preference of savage to civilised life, and other singularities, are proofs rather of a defect in his understanding, than of any depravity in his heart. And notwithstanding the unfavourable opinion which many worthy men have expressed of his Profession de Foi du Vicaire Savoyard, I cannot help admiring it as the performance of a man full of sincere reverential submission to Divine Mystery, though beset with perplexing doubts: a state of mind to be viewed with pity rather than with anger.

On his favourite subject of subordination, Johnson said, 'So far is it from being true that men are naturally equal, that no two people can be half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evident superiority over the other.'

I mentioned the advice given us by philosophers, to console ourselves, when distressed or embarrassed, by thinking of those who are

in a worse situation than ourselves. This, I observed, could not apply to all, for there must be some who have nobody worse than they are. JOHNSON: Why, to be sure, sir, there are; but they don't know it. There is no being so poor and so contemptible, who does not think there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible.'

As my stay in London at this time was very short, I had not many opportunities of being with Dr. Johnson; but I felt my veneration for him in no degree lessened by my having seen multorum hominum mores et urbes. On the contrary, by having it in my power to compare him with many of the most celebrated persons of other countries, my admiration of his extraordinary mind was increased and confirmed.

The roughness, indeed, which sometimes appeared in his manners was more striking to me now, from my having been accustomed to the studied, smooth, complying habits of the Continent; and I clearly recognised in him, not without respect for his honest conscientious zeal, the same indignant and sarcastical mode of treating every attempt to unhinge or weaken good principles.

One evening, when a young gentleman teased him with an account of the infidelity of his servant, who he said would not believe the Scriptures, because he could not read them in the original tongues, and be sure that they were not invented: 'Why, foolish fellow,' said Johnson, 'has he any better authority for almost everything that he believes?' BOSWELL: 'Then the vulgar, sir, never can know they are right, but must submit themselves to the learned.' JOHNSON: 'To be sure, sir. The vulgar are the children of the State, and must be taught like children.' BOSWELL: Then, sir, a poor Turk must be a Mahometan, just as a poor Englishman must be a Christian?' JOHNSON: Why, yes, sir; and what then? This, now, is such stuff as I used to talk to my mother, when I first began to think myself a clever fellow; and she ought to have whipt me for it.'

Another evening Dr. Goldsmith and I called on him with the hope of prevailing on him to sup with us at the Mitre. We found him indisposed, and resolved not to go abroad. 'Come, then,' said Goldsmith, we will not go to the Mitre to-night, since we cannot have the big man with us.' Johnson then called for a bottle of port, of which Goldsmith and I partook, while our friend, now a water drinker, sat by us. GOLDSMITH: 'I think, Mr. Johnson, you don't go near the theatres now. You give yourself no more concern about a new play than if you had never had anything to do with the stage. JOHNSON: Why, sir, our tastes greatly alter.' The lad does not care for the child's rattle, and the old man does not care for the young man's whore.' GOLDSMITH: Nay, sir, but your muse was not a whore.' JOHNSON: 'Sir, I do not

K