a sentiment or image which has been found in the writings of another, and afterwards appears in the mind as one's own, is not unfrequent. The richness of Johnson's fancy, which could supply his page abundantly on all occasions, and the strength of his memory, which at once detected the real owner of any thought, made him less liable to the imputation of plagiarism than, perhaps, any of our writers. In the "Idler," however, there is a paper, in which conversation is assimilated to a bowl of punch, where there is the same train of comparison as in a poem by Blacklock, in his collection published in 1756; in which a parallel is ingeniously drawn between human life and that liquor. It ends,— "Say, then, physicians of each kind, To the "Idler," when collected in volumes, he added, beside the "Essay on Epitaphs," and the Dissertation on those of Pope, an "Essay on the Bravery of the English Common Soldiers." He, however, omitted one of the original papers, which in the folio copy is No. 22.1 TO THE REV. MR. THOMAS WARTON. "DEAR SIR, "[London,] April 14. 1758. "Your notes upon my poet were very acceptable. I beg that you will be so kind as to continue your searches. It will be reputable to my work, and suitable to your professorship, to have something of yours in the notes. As you have given no directions about your name, I shall therefore put it. I wish your brother would take the same trouble. A commentary must arise from the fortuitous discoveries of many men in devious walks of literature. Some of your remarks are on plays already printed: but I purpose to add an Appendix of Notes, so that nothing comes too late. 1 This paper may be found in Stockdale's supplemental volume of Johnson's Miscellaneous Pieces, London, 1788, p. 244 et seqq. 1 "You give yourself too much uneasiness, dear Sir, about the loss of the papers. The loss is nothing, if nobody has found them; nor even then, perhaps, if the numbers be known. You are not the only friend that has had the same mischance. You may repair your want out of a stock, which is deposited with Mr. Allen, of Magdalen Hall; or out of a parcel which I have just sent to Mr. Chambers, for the use of any body that will be so kind as to want them. Mr. Langtons are well; and Miss Roberts, whom I have at last brought to speak, upon the information which you gave me, that she had something to say. I am, &c. "SAM. JOHNSON." TO THE SAME. "London, June 1. 1758. "DEAR SIR, "You will receive this by Mr. Baretti, a gentleman particularly entitled to the notice and kindness of the professor of poesy. He has time but for a short stay, and will be glad to have it filled up with as much as he can hear and see. "In recommending another to your favour, I ought not to omit thanks for the kindness which you have shown to myself. Have you any more notes on Shakspeare? I shall be glad of them. "I see your pupil 2 sometimes; his mind is as exalted as his stature. I am half afraid of him; but he is no less amiable than formidable. He will, if the forwardness of his spring be not blasted, be a credit to you, and to the University. He brings some of my plays with him, which he has my permission to show you, on condition you will hide them from every body else. I am, dear Sir, &c. "SAM. JOHNSON." 3 TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR SPILSBY, LINCOLNSHIRE.' "DEAR SIR, "Sep. 21. 1758. "I should be sorry to think that what engrosses the attention of my friend, should have no part of mine. 1 Receipts for Shakspeare.-Warton. Your mind is now full of 2 Mr. Langton.-Warton. 3 Part of the impression of the Shakspeare, which Dr. Johnson conducted alone, and published by subscription. This edition came out in 1765.-Warton. * Inserted in the third edition, vol. i., p. 299.-Editor. the fate of Dury; but his fate is past, and nothing remains but to try what reflection will suggest to mitigate the terrors of a violent death, which is more formidable at the first glance, than on a nearer and more steady view. A violent death is never very painful; the only danger is, lest it should be unprovided. But if a man can be supposed to make no provision for death in war, what can be the state that would have awakened him to the care of futurity? When would that man have prepared himself to die, who went to seek death without preparation? What then can be the reason why we lament more him that dies of a wound, than him that dies of a fever? A man that languishes with disease, ends his life with more pain, but with less virtue he leaves no example to his friends, nor bequeaths any honour to his descendants. The only reason why we lament a soldier's death, is, that we think he might have lived longer; yet this cause of grief is common to many other kinds of death, which are not so passionately bewailed. The truth is, that every death is violent which is the effect of accident; every death which is not gradually brought on by the miseries of age, or when life is extinguished for any other reason than that it is burnt out. He that dies before sixty, of a cold or consumption, dies, in reality, by a violent death; yet his death is borne with patience, only because the cause of his untimely end is silent and invisible. Let us endeavour to see things as they are, and then inquire whether we ought to complain. Whether to see life as it is, will give us much consolation, I know not; but the consolation which is drawn from truth, if any there be, is solid and durable: that which may be ⚫ derived from error, must be, like its original, fallacious and fugitive. I am, dear Sir, your most humble servant, "SAM. JOHNSON." TO THE SAME.2 "Jan. 9. 1758 (1759). "DEAREST SIR, "I must have indeed slept very fast, not to have been awakened by your letter. None of your suspicions are true; I am 1 1 Major-General Alexander Dury, of the First Regiment of Foot Guards, who fell in the gallant discharge of his duty, near St. Cas, in the wellknown unfortunate expedition against France, in 1758. His lady and Mr. Langton's mother were sisters. He left an only son, Lieutenant-Colonel Dury, who has a company in the same regiment. 2 Inserted in the third edition, vol. i., p. 287, but transposed to its present position.-Editor. not much richer than when you left me; and what is worse, my omission of an answer to your first letter will prove that I am not much wiser. But I go on as I formerly did, designing to be some time or other both rich and wise; and yet cultivate neither mind nor fortune. Do you take notice of my example and learn the danger of delay. When I was as you are now, towering in [the] confidence of twenty-one, little did I suspect that I should be, at forty-nine, what I now am. "But you do not seem to need my admonition. You are busy in acquiring and in communicating knowledge, and while you are studying, enjoy the end of study, by making others wiser and happier. I was much pleased with the tale that you told me of being tutor to your sisters. I, who have no sisters nor brothers, look with some degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends;1 and cannot see, without wonder, how rarely that native union is afterwards regarded. It sometimes, indeed, happens, that some supervenient cause of discord may overpower this original amity; but it seems to me more frequently thrown away with levity, or lost by negligence, than destroyed by injury or violence. We tell the ladies. that good wives make good husbands; I believe it is a more certain position that good brothers make good sisters. "I am satisfied with your stay at home, as Juvenal with his friend's retirement to Cuma: I know that your absence is best, though it be not best for me. 'Quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici, Laudo tamen vacuis quod sedem figere Cumis "Langton is a good Cumæ, but who must be Sibylla? Mrs. Langton is as wise as Sibyl, and as good; and will live, if my wishes can prolong life, till she shall in time be as old. But she differs in this, 1 Gibbon, in his Memoirs, alludes to this subject with good taste and feeling :-" From my childhood to the present hour, I have deeply and sincerely regretted my sister, whose life was somewhat prolonged, and whom I remember to have seen an amiable infant. The relation of a brother and a sister, particularly if they do not marry, appears to me of a very singular nature. It is a familiar and tender friendship with a female much about our own age; an affection perhaps softened by the secret influence of the sex, but pure from any mixture of sensual desire—the sole species of Platonic love that can be indulged with truth, and without danger." Miscell. Works, vol. i. p. 17. London, 1796.-Croker. 2 Sat. iii. 1-3. that she has not scattered her precepts in the wind, at least not those which she bestowed upon you. "The two Wartons just looked into the town, and were taken to see 'Cleone,' where David says, they were starved for want of company to keep them warm. David and Doddy' have had a new quarrel, and, I think, cannot conveniently quarrel any more. 'Cleone' was well acted by all the characters, but Bellamy2 left nothing to be desired. I went the first night, and supported it as well as I might; for Doddy, you know, is my patron, and I would not desert him. The play was very well received. Doddy, after the danger was over, went every night to the stage-side, and cried at the distress of poor Cleone. "I have left off housekeeping, and therefore made presents of the game which you were pleased to send me. The pheasant I gave to Mr. Richardson," the bustard to Dr. Lawrence, and the pot I placed with Miss Williams, to be eaten by myself. She desires that her compliments and good wishes may be accepted by the family; and I make the same request for myself. "Mr. Reynolds has within these few days raised his price to twenty guineas a head,' and Miss is much employed in miniatures. I know not any body [else] whose prosperity has increased since you left them. "Murphy is to have his 'Orphan of China' acted next month; and is therefore, I suppose, happy. I wish I could tell you of any great 1 Mr. Dodsley, the author of Cleone, first played 2nd Dec., 1758. 2 The well-known Miss George Ann Bellamy, who played the heroine. -Croker. 3 The author of Clarissa. At Devonport, before his visit to Italy, his price was three guineas a head; in 1752, when he first returned, it was five guineas. When he settled in London he raised his charge to twelve guineas for a head, twenty-four guineas a half-length, forty-eight guineas for a whole length. A few years later the prices were fifteen, thirty, and sixty guineas. In 1764 his prices reached the maximum of thirty, fifty, and one hundred and fifty guineas, half of which was required to be paid at the first sitting. -Particulars collected from the Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds by G. R. Leslie and Tom Taylor. Walpole-quoted by Mr. Croker-says, “Sir Joshua, in his old age, becomes avaricious. He had one thousand guineas for my picture of the three Ladies Waldegrave :" and this picture, which Walpole seems to have thought overpaid, would fetch now more than five times the original sum paid. (Walpoliana). But see Life of Reynolds, vol. ii., p. 295.-Editor. T |