permission to show you, on condition you will hide them from everybody else.—I am, dear sir, etc.,

'[London,] June 1, 1758.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.

TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., OF TRINITY COLLEGE

OXFORD

'DEAR SIR,-Though I might have expected to hear from you, upon your entrance into a new state of life at a new place, yet recollecting (not without some degree of shame) that I owe you a letter upon an old account, I think it my part to write first. This, indeed, I do not only from complaisance but from interest; for living on in the old way, I am very glad of a correspondent so capable as yourself to diversify the hours. You have, at present, too many novelties about you to need any help from me to drive along your time. 'I know not anything more pleasant, or more instructive, than to compare experience with expectation, or to register from time to time the difference between idea and reality. It is by this kind of observation that we grow daily less liable to be disappointed. You, who are very capable of anticipating futurity, and raising phantoms before your own eyes, must often have imagined to yourself an academical life, and have conceived what would be the manners, the views, and the conversation, of men devoted to letters; how they would choose their companions, how they would direct their studies, and how they would regulate their lives. Let me know what you expected, and what you have found. At least record it to yourself before custom has reconciled you to the scenes before you, and the disparity of your discoveries to your hopes has vanished from your mind. It is a rule never to be forgotten, that whatever strikes strongly should be described while the first impression remains fresh upon the mind.

'I love, dear sir, to think on you, and, therefore, should willingly write more to you, but that the post will not now give me leave to do more than send my compliments to Mr. Warton, and tell you that I am, dear sir, most affectionately, your very humble servant SAM. JOHNSON.

'June 28, 1758.'

TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ., AT LANGTON, NEAR SPILSBY,

LINCOLNSHIRE

'DEAR SIR,-I should be sorry to think that what engrosses the attention of my friend, should have no part of mine. Your mind is now full of 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

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 well-known 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.

may be derived from error, must be, like its original, fallacious and fugitive.-I am, dear, dear sir, your most humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.

'Sept. 21, 1758.'

In 1759, in the month of January, his mother died, at the great age of ninety, an event which deeply affected him; not that his mind had acquired no firmness by the contemplation of mortality; but that his reverential affection for her was not abated by years, as indeed he retained all his tender feelings even to the latest period of his life. I have been told that he regretted much his not having gone to visit his mother for several years previous to her death. But he was constantly engaged in literary labours which confined him to London; and though he had not the comfort of seeing his aged parent, he contributed liberally to her support.

TO MRS. JOHNSON, AT LICHFIELD

2

'HONOURED MADAM,-The account which Miss [Porter] gives me of your health, pierces my heart. God comfort and preserve you, and save you, for the sake of Jesus Christ.

'I would have Miss read to you from time to time the Passion of our Saviour, and sometimes the sentences in the communion service, beginning-Come unto me all that travail and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

'I have just now read a physical book, which inclines me to think that a strong infusion of the bark would do you good. Do, dear mother, try it.

Pray send me your blessing, and forgive all that I have

1 Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 395.

2 [Since the publication of the third edition of this work, the following letters of Dr. Johnson, occasioned by the last illness of his mother, were obligingly communicated to Mr. Malone by the Rev. Dr. Vyse. They are placed here agreeably to the chronological order almost uniformly observed by the author; and so strongly evince Dr. Johnson's piety and tenderness of heart, that every reader must be gratified by their insertion.-M.]

done amiss to you. And whatever you would have done, and what debts you would have paid first, or anything else that you would direct, let Miss put it down; I shall endeavour to obey you.

'I have got twelve guineas 1 to send you, but unhappily am at a loss how to send it to-night. If I cannot send it to-night, it will come by the next post.

'Pray, do not admit anything mentioned in this letter. God bless you for ever and ever. I am, your dutiful son, 'SAM. JOHNSON.

'Jan. 13, 1758.' 2

TO MISS PORTER, AT MRS. JOHNSON'S, IN LICHFIELD 'MY DEAR MISS,-I think myself obliged to you beyond all expression of gratitude for your care of my dear mother. God grant it may not be without success. Tell Kitty that I shall never forget her tenderness for her mistress. Whatever you can do, continue to do. My heart is very full.

3

'I hope you received twelve guineas on Monday. I found a way of sending them by means of the postmaster, after I had written my letter, and hope they came safe. I will send you more in a few days. God bless you all.—I am, my dear, your most obliged and most humble servant,

'Jan. 16, 1759.

'Over the leaf is a letter to my mother.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.

'DEAR HONOURED MOTHER,-Your weakness afflicts me beyond what I am willing to communicate to you. I do not

1 [Six of these twelve guineas Johnson appears to have borrowed from Mr. Allen, the printer. See Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 266, n. -M.]

2 [Written by mistake for 1759, as the subsequent letters show. In the next letter, he had inadvertently fallen into the same error, but corrected it. On the outside of the letter of the 13th was written by another hand-'Pray acknowledge the receipt of this by return of post without fail.'-M.]

3 [Catharine Chambers, Mrs. Johnson's maid-servant. She died in October 1767. See Dr. Johnson's Prayers and Meditations: 'Sunday, Oct. 18, 1767. Yesterday, Oct. 17, I took my leave for ever of my dear old friend, Catharine Chambers, who came to live with my mother about 1724, and has been but little parted from us since. She buried my father, my brother, and my mother. She is now fifty-eight years old.'-M.]

think you unfit to face death, but I know not how to bear the thought of losing you. Endeavour to do all you [can] for yourself. Eat as much as you can.

'I pray often for you; do you pray for me.-I have nothing to add to my last letter.-I am, dear, dear mother, your dutiful SAM JOHNSON.

son,

'Jan. 16, 1759.'

TO MRS. JOHNSON, IN LICHFIELD

'DEAR HONOURED MOTHER, -I fear you are too ill for long letters; therefore I will only tell you, you have from me all the regard that can possibly subsist in the heart. I pray God to bless you for evermore, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. 'Let Miss write to me every post, however short.—I am, dear mother, your dutiful son, SAM. JOHNSON.

'Jan. 18, 1759.'

TO MISS PORTER, AT MRS. JOHNSON'S, IN LICHFIELD 'DEAR MISS,-I will, if it be possible, come down to you. God grant I may yet [find] my dear mother breathing and sensible. Do not tell her, lest I disappoint her. If I miss to write next post, I am on the road.—I am, my dearest Miss, your most humble servant, SAM. JOHNSON.

'Jan. 20, 1759.

On the other side.

'DEAR HONOURED MOTHER,1-Neither your condition nor your character make it fit for me to say much. You have been the best mother, and I believe the best woman in the world. I thank you for your indulgence to me, and beg forgiveness of all that I have done ill, and all that I have omitted to do well.2 God grant you his Holy Spirit, and

1 [This letter was written on the second leaf of the preceding, addressed to Miss Porter.-M.]

2 [So, in the prayer which he composed on this occasion: 'Almighty God, merciful Father, in whose hands are life and death, sanctify unto me the sorrow which I now feel. Forgive me whatever I have done unkindly to my mother, and whatever I have omitted to do kindly. Make me to remember her good precepts and good example, and to reform my life according to thy holy word,' etc.-Prayers and Meditations.-M.]