316 MRS. BOSWELL'S MARMALADE. your jar of marmalade arose from eating it. 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." The reconciliation is now perfect: the marmalade has filled the breach. "DEAR SIR, "TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. "Aug. 30, 1777. "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. "On Saturday I wrote a very short letter, immediately upon my arrival hither, to show you that I am not less desirous of the THE DOCTOR AT ASHBOURNE. 317 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. 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, time, and woman's breast ;' 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 to dinner. I have brought the papers about poor Dodd, to show you, but you will soon have despatched 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 318 PROPOSED “LITTLE ADVENTURE.” 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." "Some other little adventure! Boswell had, some years ago, proposed an expedition to the Baltic; and the Doctor's mind was still actually running upon that, as appears from the following to Mrs. Thrale: "Boswell, I believe, is coming. He talks of being here to-day. I shall be glad to see him; but he shrinks from the Baltic expedition, which, I think, is the best scheme in our power. What we shall substitute, I know not. He wants to see Wales; but, except the woods of Bachycraigh, what is there in Wales that can fill the hunger of ignorance, or quench the thirst of curiosity? We may, perhaps, form some scheme or other; but in the phrase of 'Hockley in the Hole,' it is pity he has not a better bottom." That would have been a "little adventure" indeed for a gentleman close upon his seventy-eighth year! But one is constantly made to feel that this man ought to have lasted for ever; and would but for that sorry "physical basis of life," upon which no eternal superstructure can be reared. AFTER passing some time at Oxford and Lichfield, Johnson had arrived at Ashbourne, the residence of his old schoolfellow, the Rev. Dr. Taylor, on the 30th of August, and he remained there till well on in November. Boswell arrived a fortnight later. Though the two Doctors differed in many important respects, their regard for each other seems to have been very real of its kind. Still, they were wont to express themselves pretty freely of one another when time and place agreed. Of Taylor the Doctor would say: "Sir, I love him; but I do not love him more; my regard for him does not increase. As it is said in the Apocrypha, 'his talk is of bullocks.' I do not suppose he is very fond of my company. His habits are by no means sufficiently clerical; this he knows that I see; and no man likes to live under the eye of perpetual disapprobation." It is shrewdly suspected, moreover, that some of the reverend gentleman's sermons were written by our Author; at all events, Johnson's diary takes note of one"Concio pro Tayloro." Of the Doctor, on the other hand, Taylor would say: "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." But if Taylor's talk was only "of bullocks," what more fitting reply than a good round roar? The truth is, the Reverend Doctor bored the Literary Doctor, and Johnson was much better pleased when his friend happened to be from home than when he was at full liberty to bestow all his tediousness upon his guest. This monotony was occasionally relieved, however, by 320 some good conversation-parties and several pleasant excursions to neighbouring places of interest. Those gentlemen whom Taylor gathered together to do honour to his great friend were not all frightened; though it did happen, now and then, that some timid mortal, struck more by the Doctor's strong voice and strange manner than by anything more inward, would leave the formidable presence, exclaiming, "He's a tremendous companion." “HE'S A TREMENDOUS COMPANION.” This must have been the verdict of a gentleman-farmer who, one evening, desperately attempted to defend an English yeoman, Mungo Campbell by name, who had shot the Earl of Eglintoune, under circumstances which it is unnecessary to detail. Said the farmer, "I should have done just as Campbell did."-JOHNSON: "Whoever would do as Campbell did deserves to be hanged; not that I could, as a juryman, have found him legally guilty of murder; but I am glad they found means to convict him." The gentleman-farmer retorted, "A poor man has as much honour as a rich man, and Campbell had that to defend." Johnson exclaimed, "A poor man has no honour." The English yeoman, undismayed, proceeded: "Lord Eglintoune was a damned fool to run on upon Campbell, after being warned that Campbell would shoot him if he did." Johnson, who could not bear anything like swearing, angrily replied, "He was not a damned fool: he only thought too well of Campbell. He did not believe Campbell would be such a damned scoundrel, as to do so damned a thing." This was the Doctor's way of rebuking the practice of profane swearing; and it was a thoroughly characteristic way. On another evening, however, this gentleman was more fortunate in his endeavours to entertain our Author. He and two others treated themselves and the company to a whole host of tunes on the violin: Johnson was pleased to encore “Let ambition fire thy mind," this tune having struck his fancy in some mysterious manner-mysterious, for the Doctor was, by his own confession, entirely devoid of a musical sense. BOSWELL [on the above evening]: "Music affects me to such a degree as often to agitate my nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate sensations of pathetic dejection, so that I am ready to shed tears; and of daring resolution, so that I am inclined to rush |