words of our Saviour's solemn admonition to the improvement of that time which is allowed us to prepare for eternity; "the night cometh (1) when no man can work." He sometime afterwards laid aside this dial-plate; and when I asked him the reason, he said, "It might do very well upon a clock which a man keeps in his closet; but to have it upon his watch, which he carries about with him, and which is often looked at by others, might be censured as ostentatious." Mr. Steevens is now possessed of the dial-plate inscribed as above.

He remained at Oxford a considerable time. I was obliged to go to London, where I received this letter, which had been returned from Scotland.

LETTER 108. TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

"Oxford, March 23. 1768.

"MY DEAR BOSWELL, I have omitted a long time to write to you, without knowing very well why. I could now tell why I should not write; for who would write to men who publish the letters of their friends, without their leave? (2) Yet I write to you in spite of my caution, to tell you that I shall be glad to see you, and that I wish you would empty your head of Corsica, which I think has filled it rather too long. all events, I shall be glad, very glad, to see you. Sir, yours affectionately,

But, at

I am

"SAM. JOHNSON."

(1) [Sir Walter Scott put the same Greek words on a sundial in his garden at Abbotsford. -J. G. L.]

(2) Mr. Boswell, in his "Journal of a Tour in Corsica," had printed the second and third paragraphs of Johnson's letter to him of January 14. 1766. See ante, Vol. II. p. 305. —C.

"London, April 26. 1768.

"MY DEAR SIR, I have received your last letter, which, though very short, and by no means complimentary, yet gave me real pleasure, because it contains these words, 'I shall be glad, very glad, to see you.' Surely you have no reason to complain of my publishing a single paragraph of one of your letters; the temptation to it was so strong. An irrevocable grant of your friendship, and your signifying my desire of visiting Corsica with the epithet of a wise and noble curiosity,' are to me more valuable than many of the grants of kings.

"But how can you bid me 'empty my head of Corsica?' My noble-minded friend, do you not feel for an oppressed nation bravely struggling to be free? Consider fairly what is the case. The Corsicans never received any kindness from the Genoese. They never agreed to be subject to them. They owe them nothing, and when reduced to an abject state of slavery, by force, shall they not rise in the great cause of liberty, and break the galling yoke? And shall not every liberal soul be warm for them? Empty my head of Corsica! Empty it of honour, empty it of humanity, empty it of friendship, empty it of piety. No! while I live, Corsica, and the cause of the brave islanders, shall ever employ much of my attention, shall ever interest me in the sincerest manner. I am, &c.

66 'JAMES BOSWELL.”

LETTER 110. TO MRS. THRALE.

"Oxford, March 24. 1768.

"Our election was yesterday. Every possible influence of hope and fear was, I believe, enforced on this

occasion; the slaves of power, and the solicitors of favour, were driven hither from the remotest corners of the kingdom; but judex honestum prætulit utili. The virtue of Oxford has once more prevailed. The death of Sir Walter Bagot, a little before the election, left them no great time to deliberate, and they therefore joined to Sir Roger Newdigate (1), their old representative, an Oxfordshire gentleman of no name, no great interest, nor perhaps any other merit, than that of being on the right side; yet when the poll was numbered, it produced-For Sir R. Newdigate, 352; Mr. Page, 296; Mr. Jenkinson, 198; Dr. Hay, 62. Of this I am sure you must be glad; for, without inquiring into the opinions or conduct of any party, it must be for ever pleasing to see men adhering to their principles against their interest, especially when you consider that those voters are poor, and never can be much less poor by the favour of those whom they are now opposing."

LETTER 111. TO MRS. LUCY PORTER.

"Oxford, April 18. 1768. "MY DEAR, DEAR LOVE, You have had a very great loss. (2) To lose an old friend, is to be cut off from a great part of the little pleasure that this life allows. But such is the condition of our nature, that as we live on we must see those whom we love drop successively, and find our circle of relations grow less and less, till we are almost unconnected with the world; and then it

(1) [Sir Roger Newdigate died in 1806, in his eighty-seventh year, after having represented the University of Oxford in five parliaments. Among other benefactions to his Alma Mater, he gave the noble antique candelabra in the Radcliffe Library, and founded an annual prize for English verses on ancient painting, sculpture, and architecture.]

(2) The death of her aunt, Mrs. Hunter, widow of Johnson's schoolmaster. See antè, Vol. I. p. 40.-C.

There

must soon be our turn to drop into the grave. is always this consolation, that we have one Protector who can never be lost but by our own fault, and every new experience of the uncertainty of all other comforts should determine us to fix our hearts where true joys are to be found. All union with the inhabitants of earth must in time be broken; and all the hopes that 'erminate here, must on [one] part or other end in disappointment.

"I am glad that Mrs. Adey and Mrs. Cobb do not leave you alone. Pay my respects to them, and the Sewards, and all my friends. When Mr. Porter comes, he will direct you. Let me know of his arrival, and I

will write to him.

"When I go back to London, I will take care of your reading-glass. Whenever I can do any thing for you, remember, my dear darling, that one of my greatest pleasures is to please you.

"The punctuality of your correspondence I consider as a proof of great regard. When we shall see each

other, I know not, but let us often think on each other, and think with tenderness. Do not forget me in your prayers. I have for a long time back been very poorly; but of what use is it to complain? Write often, for your letters always give great pleasure to, my dear, your most affectionate, and most humble servant,

"SAM. JOHNSON."

Upon his arrival in London in May, he surprised me one morning with a visit at my lodging in Halfmoon Street, was quite satisfied with my explanation, and was in the kindest and most agreeable frame of mind. As he had objected to a part of one of his letters being published, I thought it right to take this opportunity of asking him explicitly whether it would be improper to publish his letters after his

death. His answer was, "Nay, Sir, when I am dead, you may do as you will."

66

He talked in his usual style with a rough contempt of popular liberty. They make a rout about universal liberty, without considering that all that is to be valued, or indeed can be enjoyed by individuals, is private liberty. Political liberty is good only so far as it produces private liberty. Now, Sir, there is the liberty of the press, which you know is a constant topic. Suppose you and I and two hundred more were restrained from printing our thoughts: what then? What proportion would that restraint upon us bear to the private happiness of the nation ?" (1)

This mode of representing the inconveniences of restraint as light and insignificant, was a kind of sophistry in which he delighted to indulge himself, in opposition to the extreme laxity for which it has been fashionable for too many to argue, when it is evident, upon reflection, that the very essence of government is restraint; and certain it is, that as government produces rational happiness, too much restraint is better than too little. But when restraint is unnecessary, and so close as to gall those who are subject to it, the people may and ought to remonstrate; and, if relief is not granted, to resist. Of this manly and spirited principle, no man was more convinced than Johnson himself.

About this time Dr. Kenrick attacked him, through

(1) Would Johnson have talked in this way in the days of the Marmor Norfolciense? (Vol. I. p. 156.) If we lost the liberty of the press, what security could we have for any other right?-C.