Richard Brinsley Sheridan's Marriage-An CHAP. XXXIV. 1776.-Letters to Boswell on the 1776.-Excursion to Oxford with Boswell-Johnson and Boswell arrive at Bir- CHAP. XXXVI. 1776.--Johnson returned to Lon- CHAP. XXXVII. 1776. -The Roman Catholic CHAP. XL. 1777. Savage's Tragedy of Sir Thomas Overbury-Johnson's Visit to Ashbourne -Boswell's Arrival at Ashbourne-Journey to the Western Islands-Ashbourne School-Johnson's zealous Interference and Correspondence on be- CHAP. XLI. 1777.-Johnson's Opinions of Hume . field Letters of Junius - - Claret, Port, and Brandy-Garrick-Johnson's Ideas of Drinking- Boswell's Introduction to John Wesley СНАР. L. 1779.-Death of Edward Dilly-John- son's attendance at Church-Johnson's various Residences in London - Boswell's numerous Visits at Lichfield and Chester CHAP. LI. 1780.-Lives of the Poets-Death of Beau- clerk-Johnson's Account of the Riots in London -Mr. Thrale's Election Defeat-Mrs. Desmoulins a Candidate for the Office of Matron of Chartreux 416 CHAP. LII. 1781.-Johnson's Lives of the Poets completed-Various Readings-Dr. Towers' re- marks on the Writings of Johnson-Attacks on CHAP. LIII. 1781. Johnson's Correspondence with Warren Hastings-Death of Mr. Thrale- CHAP. LIV. 1781. Dinner at Mrs. Garrick's- Death of Mr. W. Strahan-Johnson dines with Wilkes and Dr. Beattie-Boswell's Departure for Scotland-Mr. Bewley's Enthusiasm for Johnson 452 CHAP. LV. 1782.-Death of Mr. Levett-Johnson's Satisfaction at the Dissolution of the Ministry- Death of Boswell's Father-Mrs. Thrale's Cool- ness to Johnson-His Parting Prayer on leaving CHAP. LVI. 1783.-Boswell's Arrival in London- The Great Twalmley-Mr. Cambridge-John- son's Love of Children and Animals CHAP. LVII. 1783.-Increase of London, and its Population-Mallet's First Essay-Johnson at- CHAP. LVIII. 1783.-Death of Mrs. Williams- Johnson's Ill-health-Death of Mr. Porter. CHAP. LIX. 1784.-The last Year of Johnson's Life- Continued Ill-health-Johnson's Advice to Bos- well-Melancholy Thoughts at the approach of Death-His Advice to Miss Langton-Boswell's Arrival in London-Mrs. Thrale's altered Con- CHAP. LX. 1784.-Miss Helen Maria Williams- Johnson's Arrival at Oxford-Infidel Writers- Jeremy Taylor-Johnson's Horror of Death CHAP. LXI. 1784.-On Truth-Junius-Pope's Dun- ciad-Johnson's Return to London-Johnson's Apology to the Compositor-His last Dinner at the 'Literary Club'-Lord Thurlow's Letter in favour of Johnson-His Sensibility-Italy-Mrs. Thrale's intended Marriage, and her Anecdotes of CHAP. LXII. 1784.-Lord Chancellor Thurlow's Barber, Francis, 98, 159, 174, 185. Barnes, Rev. Joshua, 429. Bath, 299. Baxter, Richard, 491. Beattie, Dr., 184, 420. Beauclerk, Topham, 67, 374, 431, Chesterfield, Lord, 70, 241, 396. Cook, Captain, 288. Cotterell, the Misses, 66. Courtenay, Mr., 12. Crabbe, 476. Craddock, Mr., 297. Croft, Rev. Herbert, 440. 324. Desmoulins, Mrs., 356, 424. Dilly, Mr. Edward, 320, 325, 409, Dodsley, Mr. Robert, 30, 50, 429. Dossie, Mr., 427. Douglas, Dr., Bishop of Salisbury, Dundas, Mr. Henry, 353. Mounsey, Messenger, 160. NEWGATE, 419. Newton, Sir Isaac, 178. Nichols, Mr. John, 434, 532, 535. O'CONNOR, Charles, 90, 320. Oglethorpe, General, 194, 301, 475. Omai, 288. Orme, Henry, 233. PAOLI, General, 164, 301, 334. Philidor, Andrew, 402. Piozzi, Mrs., 13, 525. Pope, 33, 34, 165, 438. Porter, Mrs. Lucy, 95, 258, 466, 493. Potter, 366. Priestley, Dr., 177, 494. Psalmanazar, George, 384. QUEEN ANNE, 6. RAMSAY, Allan, 207, 389. Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 66, 184, 310, Richardson, 156. Robertson, 359. Rochester, 346. Roscommon, 50. Rousseau, 125, 145. Rudd, Margaret Caroline, 309, 389. SACHEVEREL, Dr., 5. Shaw, Mr. Cuthbert, 151. Sheridan, Thomas, 106, 166, 239. Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 252, 403. Sibbald, Sir Robert, 357. Siddons, Mrs., 496. Sidney, Sir Philip, 327. Simpson, Joseph, 98. Sinclair, Sir John, 464. Somerville, Lord James, 438. Steevens, George, 203, 224, 316. Strahan, Mr. Wm., 181, 239, 399. Stuart, Rev. James, 150. DEDICATION TO SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. MY DEAR SIR, Every liberal motive that can actuate an Author in the dedication of his labours, concurs in directing me to you, as the person to whom the following Work should be inscribed. ceived all the shades which mingled in the grand composition; all the little peculiarities and slight blemishes which marked the literary Colossus. Your very warm commendation of the specimen which I gave, in my Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, of my being able to preserve his conversation in an authentic and lively manner, which opinion the public has confirmed, was the best encouragement for me to persevere in my purpose of producing the whole of my stores. In one respect this Work will, in some passages, be different from the former. In my Tour, I was almost unboundedly open in my If there be a pleasure in celebrating the distinguished merit of a contemporary, mixed with a certain degree of vanity not altogether inexcusable, in appearing fully sensible of it, where can I find one, in complimenting whom I can with more general approbation gratify those feelings? Your excellence, not only in the art over which you have long presided with unrivalled fame, but also in Philosophy and elegant Literature, is well known to the pre-communications, and from my eagerness to dissent, and will continue to be the admiration of future ages. Your equal and placid temper, your variety of conversation, your true politeness, by which you are so amiable in private society, and that enlarged hospitality which has long made your house a common centre of union for the great, the accomplished, the learned, and the ingenious; all these qualities I can, in perfect confidence of not being accused of flattery, ascribe to you. If a man may indulge an honest pride in having it known to the world that he has been thought worthy of particular attention by a person of the first eminence in the age in which he lived, whose company has been universally courted, I am justified in availing myself of the usual privilege of a Dedication, when I mention that there has been a long and uninterrupted friendship between us. If gratitude should be acknowledged for favours received, I have this opportunity, my dear sir, most sincerely to thank you for the many happy hours which I owe to your kindness, for the cordiality with which you have at all times been pleased to welcome me,-for the number of valuable acquaintances to whom you have introduced me,-for the noctes cœnæque Deum which I have enjoyed under your roof. If a work should be inscribed to one who is master of the subject of it, and whose approbation, therefore, must ensure it credit and success, the Life of Dr. Johnson is with the greatest propriety dedicated to Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was the intimate and beloved friend of that great man; the friend whom he declared to be the most invulnerable man he knew; whom, if he should quarrel with him, he should find the most difficulty how to abuse.' You, my dear sir, studied him, and knew him well you venerated and admired him. Yet, luminous as he was upon the whole, you per play the wonderful fertility and readiness of Johnson's wit, freely showed to the world its dexterity, even when I was myself the object of it. I trusted that I should be liberally understood, as knowing very well what I was about, and by no means as simply unconscious of the pointed effects of the satire. I own, indeed, that I was arrogant enough to suppose that the tenor of the rest of the book would sufficiently guard me against such a strange imputation. But it seems I judged too well of the world; for, though I could scarcely believe it," I have been undoubtedly informed, that many persons, especially in distant quarters, not penetrating enough into Johnson's character, so as to understand his mode of treating his friends, have arraigned my judgment, instead of seeing that I was sensible of all that they could observe. It is related of the great Dr. Clarke, that when, in one of his leisure hours, he was unbending himself with a few friends in the most playful and frolicsome manner, he observed Beau Nash approaching; upon which he suddenly stopped. 'My boys,' said he, 'let us be grave; here comes a fool.' The world, my friend, I have found to be a great fool, as to that particular on which it has become necessary to speak very plainly. I have therefore in this Work been more reserved; and though I tell nothing but the truth, I have still kept in my mind that the whole truth is not always to be exposed. This, however, I have managed so as to occasion no diminution of the pleasure which my book should afford; though malignity may sometimes be disappointed of its gratifications. I am, my dear Sir, Your much obliged friend, LONDON, April 20, 1791. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. I AT last deliver to the world a Work which I have long promised; and of which, I am afraid, too high expectations have been raised. The delay of its publication must be imputed, in a considerable degree, to the extraordinary zeal which has been shown by distinguished persons in all quarters to supply me with additional information concerning its illustrious subject, resembling in this the grateful tribes of ancient nations, of which every individual was eager to throw a stone upon the grave of a departed hero, and thus to share in the pious office of erecting an honourable monument to his memory. The labour and anxious attention with which I have collected and arranged the materials of which these volumes are composed, will hardly be conceived by those who read them with careless facility. The stretch of mind and prompt assiduity by which so many conversations were preserved, I myself, at some distance of time, contemplate with wonder; and I must be allowed to suggest that the nature of the work in other respects, as it consists of innumerable detached particulars-all of which, even the most minute, I have spared no pains to ascertain with a scrupulous authenticity-has occasioned a degree of trouble far beyond that of any other species of composition. Were I to detail the books which I have consulted, and the inquiries which I have found it necessary to make by various channels, I should probably be thought ridiculously ostentatious. Let me only observe, as a specimen of my trouble, that I have sometimes been obliged to run half over London in order to fix a date correctly, which, when I had accomplished, I well knew would obtain me no praise, though a failure would have been to my discredit. And, after all, perhaps, hard as it may be, I shall not be surprised if omissions or mistakes be pointed out with invidious severity. I have also been extremely careful as to the exactness of my quotations, holding that there is a respect due to the public, which should oblige every author to attend to this, and never to presume to introduce them with, I think I have read,' or, 'If I remember right,' when the originals may be examined. beg leave to express my warmest thanks to those who have been pleased to favour me with communications and advice in the conduct of my Work. But I cannot sufficiently acknowledge my obligations to my friend Mr. Malone, who was so good as to allow me to read to him almost the whole of my manuscript, and make such remarks as were greatly for the advantage of the Work, though it is but fair to him to mention, that upon many occasions I differed from him, and followed my own judgment. I regret exceedingly that I was deprived of the benefit of his revision, when not more than one-half of the book had passed through the press; but after having completed his very laborious and admirable edition of Shakspeare, for which he generously would accept of no other reward but that fame which he had so deservedly obtained, he fulfilled his promise of a long-wished-for visit to his relations in Ireland, from whence his safe return finibus Atticis is desired by his friends here with all the classical ardour of Sic te Diva potens Cypri; for there is no man in whom more elegant and worthy qualities are united, and whose society, therefore, is more valued by those who know him. It is painful to me to think, that while I was carrying on this Work, several of those to whom it would have been most interesting have died. Such melancholy disappointments we know to be incident to humanity, but we do not feel them the less. Let me particularly lament the Reverend Thomas Warton, and the Reverend Dr. Adams. Mr. Warton, amidst his variety of genius and learning, was an excellent biographer. His contributions to my collection are highly estimable; and as he had a true relish of my Tour to the Hebrides, I trust I should now have been gratified with a larger share of his kind approbation. Dr. Adams, eminent as the Head of a College, as a writer, and as a most amiable man, had known Johnson from his early years, and was his friend through life. What reason I had to hope for the countenance of that venerable gentleman to this Work, will appear from what he wrote to me upon a former occasion from Oxford, November 17, 1785:-'DEAR SIR,-I hazard this letter, not knowing where it will find you, to thank |