A morning with Johnson at Boswell's own chambers, an evening at tea with Mrs. Williams-the privilege that marked his accession to the full favor of his great master-a promenade on the flagged walk of a shaded court in Fleet-street, and yet another supper at the "Turk's Head," filled up the time to the day of his depart ure. And when at length the time arrived, Johnson determined to accompany him as far as Harwich, the place of embarkation. At the inn he chatted with the landlady, and assured her, to the no little annoyance of his self-complacent associate, that both himself and "that young man " had been "idle fellows all their lives." In the stagecoach "a gentlewoman talked violently against the Roman Catholics, and of the horrors of the Inquisition." Johnson was 'full of talk, and apparently regardless of what he said, or whether he defended the right or the wrong; so he took the opposite side, and actually defended the abominations of the Inquisition as just and necessary. "False doctrine," he declared, "should be checked on its first appearance-the civil power should unite with the Church in punishing those who dare to attack the established religion-and only such were punished by the Inquisition." At Colchester, a Dutchman, who was their fellow-traveler, commended the superiority of the criminal jurisprudence of England over that of Holland, instancing the barbarous custom among the Hollanders of torturing accused persons to compel VOL. III, No. 4.-X Those who are acquainted with the facts of English criminal jurisprudence, at and previous to Johnson's times, may be prepared to pardon such a blunder as this; but if the heart of the defender of the torture is acquitted, it must be by transferring the blame to his understanding, which seems often to have been the slave of a blind and invincible prejudice. When his own rights or the designs of his party were in danger, he could talk and write most eloquently about the rights of "freeborn Englishmen," but when the specially excellent features of the common law and the constitution of the realm were urged in opposition to the systematic tyranny of other and less favored nations, he could depreciate those and apologize for this. At supper he talked of good eating, giving, at the same time, a practical demonstration of his sincerity. He had written some very excellent things against an undue indulgence of the appetites, and especially is one of the latest numbers of "The Rambler" a valuable essay against gluttony; but in this, as in many other things, his precepts and practices were sadly at vari ance. Just at this time, it would seem, he had let go the moralist, and had given loose reins to his boisterous passions and love of free and easy enjoyments*-a result of the morbid condition of his mind-which, though usually depressed below a healthy level of cheerfulness, would occasionally, and under special excitements, rise as much above the elevation of sober propriety. Still his general manner would rather favor what he now said of the pleasures of the palate, than lend an influence to his sterner moralizings. His admiring but most faithful biographer says:— "When at table he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment: his looks seemed riveted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite, which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible." The connection of Johnson and Boswell, their intimacy, and the evident influence of the latter over the former, altogether constitute a curious subject for contemplation and inquiry. In mind and character the two were very unlike, and often as the opposite poles of the same sphere. In their ages, opinions, associations, national prejudices, political and ecclesiastical affinities-so far as the latter can be said to have had any of these-they were wholly dissimilar. Yet they became friends, and long maintained an intimacy such as only Boswell ever had with Johnson, and such as only Johnson would have endured. A phenomenon so curious, and one in which, on account of its results, all have so large an interest, deserves to be examined, and if possible explained. There is no cause to wonder that Boswell, whose avidity for the acquaintance and society of distinguished characters amounted to a mania, should be attracted toward the most distinguished writer of the kingdom, nor, since he was not peremptorily repulsed, that he stuck to him with the tenacity of a burr. It is more strange, because more unusual, that with such a spirit of sycophancy should be united so keen a perception, and such a degree of constructive genius as are dis Next morning the sojourners passed on to Harwich, and as the vessel did not sail till toward evening, they had most of the day to themselves. In strolling about the town they at length wandered into the church; and here Johnson, who had an almost superstitious reverence for the externals of religion, as well as a good share of sentimentality, brought his half-played in his "Life of Johnson ;" and then infidel and empty-headed companion to kneel at the altar, saying to him with great solemnity and pious fervor, "Now that you are going to leave your native country, recommend yourself to the protection of your CREATOR and REDEEMER." They then walked down to the Strand together, and after mutually engaging to write to each other, they separated with more than paternal and filial tenderness. "As the vessel put out to sea," says Boswell, "I kept my eyes upon him for a considerable time, while he remained rolling his majestic frame in his usual manner; and at last I perceived him walk back into the town, and he disappeared." So Boswell proceeded to his destination at Utrecht, and Johnson returned to London. 66 "After we were left by ourselves, Johnson talked of that studied behavior which many have recommended and practiced. He disapproved of it, and said, I never considered whether I should be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination for the time have its course.'"-BOSWELL. A little more circumspection would certainly not have been amiss at this very time. that, on the other hand, should be found in the same person an almost total want of discrimination of the proprieties of life, and such an abnegation of self, as few would consent to for any consideration. But the wonder is that the great Samuel Johnson, when at the zenith of his literary renown, and when at last the royal munificence had delivered him from the fear of want, should receive into his most intimate friendship a raw Scotch youth, at once ignorant and self-conceited, as garrulous as a jay, and utterly destitute of any sense of the proprieties of social life, and that such a one should succeed in opening the profoundest depths of that mighty soul, in exorcising his "vile melancholy," and in charming into playfulness his fierce and powerful passions. The facts are before us: the philosophy of these facts is less obvious, though not altogether obscure. The time of the conjunction of the parties to this strange alliance was the beginning of a new era in Johnson's After twenty years of severe history. labor, he was at length released from its burdens, and from the necessity that had impelled him to toil. The clouds that had darkened his prospects through all his previous history were breaking, and the external world was putting on a brighter aspect; but his domestic affairs were terribly desolate. His last surviving relative had just before gone down to the grave, and his own strangely assorted family had been | scattered, and himself lodged like a hermit at the Inner Temple. Johnson's mind was eminently social, the more so on account of his proneness to deep depressions of spirit, which caused him to dread solitude; and though the circle of his friends was considerably large and highly valuable, yet he felt the want of more intimate associations. When Boswell, at his first visit to the Temple Chambers, apologized for the interruption, Johnson assured him, with an earnest sadness, that he was obliged to any man who visited him. In such a case even Boswell's society was agreeable; and this sufficiently explains the beginning of their intimacy. Boswell wished above all things to have the honor of Johnson's society, and Johnson was happy to have the society of "any man.” Its progress and perpetuity will require a further explanation. In his disposition and manner Johnson was strangely exacting, and he therefore needed for a dayly companion one equally obsequious. From childhood he seemed to receive submission as a right, and to honor most highly those who rendered it most fully and cheerfully. His love for conversation amounted to a passion; and a man who loves to talk, wishes to be heard with attention and interest, and naturally thinks favorably of any one who has the taste and understanding to appreciate what he says. How well Boswell answered to these requirements he himself has told us, and so explained, in part at least, the secret of his power over his formidable associate. Johnson had other friends-men of superior abilities and cultivation-the wits and geniuses of his times. With these he mingled on terms of honorable equality, and was very generally acknowledged to be the first among was always subject to some degree of restraint. He could, indeed, take very large liberties with Garrick, but he could not be insensible of that address and native gracefulness by which the successful player had raised his peers. But among these he himself to his elevated social position. Reynolds was at once the object of his love and his veneration; but the keen perception, the taste, at once delicate and rigidly correct, and the elevated spirit of the great painter, removed him somewhat from the easy and boisterous communion in which Johnson especially delighted. With Langton and Beauclerk, particularly at their first acquaintance, his intercourse was much more of the free and easy kind; but he soon learned to regard Langton's nice discriminations, his delicate sense of propriety, and the native aristrocatic elevation of his mind; while Beauclerk was always formidable for his wit, his sarcasms, and the cruel but good-natured truthfulness of his pleasantries. Goldsmith, next to Boswell, was Johnson's bosom companion; but Goldsmith was himself a man of some consideration, and at length became Johnson's rival in authorship, and though this never interrupted their friendship, it necessarily modified it. But Boswell was only Johnson's man. His relation to his "illustrious friend" was merely adjective, and that with very little qualifying power. But while Boswell was thus exhibiting characteristics that have rendered him a proverb of contempt, and exposed him to universal ridicule, he was unquestionably exercising a very decided influence upon the object of his admiration. It belongs to the limner's art to induce the desired expression of the countenance, not less than to depict the features; and as Boswell is confessed to have succeeded beyond any other writer of biography in giving a life-like portraiture of his subject, so it is evident that he himself elicited the expression of character that he delineates. The sympathy of minds mutually acting and reacting brings out the properties as to which they are agreed; and these, too, are most readily detected by the sympathizing observer. Thus the traits of Johnson's character most like those of Boswell's (certainly not his chief excellences) have been most clearly sketched, and we may safely suppose, that had the "Life of Johnson" been composed by a friend equally beloved, but of a more exquisite taste, of a sterner virtue, and of a more elevated spirit, though his name might have been less notorious, the work would have been equally just, as well as more honorable to its subject, and more serviceable to mankind. JONATHAN EDWARDS AND JOHN WESLEY. PLACES and events are closely linked, and the first become noted according to the character and influence of the latter. Thus East Windsor and Epworth, Yale and Oxford, Northampton and City Road, yea, both old and New-England, are rendered classic less by association with traditions of antiquity, deeds of daring, heroism, and revolution, than for having been the scenes of birth, education, and protracted labor, of such immortal names as occur at the head of this communication. Also there are few years on the chronometer of time more memorable than that of 1703, for this was the year that gave Edwards and Wesley to the world; the one born on the 17th day of June, and the latter on the 5th day of October. One hundred and fifty years have rolled away. The same heavens are indeed on high,-the same outlines of geography ex and beautified by the arts and energies of "The old Puritan, that tall, solemn man, tend beneath, especially in Northampton, | ly burrowed, have been drained, smoothed, the everlasting mountains Holyoke and Tom are unmoved,-while the same river sweeps on in its old course of deep cuts, jagged gorges, and fertile savannas, basking, coiling, and crooking; now foaming wrathfully, and anon dashing impetuously, continually accelerating and aggregating till it becomes imbosomed in the sea: but all else, how altered! Here, the primal forests that once skirted the Connecticut, where Indians lurked, huntsmen sported, catamounts yelled, and subsequently Edwards strolled, meditated, and evolved those great thoughts which at once checked the progress of Socinian apostasy, and consolidated the hitherto trembling system of New-England theology, have fallen before the woodman's ax. The dark swamps, where aboriginal reptiles crawled and crafty beavers secure And seem'd the forlornest of creatures," the fields, streets, public plaza, and the churches, all teem with a promiscuous population, illustrating every variety of social, civil, political, and religious character. So also we suppose the drapery of the old world has lost its orignal identity. Yet despite these things, the lapse of years, the improvements of art, and the successive departure of old generations, combined with the swelled numbers and many-fangled characteristics of the new, one cannot long sojourn in the ancient or the modern England, without discovering deep footprints of those two giant men of whom we are discoursing. Did England mob Wesley, and endeavor to crush his evangelical schemes in their incipiency? and did Wesley outlive the age of these riots, and behold his principles and organizations impregnating society to unknown depths, and covering the United Kingdom and her colonies? So also New-England, particularly Northampton, chafed by his holy example, and lashed into furor by his powerful preaching, drove Jonathan Edwards from their midst; sending after him slanderous mutterings and clamorous indignation. But despite these endurances and conflicts, both Edwards and Wesley have left behind them a moral image and superscription which the lapse of untold ages more will fail to obliterate. While the names of their opposers have gone to oblivion, or are known only on the dusty records of courts, councils, and investigations, the two former give fame to their nativities, and are among the brightest objects of their country's pride. Neither Edwards nor Wesley belong to that class of great men who have given color and shape to succeeding generations by means of extraneous circumstances. It was by their own self-cultivated but heaven-sanctified mental and moral energies, that they seized upon and revolutionized the course of human thought and feelings. Both had a learned and godly ancestry, each came out into the world from the lap and supervision of a model mother; and both, indeed, were blessed originally and precociously with sparkling powers of perception, analysis, and combination. Yet, whoever considers the comparative obscurity of their birth, and the inauspicious circumstances under which they entered upon life, together with the character, the amount, and the results of their religious and literary efforts, will behold their greatness standing out in a relief far bolder than that of most before whom the world bow and do homage. As in nature no two scenes are alike, so also in the rational creation are there no two identical minds. There are some one or more respects in which each individual differs from every other individual of the race of man. It was, therefore, but in accordance with philosophical and physiological necessity that on some one or more subjects Edwards and Wesley should develop an antagonism. But happy for the world, when their respective mighty abilities are considered, that their opposition of views and action did not comprehend the fundamentals of the Christian religion. On the existence and attributes of God, the Trinity, the Divinity of Christ, the personality and Deity of the Holy Ghost, the fall and depravity of man, human redemption through faith in the atonement of Christ, the essential institutions of the Church, the doctrine of a general judgment to be followed by an eternal retribution of the righteous and the wicked; on all these, and cognate theses, they were agreed. On the abstract questions of liberty and necessity, together with the principles deducible from each, only did they differ. Such was the organization of his mind, and such the stand-point from which he took his view of revelation, and the reason and fitness of things, that Wesley could not be a Necessarian; while, for reasons, mutatis mutandis, Edwards could not be a Libertarian. And when is the world to see alike on these questions? Never until language becomes pure and unchangeable, the effects of the fall are countervailed, and men shall have passed up into the perfections of eternity. In this world, to the loftiest intellects, to quote the language of Foster, "the whole hemisphere of contemplation will ever appear inexpressibly strange and mysterious; like cloud pursuing cloud, forest after forest, or Alps upon Alps!" Or in the eloquent language of Chalmers: "With every increase of diameter in the sphere of light, there will be a corresponding increase of surface in the circumambient darkness; though with every step of our advancement in the path of clear knowledge, the onward obscurity may retire a little; yet, at the place where it begins, it is as deeply shrouded as before." Why, then, perpetual mutual recriminations, the bandying about of sarcastic invectives, and the sharply-defined boundaries of organization between the disciples of the two schools, seeing each, for aught the other can infallibly say, may be in the wrong! Why not at once, and forever, quit the region of darkling speculations, and be governed in thought, word, and deed, by the assuredly authentic notes of information that have sounded out from |