Mr. Johnson's knowledge of literary history was extensive and surprising he knew every adventure of every book you could name almost, and was exceedingly pleased with the opportunity which writing the Poets' Lives gave him to display it. He loved to be set at work, and was sorry when he came to the end of the business he was about[1]. I do not feel so myself with regard to these sheets: a fever which has preyed on me while I wrote them over for the press, will perhaps lessen my power of doing well the first, and probably the last work I should ever have thought of presenting to the Public. I could doubtless wish so to conclude it, as at least to shew my zeal for my friend, whose life, as I once had the honour and happiness of being useful to, I should wish to record a few particular traits of, that those who read should emulate his goodness; but seeing the necessity of making even virtue and learning such as his agreeable, that all should be warned against such coarseness of manners, as drove even from him those who loved, honoured, and esteemed him. His wife's daughter, Mrs. Lucy Porter of Litchfield, whose veneration for his person and character has ever been the greatest possible[2], being opposed one day in conversation by a clergyman who came often to her house, and feeling somewhat offended, cried out suddenly, Why, Mr. Pearson[3], said she, you are just like Dr. Johnson, I think: I do not mean that you are a man of the greatest capacity in all the world like
- ↑ About a revised edition of his Dictionary he wrote: – 'I am now within a few hours of being able to send the whole dictionary to the press, and though I often went sluggishly to the work I am not much delighted at the completion.' Letters, i. 191.
- ↑ Boswell says of her: – 'she reverenced Johnson, and he had a parental tenderness for her.' Life, ii. 462. Nevertheless such passages as the following in his letters must have shown Mrs. Thrale that the veneration was sometimes veiled. 'July 20, 1767. Miss Lucy is more kind and civil than I expected.' Letters, i. 129. 'Lucy is a philosopher, and considers me as one of the external and accidental things that are to be taken and left without emotion.' Ib. i. 180. 'Aug. 1, 1775. Fits of tenderness with Mrs. Lucy are not common; but she seems now to have a little paroxysm, and I was not willing to counteract it.' Ib. i. 359. 'Oct. 31, 1781. She never was so civil to me before.' Ib. ii. 232. Letters, i. 85, n. 2; ii. 86, n. 4.
- ↑ ³
its effect. All the booksellers were anxious to get their names put down for copies of it, and the edition, though very large, was immediately sold.'
