'Neither your condition nor your character make it fit for me to say much. You have been the best mother, and I believe the best woman in the world. I thank you for your indulgence to me, and beg forgiveness of all that I have done ill, and all that I have omitted to do well. G.o.d grant you his Holy Spirit, and receive you to everlasting happiness, for Jesus Christ's sake. Amen. Lord Jesus receive your spirit. Amen.

'I am, dear, dear mother, 'Your dutiful son, 'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Jan. 20, 1759.'

'TO MISS PORTER IN LICHFIELD.

'You will conceive my sorrow for the loss of my mother, of the best mother. If she were to live again surely I should behave better to her.

But she is happy, and what is past is nothing to her; and for me, since I cannot repair my faults to her, I hope repentance will efface them. I return you and all those that have been good to her my sincerest thanks, and pray G.o.d to repay you all with infinite advantage. Write to me, and comfort me, dear child. I shall be glad likewise, if Kitty will write to me. I shall send a bill of twenty pounds in a few days, which I thought to have brought to my mother; but G.o.d suffered it not. I have not power or composure to say much more. G.o.d bless you, and bless us all.

'I am, dear Miss, 'Your affectionate humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Jan. 23, 1759[1472].'

'To Miss PORTER.

(_The beginning is torn and lost_.)

'You will forgive me if I am not yet so composed as to give any directions about any thing. But you are wiser and better than I, and I shall be pleased with all that you shall do. It is not of any use for me now to come down; nor can I bear the place. If you want any directions, Mr. Howard[1473] will advise you. The twenty pounds I could not get a bill for to-night, but will send it on Sat.u.r.day.

'I am, my dear, your affectionate servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Jan. 25, 1759.'

'To Miss PORTER.

'DEAR Miss,

'I have no reason to forbear writing, but that it makes my heart heavy, and I had nothing particular to say which might not be delayed to the next post; but had no thoughts of ceasing to correspond with my dear Lucy, the only person now left in the world with whom I think myself connected. There needed not my dear mother's desire, for every heart must lean to somebody, and I have n.o.body but you; in whom I put all my little affairs with too much confidence to desire you to keep receipts, as you prudently proposed.

'If you and Kitty will keep the house, I think I shall like it best.

Kitty may carry on the trade for herself, keeping her own stock apart, and laying aside any money that she receives for any of the goods which her good mistress has left behind her. I do not see, if this scheme be followed, any need of appraising the books. My mother's debts, dear mother, I suppose I may pay with little difficulty; and the little trade may go silently forward. I fancy Kitty can do nothing better; and I shall not want to put her out of a house, where she has lived so long, and with so much virtue. I am very sorry that she is ill, and earnestly hope that she will soon recover; let her know that I have the highest value for her, and would do any thing for her advantage. Let her think of this proposal. I do not see any likelier method by which she may pa.s.s the remaining part of her life in quietness and competence.

'You must have what part of the house you please, while you are inclined to stay in it; but I flatter myself with the hope that you and I shall some time pa.s.s our days together. I am very solitary and comfortless, but will not invite you to come hither till I can have hope of making you live here so as not to dislike your situation. Pray, my dearest, write to me as often as you can.

'I am, dear Madam,

'Your affectionate humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.

'Feb. 6, 1759'

'To Miss PORTER.

'DEAR MADAM,

'I thought your last letter long in coming; and did not require or expect such an inventory of little things as you have sent me. I could have taken your word for a matter of much greater value. I am glad that Kitty is better; let her be paid first, as my dear, dear mother ordered, and then let me know at once the sum necessary to discharge her other debts, and I will find it you very soon.

'I beg, my dear, that you would act for me without the least scruple, for I can repose myself very confidently upon your prudence, and hope we shall never have reason to love each other less. I shall take it very kindly if you make it a rule to write to me once at least every week, for I am now very desolate, and am loth to be universally forgotten.

'I am, dear sweet, 'Your affectionate servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'March 1, 1759.'

'TO MISS PORTER.

'DEAR MADAM,

'I beg your pardon for having so long omitted to write. One thing or other has put me off. I have this day moved my things and you are now to direct to me at Staple Inn, London. I hope, my dear, you are well, and Kitty mends. I wish her success in her trade. I am going to publish a little story book [_Ra.s.selas_], which I will send you when it is out.

Write to me, my dearest girl, for I am always glad to hear from you.

'I am, my dear, your humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'March 23, 1759.'

'TO MISS PORTER.

'DEAR MADAM,

'I am almost ashamed to tell you that all your letters came safe, and that I have been always very well, but hindered, I hardly know how, from writing. I sent, last week, some of my works, one for you, one for your aunt Hunter, who was with my poor dear mother when she died, one for Mr.

Howard, and one for Kitty.

'I beg you, my dear, to write often to me, and tell me how you like my little book.

'I am, dear love, your affectionate humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'May 10, 1759.'

JOHNSON AT CAMBRIDGE.

(Page 487.)

The following is the full extract of Dr. Sharp's letter giving an account of Johnson's visit to Cambridge in 1765:--

'Camb. Mar. 1, 1765.

'As to Johnson, you will be surprised to hear that I have had him in the chair in which I am now writing. He has ascended my aerial citadel. He came down on a Sat.u.r.day evening, with a Mr. Beauclerk, who has a friend at Trinity. Caliban, you may be sure, was not roused from his lair before next day noon, and his breakfast probably kept him till night. I saw nothing of him, nor was he heard of by any one, till Monday afternoon, when I was sent for home to two gentlemen unknown. In conversation I made a strange _faux pas_ about Burnaby Greene's poem, in which Johnson is drawn at full length[1474]. He drank his large potations of tea with me, interrupted by many an indignant contradiction, and many a n.o.ble sentiment. He had on a better wig than usual, but, one whose curls were not, like Sir Cloudesly's[1475], formed for 'eternal buckle.'

[1476] Our conversation was chiefly on books, you may be sure. He was much pleased with a small _Milton_ of mine, published in the author's lifetime, and with the Greek epigram on his own effigy, of its being the picture, not of him, but of a bad painter[1477]. There are many ma.n.u.script stanzas, for aught I know, in Milton's own handwriting, and several interlined hints and fragments. We were puzzled about one of the sonnets, which we thought was not to be found in Newton's edition[1478], and differed from all the printed ones. But Johnson cried, "No, no!"