The Life of Samuel Johnson, vol 2 | Page 2

by yourself or others; and[7] when you return, you will return to an
unaltered, and, I hope, unalterable friend.
'All that you have to fear from me is the vexation of disappointing me.
No man loves to frustrate expectations which have been formed in his
favour; and the pleasure which I promise myself from your journals and
remarks is so great, that perhaps no degree of attention or discernment
will be sufficient to afford it.
'Come home, however, and take your chance. I long to see you, and to
hear you; and hope that we shall not be so long separated again. Come
home, and expect such a welcome as is due to him whom a wise and
noble curiosity has led, where perhaps no native of this country ever
was before[8].

'I have no news to tell you that can deserve your notice; nor would I
willingly lessen the pleasure that any novelty may give you at your
return. I am afraid we shall find it difficult to keep among us a mind
which has been so long feasted with variety. But let us try what esteem
and kindness can effect.
'As your father's liberality has indulged you with so long a ramble, I
doubt not but you will think his sickness, or even his desire to see you,
a sufficient reason for hastening your return. The longer we live, and
the more we think, the higher value we learn to put on the friendship
and tenderness of parents and of friends. Parents we can have but once;
and he promises himself too much, who enters life with the expectation
of finding many friends. Upon some motive, I hope, that you will be
here soon; and am willing to think that it will be an inducement to your
return, that it is sincerely desired by, dear Sir,
'Your affectionate humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Johnson's Court, Fleet-street, January 14, 1766.'
I returned to London in February, and found Dr. Johnson in a good
house in Johnson's Court, Fleet-street[9], in which he had
accommodated Miss Williams with an apartment on the ground floor,
while Mr. Levett occupied his post in the garret: his faithful Francis
was still attending upon him. He received me with much kindness. The
fragments of our first conversation, which I have preserved, are these: I
told him that Voltaire, in a conversation with me, had distinguished
Pope and Dryden thus:--'Pope drives a handsome chariot, with a couple
of neat trim nags; Dryden a coach, and six stately horses.' JOHNSON.
'Why, Sir, the truth is, they both drive coaches and six; but Dryden's
horses are either galloping or stumbling: Pope's go at a steady even
trot[10].' He said of Goldsmith's Traveller, which had been published
in my absence, 'There has not been so fine a poem since Pope's time.'
And here it is proper to settle, with authentick precision, what has long
floated in publick report, as to Johnson's being himself the authour of a
considerable part of that poem. Much, no doubt, both of the sentiments
and expression, were derived from conversation with him; and it was

certainly submitted to his friendly revision: but in the year 1783, he, at
my request, marked with a pencil the lines which he had furnished,
which are only line 420th,
'To stop too fearful, and too faint to go;'
and the concluding ten lines, except the last couplet but one, which I
distinguish by the Italick character:
'How small of all that human hearts endure, That part which kings or
laws[11] can cause or cure. Still to ourselves in every place consign'd,
Our own felicity we make or find[12]; With secret course, which no
loud storms annoy, Glides the smooth current of domestick joy: The
lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of
steel, To men remote from power, but rarely known, Leave reason,
faith, and conscience, all our own.'
He added, 'These are all of which I can be sure[13].' They bear a small
proportion to the whole, which consists of four hundred and thirty-eight
verses. Goldsmith, in the couplet which he inserted, mentions Luke as a
person well known, and superficial readers have passed it over quite
smoothly; while those of more attention have been as much perplexed
by Luke, as by Lydiat[14], in The Vanity of Human Wishes. The truth is,
that Goldsmith himself was in a mistake. In the Respublica
Hungarian[15], there is an account of a desperate rebellion in the year
1514, headed by two brothers, of the name of Zeck, George and Luke.
When it was quelled, George, not Luke, was punished by his head
being encircled with a red-hot iron crown: 'coronâ candescente ferreâ
coronatur[16].' The same severity of torture was exercised on the Earl
of Athol, one of the murderers