metropolis, we shall no longer wonder at his occasional fretfulness and irritation. It should never be forgotten, likewise, that to the hospitality, the kindness and courtesy which he so generally experienced on his route through the Highlands, he has paid the most grateful acknowledgments.

Another source of invective, which he experienced from the publication of his travels, originated in his denial of the authenticity of the Poems ascribed to Ossian. The enthusiasm of the Scotch for their supposed epic poet, was, at this period, at its height; and the scepticism of Johnson, as it was likely to carry great weight, and was expressed in his usual bold and undaunted manner, gave great offence. Mr. Macpherson, in particular, was roused to the highest pitch of resentment by the following paragraph: "I believe," says the tourist," they (the Poems of Ossian) never existed in any other form than that which we have seen. The editor, or author, never the ancient Highlanders of Scotland had hardly any other way of supporting themselves, than by hunting, fishing, or war, professions that are continually exposed to fatal accidents. And hence, no doubt, additional horrors would often haunt their solitude, and a deeper gloom overshadow the imagination even of the hardiest native.".

Beattie on Poetry and Music, p. 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 8vo edition.

could shew the original; nor can it be shewn by any other. To revenge reasonable incredulity, by refusing evidence, is a degree of insolence, with which the world is not yet acquainted; and stubborn audacity is the last refuge of guilt." Macpherson had the folly to suppose that he could stifle the just indignation of Johnson by intimidation, and he accordingly sent him a letter, in which he threatened, it is said, to have recourse to corporal chastisement. Nothing could, perhaps, be more indicative of conscious guilt than this conduct; and nothing could more decidedly prove his total ignorance of the character and temper of his opponent, who replied to him in the subsequent terms.

"MR. JAMES MACPHERSON,

"I received your foolish and impudent letter. Any violence offered me I shall do my best to repel; and what I cannot do for myself, the law shall do for me. I hope I shall never be deterred from detecting what I think a cheat, by the menaces of a ruffian.

"What would you have me retract? I thought your book an imposture; I think it an imposture still. For this opinion I have given my reasons to the publick, which I here dare you to refute. Your rage I defy. Your abilities, since your Homer, are not so formidable; and what I hear

of your morals, inclines me to pay regard, not to what you shall say, but to what you shall prove. You may print this if you will.

"SAM. JOHNSON."

This spirited defiance effectually cooled the ardour of the editor of Ossian, more especially when he learnt that Johnson had provided himself with an oaken stick, six feet in height, an inch in diameter at the lower end, and three inches near the upper, which was surmounted by a head of the size of an orange; a weapon calculated to make a durable impression when wielded by the gigantic arm of our sturdy moralist.

The opinion of Johnson as to the authenticity of Ossian has gained ground with the public, and there are now few unprejudiced persons who persist in crediting the antiquity of these poems. Whether ancient or modern, however, their merit is certainly considerable; and our author deserves no small portion of censure, for suffering controversial asperity so far to blind him to their beauties, as to declare, that “ many men, many women, and many children, could have written such poems."*

The year 1775 was likewise productive of another event of much importance in his literary

* Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. 1, p. 355.

life; in the month of March, the university of Oxford, at the request of Lord North, conferred on him the degree of Doctor in Civil Law by diploma, accompanying it with the highest praise of his writings and genius. With this dignity, and with the mode of bestowing it, he was much gratified, though, it has been said, he seldom assumed the title.*

In the September also of this year, he made a tour to France with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, and Mr. Baretti, the only time that he ever visited the continent. This excursion occupied about two months, and he preserved minutes of what he saw, with an intention of one day presenting them to the world in a revised and much augmented state; an intention, however, which he never found leisure to execute.

"It is remarkable," observes Mr. Boswell, that he never, so far as I knew, assumed his title of Doctor, but called himself Mr. Johnson, as appears from many of his cards or notes to myself; and I have seen many from him to other persons, in which he uniformly takes that designation. I once observed on his table a letter directed to him with the addition of Esquire, and objected to it as being a designation inferior to that of Doctor; but he checked me, and seemed pleased with it, because, as I conjectured, he liked to be sometimes taken out of the class of literary men, and to be merely genteel-un gentilhomme comme un autre."

A few months after his return from France, he left his house in Johnson's Court, and took a larger in Bolt Court, Fleet-street. Here he had the enjoyment of a garden, and a larger space for his books, which now amounted to five thousand volumes, and occupied the upper floors of the mansion. He continued also to amuse himself with chemistry, and had here, and likewise at Streatham, a laboratory and apparatus.

The charity of Dr. Johnson, the most amiable feature in his character, encreased in proportion to his power; he not only accommodated Miss Williams, in Bolt Court, with a room on the ground floor, but he likewise appropriated an apartment in his house for Mrs. Desmoulins, her daughter, and a Miss Carmichael; allowing the first of these ladies, the daughter of his god-father, Dr. Swinfen, half-a-guinea a week. Indeed, no object of distress or poverty ever left the presence of Johnson, if it fell within his means, unrelieved.

In the year 1777, the compassion of our author was strongly excited by the miserable fate of the Rev. Dr. Dodd, condemned to death for forgery; a man who had been extremely popular as a preacher, had written many theological works, and had been peculiarly active in the encouragement of public charities. Void of all economy, and latterly licentious in his manners,