Mr. Dyson with an ardour of friendship.'
In the Life of LYTTELTON, Johnson seems to have been not favourably disposed towards that nobleman[193]. Mrs. Thrale suggests that he was offended by Molly Aston's[194] preference of his Lordship to him[195]. I can by no means join in the censure bestowed by Johnson on his Lordship, whom he calls 'poor Lyttelton,' for returning thanks to the Critical Reviewers for having 'kindly commended' his Dialogues of the Dead. Such 'acknowledgements (says my friend) never can be proper, since they must be paid either for flattery or for justice.' In my opinion, the most upright man, who has been tried on a false accusation, may, when he is acquitted, make a bow to his jury. And when those who are so much the arbiters of literary merit, as in a considerable degree to influence the publick opinion, review an authour's work, placido lumine[196], when I am afraid mankind in general are better pleased with severity, he may surely express a grateful sense of their civility[197].
Various Readings in the Life of LYTTELTON.
'He solaced [himself] his grief by writing a long poem to her memory.
The production rather [of a mind that means well than thinks vigorously] as it seems of leisure than of study, rather effusions than compositions.
His last literary [work] production.
[Found the way] undertook to persuade.'
As the introduction to his critical examination of the genius and writings of YOUNG, he did Mr. Herbert Croft[198], then a Barrister of Lincoln's-inn, now a clergyman, the honour to adopt[199] a Life of Young written by that gentleman, who was the friend of Dr. Young's son, and wished to vindicate him from some very erroneous remarks to his prejudice. Mr. Croft's performance was subjected to the revision of Dr. Johnson, as appears from the following note to Mr. John Nichols[200]:—
'This Life of Dr. Young was written by a friend of his son. What is crossed with black is expunged by the authour, what is crossed with red is expunged by me. If you find any thing more that can be well omitted, I shall not be sorry to see it yet shorter[201]'
It has always appeared to me to have a considerable share of merit, and to display a pretty successful imitation of Johnson's style. When I mentioned this to a very eminent literary character[202], he opposed me vehemently, exclaiming, 'No, no, it is not a good imitation of Johnson; it has all his pomp without his force; it has all the nodosities of the oak without its strength.' This was an image so happy, that one might have thought he would have been satisfied with it; but he was not. And setting his mind again to work, he added, with exquisite felicity, 'It has all the contortions of the Sybil, without the inspiration.'