upon it, sir, when any man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.”  On another occasion, Johnson expressed a doubt himself as to whether Dodd had really composed a certain prayer on the night before his execution.  “Sir, do you think that a man the night before he is to be hanged cares for the succession of the royal family?  Though he may have composed this prayer then.  A man who has been canting all his life may cant to the last; and yet a man who has been refused a pardon after so much petitioning, would hardly be praying thus fervently for the king.”

The last day at Taylor’s was characteristic.  Johnson was very cordial to his disciple, and Boswell fancied that he could defend his master at “the point of his sword.”  “My regard for you,” said Johnson, “is greater almost than I have words to express, but I do not choose to be always repeating it.  Write it down in the first leaf of your pocket-book, and never doubt of it again.”  They became sentimental, and talked of the misery of human life.  Boswell spoke of the pleasures of society.  “Alas, sir,” replied Johnson, like a true pessimist, “these are only struggles for happiness!” He felt exhilarated, he said, when he first went to Ranelagh, but he changed to the mood of Xerxes weeping at the sight of his army.  “It went to my heart to consider that there was not one in all that brilliant circle that was not afraid to go home and think; but that the thoughts of each individual would be distressing when alone.”  Some years before he had gone with Boswell to the Pantheon and taken a more cheerful view.  When Boswell doubted whether there were many happy people present, he said, “Yes, sir, there are many happy people here.  There are many people here who are watching hundreds, and who think hundreds are watching them.”  The more permanent feeling was that which he expressed in the “serene autumn night” in Taylor’s garden.  He was willing, however, to talk calmly about eternal punishment, and to admit the possibility of a “mitigated interpretation.”

After supper he dictated to Boswell an argument in favour of the negro who was then claiming his liberty in Scotland.  He hated slavery with a zeal which the excellent Boswell thought to be “without knowledge;” and on one occasion gave as a toast to some “very grave men” at Oxford, “Here’s to the next insurrection of negroes in the West Indies.”  The hatred was combined with as hearty a dislike for American independence.  “How is it,” he said, “that we always hear the loudest yelps for liberty amongst the drivers of negroes?” The harmony of the evening was unluckily spoilt by an explosion of this prejudice.  Boswell undertook the defence of the colonists, and the discussion became so fierce that though Johnson had expressed a willingness to sit up all night with him, they were glad to part after an hour or two, and go to bed.