SAMUEL JOHNSON, in the
complex magnitude of his literary, moral, and religious character. I
have a wonderful superstitious love of _mystery_; when, perhaps, the
truth is, that it is owing to the cloudy darkness of my own mind. I
should be glad that I am more advanced in my progress of being, so that
I can view Dr. Johnson with a steadier and clearer eye. My
dissatisfaction to-night was foolish. Would it not be foolish to regret
that we shall have less mystery in a future state? That we "now see
in[631] a glass darkly," but shall "then see face to face?"' This
reflection, which I thus freely communicate, will be valued by the
thinking part of my readers, who may have themselves experienced a
similar state of mind.
He returned next day to Streatham, to Mr. Thrale's; where, as Mr.
Strahan once complained to me, 'he was in a great measure absorbed from
the society of his old friends[632].' I was kept in London by business,
and wrote to him on the 27th, that a separation from him for a week,
when we were so near, was equal to a separation for a year, when we were
at four hundred miles distance. I went to Streatham on Monday, March 30.
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