ened by an association with others of distinguished ability. It may, therefore, be inferred, that an Academy of Literature would be an establishment highly useful, and an honour to Literature. In such an institution profitable places would not be wanted. Vatis avarus haud facile est animus; and the minister, who shall find leisure from party and factiou to carry such a scheme into execution, will, in all probability, be respected by posterity as the Mæcenas of letters."

tion. The truth was known, before it was adorned. The Academy saw the marble before the artist polished it. But this country has had no Academy of Literature. The public mind, for centuries, has been engrossed by party and faction; by the madness of many for the gain of a few; by civil wars, religious dissensions, trade and commerce, and the arts of accumulating wealth. Amidst such attentions, who can wonder that cold praise has been often the only reward of merit? In this country Doctor Nathaniel Hodges, who, like the good bishop of Marseilles, We now take leave of Dr. Johnson as an audrew purer breath amidst the contagion of the thor. Four volumes of his Lives of the Poets plague in London, and, during the whole time, were published in 1778, and the work was comcontinued in the city, administering medical as- pleted in 1781. Should Biography fall again sistance, was suffered, as Johnson used to re-into disuse, there will not always be a Johnson late with tears in his eyes, to die for debt in a to look back through a century, and give a body gaol. In this country, the man who brought of critical and moral instruction. In April 1781, the New River to London was ruined by that he lost his friend Mr. Thrale. His own words, noble project; and in this country, Otway died in his diary, will best tell that melancholy event. for want on Tower Hill; Butler, the great author "On Wednesday the 11th of April, was buried of Hudibras, whose name can only die with the my dear friend Mr. Thrale, who died on WedEnglish language, was left to languish in pover-nesday the 4th, and with him were buried many ty, the particulars of his life almost unknown, of my hopes and pleasures. About five, I think, and scarce a vestige of him left except his immor- on Wednesday morning he expired. I felt altal poem. Had there been an Academy of Lite-most the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for rature, the lives, at least, of those celebrated per- the last time upon the face, that, for fifteen years sons would have been written for the benefit of before, had never been turned upon me but with posterity. Swift, it seems, had the idea of such respect and benignity. Farewell! may God, an institution, and proposed it to Lord Oxford; that delighteth in mercy, have had mercy on but Whig and Tory were more important objects. thee! I had constantly prayed for him before It is needless to dissemble that Dr. Johnson, in his death. The decease of him, from whose the Life of Roscommon, talks of the inutility friendship I had obtained many opportunities of of such a project. "In this country," he says, amusement, and to whom I turned my thoughts "an academy could be expected to do but little. as to a refuge from misfortunes, has left me If an Academician's place were profitable, it heavy. But my business is with myself." From would be given by interest; if attendance were the close of his last work, the malady that pergratuitous, it would be rarely paid, and no man secuted him through life, came upon him with would endure the least disgust. Unanimity is alarming severity, and his constitution declined impossible, and debate would separate the as- apace. In 1782 his old friend Levet expired sembly." To this it may be sufficient to an- without warning, and without a groan. Events swer, that the Royal Society has not been dis- like these reminded Johnson of his own morsolved by sullen disgust; and the modern Aca- tality. He continued his visits to Mrs. Thrale demy at Somerset House has already performed at Streatham, to the 7th day of October 1782, much, and promises more. Unanimity is not when having first. composed a prayer for the necessary to such an assembly. On the contra- happiness of a family with whom he had for ry, by difference of opinions, and collision of many years enjoyed the pleasures and comforts sentiment, the cause of literature would thrive of life, he removed to his own house in town. and flourish. The true principles of criticism, He says he was up early in the morning, and the secret of fine writing, the investigation of read fortuitously in the Gospel, which was his antiquities, and other interesting subjects, might parting use of the library. The merit of the faoccasion a clash of opinion; but in that conten-mily is manifested by the sense he had of it, and tion, Truth would receive illustration, and the essays of the several members would supply the memoirs of the Academy. "But," says Dr. Johnson, "suppose the philological decree made The few remaining occurrences may be soon and promulgated, what would be its authority? despatched. In the month of June, 1783, JohnIn absolute government there is sometimes a ge- son had a paralytic stroke, which affected his neral reverence paid to all that has the sanction speech only. He wrote to Dr. Taylor of Westof power, the countenance of greatness. How minster; and to his friend Mr. Allen, the printer, little this is the state of our country needs not be who lived at the next door. Dr. Brocklesby artold. The edicts of an English Academy would rived in a short time, and by his care, and that probably be read by many, only that they may of Dr. Heberden, Johnson soon recovered. be sure to disobey them. The present manners During his illness the writer of this narrative of the nation would deride authority, and there- visited him, and found him reading Dr. Watfore nothing is left, but that every writer should son's Chymistry. Articulating with difficulty, criticise himself." This surely is not conclusive. he said, "From this book he who knows noIt is by the standard of the best writers that thing may learn a great deal; and he who every man settles for himself his plan of legiti-knows, will be pleased to find his knowledge mate composition; and since the authority of superior genius is acknowledged, that authority, which the individual obtains, would not be less

we see his heart overflowing with gratitude. He leaves the place with regret, and casts a lin gering look behind.

recalled to his mind in a manner highly pleasing." In the month of August he set out for Litchfield on a visit to Mrs. Lucy Porter, the

daughter of his wife by her first husband; and, some appearance of health, Johnson went into in his way back paid his respects to Dr. Adams at Oxford. Mrs. Williams died at his house in Bolt Court, in the month of September, during his absence. This was another shock to a mind like his, ever agitated by the thoughts of futurity. The contemplation of his own approaching end was constantly before his eyes; and the prospect of death, he declared, was terrible. For many years, when he was not disposed to enter into the conversation going forward, whoever sat near his chair, might hear him repeating from Shakspeare,

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ;
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod, and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods-

And from Milton,

Who would lose, For fear of pain, this intellectual being?

By the death of Mrs. Williams he was left in a state of destitution, with nobody but Frank, his black servant, to soothe his anxious moments. In November 1783, he was swelled from head to foot with a dropsy. Dr. Brocklesby, with that benevolence with which he always assists his friends, paid his visits with assiduity. The medicines prescribed were so efficacious, that in a few days Johnson, while he was offering up his prayers was suddenly obliged to rise, and, in the course of the day, discharged twenty pints

of water.

Derbyshire, and thence to Litchfield. While he was in that part of the world, his friends in town were labouring for his benefit. The air of a more southern climate they thought might prolong a valuable life. But a pension of £300 a year was a slender fund for a travelling valetudinarian, and it was not then known that he had saved a moderate sum of money. Mr. Boswell and Sir Joshua Reynolds undertook to solicit the patronage of the Chancellor. With Lord Thurlow, while he was at the bar, Johnson was well acquainted. He was often heard to say, "Thurlow is a man of such vigour of mind, that I never knew I was to meet him, but I was going to say, I was afraid, but that would not be true, for I never was afraid of any man; but I never knew that I was to meet Thurlow, but I knew I had something to encounter." The Chancellor undertook to recommend Johnson's case; but without success. To protract if possible the days of a man whom he respected, he offered to advance the sum of five hundred pounds. Being informed of this at Litchfield, Johnson wrote the following letter:

"My Lord,

"After a long and not inattentive observation of mankind, the generosity of your Lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder than gratitude. Bounty, so liberally bestowed, I should gladly receive if my condition made it necessary; for to such a mind who would not be proud to own his obligations? But it has pleased God to restore me to so great a measure of health, that if I should now appropriate so much of a fortune Johnson, being eased of his dropsy, began to destined to do good, I could not escape from entertain hopes that the vigour of his constitu- myself the charge of advancing a false claim. tion was not entirely broken. For the sake of My journey to the continent, though I once conversing with his friends, he established a thought it necessary, was never much encou conversation club, to meet on every Wednesday raged by my physicians; and I was very desirous evening; and to serve a man whom he had that your Lordship should be told it by Sir Joshua known in Mr. Thrale's household for many Reynolds as an event very uncertain; for if I years, the place was fixed at his house in Essex-grew much better, I should not be willing; if street, near the Temple. To answer the malig- much worse, I should not be able to migrate. nant remarks of Sir John Hawkins on this sub- Your Lordship was first solicited without my ject, were a wretched waste of time. Profess-knowledge; but when I was told that you were ing to be Johnson's friend, that biographer has raised more objections to his character, than all the enemies to that excellent man. Sir John had a root of bitterness that put rancours in the vessel of his peace. Fielding, he says, was the inventor of a cant phrase, Goodness of heart, which means little more than the virtue of a horse or a dog. He should have known that kind affections are the essence of virtue: they are the will of God implanted in our nature, to aid and strengthen moral obligation; they incite to action; a sense of benevolence is no less necessary than a sense of duty. Good affections are an ornament not only to an author, but to his writings. He who shows himself upon a cold scent for opportunities to bark and snarl throughout a volume of six hundred pages, may, if he will, pretend to moralize; but Goodness of Heart, or, to use that politer phrase, the virtue of a horse or a dog, would redound more to his honour. But Sir John is no more: our business is with Johnson. The members of his club were respectable for their rank, their talents, and their literature. They attended with punctuality till about Midsummer 1784, when, with

pleased to honour me with your patronage, I did not expect to hear of a refusal; yet, as I have had no long time to brood hopes, and have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold reception has been scarce a disappointment; and from your Lordship's kindness I have received a benefit which only men like you are able to bestow. I shall now live mihi carior, with a higher opinion of my own merit.

I am, my Lord,

Your Lordship's most obliged, most grateful, and most humble servant, SAMUEL JOHNSON. "Sept. 1784."

We have in this instance the exertion of two congenial minds: one, with a generous impulse relieving merit in distress; and the other, by gratitude and dignity of sentiment, rising to an equal elevation.

It seems, however, that greatness of mind is not confined to greatness of rank. Dr. Brocklesby was not content to assist with his medical art; he resolved to minister to his patient's mind, and pluck from his memory the sorrow which the

late refusal from a high quarter might occasion. To enable him to visit the south of France in pursuit of health, he offered from his own funds an annuity of one hundred pounds, payable quarterly. This was a sweet oblivious antidote, but it was not accepted for the reasons assigned to the Chancellor. The proposal, however, will do honour to Dr. Brocklesby, as long as liberal sentiment shall be ranked among the social virtues.

of literary intelligence in Mr. Swinton's own
hand, or to deposit it in the Museum,* that the
veracity of this account may never be doubted.
"I am, Sir,
"Your most humble servant,
SAM. JOHNSON."

Dec. 6, 1784.

Mr. Swinton.

The History of the Carthaginians, Numidians, Mauritinians, Gætulians, Garamantes, Melano-Gætulians, Nigrita, Cyrenaica, Marmarica, Regio Syrtica, Turks, Tartars, and Moguls, Indians, Chinese, Dissertation on the peopling of America, Dissertation on the Independency of the Arabs.

The Cosmogony, and a small part of the history immediately following. By M. Sale.

Shelvock.

In the month of October, 1784, we find Dr. Johnson corresponding with Mr. Nichols, the intelligent compiler of the Gentleman's Magazine, and, in the languor of sickness, still desirous to contribute all in his power to the advancement of science and useful knowledge. He says, in a letter to that gentleman, dated Litchfield, October 20, that he should be glad to give so skilful a lover of antiquities any information. He adds, "At Ashburne, where I had very little company, I had the luck to borrow Mr. Bowyer's Life, a book so full of contemporary history, that a literary man must find some of his old friends. I thought that I could now and then have told you some hints worth your notice: We perhaps may talk a life over. I hope we shall be much together. You must now be to me what you were before, and what dear Mr.quested to see Mr. Nichols. A few days before, Allen was besides. He was taken unexpectedly . away, but I think he was a very good man. I have made very little progress in recovery. I am very weak, and very sleepless; but I live on and hope."

In that languid condition he arrived, on the 16th of November, at his house in Bolt Court, there to end his days. He laboured with the dropsy and an asthma. He was attended by Dr. Heberden, Dr. Warren, Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Butter, and Mr. Cruikshank, the eminent surgeon. Eternity, presented to his mind an awful prospect, and, with as much virtue as perhaps ever is the lot of man, he shuddered at the thought of his dissolution. His friends awakened the comfortable reflection of a well-spent life; and, as his end drew near, they had the satisfaction of seeing him composed, and even cheerful, insomuch that he was able, in the course of his restless nights, to make translations of Greek epigrams from the Anthologia; and to compose a Latin epitaph for his father, his mother, and his brother Nathaniel. He meditated, at the same time, a Latin inscription to the memory of Garrick; but his vigour was exhausted.

His love of literature was a passion that stuck to his last sand. Seven days before his death he wrote the following letter to his friend Mr. Nichols:

To the Birth of Abraham. Chiefly by Mr.
History of the Jews, Gauls, and Spaniards. By
Mr. Psalmanazar.
Xenophon's Retreat. By the same.
History of the Persians, and the Constantino-
politan Empire. By Dr. Campbell.
History of the Romans. By Mr. Bower.t

On the morning of Dec. 7, Dr. Johnson re

he had borrowed some of the early volumes of the Magazine, with a professed intention to point out the pieces which he had written in that collection. The books lay on the table, with many leaves doubled down, and in partiticular those which contained his share in the Parliamentary Debates. Such was the goodness of Johnson's heart, that he then declared, that "those debates were the only parts of his writings which gave him any compunction: but that at the time he wrote them he had no conception that he was imposing upon the world, though they were frequently written from very slender materials, and often from none at all, the mere coinage of his own imagination." He added, "that he never wrote any part of his work with equal velocity. Three columns of the Magazine in an hour," he said, "was no uncommon effort; which was faster than most persons could have transcribed that quantity. In one day in particular, and that not a very long one, he wrote twelve pages, more in quantity than ever he wrote at any other time, except in the Life of Savage, of which forty-eight pages in octavo were the production of one long day, including a part of the night."

In the course of the conversation he asked, whether any of the family of Faden the printer, were living. Being told that the geographer near Charing-Cross was Faden's son, he said, after a short pause, "I borrowed a guinea of his father near thirty years ago; be so good as to take this, and pay it for me."

xxiv

Wishing to discharge every duty, and every obligation, Johnson recollected another debt of ten pounds which he had borrowed from his friend Mr. Hamilton the printer, about twenty years before. He sent the money to Mr. Hamilton, at his house in Bedford-Row, with an apology for the length of time. The Reverend Mr. Strahan was the bearer of the message, about four or five days before Johnson breathed his last.

amusement, or the pleasure of discussion, Criticism has endeavoured to make him answerable for what, perhaps, he never seriously thought. His diary, which has been printed, discovers still more. We have before us the very heart of the man, with all his inward consciousness. And yet neither in the open paths of life, nor in his secret recesses, has any one vice been discovered. We see him reviewing every year of his life, and severely censuring himself for not keepMr. Sastress (whom Dr. Johnson esteemed ing resolutions, which morbid melancholy, and and mentioned in his will) entered the room other bodily infirmities, rendered impracticable. during his illness. Dr. Johnson, as soon as he We see him for every little defect imposing on saw him, stretched forth his hand, and, in a himself voluntary penance, going through the tone of lamentation, called out, JAM MORITU-day with only one cup of tea without milk, and RUS! But the love of life was still an active to the last, amidst paroxysms and remissions of Many of his scruples may principle. Feeling himself swelled with the illness, forming plans of study and resolutions dropsy, he conceived that by incisions in his to amend his life.* legs, the water might be discharged. Mr. Cruik-be called weaknesses; but they are the weakshank apprehended that a mortification might nesses of a good, a pious and most excellent be the consequence; but, to appease a distem- man. pered fancy, he gently lanced the surface. Johnson cried out, Deeper, deeper! I want length of life, and you are afraid of giving me pain, which I do not value."

66

On the 8th of December, the Reverend Mr. Strahan drew his will, by which, after a few legacies, the residue, amounting to about fifteen hundred pounds, was bequeathed to Frank, the black servant, formerly consigned to the testator by his friend Dr. Bathurst.

His person, it is well-known, was large and unwieldy. His nerves were affected by that disorder, for which, at two years of age, he was presented to the royal touch. His head shook, and involuntary motions made it uncertain that his legs and arms would, even at a tea-table, remain in their proper place. A person of Lord Chesterfield's delicacy might in his company be in a fever.

He would sometimes of his own accord do things inconsistent with the establishThe history of a death-bed is painful. Mr. ed modes of behaviour. Sitting at table with Strahan informs us, that the strength of religion the celebrated Mrs. Cholmondeley, who exerted prevailed against the infirmity of nature; and herself to circulate the subscription for Shakhis foreboding dread of the Divine Justice sub-speare, he took hold of her hand in the middle sided into a pious trust and humble hope of of dinner, and held it close to his eye, wondering mercy at the Throne of Grace. On Monday at the delicacy and whiteness, till with a smile the 13th day of December (the last of his exist- she asked, "Will he give it to me again when ence on this side the grave,) the desire of life he has done with it?" The exteriors of politeHe ness did not belong to Johnson. Even that cireturned with all its former vehemence. still imagined, that, by puncturing his legs re-vility which proceeds, or ought to proceed, from lief might be obtained. At eight in the morn- the mind, was sometimes violated. His morbid ing he tried the experiment, but no water fol- melancholy had an effect on his temper; his lowed. In an hour or two after he fell into passions were irritable; and the pride of science, a doze, and about seven in the evening expired as well as of a fierce, independent spirit, inflamed him on some occasions above all bounds without a groan. of moderation. Though not in the shade of academic bowers, he led a scholastic life; and the habit of pronouncing decisions to his friends and visitors gave him a dictatorial manner, which was much enforced by a voice naturally loud, and often overstretched. Metaphysical discussion, moral theory, systems of religion, and anecdotes of literature, were his favourite topics. General history had little of his regard. The proper study of Biography was his delight. mankind is man. Sooner than hear of the Punic war, he would be rude to the person that introduced the subject.

On the 20th of the month his remains, with due solemnities, and a numerous attendance of his friends, were buried in Westminster Abbey, near the foot of Shakspeare's monument, and close to the grave of the late Mr. Garrick. The funeral service was read by his friend Dr. Taylor.

A black marble over his grave has the following inscription:

SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D.
obiit xII die Decembris,
Anno Domini

MDCCLXXXIV.
Etatis suæ LXXV.

If we now look back, as from an eminence, to view the scenes of life, and the literary labours in which Dr. Johnson was engaged, we may be able to delineate the features of the man, and to form an estimate of his genius.

As a man, Dr. Johnson stands displayed in open daylight. Nothing remains undiscovered. Whatever he said is known; and without allowing him the usual privilege of hazarding sentiments, and advancing positions, for mere

Johnson was born a logician; one of those, to whom only books of logic are said to be of use. In consequence of his skill in that art, he loved argumentation. No man thought more profoundly, nor with such acute discernment. A fallacy could not stand before him; it was sure to be refuted by strength of reasoning, and a precision both in idea and expression almost unequalled. When he chose by apt illustration to place the argument of his adversary in a lu

On the subject of voluntary penance, see the Ram bler, No. CX.

dicrous light, one was almost inclined to think | ridicule the test of truth. He was surprised to be told, but it was certainly true, that, with great powers of mind, wit and humour were his shining talents. That he often argued for the sake of triumph over his adversary, cannot be dissembled. Dr. Rose, of Chiswick, has been heard to tell of a friend of his, who thanked him for introducing him to Dr. Johnson, as he had been convinced, in the course of a long dispute, that an opinion, which he had embraced as a settled truth, was no better than a vulgar error. This being reported to Johnson, "Nay," said he, "do not let him be thankful, for he was right, and I was wrong." Like his uncle Andrew, in the ring at Smithfield, Johnson, in a circle of disputants, was determined neither to be thrown nor conquered. Notwithstanding all his piety, seif-government, or the command of his passions in conversation, does not seem to have been among his attainments. Whenever he thought the contention was for superiority, he has been known to break out with violence, and even ferocity. When the fray was over, he generally softened into repentance, and, by conciliating measures, took care that no animosity should be left rankling in the breast of his antagonist. Of this defect he seems to have been conscious. In a letter to Mrs. Thrale, he says, "Poor Baretti! do not quarrel with him; to neglect him a little will be sufficient. He means only to be frank and manly, and independent, and perhaps, as you say a little wise. To be frank, he thinks, is to be cynical; and to be independent, is to be rude. Forgive him, dearest lady, the rather, because of his misbehaviour I am afraid he learned part of me. I hope to set him hereafter a better example." For his own intolerant and overbearing spirit he apologized by observing, that it had done some good; obscenity and impiety were repressed in his company.

In

It was late in life before he had the habit of mixing, otherwise than occasionally, with polite company. At Mr. Thrale's, he saw a constant succession of well-accomplished visitors. that society he began to wear off the rugged points of his own character. He saw the advantages of mutual civility, and endeavoured to profit by the models before him. He aimed at what has been called by Swift the lesser morals, and by Cicero minores virtutes. His endeavour, though new and late, gave pleasure to all his acquaintance. Men were glad to see that he was willing to be communicative on equal terms and reciprocal complaisance. The time was then expected when he was to cease being what George Garrick, brother to the celebrated actor, called him the first time he heard him converse, "A TREMENDOUS COMPANION." He certainly wished to be polite, and even thought himself so; but his civility still retained something uncouth and harsh. His manners took a milder tone, but the endeavour was too palpably seen. He laboured even in trifles. He was a giant gaining a purchase to lift a feather.

It is observed by the younger Pliny, that in the confines of virtue and great qualities there are generally vices of an opposite nature. In Dr. Johnson not one ingredient can take the name of vice. From his attainments in literature grew the pride of knowledge; and from his powers of reasoning, the love of disputation and the (d)

vainglory of superior vigour. His piety, in some instances, bordered on superstition. He was willing to believe in preternatural agency, and thought it not more strange that there should be evil spirits than evil men. Even the question about second sight held him in suspense. "Second sight," Mr. Pennant tells us, "is a power of seeing images impressed on the organs of sight by the power of fancy, or on the fancy by the disordered spirits operating on the mind. It is the faculty of seeing spectres or visions, which represent an event actually pass. ing at a distance, or likely to happen at a future day. In 1771, a gentleman, the last who was supposed to be possessed of this faculty, had a boat at sea in a tempestuous night, and, being anxious for his freight, suddenly started up, and said his men would be drowned, for he had seen them pass before him with wet garments and dripping locks. The event corresponded with his disordered fancy. And thus," continues Mr. Pennant, "a distempered imagination, clouded with anxiety, may make an impression on the spirits; as persons, restless and troubled with indignation, see various forms and figures while they lie awake in bed." This is what Dr. Johnson was not willing to reject. He wished for some positive proof of communications with another world. His benevolence embraced the whole race of man, and yet was tinctured with particular prejudices. He was pleased with the minister in the Isle of Sky, and loved him so much that he began to wish him not a Presbyterian. To that body of Dissenters his zeal for the Established Church made him in some degree an adversary; and his attachment to a mixed and limited Monarchy led him to declare open war against what he called a sullen Republican. He would rather praise a man of Oxford than of Cambridge. He disliked a Whig, and loved a Tory. These were the shades of his character, which it has been the business of certain party-writers to represent in the darkest colours.

Since virtue, or moral goodness, consists in a just conformity of our actions to the relations in which we stand to the Supreme Being and to our fellow creatures, where shall we find a man who has been, or endeavoured to be, more diligent in the discharge of those essential duties? His first prayer was composed in 1738; he continued those fervent ejaculations of piety to the end of his life. In his Meditations we see him scrutinizing himself with severity, and aiming at perfection unattainable by man. His duty to his neighbour consisted in universal benevolence, and a constant aim at the production of happiness. Who was more sincere and steady in his friendships? It has been said that there was no real affection between him and Garrick. On the part of the latter, there might be some corrosions of jealousy. The character of PROS PERO, in the Rambler, No. 200, was, beyond all question, occasioned by Garrick's ostentatious display of furniture and Dresden china. It was surely fair to take from this incident a hint for a moral essay; and though no more was intended, Garrick, we are told, remembered it with unea siness. He was also hurt that his Litchfield friend did not think so highly of his dramatic art as the rest of the world." The fact was, Johnson could not see the passions as they rose