'I am, dear Sir,
Your obliged and most humble servant, SAM, JOHNSON. June 23, 1781.'
'To THOMAS ASTLE, Esq.[423]
'SIR,
'I am ashamed that you have been forced to call so often for your books,
but it has been by no fault on either side. They have never been out of
my hands, nor have I ever been at home without seeing you; for to see a
man so skilful in the antiquities of my country, is an opportunity of
improvement not willingly to be missed.
'Your notes on Alfred[424] appear to me very judicious and accurate, but
they are too few. Many things familiar to you, are unknown to me, and to
most others; and you must not think too favourably of your readers: by
supposing them knowing, you will leave them ignorant. Measure of land,
and value of money, it is of great importance to state with care. Had
the Saxons any gold coin?
'I have much curiosity after the manners and transactions of the middle
ages, but have wanted either diligence or opportunity, or both. You,
Sir, have great opportunities, and I wish you both diligence
and success.
'I am, Sir, &c. SAM. JOHNSON. July 17, 1781.'
The following curious anecdote I insert in Dr. Burney's own words:--
'Dr. Burney related to Dr. Johnson the partiality which his writings had
excited in a friend of Dr. Burney's, the late Mr. Bewley, well known in
Norfolk by the name of the _Philosopher of Massingham_[425]: who, from
the _Ramblers_ and Plan of his _Dictionary_, and long before the
authour's fame was established by the _Dictionary_ itself, or any other
work, had conceived such a reverence for him, that he urgently begged
Dr. Burney to give him the cover of the first letter he had received
from him, as a relick of so estimable a writer. This was in 1755. In
1760[426], when Dr. Burney visited Dr. Johnson at the Temple in London,
where he had then Chambers, he happened to arrive there before he was
up; and being shewn into the room where he was to breakfast, finding
himself alone, he examined the contents of the apartment, to try whether
he could undiscovered steal any thing to send to his friend Bewley, as
another relick of the admirable Dr. Johnson. But finding nothing better
to his purpose, he cut some bristles off his hearth-broom, and enclosed
them in a letter to his country enthusiast, who received them with due
reverence. The Doctor was so sensible of the honour done him by a man of
genius and science, to whom he was an utter stranger, that he said to
Dr. Burney, "Sir, there is no man possessed of the smallest portion of
modesty, but must be flattered with the admiration of such a man. I'll
give him a set of my _Lives_, if he will do me the honour to accept of
them[427]." In this he kept his word; and Dr. Burney had not only the
pleasure of gratifying his friend with a present more worthy of his
acceptance than the segment from the hearth-broom, but soon after of
introducing him to Dr. Johnson himself in Bolt-court, with whom he had
the satisfaction of conversing a considerable time, not a fortnight
before his death; which happened in St. Martin's-street, during his
visit to Dr. Burney, in the house where the great Sir Isaac Newton had
lived and died before.'
In one of his little memorandum-books is the following minute:--
'August 9, 3 P.M., aetat. 72, in the summer-house at Streatham. After
innumerable resolutions formed and neglected, I have retired hither, to
plan a life of greater diligence, in hope that I may yet be useful, and
be daily better prepared to appear before my Creator and my Judge, from
whose infinite mercy I humbly call for assistance and support.
'My purpose is,
'To pass eight hours every day in some serious employment.
'Having prayed, I purpose to employ the next six weeks upon the Italian
language, for my settled study.'
How venerably pious does he appear in these moments of solitude, and how
spirited are his resolutions for the improvement of his mind, even in
elegant literature, at a very advanced period of life, and when
afflicted with many complaints[428].
In autumn he went to Oxford, Birmingham, Lichfield, and Ashbourne, for
which very good reasons might be given in the conjectural yet positive
manner of writers, who are proud to account for every event which they
relate[429]. He himself, however, says,
'The motives of my journey I hardly know; I omitted it last year, and am
not willing to miss it again[430].'
But some good considerations arise, amongst which is the kindly
recollection of Mr. Hector, surgeon at Birmingham:
'Hector is likewise an old friend, the only companion of my childhood
that passed through the school with me. We have always loved one
another; perhaps we may be made better by some serious conversation, of
which however I have no distinct hope.'
He says too,
'At Lichfield, my native place, I hope to shew a good example by
frequent attendance on publick worship.'
My correspondence with him during the rest of this year was I know not
why very scanty, and all on my side. I wrote him one letter to introduce
Mr. Sinclair (now Sir John), the member for Caithness, to his
acquaintance; and informed him in another that my wife had again been
affected with alarming symptoms of illness.
1782: AETAT. 73.--In 1782, his complaints increased, and the history of
his life this year, is little more than a mournful recital of the
variations of his illness, in the midst of which, however, it will
appear from his letters, that the powers of his mind were in no
degree impaired.
'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.
'DEAR SIR,
'I sit down to answer your letter on the same day in which I received
it, and am pleased that my first letter of the year is to you. No man
ought to be at ease while he knows himself in the wrong; and I have not
satisfied myself with my long silence. The letter relating to Mr.
Sinclair, however, was, I believe, never brought.
'My health has been tottering this last year; and I can give no very
laudable account of my time. I am always hoping to do better than I have
ever hitherto done.
'My journey to Ashbourne and Staffordshire was not pleasant; for what
enjoyment has a sick man visiting the sick[431]?--Shall we ever have
another frolick like our journey to the Hebrides?
'I hope that dear Mrs. Boswell will surmount her complaints; in losing
her you would lose your anchor, and be tost, without stability, by the
waves of life[432]. I wish both her and you very many years, and
very happy.
'For some months past I have been so withdrawn from the world, that I
can send you nothing particular. All your friends, however, are well,
and will be glad of your return to London.
'I am, dear Sir,
'Yours most affectionately,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'January 5, 1782.'
At a time when he was less able than he had once been to sustain a
shock, he was suddenly deprived of Mr. Levett, which event he thus
communicated to Dr. Lawrence:--
'SIR,
'Our old friend, Mr. Levett, who was last night eminently cheerful, died
this morning. The man who lay in the same room, hearing an uncommon
noise, got up and tried to make him speak, but without effect. He then
called Mr. Holder, the apothecary, who, though when he came he thought
him dead, opened a vein, but could draw no blood. So has ended the long
life of a very useful and very blameless man.
'I am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Jan. 17, 1782.'
In one of his memorandum-books in my possession, is the following
entry:--
'January 20, Sunday. Robert Levett was buried in the church-yard of
Bridewell, between one and two in the afternoon. He died on Thursday 17,
about seven in the morning, by an instantaneous death. He was an old and
faithful friend; I have known him from about 46. _Commendavi_. May GOD
have mercy on him. May he have mercy on me.'
Such was Johnson's affectionate regard for Levett[433], that he honoured
his memory with the following pathetick verses:--
'Condemd'd to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blast or slow decline
Our social comforts drop away.
Well try'd through many a varying year,
See LEVETT to the grave descend;
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend[434].
Yet still he fills affection's eye,
Obscurely wise[435], and coarsely kind;
Nor, letter'd arrogance[436], deny
Thy praise to merit unrefin'd.
When fainting Nature call'd for aid,
And hov'ring Death prepar'd the blow,
His vigorous remedy display'd
The power of art without the show.
In Misery's darkest caverns known,
His ready help was ever nigh,
Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan,
And lonely want retir'd to die[437].
No summons mock'd by chill delay,
No petty gains disdain'd by pride;
The modest wants of every day
The toil of every day supply'd.
His virtues walk'd their narrow round,
Nor made a pause, nor left a void;
And sure the Eternal Master found
His single talent well employ'd.
The busy day, the peaceful night[438],
Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;
His frame was firm, his powers were bright,
Though now his eightieth year was nigh[439].
Then, with no throbs of fiery pain,
No cold gradations of decay,
Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way.'
In one of Johnson's registers of this year, there occurs the following
curious passage:--
'Jan. 20[440]. The Ministry is dissolved. I prayed with Francis and gave
thanks[441].'
It has been the subject of discussion, whether there are two distinct
particulars mentioned here? or that we are to understand the giving of
thanks to be in consequence of the dissolution of the Ministry? In
support of the last of these conjectures may be urged his mean opinion
of that Ministry, which has frequently appeared in the course of this
work[442]; and it is strongly confirmed by what he said on the subject
to Mr. Seward:--'I am glad the Ministry is removed. Such a bunch of
imbecility never disgraced a country[443]. If they sent a messenger into
the City to take up a printer, the messenger was taken up instead of
the printer, and committed by the sitting Alderman[444]. If they sent
one army to the relief of another, the first army was defeated and taken
before the second arrived[445]. I will not say that what they did was
always wrong; but it was always done at a wrong time[446].'
'TO MRS. STRAHAN.
'DEAR MADAM,
'Mrs. Williams shewed me your kind letter. This little habitation is now
but a melancholy place, clouded with the gloom of disease and death. Of
the four inmates, one has been suddenly snatched away; two are oppressed
by very afflictive and dangerous illness; and I tried yesterday to gain
some relief by a third bleeding, from a disorder which has for some time
distressed me, and I think myself to-day much better.
'I am glad, dear Madam, to hear that you are so far recovered as to go
to Bath. Let me once more entreat you to stay till your health is not
only obtained, but confirmed. Your fortune is such as that no moderate
expence deserves your care; and you have a husband, who, I believe, does
not regard it. Stay, therefore, till you are quite well. I am, for my
part, very much deserted; but complaint is useless. I hope GOD will
bless you, and I desire you to form the same wish for me.
'I am, dear Madam,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Feb. 4, 1782.'
'To EDMOND MALONE, ESQ.
'SIR,
'I have for many weeks been so much out of order, that I have gone out
only in a coach to Mrs. Thrale's, where I can use all the freedom that
sickness requires. Do not, therefore, take it amiss, that I am not with
you and Dr. Farmer. I hope hereafter to see you often.
'I am, Sir,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Feb. 27, 1782.'
To THE SAME.
'DEAR SIR,
'I hope I grow better, and shall soon be able to enjoy the kindness of
my friends. I think this wild adherence to Chatterton[447] more
unaccountable than the obstinate defence of Ossian. In Ossian there is a
national pride, which may be forgiven, though it cannot be applauded. In
Chatterton there is nothing but the resolution to say again what has
once been said.
'I am, Sir,
'Your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'March 7, 1782.'
These short letters shew the regard which Dr. Johnson entertained for
Mr. Malone, who the more he is known is the more highly valued. It is
much to be regretted that Johnson was prevented from sharing the elegant
hospitality of that gentleman's table, at which he would in every
respect have been fully gratified. Mr. Malone, who has so ably
succeeded him as an Editor of Shakspeare, has, in his Preface, done
great and just honour to Johnson's memory.
'TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD.
'DEAR MADAM,
'I went away from Lichfield ill, and have had a troublesome time with my
breath; for some weeks I have been disordered by a cold, of which I
could not get the violence abated, till I had been let blood three
times. I have not, however, been so bad but that I could have written,
and am sorry that I neglected it.
'My dwelling is but melancholy; both Williams, and Desmoulins, and
myself, are very sickly: Frank is not well; and poor Levett died in his
bed the other day, by a sudden stroke; I suppose not one minute passed
between health and death; so uncertain are human things.
'Such is the appearance of the world about me; I hope your scenes are
more cheerful. But whatever befalls us, though it is wise to be serious,
it is useless and foolish, and perhaps sinful, to be gloomy. Let us,
therefore, keep ourselves as easy as we can; though the loss of friends
will be felt, and poor Levett had been a faithful adherent for
thirty years.
'Forgive me, my dear love, the omission of writing; I hope to mend that
and my other faults. Let me have your prayers.
'Make my compliments to Mrs. Cobb, and Miss Adey, and Mr. Pearson, and
the whole company of my friends.
I am, my dear,
'Your most humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'London, March 2, 1782.'
TO THE SAME.
'DEAR MADAM,
'My last was but a dull letter, and I know not that this will be much
more cheerful; I am, however, willing to write, because you are desirous
to hear from me.
'My disorder has now begun its ninth week, for it is not yet over. I was
last Thursday blooded for the fourth time, and have since found myself
much relieved, but I am very tender and easily hurt; so that since we
parted I have had but little comfort, but I hope that the spring will
recover me; and that in the summer I shall see Lichfield again, for I
will not delay my visit another year to the end of autumn.
'I have, by advertising, found poor Mr. Levett's brothers in Yorkshire,
who will take the little he has left: it is but little, yet it will be
welcome, for I believe they are of very low condition.
'To be sick, and to see nothing but sickness and death, is but a gloomy
state; but I hope better times, even in this world, will come, and
whatever this world may withhold or give, we shall be happy in a better
state. Pray for me, my dear Lucy.
'Make my compliments to Mrs. Cobb, and Miss Adey, and my old friend
Hetty Baily, and to all the Lichfield ladies.
'I am, dear Madam,
'Yours, affectionately,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Bolt-court, Fleet-street,
March 19, 1782.'
On the day on which this letter was written, he thus feelingly mentions
his respected friend and physician, Dr. Lawrence:--
'Poor Lawrence has almost lost the sense of hearing; and I have lost the
conversation of a learned, intelligent, and communicative companion, and
a friend whom long familiarity has much endeared. Lawrence is one of the
best men whom I have known.--_Nostrum omnium miserere Deus_[448].'
It was Dr. Johnson's custom when he wrote to Dr. Lawrence concerning his
own health, to use the Latin language[449]. I have been favoured by Miss
