most humble servant.'
'To MR. PERKINS. 'DEAR SIR,
'I cannot but flatter myself that your kindness for me will make you
glad to know where I am, and in what state.
'I have been struggling very hard with my diseases. My breath has been
very much obstructed, and the water has attempted to encroach upon me
again. I past the first part of the summer at Oxford, afterwards I went
to Lichfield, thence to Ashbourne, in Derbyshire, and a week ago I
returned to Lichfield.
'My breath is now much easier, and the water is in a great measure run
away, so that I hope to see you again before winter.
'Please to make my compliments to Mrs. Perkins, and to Mr. and Mrs.
Barclay.
'I am, dear Sir, 'Your most humble servant, 'SAM. JOHNSON.' 'Lichfield,
Oct. 4, 1784.'
'To THE RIGHT HON. WILLIAM GERARD HAMILTON. 'DEAR SIR,
'Considering what reason[1124] you gave me in the spring to conclude
that you took part in whatever good or evil might befal me, I ought not
to have omitted so long the account which I am now about to give you. My
diseases are an asthma and a dropsy, and, what is less curable,
seventy-five. Of the dropsy, in the beginning of the summer, or in the
spring, I recovered to a degree which struck with wonder both me and my
physicians: the asthma now is likewise, for a time, very much relieved.
I went to Oxford, where the asthma was very tyrannical, and the dropsy
began again to threaten me; but seasonable physick stopped the
inundation: I then returned to London, and in July took a resolution to
visit Staffordshire and Derbyshire, where I am yet struggling with my
diseases. The dropsy made another attack, and was not easily ejected,
but at last gave way. The asthma suddenly remitted in bed, on the 13th
of August, and, though now very oppressive, is, I think, still something
gentler than it was before the remission. My limbs are miserably
debilitated, and my nights are sleepless and tedious. When you read
this, dear Sir, you are not sorry that I wrote no sooner. I will not
prolong my complaints. I hope still to see you _in a happier
hour_[1125], to talk over what we have often talked, and perhaps to find
new topicks of merriment, or new incitements to curiosity. I am, dear
Sir, &c. SAM. JOHNSON. Lichfield, Oct. 20, 1784.'
'TO JOHN PARADISE, ESQ.[1126]
DEAR SIR,
Though in all my summer's excursion I have given you no account of
myself, I hope you think better of me than to imagine it possible for me
to forget you, whose kindness to me has been too great and too constant
not to have made its impression on a harder breast than mine. Silence is
not very culpable when nothing pleasing is suppressed. It would have
alleviated none of your complaints to have read my vicissitudes of evil.
I have struggled hard with very formidable and obstinate maladies; and
though I cannot talk of health, think all praise due to my Creator and
Preserver for the continuance of my life. The dropsy has made two
attacks, and has given way to medicine; the asthma is very oppressive,
but that has likewise once remitted. I am very weak, and very sleepless;
but it is time to conclude the tale of misery. I hope, dear Sir, that
you grow better, for you have likewise your share of human evil, and
that your lady and the young charmers are well.
I am, dear Sir, &c. SAM. JOHNSON.
Lichfield, Oct. 20, 1784.'
'To Mr. George Nicol[1127].
'Dear Sir,
'Since we parted, I have been much oppressed by my asthma, but it has
lately been less laborious. When I sit I am almost at ease, and I can
walk, though yet very little, with less difficulty for this week past,
than before. I hope I shall again enjoy my friends, and that you and I
shall have a little more literary conversation. Where I now am, every
thing is very liberally provided for me but conversation. My friend is
sick himself, and the reciprocation of complaints and groans affords not
much of either pleasure or instruction. What we have not at home this
town does not supply, and I shall be glad of a little imported
intelligence, and hope that you will bestow, now and then, a little time
on the relief and entertainment of, Sir, 'Yours, &c. 'Sam. Johnson.'
'Ashbourne, Aug. 19, 1784.'
'To Mr. Cruikshank.
'Dear Sir,
'Do not suppose that I forget you; I hope I shall never be accused of
forgetting my benefactors[1128]. I had, till lately, nothing to write
but complaints upon complaints, of miseries upon miseries; but within
this fortnight I have received great relief. Have your Lectures any
vacation? If you are released from the necessity of daily study, you may
find time for a letter to me. [In this letter he states the particulars
of his case.] In return for this account of my health, let me have a
good account of yours, and of your prosperity in all your undertakings.
'I am, dear Sir, yours, &c. 'Sam. Johnson.' 'Ashbourne, Sept. 4, 1784.'
To Mr. Thomas Davies:--
August 14. 'The tenderness with which you always treat me, makes me
culpable in my own eyes for having omitted to write in so long a
separation; I had, indeed, nothing to say that you could wish to hear.
All has been hitherto misery accumulated upon misery, disease
corroborating disease, till yesterday my asthma was perceptibly and
unexpectedly mitigated. I am much comforted with this short relief, and
am willing to flatter myself that it may continue and improve. I have at
present, such a degree of ease, as not only may admit the comforts, but
the duties of life. Make my compliments to Mrs. Davies. Poor dear Allen,
he was a good man.'
To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS:--
Ashbourne, July 21. 'The tenderness with which I am treated by my
friends, makes it reasonable to suppose that they are desirous to know
the state of my health, and a desire so benevolent ought to be
gratified. I came to Lichfield in two days without any painful fatigue,
and on Monday came hither, where I purpose to stay: and try what air and
regularity will effect. I cannot yet persuade myself that I have made
much progress in recovery. My sleep is little, my breath is very much
encumbered, and my legs are very weak. The water has encreased a little,
but has again run off. The most distressing symptom is want of sleep.'
August 19. 'Having had since our separation, little to say that could
please you or myself by saying, I have not been lavish of useless
letters; but I flatter myself that you will partake of the pleasure with
which I can now tell you that about a week ago, I felt suddenly a
sensible remission of my asthma, and consequently a greater lightness of
action and motion. Of this grateful alleviation I know not the cause,
nor dare depend upon its continuance, but while it lasts I endeavour to
enjoy it, and am desirous of communicating, while it lasts, my pleasure
to my friends. Hitherto, dear Sir, I had written before the post, which
stays in this town but a little while, brought me your letter. Mr.
Davies seems to have represented my little tendency to recovery in terms
too splendid. I am still restless, still weak, still watery, but the
asthma is less oppressive. Poor Ramsay[1129]! On which side soever I
turn, mortality presents its formidable frown. I left three old friends
at Lichfield when I was last there, and now found them all dead. I no
sooner lose sight of dear Allen, than I am told that I shall see him no
more. That we must all die, we always knew; I wish I had sooner
remembered it. Do not think me intrusive or importunate, if I now call,
dear Sir, on you to remember it.'
Sept. 2. 'I am glad that a little favour from the court has intercepted
your furious purposes[1130]. I could not in any case have approved such
publick violence of resentment, and should have considered any who
encouraged it, as rather seeking sport for themselves, than honour for
you. Resentment gratifies him who intended an injury, and pains him
unjustly who did not intend it. But all this is now superfluous. I still
continue by GOD'S mercy to mend. My breath is easier, my nights are
quieter, and my legs are less in bulk, and stronger in use. I have,
however, yet a great deal to overcome, before I can yet attain even an
old man's health. Write, do write to me now and then; we are now old
acquaintance, and perhaps few people have lived so much and so long
together, with less cause of complaint on either side. The retrospection
of this is very pleasant, and I hope we shall never think on each other
with less kindness.'
Sept. 9. 'I could not answer your letter[1131] before this day, because
I went on the sixth to Chatsworth, and did not come back till the post
was gone. Many words, I hope, are not necessary between you and me, to
convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart, by the Chancellor's
liberality and your kind offices. I did not indeed expect that what was
asked by the Chancellor would have been refused[1132], but since it has,
we will not tell that any thing has been asked. I have enclosed a letter
to the Chancellor which, when you have read it, you will be pleased to
seal with a head, or other general seal, and convey it to him; had I
sent it directly to him, I should have seemed to overlook the favour of
your intervention. My last letter told you of my advance in health,
which, I think, in the whole still continues. Of the hydropick tumour
there is now very little appearance; the asthma is much less
troublesome, and seems to remit something day after day. I do not
despair of supporting an English winter. At Chatsworth, I met young Mr.
Burke, who led me very commodiously into conversation with the Duke and
Duchess. We had a very good morning. The dinner was publick[1133].'
Sept. 18. 'I flattered myself that this week would have given me a
letter from you, but none has come. Write to me now and then, but direct
your next to Lichfield. I think, and I hope, am sure, that I still grow
better; I have sometimes good nights; but am still in my legs weak, but
so much mended, that I go to Lichfield in hope of being able to pay my
visits on foot, for there are no coaches. I have three letters this day,
all about the balloon, I could have been content with one. Do not write
about the balloon, whatever else you may think proper to say[1134].'
October 2. 'I am always proud of your approbation, and therefore was
much pleased that you liked my letter. When you copied it[1135], you
invaded the Chancellor's right rather than mine. The refusal I did not
expect, but I had never thought much about it, for I doubted whether the
Chancellor had so much tenderness for me as to ask. He, being keeper of
the King's conscience, ought not to be supposed capable of an improper
petition. All is not gold that glitters, as we have often been told; and
the adage is verified in your place[1136] and my favour; but if what
happens does not make us richer, we must bid it welcome, if it makes us
wiser. I do not at present grow better, nor much worse; my hopes,
however, are somewhat abated, and a very great loss is the loss of hope,
but I struggle on as I can.'
TO MR. JOHN NICHOLS:--
Lichfield, Oct. 20. 'When you were here, you were pleased, as I am told,
to think my absence an inconvenience. I should certainly have been very
glad to give so skilful a lover of antiquities any information about my
native place, of which, however, I know not much, and have reason to
believe that not much is known. Though I have not given you any
amusement, I have received amusement from you. At Ashbourne, where I had
very little company, I had the luck to borrow _Mr. Bowyer's Life_[1137];
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[1138] worth your notice; and perhaps we 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. Allen was, besides. He was taken
unexpectedly away, but I think he was a very good man. I have made
little progress in recovery. I am very weak, and very sleepless; but I
live on and hope[1139].'
This various mass of correspondence, which I have thus brought together,
is valuable, both as an addition to the store which the publick already
has of Johnson's writings, and as exhibiting a genuine and noble
specimen of vigour and vivacity of mind, which neither age nor sickness
could impair or diminish.
It may be observed, that his writing in every way, whether for the
publick, or privately to his friends, was by fits and starts; for we see
frequently, that many letters are written on the same day. When he had
once overcome his aversion to begin, he was, I suppose, desirous to go
on, in order to relieve his mind from the uneasy reflection of delaying
what he ought to do[1140].
While in the country, notwithstanding the accumulation of illness which
he endured, his mind did not lose its powers. He translated an Ode of
Horace[1141], which is printed in his _Works_, and composed several
prayers. I shall insert one of them, which is so wise and energetick, so
philosophical and so pious, that I doubt not of its affording
consolation to many a sincere Christian, when in a state of mind to
which I believe the best are sometimes liable[1142].
And here I am enabled fully to refute a very unjust reflection, by Sir
John Hawkins[1143], both against Dr. Johnson, and his faithful servant,
Mr. Francis Barber[1144]; as if both of them had been guilty of culpable
neglect towards a person of the name of Heely, whom Sir John chooses to
call a _relation_ of Dr. Johnson's. The fact is, that Mr. Heely was not
his relation; he had indeed been married to one of his cousins, but she
had died without having children, and he had married another woman; so
that even the slight connection which there once had been by _alliance_
was dissolved. Dr. Johnson, who had shewn very great liberality to this
man while his first wife was alive, as has appeared in a former part of
this work[1145], was humane and charitable enough to continue his bounty
to him occasionally; but surely there was no strong call of duty upon
him or upon his legatee, to do more. The following letter, obligingly
communicated to me by Mr. Andrew Strahan, will confirm what I
have stated:--
'TO MR. HEELY, No. 5, IN PYE-STREET, WESTMINSTER.
'SIR,
'As necessity obliges you to call so soon again upon me, you should at
least have told the smallest sum that will supply your present want; you
cannot suppose that I have much to spare. Two guineas is as much as you
ought to be behind with your creditor. If you wait on Mr. Strahan, in
New-street, Fetter-lane, or in his absence, on Mr. Andrew Strahan, shew
this, by which they are entreated to advance you two guineas, and to
keep this as a voucher.
'I am, Sir,
'Your humble servant,
'SAM. JOHNSON.'
'Ashbourne, Aug. 12, 1784.'
Indeed it is very necessary to keep in mind that Sir John Hawkins has
unaccountably viewed Johnson's character and conduct in almost every
particular, with an unhappy prejudice[1146].
We now behold Johnson for the last time, in his native city, for which
he ever retained a warm affection, and which, by a sudden apostrophe,
under the word _Lich_[1147], he introduces with reverence, into his
immortal Work, THE ENGLISH DICTIONARY:--_Salve, magna parens![1148]
While here, he felt a revival of all the tenderness of filial affection,
an instance of which appeared in his ordering the grave-stone and
inscription over Elizabeth Blaney[1149] to be substantially and
carefully renewed.
To Mr. Henry White[1150], a young clergyman, with whom he now formed an
intimacy, so as to talk to him with great freedom, he mentioned that he
could not in general accuse himself of having been an undutiful son.
'Once, indeed, (said he,) I was disobedient; I refused to attend my
father to Uttoxeter-market. Pride was the source of that refusal, and
the remembrance of it was painful. A few years ago, I desired to atone
for this fault; I went to Uttoxeter in very bad weather, and stood for a
considerable time bareheaded in the rain, on the spot where my father's
stall used to stand. In contrition I stood, and I hope the penance was
expiatory[1151].'
'I told him (says Miss Seward) in one of my latest visits to him, of a
wonderful learned pig, which I had seen at Nottingham; and which did all
that we have observed exhibited by dogs and horses. The subject amused
him. 'Then, (said he,) the pigs are a race unjustly calumniated. _Pig_
has, it seems, not been wanting to _man_, but _man_ to _pig_. We do not
allow _time_ for his education, we kill him at a year old.' Mr. Henry
White, who was present, observed that if this instance had happened in
or before Pope's time, he would not have been justified in instancing
the swine as the lowest degree of groveling instinct[1152]. Dr. Johnson
seemed pleased with the observation, while the person who made it
proceeded to remark, that great torture must have been employed, ere the
indocility of the animal could have been subdued. 'Certainly, (said the
Doctor;) but, (turning to me,) how old is your pig?' I told him, three
years old. 'Then, (said he,) the pig has no cause to complain; he would
have been killed the first year if he had not been _educated_, and
protracted existence is a good recompence for very considerable degrees
of torture[1153].'
As Johnson had now very faint hopes of recovery, and as Mrs. Thrale was
no longer devoted to him, it might have been supposed that he would
naturally have chosen to remain in the comfortable house of his beloved
wife's daughter, and end his life where he began it. But there was in
him an animated and lofty spirit[1154], and however complicated diseases
might depress ordinary mortals, all who saw him, beheld and acknowledged
the _invictum animum Catonis_[1155]. Such was his intellectual ardour
even at this time, that he said to one friend, 'Sir, I look upon every
day to be lost, in which I do not make a new acquaintance[1156];' and to
another, when talking of his illness, 'I will be conquered; I will not
capitulate[1157].' And such was his love of London, so high a relish
had he of its magnificent extent, and variety of intellectual
entertainment, that he languished when absent from it, his mind having
become quite luxurious from the long habit of enjoying the metropolis;
and, therefore, although at Lichfield, surrounded with friends, who
loved and revered him, and for whom he had a very sincere affection, he
still found that such conversation as London affords, could be found no
where else. These feelings, joined, probably, to some flattering hopes
of aid from the eminent physicians and surgeons in London, who kindly
and generously attended him without accepting fees, made him resolve to
return to the capital. From Lichfield he came to Birmingham, where he
passed a few days with his worthy old schoolfellow, Mr. Hector, who thus
writes to me:--
'He was very solicitous with me to recollect some of our most early
transactions, and transmit them to him, for I perceive nothing gave him
greater pleasure than calling to mind those days of our innocence. I
complied with his request, and he only received them a few days before
his death. I have transcribed for your inspection, exactly the minutes I
wrote to him.'
This paper having been found in his repositories after his death, Sir
John Hawkins has inserted it entire[1158], and I have made occasional
use of it and other communications from Mr. Hector[1159], in the course
of this Work. I have both visited and corresponded with him since Dr.
Johnson's death, and by my inquiries concerning a great variety of
particulars have obtained additional information. I followed the same
mode with the Reverend Dr. Taylor, in whose presence I wrote down a good
deal of what he could tell; and he, at my request, signed his name, to
give it authenticity. It is very rare to find any person who is able to
give a distinct account of the life even of one whom he has known
intimately, without questions being put to them. My friend Dr.
Kippis[1160] has told me, that on this account it is a practice with him
to draw out a biographical catechism.
Johnson then proceeded to Oxford, where he was again kindly received by
Dr. Adams[1161], who was pleased to give me the following account in one
of his letters, (Feb. 17th, 1785):--
'His last visit was, I believe, to my house, which he left, after a stay
of four or five days. We had much serious talk together, for which I
ought to be the better as long as I live. You will remember some
discourse which we had in the summer upon the subject of prayer, and the
difficulty of this sort of composition[1162]. He reminded me of this,
and of my having wished him to try his hand, and to give us a specimen
of the style and manner that he approved. He added, that he was now in a
right frame of mind, and as he could not possibly employ his time
better, he would in earnest set about it. But I find upon enquiry, that
no papers of this sort were left behind him, except a few short
ejaculatory forms suitable to his present situation.'
Dr. Adams had not then received accurate information on this subject;
for it has since appeared that various prayers had been composed by him
at different periods, which, intermingled with pious resolutions, and
some short notes of his life, were entitled by him _Prayers and
Meditations_, and have, in pursuance of his earnest requisition, in
the hopes of doing good, been published, with a judicious well-written
Preface, by the Reverend Mr. Strahan, to whom he delivered them[1163].
This admirable collection, to which I have frequently referred in the
course of this Work, evinces, beyond all his compositions for the
publick, and all the eulogies of his friends and admirers, the sincere
virtue and piety of Johnson. It proves with unquestionable authenticity,
that amidst all his constitutional infirmities, his earnestness to
conform his practice to the precepts of Christianity was unceasing, and
that he habitually endeavoured to refer every transaction of his life to
the will of the Supreme Being.
He arrived in London on the 16th of November, and next day sent to Dr.
Burney the following note, which I insert as the last token of his
remembrance of that ingenious and amiable man, and as another of the
many proofs of the tenderness and benignity of his heart:--
