'That this is done, I thought it fit that you should know. What care
will be taken of us, who can tell? May GOD pardon and bless us, for
JESUS CHRIST'S sake.
'I am, &c.
'SAM. JOHNSON[1199],'
'Dec. 2, 1784.'
My readers are now, at last, to behold SAMUEL JOHNSON preparing himself
for that doom, from which the most exalted powers afford no exemption to
man[1200]. Death had always been to him an object of terrour; so that,
though by no means happy, he still clung to life with an eagerness at
which many have wondered. At any time when he was ill, he was very much
pleased to be told that he looked better. An ingenious member of the
_Eumelian Club_[1201], informs me, that upon one occasion when he said
to him that he saw health returning to his cheek, Johnson seized him by
the hand and exclaimed, 'Sir, you are one of the kindest friends I
ever had.'
His own state of his views of futurity will appear truly rational; and
may, perhaps, impress the unthinking with seriousness.
'You know, (says he,)[1202] I never thought confidence with respect to
futurity, any part of the character of a brave, a wise, or a good man.
Bravery has no place where it can avail nothing; wisdom impresses
strongly the consciousness of those faults, of which it is, perhaps,
itself an aggravation; and goodness, always wishing to be better, and
imputing every deficience to criminal negligence, and every fault to
voluntary corruption, never dares to suppose the condition of
forgiveness fulfilled, nor what is wanting in the crime supplied by
penitence.
'This is the state of the best; but what must be the condition of him
whose heart will not suffer him to rank himself among the best, or among
the good? Such must be his dread of the approaching trial, as will leave
him little attention to the opinion of those whom he is leaving for
ever; and the serenity that is not felt, it can be no virtue to feign.'
His great fear of death, and the strange dark manner in which Sir John
Hawkins[1203] imparts the uneasiness which he expressed on account of
offences with which he charged himself, may give occasion to injurious
suspicions, as if there had been something of more than ordinary
criminality weighing upon his conscience. On that account, therefore, as
well as from the regard to truth which he inculcated[1204], I am to
mention, (with all possible respect and delicacy, however,) that his
conduct, after he came to London, and had associated with Savage and
others, was not so strictly virtuous, in one respect, as when he was a
younger man. It was well known, that his amorous inclinations were
uncommonly strong and impetuous. He owned to many of his friends, that
he used to take women of the town to taverns, and hear them relate their
history[1205]. In short, it must not be concealed, that, like many other
good and pious men, among whom we may place the Apostle Paul upon his
own authority, Johnson was not free from propensities which were ever
'warring against the law of his mind[1206],'--and that in his combats
with them, he was sometimes overcome[1207].
Here let the profane and licentious pause; let them not thoughtlessly
say that Johnson was an _hypocrite_, or that his _principles_ were not
firm, because his _practice_ was not uniformly conformable to what he
professed.
Let the question be considered independent of moral and religious
association; and no man will deny that thousands, in many instances, act
against conviction. Is a prodigal, for example, an _hypocrite_, when he
owns he is satisfied that his extravagance will bring him to ruin and
misery? We are _sure_ he _believes_ it; but immediate inclination,
strengthened by indulgence, prevails over that belief in influencing his
conduct. Why then shall credit be refused to the _sincerity_ of those
who acknowledge their persuasion of moral and religious duty, yet
sometimes fail of living as it requires? I heard Dr. Johnson once
observe, 'There is something noble in publishing truth, though it
condemns one's self[1208].' And one who said in his presence, 'he had
no notion of people being in earnest in their good professions, whose
practice was not suitable to them,' was thus reprimanded by him:--'Sir,
are you so grossly ignorant of human nature as not to know that a man
may be very sincere in good principles, without having good
practice[1209]?'
But let no man encourage or soothe himself in 'presumptuous sin[1210],'
from knowing that Johnson was sometimes hurried into indulgences which
he thought criminal. I have exhibited this circumstance as a shade in so
great a character, both from my sacred love of truth, and to shew that
he was not so weakly scrupulous as he has been represented by those who
imagine that the sins, of which a deep sense was upon his mind, were
merely such little venial trifles as pouring milk into his tea on
Good-Friday. His understanding will be defended by my statement, if his
consistency of conduct be in some degree impaired. But what wise man
would, for momentary gratifications, deliberately subject himself to
suffer such uneasiness as we find was experienced by Johnson in
reviewing his conduct as compared with his notion of the ethicks of the
gospel? Let the following passages be kept in remembrance:--
'O, GOD, giver and preserver of all life, by whose power I was created,
and by whose providence I am sustained, look down upon me with
tenderness and mercy; grant that I may not have been created to be
finally destroyed; that I may not be preserved to add wickedness to
wickedness[1211].' 'O, LORD, let me not sink into total depravity; look
down upon me, and rescue me at last from the captivity of sin[1212].'
'Almighty and most merciful Father, who hast continued my life from year
to year, grant that by longer life I may become less desirous of sinful
pleasures, and more careful of eternal happiness[1213].' 'Let not my
years be multiplied to increase my guilt; but as my age advances, let me
become more pure in my thoughts, more regular in my desires, and more
obedient to thy laws[1214].' 'Forgive, O merciful LORD, whatever I have
done contrary to thy laws. Give me such a sense of my wickedness as may
produce true contrition and effectual repentance; so that when I shall
be called into another state, I may be received among the sinners to
whom whom sorrow and reformation have obtained pardon, for JESUS
CHRIST'S sake. Amen[1215].'
Such was the distress of mind, such the penitence of Johnson, in his
hours of privacy, and in his devout approaches to his Maker. His
_sincerity_, therefore, must appear to every candid mind unquestionable.
It is of essential consequence to keep in view, that there was in this
excellent man's conduct no false principle of _commutation_, no
_deliberate_ indulgence in sin, in consideration of a counter-balance of
duty. His offending, and his repenting, were distinct and
separate[1216]: and when we consider his almost unexampled attention to
truth, his inflexible integrity, his constant piety, who will dare to
'cast a stone at him[1217]?' Besides, let it never be forgotten, that he
cannot be charged with any offence indicating badness of _heart_, any
thing dishonest, base, or malignant; but that, on the contrary, he was
charitable in an extraordinary degree: so that even in one of his own
rigid judgements of himself, (Easter-eve, 1781,) while he says, 'I have
corrected no external habits;' he is obliged to own, 'I hope that since
my last communion I have advanced, by pious reflections, in my
submission to GOD, and my benevolence to man[1218].'
I am conscious that this is the most difficult and dangerous part of my
biographical work, and I cannot but be very anxious concerning it. I
trust that I have got through it, preserving at once my regard to
truth,--to my friend,--and to the interests of virtue and religion. Nor
can I apprehend that more harm can ensue from the knowledge of the
irregularity of Johnson, guarded as I have stated it, than from knowing
that Addison and Parnell were intemperate in the use of wine; which he
himself, in his _Lives_ of those celebrated writers and pious men, has
not forborne to record[1219].
It is not my intention to give a very minute detail of the particulars
of Johnson's remaining days[1220], of whom it was now evident, that the
crisis was fast approaching, when he must '_die like men, and fall like
one of the Princes_[1221].' Yet it will be instructive, as well as
gratifying to the curiosity of my readers, to record a few
circumstances, on the authenticity of which they may perfectly rely, as
I have been at the utmost pains to obtain an accurate account of his
last illness, from the best authority[1222].
Dr. Heberden[1223], Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Warren[1224], and Dr. Butter,
physicians, generously attended him, without accepting any fees, as did
Mr. Cruikshank, surgeon; and all that could be done from professional
skill and ability, was tried, to prolong a life so truly valuable. He
himself, indeed, having, on account of his very bad constitution, been
perpetually applying himself to medical inquiries, united his own
efforts with those of the gentlemen who attended him; and imagining that
the dropsical collection of water which oppressed him might be drawn off
by making incisions in his body, he, with his usual resolute defiance of
pain, cut deep, when he thought that his surgeon had done it too
tenderly[1225].
About eight or ten days before his death, when Dr. Brocklesby paid him
his morning visit, he seemed very low and desponding, and said, 'I have
been as a dying man all night.' He then emphatically broke out in the
words of Shakspeare,--
'Can'st thou not minister to a mind diseas'd;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart?'
To which Dr. Brocklesby readily answered, from the same great poet:--
'----------------therein the patient
Must minister to himself[1226].'
Johnson expressed himself much satisfied with the application.
On another day after this, when talking on the subject of prayer, Dr.
Brocklesby repeated from Juvenal,--
'_Orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore Sano_[1227],'
and so on to the end of the tenth satire; but in running it quickly
over, he happened, in the line,
'_Qui spatium vitae; extremum inter munera ponat_,'
to pronounce _supremum_ for _extremum_; at which Johnson's critical ear
instantly took offence, and discoursing vehemently on the unmetrical
effect of such a lapse, he shewed himself as full as ever of the spirit
of the grammarian[1228].
Having no near relations[1229], it had been for some time Johnson's
intention to make a liberal provision for his faithful servant, Mr.
Francis Barber, whom he looked upon as particularly under his
protection, and whom he had all along treated truly as an humble friend.
Having asked Dr. Brocklesby what would be a proper annuity to a
favourite servant, and being answered that it must depend on the
circumstances of the master; and, that in the case of a nobleman, fifty
pounds a year was considered as an adequate reward for many years'
faithful service; 'Then, (said Johnson,) shall I be _nobilissimus_, for
I mean to leave Frank seventy pounds a year, and I desire you to tell
him so[1230].' It is strange, however, to think, that Johnson was not
free from that general weakness of being averse to execute a will, so
that he delayed it from time to time[1231]; and had it not been for Sir
John Hawkins's repeatedly urging it, I think it is probable that his
kind resolution would not have been fulfilled. After making one, which,
as Sir John Hawkins informs us, extended no further than the promised
annuity, Johnson's final disposition of his property was established by
a Will and Codicil, of which copies are subjoined[1232].
The consideration of numerous papers of which he was possessed, seems
to have struck Johnson's mind, with a sudden anxiety, and as they were
in great confusion, it is much to be lamented that he had not entrusted
some faithful and discreet person with the care and selection of them;
instead of which, he in a precipitate manner, burnt large masses of
them, with little regard, as I apprehend, to discrimination. Not that I
suppose we have thus been deprived of any compositions which he had ever
intended for the publick eye; but, from what escaped the flames, I judge
that many curious circumstances relating both to himself and other
literary characters have perished[1233].
Two very valuable articles, I am sure, we have lost, which were two
quarto volumes, containing a full, fair, and most particular account of
his own life, from his earliest recollection. I owned to him, that
having accidentally seen them, I had read a great deal in them; and
apologizing for the liberty I had taken, asked him if I could help
it[1234]. He placidly answered, 'Why, Sir, I do not think you could
have helped it.' I said that I had, for once in my life, felt half an
inclination to commit theft. It had come into my mind to carry off those
two volumes, and never see him more. Upon my inquiring how this would
have affected him, 'Sir, (said he,) I believe I should have gone
mad[1235].'
During his last illness, Johnson experienced the steady and kind
attachment of his numerous friends. Mr. Hoole has drawn up a narrative
of what passed in the visits which he paid him during that time, from
the both of November to the 13th of December, the day of his death,
inclusive, and has favoured me with a perusal of it, with permission to
make extracts, which I have done. Nobody was more attentive to him than
Mr. Langton, to whom he tenderly said, _Te teneam moriens deficiente
manu_[1237]. And I think it highly to the honour of Mr. Windham, that
his important occupations as an active statesman[1238] did not prevent
him from paying assiduous respect to the dying Sage whom he revered. Mr.
Langton informs me, that, 'one day he found Mr. Burke and four or five
more friends sitting with Johnson. Mr. Burke said to him, "I am afraid,
Sir, such a number of us may be oppressive to you." "No, Sir, (said
Johnson,) it is not so; and I must be in a wretched state, indeed, when
your company would not be a delight to me." Mr. Burke, in a tremulous
voice, expressive of being very tenderly affected, replied, "My dear
Sir, you have always been too good to me." Immediately afterwards he
went away. This was the last circumstance in the acquaintance of these
two eminent men[1239].'
The following particulars of his conversation within a few days of his
death, I give on the authority of Mr. John Nichols[1240]:--
'He said, that the Parliamentary Debates were the only part of his
writings which then gave him any compunction[1241]: but that at the time
he wrote them, he had no conception 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
never wrote any part of his works with equal velocity. Three columns of
the _Magazine_, in an hour, was no uncommon effort, which was faster
than most persons could have transcribed that quantity.
'Of his friend Cave, he always spoke with great affection. "Yet (said
he,) Cave, (who never looked out of his window, but with a view to the
_Gentleman's Magazine_,) was a penurious pay-master; he would contract
for lines by the hundred, and expect the long hundred; but he was a good
man, and always delighted to have his friends at his table."
'When talking of a regular edition of his own works, he said, "that he
had power, [from the booksellers,] to print such an edition, if his
health admitted it; but had no power to assign over any edition, unless
he could add notes, and so alter them as to make them new works; which
his state of health forbade him to think of. I may possibly live, (said
he,) or rather breath, three days, or perhaps three weeks; but find
myself daily and gradually weaker."
'He said at another time, three or four days only before his death,
speaking of the little fear he had of undergoing a chirurgical
operation, "I would give one of these legs for a year more of life, I
mean of comfortable life, not such as that which I now suffer;"--and
lamented much his inability to read during his hours of restlessness; "I
used formerly, (he added,) when sleepless in bed, _to read like a
Turk_[1242]."
'Whilst confined by his last illness, it was his regular practice to
have the church-service read to him, by some attentive and friendly
Divine. The Rev. Mr. Hoole performed this kind office in my presence for
the last time, when, by his own desire, no more than the Litany was
read; in which his responses were in the deep and sonorous voice which
Mr. Boswell has occasionally noticed, and with the most profound
devotion that can be imagined. His hearing not being quite perfect, he
more than once interrupted Mr. Hoole, with "Louder, my dear Sir, louder,
I entreat you, or you pray in vain[1243]!"--and, when the service was
ended, he, with great earnestness, turned round to an excellent lady who
was present, saying, "I thank you, Madam, very heartily, for your
kindness in joining me in this solemn exercise. Live well, I conjure
you; and you will not feel the compunction at the last, which I now
feel[1244]." So truly humble were the thoughts which this great and good
man entertained of his own approaches to religious perfection[1245].
'He was earnestly invited to publish a volume of _Devotional
Exercises_[1246]; but this, (though he listened to the proposal with
much complacency, and a large sum of money was offered for it,) he
declined, from motives of the sincerest modesty.
'He seriously entertained the thought of translating _Thuanus_[1247]. He
often talked to me on the subject; and once, in particular, when I was
rather wishing that he would favour the world, and gratify his
sovereign, by a Life of Spenser[1248], (which he said that he would
readily have done, had he been able to obtain any new materials for the
purpose,) he added, "I have been thinking again, Sir, of _Thuanus_: it
would not be the laborious task which you have supposed it. I should
have no trouble but that of dictation, which would be performed as
speedily as an amanuensis could write."
It is to the mutual credit of Johnson and Divines of different
communions, that although he was a steady Church-of-England man, there
was, nevertheless, much agreeable intercourse between him and them. Let
me particularly name the late Mr. La Trobe, and Mr. Hutton[1249], of the
Moravian profession. His intimacy with the English Benedictines, at
Paris, has been mentioned[1250]; and as an additional proof of the
charity in which he lived with good men of the Romish Church, I am happy
in this opportunity of recording his friendship with the Reverend Thomas
Hussey[1251], D.D. His Catholick Majesty's Chaplain of Embassy at the
Court of London, that very respectable man, eminent not only for his
powerful eloquence as a preacher, but for his various abilities and
acquisitions. Nay, though Johnson loved a Presbyterian the least of all,
this did not prevent his having a long and uninterrupted social
connection with the Reverend Dr. James Fordyce, who, since his death,
hath gratefully celebrated him in a warm strain of devotional
composition[1252].
Amidst the melancholy clouds which hung over the dying Johnson, his
characteristical manner shewed itself on different occasions.
When Dr. Warren, in the usual style, hoped that he was better; his
answer was, 'No, Sir; you cannot conceive with what acceleration I
advance towards death.'
A man whom he had never seen before was employed one night to sit up
with him[1253]. Being asked next morning how he liked his attendant, his
answer was, 'Not at all, Sir: the fellow's an ideot; he is as aukward as
a turn-spit when first put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse.'
Mr. Windham having placed a pillow conveniently to support him, he
thanked him for his kindness, and said, 'That will do,--all that a
pillow can do.'
He repeated[1254] with great spirit a poem, consisting of several
stanzas, in four lines, in alternate rhyme, which he said he had
composed some years before, on occasion of a rich, extravagant young
gentleman's coming of age; saying he had never repeated it but once
since he composed it, and had given but one copy of it. That copy was
given to Mrs. Thrale, now Piozzi, who has published it in a Book which
she entitles _British Synonymy_[1255], but which is truly a collection
of entertaining remarks and stories, no matter whether accurate or not.
Being a piece of exquisite satire, conveyed in a strain of pointed
vivacity and humour, and in a manner of which no other instance is to be
found in Johnson's writings, I shall here insert it[1256]:--
Long-expected one-and-twenty,
Ling'ring year, at length is flown;
Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty,
Great --- ----[1257], are now your own.
Loosen'd from the Minor's tether,
Free to mortgage or to sell,
Wild as wind, and light as feather,
Bid the sons of thrift farewell.
Call the Betseys, Kates, and Jennies,
All the names that banish care;
Lavish of your grandsire's guineas,
Shew the spirit of an heir.
All that prey on vice or folly
Joy to see their quarry fly;
There the gamester, light and jolly,
There the lender, grave and sly.
Wealth, my lad, was made to wander,
Let it wander as it will;
Call the jockey, call the pander,
Bid them come and take their fill.
When the bonny blade carouses,
Pockets full, and spirits high--
What are acres? what are houses?
Only dirt, or wet or dry.
Should the guardian friend or mother
Tell the woes of wilful waste;
