Life of Johnson

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Yet it was not a little painful to me to find, that . . . he still
persevered in arraigning me as before, which was strange in him who had
so much experience of what I suffered. I, however, wrote to him two as
kind letters as I could; the last of which came too late to be read
by him, for his illness encreased more rapidly upon him than I had
apprehended; but I had the consolation of being informed that he spoke
of me on his death-bed, with affection, and I look forward with humble
hope of renewing our friendship in a better world.


Soon after Johnson's return to the metropolis, both the asthma and
dropsy became more violent and distressful.

During his sleepless nights he amused himself by translating into Latin
verse, from the Greek, many of the epigrams in the Anthologia. These
translations, with some other poems by him in Latin, he gave to his
friend Mr. Langton, who, having added a few notes, sold them to the
booksellers for a small sum, to be given to some of Johnson's relations,
which was accordingly done; and they are printed in the collection of
his works.

A very erroneous notion has circulated as to Johnson's deficiency in the
knowledge of the Greek language, partly owing to the modesty with which,
from knowing how much there was to be learnt, he used to mention his own
comparative acquisitions. When Mr. Cumberland talked to him of the Greek
fragments which are so well illustrated in The Observer, and of the
Greek dramatists in general, he candidly acknowledged his insufficiency
in that particular branch of Greek literature. Yet it may be said, that
though not a great, he was a good Greek scholar. Dr. Charles Burney, the
younger, who is universally acknowledged by the best judges to be one
of the few men of this age who are very eminent for their skill in that
noble language, has assured me, that Johnson could give a Greek word for
almost every English one; and that although not sufficiently conversant
in the niceties of the language, he upon some occasions discovered,
even in these, a considerable degree of critical acumen. Mr. Dalzel,
Professor of Greek at Edinburgh, whose skill in it is unquestionable,
mentioned to me, in very liberal terms, the impression which was
made upon him by Johnson, in a conversation which they had in London
concerning that language. As Johnson, therefore, was undoubtedly one of
the first Latin scholars in modern times, let us not deny to his fame
some additional splendour from Greek.

The ludicrous imitators of Johnson's style are innumerable. Their
general method is to accumulate hard words, without considering, that,
although he was fond of introducing them occasionally, there is not a
single sentence in all his writings where they are crowded together, as
in the first verse of the following imaginary Ode by him to Mrs. Thrale,
which appeared in the newspapers:--

'Cervisial coctor's viduate dame,
Opin'st thou this gigantick frame,
Procumbing at thy shrine:
Shall, catenated by thy charms,
A captive in thy ambient arms,
Perennially be thine?'

This, and a thousand other such attempts, are totally unlike the
original, which the writers imagined they were turning into ridicule.
There is not similarity enough for burlesque, or even for caricature.


'TO MR. GREEN, APOTHECARY, AT LICHFIELD.

'DEAR SIR,--I have enclosed the Epitaph for my Father, Mother, and
Brother, to be all engraved on the large size, and laid in the middle
aisle in St. Michael's church, which I request the clergyman and
churchwardens to permit.

'The first care must be to find the exact place of interment, that the
stone may protect the bodies. Then let the stone be deep, massy, and
hard; and do not let the difference of ten pounds, or more, defeat our
purpose.

'I have enclosed ten pounds, and Mrs. Porter will pay you ten more,
which I gave her for the same purpose. What more is wanted shall be
sent; and I beg that all possible haste may be made, for I wish to have
it done while I am yet alive. Let me know, dear Sir, that you receive
this. I am, Sir, your most humble servant,

'Dec. 2, 1784.'

'SAM. JOHNSON.'


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,
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.'

Dr. Heberden, Dr. Brocklesby, Dr. Warren, 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.*

* This bold experiment, Sir John Hawkins has related in such
a manner as to suggest a charge against Johnson of
intentionally hastening his end; a charge so very
inconsistent with his character in every respect, that it is
injurious even to refute it, as Sir John has thought it
necessary to do. It is evident, that what Johnson did in
hopes of relief, indicated an extraordinary eagerness to
retard his dissolution.--BOSWELL.

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.'

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,'


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.

Having no near relations, 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.' 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; 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.


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.

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.
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.'

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 10th 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. And I think it highly to the honour of Mr. Windham, that his
important occupations as an active statesman 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.'


The following particulars of his conversation within a few days of his
death, I give on the authority of Mr. John Nichols:--

'He said, that the Parliamentary Debates were the only part of his
writings which then gave him any compunction: 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."

'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."

'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!"--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." So truly
humble were the thoughts which this great and good man entertained of
his own approaches to religious perfection.'

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. 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 requested three things of Sir Joshua Reynolds:--To forgive him thirty
pounds which he had borrowed of him; to read the Bible; and never to use
his pencil on a Sunday. Sir Joshua readily acquiesced.

Johnson, with that native fortitude, which, amidst all his bodily
distress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, asked Dr. Brocklesby,
as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he could
recover. 'Give me (said he,) a direct answer.' The Doctor having first
asked him if he could hear the whole truth, which way soever it might
lead, and being answered that he could, declared that, in his opinion,
he could not recover without a miracle. 'Then, (said Johnson,) I will
take no more physick, not even my opiates; for I have prayed that I may
render up my soul to GOD unclouded.' In this resolution he persevered,
and, at the same time, used only the weakest kinds of sustenance. Being
pressed by Mr. Windham to take somewhat more generous nourishment,
lest too low a diet should have the very effect which he dreaded, by
debilitating his mind, he said, 'I will take any thing but inebriating
sustenance.'

The Reverend Mr. Strahan, who was the son of his friend, and had been
always one of his great favourites, had, during his last illness, the
satisfaction of contributing to soothe and comfort him. That
gentleman's house, at Islington, of which he is Vicar, afforded Johnson,
occasionally and easily, an agreeable change of place and fresh air; and
he attended also upon him in town in the discharge of the sacred offices
of his profession.

Mr. Strahan has given me the agreeable assurance, that, after being in
much agitation, Johnson became quite composed, and continued so till his
death.

Dr. Brocklesby, who will not be suspected of fanaticism, obliged me with
the following account:--

'For some time before his death, all his fears were calmed and absorbed
by the prevalence of his faith, and his trust in the merits and
propitiation of JESUS CHRIST.'

Johnson having thus in his mind the true Christian scheme, at once
rational and consolatory, uniting justice and mercy in the Divinity,
with the improvement of human nature, previous to his receiving the
Holy Sacrament in his apartment, composed and fervently uttered this
prayer:--

'Almighty and most merciful Father, I am now as to human eyes, it seems,
about to commemorate, for the last time, the death of thy Son JESUS
CHRIST, our Saviour and Redeemer. Grant, O LORD, that my whole hope and
confidence may be in his merits, and thy mercy; enforce and accept
my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration available to the
confirmation of my faith, the establishment of my hope, and the
enlargement of my charity; and make the death of thy Son JESUS CHRIST
effectual to my redemption. Have mercy upon me, and pardon the multitude
of my offences. Bless my friends; have mercy upon all men. Support me,
by thy Holy Spirit, in the days of weakness, and at the hour of death;
and receive me, at my death, to everlasting happiness, for the sake of
JESUS CHRIST. Amen.'

Having, as has been already mentioned, made his will on the 8th and 9th
of December, and settled all his worldly affairs, he languished till
Monday, the 13th of that month, when he expired, about seven o'clock
in the evening, with so little apparent pain that his attendants hardly
perceived when his dissolution took place.

Of his last moments, my brother, Thomas David, has furnished me with the
following particulars:--

'The Doctor, from the time that he was certain his death was near,
appeared to be perfectly resigned, was seldom or never fretful or out
of temper, and often said to his faithful servant, who gave me this
account, "Attend, Francis, to the salvation of your soul, which is the
object of greatest importance:" he also explained to him passages in
the Scripture, and seemed to have pleasure in talking upon religious
subjects.

'On Monday, the 13th of December, the day on which he died, a Miss
Morris, daughter to a particular friend of his, called, and said to
Francis, that she begged to be permitted to see the Doctor, that she
might earnestly request him to give her his blessing. Francis went into
his room, followed by the young lady, and delivered the message. The
Doctor turned himself in the bed, and said, "GOD bless you, my dear!"
These were the last words he spoke. His difficulty of breathing
increased till about seven o'clock in the evening, when Mr. Barber and
Mrs. Desmoulins, who were sitting in the room, observing that the noise
he made in breathing had ceased, went to the bed, and found he was
dead.'

About two days after his death, the following very agreeable account was
communicated to Mr. Malone, in a letter by the Honourable John Byng, to
whom I am much obliged for granting me permission to introduce it in my
work.


'DEAR SIR,--Since I saw you, I have had a long conversation with
Cawston, who sat up with Dr. Johnson, from nine o'clock, on Sunday
evening, till ten o'clock, on Monday morning. And, from what I can
gather from him, it should seem, that Dr. Johnson was perfectly
composed, steady in hope, and resigned to death. At the interval of each
hour, they assisted him to sit up in his bed, and move his legs, which
were in much pain; when he regularly addressed himself to fervent
prayer; and though, sometimes, his voice failed him, his senses never
did, during that time. The only sustenance he received, was cyder and
water. He said his mind was prepared, and the time to his dissolution
seemed long. At six in the morning, he inquired the hour, and, on being
informed, said that all went on regularly, and he felt he had but a few
hours to live.

'At ten o'clock in the morning, he parted from Cawston, saying,
"You should not detain Mr. Windham's servant:--I thank you; bear my
remembrance to your master." Cawston says, that no man could appear
more collected, more devout, or less terrified at the thoughts of the
approaching minute.

'This account, which is so much more agreeable than, and somewhat
different from, yours, has given us the satisfaction of thinking that
that great man died as he lived, full of resignation, strengthened in
faith, and joyful in hope.'

A few days before his death, he had asked Sir John Hawkins, as one
of his executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered,
'Doubtless, in Westminster-Abbey,' seemed to feel a satisfaction, very
natural to a Poet; and indeed in my opinion very natural to every man
of any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laid
with his fathers. Accordingly, upon Monday, December 20, his remains
were deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his grave
was placed a large blue flag-stone, with this inscription:--

'SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.
Obiit XIII die Decembris,
Anno Domini
M.DCC.LXXXIV.
Aetatis suae LXXV.'

His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends,
particularly such of the members of the LITERARY CLUB as were then in
town; and was also honoured with the presence of several of the Reverend
Chapter of Westminster. Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Windham,
Mr. Langton, Sir Charles Bunbury, and Mr. Colman, bore his pall. His
school-fellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the
burial service.

I trust, I shall not be accused of affectation, when I declare, that I
find myself unable to express all that I felt upon the loss of such a
'Guide, Philosopher, and Friend.' I shall, therefore, not say one word
of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend, which he uttered with
an abrupt felicity, superior to all studied compositions:--'He has made
a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up, but which nothing has a
tendency to fill up. Johnson is dead. Let us go to the next best:--there
is nobody; no man can be said to put you in mind of Johnson.'