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Ætat. 75.

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His correspondence with me after his letter on the subject of my settling 1784.
in London, shall now so far as is proper, be produced in one series.
July 26, he wrote to me from Ashbourne; “On the 14th I came to

«
Lichfield, and found every body glad enough to see me. On the 20th, I
came hither, and found a house half built, of very uncomfortable appearance,
but my own room has not been altered. That a man worn with diseases,
in his seventy-second or third year, should condemn part of his remaining life
to pass among ruins and rubbish, and that no inconsiderable part, appears to
me very strange.--I know that your kindness makes you impatient to know
the state of my health, in which I cannot boast of much improvement. I
came through the journey without much inconvenience, but when I attempt
self-motion I find my legs weak, and my breath very short; this day I have
been much disordered. I have no company; the Doctor is busy in his
fields, and goes to bed at nine, and his whole system is so different from mine,
that we seem formed for different elements; I have, therefore, all my amuse-
ment to seek within myself.”

Having written to him in bad spirits, a letter filled with dejection and
fretfulness, and at the same time expressing anxious apprehensions concerning
him, on account of a dream which had disturbed me; his answer was chiefly
in terms of reproach, for a supposed charge of « affecting discontent, and


indulging the vanity of complaint.” It however proceeded, “ Write to me
often, and write like a man. I consider your fidelity and tenderness as a
great part of the comforts which are yet left me, and sincerely wish we could
be nearer to each other._* *******.-My dear friend, life is very
short and very uncertain ; let us spend it as well as we can.-My worthy neigh-
bour, Allen, is dead. Love me as well as you can. Pay my respects to dear
Mrs. Boswell.-Nothing ailed me at that time; let your superstition at last
have an end.”

Feeling very soon, that the manner in which he had written might hurt
me, he in two days after, July 28, wrote to me again, giving me an account
of his sufferings, after which follows: “ Before this letter you will have had
one which I hope you will not take amiss; for it contains only truth, and that
truth kindly intended.

Spartam quam natus es orna; make
the most and best of your lot, and compare yourself not with the few that are
above you, but with the multitudes which are below you.
Go steadily forward with lawful business or honest diversions.
Temple says of the Dutchmen) well when you are not ill, and pleased when
you are not angry.'

* This may seem but an ill return for
your tenderness; but I mean it well, for I love you with great ardour and

sincerity.

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tenderness of filial affection, an instance of which appeared in his ordering the grave-stone and inscription, over Elizabeth Blaney', to be substantially and carefully renewed.

To Mr. Henry White, 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 fon. indeed (faid he) I was disobedient; I refused to attend my father to Uttoxetermarket. 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 bare-headed in the rain, on the spot where my father's stall used to stand. In contrition I stood, and I hope the pennance was expiatory.”

“ 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. Doctor 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.”

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’, and however complicated diseases might depress

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any fine on the occasion, which lease was afterwards granted, and the Doctor died possessed of this property."

· See Vol. I. p. 9. 2 Mr. Burke suggested to me as applicable to Johnson, what Cicero, in his Cato Major, says of Appius, Intentum enim animum tanquam arcum habebat, nec languefiens succumbebat senectuti;" repeating at the fame time, the following noble words in the same passage: Ita enim feneclus bonefta eft fi fe ipfa defendit, fi jus fuum retinet, fi nemini emancipata eft, fi usque ad extremam vits fpiritum vindicet jus fuum."

ordinary

ordinary mortals, all who saw him, beheld and acknowledged the invietim 1784.
animum Catonis. Such was his intellectual ardour even at this time, that he cat. 75.
faid to one friend, “ Sir, I look upon every day to be lost in which I do not
make a new acquaintance.” And to another, when talking of his illness,
“ I will be conquered; I will not capitulate.” 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 of 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 [choolfellow, 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 perceived 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

This paper having
been found in his repositories after his death, Sir John Hawkins has inserted
it entire, and I have made occasional use of it, and other communications
from Mr. Hector, in the course of this work. I have both visited and cor-
responded with him since Dr. Johnson's death, and by asking 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, 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, who was pleased to give me the following account in one of his
letters (17th Feb. 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
fome discourse which we had in the summer upon the subject of prayer, and
VOL. II,
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1784.

Ætat. 75.

the difficulty of this sort of composition. 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 fome 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. 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 this ingenious and amiable man, and as another of the many proofs of the tenderness and benignity of his heart.

“ Mr. Johnson, who came home last night, sends his respects to dear Dr. Burney, and all the dear Burneys, little and great.”

To Mr. Hector, in Birmingham. « DEAR SIR,

I did not reach Oxford until Friday morning, and then I sent Francis to see the balloon Ay, but could not go myself. I staid at Oxford 'till Tuesday, and then came in the common vehicle easily to London. I am as I was, and having feen Dr. Brocklesby, am to ply the squills; but whatever be their efficacy, this world must soon pass away. Let us think seriously on our duty.--I send my kindest respects to dear Mrs. Careless; let me have the prayers of both. of both. We have all lived long, and must soon part. God

GOD have mercy on us, for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. I am, &c. “ London, Nov, 17, 1784.

SAM. JOHNSON."

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Ætat. 75

a

His correspondence with me after his letter on the subject of my settling 1784. in London, shall now so far as is proper, be produced in one series.

July 26, he wrote to me from Ashbourne; “On the 14th I came to Lichfield, and found every body glad enough to see me. On the 20th, I came hither, and found a house half built, of very uncomfortable appearance, but my own room has not been altered. That a man worn with diseases, in his seventy-second or third year, should condemn part of his remaining life to pass among ruins and rubbish, and that no inconsiderable part, appears to me very strange.--I know that your kindness makes you impatient to know the state of my health, in which I cannot boast of much improvement. I came through the journey without much inconvenience, but when I attempt self-motion I find my legs weak, and my breath very short; this day I have been much disordered. I have no company; the Doctor is busy in his fields, and goes to bed at nine, and his whole system is so different from mine, that we seem formed for different elements; I have, therefore, all my amusement to seek within myself.”

Having written to him in bad spirits, a letter filled with dejection and fretfulness, and at the same time expressing anxious apprehensions concerning him, on account of a dream which had disturbed me; his answer was chiefly in terms of reproach, for a supposed charge of “ affecting discontent, and indulging the vanity of complaint.” It however proceeded, “ Write to me often, and write like a man. I consider your fidelity and tenderness as a great part of the comforts which are yet left me, and sincerely wish we could be nearer to each other._* * *

My dear friend, life is very short and very uncertain ; let us spend it as well as we can.—My worthy neighbour, Allen, is dead. Love me as well as you can. Pay my respects to dear Mrs. Boswell.-Nothing ailed me at that time; let your superstition at last have an end.”

Feeling very soon, that the manner in which he had written might hurt
me, he in two days after, July 28, wrote to me again, giving me an account
of his sufferings, after which follows: “ Before this letter you will have had
one which I hope you will not take amiss; for it contains only truth, and that
truth kindly intended.

Spartam quam naétus es orna; make
the most and best of your lot, and compare yourself not with the few that are
above you, but with the multitudes which are below you.
Go steadily forward with lawful business or honest diversions.
Temple says of the Dutchmen) well when you are not ill, and pleased when
you are not angry.'

This
may

seem but an ill return for
your tenderness; but I mean it well, for I love you with great ardour and

sincerity.

4 B 2

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