for the production of eloquence. I put my self into violent motion, and I think repeated it; but all was vain. I then went to bed, and strange as it may seem, I think slept. When I saw light, it was time to contrive what I should do. Though God stopped my speech, he left me my hand; I enjoyed a mercy which was not granted to my dear friend Lawrence, who now perhaps overlooks me as I am writing, and rejoices that I have what he wanted. My first note was necessarily to my servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why he should read what I put into his

hands.

"I then wrote a card to Mr. Allen, that I might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion should require. In penning this note, I had some difficulty; my hand, I knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. I then wrote to Dr. Taylor to come to me, and bring Dr. Heberden: and I sent to Dr. Brocklesby, who is my neighbour. My physicians are very friendly, and give me great hopes; but you may imagine my situation. I have so far recovered my vocal powers, as to repeat the Lord's Prayer with no very imperfect articulation. My memory, I hope, yet remains as it was; but such an attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty."

"TO MR. THOMAS DAVIES. "DEAR SIR,

"I HAVE had, indeed, a very heavy blow; but God, who yet spares my life, I humbly hope will spare my understanding, and restore my speech. As I am not at all helpless, I want no particular assistance, but am strongly affected by Mrs. Davies's tenderness; and when I think she can do me good, shall be very glad to call upon her. I had ordered friends to be shut out; but one or two have found the way in; and if you come you shall be admitted: for I know not whom I can see, that will bring more amusement on his tongue, or more kindness in his heart. I am, &c.

"June 18, 1783."

"SAM. JOHNSON.

It gives me great pleasure to preserve such a memorial of Johnson's regard for Mr. Davies, to whom I was indebted for my introduction to him." He indeed loved Davies cordially, of which I shall give the following little evidence. One day when he had treated him with two much asperity, Tom, who was not without pride and spirit, went off in a passion; but he had hardly reached home, when Frank, who had been ent after him, delivered this note :

• Poor Derrick, however, though he did not himself troduce me to Dr. Johnson as he promised, had the erit of introducing me to Davies, the immediate inroductor,

"Come, come, dear Davies, I am always sorry when we quarrel; send me word that we are friends."

"TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. "DEAR SIR,

"YOUR anxiety about my health is very friendly, and very agreeable with your general kindness. I have, indeed, had a very frightful blow. On the 17th of last month, about three in the morning, as near as I can guess, I perceived myself almost totally deprived of speech. I had no pain. My organs were so obstructed that I could say no, but could scarcely say yes. I wrote the necessary directions, for it pleased God to spare my head, and sent for Dr. Heberden and Dr. Brocklesby. Between the time in which I discovered my own disorder, and that in which I sent for the doctors, I had, I believe, in spite of my surprise and solicitude, a little sleep, and Nature began to renew its operations. They came and gave the directions which the disease required, and from that time I have been continually improving in articulation. I can now speak, but the nerves are weak, and I cannot continue discourse long; but strength, I hope, will return. The physicians consider me as cured. I was last Sunday at church. On Tuesday I took an airing to Hampstead, and dined with THE CLUB, where Lord Palmerston was proposed, and, against my opinion, was rejected. I designed to go next week with Mr. Langton to Rochester, where I purpose to stay about ten days, and then try some other air. I have many kind invitations. Your brother has very freMost of my quently inquired after me. friends have, indeed, been very attentive. Thank dear Lord Hailes for his present.

"I hope you found at your return every thing gay and prosperous, and your lady in particular quite recovered and confirmed. Pay her my respects. I am, dear Sir,

"Your most hunible servant,
"SAM. JOHNSON.

"London, July 3, 1783."

TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD. "DEAR MADAM,

"THE account which you give of your health is but melancholy. May it please GOD to restore you. My disease affected my speech, and still continues, in some degree, to obstruct my utterance; my voice is distinct enough for a while; but the organs being still weak are quickly weary: but in other respects I am, I think, rather better than I have lately been and can let you know my state without the help of any other

hand.

"In the opinion of my friends and in my

+ His Lordship was soon after chosen, and is now a member of THE CLUB.

"I live now but in a melancholy way. My old friend Mr. Levett is dead, who lived with me in the house, and was useful and companionable; Mrs. Desmoulins is gone away; and Mrs. Williams is so much decayed, that she can add little to another's gratifications. The world passes away, and we are passing with it; but there is, doubt less, another world, which will endure for ever: let us all fit ourselves for it. I am, &c. "SAM. JOHNSON.

"London, July 5, 1783"

Such was the general vigour of his constitution, that he recovered from this alarming and severe attack with wonderful quickness; so that in July he was able to make a visit to Mr. Langton at Rochester, where he passed about a fortnight, and made little excursions as easily as at any time of his life. In August he went as far as the neighbourhood of Salisbury, to Heale, the seat of William Bowles, Esq. a gentleman whom I have heard him praise for exemplary religious order in his family. In his diary I find a short but honourable mention of this visit: August 28, I came to Heale without fatigue. 30. I am entertained quite to my mind."

[In his letter to Mrs. Thrale, written on the 13th of August, we find the following melancholy paragraph:

I am now broken with disease, without the alleviation of familiar friendship or domestic society: I have no middle state between clamour and silence, between general conversation and self-tormenting solitude. Le vett is dead, and poor Williams is making haste to die: I know not if she will ever more come out of her chamber."

In a subsequent letter (August 26,) he adds, "Mrs. Williams fancies now and then that she grows better, but her vital powers appear to be slowly burning out. Nobody thinks, however, that she will very soon be quite wasted, and as she suffers me to be of very little use to her, I have determined to pass some time with Mr. Bowles near Salisbury, and have taken a place for Thursday.

"Some benefit may be perhaps received from change of air, some from change of company, and some from mere change of place. It is not easy to grow well in a chamber where one has long been sick, and where every thing seen, and every person speaking, revives and impresses images of pain. Though it be true, that no man can run away from himself, yet he may escape from many causes of useless uneasiness. That the mind is its own place, is the boast of a fallen angel that had learned to lie. External locality has great effects, at least

"TO DR. BROCKLESBY. "DEAR SIR, Heale, near Salisbury, Aug. 29, 1783 "WITHOUT appearing to want a just sense of your kind attention, I cannot omit to give an account of the day which seemed five, and went out at six; and having reachto appear in some sort perilous. I rose at miles in my friend's chariot. I was no more ed Salisbury about nine, went forward a few wearied with the journey, though it was a high-hung, rough coach, than I should have what air will do. The country is all a plain; been forty years ago. We shall now see and the house in which I am, so far as I can judge from my window, for I write before I have left my chamber, is sufficiently plea

sant.

upon all embodied beings. I hope this little journey si afford me at least some suspense of melancholy." M [In his letter to Miss Susanna Thrale, S 1783, he thus writes: "Pray shew Mamma this pa of a letter from Dr. Brocklesby. Mrs. Willarik, ba mere inanition, has at length paid the great debi to m ture about three o'clock this morning. (Set 6 died without a struggle, retaining her faculties w very last, and, as she expressed it, having set her bra in order, was prepared to leave it, at the last summ of nature.'"

ན་

In his letter to Mrs. Thrale, Sept. 22, he ad's. ** Patt Williams has, I hope, seen the end of her fa** She acted with prudence, and she bore with for She has left me.

"Thou thy weary task has done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages." Had she had good humour and prompt eleuten. M universal curiosity and comprehensive knowkige wauli have made her the delight of all that knew be has left her little to your charity-school." M.) Prayers and Meditations, p. 226.

6

on discovering that all that can be told of him is already in print; and that it is impracticable to procure any authentic information in addition to what the world is already possessed of."

"He had likewise projected, but at what part of his life is not known, a work to shew how small a quantity of REAL FICTION there is in the world; and that the same images, with very little variation, have served all the authors who have ever written."

"His thoughts in the latter part of his life were frequently employed on his deceased friends. He often muttered, these, or such like sentences: Poor man! and then he died.'"

"Speaking of a certain literary friend, He is a very pompous puzzling fellow, (said he ;) he lent me a letter once that somebody had written to him, no matter what it was about; but he wanted to have the let ter back, and expressed a mighty value for it; he hoped it was to be met with again, he would not lose it for a thousand pounds. I laid my hand upon it soon afterwards, and gave it him. I believe I said, I was very glad to have met with it. O, then he did not know that it signified any thing. So you see, when the letter was lost it was worth a thousand pounds, and when it was found it was not worth a farthing.'

The style and character of his conversation is pretty generally known; it was certainly conducted in conformity with a precept of Lord Bacon, but it is not clear, I apprehend, that this conformity was either perceived or intended by Johnson. The precept alluded to is as follows: In all kinds of speech, either pleasant, grave, severe, or ordinary, it is convenient to speak leisurely, and rather drawlingly than hastily: because asty speech confounds the meniory, and oftentimes, besides the unseemliness, drives - man either to stammering, a nonplus, or (arping on that which should follow ; wheres a slow speech confirmeth the memory, ddeth a conceit of wisdom to the hearers, esides a seemliness of speech and counteance.'+ Dr. Johnson's method of converition was certainly calculated to excite atention, and to amuse and instruct (as it

· [Mr. Malone observes, "This, however, was enely a mistake, as appears from the Memoirs published Mr. Noble. Had Johnson been furnished with the terials which the industry of that gentleman has prored, and with others which, it is believed, are yet preved in manuscript, he would, without doubt, have -duced a most valuable and curious history of CromI's life."

I may add, that, had Johnson given us a Life of m well, we should not have been disgusted in numberinstances with- My Lord Protector" and "My ty PROTECTRESS" and certainly the brutal ruffian presided in the bloody assembly that murdered their reign, would have been characterized by very differepithets than those which are applied to him in this k. whore we find him described as "the BOLD and RMINED Bradshaw." M.]

[Hints for Civil Conversation.-Bacon's Works, = 1 - 571. M.

happened,) without wearying or confusing his company. He was always most perfectly clear and perspicuous; and his language was so accurate, and his sentences so neatly constructed, that his conversation might have been all printed without any correction. At the same time, it was easy and natural; the accuracy of it had no appearance of labour, constraint, or stiffness; he seemed more correct than others, by the force of habit, and the customary exercises of his powerful mind."

"He spoke often in praise of French literature. The French are excellent in this, (he would say,) they have a book on every subject.' From what he had seen of them he denied them the praise of superior politeness, and mentioned, with very visible disgust, the custom they have of spitting on the floors of their apartments. This (said the Doctor) is as gross a thing as can well be done; and one wonders how any man, or set of men, can persist in so offensive a practice for a whole day together; one should expect that the first effort towards civilization would remove it even among savages.'"

"Baxter's 'Reasons of the Christian Religion,' he thought contained the best collection of the evidences of the divinity of the Christian systein."

"Chemistry was always an interesting pursuit with Dr. Johnson. Whilst he was in Wiltshire, he attended some experiments that were made by a physician at Salisbury, on the new kinds of air. In the course of the experiments frequent mention being made of Dr. Priestley, Dr. Johnson knit his brows, and in a stern manner inquired, Why do we hearso much of Dr. Priestley ?'+

I do not wonder at Johnson's displeasure when the name of Dr. Priestley was mentioned; for I know no writer who has been suffered to publish more pernicious doctrines. I shall instance only three. First, Materialism; by which mind is denied to human nature; which, if believed, must deprive us of every elevated principle. Secondly, Necessity; or the doctrine that every action, whether good or bad, is included in an unchangeable and unavoidable system; a notion utterly subversive of moral government. Thirdly, that we have no reason to think that the future world (which, as he is pleased to inform us, will be adapted to our merely improved nature.) will be materially different from this; which, if believed, would sink wretched mortals into despair, as they could no longer hope for the "rest that remaineth for the people of GoD," or for that happiness which is revealed to us as something beyond our present conceptions; but would feel themselves doomed to a continuation of the uneasy state under which they now groan. I say nothing of the petulant intemperance with which he dares to insult the venerable establishments of his country.

As a specimen of his writings, I shall quote the following passage, which appears to me equally absurd and impious, and which might have been retorted upon him by the men who were prosecuted for burning his house. "I cannot (says he,) as a necessarian [meaning necessitarian,] hate any man; because I consider him as being, in all respects, just what GOD has made him to be; and also as doing with respect to me, nothing but what he was expressly designed and appointed to do: GoD being the only cause, and men nothing more than the instruments in his hands to execute all his pleasure."Illustrations of Philosophical Necessity, p. 111.

The Reverend Dr. Parr, in a late tract, appears to suppose that Dr. Johnson not only endured, but almost solicited, an interview with Dr. Priestley. In justice to

He was properly answered, Sir, because we are indebted to him for these important discoveries.' On this Dr. Johnson appeared well content; and replied, "Well, well, I believe we are; and let every man have the honour he has merited.' 999

"A friend was one day, about two years before his death, struck with some instance of Dr. Johnson's great candour. Well, Sir, (said he,) I will always say that you are a very candid man.'- Will you? (replied the Doctor;) I doubt then you will be very singular. But, indeed, Sir, (continued he,) I look upon myself to be a man very much misunderstood. I am not an uncandid, nor am I a severe man. I sometimes say more than I mean, in jest ; and people are apt to believe me serious: however, I am more candid than I was when I was younger. As I know more of mankind, I expect less of them, and am ready now to call a man a good man, upon easier terms than I was formerly."

On his return from Heale he wrote to Dr. Burney." I came home on the 18th of September, at noon, to a very disconsolate house. You and I have lost our friends; but you have more friends at home. My domestic companion is taken from me. She is much missed, for her acquisitions were many, and her curiosity universal; so that she partook of every conversation. I am not well enough to go much out; and to sit and eat, or fast alone, is very wearisome. I always mean to send my compliments to all the ladies."

His fortitude and patience met with severe trials during this year. The stroke of the palsy has been related circumstantially; but he was also afflicted with the gout, and was besides troubled with a complaint which not only was attended with immediate inconvenience, but threatened him with a chirurgical operation, from which most men would shrink. The complaint was a sarcocele, which Johnson bore with uncommon firmness, and was not at all frightened while he looked forward to amputation. He was attended by Mr. Pott and Mr. Cruikshank. I have before me a letter of the 30th of July this year, to Mr. Cruikshank, in which he says, "I am going to put myself into your hands:" and another accompanying a set of his "Lives of the Poets," in which says, "I beg your acceptance of these

he

Dr. Johnson, I declare my firm belief that he never did. My illustrious friend was particularly resolute in not giving countenance to men whose writings he considered 25 pernicious to society. I was present at Oxford when Dr. Price, even before he had rendered himself so gene

"My conviction of your skill, and my belief of your friendship, determine me to entreat your opinion and advice."-" In this state I with great earnestness desire you to tell me what is to be done. Excision is doubtless necessary to the cure, and I know not any means of palliation. The operation is doubtless painful; but is it dangerous? The pain I hope to endure with decency; but I am loth to put life into much hazard -"By representing the gout as an antago nist to the palsy, you have said enough to make it welcome. This is not strictly the first fit, but I hope it is as good as the first; for it is the second that ever confined me: and the first was ten years ago, much les fierce and fiery than this."-" Write, des Sir, what you can to inform or encourage The operation is not delayed by any fears or objections of mine."

me.

"TO BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. "DEAR SIR,

"You may very reasonably charge me with insensibility of your kindness, and that of Lady Rothes, since I have suffered s much time to pass without paying any a knowledgement. I now, at last, return= thanks; and why I did it not sooner I g to tell you. I went into Wiltshire as s as I well could, and was there much e ployed in palliating my own malady. I sease produces much selfishness. A m pain is looking after ease; and lets mostetter things go as chance shall dispose of tim In the mean time I have lost a compat to whom I have had recourse for dome amusement for thirty years, and whose re riety of knowledge never was exhausta. and now return to a habitation vacant z desolate. I carry about a very troubles and dangerous complaint, which acasts m cure but by the chirurgical knife. Let have your prayers. I am, &c.

"London, Sept. 29, 1783"

"SAM. JOHNEL

Happily the complaint abated withets

But we must surely admire the maT T lution which he discovered, while 24

over him.

Mrs. Anna Wiliams.