Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother,--You can hang or drown at last.As he opened a note which his servant brought to him, he said, 'An oddthought strikes me: we shall receive no letters in the grave[1258].'He requested three things of Sir Joshua Reynolds:--To forgive him thirtypounds which he had borrowed of him; to read the Bible; and never touse his pencil on a Sunday[1259]. Sir Joshua readily acquiesced[1260].Indeed he shewed the greatest anxiety for the religious improvement ofhis friends, to whom he discoursed of its infinite consequence. Hebegged of Mr. Hoole to think of what he had said, and to commit it towriting: and, upon being afterwards assured that this was done, pressedhis hands, and in an earnest tone thanked him. Dr. Brocklesby havingattended him with the utmost assiduity and kindness as his physician andfriend, he was peculiarly desirous that this gentleman should notentertain any loose speculative notions, but be confirmed in the truthsof Christianity, and insisted on his writing down in his presence, asnearly as he could collect it, the import of what passed on the subject:and Dr. Brocklesby having complied with the request, he made him signthe paper, and urged him to keep it in his own custody as long as helived[1261].Johnson, with that native fortitude, which, amidst all his bodilydistress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, asked Dr. Brocklesby,as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he couldrecover. 'Give me (said he) a direct answer.' The Doctor having firstasked him if he could bear the whole truth, which way soever it mightlead, and being answered that he could, declared that, in his opinion,he could not recover without a miracle. 'Then, (said Johnson,) I willtake no more physick, not even my opiates; for I have prayed that I mayrender up my soul to GOD unclouded.' In this resolution he persevered,and, at the same time, used only the weakest kinds of sustenance. Beingpressed by Mr. Windham to take somewhat more generous nourishment, lesttoo low a diet should have the very effect which he dreaded, bydebilitating his mind, he said, 'I will take any thing but inebriatingsustenance[1262].'The Reverend Mr. Strahan, who was the son of his friend, and had beenalways one of his great favourites, had, during his last illness, thesatisfaction of contributing to soothe and comfort him. That gentleman'shouse, at Islington, of which he is Vicar, afforded Johnson,occasionally and easily, an agreeable change of place and fresh air; andhe attended also upon him in town in the discharge of the sacred officesof his profession.Mr. Strahan has given me the agreeable assurance, that, after being inmuch agitation, Johnson became quite composed, and continued so till hisdeath[1263].Dr. Brocklesby, who will not be suspected of fanaticism, obliged me withthe following accounts:--'For some time before his death, all his fears were calmed and absorbedby the prevalence of his faith, and his trust in the merits and_propitiation_ of JESUS CHRIST.'He talked often to me about the necessity of faith in the _sacrifice_of Jesus, as necessary beyond all good works whatever, for the salvationof mankind.'He pressed me to study Dr. Clarke and to read his Sermons. I asked himwhy he pressed Dr. Clarke, an Arian[1264]. "Because, (said he,) he isfullest on the _propitiatory sacrifice_."'Johnson having thus in his mind the true Christian scheme, at oncerational and consolatory, uniting justice and mercy in the DIVINITY,with the improvement of human nature, previous to his receiving the HolySacrament in his apartment, composed and fervently uttered thisprayer[1265]:--'Almighty and most merciful Father, I am now as to human eyes, itseems, about to commemorate, for the last time, the death of thy SonJESUS CHRIST, our Saviour and Redeemer. Grant, O LORD, that my wholehope and confidence may be in his merits, and thy mercy; enforce andaccept my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration available to theconfirmation of my faith, the establishment of my hope, and theenlargement of my charity; and make the death of thy Son JESUS CHRISTeffectual to my redemption. Have mercy upon me, and pardon the multitudeof 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 ofJESUS CHRIST. Amen.'Having, as has been already mentioned, made his will on the 8th and 9thof December, and settled all his worldly affairs, he languished tillMonday, the 13th of that month, when he expired, about seven o'clock inthe evening, with so little apparent pain that his attendants hardlyperceived when his dissolution took place.Of his last moments, my brother, Thomas David[1266], has furnished mewith the following particulars:--'The Doctor, from the time that he was certain his death was near,appeared to be perfectly resigned[1267], was seldom or never fretful orout of temper, and often said to his faithful servant, who gave me thisaccount, "Attend, Francis, to the salvation of your soul, which is theobject of greatest importance:" he also explained to him passages in thescripture, and seemed to have pleasure in talking upon religioussubjects.'On Monday, the 13th of December, the day on which he died, a MissMorris[1268], daughter to a particular friend of his, called, and saidto Francis, that she begged to be permitted to see the Doctor, that shemight earnestly request him to give her his blessing. Francis went intohis room, followed by the young lady, and delivered the message. TheDoctor turned himself in the bed, and said, "GOD bless you, my dear!"These were the last words he spoke. His difficulty of breathingincreased till about seven o'clock in the evening, when Mr. Barber andMrs. Desmoulins, who were sitting in the room, observing that the noisehe made in breathing had ceased, went to the bed, and found he wasdead[1269].'About two days after his death, the following very agreeable account wascommunicated to Mr. Malone, in a letter by the Honourable John Byng, towhom I am much obliged for granting me permission to introduce it inmy work.'DEAR SIR,'Since I saw you, I have had a long conversation with Cawston[1270], whosat up with Dr. Johnson, from nine o'clock, on Sunday evening, till teno'clock, on Monday morning. And, from what I can gather from him, itshould seem, that Dr. Johnson was perfectly composed, steady in hope,and resigned to death. At the interval of each hour, they assisted himto sit up in his bed, and move his legs, which were in much pain; whenhe regularly addressed himself to fervent prayer; and though, sometimes,his voice failed him, his senses never did, during that time. The onlysustenance he received, was cyder and water. He said his mind wasprepared, and the time to his dissolution seemed long. At six in themorning, he enquired the hour, and, on being informed, said that allwent 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, "Youshould not detain Mr. Windham's servant:--I thank you; bear myremembrance to your master." Cawston says, that no man could appear morecollected, more devout, or less terrified at the thoughts of theapproaching minute.'This account, which is so much more agreeable than, and somewhatdifferent from, yours, has given us the satisfaction of thinking thatthat great man died as he lived, full of resignation, strengthened infaith, and joyful in hope.'A few days before his death, he had asked Sir John Hawkins, as one ofhis executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered,'Doubtless, in Westminster-Abbey,' seemed to feel a satisfaction, verynatural to a Poet; and indeed in my opinion very natural to every man ofany imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laidwith his fathers. Accordingly, upon Monday, December 20, his remainswere deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his gravewas placed a large blue flag-stone, with this inscription:--'SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D._Obiit_ XIII _die Decembris_,_Anno Domini_M. DCC. LXXXIV.Aetatis suoe_ LXXV.'His funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends,particularly such of the members of the LITERARY CLUB as were then intown; and was also honoured with the presence of several of the ReverendChapter of Westminster. Mr. Burke, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Windham, Mr.Langton, Sir Charles Bunbury, and Mr. Colman, bore his pall[1271]. Hisschoolfellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading theburial service[1272].I trust, I shall not be accused of affectation, when I declare, that Ifind myself unable to express all that I felt upon the loss of such a'Guide[1273], Philosopher, and Friend[1274].' I shall, therefore, notsay one word of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend[1275],which he uttered with an abrupt felicity, superior to all studiedcompositions:--'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 goto the next best:--there is nobody; no man can be said to put you inmind of Johnson[1276].'As Johnson had abundant homage paid to him during his life[1277], so nowriter in this nation ever had such an accumulation of literary honoursafter his death. A sermon upon that event was preached in St. Mary'sChurch, Oxford, before the University, by the Reverend Mr. Agutter, ofMagdalen College[1278]. The _Lives_, the _Memoirs_, the _Essays_, bothin prose and verse, which have been published concerning him, would makemany volumes. The numerous attacks too upon him, I consider as part ofhis consequence, upon the principle which he himself so well knew andasserted[1279]. Many who trembled at his presence, were forward inassault, when they no longer apprehended danger. When one of his littlepragmatical foes was invidiously snarling at his fame, at Sir JoshuaReynolds's table, the Reverend Dr. Parr exclaimed, with his usual boldanimation, 'Ay, now that the old lion is dead, every ass thinks he maykick at him.'A monument for him, in Westminster Abbey, was resolved upon soon afterhis death, and was supported by a most respectable contribution[1280];but the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's having come to a resolution ofadmitting monuments there, upon a liberal and magnificent plan, thatCathedral was afterwards fixed on, as the place in which a cenotaphshould be erected to his memory[1281]: and in the cathedral of hisnative city of Lichfield, a smaller one is to be erected. To compose hisepitaph, could not but excite the warmest competition of genius[1282].If _laudari a laudato viro_ be praise which is highly estimable[1283],I should not forgive myself were I to omit the following sepulchralverses on the authour of THE ENGLISH DICTIONARY, written by the RightHonourable Henry Flood[1284]:--'No need of Latin or of Greek to graceOur JOHNSON'S memory, or inscribe his grave;His native language claims this mournful space,To pay the Immortality he gave.'The character of SAMUEL JOHNSON has, I trust, been so developed in thecourse of this work, that they who have honoured it with a perusal, maybe considered as well acquainted with him. As, however, it may beexpected that I should collect into one view the capital anddistinguishing features of this extraordinary man, I shall endeavour toacquit myself of that part of my biographical undertaking[1285], howeverdifficult it may be to do that which many of my readers will do betterfor themselves.His figure was large and well formed, and his countenance of the cast ofan ancient statue; yet his appearance was rendered strange and somewhatuncouth, by convulsive cramps, by the scars of that distemper which itwas once imagined the royal touch could cure, and by a slovenly mode ofdress. He had the use only of one eye; yet so much does mind govern andeven supply the deficiency of organs, that his visual perceptions, asfar as they extended, were uncommonly quick and accurate[1286]. Somorbid was his temperament, that he never knew the natural joy of a freeand vigorous use of his limbs: when he walked, it was like thestruggling gait of one in fetters; when he rode, he had no command ordirection of his horse, but was carried as if in a balloon[1287]. Thatwith his constitution and habits of life he should have livedseventy-five years, is a proof that an inherent _vivida vis_[1288] is apowerful preservative of the human frame.Man is, in general, made up of contradictory qualities; and these willever shew themselves in strange succession, where a consistency inappearance at least, if not in reality, has not been attained by longhabits of philosophical discipline. In proportion to the native vigourof the mind, the contradictory qualities will be the more prominent, andmore difficult to be adjusted; and, therefore, we are not to wonder,that Johnson exhibited an eminent example of this remark which I havemade upon human nature. At different times, he seemed a different man,in some respects; not, however, in any great or essential article, uponwhich he had fully employed his mind, and settled certain principles ofduty, but only in his manners, and in the display of argument and fancyin his talk. He was prone to superstition, but not to credulity. Thoughhis imagination might incline him to a belief of the marvellous and themysterious, his vigorous reason examined the evidence withjealousy[1289]. He was a sincere and zealous Christian, of highChurch-of-England and monarchical principles, which he would not tamelysuffer to be questioned; and had, perhaps, at an early period, narrowedhis mind somewhat too much, both as to religion and politicks. His beingimpressed with the danger of extreme latitude in either, though he wasof a very independent spirit, occasioned his appearing somewhatunfavourable to the prevalence of that noble freedom of sentiment whichis the best possession of man. Nor can it be denied, that he had manyprejudices; which, however, frequently suggested many of his pointedsayings, that rather shew a playfulness of fancy than any settledmalignity. He was steady and inflexible in maintaining the obligationsof religion and morality; both from a regard for the order of society,and from a veneration for the GREAT SOURCE of all order; correct, naystern in his taste; hard to please, and easily offended[1290]; impetuousand irritable in his temper, but of a most humane and benevolentheart[1291], which shewed itself not only in a most liberal charity, asfar as his circumstances would allow, but in a thousand instances ofactive benevolence. He was afflicted with a bodily disease, which madehim often restless and fretful; and with a constitutional melancholy,the clouds of which darkened the brightness of his fancy, and gave agloomy cast to his whole course of thinking: we, therefore, ought not towonder at his sallies of impatience and passion at any time; especiallywhen provoked by obtrusive ignorance, or presuming petulance; andallowance must be made for his uttering hasty and satirical sallies evenagainst his best friends. And, surely, when it is considered, that,'amidst sickness and sorrow[1292],'he exerted his faculties in so manyworks for the benefit of mankind, and particularly that he atchieved thegreat and admirable DICTIONARY of our language, we must be astonished athis resolution. The solemn text, 'of him to whom much is given, muchwill be required[1293],' seems to have been ever present to his mind, ina rigorous sense, and to have made him dissatisfied with his labours andacts of goodness, however comparatively great; so that the unavoidableconsciousness of his superiority was, in that respect, a cause ofdisquiet. He suffered so much from this, and from the gloom whichperpetually haunted him, and made solitude frightful, that it may besaid of him, 'If in this life only he had hope, he was of all men mostmiserable[1294].' He loved praise, when it was brought to him; but wastoo proud to seek for it. He was somewhat susceptible of flattery. As hewas general and unconfined in his studies, he cannot be considered asmaster of any one particular science; but he had accumulated a vast andvarious collection of learning and knowledge, which was so arranged inhis mind, as to be ever in readiness to be brought forth. But hissuperiority over other learned men consisted chiefly in what may becalled the art of thinking, the art of using his mind; a certaincontinual power of seizing the useful substance of all that he knew, andexhibiting it in a clear and forcible manner; so that knowledge, whichwe often see to be no better than lumber in men of dull understanding,was, in him, true, evident, and actual wisdom. His moral precepts arepractical; for they are drawn from an intimate acquaintance with humannature. His maxims carry conviction; for they are founded on the basisof common sense, and a very attentive and minute survey of real life.His mind was so full of imagery, that he might have been perpetually apoet; yet it is remarkable, that, however rich his prose is in thisrespect, his poetical pieces, in general, have not much of thatsplendour, but are rather distinguished by strong sentiment and acuteobservation, conveyed in harmonious and energetick verse, particularlyin heroick couplets. Though usually grave, and even aweful, in hisdeportment, he possessed uncommon and peculiar powers of wit and humour;he frequently indulged himself in colloquial pleasantry; and theheartiest merriment[1295] was often enjoyed in his company; with thisgreat advantage, that as it was entirely free from any poisonoustincture of vice or impiety, it was salutary to those who sharedin it. He had accustomed himself to such accuracy in his commonconversation[1296], that he at all times expressed his thoughts withgreat force, and an elegant choice of language, the effect of which wasaided by his having a loud voice, and a slow deliberate utterance[1297].In him were united a most logical head with a most fertile imagination,which gave him an extraordinary advantage in arguing: for he couldreason close or wide, as he saw best for the moment. Exulting in hisintellectual strength and dexterity, he could, when he pleased, be thegreatest sophist that ever contended in the lists of declamation; and,from a spirit of contradiction and a delight in shewing his powers, hewould often maintain the wrong side with equal warmth and ingenuity; sothat, when there was an audience, his real opinions could seldom begathered from his talk[1298]; though when he was in company with asingle friend, he would discuss a subject with genuine fairness: but hewas too conscientious to make errour permanent and pernicious, bydeliberately writing it; and, in all his numerous works, he earnestlyinculcated what appeared to him to be the truth; his piety beingconstant, and the ruling principle of all his conduct[1299].Such was SAMUEL JOHNSON, a man whose talents, acquirements, andvirtues, were so extraordinary, that the more his character isconsidered, the more he will be regarded by the present age, and byposterity, with admiration and reverence[1300].APPENDIX A.(_Page_ 115, _note_ 4.)There are at least three accounts of this altercation and three versionsof the lines. Two of these versions nearly agree. The earliest is foundin a letter by Richard Burke, senior, dated Jan. 6, 1773 (_BurkeCorres_. i. 403); the second in _The Annual Register_ for 1776, p. 223;and the third in Miss Reynolds's _Recollections_ (Croker's _Boswell_,8vo. p. 833). R. Burke places the scene in Reynolds's house. Whether hehimself was present is not clear. 'The dean,' he says, 'asserted thatafter forty-five a man did not improve. "I differ with you, Sir,"answered Johnson; "a man may improve, and you yourself have great roomfor improvement." The dean was confounded, and for the instant silent.Recovering, he said, "On recollection I see no cause to alter myopinion, except I was to call it improvement for a man to grow (which Iallow he may) positive, rude, and insolent, and save arguments bybrutality."' Neither the _Annual Register_ nor Miss Reynolds reports theDean's speech. But she says that 'soon after the ladies withdrew, Dr.Johnson followed them, and sitting down by the lady of the house [thatis by herself, if they were at Sir Joshua's] he said, "I am very sorryfor having spoken so rudely to the Dean." "You very well may, Sir.""Yes," he said, "it was highly improper to speak in that style to aminister of the gospel, and I am the more hurt on reflecting with whatmild dignity he received it."' If Johnson really spoke of the Dean's_mild dignity_, it is clear that Richard Burke's account is wrong. Butit was written just after the scene, and Boswell says there was 'apretty smart altercation.' Miss Reynolds continues:--'When the Dean cameup into the drawing-room, Dr. Johnson immediately rose from his seat,and made him sit on the sofa by him, and with such a beseeching look forpardon and with such fond gestures--literally smoothing down his armsand his knees,' &c. The _Annual Register_ says that Barnard the next daysent the verses addressed to 'Sir Joshua Reynolds & Co.' On the nextpage I give Richard Burke's version of the lines, and show the variousreadings.MISS REYNOLD'S RICHARD BURKE'S VERSION. _Annual Register_VERSIONI lately thought no man aliveCould e'er improve past forty-five,And ventured to assert it;The observation was not new,But seem'd to me so just and true,That none could controvert it.'No, Sir,' says Johnson, ''tis not so;'Tis _That's_ your mistake, and I can showAn instance, if you doubt it;You who perhaps are _You, Sir, who are near_ forty-eight,still May _much_ improve, 'tis not too late;I wish you'd set about it.'Encouraged thus to mend my faults,I turn'd his counsel in my thoughts,could Which way I _should_ apply it:Genius I knew was _Learning and wit seem'd_ past my reach,what none can For who can learn _where none will_ teach? whenAnd wit--I could not buy it.Then come, my friends, and try your skill,may You _can improve me, if you will; inform(My books are at a distance).