'----------------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;
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 odd
thought strikes me: we shall receive no letters in the grave[1258].'
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[1259]. Sir Joshua readily acquiesced[1260].
Indeed he shewed the greatest anxiety for the religious improvement of
his friends, to whom he discoursed of its infinite consequence. He
begged of Mr. Hoole to think of what he had said, and to commit it to
writing: and, upon being afterwards assured that this was done, pressed
his hands, and in an earnest tone thanked him. Dr. Brocklesby having
attended him with the utmost assiduity and kindness as his physician and
friend, he was peculiarly desirous that this gentleman should not
entertain any loose speculative notions, but be confirmed in the truths
of Christianity, and insisted on his writing down in his presence, as
nearly as he could collect it, the import of what passed on the subject:
and Dr. Brocklesby having complied with the request, he made him sign
the paper, and urged him to keep it in his own custody as long as he
lived[1261].
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 bear 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[1262].'
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[1263].
Dr. Brocklesby, who will not be suspected of fanaticism, obliged me with
the following accounts:--
'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.
'He talked often to me about the necessity of faith in the _sacrifice_
of Jesus, as necessary beyond all good works whatever, for the salvation
of mankind.
'He pressed me to study Dr. Clarke and to read his Sermons. I asked him
why he pressed Dr. Clarke, an Arian[1264]. "Because, (said he,) he is
fullest on the _propitiatory sacrifice_."'
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[1265]:--
'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[1266], 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[1267], 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[1268], 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[1269].'
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[1270], 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 enquired 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 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 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[1271]. His
schoolfellow, Dr. Taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the
burial service[1272].
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[1273], Philosopher, and Friend[1274].' I shall, therefore, not
say one word of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend[1275],
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[1276].'
As Johnson had abundant homage paid to him during his life[1277], so no
writer in this nation ever had such an accumulation of literary honours
after his death. A sermon upon that event was preached in St. Mary's
Church, Oxford, before the University, by the Reverend Mr. Agutter, of
Magdalen College[1278]. The _Lives_, the _Memoirs_, the _Essays_, both
in prose and verse, which have been published concerning him, would make
many volumes. The numerous attacks too upon him, I consider as part of
his consequence, upon the principle which he himself so well knew and
asserted[1279]. Many who trembled at his presence, were forward in
assault, when they no longer apprehended danger. When one of his little
pragmatical foes was invidiously snarling at his fame, at Sir Joshua
Reynolds's table, the Reverend Dr. Parr exclaimed, with his usual bold
animation, 'Ay, now that the old lion is dead, every ass thinks he may
kick at him.'
A monument for him, in Westminster Abbey, was resolved upon soon after
his death, and was supported by a most respectable contribution[1280];
but the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's having come to a resolution of
admitting monuments there, upon a liberal and magnificent plan, that
Cathedral was afterwards fixed on, as the place in which a cenotaph
should be erected to his memory[1281]: and in the cathedral of his
native city of Lichfield, a smaller one is to be erected. To compose his
epitaph, could not but excite the warmest competition of genius[1282].
If _laudari à laudato viro_ be praise which is highly estimable[1283],
I should not forgive myself were I to omit the following sepulchral
verses on the authour of THE ENGLISH DICTIONARY, written by the Right
Honourable Henry Flood[1284]:--
'No need of Latin or of Greek to grace
Our 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 the
course of this work, that they who have honoured it with a perusal, may
be considered as well acquainted with him. As, however, it may be
expected that I should collect into one view the capital and
distinguishing features of this extraordinary man, I shall endeavour to
acquit myself of that part of my biographical undertaking[1285], however
difficult it may be to do that which many of my readers will do better
for themselves.
His figure was large and well formed, and his countenance of the cast of
an ancient statue; yet his appearance was rendered strange and somewhat
uncouth, by convulsive cramps, by the scars of that distemper which it
was once imagined the royal touch could cure, and by a slovenly mode of
dress. He had the use only of one eye; yet so much does mind govern and
even supply the deficiency of organs, that his visual perceptions, as
far as they extended, were uncommonly quick and accurate[1286]. So
morbid was his temperament, that he never knew the natural joy of a free
and vigorous use of his limbs: when he walked, it was like the
struggling gait of one in fetters; when he rode, he had no command or
direction of his horse, but was carried as if in a balloon[1287]. That
with his constitution and habits of life he should have lived
seventy-five years, is a proof that an inherent _vivida vis_[1288] is a
powerful preservative of the human frame.
Man is, in general, made up of contradictory qualities; and these will
ever shew themselves in strange succession, where a consistency in
appearance at least, if not in reality, has not been attained by long
habits of philosophical discipline. In proportion to the native vigour
of the mind, the contradictory qualities will be the more prominent, and
more difficult to be adjusted; and, therefore, we are not to wonder,
that Johnson exhibited an eminent example of this remark which I have
made upon human nature. At different times, he seemed a different man,
in some respects; not, however, in any great or essential article, upon
which he had fully employed his mind, and settled certain principles of
duty, but only in his manners, and in the display of argument and fancy
in his talk. He was prone to superstition, but not to credulity. Though
his imagination might incline him to a belief of the marvellous and the
mysterious, his vigorous reason examined the evidence with
jealousy[1289]. He was a sincere and zealous Christian, of high
Church-of-England and monarchical principles, which he would not tamely
suffer to be questioned; and had, perhaps, at an early period, narrowed
his mind somewhat too much, both as to religion and politicks. His being
impressed with the danger of extreme latitude in either, though he was
of a very independent spirit, occasioned his appearing somewhat
unfavourable to the prevalence of that noble freedom of sentiment which
is the best possession of man. Nor can it be denied, that he had many
prejudices; which, however, frequently suggested many of his pointed
sayings, that rather shew a playfulness of fancy than any settled
malignity. He was steady and inflexible in maintaining the obligations
of religion and morality; both from a regard for the order of society,
and from a veneration for the GREAT SOURCE of all order; correct, nay
stern in his taste; hard to please, and easily offended[1290]; impetuous
and irritable in his temper, but of a most humane and benevolent
heart[1291], which shewed itself not only in a most liberal charity, as
far as his circumstances would allow, but in a thousand instances of
active benevolence. He was afflicted with a bodily disease, which made
him often restless and fretful; and with a constitutional melancholy,
the clouds of which darkened the brightness of his fancy, and gave a
gloomy cast to his whole course of thinking: we, therefore, ought not to
wonder at his sallies of impatience and passion at any time; especially
when provoked by obtrusive ignorance, or presuming petulance; and
allowance must be made for his uttering hasty and satirical sallies even
against his best friends. And, surely, when it is considered, that,
'amidst sickness and sorrow[1292],'he exerted his faculties in so many
works for the benefit of mankind, and particularly that he atchieved the
great and admirable DICTIONARY of our language, we must be astonished at
his resolution. The solemn text, 'of him to whom much is given, much
will be required[1293],' seems to have been ever present to his mind, in
a rigorous sense, and to have made him dissatisfied with his labours and
acts of goodness, however comparatively great; so that the unavoidable
consciousness of his superiority was, in that respect, a cause of
disquiet. He suffered so much from this, and from the gloom which
perpetually haunted him, and made solitude frightful, that it may be
said of him, 'If in this life only he had hope, he was of all men most
miserable[1294].' He loved praise, when it was brought to him; but was
too proud to seek for it. He was somewhat susceptible of flattery. As he
was general and unconfined in his studies, he cannot be considered as
master of any one particular science; but he had accumulated a vast and
various collection of learning and knowledge, which was so arranged in
his mind, as to be ever in readiness to be brought forth. But his
superiority over other learned men consisted chiefly in what may be
called the art of thinking, the art of using his mind; a certain
continual power of seizing the useful substance of all that he knew, and
exhibiting it in a clear and forcible manner; so that knowledge, which
we often see to be no better than lumber in men of dull understanding,
was, in him, true, evident, and actual wisdom. His moral precepts are
practical; for they are drawn from an intimate acquaintance with human
nature. His maxims carry conviction; for they are founded on the basis
of 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 a
poet; yet it is remarkable, that, however rich his prose is in this
respect, his poetical pieces, in general, have not much of that
splendour, but are rather distinguished by strong sentiment and acute
observation, conveyed in harmonious and energetick verse, particularly
in heroick couplets. Though usually grave, and even aweful, in his
deportment, he possessed uncommon and peculiar powers of wit and humour;
he frequently indulged himself in colloquial pleasantry; and the
heartiest merriment[1295] was often enjoyed in his company; with this
great advantage, that as it was entirely free from any poisonous
tincture of vice or impiety, it was salutary to those who shared
in it. He had accustomed himself to such accuracy in his common
conversation[1296], that he at all times expressed his thoughts with
great force, and an elegant choice of language, the effect of which was
aided 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 could
reason close or wide, as he saw best for the moment. Exulting in his
intellectual strength and dexterity, he could, when he pleased, be the
greatest sophist that ever contended in the lists of declamation; and,
from a spirit of contradiction and a delight in shewing his powers, he
would often maintain the wrong side with equal warmth and ingenuity; so
that, when there was an audience, his real opinions could seldom be
gathered from his talk[1298]; though when he was in company with a
single friend, he would discuss a subject with genuine fairness: but he
was too conscientious to make errour permanent and pernicious, by
deliberately writing it; and, in all his numerous works, he earnestly
inculcated what appeared to him to be the truth; his piety being
constant, and the ruling principle of all his conduct[1299].
Such was SAMUEL JOHNSON, a man whose talents, acquirements, and
virtues, were so extraordinary, that the more his character is
considered, the more he will be regarded by the present age, and by
posterity, with admiration and reverence[1300].