Life Of Johnson, Volume 4 (of 6) - Boswell
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I am, &c. SAM. JOHNSON[710]. June 17, 1783.'
Two days after he wrote thus to Mrs. Thrale[711]:--
'On Monday, the 16th, I sat for my picture[712], and walked a
considerable way with little inconvenience. In the afternoon and evening
I felt myself light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. Thus I
went to bed, and in a short time waked and sat up, as has been long my
custom, when I felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which
lasted, I suppose, about half a minute. I was alarmed, and prayed God,
that however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding.
This prayer, that I might try the integrity of my faculties, I made in
Latin verse[713]. The lines were not very good, but I knew them not to
be very good: I made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired
in my faculties.
Soon after I perceived that I had suffered a paralytick stroke, and that
my speech was taken from me. I had no pain, and so little dejection in
this dreadful state, that I wondered at my own apathy, and considered
that perhaps death itself, when it should come, would excite less
horrour than seems now to attend it.
In order to rouse the vocal organs, I took two drams. Wine has been
celebrated for the production of eloquence. I put myself 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[714], 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.
SAM. JOHNSON. June 18, 1783.'
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[715]. He indeed loved Davies cordially, of which I shall give the
following little evidence. One day when he had treated him with too 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 sent
after him, delivered this note:--'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 hand, 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
surprize 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[716], where Lord
Palmerston was proposed, and, against my opinion, was rejected[717]. 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 frequently enquired after me. Most of
my friends have, indeed, been very attentive[718]. 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 humble 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 own, I am gradually mending. The
Physicians consider me as cured; and I had leave, four days ago, to wash
the cantharides from my head. Last Tuesday I dined at THE CLUB.
I am going next week into Kent, and purpose to change the air frequently
this summer; whether I shall wander so far as Staffordshire I cannot
tell. I should be glad to come. Return my thanks to Mrs. Cobb, and Mr.
Pearson, and all that have shewn attention to me.
Let us, my dear, pray for one another, and consider our sufferings as
notices mercifully given us to prepare ourselves for another state.
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[719]; 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, doubtless, 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[720], where
he passed about a fortnight, and made little excursions as easily as at
any time of his life[721]. In August he went as far as the neighbourhood
of Salisbury, to Heale[722], the seat of William Bowles, Esq[723]., 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.'
'To DR. BROCKLESBY. Heale, near Salisbury, Aug. 29, 1783.
DEAR SIR, Without appearing to want a just sense of your kind attention,
I cannot omit to give an account of the day which seemed to appear in
some sort perilous. I rose at five and went out at six, and having
reached Salisbury about nine[724], went forward a few miles in my
friend's chariot. I was no more wearied with the journey, though it was
a high-hung, rough coach, than I should have been forty years ago. We
shall now see what air will do. The country is all a plain; 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 pleasant.
Be so kind as to continue your attention to Mrs. Williams; it is great
consolation to the well, and still greater to the sick, that they find
themselves not neglected; and I know that you will be desirous of giving
comfort even where you have no great hope of giving help.
Since I wrote the former part of the letter, I find that by the course
of the post I cannot send it before the thirty-first.
I am, &c. SAM. JOHNSON.'
While he was here he had a letter from Dr. Brocklesby, acquainting him
of the death of Mrs. Williams, which affected him a good deal[725].
Though for several years her temper had not been complacent, she had
valuable qualities, and her departure left a blank in his house[726].
Upon this occasion he, according to his habitual course of piety,
composed a prayer[727].
I shall here insert a few particulars concerning him, with which I have
been favoured by one of his friends[728].
'He had once conceived the design of writing the Life of Oliver
Cromwell[729], saying, that he thought it must be highly curious to
trace his extraordinary rise to the supreme power, from so obscure a
beginning. He at length laid aside his scheme, on discovering that all
that can be told of him is already in print; and that it is
impracticable to procure any authentick information in addition to what
the world is already possessed of[730].'
'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 authours who have ever written[731].'
'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 letter 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 layed 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 drawingly than hastily:
because hasty speech confounds the memory, and oftentimes, besides the
unseemliness, drives the man either to stammering, a non-plus, or
harping on that which should follow; whereas a slow speech confirmeth
the memory, addeth a conceit of wisdom to the hearers, besides a
seemliness of speech and countenance[732]." Dr. Johnson's method of
conversation was certainly calculated to excite attention, and to amuse
and instruct, (as it 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[733].'
'He spoke often in praise of French literature. "The French are
excellent in this, (he would say,) they have a book on every
subject[734]." From what he had seen of them he denied them the praise
of superiour politeness[735], 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[736]."'
'Baxter's _Reasons of the Christian Religion_, he thought contained the
best collection of the evidences of the divinity of the
Christian system.'
'Chymistry[737] 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[738]. In the
course of the experiments frequent mention being made of Dr. Priestley,
Dr. Johnson knit his brows, and in a stern manner enquired, "Why do we
hear so much of Dr. Priestley[739]?" He was very 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."'
'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[740].'
On his return from Heale he wrote to Dr. Burney:--
'I came home on the 18th[741] at noon to a very disconsolate house. You
and I have lost our friends[742]; but you have more friends at home. My
domestick 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[743]. 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 he says, 'I beg your acceptance of
these volumes, as an acknowledgement of the great favours which you have
bestowed on, Sir, your most obliged and most humble servant.' I have in
my possession several more letters from him to Mr. Cruikshank, and also
to Dr. Mudge at Plymouth, which it would be improper to insert, as they
are filled with unpleasing technical details. I shall, however, extract
from his letters to Dr. Mudge such passages as shew either a felicity of
expression, or the undaunted state of his mind.
'My conviction of your skill, and my belief of your friendship,
determine me to intreat 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[744]; but I am loth to put life into much
hazard.'--'By representing the gout as an antagonist 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[745], much less fierce and
fiery than this.'--'Write, dear Sir, what you can to inform or encourage
me. The operation is not delayed by any fears or objections of mine.'
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 so much time to pass without paying any acknowledgement. I
now, at last, return my thanks; and why I did it not sooner I ought to
tell you. I went into Wiltshire as soon as I well could, and was there
much employed in palliating my own malady. Disease produces much
selfishness. A man in pain is looking after ease; and lets most other
things go as chance shall dispose of them. In the mean time I have lost
a companion[746], to whom I have had recourse for domestick amusement
for thirty years, and whose variety of knowledge never was exhausted;
and now return to a habitation vacant and desolate. I carry about a very
troublesome and dangerous complaint, which admits no cure but by the
chirurgical knife. Let me have your prayers. I am, &c.
SAM. JOHNSON. London, Sept. 29, 1783.'
Happily the complaint abated without his being put to the torture of
amputation. But we must surely admire the manly resolution which he
discovered while it hung over him.
In a letter to the same gentleman he writes, 'The gout has within these
four days come upon me with a violence which I never experienced before.
It made me helpless as an infant.' And in another, having mentioned Mrs.
Williams, he says,--'whose death following that of Levett, has now made
my house a solitude. She left her little substance to a charity-school.
She is, I hope, where there is neither darkness, nor want, nor sorrow.'
I wrote to him, begging to know the state of his health, and mentioned
that Baxter's _Anacreon_[747], 'which is in the library at Auchinleck,
was, I find, collated by my father in 1727, with the MS. belonging to
the University of Leyden, and he has made a number of Notes upon it.
Would you advise me to publish a new edition of it?'
His answer was dated September 30:--
'You should not make your letters such rarities, when you know, or might
know, the uniform state of my health. It is very long since I heard from
you; and that I have not answered is a very insufficient reason for the
silence of a friend. Your _Anacreon_ is a very uncommon book; neither
London nor Cambridge can supply a copy of that edition. Whether it
should be reprinted, you cannot do better than consult Lord
Hailes.--Besides my constant and radical disease, I have been for these
ten days much harassed with the gout; but that has now remitted. I hope
GOD will yet grant me a little longer life, and make me less unfit to
appear before him.'
He this autumn received a visit from the celebrated Mrs. Siddons. He
gives this account of it in one of his letters[748] to Mrs. Thrale:--
'Mrs. Siddons, in her visit to me, behaved with great modesty and
propriety, and left nothing behind her to be censured or despised.
Neither praise nor money, the two powerful corrupters of mankind, seem
to have depraved her. I shall be glad to see her again. Her brother
Kemble calls on me, and pleases me very well. Mrs. Siddons and I talked
of plays; and she told me her intention of exhibiting this winter the
characters of Constance, Catharine, and Isabella, in Shakspeare.'
Mr. Kemble has favoured me with the following minute of what passed at
this visit:--
'When Mrs. Siddons came into the room, there happened to be no chair
ready for her, which he observing, said with a smile, "Madam, you who so
often occasion a want of seats to other people, will the more easily
excuse the want of one yourself[749]."
Having placed himself by her, he with great good-humour entered upon a
consideration of the English drama; and, among other inquiries,
particularly asked her which of Shakspeare's characters she was most
pleased with. Upon her answering that she thought the character of Queen
Catharine, in _Henry the Eighth_, the most natural:--"I think so too,
Madam, (said he;) and whenever you perform it, I will once more hobble
out to the theatre myself[750]." Mrs. Siddons promised she would do
herself the honour of acting his favourite part for him; but many
circumstances happened to prevent the representation of _King Henry the
Eighth_ during the Doctor's life.
'In the course of the evening he thus gave his opinion upon the merits
of some of the principal performers whom he remembered to have seen upon
the stage. "Mrs. Porter,[751] in the vehemence of rage, and Mrs. Clive
in the sprightliness of humour, I have never seen equalled. What Clive
did best, she did better than Garrick; but could not do half so many
things well; she was a better romp than any I ever saw in nature[752].
Pritchard[753], in common life, was a vulgar ideot; she would talk of
her _gownd_: but, when she appeared upon the stage, seemed to be
inspired by gentility and understanding. I once talked with Colley
Cibber[754], and thought him ignorant of the principles of his art.
Garrick, Madam, was no declaimer; there was not one of his own
scene-shifters who could not have spoken _To be, or not to be_, better
than he did[755]; yet he was the only actor I ever saw, whom I could
call a master both in tragedy and comedy[756]; though I liked him best
in comedy. A true conception of character, and natural expression of it,
were his distinguished excellencies." Having expatiated, with his usual
force and eloquence, on Mr. Garrick's extraordinary eminence as an
actor, he concluded with this compliment to his social talents: "And
after all, Madam, I thought him less to be envied on the stage than at
the head of a table."'
Johnson, indeed, had thought more upon the subject of acting than might
be generally supposed[757]. Talking of it one day to Mr. Kemble, he
said, 'Are you, Sir, one of those enthusiasts who believe yourself
transformed into the very character you represent?' Upon Mr. Kemble's
answering that he had never felt so strong a persuasion himself[758];
'To be sure not, Sir, (said Johnson;) the thing is impossible. And if
Garrick really believed himself to be that monster, Richard the Third,
he deserved to be hanged every time he performed it[759].'
A pleasing instance of the generous attention of one of his friends has
been discovered by the publication of Mrs. Thrale's collection of
_Letters_. In a letter to one of the Miss Thrales[760], he writes,--
'A friend, whose name I will tell when your mamma has tried to guess
it, sent to my physician to enquire whether this long train of illness
had brought me into difficulties for want of money, with an invitation
to send to him for what occasion required. I shall write this night to
thank him, having no need to borrow.'
And afterwards, in a letter to Mrs. Thrale,--
'Since you cannot guess, I will tell you, that the generous man was
Gerard Hamilton. I returned him a very thankful and respectful
letter[761].'
I applied to Mr. Hamilton, by a common friend, and he has been so
obliging as to let me have Johnson's letter to him upon this occasion,
to adorn my collection.
'To THE RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM GERARD HAMILTON.
'DEAR SIR,
'Your kind enquiries after my affairs, and your generous offers, have
been communicated to me by Dr. Brocklesby. I return thanks with great
sincerity, having lived long enough to know what gratitude is due to
such friendship; and entreat that my refusal may not be imputed to
sullenness or pride. I am, indeed, in no want. Sickness is, by the
generosity of my physicians, of little expence to me. But if any
unexpected exigence should press me, you shall see, dear Sir, how
cheerfully I can be obliged to so much liberality.
'I am, Sir,
Your most obedient
And most humble servant,
SAM. JOHNSON.'
'November, 19, 1783[762].'
I find in this, as in former years, notices of his kind attention to
Mrs. Gardiner[763], who, though in the humble station of a
tallow-chandler upon Snow-hill, was a woman of excellent good sense,
pious, and charitable. She told me, she had been introduced to him by
Mrs. Masters[764], the poetess, whose volumes he revised, and, it is
said, illuminated here and there with a ray of his own genius. Mrs.
Gardiner was very zealous for the support of the Ladies' charity-school,
in the parish of St. Sepulchre. It is confined to females; and, I am
told, it afforded a hint for the story of _Betty Broom_ in _The
Idler_[765]. Johnson this year, I find, obtained for it a sermon from
the late Bishop of St. Asaph, Dr. Shipley, whom he, in one of his
letters to Mrs. Thrale[766], characterises as 'knowing and conversible;'
and whom all who knew his Lordship, even those who differed from him in
politicks, remember with much respect[767].