History of the Romans. By Mr. Bower*. On the morning of Dec. 7, Dr. Johnson requested to see Mr. Nichols. A few days before, he had borrowed some of the early vo lumes of the Magazine, with a professed intention to point out the pieces which he had written in that collection. The books lay on the table, with many leaves doubled down, and in particular those which contained his share in the Parliamentary Debates. Such was the goodness of Johnson's heart, that he then declared, that those debates were the only parts of his writings which gave him any compunction but that at the time he wrote "them he had no conception that he was imposing upon the world, though they were frequently written from very slender mate"rials, and often from none at all, the mere coinage of his own imagination." He added, 66 Before this authentic communication, Mr. Nichols had given in the volume of the Gentleman's Magazine for 1781, p. 370, the following account of the Universal History. The proposals were published October 6, 1729; and the authors of the first seven volumes were, Vol. I. Mr. Sale, translator of the Koran. Dr. Campbell. IV. The same as Vol. III. V. Mr. Bower. VI. Mr. Bower, Rev. John Swinton, VII. Mr. Swinton. Mr. Bower. 66 66 "that he never wrote any part of his work "with equal velocity. Three columns of the "Magazine in an hour," he said, was no un"common effort; which was faster than most persons could have transcribed that quantity. "In one day in particular, and that not a very long one, he wrote twelve pages, more in quantity than ever he wrote at any other " time, except in the Life of Savage, of which forty-eight pages in octavo were the produc"tion of one long day, including a part of the "night." 66 66 In the course of the conversation he asked, whether any of the family of Faden the printer were living. Being told that the geographer near Charing-cross was Faden's son, he said, after a short pause," I borrowed a guinea of "his father near thirty years ago; be so good as to take this, and pay it for me." 66 "I Wishing to discharge every duty, and every obligation, Johnson recollected another debt of ten pounds, which he had borrowed from his friend Mr. Hamilton the printer, about twenty years before. He sent the money to Mr. Hamilton at his house in Bedford-row, with an apology for the length of time. The Reverend Mr. Strahan was the bearer of the message, about four or five days before Johnson breathed his last. Mr. Sastres (whom Dr. Johnson esteemed and mentioned in his will) entered the room during his illness. Dr. Johnson, as soon as he saw him, stretched forth his hand, and, in a tone of lamentation, called out, JAM MORITURUS! But the love of life was still an active principal. Feeling himself swelled with the dropsy, he conceived that, by incisions in his legs, the water might be discharged. Mr. Cruikshank apprehended that a mortification might be the consequence; but, to appease a distempered fancy, he gently lanced the surface. Johnson cried out," Deeper, deeper! I want length of "life, and you are afraid of giving me pain, "which I do not value." On the 8th of December, the Reverend Mr. Strahan drew his will, by which, after a few legacies, the residue, amounting to about fifteen hundred pounds, was bequeathed to Frank, the Black servant, formerly consigned to the testator by his friend Dr. Bathurst. The history of a death-bed is painful. Mr. Strahan informs us, that the strength of religion prevailed against the infirmity of nature; and his foreboding dread of the Divine Justice sub sided into a pious trust and humble hope of mercy at the Throne of Grace. On Monday the 13th day of December (the last of his existence on this side the grave), the desire of life returned with all its former vehemence. He still imagined, that, by puncturing his legs, relief might be obtained. At eight in the morning he tried the experiment, but no water followed. In an hour or two after, he fell into a doze, and about seven in the evening expired without a groan. On the 20th of the month his remains, with due solemnities, and a numerous attendance of his friends, were buried in Westminster Ab bey, near the foot of Shakspeare's monument, and close to the grave of the late Mr. Garrick. The funeral service was read by his friend Dr. Taylor. A black marble over his grave has the following inscription: SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. MDCCLXXXIV. Etatis suæ LXXV. If we now look back, as from an eminence, to view the scenes of life, and the literary labours in which Dr. Johnson was engaged, we may be able to delineate the features of the man, and to form an estimate of his genius. As a man, Dr. Johnson stands displayed in open day-light. Nothing remains undiscovered, Whatever he said is known; and without allowing him the usual privilege of hazarding sentiments, and advancing positions, for mere amusement, or the pleasure of discussion, Criticism has endeavoured to make him answerable for what, perhaps, he never seriously thought. His diary, which has been printed, discovers still more. We have before us the very heart of the man, with all his inward consciousness. And yet neither in the open paths of life, nor in his secret recesses, has any one vice been discovered. We see him reviewing every year of his life, and severely censuring himself, for not keeping resolutions, which morbid melancholy, and other bodily infirmi ties, rendered impracticable. We see him for every little defect imposing on himself voluntary penance, going through the day with only one cup of tea without milk, and to the last, amidst paroxysms and remissions of illness, formning plans of study and resolutions to amend his life*. Many of his scruples may be called weaknesses; but they are the weaknesses of a good, a pious, and most excellent man. His person, it is well known, was large and unwieldy, His nerves were effected by that disorder, for which, at two years of age, he was presented to the royal touch. His head shook, and involuntary notions made it uncertain that his legs and arms would, even at a teatable, remain in their proper place. A person of Lord Chesterfield's delicacy might in his company be in a fever. He would sometimes of his own accord do things inconsistent with the established modes of behaviour. Sitting at table with the celebrated Mrs. Cholmondeley, who exerted herself to circulate the subscription for Shakspeare, he took hold of her hand in the middle of dinner, and held it close to his eye, wondering at the delicacy and whiteness, till with a smile she asked, Will he give it to me again when he has done with it? The exteriors of politeness did not belong to Johnson. Even that civility which proceeds, or ought to proceed, from the mind, was sometimes violated. His morbid melancholy had an effect on his temper; his passions were irritable; and the pride of science, as well as of a fierce indepen *On the subject of voluntary penance see the Rambler, N° CX. |