Life of Johnson Volume IV Part 12

'January 5, 1782.'

At a time when he was less able than he had once been to sustain a shock, he was suddenly deprived of Mr. Levett, which event he thus communicated to Dr. Lawrence:--

'SIR,

'Our old friend, Mr. Levett, who was last night eminently cheerful, died this morning. The man who lay in the same room, hearing an uncommon noise, got up and tried to make him speak, but without effect. He then called Mr. Holder, the apothecary, who, though when he came he thought him dead, opened a vein, but could draw no blood. So has ended the long life of a very useful and very blameless man.

'I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Jan. 17, 1782.'

In one of his memorandum-books in my possession, is the following entry:--

'January 20, Sunday. Robert Levett was buried in the church-yard of Bridewell, between one and two in the afternoon. He died on Thursday 17, about seven in the morning, by an instantaneous death. He was an old and faithful friend; I have known him from about 46. _Commendavi_. May G.o.d have mercy on him. May he have mercy on me.'

Such was Johnson's affectionate regard for Levett[433], that he honoured his memory with the following pathetick verses:--

'Condemd'd to Hope's delusive mine, As on we toil from day to day, By sudden blast or slow decline Our social comforts drop away.

Well try'd through many a varying year, See LEVETT to the grave descend; Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend[434].

Yet still he fills affection's eye, Obscurely wise[435], and coa.r.s.ely kind; Nor, letter'd arrogance[436], deny Thy praise to merit unrefin'd.

When fainting Nature call'd for aid, And hov'ring Death prepar'd the blow, His vigorous remedy display'd The power of art without the show.

In Misery's darkest caverns known, His ready help was ever nigh, Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan, And lonely want retir'd to die[437].

No summons mock'd by chill delay, No petty gains disdain'd by pride; The modest wants of every day The toil of every day supply'd.

His virtues walk'd their narrow round, Nor made a pause, nor left a void; And sure the Eternal Master found His single talent well employ'd.

The busy day, the peaceful night[438], Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; His frame was firm, his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh[439].

Then, with no throbs of fiery pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.'

In one of Johnson's registers of this year, there occurs the following curious pa.s.sage:--

'Jan. 20[440]. The Ministry is dissolved. I prayed with Francis and gave thanks[441].'

It has been the subject of discussion, whether there are two distinct particulars mentioned here? or that we are to understand the giving of thanks to be in consequence of the dissolution of the Ministry? In support of the last of these conjectures may be urged his mean opinion of that Ministry, which has frequently appeared in the course of this work[442]; and it is strongly confirmed by what he said on the subject to Mr. Seward:--'I am glad the Ministry is removed. Such a bunch of imbecility never disgraced a country[443]. If they sent a messenger into the City to take up a printer, the messenger was taken up instead of the printer, and committed by the sitting Alderman[444]. If they sent one army to the relief of another, the first army was defeated and taken before the second arrived[445]. I will not say that what they did was always wrong; but it was always done at a wrong time[446].'

'TO MRS. STRAHAN.

'DEAR MADAM,

'Mrs. Williams shewed me your kind letter. This little habitation is now but a melancholy place, clouded with the gloom of disease and death. Of the four inmates, one has been suddenly s.n.a.t.c.hed away; two are oppressed by very afflictive and dangerous illness; and I tried yesterday to gain some relief by a third bleeding, from a disorder which has for some time distressed me, and I think myself to-day much better.

'I am glad, dear Madam, to hear that you are so far recovered as to go to Bath. Let me once more entreat you to stay till your health is not only obtained, but confirmed. Your fortune is such as that no moderate expence deserves your care; and you have a husband, who, I believe, does not regard it. Stay, therefore, till you are quite well. I am, for my part, very much deserted; but complaint is useless. I hope G.o.d will bless you, and I desire you to form the same wish for me.

'I am, dear Madam,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Feb. 4, 1782.'

'To EDMOND MALONE, ESQ.

'SIR,

'I have for many weeks been so much out of order, that I have gone out only in a coach to Mrs. Thrale's, where I can use all the freedom that sickness requires. Do not, therefore, take it amiss, that I am not with you and Dr. Farmer. I hope hereafter to see you often.

'I am, Sir,

'Your most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'Feb. 27, 1782.'

To THE SAME.

'DEAR SIR,

'I hope I grow better, and shall soon be able to enjoy the kindness of my friends. I think this wild adherence to Chatterton[447] more unaccountable than the obstinate defence of Ossian. In Ossian there is a national pride, which may be forgiven, though it cannot be applauded. In Chatterton there is nothing but the resolution to say again what has once been said.

'I am, Sir,

'Your humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

'March 7, 1782.'

These short letters shew the regard which Dr. Johnson entertained for Mr. Malone, who the more he is known is the more highly valued. It is much to be regretted that Johnson was prevented from sharing the elegant hospitality of that gentleman's table, at which he would in every respect have been fully gratified. Mr. Malone, who has so ably succeeded him as an Editor of Shakspeare, has, in his Preface, done great and just honour to Johnson's memory.

'TO MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD.

'DEAR MADAM,

'I went away from Lichfield ill, and have had a troublesome time with my breath; for some weeks I have been disordered by a cold, of which I could not get the violence abated, till I had been let blood three times. I have not, however, been so bad but that I could have written, and am sorry that I neglected it.

'My dwelling is but melancholy; both Williams, and Desmoulins, and myself, are very sickly: Frank is not well; and poor Levett died in his bed the other day, by a sudden stroke; I suppose not one minute pa.s.sed between health and death; so uncertain are human things.