CHAPTER XVI.

JOHNSON CONTINUED.

His health began to break down about fifteen years before his death. "In 1766, his constitution," says Murphy, "seemed to be in a rapid decline, and that morbid melancholy which often clouded his understanding, came upon him with a deeper gloom than ever. Mr. and Mrs. Thrale paid him a visit in this situation, and found him on his knees with a clergyman, beseeching God to continue to him the use of his understanding." From this period to his seventy-third year his fits of melancholy were frequent and severe, though he continued to go into society as before; but lively as his conversation was at all times, his gaiety, he said, was all on the outside. "I may be cracking my jokes, and yet cursing the sunsun, how I hate thy beams!"

In 1782, he complains of being "afflicted with a very irksome and severe disorder, that his respiration was impeded, and much blood had been taken away." His disorder was asthma: it appears that he was repeatedly blooded for it, and subsequently the only relief he could obtain was by the daily use of opium to the extent of three or four grains. The propriety of this bleeding, at the age of seventy-three, for a spasmodic malady, which was capable of being relieved by opium, is more than questionable; there can, indeed, be very little doubt that it was fatal to the powers of his constitution, and that the

palsy and dropsy which very soon ensued, were the effects of the debility so great a loss of blood occasioned. The diseases of old men whose vital energies have been expended in literary pursuits are seldom to be remedied by the lancet, and when employed in such cases, it is very often "the little instrument of mighty mischief," which Reid has termed it. About a year after his first attack of asthma, during which time he was frequently bled for the disorder, he was seized with paralysis, that malady which literary men more than any any others have reason to guard against. The vigour of his great mind was manifested on this occasion in communicating the intelligence of his calamity to one of his friends. A few hours only after his attack, while he was deprived of speech, and of the power of moving from his bed, he so far triumphed over his infirmities as to write to Dr. Taylor the following account of his condition. "It has pleased God, by a paralytic stroke in the night, to deprive me of speech. I am very desirous of Dr. Heberden's assistance, as I think my case is not past remedy. Let me see you as soon as it is possible; bring Dr. Heberden with you, if you can; but come yourself at all events. I am glad you are so well, when I am so dreadfully attacked. I think that by a speedy application of stimulants, much may be done. I question if a vomit, vigorous and rough, would not rouse the organs of speech to action. As it is too early to send, I will try to recollect what I can that may be suspected to have brought on this dreadful disease. I have been accustomed to bleed frequently for an asthmatic complaint, but have forborne some time by Dr. Pepy's persuasion, who perceived my legs beginning to swell."

How strongly is the powerful intellect of Johnson, (yet

unimpaired by his disorder,) shown in these few emphatic words! The urgency of the case, the necessity for prompt assistance, and the consciousness of the debility that had been brought on his constitution by so much depletion; and yet what extraordinary ignorance of the common principles of medicine is exhibited in the remedial plan he proposes for his relief! The merest tyro in the medical art would have seen nothing in the administration of the vomit vigorous and rough, but the prospect of aggravated danger, of increased determination to the head, and even of sudden death, though he might be aware that such a remedy had the sanction of some recent authorities.

The treatment of diseases is not, however, the subject we have to do with; we have only noticed a circumstance which proves how very ignorant of the principles of medicine, and of the nature of a disease which literary men are especially subject to, the most learned persons are frequently found to be.

Johnson survived his attack of paralysis a year and a half, during which time he laboured under a complication of disorders, gout, asthma, and dropsy, which rendered his life miserable, but yet did not prevent him from performing a journey to his native town, and from engaging on his return in his literary pursuits.

Johnson was one of those few fortunate children of genius who have not to complain of the tardy justice of their times: his great merit in his lifetime was universally acknowledged, and public as well as private admiration and gratitude were not limited to the justice that his memory was entitled to, but were displayed in acts of generosity that were calculated to reward the exertions of the living man, and to increase his comforts in

sickness and distress. There was no subscription at his death for the purchase of his Bolt-court tenement, to bestow on Mrs. Lucy Porter, of Lichfield, and her descendants-there was no appeal made to the pockets of the public for the erection of a pillar to perpetuate his fame; but the bounty of his sovereign was extended to him in his indigence, and in the hour of sickness the beneficent hand of private friendship and of public benevolence was held forth to him. When there was a question of enabling him to visit Italy for the recovery of his health, Lord Thurlow, we are told, offered five hundred pounds to meet the expenses of his journey: and his amiable physician, Dr. Brocklesby, signified his intention of adding a hundred a year to his income for life, in order that he might not want the means of giving to the remainder of his days tranquillity and comfort. The conduct of Brocklesby was worthy of the just and elegant compliment which Johnson paid to his profession, in his life of Garth. "I believe every man has found in physicians great liberality and dignity of sentiment, very prompt effusions of beneficence, and willingness to exert a lucrative art where there is no hope of lucre."

Johnson continued to struggle with his complaints till the latter part of 1784. His earnest and constant prayer, that he might be permitted to deliver up his soul uncloud ed to God, was granted: he died in his perfect senses, resigned to his situation, at peace with himself and in charity with all men, in his seventy-fifth year.

The circumstances that we have noticed, connected with the disorder of this great and good man, are amply sufficient to show that the many striking inconsistencies and eccentricities in his character and conduct, were occasioned by disease, or fostered by its influence. His

original disorder, it is evident, was a scrofulous affection, which in early life debilitated his constitution, and gave that predisposition to hypochondria which dogged his whole career.

Hahneman, one of the best observers of disease (whatever his character as a pharmaceutical theorist may be) that medical science has to boast of, attributes half the disorders of humanity to a scrofulous or scorbutic taint in the constitution, and that such a taint is calculated to nurture and develope the seeds of an hereditary disease like that of Johnson's hypochondria, there can be little doubt. At all events, if proof were requisite, we trust sufficient has been adduced to show that Johnson's failings were largely influenced by the infirmities of disease, and were foreign to the original complexion of his disposition and the character of his noble nature.