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with the greatest kindness and affection, and as to the Bas Bleu, all the flattery I ever received from everybody together would not make up his sum. He said, but I seriously insist you do not tell any body, for I am ashamed of writing it even to you ;-he said there was no name in poetry that might not be glad to own it. You cannot imagine how I stared; all this from Johnson, that parsimonious praiser! I told him I was delighted at his approbation; he answered quite characteristically, “And so you may, for I give you the opinion of a man who does not rate his judgment in these things very low, I can tell you."

MRS. HANNAH MORE TO HER SISTER (p. 376). Hampton, December, 1784. Poor dear Johnson! he is past all hope. The dropsy has brought him to the point of death; his legs are scarified but nothing will do. I have, however, the comfort to hear that his dread of dying is in a great measure subdued; and now he says "the bitterness of death is past." He sent the other day for Sir Joshua; and after much serious conversation told him he had three favours to beg of him, and he hoped he would not refuse a dying friend, be they what they would. Sir Joshua promised. The first was that he would never paint on a Sunday; the second that he would forgive him thirty pounds that he had lent him, as he wanted to leave them to a distressed family; the third was that he would read the bible whenever he had an opportunity; and that he would never omit it on a Sunday. There was no difficulty but upon the first point; but at length Sir Joshua promised to gratify him in all. How delighted should I be to hear the dying discourse of this great and good man, especially now that faith has subdued his fears. I wish I could see him.

MRS. HANNAH MORE TO HER SISTER (p. 392).
Hampton, 1785.

Mr. Pepys wrote me a very kind letter on the death of Johnson,

1 Her request was complied with, this passage never was shown to any one. We find a corroboration of this account in Johnson's own letters to Mrs. Thrale, he says "Miss More has written a poem called the Bas Bleu; which is in my opinion, a very great performance. It wanders about in manuscript, and surely will soon find its way to Bath."

thinking I should be impatient to hear something relating to his last hours. Dr. Brocklesby, his physician, was with him: he said to him a little before he died, "Doctor, you are a worthy man, and my friend, but I am afraid you are not a Christian! What can I do better for you than to offer up, in your presence, a prayer to the great God, that you may become a Christian in my sense of the word?" Instantly he fell on his knees, and put up a fervent prayer: when he got up he caught hold of his hand with great eagerness, and cried, "Doctor! you do not say, Amen!" The doctor looked foolish; but after a pause, cried, Amen! Johnson said, "My dear doctor, believe a dying man, there is no salvation but in the sacrifice of the Lamb of God. Go home, write down my prayer, and every word I have said, and bring it me to-morrow." Brocklesby did so.

A friend desired he would make his will; and as Hume, in his last moments, had made an impartial declaration of his opinions, he thought it might tend to counteract the poison, if Johnson would make a public confession of his faith in his will. He said he would, seized the pen with great earnestness, and asked, what was the usual form of beginning a will? His friend told him. After the usual forms he wrote, "I offer up my soul to the great and merciful God; I offer it full of pollution, but in full assurance that it will be cleansed in the blood of my Redeemer." And for some time he wrote on with the same vigour and spirit as if he had been in perfect health. When he expressed some of his former dread of dying, Sir John said, "If you, Doctor, have these fears, what is to become of others? "Oh! Sir," said he, "I have written piously, it is true; but I have lived too much like other men." It was a consolation to him, however, in his last hours that he had never written in derogation of religion or virtue. He talked of his death and funeral, at times, with great composure. On the Monday following, December the 13th, he fell into a sound sleep, and continued in that state for twelve hours, and then died without a groan.

No action of his life became him like the leaving it. His death makes a kind of era in literature: piety and goodness will not easily find a more able defender; and it is delightful to see him set, as it were, his dying seal to the professions of his life, and to the truth of Christianity.

I now recollect, with melancholy pleasure, two little anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, indicating a zeal for religion which one cannot

but admire, however characteristically rough. When the Abbé Raynal was introduced to him, upon the Abbé's advancing to shake his hand, the Doctor drew back, and put his hands behind him, and afterwards replied to the expostulation of a friend66 Sir, I will not shake hands with an infidel!" At another time, I remember asking him, if he did not think the Dean of Derry a very agreeable man, to which he made no answer; and on my repeating my question, "Child," said he, "I will not speak any thing in favour of a Sabbath-breaker, to please you, nor any one else."

(Page 403.)

Adelphi, 1785. Boswell tells me he is printing anecdotes of Johnson, not his life, but, as he has the vanity to call it, his pyramid. I besought his tenderness for our virtuous and most revered departed friend, and begged he would mitigate some of his asperities. He said, roughly, "He would not cut off his claws, nor make a tiger a cat, to please anybody." It will, I doubt not, be a very amusing book, but I hope not an indiscreet one; he has great enthusiasm, and some fire.

EXTRACTS RELATING TO JOHNSON

FROM THE

DIARY AND LETTERS OF MADAME

D'ARBLAY.

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