46 several members would fupply the Memoirs of the Academy. But, fays Dr. Johnson, suppose the philological decree made and "promulgated, what would be its authority? "In abfolute government there is fometimes 66 a general reverence paid to all that has "the fanction of power, the countenance "of greatness. How little this is the state "of our country needs not to be told. The "edicts of an English academy would pro bably be read by many, only that they 66 may be fure to difobey them. The pre"fent manners of the nation would deride "authority, and therefore nothing is left, "but that every writer fhould criticife him"felf." This furely is not conclufive. It is by the standard of the best writers that every man fettles for himfelf his plan of legitimate compofition; and fince the authority of fuperior genius is acknowledged, that authority, which the individual obtains, would not be leffened by an affociation with others of diftinguished ability. It may, therefore, be inferred, that an Academy of Literature would be an establishment highly useful, and an honour to Literature. In fuch an intitution profitable places would not be wanted, wanted. Vatis avarus haud facile eft animus; and the minifter, who fhall find leifure from party and faction to carry fuch a scheme into execution, will, in all probability, be respected by posterity as the Macenas of letters. We now take leave of Dr. Johnson as an author. Four volumes of his Lives of the Poets were publifhed in 1778, and the work was completed in 1781. Should Biography fall again into difufe, there will not always be a Johnson to look back through a century, and give a body of critical and moral inftruction. In April 1781, he loft his friend Mr. Thrale. His own words, in his diary, will beft tell that melancholy event. "On "Wednesday the 11th of April, was buried my dear friend Mr. Thrale, who died on Wednesday the 4th, and with him were "buried many of my hopes and pleasures. "About five, I think, on Wednesday morning he expired. I felt almoft the last flut ter of his pulfe, and looked for the last "time upon the face, that, for fifteen years "before, had never been turned upon me "but with refpect and benignity. Farewel: 64 may God, that delighteth in mercy, have "had "had mercy on thee! I had conftantly pray"ed for him before his death. The decease "of him, from whofe friendship I had ob tained many opportunities of amusement, "and to whom I turned my thoughts as to "a refuge from misfortunes, has left me "heavy. But my businefs is with myself.”— From the clofe of his laft work, the malady that perfecuted him through life came upon him with alarming feverity, and his conftitution declined apace. In 1782 his old friend Levet expired without warning, and without a groan. Events like these reminded Johnfon of his own mortality. He conti nued his vifits to Mrs. Thrale at Streatham, to the 7th day of October, 1782, when having firft compofed a prayer for the happiness of a family with whom he had for many years enjoyed the pleasures and comforts of life, he removed to his own houfe in town. He fays he was up early in the morning, and read fortuitoufly in the Gofpel, which was his parting ufe of the library. The merit of the family is manifefted by the fenfe he had of it, and we fee his heart overflowing with gratitude. He leaves the place with regret, and cafts a lingering look behind. The The few remaining occurrences may be foon dispatched. In the month of June, 1783, Johnson had a paralytic stroke, which affected his fpeech only. He wrote to Dr. Taylor of Westminster; and to his friend Mr. Allen, the printer, who lived at the next door. Dr. Brocklesby arrived in a short time, and by his care, and that of Dr. Heberden, Johnson foon recovered. During his illness the writer of this narrative vifited him, and found him reading Dr. Watson's Chemistry. Articulating with difficulty, he faid, "From this book, he who knows nothing may learn a great deal; and he who "knows, will be pleased to find his knowledge recalled to his mind in a manner 66 66 highly pleafing." In the month of August he fet out for Lichfield, on a vifit to Mrs. Lucy Porter, the daughter of his wife by her firft hufband; and in his way back paid his respects to Dr. Adams at Oxford. Mrs. Williams died at his houfe in Bolt-court in the month of September, during his abfence. This was another fhock to a mind like his, ever agitated by the thoughts of futurity. The contemplation of his own approaching end end was conftantly before his eyes; and the profpect of death, he declared, was terrible. For many years, when he was not difpofed to enter into the converfation going forward, whoever fat near his chair, might hear him repeating, from Shakspeare, Ay, but to die and go we know not where; And from Milton, Who would lose, For fear of pain, this intellectual being? By the death of Mrs. Williams he was left in a state of deftitution, with nobody but Frank, his black fervant, to footh his anxious moments. In November 1783, he was fwelled from head to foot with a dropfy. Dr. Brocklefby, with that benevolence with which he always affifts his friends, paid his vifits with affiduity. The medicines prefcribed were fo efficacious, that in a few days, Johnfon, while he was offering up his prayers, was |