his genius.

As a man, Dr. Johnson stands displayed in open daylight. 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 infirmities, 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, forming
plans of study and resolutions to amend his life[aa]. 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
affected by that disorder, for which, at two years of age, he was
presented to the royal touch. His head shook, and involuntary motions
made it uncertain that his legs and arms would, even at a tea-table,
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 Shakespeare, he took hold of
her hand, in the middle of dinner, and held it close to his eye,