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Sec. III.

to accufe them of withholding what in truth they cannot give. ie that has his foot firm upon dry ground may pluck another out of the water; but of thofe that are all afloat, none has any care but for himself.

We do not hear that the deanery is yet given away, and, though nothing is faid, I believe maen 15 ftill thought about it. Hope travels through

&c.

Í am, dearest of all dear ladies, your,

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Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Johnson. Dear Sir,

Streatham, June 14. AM glad you confefs yourfelf peevish, I for confeffion must precede amendment. Do not ludy to be more unhappy than you are, and if you can eat and fleep well, do not be frighted, for there can be no real danger. Are you acquainted with Dr. Lee, the Master of Baliol College? And are you not delighted with his gaiety of manners and youthful vivacity now that he is eightyfix years old? I never heard a more perfect or excellent pun than his, when fome one told him how in a late difpute among the Privy Counsellors, the Lord Chancellor ftruck the table with fuch violence that he fplit it: No, no, no, replied the Mafter dryly, I can hardly perfuade myfelf that he split the Table, though I believe he divided the Board. Will you fend me any thing better from Oxford than this? for there must be no more faftidiousness now; no more refufing to laugh at a good quibble, when you fo loudly profefs the want of amufement and the neceffity of diverfion. How the people of this age do cry for rattles is indeed little to its credit, for knowledge is diffufed moft certainly, if not increased, and that ought to land inftead of perpetual variety one would think. Apropos to general improvement: I was reading the Spectator to Sophy while my maid papered my curls yefter-morning, it was the 3d vol. 217. where the man complains of an indelicate miftrefs, who faid on fome occafion that her ftomach ached, and lamented how her teeth had got a feed ftuck between them.-The woman that drefied me was fo aftonished at this groffpels, though common enough in Addi

fon's time one fees, that he cried out, Well, Madam! furely that could never have been a lady who used expreffions like those.

I much wonder whether this refinement has spread all over the continent, or whether 'tis confined to our own ifland: when we were in France we could form little judgment, as our time was paffed chiefly among English; yet I recollect that one fine lady, who entertained us very splendidly, pat her mouth to the tea-pot, and blew in the spout when it did not pour freely. My maid Peggy would not have touched the tea after fuch an operation. Was it convenient, and agreeable, and wife, and fine, I fhould like to fee the world beyond fea very much;

But fate has faft bound her

With Styx nine times round her.

So your friend muft look on the waves at Brighthelmftone without breathing a wish to cross them.

Mean time let us be as merry as reading Burton upon Melancholy will make us. You bid me study that book in your abfence, and now, What have I found? Why, I have found, or fancied, that he has been cruelly plundered: that Milton's first idea of L'Allegro and II Penferofo were fuggefted by the verses at the beginning; that Savage's Speech of Suicide in the Wanderer, grew up out of a paffage you probably remember towards the 216th page; that Swift's Tale of the Woman that holds water in her mouth, to regain her husband's love by filence, had its fource in the fame farrago; and that there is an odd fimilitude between my Lord's trick upon Sly the Tinker, in Shakespear's Taming of the Shrew, and fome stuff I have been reading in Burton.

And now, dear Sir, be as comfortable as you can, and do not dun me for that kindnefs which has never been withheld, only becaufe it is cold weather and you want employment; but be gentle and tranquil like Dr. Adams, or gay and flathy like Dr. Lee, and then--what then? Why then you will deferve Mifs Adams's good will, and Miss More's efteem, added to the humble fervice and attentive regard of your ever equally faithful, &c.

Sir Richard aks after you with very tender care indeed: what would you have

of

is

us all that you cannot command? He among thofe who would do any thing in the world to oblige you.

LETTER LXVII.

Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale.
Dear Madam, London, May-day, 1783.

I AM glad that you went to Streatham,
though you could not fave the dear
pretty little girl. I loved her, for the
was Thrale's and your's, and by her dear
father's appointment in fome fort mine:
I love you all, and therefore cannot with-
out regret fee the phalanx broken, and
reflect that you and my other dear girls
are deprived of one that was born your
friend. To fuch friends, every one that
has them, has recourfe at last, when it is
difcovered, and difcovered it feldom fails
to be, that the fortuitous friendships of
inclination or vanity are at the mercy of a
thousand accidents. But we muft till
our difquiet with remembering that,
where there is no guilt, all is for the best.
I am glad to hear that Cecily is so near
recovery.

For fome days after your departure I was pretty well, but I have begun to languish again, and last night was very tedious and oppreffive. I excufed myfelf to-day from dining with General Paoli, where I love to dine, but I was griped by the talons of neceffity.

On Saturday I dined, as is ufual, at the opening of the Exhibition. Our company was fplendid, whether more numerous than at any former time I know not. Our tables feem always full. On Monday, if I am told truth, were received at the door one hundred and ninety pounds, for the admifiion of three thoufand eight hundred fpectators. Supposing the thew open ten hours, and the spectators ftaying one with another each an hour, the rooms never had fewer than three hundred and eighty juttling against each other. Poor Lowe met fome difcouragement, but 1 interpofed for him, and prevailed.

Mr. Barry's exhibition was opened the fame day, and a book is published to recommend it, which, if will find decorated with fome fatirical read it, you you pictures of Sir Johua Reynolds and others. I have not elcaped. You must

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however think with fome efteem of Bay for the comprehenfion of his defign. I am, Madam, your, &c.

I

LETTER LXVIII.

Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Jebafta.
Bath, June 151783.
BELIEVE it is too true, my dear St,

felf and your own health, but then they
that you think on little except your-
would think too-and that is a great con-
are fubjects on which every one c

folation.

thoughts upon myself, but there is nobody I am willing enough to employ all my here who wishes to think with or abo me, fo I am very fick and a little falla, and difpofed now and then to fay : king David, My lovers and my fried have been put away from me, and my s. quaintance bid out of my fight. If the hat letter I wrote fhewed fome degree of pl cid acquiefcence in a fituation, which, however difpleafing, is the best I can gt at juft now;-I pray God to keep me in that difpofition, and to lay no more criamity upon me which may again tempt me time affure yourself of my undiminished to murmur and complain. In the mean long out of accident's power either to l kindness and veneration: they have been fen or increase.

So Mr. Seward is going abroad again. the manner of expreffing it was likely I fee no harm in his refolution, though enough to offend you: yet he is not a with negligence of duty; he does more man whom any one can juftly reproach good than almoft any perfon of twice his fortune, and while he is looking at the works of Claude Loraine he will cer tainly be doing no mifchief.

dangerous race of mortals; for, preferThe profeffors of ennui are a very ring any occupation to none, they re lable to make many people unhappy by their officious affiduities, while to themfelves they ftand perfectly exculpated by the remark that a man must do jomething

fociety when like Seward they feek only or be killed with ennui: how fortunate for to give away their money all winter to in fummer to look at the Claude Loperions who want it, and go to Flanders raines.

What Mifs H

had fuffered before

Our

ir acquaintance began I know not. he now endures much from real, and ore from fancied illness. Her talents are ncommon for work, and the is a proof hat work will not fuffice to keep the imaination quiet. She feels like Pekuah, hat the mind will eafily fraggle from be fingers, and that mifery of heart canot be much jolaced by filken flowers.

Poor Dr. Lawrence and his fon are lead then: I am very forry; he was among the few parents I have known who preferred the virtue and happiness of their children to the delight of seeing them grow rich and fplendid; and you once told me, that one of his fons (I never heard which) was early bent on obtaining that opulence which is as feldom fought for by youth-Is it that boy who

is now dead?

That you should be folitary is a fad thing, and a strange one too, when every body is willing to drop in, and for a quarter of an hour at leaft, fave you from à tête à tête with yourfelf: I never could catch a moment when you were alone whilft we were in London, and Mifs Thrale fays the fame thing. It would have been a fine advantage indeed could fhe have feen Oxford now in your company; when we enjoyed it, fhe was too young to profit of the circumftance. 'Tis fo throughout the world I believe: nothing happens of good to us while we can fully ufe it: every tle felicity which does come, comes at a time when waiting for it has fpoiled our appetite

When youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone.

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Could I however flatter myfelf with the hopes of a fine clear evening after my various day, I would bear the afternoon ftorms better than I do-and who knows that it yet impoffible?

Farewell, dear Sir: had I health and fpirits as I used to have, I would write as I used to do; but I had then a husband and fons, and for a long time after I knew you, a mother fuch as no one ever had but me, and fuch as I fincerely with my daughters were likely to have in your truly faithful fervant.

I

LETTER LXIX.

Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrale.

Dear Madam,

Bolt-court, Fleet-ftreet, June 19, 1783.

AM fitting down in no cheerful folitude to write a narrative which would once have affected you with tenderness and forrow, but which you will perhaps pafs over now with the careless glance of frigid indifference. For this diminution of regard, however, I know not whether I ought to blame you, who may have reafons which I cannot know, and I do not blame myself, who have for a great part of human life done you what good I could, and have never done you evil.

I had been difordered in the ufual way, and had been relieved by the ufual methods, by opium and cathartics, but had rather leffened my dofe of opium.

On Monday the 16th I fat for my picture, and walked a confiderable way with little inconvenience. In the afternoon

and evening I felt myfelf light and easy, and began to plan fchemes of life. Thus

I went to bed, and in a short time waked and fat up, as has been long my cuftom, when I felt a confufion and indiftincnefs in my head, which lafted I fuppofe about half a minute; I was alarmed, and prayed God, that however he might afflict my body, he would fpare my understanding. This prayer, that I might try the integrity of my faculties, I made in Latin verfe. The lines were not very good, but I knew them not to be very good: I made them eafily, and concluded myself. to be unimpaired in my faculties.

Soon after I perceived that I had fuffered a paralytic ftroke, and that my speech was taken from me. I had no pain, and fo little dejection in this dreadful state, that I

wondered at my own apathy, and confidered that perhaps death itself when it fhould come would excite lefs horror than feems now to attend it.

In order to roufe the vocal organs I took two drams. Wine has been celebrated for the production of eloquence. I put myself into violent motion, and I think repeated it; but all was vain. I then went to bed, and ftrange as it may feem, I think, flept. When I faw light, it was time to contrive what I fhould do. Though God ftopped my fpeech, he left

me

me my hand; I enjoyed a mercy which was not granted to my dear friend Lawrence, who now perhaps overlooks me as I am writing, and rejoices that I have what he wanted. My firit note was neceffarily to my fervant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why he fhould read what I put into his hands.

I then wrote a card to Mr. Allen, that I might have a difcreet friend at hand to act as occafion fhould require. In penning this note I had fome difficulty; my hand, I knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. I then wrote to Dr. Taylor to come to me, and bring Dr. Heberden, and I fent to Dr. Brocklefby, who is my neighbour. My phyficians are very friendly and very difinterested, and give me great hopes, but you may imagine my fituation. I have fo far recovered my vocal powers, as to repeat the Lord's Prayer with no very imperfect articulation. My memory, I hope, yet remains as it was; but fuch an attack produces folicitude for the fafety of every faculty.

How this will be received by you I know not. I hope you will fympathife with me; but perhaps

My miftrefs, gracious, mild, and good,
Cries, Is he dumb? 'Tis time he thou'd.

But can this be poffible? I hope it cannot. I hope that what, when I could fpeak, I spoke of you, and to you, will be in a fober and ferious hour remembered by you; and furely it cannot be remembered but with fome degree of kindness. I have loved you with virtuous affection; I have honoured you with fincere efteem. Let not all our endearments be forgotten, but let me have in this great diftrels your pity and your prayers. You fee I yet turn to you with my complaints as a a fettled and unalienable friend; do not, do not drive me from you, for I have not deferved either neglect or hatred.

To the girls, who do not write often, for Sufy has written only once, and Mifs Thrale owes me a letter, I earnestly recommend, as their guardian and friend, that they remember their Creator in the days of their youth.

I fuppofe you may wish to know how my difcafe is treated by the phyficians. They put a blifler upon my back, and two from my ear to my throat, one on a fide. The bater on the back has done

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little, and thofe on the throat have not fen. I bullied and bounced (it ficks our last fand), and compelled the apothe cary to make his falve according to the Edinburgh Difpenfatory, that it migh adhere better. I have two on now of ny own prefcription. They likewife give me falt of hartfhorn, which I take with no great confidence, but am satisfied that what can be done is done for me.

O God! give me comfort and coné dence in Thee: forgive my fins; and it be thy good pleature, relieve my cafes for Jefus Christ's fake. Amen.

I am almost ashamed of this querului letter, but now it is written, let it go. 1

am, &c.

LETTER LXX.

Dr. Johnson to Mrs. Thrak.
Dear Madam, Londen, July 3,

R. Brocklesby yesterday difmited

DR.

cantharides, and I can now frd. foft place upon my pillow. Latg was cool, and I refted well, and th morning I have been a friend at a predifficulty. Here is now a glimple of t light again; but how near is the event —none can tell, and I will not prog cate; we all know that from none of can be far diftant; may none of us know this in vain!

I went, as I took care to brak, m Tuesday, to the club, and hear that ↑ was thought to have performed as wil ufual. I dined on fish, with the wing d a fmall Turkey chick, and left road bik goofe, and venifon pye untouched live much on peas, and never had t fo good, for fo long a time, in any yer that I can remember.

When do you go to Weymouth? why do you go? only I fuppofe to a te place, and the reafon is fufficient to the who have no reason to withhold them

* knows well enough how br on four hundred a year, but where to have it? Had own unfettled? any thing of

I am glad that Mrs. Sheward talks me, and loves me, and have in this fcene of life great comfort in refeting that I have given very few reafon to ha me; I hope fcarcely any man has Kr7%7 me clofely but for his benefit, or com rily but to his innocent entertainers

Tell me, you that know me beft, whether this be true, that according to your anfwer I may continue my practice, or try to mend it.

Along with your kind letter yefterday came one likewife very kind from the Aftons at Lichfield; but I do not know whether, as the fummer is fo far advanced, I fhall travel so far, though I am

not without hopes that frequent change of air may fortify me against the winter, which has been, in modern phrafe, of late years very inimical to, Madam,

your, &c.

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Dr. Johnfon to Mifs Sufanna Thrale.
Dearest Mifs Sufy,

WHEN you favoured me with your let-
ter, you feemed to be in want of
materials to fill it, having met with no
great adventures either of peril or delight,
nor done or fuffered any thing out of the

common courfe of life.

When you have lived longer, and confidered more, you will find the common courfe of life very fertile of obfervation and reflection. Upon the common course of life muft our thoughts and our converation be generally employed. Our ge

heral courfe of life muft denominate us

evening; and any letters from you, my deareft, will be welcome to, your, &c.

LETTER LXXII.

Dr. Johnson to Mifs Sophia Thrale.

London, Dearest Mifs Sophy, July 24, 1783.

BY an abfence from home, and for one reafon and another, I owe a great number of letters, and I affure you that I fit down to write your's firft. Why you fhould think yourfelf not a favourite, I cannot guefs; my favour will, I am afraid, never be worth much; but be its value more or lefs, you are never likely to lofe it, and lefs likely if you continue your ftudies with the fame diligence as you have begun them.

Your proficience in arithmetic is not only to be commended, but admired. Your mafter does not, I fuppofe, come very often, nor flay very long; yet your advance in the fcience of numbers is greater than is commonly made by thofe who, for fo many weeks as you have been learning, fpend fix hours a day in the writing fchool.

Never think, my fweet, that you have arithmetic enough; when you have exthing amufes more harmlessly than comhausted your matter, buy books. Novife or foolish; happy or miferable: if putation, and nothing is oftener applicat is well regulated we pafs on profper-ble to real bufinefs or fpeculative inquiufly and fmoothly; as it is neglected ries. A thousand ftories which the igve live in embarrafinent, perplexity, norant tell, and believe, die away at once, when the computit takes them in his gripe. I hope you will cultivate in yourself a difpofition to numerical inquiries; they will give you entertainment in folitude by the practice, and reputation in public by the effect.

ind uneafinefs.

Your time, my love, paffes, I fupofe, in devotion, reading, work, and comany. Of your devotions, in which I arneilly advife you to be very punctual, You may not perhaps think it proper to give me an account; and of work, unless understood it better, it will be of no great ufe to fay much; but books and ompany will always fupply you with maerials for your letters to me, as I fhall Iways be pleafed to know what you are eading, and with what you are pleafed; nd fall take great delight in knowing hat impreffion new modes or new cha acters make upon you, and to obferve with what attention you diftinguish the empers, difpofitions, and abilities of your ompanions.

A letter may be always made out of the ooks of the morning or talk of the

If you can borrow Wilkins's Real Character, a folio, which the bookfeller can perhaps let you have, you will have a very curious calculation, which you are qualified to confider, to fhew that Noah's ark was capable of holding all the known animals of the world, with provifion for all the time in which the earth was under water. Let me hear from you foon again. I am, Madam, your, &c.

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