Mrs. Thrale mentioned a gentleman who had acquired a fortune of four thousand a year in trade, but was absolutely miserable, because he could not talk in company; so miserable, that he was impelled to lament his situation in the street to ——, whom he hates, and who he knows despises him.
'I am a most unhappy man (said he). I am invited to conversations. I go to conversations; but, alas! I have no conversation.'
JOHNSON. 'Man commonly cannot be successful in different ways. This gentleman has spent, in getting four thousand pounds a year, the time in which he might have learnt to talk; and now he cannot talk.'
Mr. Perkins made a shrewd and droll remark: 'If he had got his four thousand a year as a mountebank, he might have learnt to talk at the same time that he was getting his fortune.'
Some other gentlemen came in. The conversation concerning the person whose character Dr. Johnson had treated so slightingly, as he did not know his merit, was resumed. Mrs. Thrale said, 'You think so of him, Sir, because he is quiet, and does not exert himself with force. You'll be saying the same thing of Mr. —— there, who sits as quiet—.'
This was not well-bred; and Johnson did not let it pass without correction.
'Nay, Madam, what right have you to talk thus? Both Mr. —— and I have reason to take it ill. You may talk so of Mr. ——; but why do you make me do it. Have I said anything against Mr. ——? You have set him, that I might shoot him: but I have not shot him.'
One of the gentlemen said, he had seen three folio volumes of Dr. Johnson's sayings collected by me.
'I must put you right, Sir, (said I;) for I am very exact in authenticity. You could not see folio volumes, for I have none: you might have seen some in quarto and octavo. This is inattention which one should guard against.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is a want of concern about veracity. He does not know that he saw any volumes. If he had seen them he could have remembered their size.'
Mr. Thrale appeared very lethargick to-day. I saw him again on Monday evening, at which time he was not thought to be in immediate danger; but early in the morning of Wednesday, the 4th, he expired. Johnson was in the house, and thus mentions the event:
'I felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect and benignity.'
Upon that day there was a Call of the LITERARY CLUB; but Johnson apologised for his absence by the following note:—
'MR. JOHNSON knows that Sir Joshua Reynolds and the other gentlemen will excuse his incompliance with the call, when they are told that Mr. Thrale died this morning.'
Mr. Thrale's death was a very essential loss to Johnson, who, although he did not foresee all that afterwards happened, was sufficiently convinced that the comforts which Mr. Thrale's family afforded him, would now in a great measure cease. He, however continued to shew a kind attention to his widow and children as long as it was acceptable; and he took upon him, with a very earnest concern, the office of one of his executors, the importance of which seemed greater than usual to him, from his circumstances having been always such, that he had scarcely any share in the real business of life.
His friends of the CLUB were in hopes that Mr. Thrale might have made a liberal provision for him for his life, which, as Mr. Thrale left no son, and a very large fortune, it would have been highly to his honour to have done; and, considering Dr. Johnson's age, could not have been of long duration; but he bequeathed him only two hundred pounds, which was the legacy given to each of his executors.
I could not but be somewhat diverted by hearing Johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold.
Lord Lucan tells a very good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly characteristic: that when the sale of Thrale's brewery was going forward, Johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being asked what he really considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered,
'We are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats but the potentiality of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice.'
(classix comix™ is made possible in part through the continuing support of the Bob’s Bowery Bar Project for the Aid of Noble if Unremunerative Literary and Artistic Enterprises: “Just a reminder for our viewers who live in – or who may be coming for a visit to – the metropolitan area: Thursday nights are ‘poetry slam’ nights” at my favorite boîte Bob’s Bowery Bar, so all you aspiring bards are invited to come on down and participate, with a prize of a $25 Bob’s Bowery Bar gift card going to the night’s best poem. This week’s judges will be yours truly as usual, along with my good friend T.S. {“Tom the Bomb”} Eliot! The slam starts at 8pm sharp, but get there early to be sure to get your name on the list!”
– Horace P. Sternwall, host and narrator of Bob’s Bowery Bar Presents Philip Morris Commander’s “Blanche Weinberg: Lady Psychiatrist”, broadcast live 8pm Sundays {EST} exclusively on the Dumont Television Network. This week’s play: Paddy the Potty Poet, by Homobunus P. Sullivan, starring Kitty Carlisle as “Dr. Blanche”, with special guest Seamas McSeamas as “Paddy”.)
part 217
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