Boswell’s Life of Johnson: 245

Edited by Dan Leo, Assistant Professor of Antiquarian Studies, Olney Community College; author of Bozzie and Dr. Sam: Mrs. Williams’s Last Request, the Olney Community College Press.

Art direction by rhoda penmarq (layout, pencils, inks, spray paints by eddie el greco; lettering by roy dismas) for penmarqansas™ productions.

to begin at the beginning, click here

for previous chapter, click here

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. DEAR SIR, Your anxiety about my health is very friendly, and very agreeable with your general kindness. I have, indeed, had a very frightful blow. On the 17th of last month, about three in the morning, as near as I can guess, I perceived myself almost totally deprived of speech. I had no pain. My organs were so obstructed, that I could say no, but could scarcely say yes. I wrote the necessary directions, for it pleased GOD to spare my hand, and sent for Dr. Heberden and Dr. Brocklesby. Between the time in which I discovered my own disorder, and that in which I sent for the doctors, I had, I believe, in spite of my surprize and solicitude, a little sleep, and Nature began to renew its operations. They came, and gave the directions which the disease required, and from that time I have been continually improving in articulation. I can now speak, but the nerves are weak, and I cannot continue discourse long; but strength, I hope, will return. The physicians consider me as cured.  I was last Sunday at church. On Tuesday I took an airing to Hampstead, and dined with THE CLUB, where Lord Palmerston was proposed, and, against my opinion, was rejected. I designed to go next week with Mr. Langton to Rochester, where I purpose to stay about ten days, and then try some other air. I have many kind invitations. Your brother has very frequently enquired after me. Most of my friends have, indeed, been very attentive. Thank dear Lord Hailes for his present. I hope you found at your return every thing gay and prosperous, and your lady, in particular, quite recovered and confirmed. Pay her my respects.  I am, dear Sir,  Your most humble servant,  SAM. JOHNSON.  London, July 3, 1783.' 'To MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD.  DEAR MADAM, The account which you give of your health is but melancholy. May it please GOD to restore you.  My disease affected my speech, and still continues, in some degree, to obstruct my utterance; my voice is distinct enough for a while; but the organs being still weak are quickly weary: but in other respects I am, I think, rather better than I have lately been; and can let you know my state without the help of any other hand.  In the opinion of my friends, and in my own, I am gradually mending. The Physicians consider me as cured; and I had leave, four days ago, to wash the cantharides from my head. {Cantharides: popularly known as “Spanish fly”, a fatty substance secreted by certain blister beetles used at that time not only as an aphrodisiac but as a topical medication. – Editor}. I am going next week into Kent, and purpose to change the air frequently this summer; whether I shall wander so far as Staffordshire I cannot tell. I should be glad to come. Return my thanks to Mrs. Cobb, and Mr. Pearson, and all that have shewn attention to me. Let us, my dear, pray for one another, and consider our sufferings as notices mercifully given us to prepare ourselves for another state. I live now but in a melancholy way. My old friend Mr. Levett is dead, who lived with me in the house, and was useful and companionable; Mrs. Desmoulins is gone away; and Mrs. Williams is so much decayed, that she can add little to another's gratifications. The world passes away, and we are passing with it; but there is, doubtless, another world, which will endure for ever. Let us all fit ourselves for it. I am, &c.,  SAM. JOHNSON.  London, July 5, 1783.' Such was the general vigour of his constitution, that he recovered from this alarming and severe attack with wonderful quickness; so that in July he was able to make a visit to Mr. Langton at Rochester, where he passed about a fortnight, and made little excursions as easily as at any time of his life. In August he went as far as the neighbourhood of Salisbury, to Heale, the seat of William Bowles, Esq., a gentleman whom I have heard him praise for exemplary religious order in his family. In his diary I find a short but honourable mention of this visit: 'August 28, I came to Heale without fatigue. 30. I am entertained quite to my mind.' 'To DR. BROCKLESBY. Heale, near Salisbury, Aug. 29, 1783.  DEAR SIR, Without appearing to want a just sense of your kind attention, I cannot omit to give an account of the day which seemed to appear in some sort perilous. I rose at five and went out at six, and having reached Salisbury about nine, went forward a few miles in my friend's chariot. I was no more wearied with the journey, though it was a high-hung, rough coach, than I should have been forty years ago. We shall now see what air will do. The country is all a plain; and the house in which I am, so far as I can judge from my window, for I write before I have left my chamber, is sufficiently pleasant.  Be so kind as to continue your attention to Mrs. Williams; it is great consolation to the well, and still greater to the sick, that they find themselves not neglected; and I know that you will be desirous of giving comfort even where you have no great hope of giving help. I am, &c.  SAM. JOHNSON.'   While he was here he had a letter from Dr. Brocklesby, acquainting him of the death of Mrs. Williams, which affected him a good deal. Though for several years her temper had not been complacent, she had valuable qualities, and her departure left a blank in his house. Upon this occasion he, according to his habitual course of piety, composed a prayer. I shall here insert a few particulars concerning him, with which I have been favoured by one of his friends. 'He had once conceived the design of writing the Life of Oliver Cromwell, saying, that he thought it must be highly curious to trace his extraordinary rise to the supreme power, from so obscure a beginning. He at length laid aside his scheme, on discovering that all that can be told of him is already in print; and that it is impracticable to procure any authentick information in addition to what the world is already possessed of.' . k= 'He had likewise projected, but at what part of his life is not known, a work to shew how small a quantity of REAL FICTION there is in the world; and that the same images, with very little variation, have served all the authours who have ever written.' 'His thoughts in the latter part of his life were frequently employed on his deceased friends. He often muttered these, or such like sentences: "Poor man! and then he died."' 'Speaking of a certain literary friend, "He is a very pompous puzzling fellow, (said he); he lent me a letter once that somebody had written to him, no matter what it was about; but he wanted to have the letter back, and expressed a mighty value for it; he hoped it was to be met with again, he would not lose it for a thousand pounds. I layed my hand upon it soon afterwards, and gave it him. I believe I said, I was very glad to have met with it. O, then he did not know that it signified any thing. So you see, when the letter was lost it was worth a thousand pounds, and when it was found it was not worth a farthing."' (classix comix™ is underwritten in part by the Bob’s Bowery Bar Foundation for Hopelessly Uncommercial Arts and Letters: “Another grey and cold winter’s day, with the cheer and bonhomie of ‘the holidays’ long gone, and the last withered fire hazard of a Christmas tree thrown unceremoniously onto the frozen sidewalk – yes, even the cheeriest soul can fall victim these days to what what I believe is now called Seasonal Affective Disorder, or, as it was known when I was a lad, the plain old winter doldrums. Might I suggest as an antidote to thoughts of self-slaughter a visit to my favorite public house – indeed some have called it ‘Horace’s living room’, ha ha – Bob’s Bowery Bar? If you are a first-time visitor, simply say, ‘Horace sent me,’ and receive your first drink on the house, free, gratis and for nothing. Offer includes domestic beers and wines and ‘well’ drinks only – and, sorry, no doubles!” – 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: “Requiem for a Rumdum”, by Horst P. Schwarzberger, starring Kitty Carlisle as “Dr. Blanche”, and guest-starring Frank Fontaine as “Robbie the Rummy”.)  part 246

moby dick

adapted from the book by herman melville

illustrations by roy dismas

Boswell’s Life of Johnson: 244

Edited by Dan Leo, Associate Professor of 18th Century British Arts and Letters, Olney Community College; author of Bozzie and Dr. Sam: The Bawd from Battersea’s Bequest, the Olney Community College Press.

Artwork personally supervised by rhoda penmarq (layout, pencils, inks, computer-generated colorization by eddie el greco; lettering by roy dismas) for penmarqorgasmiq™ productions.

to begin at the beginning, click here

for previous chapter, click here

To THE RIGHT HONOURABLE WILLIAM WINDHAM.  Sir, The bringer of this letter is the father of Miss Philips, a singer, who comes to try her voice on the stage at Dublin.  Mr. Philips is one of my old friends; and as I am of opinion that neither he nor his daughter will do any thing that can disgrace their benefactors, I take the liberty of entreating you to countenance and protect them so far as may be suitable to your station and character {Windham was Secretary to the Earl of Northington, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. – Editor} ; and shall consider myself as obliged by any favourable notice which they shall have the honour of receiving from you. I am, Sir,  Your most humble servant, SAM JOHNSON. London, May 31, 1783.' The following is another instance of his active benevolence:—  'To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.  DEAR SIR, I have sent you some of my god-son's performances, of which I do not pretend to form any opinion. When I took the liberty of mentioning him to you, I did not know what I have since been told, that Mr. Moser had admitted him among the Students of the Academy. What more can be done for him I earnestly entreat you to consider; for I am very desirous that he should derive some advantage from my connection with him. If you are inclined to see him, I will bring him to wait on you, at any time that you shall be pleased to appoint.  I am, Sir, Your most humble servant,  SAM. JOHNSON. June 2, 1783.' My anxious apprehensions at parting with him this year proved to be but too well founded; for not long afterwards he had a dreadful stroke of the palsy, of which there are very full and accurate accounts in letters written by himself, to shew with what composure of mind, and resignation to the Divine Will, his steady piety enabled him to behave. 'TO MR. EDMUND ALLEN.  DEAR SIR, It has pleased GOD, this morning, to deprive me of the powers of speech; and as I do not know but that it may be his further good pleasure to deprive me soon of my senses, I request you will on the receipt of this note, come to me, and act for me, as the exigencies of my case may require. I am,  Sincerely yours,  SAM. JOHNSON. June 17, 1783.' 'TO THE REVEREND DR. JOHN TAYLOR. 'DEAR SIR,  It has pleased GOD, by a Paralytick stroke in the night, to deprive me of speech.  I am very desirous of Dr. Heberden's assistance, as I think my case is not past remedy. Let me see you as soon as it is possible. Bring Dr. Heberden with you, if you can; but come yourself at all events. I am glad you are so well, when I am so dreadfully attacked.  I think that by a speedy application of stimulants much may be done. I question if a vomit, vigorous and rough, would not rouse the organs of speech to action. As it is too early to send, I will try to recollect what I can, that can be suspected to have brought on this dreadful distress.  I have been accustomed to bleed frequently for an asthmatick complaint; but have forborne for some time by Dr. Pepys's persuasion, who perceived my legs beginning to swell. I sometimes alleviate a painful, or more properly an oppressive, constriction of my chest, by opiates; and have lately taken opium frequently, but the last, or two last times, in smaller quantities. My largest dose is three grains, and last night I took but two. You will suggest these things (and they are all that I can call to mind) to Dr. Heberden. I am, &c. SAM. JOHNSON. June 17, 1783.' Two days after he wrote thus to Mrs. Thrale:— 'On Monday, the 16th, I sat for my picture {Painted by Frances Reynolds, youngest sister of Joshua Reynolds; Johnson referred to the painting as his “grimly ghost”. – Editor}, and walked a considerable way with little inconvenience. In the afternoon and evening I felt myself light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. Thus I went to bed, and in a short time waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, when I felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, I suppose, about half a minute. I was alarmed, and prayed God, that however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding. This prayer, that I might try the integrity of my faculties, I made in Latin verse. The lines were not very good, but I knew them not to be very good: I made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired in my faculties. Soon after I perceived that I had suffered a paralytick stroke, and that my speech was taken from me. I had no pain, and so little dejection in this dreadful state, that I wondered at my own apathy, and considered that perhaps death itself, when it should come, would excite less horrour than seems now to attend it. In order to rouse 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 strange as it may seem, I think slept. When I saw light, it was time to contrive what I should do. Though God stopped my speech, he left me my hand. My first note was necessarily to my servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why he should read what I put into his hands. I then wrote a card to Mr. Allen, that I might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion should require. In penning this note, I had some 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 sent to Dr. Brocklesby, who is my neighbour. My physicians are very friendly, and give me great hopes; but you may imagine my situation. I have so 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 such an attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty.' 'To MR. THOMAS DAVIES.  'DEAR SIR, I have had, indeed, a very heavy blow; but GOD, who yet spares my life, I humbly hope will spare my understanding, and restore my speech. As I am not at all helpless, I want no particular assistance, but am strongly affected by Mrs. Davies's tenderness; and when I think she can do me good, shall be very glad to call upon her. I had ordered friends to be shut out; but one or two have found the way in; and if you come you shall be admitted: for I know not whom I can see, that will bring more amusement on his tongue, or more kindness in his heart. I am, &c.  SAM. JOHNSON. June 18, 1783.' It gives me great pleasure to preserve such a memorial of Johnson's regard for Mr. Davies, to whom I was indebted for my introduction to him. He indeed loved Davies cordially, of which I shall give the following little evidence. One day when he had treated him with too much asperity, Tom, who was not without pride and spirit, went off in a passion; but he had hardly reached home, when Frank, who had been sent after him, delivered this note:—'Come, come, dear Davies, I am always sorry when we quarrel; send me word that we are friends.' (classix comix™ is brought to you by Bob’s Bowery Bar, conveniently located at the northwest corner of Bleecker and the Bowery: “Gee, the weatherman predicts a bitter winter storm’s a-comin’, so if your ‘pad’ is as badly-insulated as mine is, why not go to where the toasty temperature on the Fahrenheit scale is equaled by the human warmth of its management, staff and patrons – yes, I speak of my favorite ‘hang’, Bob’s Bowery Bar! Warm up your insides with a big steaming bowl of this week’s blue-plate special: Bob’s Hellfire Chili, a five-alarm mélange of slow-simmered black beans ‘n’  beef served with your choice of fresh-from-the-box Uneeda Biscuits or Sailor Boy hardtack. At only a buck a bowl, I say: ‘Bring on the heat!’” – 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 presentation: “The Billionaire Beatnik”, by Humphrey P. Stagger-Lee, starring Kitty Carlisle as “Dr. Blanche”, and guest-starring William S. Burroughs as “Big Daddy Bill”.)  part 245

Boswell’s Life of Johnson: 243

Edited by Dan Leo, Assistant Professor of 18th Century British Oratorical Studies, Olney Community College; author of Bozzie and Dr. Sam: Miss Burney’s Request, the Olney Community College Press.

Art direction by rhoda penmarq (layout, pencils, inks, copperplate etchings by eddie el greco; lettering by roy dismas ) for penmarqoqomix™ productions.

to begin at the beginning, click here

for previous chapter, click here

On Saturday, May 17, I saw him for a short time. Having mentioned that I had that morning been with old Mr. Sheridan {Thomas Sheridan, father of the playwright Richard Brinsley Sheridan. – Editor}, he remembered their former intimacy with a cordial warmth, and said to me, 'Tell Mr. Sheridan, I shall be glad to see him, and shake hands with him.'  BOSWELL. 'It is to me very wonderful that resentment should be kept up so long.'  JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is not altogether resentment that he does not visit me; it is partly falling out of the habit,— partly disgust, as one has at a drug that has made him sick. Besides, he knows that I laugh at his oratory.' {Johnson had been quoted as saying, 'Sheridan's writings on elocution were a continual renovation of hope, and an unvaried succession of disappointments.' – Editor} Another day I spoke of one of our friends, of whom he, as well as I, had a very high opinion. He expatiated in his praise; but added, 'Sir, he is a cursed Whig, a bottomless Whig, as they all are now.' I mentioned my expectations from the interest of an eminent person then in power; adding, 'but I have no claim but the claim of friendship; however, some people will go a great way from that motive.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, they will go all the way from that motive.'   A gentleman talked of retiring.  'Never think of that,' said Johnson.  The gentleman urged, 'I should then do no ill.'  JOHNSON. 'Nor no good either.' On Monday, May 26, I found him at tea, and the celebrated Miss Burney {Fanny Burney, a young and popular novelist of the day – Editor}, the authour of Evelina and Cecilia, with him.  I asked if there would be any speakers in Parliament, if there were no places to be obtained.  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir. Why do you speak here? Either to instruct and entertain, which is a benevolent motive; or for distinction, which is a selfish motive.'  I mentioned Cecilia.  JOHNSON. (with an air of animated satisfaction) 'Sir, if you talk of Cecilia, talk on.' I asked whether a man naturally virtuous, or one who has overcome wicked inclinations, is the best.  JOHNSON. 'Sir, to you, the man who has overcome wicked inclinations is not the best. He has more merit to himself: I would rather trust my money to a man who has no hands, and so a physical impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest principles. There is a witty satirical story of Foote. He had a small bust of Garrick placed upon his bureau, "You may be surprized (said he) that I allow him to be so near my gold;— but you will observe he has no hands."' On Friday, May 29, being to set out for Scotland next morning, I passed a part of the day with him in more than usual earnestness; as his health was in a more precarious state than at any time when I had parted from him. He, however, was quick and lively, and critical as usual. I mentioned one who was a very learned man.  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, he has a great deal of learning; but it never lies straight. There is never one idea by the side of another; 'tis all entangled: and then he drives it so aukwardly upon conversation.' I stated to him an anxious thought, by which a sincere Christian might be disturbed, even when conscious of having lived a good life, so far as is consistent with human infirmity; he might fear that he should afterwards fall away, and be guilty of such crimes as would render all his former religion vain. Could there be, upon this aweful subject, such a thing as balancing of accounts? Suppose a man who has led a good life for seven years, commits an act of wickedness, and instantly dies; will his former good life have any effect in his favour?  JOHNSON. 'Sir, if a man has led a good life for seven years, and then is hurried by passion to do what is wrong, and is suddenly carried off, depend upon it he will have the reward of his seven years' good life; GOD will not take a catch of him. Upon this principle Richard Baxter believes that a Suicide may be saved. "If, (says he) it should be objected that what I maintain may encourage suicide, I answer, I am not to tell a lie to prevent it."'  BOSWELL. 'But does not the text say, "As the tree falls, so it must lie?"'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir; as the tree falls: but,—( after a little pause)— that is meant as to the general state of the tree, not what is the effect of a sudden blast.'  In short, he interpreted the expression as referring to condition, not to position. The common notion, therefore, seems to be erroneous; and Shenstone's witty remark on Divines trying to give the tree a jerk upon a death-bed, to make it lie favourably, is not well founded. He said, 'Get as much force of mind as you can. Live within your income. Always have something saved at the end of the year. Let your imports be more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong.' I assured him, that in the extensive and various range of his acquaintance there never had been any one who had a more sincere respect and affection for him than I had.  He said, 'I believe it, Sir. Were I in distress, there is no man to whom I should sooner come than to you. I should like to come and have a cottage in your park, toddle about, live mostly on milk, and be taken care of by Mrs. Boswell. She and I are good friends now; are we not?' Talking of devotion, he said, 'Though it be true that "GOD dwelleth not in temples made with hands," yet in this state of being, our minds are more piously affected in places appropriated to divine worship, than in others. Some people have a particular room in their house, where they say their prayers; of which I do not disapprove, as it may animate their devotion.' He embraced me, and gave me his blessing, as usual when I was leaving him for any length of time. I walked from his door to-day, with a fearful apprehension of what might happen before I returned. (classix comix™ is made possible in part through the generous support of the Bob’s Bowery Bar Foundation for the Unremunerative Arts: “Yes, brrr – say, it’s really getting frigid out there! If the heat in your ‘pad’ is (like mine) seemingly stuck permanently in the low 50s Fahrenheit, why not follow my lead and enjoy the warmth – yes, physical but also spiritual – of Bob’s Bowery Bar? And, à propos, allow me to recommend Bob’s famous ‘hot spiced grog’, a delightful concoction of aged Royal Navy Rum, lapsang souchong tea, Bob’s Mom’s home-grown botanicals, jaggery, and crystallized ginger, served steaming in a pint-sized pewter mug! Bet you can’t drink just one!” – 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: “Love Song of the Bowery”, by Henry P. Shortfellow, starring Kitty Carlisle as “Dr. Blanche”, with special guest stars Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy.)   part 244