On the same day he wrote to Mr. Langton:—
'I cannot but think that in my languid and anxious state, I have some reason to complain that I receive from you neither enquiry nor consolation. You know how much I value your friendship, and with what confidence I expect your kindness, if I wanted any act of tenderness that you could perform; at least, if you do not know it, I think your ignorance is your own fault. Yet how long is it that I have lived almost in your neighbourhood without the least notice.
I do not, however, consider this neglect as particularly shown to me; I hear two of your most valuable friends make the same complaint. But why are all thus overlooked? You are not oppressed by sickness, you are not distracted by business; if you are sick, you are sick of leisure:— And allow yourself to be told, that no disease is more to be dreaded or avoided. Rather to do nothing than to do good, is the lowest state of a degraded mind. Boileau says to his pupil,
“Que les vers ne soient pas votre éternel emploi, Cultivez vos amis.” {“Poetry should not be your eternal occupation; cultivate your friends.” – Editor}
'That voluntary debility, which modern language is content to term indolence, will, if it is not counteracted by resolution, render in time the strongest faculties lifeless, and turn the flame to the smoke of virtue.
'The journey of the first day was performed with very little sense of fatigue; the second day brought me to Lichfield, without much lassitude; but I am afraid that I could not have borne such violent agitation for many days together.
'Tell Dr. Heberden, that in the coach I read Ciceronianus which I concluded as I entered Lichfield. My affection and understanding went along with Erasmus, except that once or twice he somewhat unskilfully entangles Cicero's civil or moral, with his rhetorical, character.
'I staid five days at Lichfield, but, being unable to walk, had no great pleasure, and yesterday (19th) I came hither, where I am to try what air and attention can perform. Of any improvement in my health I cannot yet please myself with the perception.— The asthma has no abatement.
Opiates stop the fit, so as that I can sit and sometimes lie easy, but they do not now procure me the power of motion; and I am afraid that my general strength of body does not encrease. The weather indeed is not benign; but how low is he sunk whose strength depends upon the weather! I am now looking into Floyer who lived with his asthma to almost his ninetieth year. His book by want of order is obscure, and his asthma, I think, not of the same kind with mine. Something however I may perhaps learn.
'My appetite still continues keen enough; and what I consider as a symptom of radical health, I have a voracious delight in raw summer fruit, of which I was less eager a few years ago. You will be pleased to communicate this account to Dr. Heberden, and if any thing is to be done, let me have your joint opinion.'
July 31. 'Not recollecting that Dr. Heberden might be at Windsor, I thought your letter long in coming. But, you know, nocitura petuntur {“things that will do harm are prayed for” – Editor}, the letter which I so much desired, tells me that I have lost one of my best and tenderest friends {Mr. Allen, the printer – Editor}.
My comfort is, that he appeared to live like a man that had always before his eyes the fragility of our present existence, and was therefore, I hope, not unprepared to meet his judge. Your attention, dear Sir, and that of Dr. Heberden, to my health, is extremely kind. I am loth to think that I grow worse; and cannot fairly prove even to my own partiality, that I grow much better.'
August 5. 'I return you thanks, dear Sir, for your unwearied attention, both medicinal and friendly, and hope to prove the effect of your care by living to acknowledge it.'
August 12. 'Pray be so kind as to have me in your thoughts, and mention my case to others as you have opportunity. I seem to myself neither to gain nor lose strength. I have lately tried milk, but have yet found no advantage, and am afraid of it merely as a liquid. My appetite is still good, which I know is dear Dr. Heberden's criterion of the vis vitae {“vital force” – Editor}. As we cannot now see each other, do not omit to write, for you cannot think with what warmth of expectation I reckon the hours of a post-day.'
August 14. 'I have hitherto sent you only melancholy letters, you will be glad to hear some better account. Yesterday the asthma remitted, perceptibly remitted, and I moved with more ease than I have enjoyed for many weeks. May GOD continue his mercy. This account I would not delay, because I am not a lover of complaints, or complainers, and yet I have since we parted uttered nothing till now but terrour and sorrow. Write to me, dear Sir.'
August 16. 'Better I hope, and better. My respiration gets more and more ease and liberty. I went to church yesterday, after a very liberal dinner, without any inconvenience; it is indeed no long walk, but I never walked it without difficulty, since I came, before. The intention was only to overpower the seeming vis inertiae {“inertness” – Editor} of the pectoral and pulmonary muscles.
I am favoured with a degree of ease that very much delights me, and do not despair of another race upon the stairs of the Academy {Johnson had boasted that, at the most recent Academy dinner, he “went up all the stairs to the pictures without stopping to rest or to breathe”. – Editor}. If I were, however, of a humour to see, or to shew the state of my body, on the dark side, I might say,
"Quid te exempta juvat spinis de pluribus una?" {"Out of so many thorns, how does one extracted help you?" – Editor}
“The nights are still sleepless, and the water rises, though it does not rise very fast. Let us, however, rejoice in all the good that we have. The remission of one disease will enable nature to combat the rest. The squills I have not neglected; for I have taken more than a hundred drops a day, and one day took two hundred and fifty, which, according to the popular equivalence of a drop to a grain, is more than half an ounce. I thank you, dear Sir, for your attention in ordering the medicines; your attention to me has never failed. If the virtue of medicines could be enforced by the benevolence of the prescriber, how soon should I be well.'
(classix comix™ is made possible in part through the assistance of the Bob’s Bowery Bar Benevolent Fund: “I should like to remind our viewers that every Monday night until Labor day is ‘Open Mike Nite’ at my favorite stopping place, Bob’s Bowery Bar, and if you can’t make it down in person to Bleecker and the Bowery you can listen in on the Dumont Radio Network. Yours truly will be hosting the show, with musical accompaniment provided by my good friend Tony Winston on the Steinway upright. So if you’ve got a song to sing, some jokes to tell, or perhaps a classical oration to recite, come on down and get your name on the list. The show begins promptly at eight, and continues with only occasional commercial breaks for our sponsor Philip Morris until midnight. Sorry, only five minutes maximum for performances, so no epic poems or song cycles, please!”
– 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: “In a World Gone Mad the Sane Man is Doomed”, by Humphrey P. Stumpty, starring Kitty Carlisle as “Dr. Blanche”, with special guest star Jerry Colonna.)
part 271
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