Johnson himself in as much contempt as his fortunate rival, and would
have regarded his alliance as equally disreputable with the
Italian's, could his consent have been asked."[1]
[Footnote 1: Lives of Men of Letters, &c, vol. ii.]
If the scene took place at all, it must have taken place within a few
days after the profession of satisfied and unaltered friendship
contained in Johnson's letter of November 13th. His next letter is to
Miss Thrale:
"Nov. 18th, 1783.
"Dear Miss,--Here is a whole week, and nothing heard from your house.
Baretti said what a wicked house it would be, and a wicked house it
is. Of you, however, I have no complaint to make, for I owe you a
letter. Still I live here by my own self, and have had of late very
bad nights; but then I have had a pig to dinner, which Mr. Perkins
gave me. Thus life is chequered."
On February 24th, 1784, Dr. Lort writes to Bishop Percy:
"Poor Dr. Johnson has had a very bad winter, attended by Heberden and
Brocklesby, who neither of them expected he would have survived the
frost: that being gone, he still remains, and I hope will now
continue, at least till the next severe one. It has indeed carried
off a great many old people."
Johnson to Mrs. Thrale:
"March 10th, 1784.
"Your kind expressions gave me great pleasure; do not reject me from
your thoughts. Shall we ever exchange confidence by the fireside
again?"
He was so absorbed with his own complaints as to make no allowance
for hers.
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