'Certainly, (said the
Doctor;) but, (turning to me,) how old is your pig?' I told him, three
years old. 'Then, (said he,) the pig has no cause to complain; he would
have been killed the first year if he had not been _educated_, and
protracted existence is a good recompence for very considerable degrees
of torture[1153].'
As Johnson had now very faint hopes of recovery, and as Mrs. Thrale was
no longer devoted to him, it might have been supposed that he would
naturally have chosen to remain in the comfortable house of his beloved
wife's daughter, and end his life where he began it. But there was in
him an animated and lofty spirit[1154], and however complicated diseases
might depress ordinary mortals, all who saw him, beheld and acknowledged
the _invictum animum Catonis_[1155]. Such was his intellectual ardour
even at this time, that he said to one friend, 'Sir, I look upon every
day to be lost, in which I do not make a new acquaintance[1156];' and to
another, when talking of his illness, 'I will be conquered; I will not
capitulate[1157].' And such was his love of London, so high a relish
had he of its magnificent extent, and variety of intellectual
entertainment, that he languished when absent from it, his mind having
become quite luxurious from the long habit of enjoying the metropolis;
and, therefore, although at Lichfield, surrounded with friends, who
loved and revered him, and for whom he had a very sincere affection, he
still found that such conversation as London affords, could be found no
where else.
Pages:
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486