“But, Sir,” quoth she, “I am in the wrong chair.” For it was on his own sick large arm chair, which was too heavy for her to move, that he had formally seated her; and it was away from the table.
“It is so difficult,” cried he, with quickness, “for any thing to be wrong that belongs to you, that it can only be I that am in the wrong chair to keep you from the right one!”
This playful good-humour was so reviving in shewing his recovery, that though Dr. Burney could not remain above ten minutes, his daughter, for whom he sent back his carriage, could with difficulty retire at the end of two hours. Dr. Johnson endeavoured most earnestly to engage her to stay and dine with him and Mrs. Williams; but that was not in her power; though so kindly was his heart opened by her true joy at his re-establishment, that he parted from her with a reluctance that was even, and to both, painful. Warm in its affections was the heart of this great and good man; his temper alone was in fault where it appeared to be otherwise.
When his recovery was confirmed, he accepted some few of the many invitations that were made to him, by various friends, to try at their dwellings, the air of the country. Dr. Burney mentioned to him, one evening, that he had heard that the first of these essays was to be made at the house of Mr. Bowles; and the Memorialist added, that she was extremely glad of that news, because, though she knew not Mr. Bowles, she had been informed that he had a true sense of this distinction, and was delighted by it beyond measure.
“He is so delighted,” said the Doctor, gravely, and almost with a sigh, “that it is really—shocking!”
“And why so, Sir?”
“Why?” he repeated, “because, necessarily, he must be disappointed! For if a man be expected to leap twenty yards, and should really leap ten, which would be so many more than ever were leapt before, still they would not be twenty; and consequently, Mr. Bowles, and Mr. every body else would be disappointed.”
MR. BEWLEY.
The grievous blight by the loss of Mrs. Thrale; and the irreparable blast by the death of Mr. Crisp, in the spring of 1783; followed, in the ensuing summer, by this alarming shake to the constitution and strength of Dr. Johnson; were now to be succeeded, in this same unhappy year, by a fearful and calamitous event, that made the falling leaves of its autumn corrosively sepulchral to Dr. Burney.