’To SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.

’DEAR SIR,

’It is inconvenient to me to come out, I should else have waited on you with an account of a little evening Club which we are establishing in Essex-street, in the Strand, and of which you are desired to be one.  It will be held at the Essex Head, now kept by an old servant of Thrale’s.  The company is numerous, and, as you will see by the list, miscellaneous.  The terms are lax, and the expences light.  Mr. Barry was adopted by Dr. Brocklesby, who joined with me in forming the plan.  We meet thrice a week, and he who misses forfeits two-pence[792].

’If you are willing to become a member, draw a line under your name.  Return the list.  We meet for the first time on Monday at eight.’

  ’I am, &c. 
     ‘SAM.  JOHNSON.’

‘Dec. 4, 1783.’

It did not suit Sir Joshua to be one of this Club.  But when I mention only Mr. Daines Barrington, Dr. Brocklesby, Mr. Murphy, Mr. John Nichols, Mr. Cooke, Mr. Joddrel, Mr. Paradise, Dr. Horsley, Mr. Windham[793], I shall sufficiently obviate the misrepresentation of it by Sir John Hawkins, as if it had been a low ale-house association, by which Johnson was degraded[794].  Johnson himself, like his namesake Old Ben[795], composed the Rules of his Club[796].

In the end of this year he was seized with a spasmodick asthma of such violence, that he was confined to the house in great pain, being sometimes obliged to sit all night in his chair, a recumbent posture being so hurtful to his respiration, that he could not endure lying in bed; and there came upon him at the same time that oppressive and fatal disease, a dropsy.  It was a very severe winter, which probably aggravated his complaints; and the solitude in which Mr. Levett and Mrs. Williams had left him, rendered his life very gloomy.  Mrs. Desmoulins[797], who still lived, was herself so very ill, that she could contribute very little to his relief[798].  He, however, had none of that unsocial shyness which we commonly see in people afflicted with sickness.  He did not hide his head from the world, in solitary abstraction; he did not deny himself to the visits of his friends and acquaintances; but at all times, when he was not overcome by sleep, was ready for conversation as in his best days[799].

’To MRS. LUCY PORTER, IN LICHFIELD.

’DEAR MADAM,

’You may perhaps think me negligent that I have not written to you again[800] upon the loss of your brother; but condolences and consolations are such common and such useless things, that the omission of them is no great crime:  and my own diseases occupy my mind, and engage my care.  My nights are miserably restless, and my days, therefore, are heavy.  I try, however, to hold up my head as high as I can[801].

’I am sorry that your health is impaired; perhaps the spring and the summer may, in some degree, restore it:  but if not, we must submit to the inconveniences of time, as to the other dispensations of Eternal Goodness.  Pray for me, and write to me, or let Mr. Pearson write for you.