His general health was still tolerably good, save from occasional or
local sufferings; of which, however, he never spoke; bearing them with
such silent fortitude, that even the Memorialist only knew of them
through a correspondence which fell to her examination, that he had
held with a medical friend, Mr. Rumsey.
The height of his apartments, which were but just beneath the attic
of the tall and noble Chelsea College, had been an evil when he grew
into years, from the fatigue of mounting and descending; but from the
time of his dejected resolve to go forth no more, that height became a
blessing, from the greater purity of the air that he inhaled, and the
wider prospect that, from some of his windows, he surveyed.
To his bed-chamber, however, which he chiefly inhabited, this good did
not extend: its principal window faced the burying-ground in which the
remains of the second Mrs. Burney were interred; and that melancholy
sight was the first that every morning met his eyes. And, however his
strength of mind might ward off its depressing effect, while still he
went abroad, and mingled with the world; from the time that it became
his sole prospect, that no change of scene created a change of ideas,
must inevitably, however silently, have given a gloom to his mind, from
that of his position.
Not dense, perhaps, was that gloom to those who seldom lost sight of
him; but doubly, trebly was it afflicting to her who, without any
graduating interval, abruptly beheld it, in place of a sunshine that
had, erst, been the most radiant.
From the fatal period of the loss of the Duke of Portland, and of the
delicious retreat of the appropriated villa-residence of Bulstrode
Park, the Doctor had become inflexible to every invitation for quitting
his own dwelling. The surprise of the shock he had then sustained
from his disappointment in out-living a friend and patron so dear to
him, and so much younger than himself, had cast him into so forlorn
a turn of meditation, that even with the most intimate of his former
associates, all spontaneous intercourse was nearly cut off; he never,
indeed, refused their solicitations for admission, but rare was the
unbidden approach that was hailed with cheering smiles! Solitary
reading, and lonely contemplation, were all that, by custom, absorbed
the current day: except in moments of renovated animation from the
presence of some one of influence over his feelings; or upon the
arrival of national good tidings; or upon the starting of any political
theme that was flatteringly soothing to his own political principles
and creed.
In books, however, he had still the great happiness of retaining a
strong portion of his original pleasure: and the table that was placed
before his sofa, was commonly covered with chosen authors from his
excellent library: though latterly, when deep attention fatigued his
nerves, he interspersed his classical collection by works lighter of
entertainment, and quicker of comprehension, from the circulating
libraries.