Being under the impression that his friend was perfectly well, Dr. Smith
soon discontinued his visits, and, not being called upon, never saw him
again. But just at this time the poet's condition got rapidly worse, and
the first tokens of insanity began to show themselves. Morbidly occupied
with one set of thoughts, he had now lost the consciousness of his own
identity, and addressed his wife and children as strangers. When the
former first heard her husband speaking of 'John Clare' as a third
person, she became terribly frightened; but thinking he might recover
from his mental aberration by being carefully nursed and kept as quiet as
possible, she resolved to do her own duty independent of the world. She
was successful, to some extent; for after a while the clouds began, to
disappear, and the poet again spoke in a rational manner. He seemed to
feel as if awakening from a heavy, oppressive dream; his thoughts
perfectly clear, yet with a conscious remembrance that his reason had
been disturbed, and an infinite dread that the same calamity might happen
again. Full of this apprehension, and in terrible anxiety to shield
himself against the coming danger, he resolved to consult his friend, Mr.
John Taylor, from whom he had not heard for a long time. He wrote a first
note at the beginning of July, 1834; but, not getting an immediate reply,
despatched a second letter. It ran:--
'_Northborough, July 10, 1834_.
My Dear Taylor,--I am in such a state that I cannot help feeling some
alarm that I may be as I have been. You must excuse my writing; but I
feel if I do not write now I shall not be able. What I wish is to get
under Dr. Darling's advice, or to have his advice to go somewhere; for I
have not been from home this twelvemonth, and cannot get anywhere. Yet I
know if I could reach London I should be better, or else get to salt
water. Whatever Dr. Darling advises I will do if I can.
Mrs. Emmerson, I think, has forsaken me. I do not feel neglect now as I
have done: I feel only very anxious to get better. I cannot describe my
feelings; perhaps in a day or two I shall not be able to do anything, or
get anywhere. Write, dear Taylor, and believe me.