On Wednesday, May 5, 1784—­the last year of Dr. Johnson’s life—­I arrived in London for my spring visit; and next morning I had the pleasure to find him greatly recovered.  But I was in his company frequently and particularly remember the fine spirits he was in one evening at our Essex Head Club.  He praised Mr. Burke’s constant stream of conversation, saying, “Yes, sir; if a man were to go by chance at the same time with Burke under a shed, to shun a shower, he would say, ’This is an extraordinary man.’”

He had now a great desire to go to Oxford, as his first jaunt after his illness; we talked of it for some days, and on June 3 the Oxford post-coach took us up at Bolt Court, and we spent an agreeable fortnight with Dr. Adams at Pembroke College.

The anxiety of his friends to preserve so estimable a life made them plan for him a retreat from the severity of a British winter to the mild climate of Italy; and, after consulting with Sir Joshua Reynolds, I wrote to Lord Thurlow, the Lord Chancellor, for such an addition to Johnson’s income as would enable him to bear the expense.

Lord Thurlow, who highly valued Johnson, and whom Johnson highly valued, at first made a very favourable reply, which being communicated to Dr. Johnson, greatly affected him; but eventually he had to confess that his application had been unsuccessful, and made a counter proposal, very gratefully refused by Johnson, that he should draw upon him to the amount of L500 or L600.

On Wednesday, June 30, I dined with him, for the last time, at Sir Joshua Reynolds’s, no other company being present; and on July 2 I left London for Scotland.

Soon afterwards he had the mortification of being informed by Mrs. Thrale that she was actually going to marry Signor Piozzi, a papist, and her daughter’s music-master.  He endeavoured to prevent the marriage, but in vain.

Eleven days after I myself had left town, Johnson set out on a jaunt to Staffordshire and Derbyshire, flattering himself that he might be, in some degree, relieved; but towards the end of October he had to confess that his progress was slight.  But there was in him an animated and lofty spirit, and such was his love of London that he languished when absent from it.  To Dr. Brocklesby he wrote:  “I am not afraid either of a journey to London, or of a residence in it.  The town is my element; there are my friends, there are my books, to which I have not yet bid farewell, and there are my amusements.  Sir Joshua told me long ago that my vocation was to public life, and I hope still to keep my station, till God shall bid me ‘Go in peace.’”