Volume 1

Biographic clinics / by George M. Gould.

  • George M. Gould
Date:
1903-
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: Biographic clinics / by George M. Gould. Source: Wellcome Collection.

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    had given him; ” he went to work again on the lost volume, but became so sick that he still made little progress. He managed to complete the volume, locked it up, felt “ like a man who had nearly killed himself in accomplishing zero,” and went to Scotsbrig, where he talked and smoked and “ walked far and fast among the hills.” “ Health is greatly improved since I got hither. Alas! the state of wreckage I was in, fretted to fiddle-strings, was enormous. Even yet after a month’s idleness, and much recovery, I feel it all so well.” (40.) Even at Scotsbrig “ a little overwork hurts me, and is found on the morrow to be quite the contrary of gain.” Returned to Chelsea, Froude says of his health: “Nothing was essentially the matter, but he slept badly from overwork. Toil was as severe as ever.” With work his health grows worse; “physical pain is bad dispiritment. ... It many times strikes me, being in ill-health and so miserable, art thou not of a surety wrong? Why not quit literature? ... I am weary almost of life itself.” (41.) “ Went out and had long swift-striding walks—till ten— under the stars. . . . The unrested horse or writer cannot work. . . . Have had two or three days of the most perfect rest now. . . . Have finished Chapter I., . . . and gone idle for a week after, till as usual, I am now reduced to a caput mortuum again.” (41.) “ My printers had only ceased the day before; I was wasted and fretted to a thread. My tongue, let me drink as I would, continued as dry as a charcoal.” (42.) “ My health is not fundamentally hurt. Rest will cure me. I grow better daily. I delve, I walk much, generally alone through the lanes and parks.” (42.) “ He fled to Scotland fairly broken down. He had fought and won his long battle. The reaction had come, and his strangely organized nervous system was shattered.” (Froude, June, 1837.) “ My soul’s one wish,” he writes from Scotland, “ is to be
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