Life of Johnson
by James Boswell
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
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    'Now, Muse, let's sing of rats.'

And what increased the ridicule was, that one of the company, who
slily overlooked the reader, perceived that the word had been
originally MICE, and had been altered to RATS, as more dignified.

Johnson said, that Dr. Grainger was an agreeable man; a man who
would do any good that was in his power. His translation of
Tibullus, he thought, was very well done; but The Sugar-Cane, a
poem, did not please him; for, he exclaimed, 'What could he make of
a sugar-cane? One might as well write the "Parsley-bed, a Poem;"
or "The Cabbage-garden, a Poem."'  BOSWELL. 'You must then pickle
your cabbage with the sal atticum.'  JOHNSON. 'You know there is
already The Hop-Garden, a Poem: and, I think, one could say a great
deal about cabbage. The poem might begin with the advantages of
civilized society over a rude state, exemplified by the Scotch, who
had no cabbages till Oliver Cromwell's soldiers introduced them;
and one might thus shew how arts are propagated by conquest, as
they were by the Roman arms.'  He seemed to be much diverted with
the fertility of his own fancy.

I told him, that I heard Dr. Percy was writing the history of the
wolf in Great-Britain. JOHNSON. 'The wolf, Sir! why the wolf? why
does he not write of the bear, which we had formerly? Nay, it is
said we had the beaver. Or why does he not write of the grey rat,
the Hanover rat, as it is called, because it is said to have come
into this country about the time that the family of Hanover came?
I should like to see The History of the Grey Rat, by Thomas Percy,
D. D., Chaplain in Ordinary to his Majesty,' (laughing
immoderately). BOSWELL. 'I am afraid a court chaplain could not
decently write of the grey rat.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, he need not give
it the name of the Hanover rat.'  Thus could he indulge a luxuriant
sportive imagination, when talking of a friend whom he loved and
esteemed.

On Friday, March 22, having set out early from Henley, where we had
lain the preceding night, we arrived at Birmingham about nine
o'clock, and, after breakfast, went to call on his old schoolfellow
Mr. Hector. A very stupid maid, who opened the door, told us, that
'her master was gone out; he was gone to the country; she could not
tell when he would return.'  In short, she gave us a miserable
reception; and Johnson observed, 'She would have behaved no better
to people who wanted him in the way of his profession.'  He said to
her, 'My name is Johnson; tell him I called. Will you remember the
name?'  She answered with rustick simplicity, in the Warwickshire
pronunciation, 'I don't understand you, Sir.'--'Blockhead, (said
he,) I'll write.'  I never heard the word blockhead applied to a
woman before, though I do not see why it should not, when there is
evident occasion for it. He, however, made another attempt to make
her understand him, and roared loud in her ear, 'Johnson,' and then
she catched the sound.

We next called on Mr. Lloyd, one of the people called Quakers. He
too was not at home; but Mrs. Lloyd was, and received us
courteously, and asked us to dinner. Johnson said to me, 'After
the uncertainty of all human things at Hector's, this invitation
came very well.'  We walked about the town, and he was pleased to
see it increasing.

Mr. Lloyd joined us in the street; and in a little while we met
Friend Hector, as Mr. Lloyd called him. It gave me pleasure to
observe the joy which Johnson and he expressed on seeing each other
again. Mr. Lloyd and I left them together, while he obligingly
shewed me some of the manufactures of this very curious assemblage
of artificers. We all met at dinner at Mr. Lloyd's, where we were
entertained with great hospitality. Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd had been
married the same year with their Majesties, and like them, had been
blessed with a numerous family of fine children, their numbers
being exactly the same. Johnson said, 'Marriage is the best state
for a man in general; and every man is a worse man, in proportion
as he is unfit for the married state.'

Dr. Johnson said to me in the morning, 'You will see, Sir, at Mr.
Hector's, his sister, Mrs. Careless, a clergyman's widow. She was
the first woman with whom I was in love. It dropt out of my head
imperceptibly; but she and I shall always have a kindness for each
other.'  He laughed at the notion that a man never can be really in
love but once, and considered it as a mere romantick fancy.

On our return from Mr. Bolton's, Mr. Hector took me to his house,
where we found Johnson sitting placidly at tea, with his first
love; who, though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very
agreeable, and well-bred.

Johnson lamented to Mr. Hector the state of one of their school-
fellows, Mr. Charles Congreve, a clergyman, which he thus
described: 'He obtained, I believe, considerable preferment in
Ireland, but now lives in London, quite as a valetudinarian, afraid
to go into any house but his own. He takes a short airing in his
post-chaise every day. He has an elderly woman, whom he calls
cousin, who lives with him, and jogs his elbow when his glass has
stood too long empty, and encourages him in drinking, in which he
is very willing to be encouraged; not that he gets drunk, for he is
a very pious man, but he is always muddy. He confesses to one
bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks more. He is quite
unsocial; his conversation is quite monosyllabical: and when, at my
last visit, I asked him what a clock it was? that signal of my
departure had so pleasing an effect on him, that he sprung up to
look at his watch, like a greyhound bounding at a hare.'  When
Johnson took leave of Mr. Hector, he said, 'Don't grow like
Congreve; nor let me grow like him, when you are near me.'

When he again talked of Mrs. Careless to-night, he seemed to have
had his affection revived; for he said, 'If I had married her, it
might have been as happy for me.'  BOSWELL. 'Pray, Sir, do you not
suppose that there are fifty women in the world, with any one of
whom a man may be as happy, as with any one woman in particular?'
JOHNSON. 'Ay, Sir, fifty thousand.'  BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, you are
not of opinion with some who imagine that certain men and certain
women are made for each other; and that they cannot be happy if
they miss their counterparts?'  JOHNSON. 'To be sure not, Sir. I
believe marriages would in general be as happy, and often more so,
if they were all made by the Lord Chancellor, upon a due
consideration of characters and circumstances, without the parties
having any choice in the matter.'

I wished to have staid at Birmingham to-night, to have talked more
with Mr. Hector; but my friend was impatient to reach his native
city; so we drove on that stage in the dark, and were long pensive
and silent. When we came within the focus of the Lichfield lamps,
'Now (said he,) we are getting out of a state of death.'  We put up
at the Three Crowns, not one of the great inns, but a good old
fashioned one, which was kept by Mr. Wilkins, and was the very next
house to that in which Johnson was born and brought up, and which
was still his own property. We had a comfortable supper, and got
into high spirits. I felt all my Toryism glow in this old capital
of Staffordshire. I could have offered incense genio loci; and I
indulged in libations of that ale, which Boniface, in The Beaux
Stratagem, recommends with such an eloquent jollity.

Next morning he introduced me to Mrs. Lucy Porter, his step-
daughter. She was now an old maid, with much simplicity of manner.
She had never been in London. Her brother, a Captain in the navy,
had left her a fortune of ten thousand pounds; about a third of
which she had laid out in building a stately house, and making a
handsome garden, in an elevated situation in Lichfield. Johnson,
when here by himself, used to live at her house. She reverenced
him, and he had a parental tenderness for her.

We then visited Mr. Peter Garrick, who had that morning received a
letter from his brother David, announcing our coming to Lichfield.
He was engaged to dinner, but asked us to tea, and to sleep at his
house. Johnson, however, would not quit his old acquaintance
Wilkins, of the Three Crowns. The family likeness of the Garricks
was very striking; and Johnson thought that David's vivacity was
not so peculiar to himself as was supposed. 'Sir, (said he,) I
don't know but if Peter had cultivated all the arts of gaiety as
much as David has done, he might have been as brisk and lively.
Depend upon it, Sir, vivacity is much an art, and depends greatly
on habit.'  I believe there is a good deal of truth in this,
notwithstanding a ludicrous story told me by a lady abroad, of a
heavy German baron, who had lived much with the young English at
Geneva, and was ambitious to be as lively as they; with which view,
he, with assiduous exertion, was jumping over the tables and chairs
in his lodgings; and when the people of the house ran in and asked,
with surprize, what was the matter, he answered, 'Sh' apprens
t'etre fif.'

We dined at our inn, and had with us a Mr. Jackson, one of
Johnson's schoolfellows, whom he treated with much kindness, though
he seemed to be a low man, dull and untaught. He had a coarse grey
coat, black waistcoat, greasy leather breeches, and a yellow
uncurled wig; and his countenance had the ruddiness which betokens
one who is in no haste to 'leave his can.'  He drank only ale. He
had tried to be a cutler at Birmingham, but had not succeeded; and
now he lived poorly at home, and had some scheme of dressing
leather in a better manner than common; to his indistinct account
of which, Dr. Johnson listened with patient attention, that he
might assist him with his advice. Here was an instance of genuine
humanity and real kindness in this great man, who has been most
unjustly represented as altogether harsh and destitute of
tenderness. A thousand such instances might have been recorded in
the course of his long life; though that his temper was warm and
hasty, and his manner often rough, cannot be denied.

I saw here, for the first time, oat ale; and oat cakes not hard as
in Scotland, but soft like a Yorkshire cake, were served at
breakfast. It was pleasant to me to find, that Oats, the food of
horses, were so much used as the food of the people in Dr.
Johnson's own town. He expatiated in praise of Lichfield and its
inhabitants, who, he said, were 'the most sober, decent people in
England, the genteelest in proportion to their wealth, and spoke
the purest English.'  I doubted as to the last article of this
eulogy: for they had several provincial sounds; as THERE,
pronounced like FEAR, instead of like FAIR; ONCE pronounced WOONSE,
instead of WUNSE, or WONSE. Johnson himself never got entirely
free of those provincial accents. Garrick sometimes used to take
him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with uncouth
gesticulations, looking round the company, and calling out, 'Who's
for POONSH?'

Very little business appeared to be going forward in Lichfield. I
found however two strange manufactures for so inland a place, sail-
cloth and streamers for ships; and I observed them making some
saddle-cloths, and dressing sheepskins: but upon the whole, the
busy hand of industry seemed to be quite slackened. 'Surely, Sir,
(said I,) you are an idle set of people.'  'Sir, (said Johnson,) we
are a city of philosophers, we work with our heads, and make the
boobies of Birmingham work for us with their hands.'

There was at this time a company of players performing at
Lichfield, The manager, Mr. Stanton, sent his compliments, and
begged leave to wait on Dr. Johnson. Johnson received him very
courteously, and he drank a glass of wine with us. He was a plain
decent well-behaved man, and expressed his gratitude to Dr. Johnson
for having once got him permission from Dr. Taylor at Ashbourne to
play there upon moderate terms. Garrick's name was soon
introduced. JOHNSON. 'Garrick's conversation is gay and
grotesque. It is a dish of all sorts, but all good things. There
is no solid meat in it: there is a want of sentiment in it. Not
but that he has sentiment sometimes, and sentiment, too, very
powerful and very pleasing: but it has not its full proportion in
his conversation.'

When we were by ourselves he told me, 'Forty years ago, Sir, I was
in love with an actress here, Mrs. Emmet, who acted Flora, in Hob
in the Well.'  What merit this lady had as an actress, or what was
her figure, or her manner, I have not been informed: but, if we may
believe Mr. Garrick, his old master's taste in theatrical merit was
by no means refined; he was not an elegans formarum spectator.
Garrick used to tell, that Johnson said of an actor, who played Sir
Harry Wildair at Lichfield, 'There is a courtly vivacity about the
fellow;' when in fact, according to Garrick's account, 'he was the
most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon boards.'

We had promised Mr. Stanton to be at his theatre on Monday. Dr.
Johnson jocularly proposed me to write a Prologue for the occasion:
'A Prologue, by James Boswell, Esq. from the Hebrides.'  I was
really inclined to take the hint. Methought, 'Prologue, spoken
before Dr. Samuel Johnson, at Lichfield, 1776;' would have sounded
as well as, 'Prologue, spoken before the Duke of York, at Oxford,'
in Charles the Second's time. Much might have been said of what
Lichfield had done for Shakspeare, by producing Johnson and
Garrick. But I found he was averse to it.

We went and viewed the museum of Mr. Richard Green, apothecary
here, who told me he was proud of being a relation of Dr.
Johnson's. It was, truely, a wonderful collection, both of
antiquities and natural curiosities, and ingenious works of art.
He had all the articles accurately arranged, with their names upon
labels, printed at his own little press; and on the staircase
leading to it was a board, with the names of contributors marked in
gold letters. A printed catalogue of the collection was to be had
at a bookseller's. Johnson expressed his admiration of the
activity and diligence and good fortune of Mr. Green, in getting
together, in his situation, so great a variety of things; and Mr.
Green told me that Johnson once said to him, 'Sir, I should as soon
have thought of building a man of war, as of collecting such a
museum.'  Mr. Green's obliging alacrity in shewing it was very
pleasing.

We drank tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, where was Mrs.
Aston, one of the maiden sisters of Mrs. Walmsley, wife of
Johnson's first friend, and sister also of the lady of whom Johnson
used to speak with the warmest admiration, by the name of Molly
Aston, who was afterwards married to Captain Brodie of the navy.

On Sunday, March 24, we breakfasted with Mrs. Cobb, a widow lady,
who lived in an agreeable sequestered place close by the town,
called the Friary, it having been formerly a religious house. She
and her niece, Miss Adey, were great admirers of Dr. Johnson; and
he behaved to them with a kindness and easy pleasantry, such as we
see between old and intimate acquaintance. He accompanied Mrs.
Cobb to St. Mary's church, and I went to the cathedral, where I was
very much delighted with the musick, finding it to be peculiarly
solemn and accordant with the words of the service.

We dined at Mr. Peter Garrick's, who was in a very lively humour,
and verified Johnson's saying, that if he had cultivated gaiety as
much as his brother David, he might have equally excelled in it.
He was to-day quite a London narrator, telling us a variety of
anecdotes with that earnestness and attempt at mimicry which we
usually find in the wits of the metropolis. Dr. Johnson went with
me to the cathedral in the afternoon. It was grand and pleasing to
contemplate this illustrious writer, now full of fame, worshipping
in the 'solemn temple' of his native city.

I returned to tea and coffee at Mr. Peter Garrick's, and then found
Dr. Johnson at the Reverend Mr. Seward's, Canon Residentiary, who
inhabited the Bishop's palace, in which Mr. Walmsley lived, and
which had been the scene of many happy hours in Johnson's early
life.

On monday, March 25, we breakfasted at Mrs. Lucy Porter's. Johnson
had sent an express to Dr. Taylor's, acquainting him of our being
at Lichfield, and Taylor had returned an answer that his postchaise
should come for us this day. While we sat at breakfast, Dr.
Johnson received a letter by the post, which seemed to agitate him
very much. When he had read it, he exclaimed, 'One of the most
dreadful things that has happened in my time.'  The phrase my time,
like the word age, is usually understood to refer to an event of a
publick or general nature. I imagined something like an
assassination of the King--like a gunpowder plot carried into
execution--or like another fire of London. When asked, 'What is
it, Sir?' he answered, 'Mr. Thrale has lost his only son!'  This
was, no doubt, a very great affliction to Mr. and Mrs. Thrale,
which their friends would consider accordingly; but from the manner
in which the intelligence of it was communicated by Johnson, it
appeared for the moment to be comparatively small. I, however,
soon felt a sincere concern, and was curious to observe, how Dr.
Johnson would be affected. He said, 'This is a total extinction to
their family, as much as if they were sold into captivity.'  Upon
my mentioning that Mr. Thrale had daughters, who might inherit his
wealth;--'Daughters, (said Johnson, warmly,) he'll no more value
his daughters than--'  I was going to speak.--'Sir, (said he,)
don't you know how you yourself think? Sir, he wishes to propagate
his name.'  In short, I saw male succession strong in his mind,
even where there was no name, no family of any long standing. I
said, it was lucky he was not present when this misfortune
happened. JOHNSON. 'It is lucky for ME. People in distress never
think that you feel enough.'  BOSWELL. 'And Sir, they will have
the hope of seeing you, which will be a relief in the mean time;
and when you get to them, the pain will be so far abated, that they
will be capable of being consoled by you, which, in the first
violence of it, I believe, would not be the case.'  JOHNSON. 'No,
Sir; violent pain of mind, like violent pain of body, MUST be
severely felt.'  BOSWELL. 'I own, Sir, I have not so much feeling
for the distress of others, as some people have, or pretend to
have: but I know this, that I would do all in my power to relieve
them.'  JOHNSON. 'Sir it is affectation to pretend to feel the
distress of others, as much as they do themselves. It is equally
so, as if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's
leg is cutting off, as he does. No, Sir; you have expressed the
rational and just nature of sympathy. I would have gone to the
extremity of the earth to have preserved this boy.'

He was soon quite calm. The letter was from Mr. Thrale's clerk,
and concluded, 'I need not say how much they wish to see you in
London.'  He said, 'We shall hasten back from Taylor's.'

Mrs. Lucy Porter and some other ladies of the place talked a great
deal of him when he was out of the room, not only with veneration
but affection. It pleased me to find that he was so much BELOVED
in his native city.

Mrs. Aston, whom I had seen the preceding night, and her sister,
Mrs. Gastrel, a widow lady, had each a house and garden, and
pleasure-ground, prettily situated upon Stowhill, a gentle
eminence, adjoining to Lichfield. Johnson walked away to dinner
there, leaving me by myself without any apology; I wondered at this
want of that facility of manners, from which a man has no
difficulty in carrying a friend to a house where he is intimate; I
felt it very unpleasant to be thus left in solitude in a country
town, where I was an entire stranger, and began to think myself
unkindly deserted; but I was soon relieved, and convinced that my
friend, instead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted the
matter with perfect propriety, for I received the following note in
his handwriting: 'Mrs. Gastrel, at the lower house on Stowhill,
desires Mr. Boswell's company to dinner at two.'  I accepted of the
invitation, and had here another proof how amiable his character
was in the opinion of those who knew him best. I was not informed,
till afterwards, that Mrs. Gastrel's husband was the clergyman who,
while he lived at Stratford upon Avon, where he was proprietor of
Shakspeare's garden, with Gothick barbarity cut down his mulberry-
tree, and, as Dr. Johnson told me, did it to vex his neighbours.
His lady, I have reason to believe, on the same authority,
participated in the guilt of what the enthusiasts for our immortal
bard deem almost a species of sacrilege.

After dinner Dr. Johnson wrote a letter to Mrs. Thrale on the death
of her son. I said it would be very distressing to Thrale, but she
would soon forget it, as she had so many things to think of.
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, Thrale will forget it first. SHE has many
things that she MAY think of. HE has many things that he MUST
think of.'  This was a very just remark upon the different effect
of those light pursuits which occupy a vacant and easy mind, and
those serious engagements which arrest attention, and keep us from
brooding over grief.

In the evening we went to the Town-hall, which was converted into a
temporary theatre, and saw Theodosius, with The Stratford Jubilee.
I was happy to see Dr. Johnson sitting in a conspicuous part of the
pit, and receiving affectionate homage from all his acquaintance.
We were quite gay and merry. I afterwards mentioned to him that I
condemned myself for being so, when poor Mr. and Mrs. Thrale were
in such distress. JOHNSON. 'You are wrong, Sir; twenty years
hence Mr. and Mrs. Thrale will not suffer much pain from the death
of their son. Now, Sir, you are to consider, that distance of
place, as well as distance of time, operates upon the human
feelings. I would not have you be gay in the presence of the
distressed, because it would shock them; but you may be gay at a
distance. Pain for the loss of a friend, or of a relation whom we
love, is occasioned by the want which we feel. In time the vacuity
is filled with something else; or sometimes the vacuity closes up
of itself.'

Mr. Seward and Mr. Pearson, another clergyman here, supt with us at
our inn, and after they left us, we sat up late as we used to do in
London.

Here I shall record some fragments of my friend's conversation
during this jaunt.

'Marriage, Sir, is much more necessary to a man than to a woman;
for he is much less able to supply himself with domestick comforts.
You will recollect my saying to some ladies the other day, that I
had often wondered why young women should marry, as they have so
much more freedom, and so much more attention paid to them while
unmarried, than when married. I indeed did not mention the STRONG
reason for their marrying--the MECHANICAL reason.'  BOSWELL. 'Why,
that IS a strong one. But does not imagination make it much more
important than it is in reality? Is it not, to a certain degree, a
delusion in us as well as in women?' JOHNSON. 'Why yes, Sir; but
it is a delusion that is always beginning again.'  BOSWELL. 'I
don't know but there is upon the whole more misery than happiness
produced by that passion.'  JOHNSON. 'I don't think so, Sir.'

'Never speak of a man in his own presence. It is always
indelicate, and may be offensive.'

'Questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen. It
is assuming a superiority, and it is particularly wrong to question
a man concerning himself. There may be parts of his former life
which he may not wish to be made known to other persons, or even
brought to his own recollection.'

'A man should be careful never to tell tales of himself to his own
disadvantage. People may be amused and laugh at the time, but they
will be remembered, and brought out against him upon some
subsequent occasion.'

'Much may be done if a man puts his whole mind to a particular
object. By doing so, Norton has made himself the great lawyer that
he is allowed to be.'

On Tuesday, March 26, there came for us an equipage properly suited
to a wealthy well-beneficed clergyman;--Dr. Taylor's large roomy
post-chaise, drawn by four stout plump horses, and driven by two
steady jolly postillions, which conveyed us to Ashbourne; where I
found my friend's schoolfellow living upon an establishment
perfectly corresponding with his substantial creditable equipage:
his house, garden, pleasure-grounds, table, in short every thing
good, and no scantiness appearing. Every man should form such a
plan of living as he can execute completely. Let him not draw an
outline wider than he can fill up. I have seen many skeletons of
shew and magnificence which excite at once ridicule and pity. Dr.
Taylor had a good estate of his own, and good preferment in the
church, being a prebendary of Westminster, and rector of Bosworth.
He was a diligent justice of the peace, and presided over the town
of Ashbourne, to the inhabitants of which I was told he was very
liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he had the
preceding winter distributed two hundred pounds among such of them
as stood in need of his assistance. He had consequently a
considerable political interest in the county of Derby, which he
employed to support the Devonshire family; for though the
schoolfellow and friend of Johnson, he was a Whig. I could not
perceive in his character much congeniality of any sort with that
of Johnson, who, however, said to me, 'Sir, he has a very strong
understanding.'  His size, and figure, and countenance, and manner,
were that of a hearty English 'Squire, with the parson super-
induced: and I took particular notice of his upper servant, Mr.
Peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a large white
wig, like the butler or major domo of a Bishop.

Dr. Johnson and Dr. Taylor met with great cordiality; and Johnson
soon gave him the same sad account of their school-fellow,
Congreve, that he had given to Mr. Hector; adding a remark of such
moment to the rational conduct of a man in the decline of life,
that it deserves to be imprinted upon every mind: 'There is nothing
against which an old man should be so much upon his guard as
putting himself to nurse. Innumerable have been the melancholy
instances of men once distinguished for firmness, resolution, and
spirit, who in their latter days have been governed like children,
by interested female artifice.

Dr. Taylor commended a physician who was known to him and Dr.
Johnson, and said, 'I fight many battles for him, as many people in
the country dislike him.'  JOHNSON. 'But you should consider, Sir,
that by every one of your victories he is a loser; for, every man
of whom you get the better, will be very angry, and resolve not to
employ him; whereas if people get the better of you in argument
about him, they'll think, "We'll send for Dr. ******
nevertheless."'  This was an observation deep and sure in human
nature.

Next day, as Dr. Johnson had acquainted Dr. Taylor of the reason
for his returning speedily to London, it was resolved that we
should set out after dinner. A few of Dr. Taylor's neighbours were
his guests that day.

Dr. Johnson talked with approbation of one who had attained to the
state of the philosophical wise man, that is to have no want of any
thing. 'Then, Sir, (said I,) the savage is a wise man.'  'Sir,
(said he,) I do not mean simply being without,--but not having a
want.'  I maintained, against this proposition, that it was better
to have fine clothes, for instance, than not to feel the want of
them. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; fine clothes are good only as they
supply the want of other means of procuring respect. Was Charles
the Twelfth, think you, less respected for his coarse blue coat and
black stock? And you find the King of Prussia dresses plain,
because the dignity of his character is sufficient.'  I here
brought myself into a scrape, for I heedlessly said, 'Would not
YOU, Sir, be the better for velvet and embroidery?'  JOHNSON.
'Sir, you put an end to all argument when you introduce your
opponent himself. Have you no better manners? There is YOUR
WANT.'  I apologised by saying, I had mentioned him as an instance
of one who wanted as little as any man in the world, and yet,
perhaps, might receive some additional lustre from dress.

Having left Ashbourne in the evening, we stopped to change horses
at Derby, and availed ourselves of a moment to enjoy the
conversation of my countryman, Dr. Butter, then physician there.
He was in great indignation because Lord Mountstuart's bill for a
Scotch militia had been lost. Dr. Johnson was as violent against
it. 'I am glad, (said he,) that Parliament has had the spirit to
throw it out. You wanted to take advantage of the timidity of our
scoundrels;' (meaning, I suppose, the ministry). It may be
observed, that he used the epithet scoundrel very commonly not
quite in the sense in which it is generally understood, but as a
strong term of disapprobation; as when he abruptly answered Mrs.
Thrale, who had asked him how he did, 'Ready to become a scoundrel,
Madam; with a little more spoiling you will, I think, make me a
complete rascal:' he meant, easy to become a capricious and self-
indulgent valetudinarian; a character for which I have heard him
express great disgust. We lay this night at Loughborough.

On Thursday, March 28, we pursued our journey. He said, 'It is
commonly a weak man who marries for love.'  We then talked of
marrying women of fortune; and I mentioned a common remark, that a
man may be, upon the whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very
small portion, because a woman of fortune will be proportionally
expensive; whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate in
expenses. JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this is not true. A
woman of fortune being used to the handling of money, spends it
judiciously: but a woman who gets the command of money for the
first time upon her marriage, has such a gust in spending it, that
she throws it away with great profusion.'

He praised the ladies of the present age, insisting that they were
more faithful to their husbands, and more virtuous in every
respect, than in former times, because their understandings were
better cultivated.

At Leicester we read in the news-paper that Dr. James was dead. I
thought that the death of an old school-fellow, and one with whom
he had lived a good deal in London, would have affected my fellow-
traveller much: but he only said, Ah! poor Jamy.'  Afterwards,
however, when we were in the chaise, he said, with more tenderness,
'Since I set out on this jaunt, I have lost an old friend and a
young one;--Dr. James, and poor Harry.'  (Meaning Mr. Thrale's
son.)

I enjoyed the luxury of our approach to London, that metropolis
which we both loved so much, for the high and varied intellectual
pleasure which it furnishes. I experienced immediate happiness
while whirled along with such a companion, and said to him, 'Sir,
you observed one day at General Oglethorpe's, that a man is never
happy for the present, but when he is drunk. Will you not add,--or
when driving rapidly in a post-chaise?'  JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, you
are driving rapidly FROM something, or TO something.'

Talking of melancholy, he said, 'Some men, and very thinking men
too, have not those vexing thoughts. Sir Joshua Reynolds is the
same all the year round. Beauclerk, except when ill and in pain,
is the same. But I believe most men have them in the degree in
which they are capable of having them. If I were in the country,
and were distressed by that malady, I would force myself to take a
book; and every time I did it I should find it the easier.
Melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by every means but
drinking.'

We stopped at Messieurs Dillys, booksellers in the Poultry; from
whence he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to Mr. Thrale's, in the
Borough. I called at his house in the evening, having promised to
acquaint Mrs. Williams of his safe return; when, to my surprize, I
found him sitting with her at tea, and, as I thought, not in a very
good humour: for, it seems, when he had got to Mr. Thrale's, he
found the coach was at the door waiting to carry Mrs. and Miss
Thrale, and Signor Baretti, their Italian master, to Bath. This
was not shewing the attention which might have been expected to the
'Guide, Philosopher, and Friend,' the Imlac who had hastened from
the country to console a distressed mother, who he understood was
very anxious for his return. They had, I found, without ceremony,
proceeded on their intended journey. I was glad to understand from
him that it was still resolved that his tour to Italy with Mr. and
Mrs. Thrale should take place, of which he had entertained some
doubt, on account of the loss which they had suffered; and his
doubts afterwards proved to be well-founded. He observed, indeed
very justly, that 'their loss was an additional reason for their
going abroad; and if it had not been fixed that he should have been
one of the party, he would force them out; but he would not advise
them unless his advice was asked, lest they might suspect that he
recommended what he wished on his own account.'  I was not pleased
that his intimacy with Mr. Thrale's family, though it no doubt
contributed much to his comfort and enjoyment, was not without some
degree of restraint: not, as has been grossly suggested, that it
was required of him as a task to talk for the entertainment of them
and their company; but that he was not quite at his ease; which,
however, might partly be owing to his own honest pride--that
dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too compliant.

On Sunday, March 31, I called on him, and shewed him as a curiosity
which I had discovered, his Translation of Lobo's Account of
Abyssinia, which Sir John Pringle had lent me, it being then little
known as one of his works. He said, 'Take no notice of it,' or
'don't talk of it.'  He seemed to think it beneath him, though done
at six-and-twenty. I said to him, 'Your style, Sir, is much
improved since you translated this.'  He answered with a sort of
triumphant smile, 'Sir, I hope it is.'

On Wednesday, April 3, in the morning I found him very busy putting
his books in order, and as they were generally very old ones,
clouds of dust were flying around him. He had on a pair of large
gloves such as hedgers use. His present appearance put me in mind
of my uncle, Dr. Boswell's description of him, 'A robust genius,
born to grapple with whole libraries.'

He had been in company with Omai, a native of one of the South Sea
Islands, after he had been some time in this country. He was
struck with the elegance of his behaviour, and accounted for it
thus: 'Sir, he had passed his time, while in England, only in the
best company; so that all that he had acquired of our manners was
genteel. As a proof of this, Sir, Lord Mulgrave and he dined one
day at Streatham; they sat with their backs to the light fronting
me, so that I could not see distinctly; and there was so little of
the savage in Omai, that I was afraid to speak to either, lest I
should mistake one for the other.'

We agreed to dine to-day at the Mitre-tavern after the rising of
the House of Lords, where a branch of the litigation concerning the
Douglas Estate, in which I was one of the counsel, was to come on.

I introduced the topick, which is often ignorantly urged, that the
Universities of England are too rich; so that learning does not
flourish in them as it would do, if those who teach had smaller
salaries, and depended on their assiduity for a great part of their
income. JOHNSON. 'Sir, the very reverse of this is the truth; the
English Universities are not rich enough. Our fellowships are only
sufficient to support a man during his studies to fit him for the
world, and accordingly in general they are held no longer than till
an opportunity offers of getting away. Now and then, perhaps,
there is a fellow who grows old in his college; but this is against
his will, unless he be a man very indolent indeed. A hundred a
year is reckoned a good fellowship, and that is no more than is
necessary to keep a man decently as a scholar. We do not allow our
fellows to marry, because we consider academical institutions as
preparatory to a settlement in the world. It is only by being
employed as a tutor, that a fellow can obtain any thing more than a
livelihood. To be sure a man, who has enough without teaching,
will probably not teach; for we would all be idle if we could. In
the same manner, a man who is to get nothing by teaching, will not
exert himself. Gresham College was intended as a place of
instruction for London; able professors were to read lectures
gratis, they contrived to have no scholars; whereas, if they had
been allowed to receive but sixpence a lecture from each scholar,
they would have been emulous to have had many scholars. Every body
will agree that it should be the interest of those who teach to
have scholars and this is the case in our Universities. That they
are too rich is certainly not true; for they have nothing good
enough to keep a man of eminent learning with them for his life.
In the foreign Universities a professorship is a high thing. It is
as much almost as a man can make by his learning; and therefore we
find the most learned men abroad are in the Universities. It is
not so with us. Our Universities are impoverished of learning, by
the penury of their provisions. I wish there were many places of a
thousand a-year at Oxford, to keep first-rate men of learning from
quitting the University.'

I mentioned Mr. Maclaurin's uneasiness on account of a degree of
ridicule carelessly thrown on his deceased father, in Goldsmith's
History of Animated Nature, in which that celebrated mathematician
is represented as being subject to fits of yawning so violent as to
render him incapable of proceeding in his lecture; a story
altogether unfounded, but for the publication of which the law
would give no reparation. This led us to agitate the question,
whether legal redress could be obtained, even when a man's deceased
relation was calumniated in a publication.

On Friday, April 5, being Good Friday, after having attended the
morning service at St. Clement's Church, I walked home with
Johnson. We talked of the Roman Catholick religion. JOHNSON. 'In
the barbarous ages, Sir, priests and people were equally deceived;
but afterwards there were gross corruptions introduced by the
clergy, such as indulgencies to priests to have concubines, and the
worship of images, not, indeed, inculcated, but knowingly
permitted.'  He strongly censured the licensed stews at Rome.
BOSWELL. 'So then, Sir, you would allow of no irregular
intercourse whatever between the sexes?'  JOHNSON. 'To be sure I
would not, Sir. I would punish it much more than it is done, and
so restrain it. In all countries there has been fornication, as in
all countries there has been theft; but there may be more or less
of the one, as well as of the other, in proportion to the force of
law. All men will naturally commit fornication, as all men will
naturally steal. And, Sir, it is very absurd to argue, as has been
often done, that prostitutes are necessary to prevent the violent
effects of appetite from violating the decent order of life; nay,
should be permitted, in order to preserve the chastity of our wives
and daughters. Depend upon it, Sir, severe laws, steadily
enforced, would be sufficient against those evils, and would
promote marriage.'

Mr. Thrale called upon him, and appeared to bear the loss of his
son with a manly composure. There was no affectation about him;
and he talked, as usual, upon indifferent subjects. He seemed to
me to hesitate as to the intended Italian tour, on which, I
flattered myself, he and Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson were soon to
set out; and, therefore, I pressed it as much as I could. I
mentioned, that Mr. Beauclerk had said, that Baretti, whom they
were to carry with them, would keep them so long in the little
towns of his own district, that they would not have time to see
Rome. I mentioned this, to put them on their guard. JOHNSON.
'Sir, we do not thank Mr. Beauclerk for supposing that we are to be
directed by Baretti. No, Sir; Mr. Thrale is to go, by my advice,
to Mr. Jackson, (the all-knowing) and get from him a plan for
seeing the most that can be seen in the time that we have to
travel. We must, to be sure, see Rome, Naples, Florence, and
Venice, and as much more as we can.'  (Speaking with a tone of
animation.)

When I expressed an earnest wish for his remarks on Italy, he said,
'I do not see that I could make a book upon Italy; yet I should be
glad to get two hundred pounds, or five hundred pounds, by such a
work.'  This shewed both that a journal of his Tour upon the
Continent was not wholly out of his contemplation, and that he
uniformly adhered to that strange opinion, which his indolent
disposition made him utter: 'No man but a blockhead ever wrote,
except for money.'  Numerous instances to refute this will occur to
all who are versed in the history of literature.

He gave us one of the many sketches of character which were
treasured in his mind, and which he was wont to produce quite
unexpectedly in a very entertaining manner. 'I lately, (said he,)
received a letter from the East Indies, from a gentleman whom I
formerly knew very well; he had returned from that country with a
handsome fortune, as it was reckoned, before means were found to
acquire those immense sums which have been brought from thence of
late; he was a scholar, and an agreeable man, and lived very
prettily in London, till his wife died. After her death, he took
to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he had. One evening he
lost a thousand pounds to a gentleman whose name I am sorry I have
forgotten. Next morning he sent the gentleman five hundred pounds,
with an apology that it was all he had in the world. The gentleman
sent the money back to him, declaring he would not accept of it;
and adding, that if Mr. ------ had occasion for five hundred pounds
more, he would lend it to him. He resolved to go out again to the
East Indies, and make his fortune anew. He got a considerable
appointment, and I had some intention of accompanying him. Had I
thought then as I do now, I should have gone: but, at that time, I
had objections to quitting England.'

It was a very remarkable circumstance about Johnson, whom shallow
observers have supposed to have been ignorant of the world, that
very few men had seen greater variety of characters; and none could
observe them better, as was evident from the strong, yet nice
portraits which he often drew. I have frequently thought that if
he had made out what the French call une catalogue raisonnee of all
the people who had passed under his observation, it would have
afforded a very rich fund of instruction and entertainment. The
suddenness with which his accounts of some of them started out in
conversation, was not less pleasing than surprizing. I remember he
once observed to me, 'It is wonderful, Sir, what is to be found in
London. The most literary conversation that I ever enjoyed, was at
the table of Jack Ellis, a money-scrivener behind the Royal
Exchange, with whom I at one period used to dine generally once a
week.'

Volumes would be required to contain a list of his numerous and
various acquaintance, none of whom he ever forgot; and could
describe and discriminate them all with precision and vivacity. He
associated with persons the most widely different in manners,
abilities, rank, and accomplishments. He was at once the companion
of the brilliant Colonel Forrester of the Guards, who wrote The
Polite Philosopher, and of the aukward and uncouth Robert Levet; of
Lord Thurlow, and Mr. Sastres, the Italian master; and has dined
one day with the beautiful, gay, and fascinating Lady Craven, and
the next with good Mrs. Gardiner, the tallow-chandler, on Snow-
hill.

On my expressing my wonder at his discovering so much of the
knowledge peculiar to different professions, he to]d me, 'I learnt
what I know of law, chiefly from Mr. Ballow, a very able man. I
learnt some, too, from Chambers; but was not so teachable then.
One is not willing to be taught by a young man.'  When I expressed
a wish to know more about Mr. Ballow, Johnson said, 'Sir, I have
seen him but once these twenty years. The tide of life has driven
us different ways.'  I was sorry at the time to hear this; but
whoever quits the creeks of private connections, and fairly gets
into the great ocean of London, will, by imperceptible degrees,
unavoidably experience such cessations of acquaintance.

'My knowledge of physick, (he added,) I learnt from Dr. James, whom
I helped in writing the proposals for his Dictionary and also a
little in the Dictionary itself. I also learnt from Dr. Lawrence,
but was then grown more stubborn.'

A curious incident happened to-day, while Mr. Thrale and I sat with
him. Francis announced that a large packet was brought to him from
the post-office, said to have come from Lisbon, and it was charged
SEVEN POUNDS TEN SHILLINGS. He would not receive it, supposing it
to be some trick, nor did he even look at it. But upon enquiry
afterwards he found that it was a real packet for him, from that
very friend in the East Indies of whom he had been speaking; and
the ship which carried it having come to Portugal, this packet,
with others, had been put into the post-office at Lisbon.

I mentioned a new gaming-club, of which Mr. Beauclerk had given me
an account, where the members played to a desperate extent.
JOHNSON. 'Depend upon it, Sir, this is mere talk. WHO is ruined
by gaming? You will not find six instances in an age. There is a
strange rout made about deep play: whereas you have many more
people ruined by adventurous trade, and yet we do not hear such an
outcry against it.'  THRALE. 'There may be few people absolutely
ruined by deep play; but very many are much hurt in their
circumstances by it.'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, and so are very many by
other kinds of expence.'  I had heard him talk once before in the
same manner; and at Oxford he said, 'he wished he had learnt to
play at cards.'  The truth, however, is, that he loved to display
his ingenuity in argument; and therefore would sometimes in
conversation maintain opinions which he was sensible were wrong,
but in supporting which, his reasoning and wit would be most
conspicuous. He would begin thus: 'Why, Sir, as to the good or
evil of card-playing--'  'Now, (said Garrick,) he is thinking which
side he shall take.'  He appeared to have a pleasure in
contradiction, especially when any opinion whatever was delivered
with an air of confidence; so that there was hardly any topick, if
not one of the great truths of Religion and Morality, that he might
not have been incited to argue, either for or against. Lord
Elibank had the highest admiration of his powers. He once observed
to me, 'Whatever opinion Johnson maintains, I will not say that he
convinces me; but he never fails to shew me, that he has good
reasons for it.'  I have heard Johnson pay his Lordship this high
compliment: 'I never was in Lord Elibank's company without learning
something.'

We sat together till it was too late for the afternoon service.
Thrale said he had come with intention to go to church with us. We
went at seven to evening prayers at St. Clement's church, after
having drank coffee; an indulgence, which I understood Johnson
yielded to on this occasion, in compliment to Thrale.

On Sunday, April 7, Easter-day, after having been at St. Paul's
Cathedral, I came to Dr. Johnson, according to my usual custom. It
seemed to me, that there was always something peculiarly mild and
placid in his manner upon this holy festival, the commemoration of
the most joyful event in the history of our world, the resurrection
of our LORD and SAVIOUR, who, having triumphed over death and the
grave, proclaimed immortality to mankind.

I repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquaintance, who
maintained, that her husband's having been guilty of numberless
infidelities, released her from conjugal obligations, because they
were reciprocal. JOHNSON. 'This is miserable stuff, Sir. To the
contract of marriage, besides the man and wife, there is a third
party--Society; and if it be considered as a vow--GOD: and,
therefore, it cannot be dissolved by their consent alone. Laws are
not made for particular cases, but for men in general. A woman may
be unhappy with her husband; but she cannot be freed from him
without the approbation of the civil and ecclesiastical power. A
man may be unhappy, because he is not so rich as another; but he is
not to seize upon another's property with his own hand.'  BOSWELL.
'But, Sir, this lady does not want that the contract should be
dissolved; she only argues that she may indulge herself in
gallantries with equal freedom as her husband does, provided she
takes care not to introduce a spurious issue into his family. You
know, Sir, what Macrobius has told us of Julia.'  JOHNSON. 'This
lady of yours, Sir, I think, is very fit for a brothel.'

Mr. Macbean, authour of the Dictionary of ancient Geography, came
in. He mentioned that he had been forty years absent from
Scotland. 'Ah, Boswell! (said Johnson, smiling,) what would you
give to be forty years from Scotland?'  I said, 'I should not like
to be so long absent from the seat of my ancestors.'  This
gentleman, Mrs. Williams, and Mr. Levet, dined with us.

Mrs. Williams was very peevish; and I wondered at Johnson's
patience with her now, as I had often done on similar occasions.
The truth is, that his humane consideration of the forlorn and
indigent state in which this lady was left by her father, induced
him to treat her with the utmost tenderness, and even to be
desirous of procuring her amusement, so as sometimes to incommode
many of his friends, by carrying her with him to their houses,
where, from her manner of eating, in consequence of her blindness,
she could not but offend the delicacy of persons of nice
sensations.

After coffee, we went to afternoon service in St. Clement's church.
Observing some beggars in the street as we walked along, I said to
him I supposed there was no civilized country in the world, where
the misery of want in the lowest classes of the people was
prevented. JOHNSON. 'I believe, Sir, there is not; but it is
better that some should be unhappy, than that none should be happy,
which would be the case in a general state of equality.'

When the service was ended, I went home with him, and we sat
quietly by ourselves.

Upon the question whether a man who had been guilty of vicious
actions would do well to force himself into solitude and sadness;
JOHNSON. 'No, Sir, unless it prevent him from being vicious again.
With some people, gloomy penitence is only madness turned upside
down. A man may be gloomy, till, in order to be relieved from
gloom, he has recourse again to criminal indulgencies.'

On Wednesday, April 10, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, where
were Mr. Murphy and some other company. Before dinner, Dr. Johnson
and I passed some time by ourselves. I was sorry to find it was
now resolved that the proposed journey to Italy should not take
place this year. He said, 'I am disappointed, to be sure; but it
is not a great disappointment.'  I wondered to see him bear, with a
philosophical calmness, what would have made most people peevish
and fretful. I perceived, however, that he had so warmly cherished
the hope of enjoying classical scenes, that he could not easily
part with the scheme; for he said: 'I shall probably contrive to
get to Italy some other way. But I won't mention it to Mr. and
Mrs. Thrale, as it might vex them.'  I suggested, that going to
Italy might have done Mr. and Mrs. Thrale good. JOHNSON. 'I
rather believe not, Sir. While grief is fresh, every attempt to
divert only irritates. You must wait till grief be DIGESTED, and
then amusement will dissipate the remains of it.'

I said, I disliked the custom which some people had of bringing
their children into company, because it in a manner forced us to
pay foolish compliments to please their parents. JOHNSON. 'You
are right, Sir. We may be excused for not caring much about other
people's children, for there are many who care very little about
their own children. It may be observed, that men, who from being
engaged in business, or from their course of life in whatever way,
seldom see their children, do not care much about them. I myself
should not have had much fondness for a child of my own.'  MRS.
THRALE. 'Nay, Sir, how can you talk so?'  JOHNSON. 'At least, I
never wished to have a child.'

He talked of Lord Lyttelton's extreme anxiety as an authour;
observing, that 'he was thirty years in preparing his History, and
that he employed a man to point it for him; as if (laughing)
another man could point his sense better than himself.'  Mr. Murphy
said, he understood his history was kept back several years for
fear of Smollet. JOHNSON. 'This seems strange to Murphy and me,
who never felt that anxiety, but sent what we wrote to the press,
and let it take its chance.'  MRS. THRALE. 'The time has been,
Sir, when you felt it.'  JOHNSON. 'Why, really, Madam, I do not
recollect a time when that was the case.'

On Thursday, April 11, I dined with him at General Paoli's, in
whose house I now resided, and where I had ever afterwards the
honour of being entertained with the kindest attention as his
constant guest, while I was in London, till I had a house of my own
there. I mentioned my having that morning introduced to Mr.
Garrick, Count Neni, a Flemish Nobleman of great rank and fortune,
to whom Garrick talked of Abel Drugger as A SMALL PART; and
related, with pleasant vanity, that a Frenchman who had seen him in
one of his low characters, exclaimed, 'Comment! je ne le crois pas.
Ce n'est pas Monsieur Garrick, ce Grand Homme!'  Garrick added,
with an appearance of grave recollection, 'If I were to begin life
again, I think I should not play those low characters.'  Upon which
I observed, 'Sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great
excellence is your variety of playing, your representing so well,
characters so very different.'  JOHNSON. 'Garrick, Sir, was not in
earnest in what he said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence
is his variety; and, perhaps, there is not any one character which
has not been as well acted by somebody else, as he could do it.'
BOSWELL. 'Why then, Sir, did he talk so?'  JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, to
make you answer as you did.'  BOSWELL. 'I don't know, Sir; he
seemed to dip deep into his mind for the reflection.'  JOHNSON.
'He had not far to dip, Sir: he said the same thing, probably,
twenty times before.'

Of a nobleman raised at a very early period to high office, he
said, 'His parts, Sir, are pretty well for a Lord; but would not be
distinguished in a man who had nothing else but his parts.'

A journey to Italy was still in his thoughts. He said, 'A man who
has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from
his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. The
grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the
Mediterranean. On those shores were the four great Empires of the
world; the Assyrian, the Persian, the Grecian, and the Roman.--All
our religion, almost all our law, almost all our arts, almost all
that sets us above savages, has come to us from the shores of the
Mediterranean.'  The General observed, that 'THE MEDITERRANEAN
would be a noble subject for a poem.'

We talked of translation. I said, I could not define it, nor could
I think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it appeared to
me the translation of poetry could be only imitation. JOHNSON.
'You may translate books of science exactly. You may also
translate history, in so far as it is not embellished with oratory,
which is poetical. Poetry, indeed, cannot be translated; and,
therefore, it is the poets that preserve languages; for we would
not be at the trouble to learn a language, if we could have all
that is written in it just as well in a translation. But as the
beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that
in which it was originally written, we learn the language.'

'Goldsmith (he said,) referred every thing to vanity; his virtues,
and his vices too, were from that motive. He was not a social man.
He never exchanged mind with you.'

We spent the evening at Mr. Hoole's. Mr. Mickle, the excellent
translator of The Lusiad, was there. I have preserved little of
the conversation of this evening. Dr. Johnson said, 'Thomson had a
true poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a
poetical light. His fault is such a cloud of words sometimes, that
the sense can hardly peep through. Shiels, who compiled Cibber's
Lives of the Poets, was one day sitting with me. I took down
Thomson, and read aloud a large portion of him, and then asked,--Is
not this fine? Shiels having expressed the highest admiration.
Well, Sir, (said I,) I have omitted every other line.'

I related a dispute between Goldsmith and Mr. Robert Dodsley, one
day when they and I were dining at Tom Davies's, in 1762.
Goldsmith asserted, that there was no poetry produced in this age.
Dodsley appealed to his own Collection, and maintained, that though
you could not find a palace like Dryden's Ode on St. Cecilia's
Day, you had villages composed of very pretty houses; and he
mentioned particularly The Spleen. JOHNSON. 'I think Dodsley gave
up the question. He and Goldsmith said the same thing; only he
said it in a softer manner than Goldsmith did; for he acknowledged
that there was no poetry, nothing that towered above the common
mark. You may find wit and humour in verse, and yet no poetry.
Hudibras has a profusion of these; yet it is not to be reckoned a
poem. The Spleen, in Dodsley's Collection, on which you say he
chiefly rested, is not poetry.'  BOSWELL. 'Does not Gray's poetry,
Sir, tower above the common mark?'  JOHNSON. Yes, Sir; but we must
attend to the difference between what men in general cannot do if
they would, and what every man may do if he would. Sixteen-string
Jack* towered above the common mark.'  BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, what
is poetry?'  JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, it is much easier to say what it
is not. We all KNOW what light is; but it is not easy to TELL what
it is.'

* A noted highwayman, who after having been several times tried and
acquitted, was at last hanged. He was remarkable for foppery in
his dress, and particularly for wearing a bunch of sixteen strings
at the knees of his breeches.--BOSWELL.

On Friday, April 12, I dined with him at our friend Tom Davies's.
He reminded Dr. Johnson of Mr. Murphy's having paid him the highest
compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by asking his pardon for
repeating some oaths in the course of telling a story.

Johnson and I supt this evening at the Crown and Anchor tavern, in
company with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Mr. Nairne, now one
of the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dunsinan, and my very
worthy friend, Sir William Forbes, of Pitsligo.

We discussed the question whether drinking improved conversation
and benevolence. Sir Joshua maintained it did. JOHNSON. 'No,
Sir: before dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding;
and those who are conscious of their inferiority, have the modesty
not to talk. When they have drunk wine, every man feels himself
happy, and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous:
but he is not improved; he is only not sensible of his defects.'
Sir Joshua said the Doctor was talking of the effects of excess in
wine; but that a moderate glass enlivened the mind, by giving a
proper circulation to the blood. 'I am (said he,) in very good
spirits, when I get up in the morning. By dinner-time I am
exhausted; wine puts me in the same state as when I got up; and I
am sure that moderate drinking makes people talk better.'  JOHNSON.
'No, Sir; wine gives not light, gay, ideal hilarity; but
tumultuous, noisy, clamorous merriment. I have heard none of those
drunken,--nay, drunken is a coarse word,--none of those VINOUS
flights.'  SIR JOSHUA. 'Because you have sat by, quite sober, and
felt an envy of the happiness of those who were drinking.'
JOHNSON. 'Perhaps, contempt.--And, Sir, it is not necessary to be
drunk one's self, to relish the wit of drunkenness. Do we not
judge of the drunken wit, of the dialogue between Iago and Cassio,
the most excellent in its kind, when we are quite sober? Wit is
wit, by whatever means it is produced; and, if good, will appear so
at all times. I admit that the spirits are raised by drinking, as
by the common participation of any pleasure: cock-fighting, or
bear-baiting, will raise the spirits of a company, as drinking
does, though surely they will not improve conversation. I also
admit, that there are some sluggish men who are improved by
drinking; as there are fruits which are not good till they are
rotten. There are such men, but they are medlars. I indeed allow
that there have been a very few men of talents who were improved by
drinking; but I maintain that I am right as to the effects of
drinking in general: and let it be considered, that there is no
position, however false in its universality, which is not true of
some particular man.'  Sir William Forbes said, 'Might not a man
warmed with wine be like a bottle of beer, which is made brisker by
being set before the fire?'--'Nay, (said Johnson, laughing,) I
cannot answer that: that is too much for me.'

I observed, that wine did some people harm, by inflaming,
confusing, and irritating their minds; but that the experience of
mankind had declared in favour of moderate drinking. JOHNSON.
'Sir, I do not say it is wrong to produce self complacency by
drinking; I only deny that it improves the mind. When I drank
wine, I scorned to drink it when in company. I have drunk many a
bottle by myself; in the first place, because I had need of it to
raise my spirits; in the second place, because I would have nobody
to witness its effects upon me.'

He told us, 'almost all his Ramblers were written just as they were
wanted for the press; that he sent a certain portion of the copy of
an essay, and wrote the remainder, while the former part of it was
printing. When it was wanted, and he had fairly sat down to it, he
was sure it would be done.'

He said, that for general improvement, a man should read whatever
his immediate inclination prompts him to; though, to be sure, if a
man has a science to learn, he must regularly and resolutely
advance. He added, 'what we read with inclination makes a much
stronger impression. If we read without inclination, half the mind
is employed in fixing the attention; so there is but one half to be
employed on what we read.'  He told us, he read Fielding's Amelia
through without stopping. He said, 'if a man begins to read in the
middle of a book, and feels an inclination to go on, let him not
quit it, to go to the beginning. He may perhaps not feel again the
inclination.'

Soon after this day, he went to Bath with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I
had never seen that beautiful city, and wished to take the
opportunity of visiting it, while Johnson was there.

On the 26th of April, I went to Bath; and on my arrival at the
Pelican inn, found lying for me an obliging invitation from Mr. and
Mrs. Thrale, by whom I was agreeably entertained almost constantly
during my stay. They were gone to the rooms; but there was a kind
note from Dr. Johnson, that he should sit at home all the evening.
I went to him directly, and before Mr. and Mrs. Thrale returned, we
had by ourselves some hours of tea-drinking and talk.

I shall group together such of his sayings as I preserved during
the few days that I was at Bath.

It having been mentioned, I know not with what truth, that a
certain female political writer, whose doctrines he disliked, had
of late become very fond of dress, sat hours together at her
toilet, and even put on rouge:--JohnsoN. 'She is better employed
at her toilet, than using her pen. It is better she should be
reddening her own cheeks, than blackening other people's
characters.'

He would not allow me to praise a lady then at Bath; observing,
'She does not gain upon me, Sir; I think her empty-headed.'  He
was, indeed, a stern critick upon characters and manners. Even
Mrs. Thrale did not escape his friendly animadversion at times.
When he and I were one day endeavouring to ascertain, article by
article, how one of our friends could possibly spend as much money
in his family as he told us he did, she interrupted us by a lively
extravagant sally, on the expence of clothing his children,
describing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful manner. Johnson
looked a little angry, and said, 'Nay, Madam, when you are
declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate.'  At
another time, when she said, perhaps affectedly, 'I don't like to
fly.'  JOHNSON. 'With YOUR wings, Madam, you MUST fly: but have a
care, there are CLIPPERS abroad.'

On Monday, April 29, he and I made an excursion to Bristol, where I
was entertained with seeing him enquire upon the spot, into the
authenticity of 'Rowley's Poetry,' as I had seen him enquire upon
the spot into the authenticity of 'Ossian's Poetry.'  George
Catcot, the pewterer, who was as zealous for Rowley, as Dr. Hugh
Blair was for Ossian, (I trust my Reverend friend will excuse the
comparison,) attended us at our inn, and with a triumphant air of
lively simplicity called out, 'I'll make Dr. Johnson a convert.'
Dr. Johnson, at his desire, read aloud some of Chatterton's
fabricated verses, while Catcot stood at the back of his chair, ,
moving himself like a pendulum, and beating time with his feet, and
now and then looking into Dr. Johnson's face, wondering that he was
not yet convinced. We called on Mr. Barret, the surgeon, and saw
some of the ORIGINALS as they were called, which were executed very
artificially; but from a careful inspection of them, and a
consideration of the circumstances with which they were attended,
we were quite satisfied of the imposture, which, indeed, has been
clearly demonstrated from internal evidence, by several able
criticks.

Honest Catcot seemed to pay no attention whatever to any
objections, but insisted, as an end of all controversy, that we
should go with him to the tower of the church of St. Mary,
Redcliff, and VIEW WITH OUR OWN EYES the ancient chest in which the
manuscripts were found. To this, Dr. Johnson good-naturedly
agreed; and though troubled with a shortness of breathing, laboured
up a long flight of steps, till we came to the place where the
wonderous chest stood. 'THERE, (said Cateot, with a bouncing
confident credulity,) THERE is the very chest itself.'  After this
OCULAR DEMONSTRATION, there was no more to be said. He brought to
my recollection a Scotch Highlander, a man of learning too, and who
had seen the world, attesting, and at the same time giving his
reasons for the authenticity of Fingal:--'I have heard all that
poem when I was young.'--'Have you, Sir? Pray what have you
heard?'--'I have heard Ossian, Oscar, and EVERY ONE OF THEM.'

Johnson said of Chatterton, 'This is the most extraordinary young
man that has encountered my knowledge. It is wonderful how the
whelp has written such things.'

We were by no means pleased with our inn at Bristol. 'Let us see
now, (said I,) how we should describe it.'  Johnson was ready with
his raillery. 'Describe it, Sir?--Why, it was so bad that Boswell
wished to be in Scotland!'

After Dr. Johnson's return to London, I was several times with him
at his house, where I occasionally slept, in the room that had been
assigned to me. I dined with him at Dr. Taylor's, at General
Oglethorpe's, and at General Paoli's. To avoid a tedious
minuteness, I shall group together what I have preserved of his
conversation during this period also, without specifying each scene
where it passed, except one, which will be found so remarkable as
certainly to deserve a very particular relation.

'Garrick (he observed,) does not play the part of Archer in The
Beaux Stratagem well. The gentleman should break out through the
footman, which is not the case as he does it.'

'That man is never happy for the present is so true, that all his
relief from unhappiness is only forgetting himself for a little
while. Life is a progress from want to want, not from enjoyment to
enjoyment.'

'Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son, I think, might be made a
very pretty book. Take out the immorality, and it should be put
into the hands of every young gentleman. An elegant manner and
easiness of behaviour are acquired gradually and imperceptibly. No
man can say "I'll be genteel."  There are ten genteel women for one
genteel man, because they are more restrained. A man without some
degree of restraint is insufferable; but we are all less restrained
than women. Were a woman sitting in company to put out her legs
before her as most men do, we should be tempted to kick them in.'

No man was a more attentive and nice observer of behaviour in those
in whose company he happened to be, than Johnson; or, however
strange it may seem to many, had a higher estimation of its
refinements. Lord Eliot informs me, that one day when Johnson and
he were at dinner at a gentleman's house in London, upon Lord
Chesterfield's Letters being mentioned, Johnson surprized the
company by this sentence: 'Every man of any education would rather
be called a rascal, than accused of deficiency in THE GRACES.'  Mr.
Gibbon, who was present, turned to a lady who knew Johnson well,
and lived much with him, and in his quaint manner, tapping his box,
addressed her thus: 'Don't you think, Madam, (looking towards
Johnson,) that among ALL your acquaintance, you could find ONE
exception?'  The lady smiled, and seemed to acquiesce.

The uncommon vivacity of General Oglethorpe's mind, and variety of
knowledge, having sometimes made his conversation seem too
desultory, Johnson observed, 'Oglethorpe, Sir, never COMPLETES what
he has to say.'

He on the same account made a similar remark on Patrick Lord
Elibank: 'Sir, there is nothing CONCLUSIVE in his talk.'

When I complained of having dined at a splendid table without
hearing one sentence of conversation worthy of being remembered, he
said, 'Sir, there seldom is any such conversation.'  BOSWELL. 'Why
then meet at table?'  JOHNSON. 'Why, to eat and drink together,
and to promote kindness; and, Sir, this is better done when there
is no solid conversation; for when there is, people differ in
opinion, and get into bad humour, or some of the company who are
not capable of such conversation, are left out, and feel themselves
uneasy. It was for this reason, Sir Robert Walpole said, he always
talked bawdy at his table, because in that all could join.'

Being irritated by hearing a gentleman* ask Mr. Levett a variety of
questions concerning him, when he was sitting by, he broke out,
'Sir, you have but two topicks, yourself and me. I am sick of
both.'  'A man, (said he,) should not talk of himself, nor much of
any particular person. He should take care not to be made a
proverb; and, therefore, should avoid having any one topick of
which people can say, "We shall hear him upon it."  There was a Dr.
Oldfield, who was always talking of the Duke of Marlborough. He
came into a coffee-house one day, and told that his Grace had
spoken in the House of Lords for half an hour. "Did he indeed
speak for half an hour?" (said Belehier, the surgeon,)--"Yes."--
"And what did he say of Dr. Oldfield?"--"Nothing"--"Why then, Sir,
he was very ungrateful; for Dr. Oldfield could not have spoken for
a quarter of an hour, without saying something of him."'

* Most likely Boswell himself.--HILL.

I am now to record a very curious incident in Dr. Johnson's Life,
which fell under my own observation; of which pars magna fui, and
which I am persuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his
credit.

My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every
description, had made me, much about the same time, obtain an
introduction to Dr. Samuel Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq. Two
men more different could perhaps not be selected out of all
mankind. They had even attacked one another with some asperity in
their writings; yet I lived in habits of friendship with both. I
could fully relish the excellence of each; for I have ever
delighted in that intellectual chymistry, which can separate good
qualities from evil in the same person.

Sir John Pringle, 'mine own friend and my Father's friend,' between
whom and Dr. Johnson I in vain wished to establish an acquaintance,
as I respected and lived in intimacy with both of them, observed to
me once, very ingeniously, 'It is not in friendship as in
mathematicks, where two things, each equal to a third, are equal
between themselves. You agree with Johnson as a middle quality,
and you agree with me as a middle quality; but Johnson and I should
not agree.'  Sir John was not sufficiently flexible; so I desisted;
knowing, indeed, that the repulsion was equally strong on the part
of Johnson; who, I know not from what cause, unless his being a
Scotchman, had formed a very erroneous opinion of Sir John. But I
conceived an irresistible wish, if possible, to bring Dr. Johnson
and Mr. Wilkes together. How to manage it, was a nice and
difficult matter.

My worthy booksellers and friends, Messieurs Dilly in the Poultry,
at whose hospitable and well-covered table I have seen a greater
number of literary men, than at any other, except that of Sir
Joshua Reynolds, had invited me to meet Mr. Wilkes and some more
gentlemen on Wednesday, May 15. 'Pray (said I,) let us have Dr.
Johnson.'--'What with Mr. Wilkes? not for the world, (said Mr.
Edward Dilly:) Dr. Johnson would never forgive me.'--'Come, (said
I,) if you'll let me negotiate for you, I will be answerable that
all shall go well.'  DILLY. 'Nay, if you will take it upon you, I
am sure I shall be very happy to see them both here.'

Notwithstanding the high veneration which I entertained for Dr.
Johnson, I was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by
the spirit of contradiction, and by means of that I hoped I should
gain my point. I was persuaded that if I had come upon him with a
direct proposal, 'Sir, will you dine in company with Jack Wilkes?'
he would have flown into a passion, and would probably have
answered, 'Dine with Jack Wilkes, Sir! I'd as soon dine with Jack
Ketch.'  I therefore, while we were sitting quietly by ourselves at
his house in an evening, took occasion to open my plan thus:--'Mr.
Dilly, Sir, sends his respectful compliments to you, and would be
happy if you would do him the honour to dine with him on Wednesday
next along with me, as I must soon go to Scotland.'  JOHNSON.
'Sir, I am obliged to Mr. Dilly. I will wait upon him--'  BOSWELL.
'Provided, Sir, I suppose, that the company which he is to have, is
agreeable to you.'  JOHNSON. 'What do you mean, Sir? What do you
take me for? Do you think I am so ignorant of the world as to
imagine that I am to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to
have at his table?'  BOSWELL. 'I beg your pardon, Sir, for wishing
to prevent you from meeting people whom you might not like.
Perhaps he may have some of what he calls his patriotick friends
with him.'  Johnson. 'Well, Sir, and what then? What care I for
his PATRIOTICK FRIENDS? Poh!'  BOSWELL. 'I should not be
surprized to find Jack Wilkes there.'  Johnson. 'And if Jack
Wilkes SHOULD be there, what is that to ME, Sir? My dear friend,
let us have no more of this. I am sorry to be angry with you; but
really it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if I could not
meet any company whatever, occasionally.'  BOSWELL. 'Pray forgive
me, Sir: I meant well. But you shall meet whoever comes, for me.'
Thus I secured him, and told Dilly that he would find him very well
pleased to be one of his guests on the day appointed.

Upon the much-expected Wednesday, I called on him about half an
hour before dinner, as I often did when we were to dine out
together, to see that he was ready in time, and to accompany him.
I found him buffeting his books, as upon a former occasion, covered
with dust, and making no preparation for going abroad. 'How is
this, Sir? (said I.)  Don't you recollect that you are to dine at
Mr. Dilly's?'  JOHNSON. 'Sir, I did not think of going to Dilly's:
it went out of my head. I have ordered dinner at home with Mrs.
Williams.'  BOSWELL. 'But, my dear Sir, you know you were engaged
to Mr. Dilly, and I told him so. He will expect you, and will be
much disappointed if you don't come.'  JOHNSON. 'You must talk to
Mrs. Williams about this.'

Here was a sad dilemma. I feared that what I was so confident I
had secured would yet be frustrated. He had accustomed himself to
shew Mrs. Williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently
imposed some restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be
obstinate, he would not stir. I hastened down stairs to the blind
lady's room, and told her I was in great uneasiness, for Dr.
Johnson had engaged to me to dine this day at Mr. Dilly's, but that
he had told me he had forgotten his engagement, and had ordered
dinner at home. 'Yes, Sir, (said she, pretty peevishly,) Dr.
Johnson is to dine at home.'--'Madam, (said I,) his respect for you
is such, that I know he will not leave you unless you absolutely
desire it. But as you have so much of his company, I hope you will
be good enough to forego it for a day; as Mr. Dilly is a very
worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for
Dr. Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day.
And then, Madam, be pleased to consider my situation; I carried the
message, and I assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come, and
no doubt he has made a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted
of the honour he expected to have. I shall be quite disgraced if
the Doctor is not there.'  She gradually softened to my
solicitations, which were certainly as earnest as most entreaties
to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously pleased to empower
me to tell Dr. Johnson, 'That all things considered, she thought he
should certainly go.'  I flew back to him, still in dust, and
careless of what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice to
go or stay;' but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams'
consent, he roared, 'Frank, a clean shirt,' and was very soon
drest. When I had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, I
exulted as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a
post-chaise with him to set out for Gretna-Green.

When we entered Mr. Dilly's drawing room, he found himself in the
midst of a company he did not know. I kept myself snug and silent,
watching how he would conduct himself. I observed him whispering
to Mr. Dilly, 'Who is that gentleman, Sir?'--'Mr. Arthur Lee.'--
JOHNSON. 'Too, too, too,' (under his breath,) which was one of his
habitual mutterings. Mr. Arthur Lee could not but be very
obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not only a PATRIOT but an
AMERICAN. He was afterwards minister from the United States at the
court of Madrid. 'And who is the gentleman in lace?'--'Mr. Wilkes,
Sir.'  This information confounded him still more; he had some
difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book, sat down upon
a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it intently
for some time, till he composed himself. His feelings, I dare say,
were aukward enough. But he no doubt recollected his having rated
me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any
company, and he, therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite
as an easy man of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the
disposition and manners of those whom he might chance to meet.

The cheering sound of 'Dinner is upon the table,' dissolved his
reverie, and we ALL sat down without any symptom of ill humour.
There were present, beside Mr. Wilkes, and Mr. Arthur Lee, who was
an old companion of mine when he studied physick at Edinburgh, Mr.
(now Sir John) Miller, Dr. Lettsom, and Mr. Slater the druggist.
Mr. Wilkes placed himself next to Dr. Johnson, and behaved to him
with so much attention and politeness, that he gained upon him
insensibly. No man eat more heartily than Johnson, or loved better
what was nice and delicate. Mr. Wilkes was very assiduous in
helping him to some fine veal. 'Pray give me leave, Sir:--It is
better here--A little of the brown--Some fat, Sir--A little of the
stuffing--Some gravy--Let me have the pleasure of giving you some
butter--Allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;--or the
lemon, perhaps, may have more zest.'--'Sir, Sir, I am obliged to
you, Sir,' cried Johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with
a look for some time of 'surly virtue,' but, in a short while, of
complacency.

Foote being mentioned, Johnson said, 'He is not a good mimick.'
One of the company added, 'A merry Andrew, a buffoon.'  JOHNSON.
'But he has wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility
and variety of imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge
enough to fill up his part. One species of wit he has in an
eminent degree, that of escape. You drive him into a corner with
both hands; but he's gone, Sir, when you think you have got him--
like an animal that jumps over your head. Then he has a great
range for wit; he never lets truth stand between him and a jest,
and he is sometimes mighty coarse. Garrick is under many
restraints from which Foote is free.'  WILKES. 'Garrick's wit is
more like Lord Chesterfield's.'  JOHNSON. 'The first time I was in
company with Foote was at Fitzherbert's. Having no good opinion of
the fellow, I was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very
difficult to please a man against his will. I went on eating my
dinner pretty sullenly, affecting not to mind him. But the dog was
so very comical, that I was obliged to lay down my knife and fork,
throw myself back upon my chair, and fairly laugh it out. No, Sir,
he was irresistible. He upon one occasion experienced, in an
extraordinary degree, the efficacy of his powers of entertaining.
Amongst the many and various modes which he tried of getting money,
he became a partner with a small-beer brewer, and he was to have a
share of the profits for procuring customers amongst his numerous
acquaintance. Fitzherbert was one who took his small-beer; but it
was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink it. They were
at some loss how to notify their resolution, being afraid of
offending their master, who they knew liked Foote much as a
companion. At last they fixed upon a little black boy, who was
rather a favourite, to be their deputy, and deliver their
remonstrance; and having invested him with the whole authority of
the kitchen, he was to inform Mr. Fitzherbert, in all their names,
upon a certain day, that they would drink Foote's small-beer no
longer. On that day Foote happened to dine at Fitzherbert's, and
this boy served at table; he was so delighted with Foote's stories,
and merriment, and grimace, that when he went down stairs, he told
them, "This is the finest man I have ever seen. I will not deliver
your message. I will drink his small-beer."'

Somebody observed that Garrick could not have done this. WILKES.
'Garrick would have made the small-beer still smaller. He is now
leaving the stage; but he will play Scrub all his life.'  I knew
that Johnson would let nobody attack Garrick but himself, as
Garrick once said to me, and I had heard him praise his liberality;
so to bring out his commendation of his celebrated pupil, I said,
loudly, 'I have heard Garrick is liberal.'  JOHNSON. 'Yes, Sir, I
know that Garrick has given away more money than any man in England
that I am acquainted with, and that not from ostentatious views.
Garrick was very poor when he began life; so when he came to have
money, he probably was very unskilful in giving away, and saved
when he should not. But Garrick began to be liberal as soon as he
could; and I am of opinion, the reputation of avarice which he has
had, has been very lucky for him, and prevented his having many
enemies. You despise a man for avarice, but do not hate him.
Garrick might have been much better attacked for living with more
splendour than is suitable to a player: if they had had the wit to
have assaulted him in that quarter, they might have galled him
more. But they have kept clamouring about his avarice, which has
rescued him from much obloquy and envy.'

Talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick information
for biography, Johnson told us, 'When I was a young fellow I wanted
to write the Life of Dryden, and in order to get materials, I
applied to the only two persons then alive who had seen him; these
were old Swinney, and old Cibber. Swinney's information was no
more than this, "That at Will's coffee-house Dryden had a
particular chair for himself, which was set by the fire in winter,
and was then called his winter-chair; and that it was carried out
for him to the balcony in summer, and was then called his summer-
chair."  Cibber could tell no more but "That he remembered him a
decent old man, arbiter of critical disputes at Will's."  You are
to consider that Cibber was then at a great distance from Dryden,
had perhaps one leg only in the room, and durst not draw in the
other.'  BOSWELL. 'Yet Cibber was a man of observation?'  JOHNSON.
'I