Boswell's Life of Johnson
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 think not.'
BOSWELL. 'You will allow his Apology to be well done.' JOHNSON. 'Very
well done, to be sure, Sir. That book is a striking proof of the justice
of Pope's remark:
"Each might his several province well command,
Would all but stoop to what they understand."'
BOSWELL. 'And his plays are good.' JOHNSON. 'Yes; but that was his
trade; l'esprit du corps: he had been all his life among players and
play-writers. I wondered that he had so little to say in conversation,
for he had kept the best company, and learnt all that can be got by the
ear. He abused Pindar to me, and then shewed me an Ode of his own, with
an absurd couplet, making a linnet soar on an eagle's wing. I told him