your promise, and let me have them. I offer my very best compliments to
Mrs. Garrick, and ever am,
'Your warm admirer and friend,
'JAMES BOSWELL.'
'_To David Garrick, Esq., London._'
His answer was as follows:--
'Hampton, September 14, 1773.
'DEAR SIR,
'You stole away from London, and left us all in the lurch; for we
expected you one night at the club, and knew nothing of your departure.
Had I payed you what I owed you, for the book you bought for me, I
should only have grieved for the loss of your company, and slept with a
quiet conscience; but, wounded as it is, it must remain so till I see
you again, though I am sure our good friend Mr. Johnson will discharge
the debt for me, if you will let him. Your account of your journey to
_Fores_, the _raven_, _old castle_, &c., &c., made me half mad. Are you
not rather too late in the year for fine weather, which is the life and
soul of seeing places? I hope your pleasure will continue _qualis ab
incepto_, &c.
'Your friend[936] ------ threatens me much. I only wish that he would
put his threats in execution, and, if he prints his play, I will forgive
him. I remember he complained to you, that his bookseller called for the
money for some copies of his ------, which I subscribed for, and that I
desired him to call again. The truth is, that my wife was not at
home[937], and that for weeks together I have not ten shillings in my
pocket.--However, had it been otherwise, it was not so great a crime to
draw his poetical vengeance upon me. I despise all that he can do, and
am glad that I can so easily get rid of him and his ingratitude. I am
hardened both to abuse and ingratitude.
'You, I am sure, will no more recommend your poetasters to my civility
and good offices.
'Shall I recommend to you a play of Eschylus, (the Prometheus,)
published and translated by poor old Morell, who is a good scholar[938],
and an acquaintance of mine? It will be but half a guinea, and your name
shall be put in the list I am making for him. You will be in very
good company.
'Now for the Epitaphs!
[_These, together with the verses on George the Second, and Colley
Cibber, as his Poet Laureat, of which imperfect copies are gone about,
will appear in my Life of Dr. Johnson[939]._]
'I have no more paper, or I should have said more to you. My love[940]
and respects to Mr. Johnson.
'Yours ever,
'D. GARRICK.'
'I can't write. I have the gout in my hand.'
'_To James Boswell, Esq., Edinburgh._'
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 24.
We passed the forenoon calmly and placidly. I prevailed on Dr. Johnson
to read aloud Ogden's sixth sermon on Prayer, which he did with a
distinct expression, and pleasing solemnity. He praised my favourite
preacher, his elegant language, and remarkable acuteness; and said, he
fought infidels with their own weapons.
As a specimen of Ogden's manner, I insert the following passage from the
sermon which Dr. Johnson now read. The preacher, after arguing against
that vain philosophy which maintains, in conformity with the hard
principle of eternal necessity, or unchangeable predetermination, that
the only effect of prayer for others, although we are exhorted to pray
for them, is to produce good dispositions in ourselves towards them;
thus expresses himself:--
'A plain man may be apt to ask, But if this then, though enjoined in the
holy scriptures, is to be my real aim and intention, when I am taught to
pray for other persons, why is it that I do not plainly so express it?
Why is not the form of the petition brought nearer to the meaning? Give
them, say I to our heavenly father, what is good. But this, I am to
understand, will be as it will be, and is not for me to alter. What is
it then that I am doing? I am desiring to become charitable myself; and
why may I not plainly say so? Is there shame in it, or impiety? The wish
is laudable: why should I form designs to hide it?
'Or is it, perhaps, better to be brought about by indirect means, and in
this artful manner? Alas! who is it that I would impose on? From whom
can it be, in this commerce, that I desire to hide any thing? When, as
my Saviour commands me, I have _entered into my closet, and shut my
door_, there are but two parties privy to my devotions, GOD and my own
heart; which of the two am I deceiving?'
He wished to have more books, and, upon inquiring if there were any in
the house, was told that a waiter had some, which were brought to him;
but I recollect none of them, except Hervey's _Meditations_. He thought
slightingly of this admired book. He treated it with ridicule, and would
not allow even the scene of the dying Husband and Father to be
pathetick[941]. I am not an impartial judge; for Hervey's _Meditations_
engaged my affections in my early years. He read a passage concerning
the moon, ludicrously, and shewed how easily he could, in the same
style, make reflections on that planet, the very reverse of
Hervey's[942], representing her as treacherous to mankind. He did this
with much humour; but I have not preserved the particulars. He then
indulged a playful fancy, in making a _Meditation on a Pudding_[943], of
which I hastily wrote down, in his presence, the following note; which,
though imperfect, may serve to give my readers some idea of it.
MEDITATION ON A PUDDING.
'Let us seriously reflect of what a pudding is composed. It is composed
of flour that once waved in the golden grain, and drank the dews of the
morning; of milk pressed from the swelling udder by the gentle hand of
the beauteous milk-maid, whose beauty and innocence might have
recommended a worse draught; who, while she stroked the udder, indulged
no ambitious thoughts of wandering in palaces, formed no plans for the
destruction of her fellow-creatures: milk, which is drawn from the cow,
that useful animal, that eats the grass of the field, and supplies us
with that which made the greatest part of the food of mankind in the age
which the poets have agreed to call golden. It is made with an egg, that
miracle of nature, which the theoretical Burnet[944] has compared to
creation. An egg contains water within its beautiful smooth surface; and
an unformed mass, by the incubation of the parent, becomes a regular
animal, furnished with bones and sinews, and covered with feathers. Let
us consider; can there be more wanting to complete the Meditation on a
Pudding? If more is wanting, more may be found. It contains salt, which
keeps the sea from putrefaction: salt, which is made the image of
intellectual excellence, contributes to the formation of a pudding.'
In a Magazine I found a saying of Dr. Johnson's, something to this
purpose; that the happiest part of a man's life is what he passes lying
awake in bed in the morning. I read it to him. He said, 'I may, perhaps,
have said this; for nobody, at times, talks more laxly than I do[945].'
I ventured to suggest to him, that this was dangerous from one of his
authority.
I spoke of living in the country, and upon what footing one should be
with neighbours. I observed that some people were afraid of being on too
easy a footing with them, from an apprehension that their time would not
be their own. He made the obvious remark, that it depended much on what
kind of neighbours one has, whether it was desirable to be on an easy
footing with them, or not. I mentioned a certain baronet, who told me,
he never was happy in the country, till he was not on speaking terms
with his neighbours, which he contrived in different ways to bring
about. 'Lord ----------(said he) stuck long; but at last the fellow
pounded my pigs, and then I got rid of him.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, My Lord
got rid of Sir John, and shewed how little he valued him, by putting his
pigs in the pound.'
I told Dr. Johnson I was in some difficulty how to act at Inverary. I
had reason to think that the Duchess of Argyle disliked me, on account
of my zeal in the Douglas cause[946]; but the Duke of Argyle had always
been pleased to treat me with great civility. They were now at the
castle, which is a very short walk from our inn; and the question was,
whether I should go and pay my respects there. Dr. Johnson, to whom I
had stated the case, was clear that I ought; but, in his usual way, he
was very shy of discovering a desire to be invited there himself. Though
from a conviction of the benefit of subordination[947] to society, he
has always shewn great respect to persons of high rank, when he happened
to be in their company, yet his pride of character has ever made him
guard against any appearance of courting the great. Besides, he was
impatient to go to Glasgow, where he expected letters. At the same time
he was, I believe, secretly not unwilling to have attention paid him by
so great a Chieftain, and so exalted a nobleman. He insisted that I
should not go to the castle this day before dinner, as it would look
like seeking an invitation. 'But, (said I,) if the Duke invites us to
dine with him to-morrow, shall we accept?' 'Yes, Sir;' I think he said,
'to be sure.' But, he added, 'He won't ask us!' I mentioned, that I was
afraid my company might be disagreeable to the duchess. He treated this
objection with a manly disdain: '_That_, Sir, he must settle with his
wife.' We dined well. I went to the castle just about the time when I
supposed the ladies would be retired from dinner. I sent in my name;
and, being shewn in, found the amiable Duke sitting at the head of his
table with several gentlemen. I was most politely received, and gave his
grace some particulars of the curious journey which I had been making
with Dr. Johnson. When we rose from table, the Duke said to me, 'I hope
you and Dr. Johnson will dine with us to-morrow.' I thanked his grace;
but told him, my friend was in a great hurry to get back to London. The
Duke, with a kind complacency, said, 'He will stay one day; and I will
take care he shall see this place to advantage.' I said, I should be
sure to let him know his grace's invitation. As I was going away, the
Duke said, 'Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea ?' I thought it best to
get over the meeting with the duchess this night; so respectfully
agreed. I was conducted to the drawing room by the Duke, who announced
my name; but the duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty
Hamilton[948], and some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. I
should have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of
whom I, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very high
admiration, had I not been consoled by the obliging attention of
the Duke.
When I returned to the inn, I informed Dr. Johnson of the Duke of
Argyle's invitation, with which he was much pleased, and readily
accepted of it. We talked of a violent contest which was then carrying
on, with a view to the next general election for Ayrshire; where one of
the candidates, in order to undermine the old and established interest,
had artfully held himself out as a champion for the independency of the
county against aristocratick influence, and had persuaded several
gentlemen into a resolution to oppose every candidate who was supported
by peers[949]. 'Foolish fellows! (said Dr. Johnson), don't they see that
they are as much dependent upon the Peers one way as the other. The
Peers have but to _oppose_ a candidate to ensure him success. It is said
the only way to make a pig go forward, is to pull him back by the tail.
These people must be treated like pigs.'
MONDAY, OCTOBER 25.
My acquaintance, the Reverend Mr. John M'Aulay[950], one of the
Ministers of Inverary, and brother to our good friend at Calder[951],
came to us this morning, and accompanied us to the castle, where I
presented Dr. Johnson to the Duke of Argyle. We were shewn through the
house; and I never shall forget the impression made upon my fancy by
some of the ladies' maids tripping about in neat morning dresses. After
seeing for a long time little but rusticity, their lively manner, and
gay inviting appearance, pleased me so much, that I thought, for the
moment, I could have been a knight-errant for them[952].
We then got into a low one-horse chair, ordered for us by the Duke, in
which we drove about the place. Dr. Johnson was much struck by the
grandeur and elegance of this princely seat. He thought, however, the
castle too low, and wished it had been a story higher. He said, 'What I
admire here, is the total defiance of expence.' I had a particular pride
in shewing him a great number of fine old trees, to compensate for the
nakedness which had made such an impression on him on the eastern coast
of Scotland.
When we came in, before dinner, we found the duke and some gentlemen in
the hall. Dr. Johnson took much notice of the large collection of arms,
which are excellently disposed there. I told what he had said to Sir
Alexander M'Donald, of his ancestors not suffering their arms to
rust[953]. 'Well, (said the doctor,) but let us be glad we live in times
when arms _may_ rust. We can sit to-day at his grace's table, without
any risk of being attacked, and perhaps sitting down again wounded or
maimed.' The duke placed Dr. Johnson next himself at table. I was in
fine spirits; and though sensible that I had the misfortune of not being
in favour with the duchess, I was not in the least disconcerted, and
offered her grace some of the dish that was before me. It must be owned
that I was in the right to be quite unconcerned, if I could. I was the
Duke of Argyle's guest; and I had no reason to suppose that he adopted
the prejudices and resentments of the Duchess of Hamilton.
I knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to any body; but
that I might have the satisfaction for once to look the duchess in the
face, with a glass in my hand, I with a respectful air addressed
her,--'My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink your grace's good
health.' I repeated the words audibly, and with a steady countenance.
This was, perhaps, rather too much; but some allowance must be made for
human feelings.
The duchess was very attentive to Dr. Johnson. I know not how a _middle
state[954]_ came to be mentioned. Her grace wished to hear him on that
point. 'Madam, (said he,) your own relation, Mr. Archibald Campbell, can
tell you better about it than I can. He was a bishop of the nonjuring
communion, and wrote a book upon the subject[955].' He engaged to get it
for her grace. He afterwards gave a full history of Mr. Archibald
Campbell, which I am sorry I do not recollect particularly. He said, Mr.
Campbell had been bred a violent Whig, but afterwards 'kept better
company, and became a Tory.' He said this with a smile, in pleasant
allusion, as I thought, to the opposition between his own political
principles and those of the duke's clan. He added that Mr. Campbell,
after the revolution, was thrown into gaol on account of his tenets;
but, on application by letter to the old Lord Townshend[956], was
released; that he always spoke of his Lordship with great gratitude,
saying, 'though a _Whig_, he had humanity.'
Dr. Johnson and I passed some time together, in June 1784[957], at
Pembroke College, Oxford, with the Reverend Dr. Adams, the master; and I
having expressed a regret that my note relative to Mr. Archibald
Campbell was imperfect, he was then so good as to write with his own
hand, on the blank page of my _Journal_, opposite to that which contains
what I have now mentioned, the following paragraph; which, however, is
not quite so full as the narrative he gave at Inverary:--
'_The Honourable_ ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL _was, I believe, the Nephew[958] of
the Marquis of Argyle. He began life by engaging in Monmouth's
rebellion, and, to escape the law, lived some time in Surinam. When he
returned, he became zealous for episcopacy and monarchy; and at the
Revolution adhered not only to the Nonjurors, but to those who refused
to communicate with the Church of England, or to be present at any
worship where the usurper was mentioned as king. He was, I believe, more
than once apprehended in the reign of King William, and once at the
accession of George. He was the familiar friend of Hicks[959] and
Nelson[960]; a man of letters, but injudicious; and very curious and
inquisitive, but credulous. He lived[961] in 1743, or 44, about 75 years
old.'_ The subject of luxury having been introduced, Dr. Johnson
defended it. 'We have now (said he) a splendid dinner before us; which
of all these dishes is unwholesome?' The duke asserted, that he had
observed the grandees of Spain diminished in their size by luxury. Dr.
Johnson politely refrained from opposing directly an observation which
the duke himself had made; but said, 'Man must be very different from
other animals, if he is diminished by good living; for the size of all
other animals is increased by it[962].' I made some remark that seemed
to imply a belief in _second sight_. The duchess said, 'I fancy you will
be a _Methodist_.' This was the only sentence her grace deigned to utter
to me; and I take it for granted, she thought it a good hit on my
_credulity_ in the Douglas cause.
A gentleman in company, after dinner, was desired by the duke to go to
another room, for a specimen of curious marble, which his grace wished
to shew us. He brought a wrong piece, upon which the duke sent him back
again. He could not refuse; but, to avoid any appearance of servility,
he whistled as he walked out of the room, to shew his independency. On
my mentioning this afterwards to Dr. Johnson, he said, it was a nice
trait of character.
Dr. Johnson talked a great deal, and was so entertaining, that Lady
Betty Hamilton, after dinner, went and placed her chair close to his,
leaned upon the back of it, and listened eagerly. It would have made a
fine picture to have drawn the Sage and her at this time in their
several attitudes. He did not know, all the while, how much he was
honoured. I told him afterwards. I never saw him so gentle and
complaisant as this day.
We went to tea. The duke and I walked up and down the drawing-room,
conversing. The duchess still continued to shew the same marked coldness
for me; for which, though I suffered from it, I made every allowance,
considering the very warm part that I had taken for Douglas, in the
cause in which she thought her son deeply interested. Had not her grace
discovered some displeasure towards me, I should have suspected her of
insensibility or dissimulation.
Her grace made Dr. Johnson come and sit by her, and asked him why he
made his journey so late in the year. 'Why, madam, (said he,) you know
Mr. Boswell must attend the Court of Session, and it does not rise till
the twelfth of August.' She said, with some sharpness, 'I _know nothing_
of Mr. Boswell.' Poor Lady Lucy Douglas[963], to whom I mentioned this,
observed, 'She knew _too much_ of Mr. Boswell.' I shall make no remark
on her grace's speech. I indeed felt it as rather too severe; but when I
recollected that my punishment was inflicted by so dignified a beauty, I
had that kind of consolation which a man would feel who is strangled by
a _silken cord_. Dr. Johnson was all attention to her grace. He used
afterwards a droll expression, upon her enjoying the three titles of
Hamilton, Brandon, and Argyle[964]. Borrowing an image from the Turkish
empire, he called her a _Duchess_ with _three tails_.
He was much pleased with our visit at the castle of Inverary. The Duke
of Argyle was exceedingly polite to him, and upon his complaining of the
shelties which he had hitherto ridden being too small for him, his grace
told him he should be provided with a good horse to carry him next day.
Mr. John M'Aulay passed the evening with us at our inn. When Dr. Johnson
spoke of people whose principles were good, but whose practice was
faulty, Mr. M'Aulay said, he had no notion of people being in earnest in
their good professions, whose practice was not suitable to them. The
Doctor grew warm, and said, 'Sir, you are so grossly ignorant of human
nature, as not to know that a man may be very sincere in good
principles, without having good practice[965]!'
Dr. Johnson was unquestionably in the right; and whoever examines
himself candidly, will be satisfied of it, though the inconsistency
between principles and practice is greater in some men than in others.
I recollect very little of this night's conversation. I am sorry that
indolence came upon me towards the conclusion of our journey, so that I
did not write down what passed with the same assiduity as during the
greatest part of it.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26.
Mr. M'Aulay breakfasted with us, nothing hurt or dismayed by his last
night's correction. Being a man of good sense, he had a just admiration
of Dr. Johnson.
Either yesterday morning, or this, I communicated to Dr. Johnson, from
Mr. M'Aulay's information, the news that Dr. Beattie had got a pension
of two hundred pounds a year[966]. He sat up in his bed, clapped his
hands, and cried, 'O brave we[967]!'--a peculiar exclamation of his
when he rejoices[968].
As we sat over our tea, Mr. Home's tragedy of _Douglas_ was mentioned. I
put Dr. Johnson in mind, that once, in a coffee house at Oxford, he
called to old Mr. Sheridan, 'How came you, Sir, to give Home a gold
medal for writing that foolish play?' and defied Mr. Sheridan to shew
ten good lines in it. He did not insist they should be together; but
that there were not ten good lines in the whole play[969]. He now
persisted in this. I endeavoured to defend that pathetick and beautiful
tragedy, and repeated the following passage:--
--'Sincerity,
Thou first of virtues! let no mortal leave
Thy onward path, although the earth should gape,
And from the gulph of hell destruction cry,
To take dissimulation's winding way[970].'
JOHNSON. 'That will not do, Sir. Nothing is good but what is consistent
with truth or probability, which this is not. Juvenal, indeed, gives us
a noble picture of inflexible virtue:--
