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:--
"Esto bonus miles, tutor bonus, arbiter idem
Integer: ambiguae si quando citabere testis,
Incertaeque rei, Phalaris licet imperet ut sis,
Falsus, et admoto dictet perjuria tauro,
Summum crede nefas animam praeferre pudori,
Et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas[2]."'
He repeated the lines with great force and dignity; then
added, 'And, after this, comes Johnny Home, with his _earth
gaping_, and his _destruction crying_:--Pooh[971]!'
While we were lamenting the number of ruined religious buildings which
we had lately seen, I spoke with peculiar feeling of the miserable
neglect of the chapel belonging to the palace of Holyrood-house, in
which are deposited the remains of many of the Kings of Scotland, and
many of our nobility. I said, it was a disgrace to the country that it
was not repaired: and particularly complained that my friend Douglas,
the representative of a great house and proprietor of a vast estate,
should suffer the sacred spot where his mother lies interred, to be
unroofed, and exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather. Dr.
Johnson, who, I know not how, had formed an opinion on the Hamilton
side, in the Douglas cause, slily answered, 'Sir, Sir, don't be too
severe upon the gentleman; don't accuse him of want of filial piety!
Lady Jane Douglas was not _his_ mother.' He roused my zeal so much that
I took the liberty to tell him he knew nothing of the cause: which I do
most seriously believe was the case[972].
We were now 'in a country of bridles and saddles[973],' and set out
fully equipped. The Duke of Argyle was obliging enough to mount Dr.
Johnson on a stately steed from his grace's stable. My friend was highly
pleased, and Joseph said, 'He now looks like a bishop.'
We dined at the inn at Tarbat, and at night came to Rosedow, the
beautiful seat of Sir James Colquhoun, on the banks of Lochlomond, where
I, and any friends whom I have introduced, have ever been received with
kind and elegant hospitality.