Mr. Thomas Davies the actor, who then kept a bookseller's shop in
Russell street, Covent Garden, told me that Johnson was very much his
friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more than once
invited me to meet him; but by some unlucky accident or other he was
prevented from coming to us.
Mr. Thomas Davies was a man of good understanding and talents, with
the advantage of a liberal education. Tho somewhat pompous, he was an
entertaining companion; and his literary performances have no
inconsiderable share of merit. He was a friendly and very hospitable
man. Both he and his wife (who has been celebrated for her beauty),
tho upon the stage for many years, maintained a uniform decency of
character; and Johnson esteemed them, and lived in as easy an intimacy
with them as with any family which he used to visit. Mr. Davies
recollected several of Johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of
the best of the many imitators of his voice and manner, while relating
them. He increased my impatience more and more to see the
extraordinary man whose works I highly valued, and whose conversation
was reported to be so peculiarly excellent.
At last, on Monday the 16th of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies'
back parlor, after having drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson
unexpectedly came into the shop; and Mr. Davies having perceived him
through the glass door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing
toward us, he announced his awful approach to me, somewhat in the
manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on
the appearance of his father's ghost--"Look, my lord, it comes." I
found that I had a very perfect idea of Johnson's figure from the
portrait of him painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds soon after he had
published his Dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair
in deep meditation; which was the first picture his friend did for
him, which Sir Joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which an
engraving has been made for this work. Mr. Davies mentioned my name,
and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated, and
recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard
much, I said to Davies, "Don't tell where I came from." "From
Scotland," cried Davies, roguishly. "Mr. Johnson" (said I), "I do
indeed come from Scotland, but I can not help it." I am willing to
flatter myself that I meant this as light pleasantry to soothe and
conciliate him, and not as an humiliating abasement at the expense of
my country. But however that might be, this speech was somewhat
unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so
remarkable, he seized the expression "come from Scotland," which I
used in the sense of being of that country; and as if I had said that
I had come away from it, or left it, retorted, "That, sir, I find is
what a very great many of your countrymen can not help." This stroke
stunned me a good deal; and when he had sat down, I felt myself not a
little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. He then
addrest himself to Davies: "What do you think of Garrick? He has
refused me an order for the play of Miss Williams, because he knows
the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three
shillings." Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with
him, I ventured to say, "Oh, sir, I can not think Mr. Garrick would
grudge such a trifle to you."
"Sir" (said he, with a stern look), "I have known David Garrick longer
than you have done; and I know no right you have to talk to me on the
subject." Perhaps I deserved this check; for it was rather
presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the
justice of his animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil. I
now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which
I had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. And in
truth, had not my ardor been uncommonly strong, and my resolution
uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me
forever from making any further attempts....
I was highly pleased with the extraordinary vigor of his conversation,
and regretted that I was drawn away from it by an engagement at
another place. I had for a part of the evening been left alone with
him, and had ventured to make an observation now and then, which he
received very civilly; so that I was satisfied that tho there was a
roughness in his manner, there was no ill-nature in his disposition.
Davies followed me to the door, and when I complained to him a little
of the hard blows which the great man had given me, he kindly took
upon him to console me by saying, "Don't be uneasy. I can see he likes
you very well."
A few days afterward I called on Davies, and asked him if he thought I
might take the liberty of waiting on Mr. Johnson at his chambers in
the Temple. He said I certainly might, and that Mr. Johnson would take
it as a compliment. So on Tuesday the 24th of May, after having been
enlivened by the witty sallies of Messieurs Thornton, Wilkes,
Churchill, and Lloyd, with whom I had passed the morning, I boldly
repaired to Johnson. His chambers were on the first floor of No. 1,
Inner Temple Lane, and I entered them with an impression given me by
the Rev. Dr. Blair,[2] of Edinburgh, who had been introduced to him
not long before, and described his having "found the giant in his
den"; an expression which, when I came to be pretty well acquainted
with Johnson, I repeated to him, and he was diverted at this
picturesque account of himself. Dr. Blair had been presented to him
by Dr. James Fordyce. At this time the controversy concerning the
pieces published by Mr. James Macpherson as translations of Ossian was
at its height. Johnson had all along denied their authenticity; and
what was still more provoking to their admirers, maintained that they
had no merit. The subject having been introduced by Dr. Fordyce, Dr.
Blair, relying on the internal evidence of their antiquity, asked Dr.
Johnson whether he thought any man of a modern age could have written
such poems. Johnson replied, "Yes, sir, many men, many women, and many
children." Johnson, at this time, did not know that Dr. Blair had just
published a Dissertation, not only defending their authenticity, but
seriously ranking them with the poems of Homer and Virgil; and when he
was afterward informed of this circumstance, he exprest some
displeasure at Dr. Fordyce's having suggested the topic, and said, "I
am not sorry that they got thus much for their pains. Sir, it was like
leading one to talk of a book when the author is concealed behind the
door."
He received me very courteously; but it must be confest that his
apartment and furniture and morning dress were sufficiently uncouth.
His brown suit of clothes looked very rusty; he had on a little
shriveled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head; his
shirt-neck and the knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted
stockings ill drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way of
slippers. But all these slovenly particularities were forgotten the
moment that he began to talk. Some gentlemen, whom I do not recollect,
were sitting with him; and when they went away, I also rose; but he
said to me, "Nay, don't go." "Sir" (said I), "I am afraid that I
intrude upon you. It is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you."
He seemed pleased with this compliment, which I sincerely paid him,
and answered, "Sir, I am obliged to any man who visits me."