Oct. 15, 1782.
... I am very sorry you could not come to Streatham at the time Mrs.
Thrale hoped to see you, for when shall we be likely to meet there
again? You would have been much pleased, I am sure, by meeting with
General Paoli, who spent the day there, and was extremely communicative
and agreeable. I had seen him in large companies, but was never made
known to him before; nevertheless, he conversed with me as if well
acquainted not only with myself, but my connexions,--inquiring of me
when I had last seen Mrs. Montagu? and calling Sir Joshua Reynolds, when
he spoke of him, my friend. He is a very pleasing man, tall and genteel
in his person, remarkably well bred, and very mild and soft in his
manners.
I will try to give you a little specimen of his conversation, because
I know you love to hear particulars of all out-of-the-way persons.
His English is blundering but not unpretty. Speaking of his first
acquaintance with Mr. Boswell,--
“He came,” he said, “to my country, and he fetched me some letter of
recommending him; but I was of the belief he might be an impostor, and I
supposed, in my mind, he was an espy; for I look away from him, and in
a moment I look to him again, and I behold his tablets. Oh! he was
to the work of writing down all I say! Indeed I was angry. But soon I
discover he was no impostor and no espy; and I only find I was myself
the monster he had come to discern. Oh,--is a very good man! I love him
indeed; so cheerful! so gay! so pleasant! but at the first, oh! I was
indeed angry.”
After this he told us a story of an expectation he had of being robbed,
and of the protection he found from a very large dog that he is very
fond of.”
“I walk out,” he said, “in the night; I go towards the field; I behold
a man--oh, ugly one! I proceed--he follow; I go on--he address me. 'You
have one dog,' he says. 'Yes,' say I to him. 'Is a fierce dog?' he says;
'is he fiery?' 'Yes,' reply I, 'he can bite.' 'I would not attack in the
night,' says he, 'a house to have such dog in it.' Then I conclude he
was a breaker, so I turn to him---oh, very rough! not gentle--and I say,
very fierce, 'He shall destroy you, if you are ten!'”
Afterwards, speaking of the Irish giant, who is now shown in town, he
said,--
“He is so large I am as a baby! I look at him--oh! I find myself so
little as a child! Indeed, my indignation it rises when I see him hold
up his hand so high. I am as nothing; and I find myself in the power of
a man who fetches from me half a crown.”
This language, which is all spoke very pompously by him, sounds comical
from himself, though I know not how it may read.