your promise, and let me have them. I offer my very best compliments toMrs. 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 weexpected 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, Ishould only have grieved for the loss of your company, and slept with aquiet conscience; but, wounded as it is, it must remain so till I seeyou again, though I am sure our good friend Mr. Johnson will dischargethe 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 younot rather too late in the year for fine weather, which is the life andsoul of seeing places? I hope your pleasure will continue _qualis abincepto_, &c.'Your friend[936] ------ threatens me much. I only wish that he wouldput his threats in execution, and, if he prints his play, I will forgivehim. I remember he complained to you, that his bookseller called for themoney for some copies of his ------, which I subscribed for, and that Idesired him to call again. The truth is, that my wife was not athome[937], and that for weeks together I have not ten shillings in mypocket.--However, had it been otherwise, it was not so great a crime todraw his poetical vengeance upon me. I despise all that he can do, andam glad that I can so easily get rid of him and his ingratitude. I amhardened both to abuse and ingratitude.'You, I am sure, will no more recommend your poetasters to my civilityand 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 nameshall be put in the list I am making for him. You will be in verygood company.'Now for the Epitaphs![_These, together with the verses on George the Second, and ColleyCibber, 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. Johnsonto read aloud Ogden's sixth sermon on Prayer, which he did with adistinct expression, and pleasing solemnity. He praised my favouritepreacher, his elegant language, and remarkable acuteness; and said, hefought infidels with their own weapons.As a specimen of Ogden's manner, I insert the following passage from thesermon which Dr. Johnson now read. The preacher, after arguing againstthat vain philosophy which maintains, in conformity with the hardprinciple of eternal necessity, or unchangeable predetermination, thatthe only effect of prayer for others, although we are exhorted to prayfor 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 theholy scriptures, is to be my real aim and intention, when I am taught topray 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? Givethem, say I to our heavenly father, what is good. But this, I am tounderstand, will be as it will be, and is not for me to alter. What isit then that I am doing? I am desiring to become charitable myself; andwhy may I not plainly say so? Is there shame in it, or impiety? The wishis laudable: why should I form designs to hide it?'Or is it, perhaps, better to be brought about by indirect means, and inthis artful manner? Alas! who is it that I would impose on? From whomcan it be, in this commerce, that I desire to hide any thing? When, asmy Saviour commands me, I have _entered into my closet, and shut mydoor_, there are but two parties privy to my devotions, GOD and my ownheart; which of the two am I deceiving?'He wished to have more books, and, upon inquiring if there were any inthe house, was told that a waiter had some, which were brought to him;but I recollect none of them, except Hervey's _Meditations_. He thoughtslightingly of this admired book. He treated it with ridicule, and wouldnot allow even the scene of the dying Husband and Father to bepathetick[941]. I am not an impartial judge; for Hervey's _Meditations_engaged my affections in my early years. He read a passage concerningthe moon, ludicrously, and shewed how easily he could, in the samestyle, make reflections on that planet, the very reverse ofHervey's[942], representing her as treacherous to mankind. He did thiswith much humour; but I have not preserved the particulars. He thenindulged a playful fancy, in making a _Meditation on a Pudding_[943], ofwhich 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 composedof flour that once waved in the golden grain, and drank the dews of themorning; of milk pressed from the swelling udder by the gentle hand ofthe beauteous milk-maid, whose beauty and innocence might haverecommended a worse draught; who, while she stroked the udder, indulgedno ambitious thoughts of wandering in palaces, formed no plans for thedestruction of her fellow-creatures: milk, which is drawn from the cow,that useful animal, that eats the grass of the field, and supplies uswith that which made the greatest part of the food of mankind in the agewhich the poets have agreed to call golden. It is made with an egg, thatmiracle of nature, which the theoretical Burnet[944] has compared tocreation. An egg contains water within its beautiful smooth surface; andan unformed mass, by the incubation of the parent, becomes a regularanimal, furnished with bones and sinews, and covered with feathers. Letus consider; can there be more wanting to complete the Meditation on aPudding? If more is wanting, more may be found. It contains salt, whichkeeps the sea from putrefaction: salt, which is made the image ofintellectual excellence, contributes to the formation of a pudding.'In a Magazine I found a saying of Dr. Johnson's, something to thispurpose; that the happiest part of a man's life is what he passes lyingawake 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 hisauthority.I spoke of living in the country, and upon what footing one should bewith neighbours. I observed that some people were afraid of being on tooeasy a footing with them, from an apprehension that their time would notbe their own. He made the obvious remark, that it depended much on whatkind of neighbours one has, whether it was desirable to be on an easyfooting 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 termswith his neighbours, which he contrived in different ways to bringabout. 'Lord ----------(said he) stuck long; but at last the fellowpounded my pigs, and then I got rid of him.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, My Lordgot rid of Sir John, and shewed how little he valued him, by putting hispigs in the pound.'I told Dr. Johnson I was in some difficulty how to act at Inverary. Ihad reason to think that the Duchess of Argyle disliked me, on accountof my zeal in the Douglas cause[946]; but the Duke of Argyle had alwaysbeen pleased to treat me with great civility. They were now at thecastle, 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 Ihad stated the case, was clear that I ought; but, in his usual way, hewas very shy of discovering a desire to be invited there himself. Thoughfrom a conviction of the benefit of subordination[947] to society, hehas always shewn great respect to persons of high rank, when he happenedto be in their company, yet his pride of character has ever made himguard against any appearance of courting the great. Besides, he wasimpatient to go to Glasgow, where he expected letters. At the same timehe was, I believe, secretly not unwilling to have attention paid him byso great a Chieftain, and so exalted a nobleman. He insisted that Ishould not go to the castle this day before dinner, as it would looklike seeking an invitation. 'But, (said I,) if the Duke invites us todine 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 wasafraid my company might be disagreeable to the duchess. He treated thisobjection with a manly disdain: '_That_, Sir, he must settle with hiswife.' We dined well. I went to the castle just about the time when Isupposed 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 histable with several gentlemen. I was most politely received, and gave hisgrace some particulars of the curious journey which I had been makingwith Dr. Johnson. When we rose from table, the Duke said to me, 'I hopeyou 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. TheDuke, with a kind complacency, said, 'He will stay one day; and I willtake care he shall see this place to advantage.' I said, I should besure to let him know his grace's invitation. As I was going away, theDuke said, 'Mr. Boswell, won't you have some tea ?' I thought it best toget over the meeting with the duchess this night; so respectfullyagreed. I was conducted to the drawing room by the Duke, who announcedmy name; but the duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady BettyHamilton[948], and some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. Ishould have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady ofwhom I, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very highadmiration, had I not been consoled by the obliging attention ofthe Duke.When I returned to the inn, I informed Dr. Johnson of the Duke ofArgyle's invitation, with which he was much pleased, and readilyaccepted of it. We talked of a violent contest which was then carryingon, with a view to the next general election for Ayrshire; where one ofthe candidates, in order to undermine the old and established interest,had artfully held himself out as a champion for the independency of thecounty against aristocratick influence, and had persuaded severalgentlemen into a resolution to oppose every candidate who was supportedby peers[949]. 'Foolish fellows! (said Dr. Johnson), don't they see thatthey are as much dependent upon the Peers one way as the other. ThePeers have but to _oppose_ a candidate to ensure him success. It is saidthe 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 theMinisters of Inverary, and brother to our good friend at Calder[951],came to us this morning, and accompanied us to the castle, where Ipresented Dr. Johnson to the Duke of Argyle. We were shewn through thehouse; and I never shall forget the impression made upon my fancy bysome of the ladies' maids tripping about in neat morning dresses. Afterseeing for a long time little but rusticity, their lively manner, andgay inviting appearance, pleased me so much, that I thought, for themoment, 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, inwhich we drove about the place. Dr. Johnson was much struck by thegrandeur and elegance of this princely seat. He thought, however, thecastle too low, and wished it had been a story higher. He said, 'What Iadmire here, is the total defiance of expence.' I had a particular pridein shewing him a great number of fine old trees, to compensate for thenakedness which had made such an impression on him on the eastern coastof Scotland.When we came in, before dinner, we found the duke and some gentlemen inthe hall. Dr. Johnson took much notice of the large collection of arms,which are excellently disposed there. I told what he had said to SirAlexander M'Donald, of his ancestors not suffering their arms torust[953]. 'Well, (said the doctor,) but let us be glad we live in timeswhen arms _may_ rust. We can sit to-day at his grace's table, withoutany risk of being attacked, and perhaps sitting down again wounded ormaimed.' The duke placed Dr. Johnson next himself at table. I was infine spirits; and though sensible that I had the misfortune of not beingin favour with the duchess, I was not in the least disconcerted, andoffered her grace some of the dish that was before me. It must be ownedthat I was in the right to be quite unconcerned, if I could. I was theDuke of Argyle's guest; and I had no reason to suppose that he adoptedthe prejudices and resentments of the Duchess of Hamilton.I knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to any body; butthat I might have the satisfaction for once to look the duchess in theface, with a glass in my hand, I with a respectful air addressedher,--'My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink your grace's goodhealth.' I repeated the words audibly, and with a steady countenance.This was, perhaps, rather too much; but some allowance must be made forhuman feelings.The duchess was very attentive to Dr. Johnson. I know not how a _middlestate[954]_ came to be mentioned. Her grace wished to hear him on thatpoint. 'Madam, (said he,) your own relation, Mr. Archibald Campbell, cantell you better about it than I can. He was a bishop of the nonjuringcommunion, and wrote a book upon the subject[955].' He engaged to get itfor her grace. He afterwards gave a full history of Mr. ArchibaldCampbell, which I am sorry I do not recollect particularly. He said, Mr.Campbell had been bred a violent Whig, but afterwards 'kept bettercompany, and became a Tory.' He said this with a smile, in pleasantallusion, as I thought, to the opposition between his own politicalprinciples 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], wasreleased; 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], atPembroke College, Oxford, with the Reverend Dr. Adams, the master; and Ihaving expressed a regret that my note relative to Mr. ArchibaldCampbell was imperfect, he was then so good as to write with his ownhand, on the blank page of my _Journal_, opposite to that which containswhat I have now mentioned, the following paragraph; which, however, isnot quite so full as the narrative he gave at Inverary:--'_The Honourable_ ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL _was, I believe, the Nephew[958] ofthe Marquis of Argyle. He began life by engaging in Monmouth'srebellion, and, to escape the law, lived some time in Surinam. When hereturned, he became zealous for episcopacy and monarchy; and at theRevolution adhered not only to the Nonjurors, but to those who refusedto communicate with the Church of England, or to be present at anyworship where the usurper was mentioned as king. He was, I believe, morethan once apprehended in the reign of King William, and once at theaccession of George. He was the familiar friend of Hicks[959] andNelson[960]; a man of letters, but injudicious; and very curious andinquisitive, but credulous. He lived[961] in 1743, or 44, about 75 yearsold.'_ The subject of luxury having been introduced, Dr. Johnsondefended it. 'We have now (said he) a splendid dinner before us; whichof all these dishes is unwholesome?' The duke asserted, that he hadobserved the grandees of Spain diminished in their size by luxury. Dr.Johnson politely refrained from opposing directly an observation whichthe duke himself had made; but said, 'Man must be very different fromother animals, if he is diminished by good living; for the size of allother animals is increased by it[962].' I made some remark that seemedto imply a belief in _second sight_. The duchess said, 'I fancy you willbe a _Methodist_.' This was the only sentence her grace deigned to utterto 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 toanother room, for a specimen of curious marble, which his grace wishedto shew us. He brought a wrong piece, upon which the duke sent him backagain. He could not refuse; but, to avoid any appearance of servility,he whistled as he walked out of the room, to shew his independency. Onmy mentioning this afterwards to Dr. Johnson, he said, it was a nicetrait of character.Dr. Johnson talked a great deal, and was so entertaining, that LadyBetty Hamilton, after dinner, went and placed her chair close to his,leaned upon the back of it, and listened eagerly. It would have made afine picture to have drawn the Sage and her at this time in theirseveral attitudes. He did not know, all the while, how much he washonoured. I told him afterwards. I never saw him so gentle andcomplaisant 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 coldnessfor me; for which, though I suffered from it, I made every allowance,considering the very warm part that I had taken for Douglas, in thecause in which she thought her son deeply interested. Had not her gracediscovered some displeasure towards me, I should have suspected her ofinsensibility or dissimulation.Her grace made Dr. Johnson come and sit by her, and asked him why hemade his journey so late in the year. 'Why, madam, (said he,) you knowMr. Boswell must attend the Court of Session, and it does not rise tillthe 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 remarkon her grace's speech. I indeed felt it as rather too severe; but when Irecollected that my punishment was inflicted by so dignified a beauty, Ihad that kind of consolation which a man would feel who is strangled bya _silken cord_. Dr. Johnson was all attention to her grace. He usedafterwards a droll expression, upon her enjoying the three titles ofHamilton, Brandon, and Argyle[964]. Borrowing an image from the Turkishempire, he called her a _Duchess_ with _three tails_.He was much pleased with our visit at the castle of Inverary. The Dukeof Argyle was exceedingly polite to him, and upon his complaining of theshelties which he had hitherto ridden being too small for him, his gracetold 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. Johnsonspoke of people whose principles were good, but whose practice wasfaulty, Mr. M'Aulay said, he had no notion of people being in earnest intheir good professions, whose practice was not suitable to them. TheDoctor grew warm, and said, 'Sir, you are so grossly ignorant of humannature, as not to know that a man may be very sincere in goodprinciples, without having good practice[965]!'Dr. Johnson was unquestionably in the right; and whoever examineshimself candidly, will be satisfied of it, though the inconsistencybetween principles and practice is greater in some men than in others.I recollect very little of this night's conversation. I am sorry thatindolence came upon me towards the conclusion of our journey, so that Idid not write down what passed with the same assiduity as during thegreatest part of it.TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26.Mr. M'Aulay breakfasted with us, nothing hurt or dismayed by his lastnight's correction. Being a man of good sense, he had a just admirationof Dr. Johnson.Either yesterday morning, or this, I communicated to Dr. Johnson, fromMr. M'Aulay's information, the news that Dr. Beattie had got a pensionof two hundred pounds a year[966]. He sat up in his bed, clapped hishands, and cried, 'O brave we[967]!'--a peculiar exclamation of hiswhen he rejoices[968].As we sat over our tea, Mr. Home's tragedy of _Douglas_ was mentioned. Iput Dr. Johnson in mind, that once, in a coffee house at Oxford, hecalled to old Mr. Sheridan, 'How came you, Sir, to give Home a goldmedal for writing that foolish play?' and defied Mr. Sheridan to shewten good lines in it. He did not insist they should be together; butthat there were not ten good lines in the whole play[969]. He nowpersisted in this. I endeavoured to defend that pathetick and beautifultragedy, and repeated the following passage:----'Sincerity,Thou first of virtues! let no mortal leaveThy 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 consistentwith truth or probability, which this is not. Juvenal, indeed, gives usa noble picture of inflexible virtue:--