Dr. Gibbons, the Dissenting minister, being mentioned, he said, 'I took to Dr. Gibbons.' And addressing himself to Mr. Charles Dilly, added, 'I shall be glad to see him. Tell him, if he'll call on me, and dawdle over a dish of tea in an afternoon, I shall take it kind.'
The Reverend Mr. Smith, Vicar of Southill, a very respectable man, with a very agreeable family, sent an invitation to us to drink tea. I remarked Dr. Johnson's very respectful politeness. Though always fond of changing the scene, he said, 'We must have Mr. Dilly's leave. We cannot go from your house, Sir, without your permission.'
We all went, and were well satisfied with our visit. I however remember nothing particular, except a nice distinction which Dr. Johnson made with respect to the power of memory, maintaining that forgetfulness was a man's own fault.
'To remember and to recollect (said he) are different things. A man has not the power to recollect what is not in his mind; but when a thing is in his mind he may remember it.'
The remark was occasioned by my leaning back on a chair, which a little before I had perceived to be broken, and pleading forgetfulness as an excuse.
'Sir, (said he,) its being broken was certainly in your mind.'
When I observed that a housebreaker was in general very timorous;
JOHNSON. 'No wonder, Sir; he is afraid of being shot getting into a house, or hanged when he has got out of it.'
He told us, that he had in one day written six sheets of a translation from the French, adding, 'I should be glad to see it now. I wish that I had copies of all the pamphlets written against me, as it is said Pope had. Had I known that I should make so much noise in the world, I should have been at pains to collect them. I believe there is hardly a day in which there is not something about me in the newspapers.'
On Monday, June 4, we all went to Luton-Hoe, to see Lord Bute's magnificent seat, for which I had obtained a ticket. {Horace Walpole recorded in his Journal of the Reign of George III that Lord Bute “had built a palace there, another in town, and had furnished the former in the most expensive manner, bought pictures and books, and made a vast park and lake.” – Editor} As we entered the park, I talked in a high style of my old friendship with Lord Mountstuart, and said, 'I shall probably be much at this place.'
The Sage, aware of human vicissitudes, gently checked me: 'Don't you be too sure of that.'
He made two or three peculiar observations; as when shewn the botanical garden, 'Is not every garden a botanical garden?'
When told that there was a shrubbery to the extent of several miles: 'That is making a very foolish use of the ground; a little of it is very well.'
When it was proposed that we should walk on the pleasure-ground; 'Don't let us fatigue ourselves. Why should we walk there? Here's a fine tree, let's get to the top of it.'
But upon the whole, he was very much pleased. He said, 'This is one of the places I do not regret having come to see. It is a very stately place, indeed; in the house magnificence is not sacrificed to convenience, nor convenience to magnificence. The library is very splendid: the dignity of the rooms is very great; and the quantity of pictures is beyond expectation, beyond hope.'
It happened without any previous concert, that we visited the seat of Lord Bute upon the King's birthday; we dined and drank his Majesty's health at an inn, in the village of Luton.
In the evening I put him in mind of his promise to favour me with a copy of his celebrated Letter to the Earl of Chesterfield, and he was at last pleased to comply with this earnest request, by dictating it to me from his memory; for he believed that he himself had no copy. {Johnson had written a famous letter rebuking Lord Chesterfield upon his praising of Johnson’s Dictionary after giving Johnson only ten pounds when he had requested patronage from him for the project. – Editor} There was an animated glow in his countenance while he thus recalled his high-minded indignation.
On Tuesday, June 5, Johnson was to return to London. He was very pleasant at breakfast; I mentioned a friend of mine having resolved never to marry a pretty woman.
JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is a very foolish resolution to resolve not to marry a pretty woman. Beauty is of itself very estimable. No, Sir, I would prefer a pretty woman, unless there are objections to her. A pretty woman may be foolish; a pretty woman may be wicked; a pretty woman may not like me. But there is no such danger in marrying a pretty woman as is apprehended: she will not be persecuted if she does not invite persecution. A pretty woman, if she has a mind to be wicked, can find a readier way than another; and that is all.'
I accompanied him in Mr. Dilly's chaise to Shefford, where talking of Lord Bute's never going to Scotland, he said, 'As an Englishman, I should wish all the Scotch gentlemen should be educated in England; Scotland would become a province; they would spend all their rents in England.'
This is a subject of much consequence, and much delicacy. The advantage of an English education is unquestionably very great to Scotch gentlemen of talents and ambition; and regular visits to Scotland, and perhaps other means, might be effectually used to prevent them from being totally estranged from their native country, any more than a Cumberland or Northumberland gentleman who has been educated in the South of England.
I own, indeed, that it is no small misfortune for Scotch gentlemen, who have neither talents nor ambition, to be educated in England, where they may be perhaps distinguished only by a nick-name, lavish their fortune in giving expensive entertainments to those who laugh at them, and saunter about as mere idle insignificant hangers-on even upon the foolish great; when if they had been judiciously brought up at home, they might have been comfortable and creditable members of society.
At Shefford I had another affectionate parting from my revered friend, who was taken up by the Bedford coach and carried to the metropolis. I went with Messieurs Dilly, to see some friends at Bedford; dined with the officers of the militia of the county, and next day proceeded on my journey.
(classix comix™ is made possible in part through the generous assistance of the Bob’s Bowery Bar Foundation for Worthy but Hopelessly Uncommercial Literary & Artistic Endeavour: “A gentle reminder to the our studio and at-home audience: every Wednesday night is ‘Amateur Nite’ at my favorite watering-hole Bob’s Bowery Bar!
Got a song to sing? A poem or short story to recite? A joke or two? A demonstration of one of the hot new dance crazes? An embarrassing but amusing personal reminiscence? Well, the show starts at 8pm sharp, so get there early to be sure you make the list!
My good friend Tony Winston will be on hand at the Steinway upright to provide musical accompaniment, and joining me as judges this week will be my other good friends Edward R. Murrow, Dawn Powell, and Clare Boothe Luce. Best in show will receive a ten-dollar chit redeemable in drinks and food at – where else? – Bob’s Bowery Bar!” – Horace P. Sternwall, host and narrator of Bob’s Bowery Bar Presents Philip Morris Commander’s “Blanche Weinberg: Lady Psychiatrist”, broadcast live 8pm Sundays {EST} exclusively on the Dumont Television Network. This week’s play: The Man Who Forgot to Forget, by Hermione Pound Schilling, starring Kitty Carlisle as “Dr. Blanche”, with very special guest star Sir Laurence Olivier as “Lord Snoydton”.)
part 226
|
|
