The life of Samuel Johnson, , comprehending an account of his studies and numerous works, in chronological order; a series of his epistolary correspondence and conversations with many eminent persons . turalists, but has never been brought to any certainissue. What the Irishman said is totally obliterated from my mind ;but I remember that he became very warm and intemperate in hisexpressions ; upon which Johnson rose, and quietly walked he had retired, his antagonist took his revenge, as he thought,by saying, He has a most iingainly figure, and an afiectation ofDomposity, unwort
The life of Samuel Johnson, , comprehending an account of his studies and numerous works, in chronological order; a series of his epistolary correspondence and conversations with many eminent persons . turalists, but has never been brought to any certainissue. What the Irishman said is totally obliterated from my mind ;but I remember that he became very warm and intemperate in hisexpressions ; upon which Johnson rose, and quietly walked he had retired, his antagonist took his revenge, as he thought,by saying, He has a most iingainly figure, and an afiectation ofDomposity, unworthy of a man of genius. Johnson had not observed that I was in the room. I followed him,however, and he agreed to meet me in the evening at the Mitre. I called AOE 54 BOSWELLS LIFE OF JOHNSON. 231 on him, and we went thither at nine. We had a good supper, and portwine, of which he then sometimes drank a bottle. The orthodox high-church sound of the Mitre,—the figure and manner of the celebratedSamuel Johnson,—the extraordinary power and precision of his con-versation, and the pride, arising from finding myself admitted as hiscompanion, produced a variety of sensations, and a pleasing elevation of. JOHNSON AND BOSWELL AT THE MITRE. mind beyond what I had ever before experienced. I find in myJournal the following minute of our conversation, which, thoughit will give b^t a very faint notion of what passed, is, in somedegree, a valuable record ; and it will be curious in this view, asshowing how habitual to his mind were some opinions which appear inhis works. CoUey Gibber, Sir, was by no means a blockhead, but by arrogatingto himself too much, he was in danger of losing that degree of estima-tion to which he was entitled. His friends gave out that he intendedhis Birthday Odes should be bad ; but that was not the case, Sir ; forhe kept them many months by him, and a few years before he died heshowed me one of them, with great solicitude to render it as perfect asmight be, and I
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