The Life of Samuel Johnson - James Boswell [471]
I could not help thinking that this was too high praise of a writer who had traversed a wide extent of country in such haste, that he could put together only curt frittered fragments of his own, and afterwards procured supplemental intelligence from parochial ministers, and others not the best qualified or most impartial narrators, whose ungenerous prejudice against the house of Stuart glares in misrepresentation; a writer, who at best treats merely of superficial objects, and shews no philosophical investigation of character and manners, such as Johnson has exhibited in his masterly Journey, over part of the same ground; and who it should seem from a desire of ingratiating himself with the Scotch, has flattered the people of North-Britain so inordinately and with so little discrimination, that the judicious and candid amongst them must be disgusted, while they value more the plain, just, yet kindly report of JOHNSON.
Having impartially censured Mr. Pennant, as a Traveller in Scotland, let me allow him, from authorities much better than mine, hisdeserved praise as an able Zoologist; and let me also from my own understanding and feelings, acknowledge the merit of his London, which, though said to be not quite accurate in some particulars, is one of the most pleasing topographical performances that ever appeared in any language. Mr. Pennant, like his countrymen in general, has the true spirit of a Gentleman. As a proof of it, I shall quote fromhisLondonthepassage, In which he speaks of my illustrious friend. ‘I must by no means omit Bolt-court, the long residence of Doctor Samuel Johnson, a man of the strongest natural abilities, great learning, a most retentive memory, of the deepest and most unaffected piety and morality, mingled with those numerous weaknesses and prejudices which his friends have kindly taken care to draw from their dread abode.b I brought on myself his transient anger, by observing that in his tour in Scotland, he once had “long and woeful experience of oats being the food of men in Scotland as they were of horses in England.” It was a national reflection unworthy of him, and I shot my bolt. In return he gave me a tender hug. Con amore he also said of me “The dog is a Whig;” I admired the virtues of Lord Russell, and pitied his fall. I should have been a Whig at the Revolution. There have been periods since, in which I should have been, what I now am, a moderate Tory, a supporter, as far as my little influence extends, of a well-poised balance between the crown and people: but should the scale preponderate against the Salus populi,796 that moment may it be said “The dog’s a Whig!”’
We had a calm after the storm, staid the evening and supped, and were pleasant and gay. But Dr. Percy told me he was very uneasy at what had passed; for there was a gentleman797 there who was acquainted with the Northumberland family, to whom he hoped to have appeared more respectable, by shewing how intimate he was with Dr. Johnson, and who might now, on the contrary, go away with an opinion to his disadvantage. He begged I would mention this to Dr. Johnson, which I afterwards did. His observation upon it was, ‘This comes of stratagem; had he told me that he wished to appear to advantage before that gentleman, he should have been at the top of the house, all the time.’ He spoke of Dr. Percy in the handsomest terms. ‘Then, Sir, (said I,) may I be allowed to suggest a