Dr. J.—Small joints, I believe, they manage with a string, larger are done at the tavern. I have some thoughts (with profound gravity) of buying a jack, because I think a jack is some credit to a house.
Mr. T.—Well, but you'll have a spit, too?
Dr. J.—No, sir, no; that would be superfluous; for we shall never use it; and if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed!
Mrs. T.—But pray, sir, who is the Poll you talk of? She that you used to abet in her quarrels with Mrs. Williams, and call out, “At her again, Poll! Never flinch, Poll."[65]
Dr. J.—Why, I took to Poll very well at first, but she won't do upon a nearer examination.
Mrs. T.—How came she among you, sir?
Dr. J.—Why I don't rightly remember, but we could spare her very well from us. Poll is a stupid slut; I had some hopes of her at first; but when I talked to her tightly and closely, I could make nothing of her; she was wiggle waggle, and I could never persuade her to be categorical, I wish Miss Burney would come among us; if she would only give us a week, we should furnish her with ample materials for a new scene in her next work.
ANTICIPATED VISIT FROM MRS. MONTAGU.
[“The great Mrs. Montagu” deserves a somewhat longer notice
than can be conveniently compressed within the limits of a
footnote. She was as indisputably, in public estimation, the
leading literary lady of the time, as Johnson was the
leading man of letters. Her maiden name was Elizabeth
Robinson. She was born at York in the year 1720, and
married, in 1742, Edward Montagu, grandson of the first Earl
of Sandwich. Her husband's death, in 1775, left her in the
possession of a handsome fortune. Mrs. Montagu's literary
celebrity was by no means dearly bought, for it rested,
almost exclusively, on her “Essay on the Writings and Genius
of Shakespear,” published by Dodsley in 1769. Indeed, the
only other writings which she committed to the press were
three “Dialogues of the Dead,” appended to the Well-known
“Dialogues” of her friend, Lord Lyttelton. The “Essay” is
an elegantly written little work, superficial when regarded
in the light of modern criticism, but marked by good sense
and discrimination. One of the chief objects of the
authoress was to defend Shakespeare against the strictures
of Voltaire, and in this not very difficult task she has
undoubtedly succeeded. Johnson's opinion of the “Essay” was
unfavourable. To Sir Joshua Reynolds's remark, that it did
honour to its authoress, he replied: “Yes Sir: it does her
honour, but it would do nobody else honour;” and he goes on
to observe that “there is not one sentence of true criticism
in the book.” But if the general applause which the book
had excited was out of all proportion to its merits,
Johnson's unqualified condemnation was more than equally
disproportionate to its defects.
Of Mrs. Montagu's conversational abilities Johnson
entertained a higher opinion. “Sir,” he would say, “that
lady exerts more mind in conversation than any person I ever
met with” (Miss Reynolds's Recollections). It was probably,
indeed, to the fame of her conversation, and of the has been
parties which assembled at her house, that she owed the
greater part of her reputation. She was the acknowledged
“Queen of the Blue Stockings” although the epithet
originated with a rival giver of literary parties, Mrs.
Vesey, who, replying to the apology of a gentleman who
declined an invitation to one of her meetings on the plea of
want of dress, exclaimed, “Pho, pho! don't mind dress! Come
in your blue stockings!” The term “Blue Stocking” (bas
bleu) was thenceforward applied to the set which met at Mrs.
Vesey's, and was gradually extended to other coteries of
similar character.
The charitable and beneficient disposition of Mrs. Montagu
was as notorious as her intellectual superiority. It may be
interesting here to observe that after her husband's death,
in 1775, she doubled the income of poor Anna Williams, the
blind poetess who resided with Dr. Johnson, by settling upon
her an annuity of ten pounds. The publication of Johnson's
“Lives of the Poets,” in 1781, occasioned a coolness between
the doctor and Mrs. Montagu, on account of the severity with
which, in that work, he had handled the character of Lord
Lyttelton. In September, 1783, however, Dr. Johnson wrote
to the lady to announce the death of her pensioner, Miss
Williams; and shortly afterwards he informs Mrs. Thrale that
he has received a reply “not only civil but tender; so I
hope peace is proclaimed.” Mrs. Montagu died at her house
in Portman Square, in the year 1800.—ED.]