“Is it possible that he has been in communication with you, Dr. Goldsmith?” he cried anxiously.
“I will not divulge Dr. Johnson's secrets, sir,” replied Goldsmith, with an affectation of the manner of the man who a short time before had said that Shakespeare was pompous.
“Now you are imitating him,” said Boswell. “But I perceive that he has told you of our quarrel—our misunderstanding. It arose through you, sir.”
“Through me, sir?”
“Through the visit of your relative, the Dean, after we had dined at the Crown and Anchor. You see, he bound me down to promise him to tell no one of that unhappy occurrence, sir; and yet he heard that Garrick has lately been mimicking the Dean—yes, down to his very words, at the Reynolds's, and so he came to the conclusion that Garrick was made acquainted with the whole story by me. He sent for me yesterday, and upbraided me for half an hour.”
“To whom did you give an account of the affair, sir?”
“To no human being, sir.”
“Oh, come now, you must have given it to some one.”
“To no one, sir—that is, no one from whom Garrick could possibly have had the story.”
“Ah, I knew, and so did Johnson, that it would be out of the question to expect that you would hold your tongue on so interesting a secret. Well, perhaps this will be a lesson to you in the future. I must not fail to make an entire chapter of this in my biography of our great friend. Perhaps you would do me the favour to write down a clear and as nearly accurate an account as your pride will allow of your quarrel with the Doctor, sir. Such an account would be an amazing assistance to posterity in forming an estimate of the character of Johnson.”