The entry of the distinguished guest caused a general rearrangement; the company fell into new groups and knots of talkers, just as the kaleidoscope will scatter its fragments, to re-form into some fresh design. Mr. Mayne walked forward to receive him, for the Doctor was here at his invitation, and then Clare saw Sir Joshua Reynolds in his wake. The actors and actresses closed round Doctor Johnson, for he was a great favourite with them, often frequenting the Green Room, being very easy and facetious, in their company. So for a time the ungainly figure, moving with a constant roll of the head, was hid from Clare’s view; but she heard his voice uttering characteristic phrases of astonishing finality. When he spoke, you wondered if there could be anything more to be said on that subject, ever again, by anybody. There dwelt the apotheosis of the pûnkt finale in his speech. Oliver Goldsmith said of him, “It is ill arguing with Doctor Johnson; though you may be in the right, he worsts you. If his pistol misses fire, he clubs his opponent over the head with the butt-end of it.”
Here are only some of his many utterances recorded for us by Boswell. I will tell you a few.
His profound reverence for the hierarchy made him expect from Bishops the highest degree of decorum. He was offended even at their going to restaurants, or taverns, as they were then called.
Reynolds.
SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS.
“A Bishop, Sir, has nothing to do at a tippling-house. It is not, indeed, immoral in him to go to a tavern, neither would it be immoral in him to whip a top in Grosvenor Square.”
Mrs. Thrale, a friend of his, once gave high praise to an acquaintance.
“Nay, my dear lady, don’t talk so. Mr. Long’s character is very short. He is a man of genteel appearance. He fills a chair. That is all.”
He was chilled by wordy enthusiasm. He knew it to be possible to blast by praise.