29th.—Monsieur Julien, the assistant of Colnaghi, the print-seller, came with Geiseveiller to see my pictures. He formerly was an auctioneer in Paris; where he sold some famous collections. He praised quite enough; but the French and Italians think that is what politeness requires. Wrote additional verses to songs in the first act of the opera. Clementi and Geiseveiller to dinner. Conversed on health: I maintaining that exercise and moderate feeding were absolutely necessary for people of and after middle age.
30th.—Third act still under consideration. Nothing at Debrett’s, but the respite of Bond in Dublin. The papers state Farmer’s library to have sold for ——, and his pictures for 500l.—King, the auctioneer, informs me the first sum is accurate, but the pictures brought only 50l. I saw them. They were select rubbish: unauthenticated portraits by unknown painters. The sale of Farmer’s library astonished every body. His rule was not to exceed three shillings for any book; except once, when he paid three and six-pence for a pamphlet, which brought fifteen guineas in the sale. This anecdote I understood to be on the authority of Dr. Gosset, who is the most constant attendant at book sales of any man in England, booksellers not excepted.—Farmer collected all old pamphlets and black letter books, whenever he could pick them up cheap, and these were resold at enormous prices, not for the value of the information they conveyed, but their scarcity. I viewed them as they lay in the auction-room, and books and pictures seemed to be the very refuse of the stalls.
31st.—Finished Boswell’s Life of Johnson: the author still continuing a pompous egotist, servile, selfish, and cunning; as is evident from the documents and pictures he gives of himself; and defending and condemning, not according to any principles which his own experience and observation had taught, but in conformity to those opinions, whatever they might be, right or wrong, which might most probably ingratiate him with the powerful. As a piece of biography, it is a vile performance; but as a collection of materials, it is a mine. Called on B——. The head of Kemble painted by him for Desenfans is a fine likeness, and a good picture. Saw a pair of his landscapes, but indifferent performances. At one time he copied the old masters. One of these copies after Berghem, but in the style of Wouvermans, is a good imitation, penciled with great labour and exactness, but not with the freedom of an original. The subject, a man on a white Galloway, bird-catching; but the copy was not finished, nor the nets inserted.—Wilson, he says, was indolent, and, in his latter time, used to make several attempts at each touch, before his hand reached the precise place. In this manner a picture would remain several days on the easel, with but little apparent progress. If B—— be accurate, the colours on Wilson’s palette did not exceed four, and his common menstruum was linseed oil, instead of other oils eight or ten times as dear. He had much comic humour, would turn from his easel to the window, make whimsical remarks on the passengers, pause to recollect himself, and begin painting again. He was addicted to liquor, by which his nose became enlarged, and so irritable, that the handkerchief was frequently applied to it, and kept in his bosom for that purpose. Glad of every opportunity to escape from labour to his favourite indulgence, he would say to any acquaintance who happened to call, “Come, let us go and take a drop of something. I have painted enough for one day.” Farrington and Hodges were his pupils, and many of the pictures that pass for Wilson’s were painted by them, but retouched by himself. Thus the same picture became multiplied. He would even buy copies made from his pictures, work upon them and sell them as his own. To a certain degree they were such, but the practice was dishonest; for an unskilful eye could not detect the inferior parts. Arts like these are the ruin of honest and well-earned fame. Wilson, however, was a man of uncommon genius, of which he has left sufficient and undoubted proofs. He and Sir Joshua had conceived some ill-founded prejudices against each other. Under their influence, Sir Joshua once said, at the Academy, Gainsborough was the best English landscape-painter. Wilson, happening to be unperceived at his elbow, replied, “You mean the best English portrait-painter.” If it was not Opie, I forget who gave me this anecdote.
August 1st.—Proceed with Middleton’s Life of Cicero. It is full of information. Wrote a song to-day, “Dan Cupid, &c.” and a glee yesterday, of “Bitter pangs,” &c. for the opera. At Debrett’s, Mr Bouverie shewed me the Cambridge paper. Flower, the editor, is a zealot of a bold but honest character. By his paper, he must necessarily have made himself extremely obnoxious to persons in power. He unsparingly assails all whose creed or moral conduct he thinks reproachable. Godwin has been several times attacked in his paper, and probably myself. A letter, written from Ireland by a Colonel in the Guards, asserts, that the two O’Connors, Bond, and another, whose name I have forgotten, have consented to inform against the insurgents, and transport themselves from Ireland, on condition that the life of Bond be spared. Lord Thanet said, he had betted fifty guineas to half a crown, that this was a false assertion. I think myself certain he will win. A. O’Connor is a noble-minded man, or I am wretchedly mistaken, and it is said his brother Roger is even his superior. Met Mr G——, whom I informed that the comedy of “He’s Much to Blame” was written by me. He testified great satisfaction at the shame its success brought on my persecutors, and that the King, not knowing the author, had commanded it twice. Mentioned its great popularity among the country theatres; invited me to Turnham-Green, and I promised to dine there next Sunday se’nnight.
2nd.—Read Middleton. Wrote a song “The Fiat of Fate,” Act 3. Went to Debrett’s, read a high-flown complimentary letter, from some city volunteers, to Colonel ——, a bankrupt, persuading him to continue in their command, and describing him as an unfortunate man, but of exemplary worth. A—— remarked that the aristocrats of the corps, had thus stirred in his behalf, because he had gone through thick and thin to serve persons in power. Walked down Constitution-Hill, and wrote Clara’s two songs of the third act in the Park. Just as I finished, with my pencil in my hand, I saw I was observed by General F——. We know each other personally, but are not acquainted. Acquaintance indeed among persons of rank, I have very few. My feelings will not suffer me to be forward; and such persons are known only to the obtruding, or those who minister to their immediate pleasures and vices. Men of literature lay claim to honors, to which men of rank have but seldom any good pretensions; and both seem jealous of their individual prerogatives.
3rd.—Wrote Duet, Act 3. Worked at the opera. Asked Weld at Debrett’s if he knew Boswell. He had met him at coffee-houses, etc. where B—— used to drink hard and sit late. It was his custom during the sessions, to dine daily with the Judges, invited or not. He obtruded himself every where. Lowe (mentioned by him in his life of Johnson) once gave me a humourous picture of him. Lowe had requested Johnson to write him a letter, which Johnson did, and Boswell came in, while it was writing. His attention was immediately fixed, Lowe took the letter, retired, and was followed by Boswell. “Nothing,” said Lowe, “could surprise me more. Till that moment he had so entirely overlooked me, that I did not imagine he knew there was such a creature in existence; and he now accosted me with the most overstrained and insinuating compliments possible.” “How do you do, Mr Lowe? I hope you are very well, Mr Lowe. Pardon my freedom, Mr Lowe, but I think I saw my dear friend, Dr. Johnson, writing a letter for you”—“Yes, Sir”—“I hope you will not think me rude, but if it would not be too great a favor, you would infinitely oblige me, if you would just let me have a sight of it. Every thing from that hand, you know, is so inestimable.”—“Sir, it is on my own private affairs, but”—“I would not pry into a person’s affairs, my dear Mr Lowe; by any means. I am sure you would not accuse me of such a thing, only if it were no particular secret”—“Sir, you are welcome to read the letter.”—“I thank you, my dear Mr Lowe, you are very obliging, I take it exceedingly kind.” (having read) “It is nothing, I believe, Mr Lowe, that you would be ashamed of”—“Certainly not”—“Why then, my dear Sir, if you would do me another favour, you would make the obligation eternal. If you would but step to Peele’s coffee-house with me, and just suffer me to take a copy of it, I would do any thing in my power to oblige you.”—“I was overcome,” said Lowe, “by this sudden familiarity and condescension, accompanied with bows and grimaces. I had no power to refuse; we went to the coffee-house, my letter was presently transcribed, and as soon as he had put his document in his pocket, Mr Boswell walked away, as erect and as proud as he was half an hour before, and I ever afterward was unnoticed. Nay, I am not certain,” added he, sarcastically, “whether the Scotchman did not leave me, poor as he knew I was, to pay for my own dish of coffee.”
4th.—Continued the opera through scene 9, Act 3. Colonel Barry at Debrett’s, returned from Ireland: rejoiced to see each other. Spoke of Ireland as subdued by the divisions which government had found the means to create, and chiefly by the aid of the native yeomanry. Read reviews and magazines.
5th.—Corrected scene 10. Wrote song for Florid. Called on N——, who had been sent for by the Duchess of D——; she broke her appointment, made another, and broke that, with a note apologising, and desiring he would come again, and bring a copy of his very excellent journal. This a good deal resembles scenes I had with her in 1783, except that I made application to her (for recommendatory letters to our ambassador at Paris) which Mr N—— did not. Pinkerton, Godwin, Stoddart, and J Parry, to dinner. Stoddart, as usual, acute, but pertinacious and verbose. Godwin clear, and concise.
6th.—Proceeded with the opera. Walked an hour. Returned and finished it. Nothing at Debrett’s. Have read Monthly Magazine and Review for some days. Individually, the numbers of such works appear dull: collectively, they afterwards become highly amusing.
7th.—Read and sent the opera to Mr Harris, with a letter. Walked to Godwin. He proceeds with his novel. Gave a favourable account of Fenwick’s pamphlet on Coigley.