g," and so left the room. Our companion looked confounded,
and I believe had scarce recovered the consciousness of his own
existence, when Johnson came back, and drawing his chair among us, with
altered looks and a softened voice, joined in the general chat,
insensibly led the conversation to the subject of marriage, where he laid
himself out in a dissertation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the
true knowledge of human life, and so adorned with beauty of sentiment,
that no one ever recollected the offence, except to rejoice in its
consequences. He repented just as certainly, however, if he had been led
to praise any person or thing by accident more than he thought it
deserved; and was on such occasions comically earnest to destroy the
praise or pleasure he had unintentionally given.

Sir Joshua Reynolds mentioned some picture as excellent. "It has often
grieved me, sir," said Mr. Johnson, "to see so much mind as the science
of painting requires laid out upon such perishable materials. Why do not
you oftener make use of copper? I could wish your superiority in the art
you profess to be preserved in stuff more durable than canvas." Sir
Joshua urged the difficulty of procuring a plate large enough for
historical subjects, and was going to raise further observations. "What
foppish obstacles are these!" exclaims on a sudden Dr. Johnson. "Here is
Thrale has a thousand tun of copper; you may paint it all round if you
will, I suppose; it will serve him to brew in afterwards. Will it not,
sir?" (to my husband, who sat by). Indeed, Dr. Johnson's utter scorn of
painting was such that I have heard him say that he should sit very
quietly in a room hung round with the works of the greatest masters, and
never feel the slightest disposition to turn them if their backs were
outermost, unless it might be for the sake of telling Sir Joshua that he
_had_ turned them. Such speeches may appear offensive to many, but those
who knew he was too blind to discern the perfections of an art which
applies itself immediately to our eyesight must acknowledge he was not in
the wrong.

He delighted no more in music than in painting; he was almost as deaf as
he was blind; travelling with Dr. Johnson was for these reasons tiresome
enough. Mr. Thrale loved prospects, and was mortified that his friend
could not enjoy the sight of those different dispositions of wood and
water, hill and valley, that travelling through England and France
aff