Johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these circles, and did not think himself too grave even for the lively Miss Monckton[349] (now Countess of Corke), who used to have the finest bit of blue at the house of her mother, Lady Galway.  Her vivacity enchanted the Sage, and they used to talk together with all imaginable ease.  A singular instance happened one evening, when she insisted that some of Sterne’s writings were very pathetick.  Johnson bluntly denied it.  ’I am sure (said she) they have affected me.’  ’Why (said Johnson, smiling, and rolling himself about,) that is, because, dearest, you’re a dunce[350].’  When she some time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said with equal truth and politeness; ’Madam, if I had thought so, I certainly should not have said it.’

Another evening Johnson’s kind indulgence towards me had a pretty difficult trial.  I had dined at the Duke of Montrose’s with a very agreeable party, and his Grace, according to his usual custom, had circulated the bottle very freely.  Lord Graham[351] and I went together to Miss Monckton’s, where I certainly was in extraordinary spirits, and above all fear or awe.  In the midst of a great number of persons of the first rank, amongst whom I recollect with confusion, a noble lady of the most stately decorum, I placed myself next to Johnson, and thinking myself now fully his match, talked to him in a loud and boisterous manner, desirous to let the company know how I could contend with Ajax.  I particularly remember pressing him upon the value of the pleasures of the imagination, and as an illustration of my argument, asking him, ’What, Sir, supposing I were to fancy that the—­(naming the most charming Duchess in his Majesty’s dominions) were in love with me, should I not be very happy?’ My friend with much address evaded my interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as possible; but it may easily be conceived how he must have felt[352].  However, when a few days afterwards I waited upon him and made an apology, he behaved with the most friendly gentleness[353].

While I remained in London this year[354], Johnson and I dined together at several places.  I recollect a placid day at Dr. Butter’s[355], who had now removed from Derby to Lower Grosvenor-street, London; but of his conversation on that and other occasions during this period, I neglected to keep any regular record[356], and shall therefore insert here some miscellaneous articles which I find in my Johnsonian notes.

His disorderly habits, when ’making provision for the day that was passing over him[357],’ appear from the following anecdote, communicated to me by Mr. John Nichols:—­’In the year 1763, a young bookseller, who was an apprentice to Mr. Whiston, waited on him with a subscription to his Shakspeare:  and observing that the Doctor made no entry in any book of the subscriber’s name, ventured diffidently to ask, whether he would please to have the gentleman’s address, that it might be properly inserted in the printed list of subscribers. ’I shall print no list of subscribers;’ said Johnson, with great abruptness:  but almost immediately recollecting himself, added, very complacently, ’Sir, I have two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers;—­one, that I have lost all the names,—­the other, that I have spent all the money.’