le crois pas.  Ce n’est pas Monsieur Garrick, ce Grand Homme!’ Garrick added, with an appearance of grave recollection, ’If I were to begin life again, I think I should not play those low characters.’  Upon which I observed, ’Sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great excellence is your variety of playing, your representing so well, characters so very different.’  Johnson.  ’Garrick, Sir, was not in earnest in what he said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is his variety; and, perhaps, there is not any one character which has not been as well acted by somebody else, as he could do it.’  Boswell.  ’Why then, Sir, did he talk so?’ Johnson.  ‘Why, Sir, to make you answer as you did.’  Boswell.  ’I don’t know, Sir; he seemed to dip deep into his mind for the reflection.’  Johnson.  ’He had not far to dip, Sir:  he said the same thing, probably, twenty times before.’

Of a nobleman raised at a very early period to high office, he said, ’His parts, Sir, are pretty well for a Lord; but would not be distinguished in a man who had nothing else but his parts.’

A journey to Italy was still in his thoughts.  He said, ’A man who has not been in Italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see.  The grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the Mediterranean.  On those shores were the four great Empires of the world; the Assyrian, the Persian, the Grecian, and the Roman.—­All our religion, almost all our law, almost all our arts, almost all that sets us above savages, has come to us from the shores of the Mediterranean.’  The General observed, that ’the Mediterranean would be a noble subject for a poem.’

We talked of translation.  I said, I could not define it, nor could I think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it appeared to me the translation of poetry could be only imitation.  Johnson.  ’You may translate books of science exactly.  You may also translate history, in so far as it is not embellished with oratory, which is poetical.  Poetry, indeed, cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preserve languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language, if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation.  But as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language.’

’Goldsmith (he said,) referred every thing to vanity; his virtues, and his vices too, were from that motive.  He was not a social man.  He never exchanged mind with you.’

We spent the evening at Mr. Hoole’s.  Mr. Mickle, the excellent translator of The Lusiad, was there.  I have preserved little of the conversation of this evening.  Dr. Johnson said, ’Thomson had a true poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a poetical light.  His fault is such a cloud of words sometimes, that the sense can hardly peep through.  Shiels, who compiled Cibber’s Lives of the Poets, was one day sitting with me.  I took down Thomson, and read aloud a large portion of him, and then asked,—­Is not this fine?  Shiels having expressed the highest admiration.  Well, Sir, (said I,) I have omitted every other line.’