of humility, as if an erroneous construction were liable to be put upon the civilities of a man of his character and eminence:—
London, March 8th, 1791.
My dear Sir,—It requires some apology to expect you to distribute the enclosed books.[1] I believe the persons to whom they are directed are all your friends. I am sorry to hear Lord Charlemont has been unwell, which gives real concern to all that know him. I am afraid to express my particular esteem and affection, as it would have an air of impertinent familiarity and equality; and, for another reason, shall say nothing regarding yourself for fear of the suspicion of being a toad-eater—a character for which we gentlemen about town have great abhorrence, and are apt to run too much on the other side in order to avoid it. However, I will venture to say thus much, that you are every day found wanting, and wished for back. And by nobody more than your very sincere friend and humble servant,
J. Reynolds.
To-day is Shrove-Tuesday, and no Johnson. I beg my most respectful compliments to Lord Sunderlin.
The allusion to the great moralist may imply that they had been accustomed to meet on that day, or, perhaps, to the slow advancement of his monument. Differences of opinion on that subject had arisen among the committee—namely, Burke, Sir Joshua Banks, Windham, Metcalfe, Boswell, and Malone—duly communicated to the latter while in Dublin. The site, Westminster Abbey, was to be relinquished for St. Paul’s, which, as he expressed it, was too modern—too cold and raw to lie in comfortably, but in a century or two hence, would look more habitable!
