Still, Wilkes was good company and frequented London's best dinner tables. But Edward Dilly, the bookseller, was careful not to invite him with Johnson - until the mischievous Boswell proposed just that. Dilly was horrified, but Boswell promised to arrange it.
Boswell: "Mr Dilly, Sir, send his respectful compliments," and would Johnson be so good as to dine at his house Wednesday next? He would. Boswell: "Provided, Sir, I suppose, that the company... is agreeable?" What if Mr Dilly asked some of his patriotic friends - for instance, Jack Wilkes? "What is that to me, Sir?" Johnson said huffily. "As if I could not meet any company whatever, occasionally."
Wednesday (15 May, 1776) came, and at dinner Wilkes seated himself next to Johnson. He was determined to please. "Pray, give me leave, Sir," he said, carving Johnson a juicy slice of veal, and then, "a little of the stuffing - some gravy... a squeeze of this orange, or the lemon, perhaps?" Johnson's surly response gradually softened. The names of common acquaintances came up, and Wilkes scoffed at those he knew Johnson to have mocked, but the latter would let no one speak ill of his friends but himself. Of Scotland, however - that was another matter. Boswell had taken him there - a barren place! Johnson and Wilkes began sparring with gibes against Scotland. Poor Boswell, Johnson said, hardly knew real civility for living among savages in Scotland and rakes in London. Wilkes beamed. "Except," he said, "when he is with grave, sober, decent people, like you and me"