Chapter XIV: Part 14

At Sir Alexander Dick's, from that absence of mind to which every man is at times subject, I told, in a blundering manner, Lady Eglingtoune's complimentary adoption of Dr. Johnson as her son; for I unfortunately stated that her ladyship adopted him as her son, in consequence of her having been married the year _after_ he was born. Dr. Johnson instantly corrected me. 'Sir, don't you perceive that you are defaming the countess? For, supposing me to be her son, and that she was not married till the year after my birth, I must have been her _natural_ son.' A young lady of quality, who was present, very handsomely said, 'Might not the son have justified the fault?' My friend was much flattered by this compliment, which he never forgot. When in more than ordinary spirits, and talking of his journey in Scotland, he has called to me, 'Boswell, what was it that the young lady of quality said of me at Sir Alexander Dick's ?' Nobody will doubt that I was happy in repeating it.

My illustrious friend, being now desirous to be again in the great theatre of life and animated exertion, took a place in the coach, which was to set out for London on Monday the 22nd of November[1109]. Sir John Dalrymple pressed him to come on the Saturday before, to his house at Cranston, which being twelve miles from Edinburgh, upon the middle road to Newcastle, (Dr. Johnson had come to Edinburgh by Berwick, and along the naked coast[1110],) it would make his journey easier, as the coach would take him up at a more seasonable hour than that at which it sets out. Sir John, I perceived, was ambitious of having such a guest; but, as I was well assured, that at this very time he had joined with some of his prejudiced countrymen in railing at Dr. Johnson[1111], and had said, he 'wondered how any gentleman of Scotland could keep company with him,' I thought he did not deserve the honour: yet, as it might be a convenience to Dr. Johnson, I contrived that he should accept the invitation, and engaged to conduct him. I resolved that, on our way to Sir John's, we should make a little circuit by Roslin Castle, and Hawthornden, and wished to set out soon after breakfast; but young Mr. Tytler came to shew Dr. Johnson some essays which he had written; and my great friend, who was exceedingly obliging when thus consulted[1112], was detained so long, that it was, I believe, one o'clock before we got into our post-chaise. I found that we should be too late for dinner at Sir John Dalrymple's, to which we were engaged: but I would by no means lose the pleasure of seeing my friend at Hawthornden,--of seeing _Sam Johnson_ at the very spot where _Ben Jonson_ visited the learned and poetical Drummond[1113].

We surveyed Roslin Castle, the romantick scene around it, and the beautiful Gothick chapel[1114], and dined and drank tea at the inn; after which we proceeded to Hawthornden, and viewed the caves; and I all the while had _Rare Ben_[1115] in my mind, and was pleased to think that this place was now visited by another celebrated wit of England.

By this time 'the waning night was growing old,' and we were yet several miles from Sir John Dalrymple's. Dr. Johnson did not seem much troubled at our having treated the baronet with so little attention to politeness; but when I talked of the grievous disappointment it must have been to him that we did not come to the _feast_ that he had prepared for us, (for he told us he had killed a seven-year old sheep on purpose,) my friend got into a merry mood, and jocularly said, 'I dare say, Sir, he has been very sadly distressed: Nay, we do not know but the consequence may have been fatal. Let me try to describe his situation in his own historical style, I have as good a right to make him think and talk, as he has to tell us how people thought and talked a hundred years ago, of which he has no evidence. All history, so far as it is not supported by contemporary evidence, is romance[1116]--Stay now.--Let us consider!' He then (heartily laughing all the while) proceeded in his imitation, I am sure to the following effect, though now, at the distance of almost twelve years, I cannot pretend to recollect all the precise words:--

'Dinner being ready, he wondered that his guests were not yet come. His wonder was soon succeeded by impatience. He walked about the room in anxious agitation; sometimes he looked at his watch, sometimes he looked out at the window with an eager gaze of expectation, and revolved in his mind the various accidents of human life. His family beheld him with mute concern. "Surely (said he, with a sigh,) they will not fail me." The mind of man can bear a certain pressure; but there is a point when it can bear no more. A rope was in his view, and he died a Roman death[1117].

It was very late before we reached the seat of Sir John Dalrymple, who, certainly with some reason, was not in very good humour. Our conversation was not brilliant. We supped, and went to bed in ancient rooms, which would have better suited the climate of Italy in summer, than that of Scotland in the month of November.

I recollect no conversation of the next day, worth preserving, except one saying of Dr. Johnson, which will be a valuable text for many decent old dowagers, and other good company, in various circles to descant upon. He said, 'I am sorry I have not learnt to play at cards. It is very useful in life: it generates kindness, and consolidates society[1118].' He certainly could not mean deep play.

My friend and I thought we should be more comfortable at the inn at Blackshields, two miles farther on. We therefore went thither in the evening, and he was very entertaining; but I have preserved nothing but the pleasing remembrance, and his verses on George the Second and Cibber[1119], and his epitaph on Parnell[1120], which he was then so good as to dictate to me. We breakfasted together next morning, and then the coach came, and took him up. He had, as one of his companions in it, as far as Newcastle, the worthy and ingenious Dr. Hope, botanical professor at Edinburgh. Both Dr. Johnson and he used to speak of their good fortune in thus accidentally meeting; for they had much instructive conversation, which is always a most valuable enjoyment, and, when found where it is not expected, is peculiarly relished.

I have now completed my account of our Tour to the Hebrides. I have brought Dr. Johnson down to Scotland, and seen him into the coach which in a few hours carried him back into England. He said to me often, that the time he spent in this Tour was the pleasantest part of his life[1121], and asked me if I would lose the recollection of it for five hundred pounds. I answered I would not; and he applauded my setting such a value on an accession of new images in my mind[1122].

Had it not been for me, I am persuaded Dr. Johnson never would have undertaken such a journey; and I must be allowed to assume some merit from having been the cause that our language has been enriched with such a book as that which he published on his return; a book which I never read but with the utmost admiration, as I had such opportunities of knowing from what very meagre materials it was composed.

But my praise may be supposed partial; and therefore I shall insert two testimonies, not liable to that objection, both written by gentlemen of Scotland, to whose opinions I am confident the highest respect will be paid, Lord Hailes[1123], and Mr. Dempster[1124]. 'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'SIR,

'I have received much pleasure and much instruction, from perusing _The Journey to the Hebrides_.

'I admire the elegance and variety of description, and the lively picture of men and manners. I always approve of the moral, often of the political, reflections. I love the benevolence of the authour.

'They who search for faults, may possibly find them in this, as well as in every other work of literature.

'For example, the friends of the old family say that _the aera of planting_ is placed too late, at the Union of the two kingdoms[1125]. I am known to be no friend of the old family; yet I would place the aera of planting at the Restoration; after the murder of Charles I. had been expiated in the anarchy which succeeded it.

'Before the Restoration, few trees were planted, unless by the monastick drones: their successors, (and worthy patriots they were,) the barons, first cut down the trees, and then sold the estates. The gentleman at St. Andrews, who said that there were but two trees in Fife[1126], ought to have added, that the elms of Balmerino[1127] were sold within these twenty years, to make pumps for the fire-engines.

'In J. Major de _Gestis Scotorum_, L. i. C. 2. last edition, there is a singular passage:--

'"Davidi Cranstoneo conterraneo, dum de prima theologiae licentia foret, duo ei consocii et familiares, et mei cum eo in artibus auditores, scilicet Jacobus Almain Senonensis, et Petrus Bruxcellensis, Praedicatoris ordinis, in Sorbonae curia die Sorbonico commilitonibus suis publice objecerunt, _quod pane avenaceo plebeii Scoti_, sicut a quodam religioso intellexerant, _vescebantur, ut virum, quem cholericum noverant, honestis salibus tentarent, qui hoc inficiari tanquam patriae dedecus nisus est_."

'Pray introduce our countryman, Mr. Licentiate David Cranston, to the acquaintance of Mr. Johnson.

'The syllogism seems to have been this:

'They who feed on oatmeal are barbarians;
But the Scots feed on oatmeal:
Ergo--

The licentiate denied the _minor_,

I am, Sir,
Your most obedient servant,
'DAV. DALRYMPLE.'

'Newhailes, 6th Feb. 1775.'

To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ., EDINBURGH.
Dunnichen, 16th February, 1775.

'MY DEAR BOSWELL,

'I cannot omit a moment to return you my best thanks for the entertainment you have furnished me, my family, and guests, by the perusal of Dr. Johnson's _Journey to the Western Islands_; and now for my sentiments of it. I was well entertained. His descriptions are accurate and vivid. He carried me on the Tour along with him. I am pleased with the justice he has done to your humour and vivacity. "The noise of the wind being all its own," is a _bon-mot_, that it would have been a pity to have omitted, and a robbery not to have ascribed to its author[1128].

'There is nothing in the book, from beginning to end, that a Scotchman need to take amiss[1129]. What he says of the country is true, and his observations on the people are what must naturally occur to a sensible, observing, and reflecting inhabitant of a _convenient_ Metropolis, where a man on thirty pounds a year may be better accommodated with all the little wants of life, than _Col._ or _Sir Allan_. He reasons candidly about the _second sight_; but I wish he had enquired more, before he ventured to say he even doubted of the possibility of such an unusual and useless deviation from all the known laws of nature[1130]. The notion of the second sight I consider as a remnant of superstitious ignorance and credulity, which a philosopher will set down as such, till the contrary is clearly proved, and then it will be classed among the other certain, though unaccountable parts of our nature, like dreams[1131], and-I do not know what. 'In regard to the language, it has the merit of being all his own. Many words of foreign extraction are used, where, I believe, common ones would do as well, especially on familiar occasions. Yet I believe he could not express himself so forcibly in any other stile. I am charmed with his researches concerning the Erse language, and the antiquity of their manuscripts. I am quite convinced; and I shall rank _Ossian_, and his _Fingals_ and _Oscars_, amongst the Nursery Tales, not the true history of our country, in all time to come.

'Upon the whole, the book cannot displease, for it has no pretensions. The author neither says he is a Geographer, nor an Antiquarian, nor very learned in the History of Scotland, nor a Naturalist, nor a Fossilist[1132]. The manners of the people, and the face of the country, are all he attempts to describe, or seems to have thought of. Much were it to be wished, that they who have travelled into more remote, and of course, more curious, regions, had all possessed his good sense. Of the state of learning, his observations on Glasgow University[1133] shew he has formed a very sound judgement. He understands our climate too, and he has accurately observed the changes, however slow and imperceptible to us, which Scotland has undergone, in consequence of the blessings of liberty and internal peace. I could have drawn my pen through the story of the old woman at St. Andrews, being the only silly thing in the book[1134]. He has taken the opportunity of ingrafting into the work several good observations, which I dare say he had made upon men and things, before he set foot on Scotch ground, by which it is considerably enriched[1135]. A long journey, like a tall May-pole, though not very beautiful itself, yet is pretty enough, when ornamented with flowers and garlands; it furnishes a sort of cloak-pins for hanging the furniture of your mind upon; and whoever sets out upon a journey, without furnishing his mind previously with much study and useful knowledge, erects a May-pole in December, and puts up very useless cloak-pins[1136].

'I hope the book will induce many of his countrymen to make the same jaunt, and help to intermix the more liberal part of them still more with us, and perhaps abate somewhat of that virulent antipathy which many of them entertain against the Scotch: who certainly would never have formed those _combinations_[1137] which he takes notice of, more than their ancestors, had they not been necessary for their mutual safety, at least for their success, in a country where they are treated as foreigners. They would find us not deficient, at least in point of hospitality, and they would be ashamed ever after to abuse us in the mass.

'So much for the Tour. I have now, for the first time in my life, passed a winter in the country; and never did three months roll on with more swiftness and satisfaction. I used not only to wonder at, but pity, those whose lot condemned them to winter any where but in either of the capitals. But every place has its charms to a cheerful mind. I am busy planting and taking measures for opening the summer campaign in farming; and I find I have an excellent resource, when revolutions in politicks perhaps, and revolutions of the sun for certain, will make it decent for me to retreat behind the ranks of the more forward in life.

'I am glad to hear the last was a very busy week with you. I see you as counsel in some causes which must have opened a charming field for your humourous vein. As it is more uncommon, so I verily believe it is more useful than the more serious exercise of reason; and, to a man who is to appear in publick, more eclat is to be gained, sometimes more money too, by a _bon-mot_, than a learned speech. It is the fund of natural humour which Lord North possesses, that makes him so much the favourite of the house, and so able, because so amiable, a leader of a party[1138].

'I have now finished _my_ Tour of _Seven Pages_. In what remains, I beg leave to offer my compliments, and those of _ma tres chere femme_, to you and Mrs. Boswell. Pray unbend the busy brow, and frolick a little in a letter to,

'My dear Boswell,

'Your affectionate friend,

'GEORGE DEMPSTER[1139].'

I shall also present the publick with a correspondence with the Laird of Rasay, concerning a passage in the _Journey to the_ Western Islands, which shews Dr. Johnson in a very amiable light.

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'Rasay, April 10th, 1775.

'DEAR SIR,

'I take this occasion of returning you my most hearty thanks for the civilities shewn to my daughter by you and Mrs. Boswell. Yet, though she has informed me that I am under this obligation, I should very probably have deferred troubling you with making my acknowledgments at present, if I had not seen Dr. Johnson's _Journey to the Western Isles_, in which he has been pleased to make a very friendly mention of my family, for which I am surely obliged to him, as being more than an equivalent for the reception you and he met with. Yet there is one paragraph I should have been glad he had omitted, which I am sure was owing to misinformation; that is, that I had acknowledged McLeod to be my chief, though my ancestors disputed the pre-eminence for a long tract of time.

'I never had occasion to enter seriously on this argument with the present laird or his grandfather, nor could I have any temptation to such a renunciation from either of them. I acknowledge, the benefit of being chief of a clan is in our days of very little significancy, and to trace out the progress of this honour to the founder of a family, of any standing, would perhaps be a matter of some difficulty.

'The true state of the present case is this: the McLeod family consists of two different branches; the M'Leods of Lewis, of which I am descended, and the M'Leods of Harris. And though the former have lost a very extensive estate by forfeiture in king James the Sixth's time, there are still several respectable families of it existing, who would justly blame me for such an unmeaning cession, when they all acknowledge me head of that family; which though in fact it be but an ideal point of honour, is not hitherto so far disregarded in our country, but it would determine some of my friends to look on me as a much smaller man than either they or myself judge me at present to be. I will, therefore, ask it as a favour of you to acquaint the Doctor with the difficulty he has brought me to. In travelling among rival clans, such a silly tale as this might easily be whispered into the ear of a passing stranger; but as it has no foundation in fact, I hope the Doctor will be so good as to take his own way in undeceiving the publick, I principally mean my friends and connections, who will be first angry at me, and next sorry to find such an instance of my littleness recorded in a book which has a very fair chance of being much read. I expect you will let me know what he will write you in return, and we here beg to make offer to you and Mrs. Boswell of our most respectful compliments.

'I am,

'Dear Sir,

'Your most obedient humble servant,

'JOHN M'LEOD.'

* * * * *

'TO THE LAIRD OF RASAY.

'London, May 8, 1775.

'DEAR SIR,

'The day before yesterday I had the honour to receive your letter, and I immediately communicated it to Dr. Johnson. He said he loved your spirit, and was exceedingly sorry that he had been the cause of the smallest uneasiness to you. There is not a more candid man in the world than he is, when properly addressed, as you will see from his letter to you, which I now enclose. He has allowed me to take a copy of it, and he says you may read it to your clan, or publish it if you please. Be assured, Sir, that I shall take care of what he has entrusted to me, which is to have an acknowledgement of his errour inserted in the Edinburgh newspapers. You will, I dare say, be fully satisfied with Dr. Johnson's behaviour. He is desirous to know that you are; and therefore when you have read his acknowledgement in the papers, I beg you may write to me; and if you choose it, I am persuaded a letter from you to the Doctor also will be taken kind. I shall be at Edinburgh the week after next.

'Any civilities which my wife and I had in our power to shew to your daughter, Miss M'Leod, were due to her own merit, and were well repaid by her agreeable company. But I am sure I should be a very unworthy man if I did not wish to shew a grateful sense of the hospitable and genteel manner in which you were pleased to treat me. Be assured, my dear Sir, that I shall never forget your goodness, and the happy hours which I spent in Rasay.

'You and Dr. M'Leod were both so obliging as to promise me an account in writing, of all the particulars which each of you remember, concerning the transactions of 1745-6. Pray do not forget this, and be as minute and full as you can; put down every thing; I have a great curiosity to know as much as I can, authentically.

'I beg that you may present my best respects to Lady Rasay, my compliments to your young family, and to Dr. M'Leod; and my hearty good wishes to Malcolm, with whom I hope again to shake hands cordially. I have the honour to be,

'Dear Sir,

'Your obliged and faithful humble servant,

'JAMES BOSWELL.' ADVERTISEMENT, written by Dr. Johnson, and inserted by his desire in the Edinburgh newspapers:--Referred to in the foregoing letter[1140].

_'THE authour of the_ Journey to the Western Islands, _having related that the M'Leods of Rasay acknowledge the chieftainship or superiority of the M'Leods of Sky, finds that he has been misinformed or mistaken. He means in a future edition to correct his errour[1141], and wishes to be told of more, if more have been discovered.'_

Dr. Johnson's letter was as follows:--

'To THE LAIRD OF RASAY.

'DEAR SIR,

'Mr. Boswell has this day shewn me a letter, in which you complain of a passage in _The Journey to the Hebrides._ My meaning is mistaken. I did not intend to say that you had personally made any cession of the rights of your house, or any acknowledgement of the superiority of M'Leod of Dunvegan. I only designed to express what I thought generally admitted,--that the house of Rasay allowed the superiority of the house of Dunvegan. Even this I now find to be erroneous, and will therefore omit or retract it in the next edition.

'Though what I had said had been true, if it had been disagreeable to you, I should have wished it unsaid; for it is not my business to adjust precedence. As it is mistaken, I find myself disposed to correct, both by my respect for you, and my reverence for truth. 'As I know not when the book will be reprinted, I have desired Mr. Boswell to anticipate the correction in the Edinburgh papers. This is all that can be done.

'I hope I may now venture to desire that my compliments may be made, and my gratitude expressed, to Lady Rasay, Mr. Malcolm M'Leod, Mr. Donald M'Queen, and all the gentlemen and all the ladies whom I saw in the island of Rasay; a place which I remember with too much pleasure and too much kindness, not to be sorry that my ignorance, or hasty persuasion, should, for a single moment, have violated its tranquillity.

'I beg you all to forgive an undesigned and involuntary injury, and to consider me as,

'Sir, your most obliged,

'And most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON[1142].'

'London, May 6, 1775.'

It would be improper for me to boast of my own labours; but I cannot refrain from publishing such praise as I received from such a man as Sir William Forbes, of Pitsligo, after the perusal of the original manuscript of my _Journal_[1143].

'To JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'Edinburgh, March 7, 1777.

'My DEAR SIR,

'I ought to have thanked you sooner, for your very obliging letter, and for the singular confidence you are pleased to place in me, when you trust me with such a curious and valuable deposit as the papers you have sent me[1144]. Be assured I have a due sense of this favour, and shall faithfully and carefully return them to you. You may rely that I shall neither copy any part, nor permit the papers to be seen.

'They contain a curious picture of society, and form a journal on the most instructive plan that can possibly be thought of; for I am not sure that an ordinary observer would become so well acquainted either with Dr. Johnson, or with the manners of the Hebrides, by a personal intercourse, as by a perusal of your _Journal_.

'I am, very truly,

'Dear Sir,

'Your most obedient,

'And affectionate humble servant,

'WILLIAM FORBES.'

When I consider how many of the persons mentioned in this Tour are now gone to 'that undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller returns[1145],' I feel an impression at once awful and tender.--_Requiescant in pace!_

It may be objected by some persons, as it has been by one of my friends, that he who has the power of thus exhibiting an exact transcript of conversations is not a desirable member of society. I repeat the answer which I made to that friend:--'Few, very few, need be afraid that their sayings will be recorded. Can it be imagined that I would take the trouble to gather what grows on every hedge, because I have collected such fruits as the _Nonpareil_ and the BON CHRETIEN[1146]?'

On the other hand, how useful is such a faculty, if well exercised! To it we owe all those interesting apophthegms and _memorabilia_ of the ancients, which Plutarch, Xenophon, and Valerius Maximus, have transmitted to us. To it we owe all those instructive and entertaining collections which the French have made under the title of _Ana_, affixed to some celebrated name. To it we owe the _Table-Talk_ of Selden[1147], the _Conversation_ between Ben Jonson and Drummond of Hawthornden, Spence's _Anecdotes_ of Pope[1148], and other valuable remains in our own language. How delighted should we have been, if thus introduced into the company of Shakspeare and of Dryden[1149], of whom we know scarcely any thing but their admirable writings! What pleasure would it have given us, to have known their petty habits, their characteristick manners, their modes of composition, and their genuine opinion of preceding writers and of their contemporaries! All these are now irrecoverably lost. Considering how many of the strongest and most brilliant effusions of exalted intellect must have perished, how much is it to be regretted that all men of distinguished wisdom and wit have not been attended by friends, of taste enough to relish, and abilities enough to register their conversation;

'Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi, sed omnes illacrymabiles
Urgentur, ignotique longa
Nocte, carent quia vate sacro[1150].'

They whose inferiour exertions are recorded, as serving to explain or illustrate the sayings of such men, may be proud of being thus associated, and of their names being transmitted to posterity, by being appended to an illustrious character.

Before I conclude, I think it proper to say, that I have suppressed[1151] every thing which I thought could _really_ hurt any one now living. Vanity and self-conceit indeed may sometimes suffer. With respect to what _is_ related, I considered it my duty to 'extenuate nothing, nor set down aught in malice[1152];' and with those lighter strokes of Dr. Johnson's satire, proceeding from a warmth and quickness of imagination, not from any malevolence of heart, and which, on account of their excellence, could not be omitted, I trust that they who are the subject of them have good sense and good temper enough not to be displeased.

I have only to add, that I shall ever reflect with great pleasure on a Tour, which has been the means of preserving so much of the enlightened and instructive conversation of one whose virtues will, I hope, ever be an object of imitation, and whose powers of mind were so extraordinary, that ages may revolve before such a man shall again appear.

APPENDIX.

No. I.

_In justice to the ingenious_ DR. BLACKLOCK, _I publish the following letter from him, relative to a passage in p. 47._

'TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ.

'DEAR SIR,

'Having lately had the pleasure of reading your account of the journey which you took with Dr. Samuel Johnson to the Western Isles, I take the liberty of transmitting my ideas of the conversation which happened between the doctor and myself concerning Lexicography and Poetry, which, as it is a little different from the delineation exhibited in the former edition of your _Journal_, cannot, I hope, be unacceptable; particularly since I have been informed that a second edition of that work is now in contemplation, if not in execution: and I am still more strongly tempted to encourage that hope, from considering that, if every one concerned in the conversations related, were to send you what they can recollect of these colloquial entertainments, many curious and interesting particulars might be recovered, which the most assiduous attention could not observe, nor the most tenacious memory retain. A little reflection, Sir, will convince you, that there is not an axiom in Euclid more intuitive nor more evident than the doctor's assertion that poetry was of much easier execution than lexicography. Any mind therefore endowed with common sense, must have been extremely absent from itself, if it discovered the least astonishment from hearing that a poem might be written with much more facility than the same quantity of a dictionary.

'The real cause of my surprise was what appeared to me much more paradoxical, that he could write a sheet of dictionary _with as much pleasure_ as a sheet of poetry. He acknowledged, indeed, that the latter was much easier than the former. For in the one case, books and a desk were requisite; in the other, you might compose when lying in bed, or walking in the fields, &c. He did not, however, descend to explain, nor to this moment can I comprehend, how the labours of a mere Philologist, in the most refined sense of that term, could give equal pleasure with the exercise of a mind replete with elevated conceptions and pathetic ideas, while taste, fancy, and intellect were deeply enamoured of nature, and in full exertion. You may likewise, perhaps, remember, that when I complained of the ground which Scepticism in religion and morals was continually gaining, it did not appear to be on my own account, as my private opinions upon these important subjects had long been inflexibly determined. What I then deplored, and still deplore, was the unhappy influence which that gloomy hesitation had, not only upon particular characters, but even upon life in general; as being equally the bane of action in our present state, and of such consolations as we might derive from the hopes of a future.

'I have the pleasure of remaining with sincere esteem and respect,

'Dear Sir,

'Your most obedient humble servant,

'THOMAS BLACKLOCK.'

'Edinburgh, Nov. 12, 1785.'

I am very happy to find that Dr. Blacklock's apparent uneasiness on the subject of Scepticism was not on his own account, (as I supposed) but from a benevolent concern for the happiness of mankind. With respect, however, to the question concerning poetry, and composing a dictionary, I am confident that my state of Dr. Johnson's position is accurate. One may misconceive the motive by which a person is induced to discuss a particular topick (as in the case of Dr. Blacklock's speaking of Scepticism); but an assertion, like that made by Dr. Johnson, cannot be easily mistaken. And indeed it seems not very probable, that he who so pathetically laments the _drudgery_[1153] to which the unhappy lexicographer is doomed, and is known to have written his splendid imitation of _Juvenal_ with astonishing rapidity[1154], should have had 'as much pleasure in writing a sheet of a dictionary as a sheet of poetry[1155].' Nor can I concur with the ingenious writer of the foregoing letter, in thinking it an axiom as evident as any in Euclid, that 'poetry is of easier execution than lexicography.' I have no doubt that Bailey[1156], and the 'mighty blunderbuss of law[1157],' Jacob, wrote ten pages of their respective _Dictionaries_ with more ease than they could have written five pages of poetry.

If this book should again be reprinted, I shall with the utmost readiness correct any errours I may have committed, in stating conversations, provided it can be clearly shewn to me that I have been inaccurate. But I am slow to believe, (as I have elsewhere observed[1158]) that any man's memory, at the distance of several years, can preserve facts or sayings with such fidelity as may be done by writing them down when they are recent: and I beg it may be remembered, that it is not upon _memory_, but upon what was _written at the time_, that the authenticity of my _Journal_ rests.

* * * * *

No. II.

Verses written by Sir Alexander (now Lord) Macdonald; addressed and presented to Dr. Johnson, at Armidale in the Isle of Sky[1159].

Viator, o qui nostra per aequora
Visurus agros Skiaticos venis,
En te salutantes tributim
Undique conglomerantur oris.

Donaldiani,--quotquot in insulis
Compescit arctis limitibus mare;
Alitque jamdudum, ac alendos
Piscibus indigenas fovebit.

Ciere fluctus siste, Procelliger,
Nec tu laborans perge, precor, ratis,
Ne conjugem plangat marita,
Ne doleat soboles parentem.

Nec te vicissim poeniteat virum
Luxisse;--vestro scimus ut aestuant
In corde luctantes dolores,
Cum feriant inopina corpus.

Quidni! peremptum clade tuentibus
Plus semper illo qui moritur pati
Datur, doloris dum profundos
Pervia mens aperit recessus.

Valete luctus;--hinc lacrymabiles
Arcete visus:--ibimus, ibimus
Superbienti qua theatro
Fingaliae memorantur aulae.

Illustris hospes! mox spatiabere
Qua mens ruinae ducta meatibus
Gaudebit explorare coetus,
Buccina qua cecinit triumphos;

Audin? resurgens spirat anhelitu
Dux usitato, suscitat efficax
Poeta manes, ingruitque
Vi solitâ redivivus horror.

Ahaena quassans tela gravi manu
Sic ibat atrox Ossiani pater:
Quiescat urnâ, stet fidelis
Phersonius vigil ad favillam.

_Preparing for the Press, in one Volume Quarto_,

THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.

BY _JAMES BOSWELL_, ESQ.

Mr. Boswell has been collecting materials for this work for more than twenty years, during which he was honoured with the intimate friendship of Dr. Johnson; to whose memory he is ambitious to erect a literary monument, worthy of so great an authour, and so excellent a man. Dr. Johnson was well informed of his design, and obligingly communicated to him several curious particulars. With these will be interwoven the most authentick accounts that can be obtained from those who knew him best; many sketches of his conversation on a multiplicity of subjects, with various persons, some of them the most eminent of the age; a great number of letters from him at different periods, and several original pieces dictated by him to Mr. Boswell, distinguished by that peculiar energy, which marked every emanation of his mind.

Mr. Boswell takes this opportunity of gratefully acknowledging the many valuable communications which he has received to enable him to render his _Life of Dr. Johnson_ more complete. His thanks are particularly due to the Rev. Dr. Adams, the Rev. Dr. Taylor, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Langton, Dr. Brocklesby, the Rev. Thomas Warton, Mr. Hector of Birmingham, Mrs. Porter, and Miss Seward.

He has already obtained a large collection of Dr. Johnson's letters to his friends, and shall be much obliged for such others as yet remain in private hands; which he is the more desirous of collecting, as all the letters of that great man, which he has yet seen, are written with peculiar precision and elegance; and he is confident that the publication of the whole of Dr. Johnson's epistolary correspondence will do him the highest honour.

APPENDIX A.

(_Page_ 80.)

As no one reads Warburton now--I bought the five volumes of his _Divine Legation_ in excellent condition, bound in calf, for ten pence--one or two extracts from his writing may be of interest. His Dedication of that work to the Free-Thinkers is as vigorous as it is abusive. It has such passages as the following:--'Low and mean as your buffoonery is, it is yet to the level of the people:' p. xi. 'I have now done with your buffoonery, which, like chewed bullets, is against the law of arms; and come next to your scurrilities, those stink-pots of your offensive war.' _Ib. p. xxii_. On page xl. he returns again to their '_cold_ buffoonery.' In the Appendix to vol. v, p. 414, he thus wittily replies to Lowth, who had maintained that 'idolatry was punished under the DOMINION of Melchisedec'(p. 409):--'Melchisedec's story is a short one; he is just brought into the scene to _bless_ Abraham in his return from conquest. This promises but ill. Had this _King and Priest of Salem_ been brought in _cursing_, it had had a better appearance: for, I think, punishment for opinions which generally ends in a _fagot_ always begins with a _curse_. But we may be misled perhaps by a wrong translation. The Hebrew word to _bless_ signifies likewise to _curse_, and under the management of an intolerant priest good things easily run into their contraries. What follows is his taking _tythes_ from Abraham. Nor will this serve our purpose, unless we interpret these _tythes_ into _fines for non-conformity_; and then by the _blessing_ we can easily understand _absolution_. We have seen much stranger things done with the _Hebrew verity_. If this be not allowed, I do not see how we can elicit fire and fagot from this adventure; for I think there is no inseparable connexion between _tythes_ and _persecution_ but in the ideas of a Quaker.--And so much for King Melchisedec. But the learned _Professor_, who has been hardily brought up in the keen atmosphere of WHOLESOME SEVERITIES and early taught to distinguish between _de facto_ and _de jure_, thought it 'needless to enquire into _facts_, when he was secure of the _right_'.

This 'keen atmosphere of wholesome severities' reappears by the way in Mason's continuation of Gray's Ode to Vicissitude:--

'That breathes the keen yet wholesome air
Of rugged penury.'

And later in the first book of Wordsworth's _Excursion_ (ed. 1857, vi. 29):--

'The keen, the wholesome air of poverty.'

Johnson said of Warburton: 'His abilities gave him an haughty confidence, which he disdained to conceal or mollify; and his impatience of opposition disposed him to treat his adversaries with such contemptuous superiority as made his readers commonly his enemies, and excited against the advocate the wishes of some who favoured the cause. He seems to have adopted the Roman Emperour's determination, _oderint dum metuant_; he used no allurements of gentle language, but wished to compel rather than persuade.' Johnson's _Works_, viii. 288. See _ante_, ii. 36, and iv. 46.

* * * * *

APPENDIX B.

(_Page_ 158.)

Johnson's Ode written in Sky was thus translated by Lord Houghton:--

'Where constant mist enshrouds the rocks,
Shattered in earth's primeval shocks,
And niggard Nature ever mocks
The labourer's toil,
I roam through clans of savage men,
Untamed by arts, untaught by pen;
Or cower within some squalid den
O'er reeking soil.

Through paths that halt from stone to stone,
Amid the din of tongues unknown,
One image haunts my soul alone,
Thine, gentle Thrale!
Soothes she, I ask, her spouse's care?
Does mother-love its charge prepare?
Stores she her mind with knowledge rare,
Or lively tale?

Forget me not! thy faith I claim,
Holding a faith that cannot die,
That fills with thy benignant name
These shores of Sky.'

Hayward's _Piozzi_, i. 29.

* * * * *

APPENDIX C.

(_Page_ 307.)

Johnson's use of the word _big_, where he says 'I wish thy books were twice as big,' enables me to explain a passage in _The Life of Johnson (ante_, iii. 348) which had long puzzled me. Boswell there represents him as saying:--'A man who loses at play, or who runs out his fortune at court, makes his estate less, in hopes of making it _bigger_.' Boswell adds in a parenthesis:--'I am sure of this word, which was often used by him.' He had been criticised by a writer in the _Gent. Mag_. 1785, p. 968, who quoting from the text the words 'a _big_ book,' says:--'Mr. Boswell has made his friend (as in a few other passages) guilty of a _Scotticism_. An Englishman reads and writes a _large_ book, and wears a _great_ (not a _big_ or _bag_) coat.' When Boswell came to publish _The Life of Johnson_, he took the opportunity to justify himself, though he did not care to refer directly to his anonymous critic. This explanation I discovered too late to insert in the text.

A JOURNEY

INTO

NORTH WALES,

IN

THE YEAR 1774.[1160]

TUESDAY, JULY 5.

We left Streatham 11 a.m. Price of four horses 2s. a mile.

JULY 6.

Barnet 1.40 p.m. On the road I read Tully's _Epistles_. At night at Dunstable. To Lichfield, 83 miles. To the Swan[1161].

JULY 7.

To Mrs. Porter's[1162]. To the Cathedral. To Mrs. Aston's. To Mr. Green's. Mr. Green's Museum was much admired, and Mr. Newton's china.

JULY 8.

To Mr. Newton's. To Mrs. Cobb's. Dr. Darwin's[1163]. I went again to Mrs. Aston's. She was sorry to part.

JULY 9.

Breakfasted at Mr. Garrick's. Visited Miss Vyse[1164]. Miss Seward. Went to Dr. Taylor's. I read a little on the road in Tully's _Epistles_ and _Martial_. Mart. 8th, 44, 'lino pro limo[1165].'

JULY 10. Morning, at church. Company at dinner.

JULY 11.

At Ham[1166]. At Oakover. I was less pleased with Ham than when I saw it first, but my friends were much delighted.

JULY 12.

At Chatsworth. The Water willow. The cascade shot out from many spouts. The fountains[1167]. The water tree[1168]. The smooth floors in the highest rooms. Atlas, fifteen hands inch and half[1169].

River running through the park. The porticoes on the sides support two galleries for the first floor.

My friends were not struck with the house. It fell below my ideas of the furniture. The staircase is in the corner of the house. The hall in the corner the grandest room, though only a room of passage.

On the ground-floor, only the chapel and breakfast-room, and a small library; the rest, servants' rooms and offices[1170].

A bad inn.

JULY 13.

At Matlock.

JULY 14.

At dinner at Oakover; too deaf to hear, or much converse. Mrs. Gell.

The chapel at Oakover. The wood of the pews grossly painted. I could not read the epitaph. Would learn the old hands.

JULY 15.

At Ashbourn. Mrs. Diot and her daughters came in the morning. Mr. Diot dined with us. We visited Mr. Flint.

[Greek: To proton Moros, to de deuteron ei en Erasmos,
To triton ek Mouson stemma Mikullos echei.][1171]

JULY 16.

At Dovedale, with Mr. Langley[1172] and Mr. Flint. It is a place that deserves a visit; but did not answer my expectation. The river is small, the rocks are grand. Reynard's Hall is a cave very high in the rock; it goes backward several yards, perhaps eight. To the left is a small opening, through which I crept, and found another cavern, perhaps four yards square; at the back was a breach yet smaller, which I could not easily have entered, and, wanting light, did not inspect.

I was in a cave yet higher, called Reynard's Kitchen. There is a rock called the Church, in which I saw no resemblance that could justify the name.

Dovedale is about two miles long. We walked towards the head of the Dove, which is said to rise about five miles above two caves called the Dog-holes, at the end of Dovedale.

In one place, where the rocks approached, I proposed to build an arch from rock to rock over the stream, with a summer-house upon it.

The water murmured pleasantly among the stones.

I thought that the heat and exercise mended my hearing. I bore the fatigue of the walk, which was very laborious, without inconvenience.

There were with us Gilpin[1173] and Parker[1174]. Having heard of this place before, I had formed some imperfect idea, to which it did not answer. Brown[1175] says he was disappointed. I certainly expected a larger river where I found only a clear quick brook. I believe I had imaged a valley enclosed by rocks, and terminated by a broad expanse of water.

He that has seen Dovedale has no need to visit the Highlands.

In the afternoon we visited old Mrs. Dale.

JULY 17.

Sunday morning, at church.

Afternoon, at Mr. Diot's.

JULY 18.

Dined at Mr. Gell's[1176].

JULY 19.

We went to Kedleston[1177] to see Lord Scarsdale's new house, which is very costly, but ill contrived. The hall is very stately, lighted by three skylights; it has two rows of marble pillars, dug, as I hear from Langley, in a quarry of Northamptonshire; the pillars are very large and massy, and take up too much room; they were better away. Behind the hall is a circular saloon, useless, and therefore ill contrived.

The corridors that join the wings to the body are mere passages through segments of circles. The state bed-chamber was very richly furnished. The dining parlour was more splendid with gilt plate than any that I have seen. There were many pictures. The grandeur was all below. The bedchambers were small, low, dark, and fitter for a prison than a house of splendour. The kitchen has an opening into the gallery, by which its heat and its fumes are dispersed over the house. There seemed in the whole more cost than judgment.

We went then to the silk mill at Derby[1178], where I remarked a particular manner of propagating motion from a horizontal to a vertical wheel.

We were desired to leave the men only two shillings. Mr. Thrale's bill at the inn for dinner was eighteen shillings and tenpence.

At night I went to Mr. Langley's, Mrs. Wood's, Captain Astle, &c.

JULY 20.

We left Ashbourn and went to Buxton, thence to Pool's Hole, which is narrow at first, but then rises into a high arch; but is so obstructed with crags, that it is difficult to walk in it. There are two ways to the end, which is, they say, six hundred and fifty yards from the mouth. They take passengers up the higher way, and bring them back the lower. The higher way was so difficult and dangerous, that, having tried it, I desisted. I found no level part.

At night we came to Macclesfield, a very large town in Cheshire, little known. It has a silk mill: it has a handsome church, which, however, is but a chapel, for the town belongs to some parish of another name[1179], as Stourbridge lately did to Old Swinford.

Macclesfield has a town-hall, and is, I suppose, a corporate town.

JULY 21.

We came to Congleton, where there is likewise a silk mill. Then to Middlewich, a mean old town, without any manufacture, but, I think, a Corporation. Thence we proceeded to Namptwich, an old town: from the inn, I saw scarcely any but black timber houses. I tasted the brine water, which contains much more salt than the sea water. By slow evaporation, they make large crystals of salt; by quick boiling, small granulations. It seemed to have no other preparation.

At evening we came to Combermere[1180], so called from a wide lake.

JULY 22.

We went upon the Mere. I pulled a bulrush of about ten feet. I saw no convenient boats upon the Mere.

JULY 23.

We visited Lord Kilmorey's house[1181]. It is large and convenient, with many rooms, none of which are magnificently spacious. The furniture was not splendid. The bed-curtains were guarded[1182]. Lord Kilmorey shewed the place with too much exultation. He has no park, and little water[1183].

JULY 24.

We went to a chapel, built by Sir Lynch Cotton for his tenants. It is consecrated, and therefore, I suppose, endowed. It is neat and plain. The Communion plate is handsome. It has iron pales and gates of great elegance, brought from Lleweney, 'for Robert has laid all open[1184].'

We saw Hawkestone, the seat of Sir Rowland Hill, and were conducted by Miss Hill over a large tract of rocks and woods; a region abounding with striking scenes and terrifick grandeur. We were always on the brink of a precipice, or at the foot of a lofty rock; but the steeps were seldom naked: in many places, oaks of uncommon magnitude shot up from the crannies of stone; and where there were not tall trees, there were underwoods and bushes.

Round the rocks is a narrow patch cut upon the stone, which is very frequently hewn into steps; but art has proceeded no further than to make the succession of wonders safely accessible. The whole circuit is somewhat laborious; it is terminated by a grotto cut in a rock to a great extent, with many windings, and supported by pillars, not hewn into regularity, but such as imitate the sports of nature, by asperities and protuberances.

The place is without any dampness, and would afford an habitation not uncomfortable. There were from space to space seats in the rock. Though it wants water, it excels Dovedale by the extent of its prospects, the awfulness of its shades, the horrors of its precipices, the verdure of its hollows, and the loftiness of its rocks: the ideas which it forces upon the mind are, the sublime, the dreadful, and the vast. Above is inaccessible altitude, below is horrible profundity. But it excels the garden of Ilam only in extent.

Ilam has grandeur, tempered with softness; the walker congratulates his own arrival at the place, and is grieved to think that he must ever leave it. As he looks up to the rocks, his thoughts are elevated; as he turns his eyes on the vallies, he is composed and soothed.

He that mounts the precipices at Hawkestone, wonders how he came thither, and doubts how he shall return. His walk is an adventure, and his departure an escape. He has not the tranquillity, but the horror, of solitude; a kind of turbulent pleasure, between fright and admiration.

Ilam is the fit abode of pastoral virtue, and might properly diffuse its shades over Nymphs and Swains. Hawkestone can have no fitter inhabitants than giants of mighty bone and bold emprise[1185]; men of lawless courage and heroic violence. Hawkestone should be described by Milton, and Ilam by Parnel.

Miss Hill shewed the whole succession of wonders with great civility. The house was magnificent, compared with the rank of the owner.

JULY 26.

We left Combermere, where we have been treated with great civility. Sir L. is gross, the lady weak and ignorant. The house is spacious, but not magnificent; built at different times, with different materials; part is of timber, part of stone or brick, plastered and painted to look like timber. It is the best house that I ever saw of that kind.

The Mere, or Lake, is large, with a small island, on which there is a summer-house, shaded with great trees; some were hollow, and have seats in their trunks.

In the afternoon we came to West-Chester; (my father went to the fair, when I had the small-pox). We walked round the walls, which are compleat, and contain one mile three quarters, and one hundred and one yards; within them are many gardens: they are very high, and two may walk very commodiously side by side. On the inside is a rail. There are towers from space to space, not very frequent, and, I think, not all compleat[1186].

JULY 27.

We staid at Chester and saw the Cathedral, which is not of the first rank. The Castle. In one of the rooms the Assizes are held, and the refectory of the Old Abbey, of which part is a grammar school. The master seemed glad to see me. The cloister is very solemn; over it are chambers in which the singing men live.

In one part of the street was a subterranean arch, very strongly built; in another, what they called, I believe rightly, a Roman hypocaust.

Chester has many curiosities.

JULY 28.

We entered Wales, dined at Mold, and came to Lleweney[1187].

JULY 29.

We were at Lleweney.

In the lawn at Lleweney is a spring of fine water, which rises above the surface into a stone basin, from which it runs to waste, in a continual stream, through a pipe.

There are very large trees.

The Hall at Lleweney is forty feet long, and twenty-eight broad. The gallery one hundred and twenty feet long, (all paved.) The Library forty-two feet long, and twenty-eight broad. The Dining-parlours thirty-six feet long, and twenty-six broad.

It is partly sashed, and partly has casements.

JULY 30.

We went to Bâch y Graig, where we found an old house, built 1567, in an uncommon and incommodious form. My Mistress[1188] chattered about tiring, but I prevailed on her to go to the top. The floors have been stolen: the windows are stopped.

The house was less than I seemed to expect; the river Clwyd is a brook with a bridge of one arch, about one third of a mile.