Books: The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson, LL.D.

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I, Sir James Macdonald, of Macdonald, Baronet, now, after arriving at
my perfect age, from the friendship I bear to Alexander Macdonald of
Kingsburgh, and in return for the long and faithful services done and
performed by him to my deceased father, and to myself during my
minority, when he was one of my Tutors and Curators; being resolved,
now that the said Alexander Macdonald is advanced in years, to
contribute my endeavours for making his old age placid and
comfortable, therefore he grants him an annuity of fifty pounds
sterling.

Dr Johnson went to bed soon. When one bowl of punch was finished, I
rose, and was near the door, in my way up stairs to bed; but
Corrichatachin said, it was the first time Col had been in his house,
and he should have his bowl; and would not I join in drinking it? The
heartiness of my honest landlord, and the desire of doing social
honour to our very obliging conductor, induced me to sit down again.
Col's bowl was finished; and by that time we were well warmed. A third
bowl was soon made, and that too was finished. We were cordial, and
merry to a high degree; but of what passed I have no recollection,
with any accuracy. I remember calling Corrichatachin by the familiar
appellation of Corri, which his friends do. A fourth bowl was made, by
which time Col, and young M'Kinnon, Corrichatachin's son, slipped away
to bed. I continued a little with Corri and Knockow; but at last I
left them. It was near five in the morning when I got to bed.

Sunday, 26th September

I awaked at noon, with a severe head-ach. I was much vexed that I
should have been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a reproof from
Dr Johnson. I thought it very inconsistent with that conduct which I
ought to maintain, while the companion of the Rambler. About one he
came into my room, and accosted me, 'What, drunk yet?' His tone of
voice was not that of severe upbraiding; so I was relieved a little.
'Sir,' said I, 'they kept me up.' He answered, 'No, you kept them up,
you drunken dog.' This he said with good-humoured English pleasantry.
Soon afterwards, Corrichatachin, Col, and other friends assembled
round my bed. Corri had a brandy-bottle and glass with him, and
insisted I should take a dram. 'Ay,' said Dr Johnson, 'fill him drunk
again. Do it in the morning, that we may laugh at him all day. It is a
poor thing for a fellow to get drunk at night, and sculk to bed, and
let his friends have no sport.' Finding him thus jocular, I became
quite easy; and when I offered to get up, he very good-naturedly said,
'You need be in no such hurry now.' [Footnote: My ingenuously relating
this occasional instance of intemperance has I find been made the
subject both of serious criticism and ludicrous banter. With the
banterers I shall not trouble myself, but I wonder that those who
pretend to the appellation of serious criticks should not have had
sagacity enough to perceive that here, as in every other part of the
present work, my principal object was to delineate Dr Johnson's
manners and character. In justice to him I would not omit an anecdote,
which, though in some degree to my own disadvantage, exhibits in so
strong a light the indulgence and good humour with which he could
treat those excesses in his friends, of which he highly disapproved.
In some other instances, the criticks have been equally wrong as to
the true motive of my recording particulars, the objections to which I
saw as clearly as they. But it would be an endless talk for an authour
to point out upon every occasion the precise object he has in view.
Contenting himself with the approbation of readers of discernment and
taste, he ought not to complain that some are found who cannot or will
not understand him.] I took my host's advice, and drank some brandy,
which I found an effectual cure for my head-ach. When I rose, I went
into Dr Johnson's room, and taking up Mrs M'Kinnon's prayer-book, I
opened it at the twentieth Sunday after Trinity, in the epistle for
which I read, 'And be not drunk with wine, wherein there is excess.'
Some would have taken this as a divine interposition.

Mrs M'Kinnon told us at dinner, that old Kingsburgh, her father, was
examined at Mugstot, by General Campbell, as to the particulars of the
dress of the person who had come to his house in woman's clothes,
along with Miss Flora M'Donald; as the General had received
intelligence of that disguise. The particulars were taken down in
writing, that it might be seen how far they agreed with the dress of
the 'Irish girl' who went with Miss Flora from the Long Island.
Kingsburgh, she said, had but one song, which he always sung when he
was merry over a glass. She dictated the words to me, which are
foolish enough:

Green sleeves and pudding pies,
Tell me where my mistress lies,
And I'll be with her before the rise,
Fiddle and aw' together.

May our affairs abroad succeed,
And may our king come home with speed,
And all pretenders shake for dread,
And let HIS health go round.

To all our injured friends in need,
This side and beyond the Tweed!
Let all pretenders shake for dread,
And let HIS health go round.
Green sleeves, &c.

While the examination was going on, the present Talisker, who was
there as one of M'Leod's militia, could not resist the pleasantry of
asking Kingsburgh, in allusion to his only song, 'Had she GREEN
SLEEVES?' Kingsburgh gave him no answer. Lady Margaret M'Donald was
very angry at Talisker for joking on such a serious occasion, as
Kingsburgh was really in danger of his life. Mrs M'Kinnon added that
Lady Margaret was quite adored in Sky. That when she travelled through
the island, the people ran in crowds before her, and took the stones
off the road, lest her horse should stumble and she be hurt. Her
husband, Sir Alexander, is also remembered with great regard. We were
told that every week a hogshead of claret was drunk at his table.

This was another day of wind and rain; but good cheer and good society
helped to beguile the time. I felt myself comfortable enough in the
afternoon. I then thought that my last night's riot was no more than
such a social excess as may happen without much moral blame; and
recollected that some physicians maintained, that a fever produced by
it was, upon the whole, good for health: so different are our
reflections on the same subject, at different periods; and such the
excuses with which we palliate what we know to be wrong.

Monday, 27th September

Mr Donald M'Leod, our original guide, who had parted from us at
Dunvegan, joined us again to-day. The weather was still so bad that we
could not travel. I found a closet here, with a good many books,
beside those that were lying about. Dr Johnson told me, he found a
library in his room at Talisker; and observed, that it was one of the
remarkable things of Sky, that there were so many books in it.

Though we had here great abundance of provisions, it is remarkable
that Corrichatachin has literally no garden: not even a turnip, a
carrot or a cabbage. After dinner, we talked of the crooked spade used
in Sky, already described, and they maintained that it was better than
the usual garden-spade, and that there was an art in tossing it, by
which those who were accustomed to it could work very easily with it.
'Nay,' said Dr Johnson, 'it may be useful in land where there are many
stones to raise; but it certainly is not a good instrument for digging
good land. A man may toss it, to be sure; but he will toss a light
spade much better: its weight makes it an incumbrance. A man MAY dig
any land with it; but he has no occasion for such a weight in digging
good land. You may take a field-piece to shoot sparrows; but all the
sparrows you can bring home will not be worth the charge.' He was
quite social and easy amongst them; and, though he drank no fermented
liquor, toasted Highland beauties with great readiness. His
conviviality engaged them so much, that they seemed eager to shew
their attention to him, and vied with each other in crying out, with a
strong Celtick pronunciation, 'Toctor Shonson, Toctor Shonson, your
health!'

This evening one of our married ladies, a lively pretty little woman,
good-humouredly sat down upon Dr Johnson's knee, and, being encouraged
by some of the company, put her hands round his neck, and kissed him.
'Do it again,' said he, 'and let us see who will tire first.' He kept
her on his knee some time, while he and she drank tea. He was now like
a BUCK indeed. All the company were much entertained to find him so
easy and pleasant. To me it was highly comick, to see the grave
philosopher--the Rambler--toying with a Highland beauty! But what
could he do? He must have been surly, and weak too, had he not behaved
as he did. He would have been laughed at, and not more respected,
though less loved.

He read to-night, to himself, as he sat in company, a great deal of my
Journal, and said to me, 'The more I read of this, I think the more
highly of you.' The gentlemen sat a long time at their punch, after he
and I had retired to our chambers. The manner in which they were
attended struck me as singular: the bell being broken, a smart lad lay
on a table in the corner of the room, ready to spring up and bring the
kettle, whenever it was wanted. They continued drinking, and singing
Erse songs, till near five in the morning, when they all came into my
room, where some of them had beds. Unluckily for me, they found a
bottle of punch in a corner, which they drank; and Corrichatachin went
for another, which they also drank. They made many apologies for
disturbing me. I told them, that, having been kept awake by their
mirth, I had once thoughts of getting up, and joining them again.
Honest Corrichatachin said, 'To have had you done so, I would have
given a cow.'

Tuesday, 28th September

The weather was worse than yesterday. I felt as if imprisoned. Dr
Johnson said, it was irksome to be detained thus: yet he seemed to
have less uneasiness, or more patience, than I had. What made our
situation worse here was, that we had no rooms that we could command;
for the good people had no notion that a man could have any occasion
but for a mere sleeping-place; so, during the day, the bed-chambers
were common to all the house. Servants eat in Dr Johnson's; and mine
was a kind of general rendezvous of all under the roof, children and
dogs not excepted. As the gentlemen occupied the parlour, the ladies
had no place to sit in, during the day, but Dr Johnson's room. I had
always some quiet time for writing in it, before he was up; and, by
degrees, I accustomed the ladies to let me sit in it after breakfast,
at my Journal, without minding me.

Dr Johnson was this morning for going to see as many islands as we
could; not recollecting the uncertainty of the season, which might
detain us in one place for many weeks. He said to me, 'I have more the
spirit of adventure than you.' For my part, I was anxious to get to
Mull, from whence we might almost any day reach the main land.

Dr Johnson mentioned, that the few ancient Irish gentlemen yet
remaining have the highest pride of family; that Mr Sandford, a friend
of his, whose mother was Irish, told him, that O'Hara (who was true
Irish, both by father and mother) and he, and Mr Ponsonby, son to the
Earl of Besborough, the greatest man of the three, but of an English
family, went to see one of those ancient Irish, and that he
distinguished them thus: 'O'Hara, you are welcome! Mr Sandford, your
mother's son, is welcome! Mr Ponsonby, you may sit down.'

He talked both of threshing and thatching. He said, it was very
difficult to determine how to agree with a thresher. 'If you pay him
by the day's wages, he will thresh no more than he pleases; though, to
be sure, the negligence of a thresher is more easily detected than
that of most labourers, because he must always make a sound while he
works. If you pay him by the piece, by the quantity of grain which he
produces, he will thresh only while the grain comes freely, and,
though he leaves a good deal in the ear, it is not worth while to
thresh the straw over again; nor can you fix him to do it
sufficiently, because it is so difficult to prove how much less a man
threshes than he ought to do. Here then is a dilemma: but, for my
part, I would engage him by the day; I would rather trust his idleness
than his fraud.' He said, a roof thatched with Lincolnshire reeds
would last seventy years, as he was informed when in that county; and
that he told this in London to a great thatcher, who said, he believed
it might be true. Such are the pains that Dr Johnson takes to get the
best information on every subject.

He proceeded: 'It is difficult for a farmer in England to find day-
labourers, because the lowest manufacturers can always get more than a
day-labourer. It is of no consequence how high the wages of
manufacturers are; but it would be of very bad consequence to raise
the wages of those who procure the immediate necessaries of life, for
that would raise the price of provisions. Here then is a problem for
politicians. It is not reasonable that the most useful body of men
should be the worst paid; yet it does not appear how it can be ordered
otherwise. It were to be wished, that a mode for its being otherwise
were found out. In the mean time, it is better to give temporary
assistance by charitable contributions to poor labourers, at times
when provisions are high, than to raise their wages; because, if wages
are once raised, they will never get down again.'

Happily the weather cleared up between one and two o'clock, and we got
ready to depart; but our kind host and hostess would not let us go
without taking a 'snatch', as they called it; which was in truth a very
good dinner. While the punch went round, Dr Johnson kept a close
whispering conference with Mrs M'Kinnon, which, however, was loud enough
to let us hear that the subject of it was the particulars of Prince
Charles's escape. The company were entertained and pleased to observe
it. Upon that subject, there was something congenial between the soul of
Dr Samuel Johnson, and that of an isle of Sky farmer's wife. It is
curious to see people, how far soever removed from each other in the
general system of their lives, come close together on a particular point
which is common to each. We were merry with Corrichatachin, on Dr
Johnson's whispering with his wife. She, perceiving this, humorously
cried, 'I am in love with him. What is it to live and not to love?' Upon
her saying something, which I did not hear, or cannot recollect, he
seized her hand eagerly, and kissed it.

As we were going, the Scottish phrase of 'honest man!' which is an
expression of kindness and regard, was again and again applied by the
company to Dr Johnson. I was also treated with much civility; and I
must take some merit from my assiduous attention to him, and from my
contriving that he shall be easy wherever he goes, that he shall not
be asked twice to eat or drink any thing (which always disgusts him),
that he shall be provided with water at his meals, and many such
little things, which, if not attended to would fret him. I also may be
allowed to claim some merit in leading the conversation: I do not mean
leading, as in an orchestra, by playing the first fiddle; but leading
as one does in examining a witness--starting topics, and making him
pursue them. He appears to me like a great mill, into which a subject
is thrown to be ground. It requires, indeed, fertile minds to furnish
materials for this mill. I regret whenever I see it unemployed; but
sometimes I feel myself quite barren, and having nothing to throw in.
I know not if this mill be a good figure; though Pope makes his mind a
mill for turning verses.

We set out about four. Young Corrichatachin went with us. We had a
fine evening, and arrived in good time at Ostig, the residence of Mr
Martin M'Pherson, minister of Slate. It is a pretty good house, built
by his father, upon a farm near the church. We were received here with
much kindness by Mr and Mrs M'Pherson, and his sister, Miss M'Pherson,
who pleased Dr Johnson much, by singing Erse songs, and playing on the
guittar. He afterwards sent her a present of his Rasselas. In his
bed-chamber was a press stored with books, Greek, Latin, French, and
English, most of which had belonged to the father of our host, the
learned Dr M'Pherson; who, though his Dissertations have been
mentioned in a former page as unsatisfactory, was a man of
distinguished talents. Dr Johnson looked at a Latin paraphrase of the
song of Moses, written by him, and published in the Scots Magazine for
1747, and said, 'It does him honour; he has a great deal of Latin, and
good Latin.' Dr M'Pherson published also in the same magazine, June
1739, an original Latin ode, which he wrote from the Isle of Barra,
where he was minister for some years. It is very poetical, and
exhibits a striking proof how much all things depend upon comparison:
for Barra, it seems, appeared to him so much worse than Sky, his
natale solum, that he languished for its 'blessed mountains', and
thought himself buried alive amongst barbarians where he was. My
readers will probably not be displeased to have a specimen of this
ode:

Hei mihi! quantos patior dolores,
Dum procul specto juga ter beata;
Dum ferae Barrae steriles arenas
Solus oberro.

Ingemo, indignor, crucior, quod inter
Barbaros Thulen lateam colentes;
Torpeo languens, morior sepultus,
Carcere coeco.

After wishing for wings to fly over to his dear country, which was in
his view, from what he calls 'Thule', as being the most western isle
of Scotland, except St Kilda; after describing the pleasures of
society, and the miseries of solitude, he at last, with becoming
propriety, has recourse to the only sure relief of thinking
men--Sursum corda, the hope of a better world--and disposes his mind
to resignation:

Interim fiat, tua, rex, voluntas:
Erigor sursum quoties subit spes
Certa migrandi Solymam supernam,
Numinis aulam.

He concludes in a noble strain of orthodox piety:

Vita tum demum vocitanda vita est.
Tum licet gratos socios habere,
Seraphim et sanctos Triadem verendam
Concelebrantes.

Wednesday, 29th September

After a very good sleep, I rose more refreshed than I had been for
some nights. We were now at but a little distance from the shore, and
saw the sea from our windows, which made our voyage seem nearer. Mr
M'Pherson's manners and address pleased us much. He appeared to be a
man of such intelligence and taste as to be sensible of the
extraordinary powers of his illustrious guest. He said to me, 'Dr
Johnson is an honour to mankind; and, if the expression may be used,
is an honour to religion.'

Col, who had gone yesterday to pay a visit at Camuscross, joined us
this morning at breakfast. Some other gentlemen also came to enjoy the
entertainment of Dr Johnson's conversation. The day was windy and
rainy, so that we had just seized a happy interval for our journey
last night. We had good entertainment here, better accommodation than
at Corrichatachin, and time enough to ourselves. The hours slipped
along imperceptibly. We talked of Shenstone. Dr Johnson said, he was a
good layer-out of land, but would not allow him to approach excellence
as a poet. He said, he believed he had tried to read all his Love
Pastorals, but did not get through them. I repeated the stanza,

'"She gazed as I slowly withdrew;
My path I could hardly discern;
So sweetly she bade me adieu,
I thought that she bade me return."'

He said, 'That seems to be pretty.' I observed that Shenstone, from
his short maxims in prose, appeared to have some power of thinking;
but Dr Johnson would not allow him that merit. He agreed, however,
with Shenstone, that it was wrong in the brother of one of his
correspondents to burn his letters; 'for,' said he, 'Shenstone was a
man whose correspondence was an honour.' He was this afternoon full of
critical severity, and dealt about his censures on all sides. He said,
Hammond's Love Elegies were poor things. He spoke contemptuously of
our lively and elegant, though too licentious, lyrick bard, Hanbury
Williams, and said, 'he had no fame, but from boys who drank with
him'.

While he was in this mood, I was unfortunate enough, simply perhaps,
but, I could not help thinking, undeservedly, to come within 'the
whiff and wind of his fell sword'. I asked him, if he had ever been
accustomed to wear a night-cap. He said 'No.' I asked, if it was best
not to wear one. JOHNSON. 'Sir, I had this custom by chance, and
perhaps no man shall ever know whether it is best to sleep with or
without a night-cap.' Soon afterwards he was laughing at some
deficiency in the Highlands, and said, 'One might as well go without
shoes and stockings.' Thinking to have a little hit at his own
deficiency, I ventured to add, 'or without a night-cap, sir'. But I
had better have been silent; for he retorted directly, 'I do not see
the connection there' (laughing). 'Nobody before was ever foolish
enough to ask whether it was best to wear a night-cap or not. This
comes of being a little wrong-headed.' He carried the company along
with him: and yet the truth is, that if he had always worn a
night-cap, as is the common practice, and found the Highlanders did
not wear one, he would have wondered at their barbarity; so that my
hit was fair enough.

Thursday, 30th September

There was as great a storm of wind and rain as I have almost ever
seen, which necessarily confined us to the house; but we were fully
compensated by Dr Johnson's conversation. He said, he did not grudge
Burke's being the first man in the House of Commons, for he was the
first man every where; but he grudged that a fellow who makes no
figure in company, and has a mind as narrow as the neck of a vinegar
cruet, should make a figure in the House of Commons, merely by having
the knowledge of a few forms, and being furnished with a little
occasional information. [Footnote: He did not mention the name of any
particular person; but those who are conversant with the political
world will probably recollect more persons than one to whom this
observation may be applied.] He told us, the first time he saw Dr
Young was at the house of Mr Richardson, the author of Clarissa. He
was sent for, that the doctor might read to him his Conjectures on
Original Composition, which he did, and Dr Johnson made his remarks;
and he was surprised to find Young receive as novelties, what he
thought very common maxims. He said, he believed Young was not a great
scholar, nor had studied regularly the art of writing; that there were
very fine things in his Night Thoughts, though you could not find
twenty lines together without some extravagance. He repeated two
passages from his Love of Fame--the characters of Brunetta and Stella,
which he praised highly. He said Young pressed him much to come to
Wellwyn. He always intended it, but never went. He was sorry when
Young died. The cause of quarrel between Young and his son, he told
us, was, that his son insisted Young should turn away a clergyman's
widow, who lived with him, and who, having acquired great influence
over the father, was saucy to the son. Dr Johnson said, she could not
conceal her resentment at him, for saying to Young, that 'an old man
should not resign himself to the management of any body.' I asked him,
if there was any improper connection between them. 'No, sir, no more
than between two statues. He was past fourscore, and she a very coarse
woman. She read to him, and, I suppose, made his coffee, and frothed
his chocolate, and did such things as an old man wishes to have done
for him.'

Dr Dodridge being mentioned, he observed that 'he was author of one of
the finest epigrams in the English language. It is in Orton's Life of
him. The subject is his family-motto, Dum vivimus, vivamus; which, in
its primary signification, is, to be sure, not very suitable to a
Christian divine; but he paraphrased it thus:

"Live, while you live, the EPICURE would say,
And seize the pleasures of the present day.
Live, while you live, the sacred PREACHER cries,
And give to God each moment as it flies.
Lord, in my views let both united be;
I live in PLEASURE, when I live to THEE."'

I asked if it was not strange that government should permit so many
infidel writings to pass without censure. JOHNSON. 'Sir, it is mighty
foolish. It is for want of knowing their own power. The present family
on the throne came to the crown against the will of nine tenths of the
people. Whether those nine tenths were right or wrong, it is not our
business now to inquire. But such being the situation of the royal
family, they were glad to encourage all who would be their friends.
Now you know every bad man is a Whig; every man who has loose notions.
The Church was all against this family. They were, as I say, glad to
encourage any friends; and therefore, since their accession, there is
no instance of any man being kept back on account of his bad
principles; and hence this inundation of impiety.' I observed that Mr
Hume, some of whose writings were very unfavourable to religion, was,
however, a Tory. JOHNSON. 'Sir, Hume is a Tory by chance, as being a
Scotchman; but not upon a principle of duty; for he has no principle.
If he is any thing, he is a Hobbist.'

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