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

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We could get but one bridle here, which, according to the maxim detur
digniori, was appropriated to Dr Johnson's sheltie. I and Joseph rode
with halters. We crossed in a ferry-boat a pretty wide lake, and on
the farther side of it, close by the shore, found a hut for our inn.
We were much wet. I changed my clothes in part, and was at pains to
get myself well dried. Dr Johnson resolutely kept on all his clothes,
wet as they were, letting them steam before the smoky turf fire. I
thought him in the wrong; but his firmness was, perhaps, a species of
heroism.

I remember but little of our conversation. I mentioned Shenstone's
saying of Pope, that he had the art of condensing sense more than any
body. Dr Johnson said, 'It is not true, sir. There is more sense in a
line of Cowley than in a page' (or a sentence of ten lines--I am not
quite certain of the very phrase) 'of Pope.' He maintained that
Archibald, Duke of Argyle, was a narrow man. I wondered at this; and
observed, that his building so great a house at Inveraray was not like
a narrow man. 'Sir,' said he, 'when a narrow man has resolved to build
a house, he builds it like another man. But Archibald, Duke of Argyle,
was narrow in his ordinary expences, in his quotidian expences.'

The distinction is very just. It is in the ordinary expences of life
that a man's liberality or narrowness is to be discovered. I never
heard the word quotidian in this sense, and I imagined it to be a word
of Dr Johnson's own fabrication; but I have since found it in Young's
Night Thoughts (Night fifth):

Death's a destroyer of quotidian prey.

and in my friend's Dictionary, supported by the authorities of Charles
I and Dr Donne.

It rained very hard as we journied on after dinner. The roar of
torrents from the mountains, as we passed along in the dusk, and the
other circumstances attending our ride this evening, have been
mentioned with so much animation by Dr Johnson, that I shall not
attempt to say any thing on the subject.

We got at night to Inveraray, where we found an excellent inn. Even
here, Dr Johnson would not change his wet clothes.

The prospect of good accommodation cheered us much. We supped well;
and after supper, Dr Johnson, whom I had not seen taste any fermented
liquor during all our travels, called for a gill of whisky. 'Come,'
said he, 'let me know what it is that makes a Scotchman happy!' He
drank it all but a drop, which I begged leave to pour into my glass,
that I might say we had drunk whisky together. I proposed Mrs Thrale
should be our toast. He would not have HER drunk in whisky, but rather
'some insular lady', so we drank one of the ladies whom we had lately
left. He owned tonight, that he got as good a room and bed as at an
English inn.

I had here the pleasure of finding a letter from home, which relieved
me from the anxiety I had suffered, in consequence of not having
received any account of my family for many weeks. I also found a
letter from Mr Garrick, which was a regale as agreeable as a pineapple
would be in a desert. He had favoured me with his correspondence for
many years; and when Dr Johnson and I were at Inverness, I had written
to him as follows:

Inverness,
My dear Sir,
Sunday, 29 August, 1773

Here I am, and Mr Samuel Johnson actually with me. We were a night at
Fores, in coming to which, in the dusk of the evening, we passed over
a bleak and blasted heath where Macbeth met the witches. Your old
preceptor repeated, with much solemnity, the speech

How far is't called to Fores? What are these
So wither'd and so wild in their attire, etc.

This day we visited the ruins of Macbeth's castle at Inverness. I have
had great romantick satisfaction in seeing Johnson upon the classical
scenes of Shakspeare in Scotland; which I really looked upon as almost
as improbable as that 'Birnam wood should come to Dunsinane'. Indeed,
as I have always been accustomed to view him as a permanent London
object, it would not be much more wonderful to me to see St Paul's
church moving along where we now are. As yet we have travelled in
postchaises; but to-morrow we are to mount on horseback, and ascend
into the mountains by Fort Augustus, and so on to the ferry, where we
are to cross to Sky. We shall see that island fully, and then visit
some more of the Hebrides; after which we are to land in Argyleshire,
proceed by Glasgow to Auchinleck, repose there a competent time, and
then return to Edinburgh, from whence the Rambler will depart for old
England again, as soon as he finds it convenient. Hitherto we have had
a very prosperous expedition. I flatter myself servetur ad imum,
qualis ab incepto processerit. He is in excellent spirits, and I have
a rich Journal of his conversation. Look back, Davy, [Footnote: I took
the liberty of giving this familiar appellation to my celebrated
friend, to bring in a more lively manner to his remembrance the period
when he was Dr Johnson's pupil.] to Litchfield; run up through the
time that has elapsed since you first knew Mr Johnson, and enjoy with
me his present extraordinary tour. I could not resist the impulse of
writing to you from this place. The situation of the old castle
corresponds exactly to Shakspeare's description. While we were there
to-day, it happened oddly, that a raven perched upon one of the
chimney-tops, and croaked. Then I in my turn repeated,

'The raven himself is hoarse.
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan,
Under my battlements.'

I wish you had been with us. Think what enthusiastick happiness I
shall have to see Mr Samuel Johnson walking among the romantick rocks
and woods of my ancestors at Auchinleck! Write to me at Edinburgh. You
owe me his verses on great George and tuneful Cibber, and the bad
verses which led him to make his fine ones on Philips the musician.
Keep your promise, and let me have them. I offer my very best
compliments to Mrs Garrick, and ever am

Your warm admirer and friend,
JAMES BOSWELL.

To David Garrick, Esq;
London.

His answer was as follows.

Hampton,
September 14, 1773,
Dear Sir,

You stole away from London, and left us all in the lurch; for we
expected you one night at the club, and knew nothing of your
departure. Had I payed you what I owed you, for the book you bought
for me, I should only have grieved for the loss of your company, and
slept with a quiet conscience; but, wounded as it is, it must remain
so till I see you again, though I am sure our good friend Mr Johnson
will discharge the debt for me, if you will let him. Your account of
your journey to Fores, the RAVEN, OLD CASTLE, &c. &c. made me half
mad. Are you not rather too late in the year for fine weather, which
is the life and soul of seeing places? I hope your pleasure will
continue qualis ab incepto, &c.

Your friend---[Footnote: I have suppressed my Mend's name from an
apprehension of wounding his sensibility; but I would not withhold
from my readers a passage which shews Mr Gamck's mode of writing as
the Manager of a Theatre, and contains a pleasing trait of his
domestick life. His judgment of dramatick pieces, so far as concerns
their exhibition on the stage, must be allowed to have considerable
weight. But from the effect which a perusal of the tragedy here
condemned had upon myself, and from the opinions of some eminent
criticks. I venture to pronounce that it has much poetical merit; and
Its author has distinguished himself by several performances which
shew that the epithet poetaster was, in the present Instance, much
misapplied.] threatens me much. I only wish that he would put his
threats in execution, and, if he prints his play, I will forgive him.
I remember he complained to you, that his bookseller called for the
money for some copies of his--, which I subscribed for, and that I
desired him to call again. The truth is, that my wife was not at home,
and that for weeks together I have not ten shillings in my pocket.
However, had it been otherwise, it was not so great a crime to draw
his poetical vengeance upon me. I despise all that he can do, and am
glad that I can so easily get rid of him and his ingratitude. I am
hardened both to abuse and ingratitude.

You, I am sure, will no more recommend your poetasters to my civility
and good offices.

Shall I recommend to you a play of Eschylus (the Prometheus),
published and translated by poor old Morel], who is a good scholar,
and an acquaintance of mine. It will be but half a guinea, and your
name shall be put in the list I am making for him. You will be in very
good company.

Now for the Epitaphs!

(These, together with the verses on George the Second, and Colley
Gibber, as his Poet Laureat, of which imperfect copies are gone about,
will appear in my Life of Dr Johnson.)

I have no more paper, or I should have said more to you. My love and
respects to Mr Johnson.

Yours ever,
D. GARRICK.
I can't write. I have the gout in my hand.

To James Boswell, Esq., Edinburgh.

Sunday, 24th October

We passed the forenoon calmly and placidly. I prevailed on Dr Johnson
to read aloud Ogden's sixth sermon on prayer, which he did with a
distinct expression, and pleasing solemnity. He praised my favourite
preacher, his elegant language, and remarkable acuteness; and said, he
fought infidels with their own weapons.

As a specimen of Ogden's manner, I insert the following passage from
the sermon which Dr Johnson now read. The preacher, after arguing
against that vain philosophy which maintains, in conformity with the
hard principle of eternal necessity, or unchangeable predetermination,
that the only effect of prayer for others, although we are exhorted to
pray for them, is to produce good dispositions in ourselves towards
them; thus expresses himself:

A plain man may be apt to ask, But if this then, though enjoined in
the holy Scriptures, is to be my real aim and intention, when I am
taught to pray for other persons, why is it that I do not plainly so
express it? Why is not the form of the petition brought nearer to the
meaning? Give them, say I to our heavenly father, what is good. But
this, I am to understand, will be as it will be, and is not for me to
alter. What is it then that I am doing? I am desiring to become
charitable myself; and why may I not plainly say so? Is there shame in
it, or impiety? The wish is laudable: why should I form designs to
hide it?

Or is it, perhaps, better to be brought about by indirect means, and
in this artful manner? Alas! who is it that I would impose on? From
whom can it be, in this commerce, that I desire to hide any thing?
When, as my Saviour commands me, I have 'entered into my closet, and
shut my door', there are but two parties privy to my devotions, God
and my own heart; which of the two am I deceiving?

He wished to have more books, and, upon inquiring if there were any in
the house, was told that a waiter had some, which were brought to him;
but I recollect none of them, except Hervey's Meditations. He thought
slightingly of this admired book. He treated it with ridicule, and
would not allow even the scene of the dying husband and father to be
pathetick. I am not an impartial judge; for Hervey's Meditations
engaged my affections in my early years. He read a passage concerning
the moon, ludicrously, and shewed how easily he could, in the same
style, make reflections on that planet, the very reverse of Hervey's,
representing her as treacherous to mankind. He did this with much
humour; but I have not preserved the particulars. He then indulged a
playful fancy, in making a Meditation on a Pudding, of which I hastily
wrote down, in his presence, the following note; which, though
imperfect, may serve to give my readers some idea of it.

MEDITATION ON A PUDDING

Let us seriously reflect of what a pudding is composed. It is composed
of flour that once waved in the golden grain, and drank the dews of
the morning; of milk pressed from the swelling udder by the gentle
hand of the beauteous milk-maid, whose beauty and innocence might have
recommended a worse draught; who, while she stroked the udder,
indulged no ambitious thoughts of wandering in palaces, formed no
plans for the destruction of her fellow-creatures: milk, which is
drawn from the cow, that useful animal, that eats the grass of the
field, and supplies us with that which made the greatest part of the
food of mankind in the age which the poets have agreed to call golden.
It is made with an egg, that miracle of nature, which the theoretical
Burnet has compared to creation. An egg contains water within its
beautiful smooth surface; and an unformed mass, by the incubation of
the parent, becomes a regular animal, furnished with bones and sinews,
and covered with feathers. Let us consider; can there be more wanting
to complete the Meditation on a Pudding? If more is wanting, more may
be found. It contains salt, which keeps the sea from putrefaction:
salt, which is made the image of intellectual excellence, contributes
to the formation of a pudding.

In a magazine I found a saying of Dr Johnson's, something to this
purpose; that the happiest part of a man's life is what he passes
lying awake in bed in the morning. I read it to him. He said, 'I may,
perhaps, have said this; for nobody, at times, talks more laxly than I
do.' I ventured to suggest to him, that this was dangerous from one of
his authority.

I spoke of living in the country, and upon what footing one should be
with neighbours. I observed that some people were afraid of being on
too easy a footing with them, from an apprehension that their time
would not be their own. He made the obvious remark, that it depended
much on what kind of neighbours one has, whether it was desirable to
be on an easy footing with them, or not. I mentioned a certain
baronet, who told me, he never was happy in the country, till he was
not on speaking terms with his neighbours, which he contrived in
different ways to bring about. 'Lord ---', said he, 'stuck along; but
at last the fellow pounded my pigs, and then I got rid of him.'
JOHNSON. 'Nay, sir, My Lord got rid of Sir John, and shewed how little
he valued him, by putting his pigs in the pound.'

I told Dr Johnson I was in some difficulty how to act at Inveraray. I
had reason to think that the Duchess of Argyle disliked me, on account
of my zeal in the Douglas cause; but the Duke of Argyle had always
been pleased to treat me with great civility. They were now at the
castle, which is a very short walk from our inn; and the question was,
whether I should go and pay my respects there. Dr Johnson, to whom I
had stated the case, was clear that I ought; but, in his usual way, he
was very shy of discovering a desire to be invited there himself.
Though from a conviction of the benefit of subordination to society,
he has always shewn great respect to persons of high rank, when he
happened to be in their company, yet his pride of character has ever
made him guard against any appearance of courting the great. Besides,
he was impatient to go to Glasgow, where he expected letters. At the
same time he was, I believe, secretly not unwilling to have attention
paid him by so great a chieftain, and so exalted a nobleman. He
insisted that I should not go to the castle this day before dinner, as
it would look like seeking an invitation. 'But,' said I, 'if the duke
invites us to dine with him to-morrow, shall we accept?' 'Yes, sir,' I
think he said, 'to be sure.' But, he added, 'He won't ask us!' I
mentioned, that I was afraid my company might be disagreeable to the
duchess. He treated this objection with a manly disdain: 'THAT, sir,
he must settle with his wife.' We dined well. I went to the castle
just about the time when I supposed the ladies would be retired from
dinner. I sent in my name; and, being shewn in, found the amiable duke
sitting at the head of his table with several gentlemen. I was most
politely received, and gave his grace some particulars of the curious
journey which I had been making with Dr Johnson. When we rose from
table, the duke said to me, 'I hope you and Dr Johnson will dine with
us to-morrow.' I thanked his grace; but told him, my friend was in a
great hurry to get back to London. The duke, with a kind complacency,
said, 'He will stay one day; and I will take care he shall see this
place to advantage.' I said, I should be sure to let him know his
grace's invitation. As I was going away, the duke said, 'Mr Boswell,
won't you have some tea?' I thought it best to get over the meeting
with the duchess this night; so respectfully agreed. I was conducted
to the drawing-room by the duke, who announced my name; but the
duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, Lady Betty Hamilton, and
some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. I should have been
mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of whom I, with the
rest of the world, have always entertained a very high admiration, had
I not been consoled by the obliging attention of the duke.

When I returned to the inn, I informed Dr Johnson of the Duke of
Argyle's invitation, with which he was much pleased, and readily
accepted of it. We talked of a violent contest which was then carrying
on, with a view to the next general election for Ayrshire; where one
of the candidates, in order to undermine the old and established
interest, had artfully held himself out as a champion for the
independency of the county against aristocratick influence, and had
persuaded several gentlemen into a resolution to oppose every
candidate who was supported by peers. 'Foolish fellows!' said Dr
Johnson. 'Didn't they see that they are as much dependent upon the
peers one way as the other. The peers have but to OPPOSE a candidate,
to ensure him success. It is said, the only way to make a pig go
forward, is to pull him back by the tail. These people must be treated
like pigs.'

Monday, 25th October

My acquaintance, the Reverend Mr John M'Aulay, one of the ministers of
Inveraray, and brother to our good friend at Calder, came to us this
morning, and accompanied us to the castle, where I presented Dr
Johnson to the Duke of Argyle. We were shewn through the house; and I
never shall forget the impression made upon my fancy by some of the
ladies' maids tripping about in neat morning dresses. After seeing for
a long time little but rusticity, their lively manner, and gay
inviting appearance, pleased me so much, that I thought, for the
moment, I could have been a knight-errant for them. [Footnote: On
reflection, at the distance of several years, I wonder that my
venerable fellow-traveller should have read this passage without
censuring my levity.]

We then got into a low one-horse chair, ordered for us by the duke, in
which we drove about the place. Dr Johnson was much struck by the
grandeur and elegance of this princely seat. He thought, however, the
castle too low, and wished it had been a story higher. He said, 'What
I admire here, is the total defiance of expence.' I had a particular
pride in shewing him a great number of fine old trees, to compensate
for the nakedness which had made such an impression on him on the
eastern coast of Scotland.

When we came in, before dinner, we found the duke and some gentlemen
in the hall. Dr Johnson took much notice of the large collection of
arms, which are excellently disposed there. I told what he had said to
Sir Alexander McDonald, of his ancestors not suffering their arms to
rust. 'Well,' said the doctor, 'but let us be glad we live in times
when arms MAY rust. We can sit to-day at his grace's table, without
any risk of being attacked, and perhaps sitting down again wounded or
maimed.' The duke placed Dr Johnson next himself at table. I was in
fine spirits; and though sensible that I had the misfortune of not
being in favour with the duchess, I was not in the least disconcerted,
and offered her grace some of the dish that was before me. It must be
owned that I was in the right to be quite unconcerned, if I could. I
was the Duke of Argyle's guest; and I had no reason to suppose that he
adopted the prejudices and resentments of the Duchess of Hamilton.

I knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to any body;
but, that I might have the satisfaction for once to look the duchess
in the face, with a glass in my hand, I with a respectful air
addressed her, 'My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink your
grace's good health.' I repeated the words audibly, and with a steady
countenance. This was, perhaps, rather too much; but some allowance
must be made for human feelings.

The duchess was very attentive to Dr Johnson. I know not how a middle
state came to be mentioned. Her grace wished to hear him on that
point. 'Madam,' said he, 'your own relation, Mr Archibald Campbell,
can tell you better about it than I can. He was a bishop of the
nonjuring communion, and wrote a book upon the subject.' [Footnote: As
this book is now become very scarce, I shall subjoin the title, which
is curious:

'The Doctrines of a Middle State between Death and the Resurrection:
Of Prayers for the Dead: And the Necessity of Purification: plainly
proved from the holy Scriptures, and the Writings of the Fathers of
the Primitive Church: And acknowledged by several learned Fathers and
great Divines of the Church of England and others since the
Reformation. To which is added, an Appendix concerning the Descent of
the Soul of Christ into Hell, while his Body lay in the Grave.
Together with the Judgment of the Reverend Dr Hickes concerning this
Book, so far as relates to a Middle State, particular Judgment, and
Prayers for the Dead as it appeared in the first Edition. And a
Manuscript of the Right Reverend Bishop Overall upon the Subject of a
Middle State, and never before printed. Also, a Preservative against
several of the Errors of the Roman Church, in six small Treatises. By
the Honourable Archibald Campbell.' Folio, 1721.] He engaged to get it
for her grace. He afterwards gave a full history of Mr Archibald
Campbell, which I am sorry I do not recollect particularly. He said,
Mr Campbell had been bred a violent Whig, but afterwards 'kept BETTER
COMPANY, and became a Tory'. He said this with a smile, in pleasant
allusion, as I thought, to the opposition between his own political
principles and those of the duke's clan. He added that Mr Campbell,
after the Revolution, was thrown in gaol on account of his tenets;
but, on application by letter to the old Lord Townshend, was released:
that he always spoke of his Lordship with great gratitude, saying,
'though a WHIG, he had humanity'.

Dr Johnson and I passed some time together, in June 1784, at Pembroke
College, Oxford, with the Reverend Dr Adams, the master, and I having
expressed a regret that my note relative to Mr Archibald Campbell was
imperfect, he was then so good as to write with his own hand, on the
blank page of my Journal, opposite to that which contains what I have
now mentioned, the following paragraph; which, however, is not quite
so full as the narrative he gave at Inveraray:

The Honourable Archibald Campbell was, I believe, the nephew of the
Marquis of Argyle. He began life by engaging in Monmouth's rebellion,
and, to escape the law, lived some time in Surinam. When he returned,
he became zealous for episcopacy and monarchy; and at the Revolution
adhered not only to the Nonjurors, but to those who refused to
communicate with the Church of England, or to be present at any
worship where the usurper was mentioned as king. He was, I believe,
more than once apprehended in the reign of King William, and once at
the accession of George. He was the familiar friend of Hicks and
Nelson; a man of letters, but injudicious; and very curious and
inquisitive, but credulous. He lived in 1743, or 44, about 75 years
old.

The subject of luxury having been introduced, Dr Johnson defended it.
'We have now,' said he, 'a splendid dinner before us. Which of all
these dishes is unwholsome?' The duke asserted, that he had observed
the grandees of Spain diminished in their size by luxury. Dr Johnson
politely refrained from opposing directly an observation which the
duke himself had made; but said, 'Man must be very different from
other animals, if he is diminished by good living; for the size of all
other animals is increased by it.' I made some remark that seemed to
imply a belief in second sight. The duchess said, 'I fancy you will be
a METHODIST.' This was the only sentence her grace deigned to utter to
me; and I take it for granted, she thought it a good hit on my
CREDULITY in the Douglas cause.

A gentleman in company, after dinner, was desired by the duke to go to
another room, for a specimen of curious marble, which his grace wished
to shew us. He brought a wrong piece, upon which the duke sent him
back again. He could not refuse; but, to avoid any appearance of
servility, he whistled as he walked out of the room, to show his
independency. On my mentioning this afterwards to Dr Johnson, he said,
it was a nice trait of character.

Dr Johnson talked a great deal, and was so entertaining, that Lady
Betty Hamilton, after dinner, went and placed her chair close to his,
leaned upon the back of it, and listened eagerly. It would have made a
fine picture to have drawn the Sage and her at this time in their
several attitudes. He did not know, all the while, how much he was
honoured. I told him afterwards. I never saw him so gentle and
complaisant as this day.

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