THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14.
When Dr. Johnson awaked this morning, he called ‘Lanky!’ having, I suppose, been thinking of Langton; but corrected himself instantly, and cried, ‘Bozzy!’ He has a way of contracting the names of his friends. Goldsmith feels himself so important now, as to be displeased at it. I remember one day, when Tom Davies was telling that Dr. Johnson said, We are all in labour for a name to Goldy’s play,’ Goldsmith cried ‘I have often desired him not to call me Goldy.’
Between six and seven we hauled our anchor, and set sail with a fair breeze; and, after a pleasant voyage, we got safely and agreeably into the harbour of Tobermorie, before the wind rose, which it always has done, for some days, about noon. Tobermorie is an excellent harbour. An island lies before it, and it is surrounded by a hilly theatre. The island is too low, otherwise this would be quite a secure port; but, the island not being a sufficient protection, some storms blow very hard here. Not long ago, fifteen vessels were blown from their moorings. There are sometimes sixty or seventy sail here: to-day there were twelve or fourteen vessels. To see such a fleet was the next thing to seeing a town. The vessels were from different places; Clyde, Campbelltown, Newcastle, &c. One was returning to Lancaster from Hamburgh. After having been shut up so long in Col, the sight of such an assemblage of moving habitations, containing such a variety of people, engaged in different pursuits, gave me much gaiety of spirit. When we had landed, Dr. Johnson said, ‘Boswell is now all alive. He is like Antaeus; he gets new vigour whenever he touches the ground.’ I went to the top of a hill fronting the harbour, from whence I had a good view of it. We had here a tolerable inn. Dr. Johnson had owned to me this morning, that he was out of humour. Indeed, he shewed it a good deal in the ship; for when I was expressing my joy on the prospect of our landing in Mull, he said, he had no joy, when he recollected that it would be five days before he should get to the main land. I was afraid he would now take a sudden resolution to give up seeing Icolmkill. A dish of tea, and some good bread and butter, did him service, and his bad humour went off. I told him, that I was diverted to hear all the people whom we had visited in our tour, say, ‘Honest man! he’s pleased with every thing; he’s always content!’— ‘Little do they know,’ said I. He laughed, and said, ‘You rogue!’
We sent to hire horses to carry us across the island of Mull to the shore opposite to Inchkenneth, the residence of Sir Allan M’Lean, uncle to young Col, and Chief of the M’Leans, to whose house we intended to go the next day. Our friend Col went to visit his aunt, the wife of Dr. Alexander M’Lean, a physician, who lives about a mile from Tobermorie.
Dr. Johnson and I sat by ourselves at the inn, and talked a good deal. I told him, that I had found, in Leandro Alberti’s Description of Italy, much of what Addison has given us in his Remarks. He said, ‘The collection of passages from the Classicks has been made by another Italian: it is, however, impossible to detect a man as a plagiary in such a case, because all who set about making such a collection must find the same passages; but, if you find the same applications in another book, then Addison’s learning in his Remarks tumbles down. It is a tedious book; and, if it were not attached to Addison’s previous reputation, one would not think much of it. Had he written nothing else, his name would not have lived. Addison does not seem to have gone deep in Italian literature: he shews nothing of it in his subsequent writings. He shews a great deal of French learning. There is, perhaps, more knowledge circulated in the French language than in any other. There is more original knowledge in English.’ ‘But the French (said I) have the art of accommodating literature.’ JOHNSON. ‘Yes, Sir: we have no such book as Moreri’s Dictionary.’ BOSWELL. ‘Their Ana are good.’ JOHNSON. ‘A few of them are good; but we have one book of that kind better than any of them; Selden’s Table-talk. As to original literature, the French have a couple of tragick poets who go round the world, Racine and Corneille, and one comick poet, Moliere.’ BOSWELL. ‘They have Fenelon.’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, Telemachus is pretty well.’ BOSWELL. ‘And Voltaire, Sir.’ JOHNSON. ‘He has not stood his trial yet. And what makes Voltaire chiefly circulate is collection; such as his Universal History.’ BOSWELL. ‘What do you say to the Bishop of Meaux?’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, nobody reads him.’ He would not allow Massilon and Bourdaloue to go round the world. In general, however, he gave the French much praise for their industry.
He asked me whether he had mentioned, in any of the papers of the Rambler, the description in Virgil of the entrance into Hell, with an application to the press; ‘for (said he) I do not much remember them.’ I told him, ‘No.’ Upon which he repeated it: —
‘Vestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus orci,
Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curae;
Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque Senectus,
Et metus, et malesuada Fames, et turpis Egestas,
Terribiles visu formae; Lethumque, Laborque.’
‘Now, (said he) almost all these apply exactly to an authour: all these are the concomitants of a printing-house. I proposed to him to dictate an essay on it, and offered to write it. He said, he would not do it then, but perhaps would write one at some future period.
The Sunday evening that we sat by ourselves at Aberdeen, I asked him several particulars of his life, from his early years, which he readily told me; and I wrote them down before him. This day I proceeded in my inquiries, also writing them in his presence. I have them on detached sheets. I shall collect authentick materials for THE LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.; and, if I survive him, I shall be one who will most faithfully do honour to his memory. I have now a vast treasure of his conversation, at different times, since the year 1762, when I first obtained his acquaintance; and, by assiduous inquiry, I can make up for not knowing him sooner.
A Newcastle ship-master, who happened to be in the house, intruded himself upon us. He was much in liquor, and talked nonsense about his being a man for Wilkes and Liberty, and against the ministry. Dr. Johnson was angry, that ‘a fellow should come into our company, who was fit for no company.’ He left us soon.
Col returned from his aunt, and told us, she insisted that we should come to her house that night. He introduced to us Mr. Campbell, the Duke of Argyle’s factor in Tyr-yi. He was a genteel, agreeable man. He was going to Inverary, and promised to put letters into the post-office for us. I now found that Dr. Johnson’s desire to get on the main land, arose from his anxiety to have an opportunity of conveying letters to his friends.
After dinner, we proceeded to Dr. M’Lean’s, which was about a mile from our inn. He was not at home, but we were received by his lady and daughter, who entertained us so well, that Dr. Johnson seemed quite happy. When we had supped, he asked me to give him some paper to write letters. I begged he would write short ones, and not expatiate, as we ought to set off early. He was irritated by this, and said, ‘What must be done; must be done: the thing is past a joke.’ ‘Nay, Sir, (said I,) write as much as you please; but do not blame me, if we are kept six days before we get to the main land. You were very impatient in the morning: but no sooner do you find yourself in good quarters, than you forget that you are to move.’ I got him paper enough, and we parted in good humour.
Let me now recollect whatever particulars I have omitted. In the morning I said to him, before we landed at Tobermorie, ‘We shall see Dr. M’Lean, who has written The History of the M’Leans’. JOHNSON. ‘I have no great patience to stay to hear the history of the M’Leans. I would rather hear the History of the Thrales.’ When on Mull, I said, ‘Well, Sir, this is the fourth of the Hebrides that we have been upon.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, we cannot boast of the number we have seen. We thought we should see many more. We thought of sailing about easily from island to island; and so we should, had we come at a better season; but we, being wise men, thought it would be summer all the year where we were. However, Sir, we have seen enough to give us a pretty good notion of the system of insular life.’
Let me not forget, that he sometimes amused himself
with very slight reading; from which, however, his conversation shewed that he contrived to extract some benefit. At Captain M’Lean’s he read a good deal in The Charmer, a collection of songs.
We this morning found that we could not proceed, there being a violent storm of wind and rain, and the rivers being impassable. When I expressed my discontent at our confinement, Dr. Johnson said, ‘Now that I have had an opportunity of writing to the main land, I am in no such haste.’ I was amused with his being so easily satisfied; for the truth was, that the gentleman who was to convey our letters, as I was now informed, was not to set out for Inverary for some time; so that it was probable we should be there as soon as he: however, I did not undeceive my friend, but suffered him to enjoy his fancy.
Dr. Johnson asked, in the evening, to see Dr. M’Lean’s books. He took down Willis de Anima Brutorum, and pored over it a good deal.
Miss M’Lean produced some Erse poems by John M’Lean, who was a famous bard in Mull, and had died only a few years ago. He could neither read nor write. She read and translated two of them; one, a kind of elegy on Sir John M’Lean’s being obliged to fly his country in 1715; another, a dialogue between two Roman Catholick young ladies, sisters, whether it was better to be a nun or to marry. I could not perceive much poetical imagery in the translation. Yet all of our company who understood Erse, seemed charmed with the original. There may, perhaps, be some choice of expression, and some excellence of arrangement, that cannot be shewn in translation.
After we had exhausted the Erse poems, of which Dr. Johnson said nothing, Miss M’Lean gave us several tunes on a spinnet, which, though made so long ago as in 1667, was still very well toned. She sung along with it. Dr. Johnson seemed pleased with the musick, though he owns he neither likes it, nor has hardly any perception of it. At Mr. M’Pherson’s, in Slate, he told us, that ‘he knew a drum from a trumpet, and a bagpipe from a guittar, which was about the extent of his knowledge of musick.’ To-night he said, that, ‘if he had learnt musick, he should have been afraid he would have done nothing else but play. It was a method of employing the mind without the labour of thinking at all, and with some applause from a man’s self.’
We had the musick of the bagpipe every day, at Armidale, Dunvegan, and Col. Dr. Johnson appeared fond of it, and used often to stand for some time with his ear close to the great drone.
The penurious gentleman of our acquaintance, formerly alluded to, afforded us a topick of conversation to-night. Dr. Johnson said, I ought to write down a collection of the instances of his narrowness, as they almost exceeded belief. Col told us, that O’Kane, the famous Irish harper, was once at that gentleman’s house. He could not find in his heart to give him any money, but gave him a key for a harp, which was finely ornamented with gold and silver, and with a precious stone, and was worth eighty or a hundred guineas. He did not know the value of it; and when he came to know it, he would fain have had it back; but O’Kane took care that he should not. JOHNSON. ‘They exaggerate the value; every body is so desirous that he should be fleeced. I am very willing it should be worth eighty or a hundred guineas; but I do not believe it.’ BOSWELL. ‘I do not think O’Kane was obliged to give it back.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir. If a man with his eyes open, and without any means used to deceive him, gives me a thing, I am not to let him have it again when he grows wiser. I like to see how avarice defeats itself: how, when avoiding to part with money, the miser gives something more valuable.’ Col said, the gentleman’s relations were angry at his giving away the harp-key, for it had been long in the family. JOHNSON. ‘Sir, he values a new guinea more than an old friend.’
Col also told us, that the same person having come up with a serjeant and twenty men, working on the high road, he entered into discourse with the serjeant, and then gave him sixpence for the men to drink. The serjeant asked, ‘Who is this fellow?’. Upon being informed, he said, ‘If I had known who he was, I should have thrown it in his face.’ JOHNSON. ‘There is much want of sense in all this. He had no business to speak with the serjeant. He might have been in haste, and trotted on. He has not learnt to be a miser: I believe we must take him apprentice.’ BOSWELL. ‘He would grudge giving half a guinea to be taught.’ JOHNSON. ‘Nay, Sir, you must teach him gratis. You must give him an opportunity to practice your precepts.’
Let me now go back, and glean Johnsoniana. The Saturday before we sailed from Slate, I sat awhile in the afternoon, with Dr. Johnson in his room, in a quiet serious frame. I observed, that hardly any man was accurately prepared for dying; but almost every one left something undone, something in confusion; that my father, indeed, told me he knew one man, (Carlisle of Limekilns,) after whose death all his papers were found in exact order; and nothing was omitted in his will. JOHNSON. ‘Sir, I had an uncle who died so; but such attention requires great leisure, and great firmness of mind. If one was to think constantly of death, the business of life would stand still. I am no friend to making religion appear too hard. Many good people have done harm by giving severe notions of it. In the same way, as to learning: I never frighten young people with difficulties; on the contrary, I tell them that they may very easily get as much as will do very well. I do not indeed tell them that they will be Bentleys!
The night we rode to Col’s house, I said, ‘Lord Elibank is probably wondering what is become of us.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, no; he is not thinking of us.’ BOSWELL. ‘But recollect the warmth with which he wrote. Are we not to believe a man, when he says he has a great desire to see another? Don’t you believe that I was very impatient for your coming to Scotland?’ JOHNSON. ‘Yes, Sir; I believe you were; and I was impatient to come to you. A young man feels so, but seldom an old man.’ I however convinced him that Lord Elibank, who has much of the spirit of a young man, might feel so. He asked me if our jaunt had answered expectation. I said it had much exceeded it. I expected much difficulty with him, and had not found it. ‘And (he added) wherever we have come, we have been received like princes in their progress.’
He said, he would not wish not to be disgusted in the Highlands; for that would be to lose the power of distinguishing, and a man might then lie down in the middle of them. He wished only to conceal his disgust.
At Captain M’Lean’s, I mentioned Pope’s friend, Spence. JOHNSON. ‘He was a weak conceited man.’ BOSWELL. ‘A good scholar, Sir?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, no, Sir.’ BOSWELL. ‘He was a pretty scholar.’ JOHNSON. ‘You have about reached him.’
Last night at the inn, when the factor in Tyr-yi spoke of his having heard that a roof was put on some part of the buildings at Icolmkill, I unluckily said, ‘It will be fortunate if we find a cathedral with a roof on it.’ I said this from a foolish anxiety to engage Dr. Johnson’s curiosity more. He took me short at once. ‘What, Sir? how can you talk so? If we shall find a cathedral roofed! as if we were going to a terra incognita; when every thing that is at Icolmkill is so well known. You are like some New-England-men who came to the mouth of the Thames. “Come, (say they,) let us go up and see what sort of inhabitants there are here.” They talked, Sir, as if they had been to go up the Susquehannah, or any other American river.’
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 16.
This day there was a new moon, and the weather changed for the better. Dr. Johnson said of Miss M’Lean, ‘She is the most accomplished lady that I have found in the Highlands. She knows French, musick, and drawing, sews neatly, makes shellwork, and can milk cows; in short, she can do every thing. She talks sensibly, and is the first person whom I have found, that can translate Erse poetry literally.’ We set out, mounted on little Mull horses. Mull corresponded exactly with the idea which I had always had of it; a hilly country, diversified with heath and grass, and many rivulets. Dr. Johnson was not in very good humour. He said, it was a dreary country, much worse than Sky. I differed from him. ‘O, Sir, (said he,) a most dolorous country!’
We had a very hard journey to-day. I had no bridle for my sheltie, but only a halter; and Joseph rode without a saddle. At one place, a loch having swelled over th
e road, we were obliged to plunge through pretty deep water. Dr. Johnson observed, how helpless a man would be, were he travelling here alone, and should meet with any accident; and said, ‘he longed to get to a country of saddles and bridles’ He was more out of humour to-day, than he has been in the course of our Tour, being fretted to find that his little horse could scarcely support his weight; and having suffered a loss, which, though small in itself, was of some consequence to him, while travelling the rugged steeps of Mull, where he was at times obliged to walk. The loss that I allude to was that of the large oak-stick, which, as I formerly mentioned, he had brought with him from London. It was of great use to him in our wild peregrination; for, ever since his last illness in 1766, he has had a weakness in his knees, and has not been able to walk easily. It had too the properties of a measure; for one nail was driven into it at the length of a foot; another at that of a yard. In return for the services it had done him, he said, this morning he would make a present of it to some Museum; but he little thought he was so soon to lose it. As he preferred riding with a switch, it was entrusted to a fellow to be delivered to our baggage-man, who followed us at some distance; but we never saw it more. I could not persuade him out of a suspicion that it had been stolen. ‘No, no, my friend, (said he,) it is not to be expected that any man in Mull, who has got it, will part with it. Consider, Sir, the value of such a piece of timber here!’
Complete Works of Samuel Johnson Page 850