Transcriber's note:

 Inconsistencies and idiosyncrasies of spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, capitalization, and use of diacriticals are preserved as they appear in the original text. 

BOSWELL'S

CORRESPONDENCE

WITH THE HONOURABLE

ANDREW ERSKINE

AND HIS

JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO CORSICA

(Reprinted from the Original Editions)

Edited

With a Preface, Introduction, and Notes

by

GEORGE BIRKBECK HILL, D. C. L. 

Author of "Dr. Johnson: His Friends and His Critics. "

London:Thos. De La Rue & Co. 1879

Printed byThomas De La Rue and Co. , Bunhill Row, London. 

CONTENTS. 

PREFACE i

LETTERS BETWEEN THE HONOURABLE ANDREW ERSKINE AND JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. 3

INTRODUCTION TO THE JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO CORSICA 101

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 125

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION 135

THE JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO CORSICA 137

APPENDIX 239

BOSWELL AND ERSKINE'S LETTERS. 

PREFACE. 

Boswell did not bring out his "Life of Johnson" till he was past hisfiftieth year. His "Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides" had appeared morethan five years earlier. While it is on these two books that his famerests, yet to the men of his generation he was chiefly known for hiswork on Corsica and for his friendship with Paoli. His admiration forJohnson he had certainly proclaimed far and wide. He had long been off, in the words of his father, "wi' the land-louping scoundrel of aCorsican, and had pinned himself to a dominie--an auld dominie whokeeped a schule and cau'd it an acaadamy. " Nevertheless it was toCorsica and its heroic chief that he owed the position that heundoubtedly held among men of letters. He was Corsica Boswell and PaoliBoswell long before he became famous as Johnson Boswell. 

It has been shown elsewhere[1] what a spirited thing it was in thisyoung Scotchman to make his way into an island, the interior of which notraveller from this country had ever before visited. The Mediterraneanstill swarmed with Turkish corsairs, while Corsica itself was in a veryunsettled condition. It had been computed that, till Paoli took the ruleand held it with a firm hand, the state had lost no less than 800subjects every year by assassination. Boswell, as he tells us in hisJournal, had been warned by an officer of rank in the British Navy, whohad visited several of the ports, of the risk he ran to his life ingoing among these "barbarians. " Moreover a state of hostility existedbetween the Corsicans and the Republic of Genoa--which, the year beforeBoswell's visit, had obtained the assistance of France. The interior ofthe island was still held by Paoli, but many of the seaport towns weregarrisoned by the French and the Genoese. At the time of Boswell's visitwar was not being actively carried on, for the French commander had beeninstructed merely to secure these points, and not to undertake offensiveoperations against the natives. From the Journal that Boswell gives, wesee that when once he had landed he ran no risks; but it is not everyyoung man who, when out on his travels, leaves the safe and beaten roundto go into a country that is almost unknown, and to prove to others thatthere also safety is to be found. With good reason did Johnson write tohim--"Come home and expect such welcome as is due to him whom a wise andnoble curiosity has led where perhaps no native of this country ever wasbefore. " With scarcely less reason did Paoli say, "A man come fromCorsica will be like a man come from the Antipodes. "

[Footnote 1: "Dr. Johnson: His Friends and His Critics. " By GeorgeBirkbeck Hill, D. C. L. Smith, Elder & Co. ]

How strongly his journey and his narrative touched the hearts of peopleat home may still be read in Mrs. Barbauld's fine lines on Corsica:--

 "Such were the working thoughts which swelled the breast Of generous Boswell; when with nobler aim And views beyond the narrow beaten track By trivial fancy trod, he turned his course From polished Gallia's soft delicious vales, From the grey reliques of imperial Rome, From her long galleries of laureled stone, Her chiseled heroes and her marble gods, Whose dumb majestic pomp yet awes the world, To animated forms of patriot zeal; Warm in the living majesty of virtue; Elate with fearless spirit; firm; resolved; By fortune nor subdued; nor awed by power. "[2]

[Footnote 2: "Mrs. Barbauld's Poems, " vol. I. , p. 2. It is certainlystrange that Boswell, so far as I know, nowhere quotes these lines. Hewas not wont to let the world remain in ignorance of any compliment thathad been paid him. I fear that he was rather ashamed at finding himselfpraised by a writer who was not only a woman, but also was the wife of"a little presbyterian parson who kept an infant boarding school. "]

Gray was moved greatly by the account given of Paoli. "He is a man, " hewrote, "born two thousand years after his time. " Horace Walpole hadwritten to beg him to read the book. "What relates to Paoli, " he said, "will amuse you much. " What merely amused Walpole "moved" Gray"strangely. " It moved others besides him. Subscriptions were raised forthe Corsicans, and money and arms were sent to them from this country. Boswell writes to tell his friend Temple--"I have hopes that ourGovernment will interfere. In the meantime, by a private subscription inScotland, I am sending this week £700 worth of ordnance. " Othersubscriptions were forwarded which Paoli, as is told in a letter fromhim published in the "Gentleman's Magazine, "[3] "applied to the supportof the families of those patriots who, abhorring a foreign yoke, haveabandoned their houses and estates in that part of the country held bythe enemy, and have retired to join our army. "

[Footnote 3: "Gentleman's Magazine, " vol. Xxxix. , p. 214. ]

Boswell's work met with a rapid sale. The copyright he sold to Dilly forone hundred guineas. The publisher must have made no small gain by thebargain, for a third edition was called for within a year. "My book, "writes Boswell, "has amazing celebrity: Lord Lyttelton, Mr. Walpole, Mrs. Macaulay, Mr. Garrick have all written me noble letters about it. "With his Lordship's letter he was so much delighted that in the thirdedition he obtained leave to use it to "enrich" his book. Johnsonpronounced his Journal in a very high degree curious and delightful. Itis surprising that a work which thus delighted Johnson, moved Graystrangely, and amused Horace Walpole, can now be met with only in oldlibraries and on the shelves of a dealer in second-hand books. I doubtwhether a new edition has been published in the last hundred years. Itis still more surprising when we remember that it is the work of anauthor who has written a book "that is likely to be read as long as theEnglish exists, either as a living or as a dead language. " Theexplanation of this, I take it, is to be found in the distinction thatJohnson draws between Boswell's Account of Corsica, which forms morethan two-thirds of the whole book, and the Journal of his Tour. Hishistory, he said, was like other histories. It was copied from books. His Journal rose out of his own experience and observation. His historywas read, and perhaps read with eagerness, because at the time when itappeared there was a strong interest felt in the Corsicans. In despairof maintaining their independence, they had been willing to placethemselves and their island entirely under the protection of GreatBritain. The offer had been refused, but they still hoped for ourassistance. Not a few Englishmen felt with Lord Lyttelton when hewrote--"I wish with you that our Government had shown more respect forCorsican liberty, and I think it disgraces our nation that we do notlive in good friendship with a brave people engaged in the noblest ofall contests, a contest against tyranny. " But in such a contest as thisCorsica was before long to play a different part. Scarcely four yearsafter Boswell from some distant hill "had a fine view of Ajaccio and itsenvirons, " that town was rendered famous by the birth of NapoleonBuonaparte. 

With whatever skill Boswell's history had been compiled it could nothave lived. There were not, indeed, the materials out of which a historythat should last could have been formed. The whole island boasted of butone printing press and one bookseller's shop. The feuds and wars of thewild islanders might have lived in the songs of the poet, but werelittle fit for the purposes of the historian. He who attempts to writethe history of such a people is almost forced to accept tradition forfact, and to believe in their Arthurs and their Tells. The Corsicansare, indeed, from time to time found in one or other of the great tracksof European history. As Boswell says, their island had belonged to thePhoenicians, the Etruscans, the Carthaginians, the Romans, the Goths, and the Saracens. It had been conquered by France, and had been made agift from that kingdom to the Pope. It had been given by the Pope to thePisans, and from them had passed to the Republic of Genoa. It hadundergone strange and rapid revolutions, but they were those commonrevolutions that befall a wild race that lives in the midst of powerfulneighbours. 

Boswell, unsurpassed though he is as a biographer, admirable as he is asa writer of a Journal, yet had little of the stuff out of which anhistorian is made. His compilation is a creditable performance for ayoung man who had but lately returned home from his travels. Itcertainly adds nothing to the reputation of the author of the "Life ofJohnson. " But while it lies overwhelmed with deserved neglect, it oughtnot to drag down with it the Journal of his Tour. That portion of thework is lively, is interesting, and is brief. It can be read withpleasure now, as it was read with pleasure when it first appeared. But, besides this, it is interesting to us as the early work of a writerwhose mind has been a puzzle to men of letters. Even should we acceptMacaulay's judgment on Boswell, and despise him as he despises him, yetit must surely be worth while to examine closely the early writings ofan author, who has, "in an important department of literature, immeasurably surpassed such writers as Tacitus, Clarendon, Alfieri, andhis own idol Johnson. "[4] This Journal is like the youthful sketch ofsome great artist. It exhibits the merits which, later on, distinguished, in so high a degree the mature writer. 

[Footnote 4: "Macaulay's Essays, " vol. I. , p. 377. ]

Together with the "Journal of a Tour to Corsica, " I am reprinting avolume of letters that passed between Boswell and his friend TheHonourable Andrew Erskine. Lively and amusing though they often are, yet I should not have proposed to republish them did not they throwalmost as much light on Boswell's character as the Journal throws lighton his powers as a writer. In his account of Corsica, there is a passagein which, while describing the historian Petrus Cyrnaeus, he at the sametime describes himself. "The fourth book of Petrus Cyrnaeus, " he says, "is entirely taken up with an account of his own wretched vagabond life, full of strange, whimsical anecdotes. He begins it very gravely:'Quoniam ad hunc locum perventum est, non alienum videtur de Petri quihaec scripsit vita et moribus proponere. ' 'Since we are come thus far itwill not be amiss to say something of the life and manners of Petrus, who writeth this history. ' He gives a very excellent character ofhimself, and, I dare say, a very faithful one. But so minute is hisnarration, that he takes care to inform posterity that he was veryirregular in his method of walking, and that he preferred sweet wine tohard. In short, he was a man of considerable parts, with a greatsimplicity and oddity of character. "

To the simplicity and oddity of character that Boswell shared with thislearned historian, there was certainly added not a little impudence. Itwas an impudence that was lively and amusing; but none the less was itdownright impudence. We are amazed at the audacity with which two youngmen ventured to publish to the world the correspondence which had passedbetween them when they were scarcely of age. In fact, the earlierletters were written when Boswell was but twenty. Their justificationonly increases their offence. "Curiosity, " they say, "is the mostprevalent of all our passions; and the curiosity for reading letters, isthe most prevalent of all kinds of curiosity. Had any man in the threekingdoms found the following letters, directed, sealed, and adorned withpostmarks, --provided he could have done it honestly--he would have readevery one of them. " There is this, however, that makes us always lookwith a certain indulgence on Boswell. He never plays the hypocrite. Helikes praise, he likes to be talked about, he likes to know greatpeople, and he no more cares to conceal his likings than Sancho Panzacared to conceal his appetite. Three pullets and a couple of geese werebut so much scum, which Don Quixote's squire whipped off to stay hisstomach till dinner-time. By the time Boswell was six-and-twenty hecould boast that he had made the acquaintance of Adam Smith, Robertson, Hume, Johnson, Goldsmith, Wilkes, Garrick, Horace Walpole, Voltaire, Rousseau, and Paoli. He had twice at least received a letter from theEarl of Chatham. But his appetite for knowing great men could never besatisfied. These might stay his stomach for a while, but more would bepresently wanted. At the time when he published this volume of Lettershe seems to have had some foresight into his future life. "I amthinking, " he says, "of the intimacies which I shall form with thelearned and ingenious in every science, and of the many amusing literaryanecdotes which I shall pick up. " When fame did come upon him by hisbook on Corsica, no one could have relished it more. "I am really the_great man_ now, " he writes to his friend Temple. "I have had David Humein the forenoon, and Mr. Johnson in the afternoon of the same dayvisiting me. Sir John Pringle, Dr. Franklin, and some more company dinedwith me to-day; and Mr. Johnson and General Oglethorpe one day, Mr. Garrick alone another, and David Hume and some more _literati_ another, dine with me next week. I give admirable dinners and good claret; andthe moment I go abroad again, which will be in a day or two, I set up mychariot. This is enjoying the fruit of my labours, and appearing likethe friend of Paoli. .. . David Hume came on purpose the other day to tellme that the Duke of Bedford was very fond of my book, and hadrecommended it to the Duchess. "

In the preface to the third edition, he says, --"When I first ventured tosend my book into the world, I fairly owned an ardent desire forliterary fame. I have obtained my desire: and whatever clouds mayovercast my days, I can now walk here among the rocks and woods of myancestors, with an agreeable consciousness that I have done somethingworthy. " It was about this time that, writing to the great Earl ofChatham, he said--"I can labour hard; I feel myself coming forward, andI hope to be useful to my country. Could your Lordship find time tohonour me now and then with a letter? I have been told how favourablyyour Lordship has spoken of me. To correspond with a Paoli and aChatham, is enough to keep a young man ever ardent in the pursuit ofvirtuous fame. "[5]

[Footnote 5: "Chatham Correspondence, " vol. Iii. , p. 246. ]

A few months before his account of Corsica was published, he had fixedupon the date of its publication as the period when he should steadilybegin that pursuit of virtuous fame, which now was to be secured bycorrespondence with a Paoli and a Chatham. "I am always for fixing someperiod, " he wrote, "for my perfection, as far as possible. Let it bewhen my account of Corsica is published; I shall then have a characterwhich I must support. " Unhappily the time for his perfection was againand again put off. Johnson, in speaking of Derrick, said--"Derrick maydo very well, as long as he can outrun his character; but the moment hischaracter gets up with him, it is all over. " With Boswell, just theopposite was the case. He soon acquired a character--a character whichhe was bound to support. But he could never get up with it. The friendof Paoli, the friend of Johnson, was, unhappily, given to drink. The gayspirits and lively health of youth supported him for a while; but, evenin these early days, he was too often troubled with that depression ofspirit which follows on a debauch. But, as time passed on, and the habitgrew stronger upon him, his health began to give way, and hischeerfulness of mind to desert him. He lived but four years after thepublication of his great work. 

In the preface to the second edition of the "Life of Johnson" he showshis delight in his fame. "There are some men, I believe, who have, orthink they have, a very small share of vanity. Such may speak of theirliterary fame in a decorous state of diffidence. But I confess that I amso formed by nature and by habit, that to restrain the effusion ofdelight on having obtained such fame, to me would be truly painful. Why, then, should I suppress it? Why, 'out of the abundance of the heart, 'should I not speak?" This preface bears the date of July 1, 1793. Onlyten days earlier he had written to tell Temple how he had been drinking, and had been robbed. "The robbery is only of a few shillings; but thecut on my head and bruises on my arms were sad things, and confined meto bed in pain, and fever, and helplessness, as a child, many days. .. . This shall be a crisis in my life: I trust I shall henceforth be asober, regular man. Indeed, my indulgence in wine has, of late yearsespecially, been excessive. .. . Your suggestion as to my being carriedoff in a state of intoxication, is awful. I thank you for it, my dearfriend. It impressed me much, I assure you. " It was too late in life toform resolutions. A year later he was again "resolved anew to be uponhis guard. " In the May of 1795, he died, after an illness of greatsuffering. To him might be applied some of the lines which the greatpoet who lived so near him wrote as his own epitaph:--

 "He keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stain'd his name. "

Boswell had, indeed, but little of that "prudent, cautious, self-control, " which, as Burns tells us, "is wisdom's root. " It is a sadthought that at the very same time the two most famous writers thatAyrshire can boast, men whose homes were but a few miles apart, were atthe same time drinking themselves to death. Burns outlived Boswelllittle more than a year. 

Boswell was fifty-four years old when he died. Greatly as he relishedwine, he relished fame still more. He had worked hard for fame, and hehad fairly earned it; but in its full flush his intemperance swept himaway. There can be little question that his first triumph in the fieldof letters, his book on Corsica brought him far greater pleasure thanhis "Life of Johnson, " by which his name will live. Perhaps the happiestday in his life was when, at the Shakespeare Jubilee, he entered theamphitheatre in the dress of a Corsican chief. "On the front of his capwas embroidered, in gold letters, "_Viva la Libertà_, " and on the sideof it was a handsome blue feather and cockade, so that it had an elegantas well as a warlike appearance. " "So soon as he came into the room, "says the account in the "London Magazine, " written, no doubt, byhimself, "he drew universal attention. " The applause that his "Life ofJohnson" brought him was, no doubt, far greater, but then, as I havesaid, his health was breaking, and his fine spirits were impaired. Hewho would know Boswell at his happiest--when he was, as Hume describedhim, very good humoured, very agreeable, and very mad, must read hisvolume of Letters, and the Journals of his Tours to Corsica and theHebrides. 

LETTERS

BETWEEN

THE HONOURABLE

ANDREW ERSKINE, AND

JAMES BOSWELL, Esq;

LONDON:Printed by SAMUEL CHANDLER;For W. FLEXNEY, near Gray's-Inn-Gate, Holborn. MDCCLXIII. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

Curiosity is the most prevalent of all our passions; and the curiosityfor reading letters, is the most prevalent of all kinds of curiosity. Had any man in the three Kingdoms found the following letters, directed, sealed, and adorned with postmarks, --provided he could have done ithonestly--he would have read every one of them; or, had they beenushered into the world, from Mr. Flexney's shop, in that manner, theywould have been bought up with the greatest avidity. As they really oncehad all the advantages of concealment, we hope their present moreconspicuous form will not tend to diminish their merit. They have madeourselves laugh; we hope they will have the same effect upon otherpeople. 

LETTERS. 

 [In a Memoir of James Boswell, [6] by the Rev. Charles Rogers, a short account is given of the Hon. Andrew Erskine, Boswell's correspondent. He was the youngest son of Alexander, fifth Earl of Kellie. He served in the army for some years. After his retirement he settled at Edinburgh. "His habits were regular, but he indulged occasionally at cards, and was partial to the game of whist. Having sustained a serious loss at his favourite pastime, he became frantic, and threw himself into the Forth and perished. " Burns, writing to his friend Thomson, October, 1793, says--"Your last letter, my dear Thomson, was indeed laden with heavy news. Alas, poor Erskine! The recollection that he was a coadjutor in your publication has, till now, scared me from writing to you, or turning my thoughts on composing for you. " "He was, " adds Dr. Rogers, "of a tall, portly form, and to the last wore gaiters and a flapped vest. " By this last description Dr. Rogers's readers may be pleasantly reminded of an anecdote that is given for the first time, I believe, in his book. "Dr. Johnson used to laugh at a passage in Carte's 'Life of the Duke of Ormond, ' where he gravely observed that 'he was always in full dress when he went to Court; too many being in the practice of going thither with double lapells. '" As poor Erskine "wore to the last his gaiters and a flapped vest, " no doubt he had them on when he drowned himself. --ED. ]

[Footnote 6: "Boswelliana: The Commonplace Book of James Boswell. " Witha Memoir and Annotations, by the Rev. Charles Rogers, LL. D. London:Printed for the Grampian Club, 1874. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER I. 

Auchinleck, Aug. 25, 1761. 

Dear ERSKINE, --No ceremony, I beseech you. Give me your hand. How is myhonest Captain Andrew? How goes it with the elegant gentle Lady A----?the lovely sighing Lady J----? and how, O how does that gloriousluminary Lady B---- do? You see I retain my usual volatility. TheBoswells, you know, came over from Normandy, with William the Conqueror, and some of us possess the spirit of our ancestors the French. I do forone. A pleasant spirit it is. _Vive la Bagatelle_, is the maxim. A lightheart may bid defiance to fortune. And yet, Erskine, I must tell you, that I have been a little pensive of late, amorously pensive, anddisposed to read Shenstone's Pastoral on Absence, the tenderness andsimplicity of which I greatly admire. A man who is in love is like a manwho has got the tooth-ache, he feels most acute pain while nobody pitieshim. In that situation am I at present: but well do I know that I willnot be long so. So much for inconstancy. As this is my first epistle toyou, it cannot in decency be a long one. Pray write to me soon. Yourletters, I prophecy, will entertain me not a little; and will besides beextremely serviceable in many important respects. They will supply mewith oil to my lamps, grease to my wheels, and blacking to my shoes. They will furnish me with strings to my fiddle, lashes to my whip, lining to my breeches, and buttons to my coat. They will make charmingspurs, excellent knee buckles, and inimitable watch-keys. In short, while they last I shall neither want breakfast, dinner, nor supper. Ishall keep a couple of horses, and I shall sleep upon a bed of down. Ishall be in France this year, and in Spain the next; with many otherparticulars too tedious to mention. You may take me in a metaphoricalsense; but I would rather choose to be understood literally. 

I am

Your most affectionate friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER II. 

Kelly, Sept. 11, 1761. 

 HAIL! mighty Boswell! at thy awful name The fainting muse relumes her sinking flame. Behold how high the tow'ring blaze aspires, While fancy's waving pinions fan my fires! Swells the full song? it swells alone from thee; Some spark of thy bright genius kindles me! "But softly, Sir, " I hear you cry, "This wild bombast is rather dry: I hate your d----n'd insipid song, That sullen stalks in lines so long; Come, give us short ones like to Butler, Or, like our friend Auchinleck[7] the cutler. " A Poet, Sir, whose fame is to support, Must ne'er write verses tripping pert and short: Who ever saw a judge himself disgrace, By trotting to the bench with hasty pace? I swear, dear Sir, you're really in the wrong; To make a line that's good, I say, James, make it long. 

[Footnote 7: Pronounced "Affleck. "--ED. ]

You see, Sir, I have quite the best of the argument; and indeed I wasdetermined not to give it up, till you acknowledged yourself vanquished;so to verse I go again, tooth and nail. 

 How well you talk of glory and the guards, Of fighting heroes, and their great rewards! Our eyes behold you glow with martial flame, Our ears attend the never-ceasing theme. Fast from your tongue the rousing accents flow, And horror darkens on your sable brow! We hear the thunder of the rolling war, And see red vict'ry shouting from her car!

 You kindly took me up, an awkward cub, And introduced me to the Soaping-Club;[8] Where ev'ry Tuesday eve our ears are blest With genuine humour, and with genuine jest: The voice of mirth ascends the list'ning sky, While, "soap his own beard, every man, " you cry. Say, who could e'er indulge a yawn or nap, When Barclay roars forth snip, and Bainbridge snap?[9] Tell me how I your favours may return; With thankfulness and gratitude I burn. I've one advice, oh! take it I implore! Search out America's untrodden shore; There seek some vast Savannah rude and wild, Where Europe's sons of slaughter never smil'd, With fiend-like arts, insidious to betray The sooty natives as a lawful prey. At you th' astonish'd savages shall stare, And hail you as a God, and call you fair: Your blooming beauty shall unrivall'd shine, And Captain Andrew's whiteness yield to thine. [10]

[Footnote 8: The Soaping-Club--a Club in Edinburgh, the motto of whichwas, "Every Man soap his own Beard;" or, "Every Man indulge his ownHumour. " Their game was that facetious one, Snip, Snap, Snorum. ]

[Footnote 9: Barclay and Bainbridge, two members of this Club. ]

[Footnote 10: "And Captain Andrew's whiteness, &c. " The writers of theseLetters, instead of being rivals in wit, were rivals in complexion. ]

In reality, I'm under vast obligations to you. It was you who first mademe thoroughly sensible (indeed I very readily believed it) of theexcellencies of my own Poetry; and about that time, I made two wonderfuldiscoveries, to wit, that you was a sensible man, and that I was a goodpoet; discoveries which I dare say are yet doubted by some incredulouspeople. Boswell, I shall not praise your letter, because I know you havean aversion at being thought a genius, or a wit. The reluctance withwhich you always repeat your Cub, [11] and the gravity of countenancewhich you always assume upon that occasion, are convincing proofs ofthis assertion. You hate flattery, too, but in spite of your teeth Imust tell you, that you are the best Poet, and the most humorousletter-writer I know; and that you have a finer complexion, and dancebetter than any man of my acquaintance. For my part, I actually thinkyou would make an excellent champion at the approaching coronation. [12]What though malevolent critics may say you are too little, yet you are aBriareus in comparison of Tydeus the hero of Statius's Thebais; and ifhe was not a warrior, then am I, Andrew Erskine, Lieutenant in the 71stregiment, blind of one eye, hump-backed, and lame in both legs. We alltired so much of the Highlands, that we had not been there three weeksbefore we all came away again. Lady B---- is gone a-visiting, and therest of us are come to Kelly. It was most unaccountable in me to leaveNew-Tarbat; for nowhere will you meet with such fine ingredients forpoetical description. However, we are all going back again when Mr. M---- comes from London; so some time in October you may expect a mostcordial invitation. This is all at present (according to the simple buteloquent expression of the vulgar) from your sincere friend, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

[Footnote 11: In March, 1762, Boswell published "The Cub at Newmarket: aTale. " (Dodsley). --ED. ]

[Footnote 12: George III. Was crowned on September 22nd, of thisyear. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER III. 

Auchinleck, Sept. 14, 1761. 

 Dear Captain Andrew! Poet of renown! Whether the chairmen of Edina's town You curious draw, and make 'em justly speak, To use a vulgar phrase, _as clean's a leek_; Or smart Epistles, Fables, Songs you write, All put together handsome trim and tight; Or when your sweetly plaintive muse does sigh, And elegiac strains you happy try; Or when in ode sublime your genius soars, Which guineas brings to Donaldson by scores; Accept the thanks of ME, as quick as sage, Accept sincerest thanks for ev'ry page, For ev'ry page?--for ev'ry single line Of your rich letter aided by the Nine. [13]

[Footnote 13: The rest of Boswell's verses--more than a hundred innumber--the reader will thank me for omitting. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

You are now so heartily tired, that it would be absolutely barbarous tostun your ears any longer; only give me leave to tell you in one goodround sentence, that your prose is admirable, and that I am just now (atthree o'clock in the morning) sitting over the poor pale remnant of aonce glorious blazing fire, and feasting upon it, till I am all in a_Lather_. 

I cannot stop yet. Allow me a few more words. I live here in a remotecorner of an old ruinous house, where my ancestors have been veryjovial. What a solemn idea rushes on my mind! They are all gone; I mustfollow. Well, and what then? Let me shift about to another subject. Thebest I can think of is a sound sleep. So good night, and believe me, Yours, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER IV. 

Auchinleck, Oct. 10, 1761. 

Dear ERSKINE, --Had Philip of Macedon been saddle-sick with riding up anddown the country after his unruly son Alexander, and been waiting inextreme pain, till the surgeon of the next village brought him emollientrelief, he could not have been more impatient than I am for a return tomy last letter. I thought, indeed, that my firing so great a gun, wouldhave produced a speedy and a suitable echo, and I had no doubt of atleast being paid the interest of a sum so very large. I now give youfair warning, that if something is not speedily done in this affair, Ishall be obliged to take very disagreeable methods. From this way oftalking, I begin to fancy myself a Schoolmaster; a character next tothat of a giant, most terrible to tender minds. Don't think to escapethe rod. Don't think your dignity as a poet will save you from it. Imake no question, but what that acrimonious pedagogue George Buchananhas often applied it to his pupil, and he you know was a poet and a kinginto the bargain. I have been reading the Rosciad. You see my verystudies have tended towards flagellation. Upon my word Churchill[14]does scourge with a vengeance; I should not like to come under hisdiscipline. He is certainly a very able writer. He has great power ofnumbers. 

[Footnote 14: Churchill's "Rosciad" had been published in March of thisyear. --ED. ]

"In manly tides of verse he rolls along. "[15]

[Footnote 15:

 "In manly tides of sense they roll'd along. "

 --"The Rosciad. "--ED. ]

I desire, Erskine, once again, that you may write without delay, otherwise, I shall no longer be

Your affectionate friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER V. 

Kelly, Nov. 1, 1761. 

Dear BOSWELL, --If you could conceive the many twitches of conscience Ihave felt upon your account, the agitations, the compunctions, theremorses, you would certainly forgive me. However, I was beginning toturn callous against all suggestions of writing to you, when your lastletter arrived, which like the day of judgment, made my transgressionsstare me full in the face. Indolence and unwearied stupidity have beenmy constant companions this many a day; and that amiable couple, aboveall things in the world detest letter-writing. Besides, I heard you wasjust going to be married, and as a poet, I durst not approach youwithout an Epithalamium, and an Epithalamium was a thing, which at thattime I could not compass. It was all in vain, that Cupid and Hymen, Junoand Luna, offered their assistance; I had no sort of employment forthem. 

When you and I walked twice round the meadow upon the subject ofmatrimony, I little thought that my difference in opinion from you, would have brought on your marriage so soon; for I can attribute it tono other cause: From this I learn that contradiction is of use insociety; and I shall take care to encourage that humour, or ratherspirit, in myself. As this is the first marriage I ever made, I expectgreat congratulations, especially from you. 

I have been busy furbishing up some old pieces for Donaldson's[16]second volume: I exceed in quantity, twenty Eustace Budgels, accordingto your epistle. Pray what is become of the Cub? Is Dodsley to sell youfor a shilling, or not? I have written one or two new things, an Ode toPity, and an Epistle to the great Donaldson, which is to be printed: Thesubject was promising, but I made nothing of it. I must give overpoetry, and copy epistles out of that elegant treatise the CompleteLetter-Writer. D---- is gone to London, his parting advice to his sisterwas, to keep the key of the coals herself; so I suppose he intends tokeep up his fire, this winter, in parliament, and not to go over thecoals with the ministry. 

[Footnote 16: Donaldson, an Edinburgh bookseller, was bringing out acollection of Original Poems, by the Rev. Mr. Blacklock, and otherScotch gentlemen. Erskine was the editor. --ED. ]

Lady A---- and I set out for New-Tarbat to-morrow. Could you come? Letnothing but wedlock detain you. Oh, Boswell! the soporific effluvia of ahearty dinner cloud all my faculties. I'm as dull as the tolling in ofthe eighth-hour bell, or a neighbour in the country, that pays you anannual visit. At this present moment, I'm astonished how anybody can beclever; and your letter in heroic verse seems more amazing to me than ifthe King of Britain was to send an express for me, to dance a hornpipebefore him, or the King of Prussia was to declare in a manifesto, that Iwas the occasion of the present war. I detest the invention of writing;and nothing could reconcile me to it, but that I can assure you at thisdistance, that I am yours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

There's a genteel conclusion for you. When you come to Edinburgh, I'llsettle an unintermitting correspondence with you. 

 * * * * *

LETTER VI. 

Edinburgh, Nov. 17, 1761. 

Dear ERSKINE, --Much much concern does it give me, to find that you havebeen in such bad spirits as your last most grievously indicates. Ibelieve we great geniuses are all a little subject to the sorcery ofthat whimsical demon the spleen, which indeed we cannot complain of, considering what power of enchantment we ourselves possess, by the sweetmagic of our flowing numbers. I would recommend to you to read Mr. Green's[17] excellent poem upon that subject. He will dispel the cloudsand enliven you immediately. Or if that should not do, you may haverecourse to Xenophon's method, which was boiling potatoes, and peltingthe cats with them, an infallible receipt to promote risibility. 

[Footnote 17: Matthew Green (1696-1737). Author of "The Spleen. "--ED. ]

So you too have listened to the report of my marriage, and must forsoothdisplay a pretty vein of jocularity upon the mournful occasion. Did youreally believe it? If you did, you will never be able to astonish mewith any thing else that is wonderful in your creed, for I shall reckonyour judgment at least three stanzas worse than formerly. 

In the name of every thing that is upside down, what could the peoplemean by marrying me? If they had boiled me into portable soup, orhammered me into horse-shoes, I should not have been greatly surprised. A man who has so deeply pondered on the wonders daily presented to ourview, and who has experienced so many vicissitudes of fortune, as I havedone, can easily make allowance for stranger things than these. But Iown their matrimonial system exceeds my comprehension. 

Happy is it for the world that this affair did not take place. An eventso prodigious must have been attended with very alarming consequences. For my own part, I tremble when I think of it. Damocles, Nero, andRichard the Third, would have appeared amiable princes in comparison ofme. Wherever I went I should have carried horror and devastation, sparing neither sex nor age. All, all should have been sacrificed to myrelentless cruelty. Donaldson is busy printing his second volume. I havemustered up a few verses for him, some old, some new. I will not boastof _them_. But I'll tell you one thing; the volume will be pretty freefrom typographical errors: I have the honour to correct theproof-sheets. My Cub is now with Dodsley. I fancy he will soon make hisappearance in public. I long to see him in his Pall-Mall[18] habit:Though I'm afraid he will look a little awkward. Write to me often. Youshall have the best answers I can give you. 

I remain, yours, JAMES BOSWELL. 

[Footnote 18: Dodsley's shop was in Pall Mall. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER VII. 

New-Tarbat, Nov. 23, 1761. 

Dear BOSWELL, --As we never hear that Demosthenes could broilbeef-steaks, or Cicero poach eggs, we may safely conclude, that thesegentlemen understood nothing of cookery. In like manner it may beconcluded, that you, James Boswell, and I Andrew Erskine, cannot writeserious epistles. This, as Mr. Tristram[19] says, I deny; for thisletter of mine shall contain the quintessence of solidity; it shall be apiece of boiled beef and cabbage, a roasted goose, and a boiled leg ofpork and greens: in one word, it shall contain advice; sage and matureadvice. Oh! James Boswell! take care and don't break your neck; praydon't fracture your skull, and be very cautious in your manner oftumbling down precipices: beware of falling into coal-pits, and don'tdrown yourself in every pool you meet with. Having thus warned you ofthe most material dangers which your youth and inexperience will beready to lead you into, I now proceed to others less momentary indeed, but very necessary to be strictly observed. Go not near theSoaping-Club, never mention Drury-lane Playhouse; be attentive to thosePinchbeck buckles which fortune has so graciously given you, of which Iam afraid you're hardly fond enough; never wash your face, but above allforswear Poetry: from experience I can assure you, and this letter mayserve as a proof, that a man may be as dull in prose as in verse; and asdullness is what we aim at, prose is the easiest of the two. Oh! myfriend! profit by these my instructions; think that you see me studyingfor your advantage, my reverend locks over-shadowing my paper, my handstrembling, and my tongue hanging out, a figure of esteem, affection andveneration. By Heavens! Boswell! I love you more--But this, I think, maybe more conveniently expressed in rhyme

 More than a herd of swine a kennel muddy, More than a brilliant belle polemic study, More than fat Falstaff lov'd a cup of sack, More than a guilty criminal the rack, More than attorneys love by cheats to thrive, And more than witches to be burnt alive. 

[Footnote 19: The first two volumes of Tristram Shandy were publishedtowards the end of 1759. --ED. ]

I begin to be afraid that we shall not see you here this winter; whichwill be a great loss to you. If ever you travel into foreign parts, asMachiavel used to say, everybody abroad will require a description ofNew-Tarbat[20] from you. That you may not appear totally ridiculous andabsurd, I shall send you some little account of it. Imagine then toyourself what Thomson would call an interminable plain, [21] interspersedin a lovely manner with beautiful green hills. The Seasons here are onlyshifted by Summer and Spring. Winter with his fur cap and his cat-skingloves, was never seen in this charming retreat. The Castle is of Gothicstructure, awful and lofty: there are fifty bed-chambers in it, withhalls, saloons, and galleries without number. Mr. M----'s father, whowas a man of infinite humour, caused a magnificent lake to be made, justbefore the entry of the house. His diversion was to peep out of hiswindow, and see the people who came to visit him, skipping throughit;--for there was no other passage--then he used to put on such hugefires to dry their clothes, that there was no bearing them. He used todeclare, that he never thought a man good company till he was halfdrown'd and half burnt; but if in any part of his life he had narrowlyescaped hanging (a thing not uncommon in the Highlands) he wouldperfectly doat upon him, and whenever the story was told him, he wasready to choke himself. But to return. Everything here is in the grandand sublime style. But, alas! some envious magician, with his d----denchantments, has destroyed all these beauties. By his potent art, thehouse with so many bed-chambers in it, cannot conveniently lodge above adozen people. The room which I am writing in, just now, is in reality ahandsome parlour of twenty feet by sixteen; though in my eyes, and toall outward appearance, it seems a garret of six feet by four. Themagnificent lake is a dirty puddle; the lovely plain, a rude wildcountry cover'd with the most astonishing high black mountains: theinhabitants, the most amiable race under the sun, appear now to be theugliest, and look as if they were over-run with the itch. Their delicatelimbs, adorned with the finest silk stockings, are now bare, and verydirty; but to describe all the transformations would take up more paperthan Lady B---- from whom I had this, would choose to give me. My ownmetamorphosis is indeed so extraordinary, that I must make youacquainted with it. You know I am really very thick and short, prodigiously talkative and wonderfully impudent. Now I am thin and tall, strangely silent, and very bashful. If these things continue, who issafe? Even you, Boswell, may feel a change. Your fair and transparentcomplexion may turn black and oily; your person little and squat; andwho knows but you may eternally rave about the King of Great Britain'sguards;[22] a species of madness, from which good Lord deliver us!

[Footnote 20: New-Tarbat, a wild seat in the western Highlands ofScotland, surrounded with mountains. ]

[Footnote 21:

 "Far smoking o'er the interminable plain. "

 --Thomson's "Seasons. "--Spring. --ED. ]

[Footnote 22: Boswell in a letter to his friend Temple, dated May 1st1761, had thus described himself. "A young fellow whose happiness wasalways centred in London, . .. Who had got his mind filled with the mostgay ideas--getting into the Guards, being about Court, enjoying thehappiness of the _beau monde_, and the company of men of genius, &c. "--ED. ]

I have often wondered, Boswell, that a man of your taste in music, cannot play upon the Jew's harp; there are some of us here that touch itvery melodiously, I can tell you. Corelli's solo of _Maggie Lauder_, andPergolesi's sonata of _The Carle he came o'er the Craft_, areexcellently adapted to that instrument; let me advise you to learn it. The first cost is but three halfpence, and they last a long time. I havecomposed the following ode upon it, which exceeds Pindar as much as theJew's harp does the organ. 

 ODE UPON A JEW'S HARP. 

 I. 

 SWEET instrument! which fix'd in yellow teeth, So clear so sprightly and so gay is found, Whether you breathe along the shore of Leith, Or Lowmond's lofty cliffs thy strains resound; Struck by a taper finger's gentle tip, Ah softly in our ears thy pleasing murmurs slip!

 II. 

 Where'er thy lively music's found, All are jumping, dancing round: Ev'n trusty William lifts a leg, And capers like sixteen with Peg; Both old and young confess thy pow'rful sway, They skip like madmen and they frisk away. 

 III. 

 Rous'd by the magic of the charming air, The yawning dogs forego their heavy slumbers; The ladies listen on the narrow stair, And Captain Andrew straight forgets his numbers. Cats and mice give o'er their battling, Pewter plates on shelves are rattling; But falling down the noise my lady hears, Whose scolding drowns the trump more tuneful than the spheres!

Having thus, Boswell, written you a most entertaining letter, with whichyou are highly pleased; to your great grief I give over in these or thelike words, your affectionate friend, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER VIII. 

Edinburgh, Dec. 2, 1761. 

Dear ERSKINE, --Notwithstanding of your affecting elegy on the death oftwo pigs, I am just now returned from eating a most excellent one withthe most magnificent Donaldson. I wish you would explain to me thereason of my being so very hard-hearted as to discover no manner ofreluctance at that innocent animal's being brought to table wellroasted. I will confess to you, my friend, that I fed upon it with nosmall alacrity--neither do I feel any pangs of remorse for having sodone. The reason perhaps lies so deep as to elude our keenestpenetration;--at the same time give me leave to offer my conjecture, which you may have by a little transmutation of a vulgar adage, in suchmanner as to obtain at one and the same time (so to speak) not only astrong reason for my alleged inhumanity, but also an apparent pun, anda seeming paradox; all which you have for the small and easy charge ofsaying, The belly has no bowels. 

I do assure you the imperial sovereign of Pope's head, CaledonianDodsley, Scottish Baskerville, and captain general of collective bards, entertained us most sumptuously; I question much if captain Erskinehimself ever fared better; although I was the only author in thecompany, which I own surprised me not a little. Donaldson is undoubtedlya gentleman perfectly skilled in the art of insinuation. His dinners arethe most eloquent addresses imaginable. For my own part, I am never asharer in one of his copious repasts, but I feel my heart warm to thelandlord, and spontaneously conceive this expressive soliloquy, --Upon myword I must give him another hundred lines. 

Now, my dear Captain, tell me how is it with you, after reading this?With what feeling are you most strongly possessed? But as this depends agood deal upon the time of the day at which you receive my epistle, Ishall make no farther inquiry. 

Thus, Sir, have I unbosomed the big exultation which possessed me uponoccasion of what some of the fathers would call _splendidum prandium_;Englished thus, a splendid dinner. 

Are not you all this time very much astonished, nay, somewhat piqued, that I have as yet made no mention of your last, notwithstanding of thewonderful enchantments which you relate, the sagacious advices which yougive, and the ode to a Jew's harp, which you add. Forgive me, goodCaptain. Blame Donaldson. Write to me whenever you have any thing thatyou wish to say, and believe me, Yours, JAMES BOSWELL. 

P. S. Are not you very proud of your Ode to Midnight? Lord K---- calls itthe best Poem in the English language. But it will not be long so. Forin imitation of it I have written an Ode to Gluttony, of which take twostanzas. 

 I. 

 HAIL Gluttony! O let me eat Immensely at thy awful board, On which to serve the stomach meet, What art and nature can afford. I'll furious cram, devoid of fear, Let but the roast and boil'd appear; Let me but see a smoking dish, I care not whether fowl or fish; Then rush ye floods of ale adown my throat, And in my belly make the victuals float!

 II. 

 And yet why trust a greasy cook? Or give to meat the time of play? While ev'ry trout gulps down a hook, And poor dumb beasts harsh butchers slay? Why seek the dull, sauce-smelling gloom, Of the beef-haunted dining room; Where D----r gives to every guest With lib'ral hand whate'er is best; While you in vain th' insurance must invoke To give security you shall not choke?

 * * * * *

LETTER IX. 

New-Tarbat, Dec. 3, 1761. 

Dear BOSWELL, EV'N now intent upon thy Ode, I plunge my knife into the beef, Which, when a cow--as is the mode-- Was _lifted_ by a Highland thief. Ah! spare him, spare him, circuit Lords! Ah hang him not in hempen cords; Ah save him in his morn of youth From the damp-breathing, dark[23] tolbooth, Lest when condemn'd and hung in clanking chains, His body moulder down white-bleached with winter rains!

[Footnote 23: Tolbooth Prison. ]

But let not me intermeddle with your province; to parody the ode tomidnight, could only be thought of and executed by the mirth-moving, humour-hunting, raillery-raising James Boswell. You must send me therest of your Gluttony by the return of the post, even though it shouldprove the night of the Beard-soaping Club. Did you ever suspect me ofbelieving your marriage? No, I always said from the beginning, there wasnothing in it; I can bring twenty witnesses to prove it, who shall benameless; indeed if you had been married, I don't know but the samegentlemen might have been prevailed upon to vouch for me that Ifrequently declared my firm persuasion of it; these kind of witnesseshave multiplied greatly of late years, to the eternal credit of many aperson's surprising sagacity; but if you want to see this subjectpursued and treated with accuracy, peruse Doctor Woodward's Treatise ofFossils, particularly his remarks upon the touchstone. 

I am glad to hear you are returned to town, and once more near that seatof learning and genius Mr. Alexander Donaldson's shop. You tell me youare promoted to be his corrector of the press; I wish you also had theoffice of correcting his children, which they very much want; the eldestson, when I was there, never failed to play at taw all the time, and myqueue used frequently to be pulled about; you know, upon account of itslength it is very liable to these sort of attacks; I am thinking to cutit off, for I never yet met with a child that could keep his hands fromit: and here I can't forbear telling you, that if ever you marry andhave children, our acquaintance ceases from that moment, unless youbreed them up after the manner of the great Scriblerus, and unless theybe suckled with soft verse, and weaned with criticism. 

Write me when the volume will be published, and what sort of figure youthink it will make, particularly how James Boswell and Andrew Erskinewill appear; I know you will mix your opinion with a good deal ofpartial praise, as you are one of those extraordinary authors that havea love for their own works, and also one of those still moreextraordinary ones that can flatter another. I find fault with one ortwo things in your letters; I could wish you wrote in a smaller hand, and that when you end a sentence in the beginning of a line, you wouldbegin the next sentence in the same line. 

Dear Boswell, go to Donaldson and tell him he is a most inhumanmiscreant, and deserves, as he is a Printer, to be pressed to death;then thunder in his ear that he has not sent Captain Erskine hisCritical Review. 

Lady B---- entreats that you would come here and spend the Christmasholidays; she has sent for two Highland bards to entertain you, and Ihave a wash-ball and a stick of pomatum much at your service: we areall, thank God, in general pretty clear of the Itch just now, and mostof us not near so lousy as we used to be, so I think you may venture. Ireceived your letter ten days after the date, though it only came fromEdinburgh; I had wrote you one some little time before, directed to theParliament-Close, have you got it? That you may never want Odes of mineto parody, I enclose you one to Fear, [24] nothing like it you willobserve since the time of Pindar. 

[Footnote 24: This Ode is not worth reprinting. --ED. ]

And now, my dear dear Boswell, I conclude, having, as I hope for mercy, not one word more to say, which I believe is often the case of many anenormous genius. 

Farewell. Yours, &c. , ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER X. 

Edinburgh, Dec. 8, 1761. 

Dear ERSKINE, --It is a very strange thing, that I James Boswell, Esq. , "who am happily possessed of a facility of manners, "--(to use the verywords of Mr. Professor Smith, [25] which upon honour were addressed tome. I can produce the Letter in which they are to be found) I say it isa very strange thing that I should ever be at a loss how to expressmyself; and yet at this moment of my existence, that is really the case. May Lady B---- say unto me, "Boswell, I detest thee, " if I am not indownright earnest. 

[Footnote 25: Adam Smith. Boswell had attended his classes on MoralPhilosophy, when a student in the University of Glasgow. --ED. ]

Mankind are such a perverse race of beings, that they never fail to layhold of every circumstance tending to their own praise, while they letslip every circumstance tending to their censure. To illustrate this bya recent example, you see I accurately remember Mr. Smith's beautiful, Ishall even grant you just compliment, but have quite forgot his severecriticism on a sentence so clumsily formed, as to require an _I say_ tokeep it together; which I myself candidly think much resembles a pair ofill-mended breeches. 

Having a mind, Erskine, to open a sluice of happiness upon you, I mustinform you that I have lately got you an immensity of applause from menof the greatest taste. You know I read rather better than any man inBritain; so that your works had a very uncommon advantage. I was pleasedat the praise which you received. I was vain of having such acorrespondent. I thought I did not envy you a bit, and yet, I don'tknow, I felt somehow, as if I could like to thresh you pretty heartily:however, I have one comfort, in thinking that all this praise would nothave availed you a single curl of Sir Cloudesley Shovel's periwig, [26]had not I generously reported it to you: so that in reality you areobliged to me for it. 

[Footnote 26: "Sir Cloudesley Shovel's monument has very often given megreat offence: instead of the brave, rough English Admiral, which wasthe distinguishing character of that plain, gallant man, he isrepresented on his tomb by the figure of a beau, dressed in a longperiwig, and reposing himself upon velvet cushions under a canopy ofstate. "--The "Spectator, " No. 26. --ED. ]

The second volume of the Poems will not be published till January. Captain Erskine will make a very good figure. Boswell a decent one. 

Lady B---- intreats me to come and pass the Christmas holidays with her:guess, O guess! what transport I felt at reading that. I did not knowhow to contain my elevation of spirits. I thought myself one of thegreatest geniuses in Europe. I thought I could write all sorts of books, and work at all handicraft trades. I imagined that I had fourscoremillions of money out at interest, and that I should actually be chosenPope at the next election. I obtest you, my friend, in the warmestspirit of love to return to her Ladyship my most sincere thanks, andtell her that when the planets permit us to meet, she herself shalljudge how richly I can express my gratitude. 

Although I am a good deal of a Don Quixote, yet I feel myself averse toso long a journey. Believe me, I am as sweetly indolent as any genius inall his Majesty's dominions, so that for my own incitement I mustpropose the following scheme. You Captain Andrew shall, upon Monday the28th day of this present month, set out from New-Tarbat in Mr. M----'schaise, and meet me at Glasgow, that evening. Next day shall we both infriendly guise get into the said chaise, and drive with velocity to yourpresent habitation, where I shall remain till the Monday sennight; onwhich day I shall be in like manner accompanied back to Glasgow, fromthence to make my way as well as I can, to the Scottish metropolis. Ihave told the story of my scheme rather awkwardly; but it will have itsadvantages; I shall have a couple of days more of your classicalcompany, and somewhat less to pay, which to a Poet is no slenderconsideration. 

I shall chaise it the whole way. Thanks to the man who first inventedthat comfortable method of journeying. Had it not been for that, I daresay both you and I would have circumscribed our travels within a veryfew miles. For my own part, I think to dress myself in a great-coat andboots, and get astride a horse's back, and be jolted through the mire, perhaps in wind and rain, is a punishment too severe for all theoffences which I can charge myself with. Indeed I have a mortalantipathy at riding, and that was the true reason for my refusing aregiment of dragoons which the King of Prussia offered me at thebeginning of this war. I know indeed the Marischal Duke de Belleisle inhis Political Testament, [27] has endeavoured to persuade the world thatit was owing to my having a private amour with a Lady of distinction inthe Austrian court, but that minister was too deeply immersed instate-intrigues, to know much about those of a more tender nature. Thetumultuous hurry of business and ambition, left no room in his mind forthe delicious delicacy of sentiment and passion, so very essential to aman of gallantry. 

[Footnote 27: "Avez-vous lu le _Testament politique du Maréchal deBelle-Isle_? C'est un ex-capucin de Rouen, nommé jadis Maubert, fripon, espion, escroc, menteur et ivrogne, ayant tous les talens de moinerie, qui a composé cet impertinent ouvrage. "--Voltaire, Nov. 27, 1761. --ED. ]

I think, Erskine, in this scheme of mine, I am playing a very sure game, for you must either indulge me in every article which I have mentioned, or entertain me with a plentiful dish of well drest apologies. I beg itof you, however, don't put yourself to any inconvenience; indeed I mighthave saved myself the trouble of making this request, for you are thatkind of man that I believe you would not put yourself to aninconvenience to be made a Lieutenant-General. Pray shall we not see youhere this winter at all? You ought to come and eat the fruit of yourlabours. I remain your most affectionate friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

I shall rouse Donaldson as you desire. I shall rouse him like a peal ofthunder. 

I wonder what you will all think of this proposal of mine for deliveringmyself in Folio. Ten days make a period, as I use to say. They bear someproportion to the whole of life. Write instantly. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XI. [28]

[Footnote 28: This Letter was occasioned by seeing an Ode to Tragedy, written by a Gentleman of Scotland, and dedicated to James Boswell, Esq. , advertised in the Edinburgh Newspapers. It afterwards appearedthat the Ode was written by Mr. Boswell himself. ]

New-Tarbat, Dec. 13, 1761. 

Dear BOSWELL, --An Ode to Tragedy by a gentleman of Scotland, anddedicated to you! had there been only one spark of curiosity in my wholecomposition, this would have raised it to a flame equal to the generalconflagration. May G----d d----n me, as Lord Peter says, [29] if the edge ofmy appetite to know what it can be about, is not as keen as the bestrazor ever used by a member of the Soaping-Club. Go to Donaldson, demandfrom him two of my franks, and send it me even before the first post:write me, O write me! what sort of man this author is, where he wasborn, how he was brought up, and with what sort of diet he has beenprincipally fed; tell me his genealogy, like Mr. M----; how many mileshe has travelled in post-chaises, like Colonel R----; tell me what heeats, like a cook; what he drinks, like a wine-merchant; what shoes hewears, like a shoe-maker; in what manner his mother was delivered ofhim, like a man-midwife; and how his room is furnished, like anupholsterer; but if you happen to find it difficult to utter all this interms befitting Mr. M----, Colonel R----, a cook, a wine-merchant, ashoemaker, a man-midwife, and an upholsterer, Oh! tell it me all in yourown manner, and in your own incomparable style. 

[Footnote 29: In the "Tale of a Tub. "--ED. ]

Your scheme, Boswell, has met with--but the thoughts of this Ode-writinggentleman of Scotland again come across me, --I must now ask, like theSpectator, [30] is he fat or lean, tall or short, does he use spectacles?what is the length of his walking-stick? has he a landed estate? has hea good coal-work?--Lord! Lord! what a melancholy thing it is to livetwenty miles from a post-town! why am I not in Edinburgh? why am I notchained to Donaldson's shop?

[Footnote 30: "I have observed that a reader seldom peruses a book withpleasure, till he knows whether the writer of it be a black or a fairman, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or a bachelor, withother particulars of the like nature that conduce very much to the rightunderstanding of an author. "--"The Spectator, " No. 1. --ED. ]

I received both your letters yesterday, for we send to the Post-housebut once a week: I need not tell you how I liked them; were I toacquaint you with that, you would consecrate the pen with which theywere written, and deify the inkhorn: I think the outside of one of themwas adorned with the greatest quantity of good sealing-wax I ever saw, and my brother A---- and Lady A----, both of whom have a notablecomprehension of these sort of things, agree with me in this my opinion. 

Your Ode to Gluttony[31] is altogether excellent; the descriptions areso lively, that mistaking the paper on which they were written, for apiece of bread and butter spread with marmalade, I fairly swallowed thewhole composition, and I find my stomach increased three-fold since thattime; I declare it to be the most admirable whet in the world, superiorto a solan goose, or white wine and bitters; it ought to be hung up inevery cook's shop in the three kingdoms, engraved on pillars in allmarket places, and pasted in all rooms in all taverns. 

[Footnote 31: He refers to the continuation of this Ode, which I haveomitted in the present Edition. --ED. ]

You seem to doubt in your first letter, if ever Captain Erskine wasbetter entertained by the great Donaldson, than you was lately; banishthat opinion, tell it not in Gath; nor publish it in Askalon; repeat itnot in John's Coffee-house, neither whisper it in the Abbey ofHolyrood-House; no, I shall never forget the fowls and oyster saucewhich bedecked the board: fat were the fowls, and the oysters of thetrue pandour or croat kind; then the apple pie with raisins, and themutton with cauliflower, can never be erased from my remembrance; I mayforget my native country, my dear brothers and sisters, my poetry, myart of making love, and even you, O Boswell! but these things I cannever forget; the impression is too deep, too well imprinted ever to beeffaced; I may turn Turk or Hottentot, I may be hanged for stealing abag to adorn my hair, I may ravish all sorts of virgins, young and old, I may court the fattest Wapping landlady, but these things I can neverforget; I may be sick and in prison, I may be deaf, dumb, and may losemy memory, but these things I can never forget. 

And now, Boswell, I am to acquaint you, that your proposal is receivedwith the utmost joy and festivity, and the scheme, if I live tillto-morrow fortnight, will be put in execution. The New-Tarbat chaisewill arrive at Glasgow on Monday evening the 28th of December, drove byWilliam. Captain Andrew's slim personage will slip out, he will enquirefor James Boswell, Esq. ; he will be shewn into the room where he issitting before a large fire, the evening being cold, raptures and poetrywill ensue, and every man will soap his own beard; every other articleof the proposals will be executed as faithfully as this; but to speakvery seriously, you must be true to your appointment, and come with theutmost regularity upon the Monday; think of my emotions at Græme's, ifyou should not come; view my melancholy posture; hark! I rave like LadyWishfort, [32] no Boswell yet, Boswell's a lost thing. I must receive aletter from you before I set out, telling me whether you keep true toyour resolution, and pray send me the Ode to Tragedy: I beg you'll bringme out in your pocket my Critical Review, which you may desire Donaldsonto give you; but above all, employ Donaldson to get me a copy ofFingal, [33] which tell him I'll pay him for; I long to see it. 

[Footnote 32: In "The Way of the World, " by Congreve. --ED. ]

[Footnote 33: The first volume of Macpherson's "Fingal" was publishedthis winter. --ED. ]

There are some things lately published in London, which I would be gladto have, particularly a Spousal Hymn on the marriage of the King andQueen, and an Elegy on viewing a ruined Pile of Buildings; see what youcan do for me; I know you will not take it ill to be busied a little forthat greatest of all Poets Captain Andrew. 

The sluice of happiness you have let in upon me, has quite overflowedthe shallows of my understanding; at this moment I am determined towrite more and print more than any man in the kingdom, except the greatDr. Hill, who writes a Folio every month, a Quarto every fortnight, anOctavo every week, and a Duodecimo every day. [34] Hogarth hashumourously represented a brawny porter almost sinking to the groundunder a huge load of his works. I am too lazy just now to copy out anOde to Indolence, which I have lately written; besides, it's fitting Ireserve something for you to peruse when we meet, for upon theseoccasions an exchange of Poems ought to be as regular as an exchange ofprisoners between two nations at war. Believe me, dear Boswell, to beyours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

[Footnote 34: "Would you believe, what I know is fact, that Dr. Hillearned fifteen guineas a week by working for wholesale dealers? He wasat once employed on six voluminous works of Botany, Husbandry, &c. , published weekly. "--Horace Walpole, date of Jan. 3, 1761. --ED. ]

P. S. --Pray write me before I set out for Glasgow. --The Ode to Tragedy, by a gentleman of Scotland, good now! wonderful!

 * * * * *

LETTER XII. 

Edinburgh, Saturday, Dec. 14, 1761. 

Dear ERSKINE, --If my scheme takes, you must alter it. Thursday the 24thmust be the day of our meeting, as I am obliged to return hither onSaturday the 2nd of January. This is really a curious way of employingyou; however, you will gain something by it; you will acquire aparticular exactness in knowing the days of the month, a science toomuch neglected in these degenerate days, but a science which wascultivated with a glorious ardour in Greece and Rome, and was no doubtthe cause of their flourishing so much in every respect. 

I am yours sincerely, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XIII. 

Edinburgh, Dec. 17, 1761. 

Dear ERSKINE, --Had you but hinted a method of conveyance sooner than bythe first post, sooner should the Ode to Tragedy have saluted yourlonging eyes. 

At length it comes! it comes! Hark! with what lofty music do the spheresproclaim its triumphal entry into the majestic edifice at Tarbat! Beholdthe family gathered around it in a sort of quadrangular figure! Heavens!what a picture of curiosity! what a group of eager expectants! They showtheir teeth, they rub their hands, they kick the floor! But who is thisthe fire of whose look flames infinitely beyond the rest? It is CaptainAndrew! It is! it is! ye Gods! he seizes! he opens! he reads! Let usleave him. I can no more. It would stretch the strings too far toproceed. You must know I purposely neglected to send the Ode myself, andlikewise prevented Donaldson from sending it immediately when it waspublished, in order to give full play to your impatience. I consideredwhat amazing effects it must produce upon Captain Erskine, to find inone advertisement, An Ode to Tragedy--A Gentleman of Scotland--AlexanderDonaldson--and James Boswell, Esq. How far my conjecture was just, yourlast letter does most amply testify. 

The author of the Ode to Tragedy, is a most excellent man: he is of anancient family in the west of Scotland, upon which he values himself nota little. At his nativity there appeared omens of his future greatness. His parts are bright, and his education has been good. He has travelledin post-chaises, miles without number. He is fond of seeing much of theworld. He eats of every good dish, especially apple-pie. He drinks oldhock. He has a very fine temper. He is somewhat of an humorist, and alittle tinctured with pride. He has a good manly countenance, and heowns himself to be amorous. He has infinite vivacity, yet is observed attimes to have a melancholy cast. He is rather fat than lean, rathershort than tall, rather young than old. His shoes are neatly made, andhe never wears spectacles. The length of his walking-stick is not as yetascertained; but we hope soon to favour the republic of letters with asolution of this difficulty, as several able mathematicians are employedin its investigation, and for that purpose have posted themselves atdifferent given points in the Cannongate, so that when the gentlemansaunters down to the Abbey of Holyrood-house, in order to think onancient days, on King James the Fifth, and on Queen Mary, they maycompute its altitude above the street, according to the rules ofgeometry. 

I hope you have received a line from me fixing Thursday the 24th, as theday of our meeting. I exult in the prospect of felicity that is beforeus. Fingal and your Critical Review shall accompany me. I will notanticipate your pleasure in reading the Highland bard; only take my wordfor it, he will make you feel that you have a soul. I shall rememberyour other commissions. Continue to trust me till you find me negligent. 

I beg it of you, for once, be a Frenchman, and in the character ofBoswell, kneel, supplicate, worship Lady B----. I remain, youraffectionate Friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XIV. 

New-Tarbat, Dec. 16, 1761. 

Dear BOSWELL, --Swift as pen can scratch, or ink can flow, as floods canrush, or winds can blow, which you'll observe is a very pretty rhyme, Isit down on a chair which has really a very bad bottom, being made ofwood, and answer your epistle which I received this moment; it is datedon Saturday the 14th, which was really the 12th, according to thecomputation of the best chronologists: this is a blunder which Sir IsaacNewton would never have excused; but I a man no less great, forgive itfrom my soul; and I here declare, that I will never upbraid you with itin any company or conversation, even though that conversation shouldturn upon the quickest and most pleasant method of swallowing oysters, when you know I might very naturally introduce it. 

I confess it is singularly silly in me to turn the page in this manner, and that I should have followed your example, or rather ensample, assome great judges of style usually write it. I see by the newspapers, that Fingal is to be published at Edinburgh in a few days, pray bring itwith you. 

I will undoubtedly meet you at Glasgow on the 24th day of the month, being exactly that day which precedes Christmas, as was ingeniouslyobserved by Mr. Sheridan in his fourth Lecture;[35] and I hear he isgoing to publish a whole volume of discoveries all as notable as this, which I imagine will exceed his lectures greatly. 

[Footnote 35: "Course of Lectures on Elocution, " by Thomas Sheridan, M. A. London, 1762. --ED. ]

Pray now be faithful to this appointment, and so I commit this letter tothe guidance of Providence, hoping that it will not miscarry, or fail ofbeing duly delivered. 

Believe me yours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XV. 

New-Tarbat, Jan. 10, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --The storms of night descended, the winds rolled along theclouds with all their ghosts, around the rock the dark waves burst, andshewed their flaming bosoms, loud rushed the blast through the leaflessoaks, and the voice of the spirit of the mountains was heard in ourhalls; it was Saturday, when lo! at once the postman came, mighty washis striding in the kitchen, and strong was his voice for ale. Inshort, I have as yet received no letter from you, and great is my wonderand astonishment, even Donaldson has not sent me my Critical Review;would to God he had one rap from Fingal's sword of Luno. 

I feel myself at this present moment capable of writing a letter whichwould delight you, but I am determined not to do it, and this is thesevere punishment of your neglect, I withhold the treasures of my witand humour from you, a perfect Golconda mine of Diamonds. 

I have been enjoying since you left me, the most exquisiteentertainment, in the perusal of the noble works of Ossian, the greatestpoet, in my opinion, that ever composed, and who exceeds Homer, Virgil, and Milton. He transports us by the grandeur of his sublime, or by somesudden start of tenderness he melts us into distress: Who can read, without the warmest emotions, the pathetic complaints of the venerableold bard, when he laments his blindness, and the death of his friends?But how are we animated when the memory of former years comes rushing onhis mind, and the light of the song rises in his soul. It is quiteimpossible to express my admiration of his Poems; at particular passagesI felt my whole frame trembling with ecstasy; but if I was to describeall my thoughts, you would think me absolutely mad. The beautifulwildness of his fancy is inexpressibly agreeable to the imagination; forinstance, the mournful sound from the untouched harp when a hero isgoing to fall, or the awful appearances of his ghosts and spirits. 

Notwithstanding all these beauties, we shall still continue pedants, and Homer and Virgil will be read and quoted, when Ossian shall betotally forgot; this, without the gift of prophecy, I can foresee; muchcould I enlarge upon this subject, but this must not be a long letter. Believe me

Yours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XVI. 

Edinburgh, Jan. 11, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --Instead of endeavouring to excuse myself for neglectingso long to write, I shall present you with some original conjectures ofmy own, upon the way and manner in which you have been affected uponthis present occasion. And here I must premise, that in so doing I shallnot follow the formal and orderly method of Bishop Latimer, in hissermons before King Edward the Sixth; but, on the contrary, shall adoptthe easy, desultory style of one whom at present I shall not venture toname, but leave that to some future ingenious commentator on theepistolary correspondence of the Hon. Andrew Erskine and James Boswell, Esq. 

Either you have been sunk into a frigid state of listless indifference, and gone whistling up and down the room upon a fife, and murmuring atintervals, while you took breath; let him do as he likes, let him pleasehimself; yes, yes, let him soap his own beard. Or you have felt themost delicate pangs of afflicted sensibility, and uttered tender talesof woe in softly plaintive numbers. 

 The savage bard returns no humorous line, No Tragic Ode now sooths my soul to rest; In vain I fly to Lady B----'s wine, Nor can a hearty supper make me blest. 

Or you have burned, raged, and fried like the thrice-amorous swain inthe renowned English translation of Voi Amante, and perhaps thunderedforth all the Anathemas which Tristram Shandy has borrowed from thechurch of Rome, and transferred to poor Obadiah. 

By this time, the storm is blown over. This merry letter has made yougrin, and show every expression of laughter. You are now in very goodhumour, and are in all human probability saying to yourself, My goodfriend Boswell, is a most excellent correspondent. It is true he isindolent, and _dissipated_, as the celebrated Parson Brown, [36] ofCarlisle says, and he frequently is a little negligent: but when he doeswrite, ye Gods! how he does write! in short, to sing him his owninimitable song, "There is no better fellow alive. "

I remain

Yours sincerely, JAMES BOSWELL. 

[Footnote 36: Dr. John Brown, the author of "An Estimate of the Mannersand Principles of the Times. "--ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER XVII. 

New-Tarbat, Jan. 20, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --It is a kind of maxim, or rule in life, never to begin athing without having an eye towards the conclusion; certainly this rulewas never better observed than in your last letter, in which indeed I amapt to think you kept the conclusion rather too much in view, or perhapsyou forgot the beginning altogether, which is not unfrequently the casewith you; but you do these things with so little compunction, that Ishall very soon cease to forgive you, and answer you in the same manner. It is to be feared, that the dissolution of our correspondence willimmediately follow, or dwindle into half a page of your text hand, whichI always looked upon as a detestable invention: if all this that I dreadhappens, we shall then cease to be reckoned men of LETTERS. 

I find it recorded in the history of the eastern Roman Empire, that itwas the custom whenever the inhabitants of Constantinople mutinied forwant of bread, to whip all the bakers through the city, which alwaysappeased the populace; in like manner, Boswell, I having dreamt a fewnights ago, that I had whipt you severely, find my wrath and resentmentvery much mollified; not so much indeed I confess, as if I had reallyhad the pleasure of actually correcting you, but however I am prettywell satisfied. You was quite mistaken as to the manner I bore yoursilence; I only thought it was a little droll. 

Donaldson tells me, that he wants thirty or forty pages to complete hisvolume; pray don't let him insert any nonsense to fill it up, but tryJohn Home[37] and John R----, who I hear is a very good poet; you mayalso hint the thing to Mr. N----, and to my brother, Lord K----, who hassome excellent poems by him. 

[Footnote 37: The author of "Douglas. "--ED. ]

Since I saw you, I received a letter from Mr. D----; it is filled withencomiums upon you: he says there is a great deal of humility in yourvanity, a great deal of tallness in your shortness, and a great deal ofwhiteness in your black complexion. He says there is a great deal ofpoetry in your prose, and a great deal of prose in your poetry. He says, that as to your late publication, there is a great deal of Ode in yourdedication, and a great deal of dedication in your Ode; it would amazeyou to see how D---- keeps up this see-saw, which you'll remark hasprodigious wit in it. He says there is a great deal of coat in yourwaistcoat, and a great deal of waistcoat in your coat; that there is agreat deal of liveliness in your stupidity, and a great deal ofstupidity in your liveliness; but to write you all he says, wouldrequire rather more fire in my grate, than there is at present; and myfingers would undoubtedly be numbed, for there is a great deal of snowin this frost, and a great deal of frost in this snow: in short, uponthis occasion he writes like a Christian and a Poet, and a Physician andan Orator, and a Jew. 

Pray, Boswell, tell me particularly in your first letter, how Fingal hasbeen received; that book will serve me as a criterion, to discover thetaste of the present age. Boswell, imitate me in your writing; observehow closely the lines are joined, how near the words are written to oneanother, and how small the letters are formed; I am praiseworthy in thisparticular. Adieu. Yours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XVIII. 

Edinburgh, Jan. 22, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --I would not for all the books in Donaldson's shop thatour correspondence should cease. Rather, much rather would I trot ahorse in the hottest day in summer, between Fort George and Aberdeen;rather, much rather would I hold the office of him who every returningnoon plays upon the music-bells of the good town of Edinburgh;[38] andrather, much rather would I be condemned to pass the next seven years ofmy life, as a spiritless student at the college of Glasgow. 

[Footnote 38: "All the people of business at Edinburgh, and even thegenteel company may be seen standing in crowds every day, from one totwo in the afternoon, in the open street. .. . The company are entertainedwith a variety of tunes, played upon a set of bells, fixed in a steeplehard by. As these bells are well toned, and the musician, who has asalary from the city for playing upon them with keys, is no badperformer, the entertainment is really agreeable, and very striking tothe ears of a stranger. "--"Humphry Clinker, " vol. Ii. , p. 223. --ED. ]

Let our wit, my friend, continue to shine in a succession of brilliantsparkles. Let there be no more distance between each flash of vivacity, but what is necessary for giving time to observe its splendid radiance. I hope I shall never again approach so near the clod of clay. I hope thefire of my genius shall never again be so long in kindling, or so muchcovered up with the dross of stupidity. 

I have desired Donaldson to cause his correspondent at London, to senda copy of the first volume of his collection to each of the Reviews, that is to say, to Hamilton[39] and Griffiths, with whose names theslate-blue covers of these awful oracles of criticism are inscribed. 

[Footnote 39: Hamilton was the proprietor of "The Critical Review. " Itsfirst editor was Smollett. Griffiths was the proprietor of "The MonthlyReview. " Goldsmith worked for him for some time. Griffiths was foolenough to venture, with the aid of his wife, to correct Goldsmith'scompositions. --See Forster's "Life of Goldsmith. "--ED. ]

Donaldson has yet about thirty-six pages of the second Volume to print. I have given him two hundred lines more. He is a loadstone of prodigiouspower, and attracts all my poetic needles. The Volume will be out nextweek; the different pieces of which it is composed are, to be sure, notall of equal merit. But is not that the case in every miscellaneouscollection, even in that excellent one published by Mr. Dodsley? Thetruth is, that a volume printed in a small type exhausts an infinitequantity of _copy_ (to talk technically) so that we must not beover-nice in our choice, nor think every man in our ranks below size, who does not come up to the elevated standard of Captain Andrew. 

D----'s encomiums have rendered my humility still prouder; they areindeed superb, and worthy of an opposer of the German war. I supposethey have not lost a bit of beef by their long journey, and I shouldimagine that the Highland air has agreed well with them, and that theyhave agreed well with the Highland air. They occasioned much laughter inmy heart, and much heart in my laughter. 

They have at last given over marrying me; so that I am going about likea horse wanting a halter, ready to be bridled and saddled by the firstperson who is so very fortunate as to lay hold of me. A simile not to befound in any author ancient or modern. 

We had a splendid ball at the Abbey of Holyrood-house, on the Queen'sbirthday, given by Colonel Graeme. I exhibited my existence in a minuet, and as I was dressed in a full chocolate suit, and wore my most solemncountenance, I looked as you used to tell me, like the fifth act of adeep Tragedy. Lord K---- danced with Miss C----, by the fire of whoseeyes, his melodious lordship's heart is at present in a state ofcombustion. Such is the declaration which he makes in loud whispers manya time and oft. 

Our friend H---- S---- is in town this winter. He is a most surprisingold fellow. I am told he is some years past sixty; and yet he has allthe vivacity and frolic, and whim of the sprightliest youth. Hecontinues to rank all mankind under the general denomination of Gilbert. He patrols the streets at midnight as much as ever, and beats with asmuch vigour the town-guard drum; nor is his affection for the company ofblind fiddlers, in the least abated. 

Fingal has been very warmly received at London. A second edition of itis just now come out. The public taste you will allow is good atpresent: long may it last. Long may the voice of the venerable bard beheard with unaffected pleasure. 

I see your regiment is ordered for England. I hope you will be allowedto recruit, or have leave of absence, as it would be very severe uponyou to be moved from your present situation. 

If you will number the lines in our pages, you will find I havetwenty-three, whereas you have only eighteen. 

I enclose you the sorrowful lamentation of a stabler called Hutchison, who, on Wednesday last was whipt through this town, for forcing away ayoung man as a recruit, and beating him unmercifully. The saidlamentation you will find is in verse; and although sold for a singlepenny, is a work of remarkable merit. The exordium is a passionateaddress to Captains all; amongst whom, who can more properly be reckonedthan Captain Andrew?

I remain your sincere friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XIX. 

Morpeth, Feb. 7th, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --And lo I am at Morpeth, after meeting with every accidentthat could possibly happen to a man in a post-chaise, overturns, breaking of springs, dropping of wheels, and sticking in roads, thoughwith four horses. We imagine we are to remain in this town some time. Upon looking over my poems, in the second volume, I find several errors;I'm afraid you have not corrected the press so violently as you boasted. 

Perhaps, Boswell, this will be the worst and the shortest letter I everwrote to you; I'm writing in an inn, and half-a-dozen people in theroom; but when I'm settled in lodgings of my own, expect epistles in theusual style. I think you two or three times have treated me as I treatyou now, so

I remain your most humble servant, And affectionate friend, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

P. S. --Never was there such a tame subjected performance as this. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XX. 

Morpeth, Feb. 8, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --I beg you will get a copy of the second volume of thePoems, and send me it by the man who brings you this; let it be a neatone, well-bound: pray tell me what people say of the book. Yourcurrant-jelly is good, has a delicious flavour, and tastes much of thefruit, as my aunts say. I did not make out all the names in yourRace-Ballad cleverly. 

I am still in the way I was, when I wrote you last, in a public-house, and pestered with noise: I have not above six ideas at present, and noneof them fit for a letter. Dear Boswell, farewell! pray for my recoveryfrom this lethargy of spirits and sense which has seized me. 

Yours, &c. 

ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXI. 

Edinburgh, Feb. 16, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --To see your brother ---- at Morpeth, will, I dare say, surprise you as much as it did me, to find him here. In short, nothingwill serve him but a sight of the British capital, although he isalready much better acquainted with it than either you or I. 

What has at present instigated him I own I am puzzled to discover: but Isolemnly and merrily declare, that I never yet saw anybody soexcessively enamoured of London. The effects of this violent passion aredeeply impressed upon every feature in his countenance, his nose notexcepted, which is absolutely most surprising. His body is tossed andshaken like one afflicted with the hot fit of an ague, or the severestparoxysms of convulsion. Then as to his mind, it is altogetherdistempered. He is perpetually declaiming on the magnificence, theliberty, and the pleasure, which reigns in the imperial Britishmetropolis. He swears, that in that glorious place alone we can enjoylife. He says, there is no breathing beyond St. James's; and he affirms, that the air of that delicious spot is celestial. He says, there is nowit except at the Bedford; no military genius but at George's; no winebut at the Star and Garter; no turbot except at the Tilt-Yard. Heasserts, that there are no clothes made beyond the liberties ofWestminster; and he firmly holds Cheapside to be the sole mart ofstockings. It would fill up two-thirds of a quarto volume to enumeratethe various extravagant exclamations into which he breaks out. Hedeclares that for his own part, he will never go to church except to St. Paul's, nor to a lady's private lodgings, except in the neighbourhood ofSoho-square. 

I beg it of you, my friend, be very attentive to him; observe hisappearance and behaviour with the greatest accuracy, so that between uswe may be able to have a pretty just notion of this wonderful affair, and may faithfully draw up his case to be read before the Royal Society, and transmitted to posterity in these curious annals the PhilosophicalTransactions. 

I have sent you the second volume, which Donaldson begs leave to presentyou with, in consideration of your being one of those who bear the bruntof the day. He has also done me the same honour. No plain shop copy; no, no, elegantly bound and gilt. 

Adieu, yours sincerely, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXII. 

Morpeth, March 2, 1762. 

Oh, BOSWELL! if you found yourself in the middle of the Firth of Forth, and the sea fast up-springing through every leak, after the skipper hadremonstrated, in the most warm manner, against proceeding to cross thewater; or if, like me, you found yourself in the midst of a sentence, without knowing how to end it, you could not feel more pain than I do atthis instant: in short, I have had a very excellent letter of yours inmy left waistcoat-pocket this fortnight; is that letter answered? yousay: Oh! let the reply to this question be buried in the bottom of theRed Sea, where I hope no future army will ever disturb it; or let it beinserted in the third volume of Donaldson's Collection, where it willnever be found, as the book will never be opened. What would I not do togain your pardon? I would even swear that black was white; that's tosay, I would praise the fairness of your complexion. 

By that smile which irradiates your countenance, like a gleam of themoon through the black clouds of the south; by the melting of thatpomatum which gives your hair a gloss, like the first beaming of a newsuit of regimentals on an assembly night, when twenty fiddlers sweat; bythe grandeur of your pinchbeck buckles; by the solemnity of your smallnose; by the blue expended in washing your shirts; by the rotundity ofyour Bath great-coat; by the well-polished key of your portmanteau; bythe tag of your shoe; by the tongue of your buckle; by your tailor'sbill; by the last kiss of Miss C----; by the first guinea you ever hadin your possession; and chiefly by all the nonsense you have just read, let the kneeling Captain find favour in your eyes, and then, my Ode toGoodnature shall be inscribed to you, while your Ode to Ingratitude(which, I suppose, is finished) shall be burnt. 

I was, as you imagine, very much surprised to see A---- here; I notedhim, according to your direction, with a critical eye; like a gentlemanin a line which you may remember I made on the Castle-hill, he seemed tohave taken the Tower of London for his bride; every feature and everylimb was changed wonderfully; his nose resembled Westminster-Bridge; hischeeks were like Bloomsbury-Square; his high forehead likeConstitution-Hill; his chin like China-Row; his tongue and his teethlooked like Almack's in Pall-Mall; his lips like the Shakespeare's Head;his fists like Hockley-in-the-Hole; his ears like the Opera-House; hiseyes like a harlequin entertainment; his stomach was like Craven-Street;his chest like the trunk-maker's in the corner of St. Paul's-Church-yard;the calf of his leg like Leadenhall-market; his pulse like theGreen-market in Covent-Garden; his neck like Tyburn; and his gait likeNewgate; his navel like Fleet-street; and his lungs and his bladder werelike Blowbladder-street: everything about him seemed metamorphosed; hehad moulded his hat into the form of the Mansion-House; some guineaswhich he had, looked like the 'Change; but it would be tedious to relateevery particular; however, I must not let his conversation be forgot, though it was much of a piece with that you so humorously relate: heswore to me he never saw a rag fit for a gentleman to wear, but inRag-fair; he said there was no scolding but at Billingsgate; and heavowed there were no bad poets but in Grub-street; I could not standthat, I bid him call to remembrance an acquaintance of his who lived inthe Parliament-Close, and also a relation of his who formerly resided inCampbell's Land; he smiled, and confessed these were really very badpoets, but that he was not convinced for all that; upon this, to putthe matter out of all dispute, I offered to lend him the first andsecond volumes of Donaldson's Collection. At that very moment thehostler informed him the chaise was ready, and he still remains ignorantwhere the worst poets in the world are. Tell me how our second volume isreceived; I was much pleased with N----'s lines; how did he get theminserted? I intend writing a criticism upon the volume, and upon yourwritings in particular, so tremble. 

Dear Boswell, farewell, Yours most affectionately, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

P. S. --I hope you'll write to me soon. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXIII. 

Edinburgh, March 9, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --Can a man walk up the Cowgate after a heavy rain withoutdirtying his shoes? I might have said the soles of his shoes:--and, indeed, to put the matter beyond dispute, I would yet have you tounderstand me so; for although nothing is so common as to use a part forthe whole; yet if you should be out of humour with a bad dinner, a badlodging, an ill-dressed shirt, or an ill-printed book, you might bedisposed to cavil, and object, that in critical precision of language, (supposing a man to walk slow) he could not be said to have dirtied hisshoes, no more than a boarding-school girl, who has cut her finger inparing an apple, could be said to have mangled her carcase. 

But to proceed; can a man make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land from theIsland of Great Britain, without the aid of navigation? Can a man walkin the Mall at noon, carrying his breeches upon an enormous long pole, without being laughed at? Can a man of acknowledged ignorance andstupidity, write a tragedy superior to Hamlet? or a genteel comedysuperior to the Careless Husband?[40] I need not wait for an answer. Noword but no, will do: it is self-evident. No more, my friend, can he whois lost in dissipation, write a letter. I am at present socircumstanced; accept this short line in answer to your last, and writevery soon to

Your affectionate Friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

[Footnote 40: By Colley Cibber. "Who upon earth has written such perfectcomedies (as Molière)? for the 'Careless Husband' is but one. "--HoraceWalpole, Aug. 29, 1785. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER XXIV. 

New-Tarbat, April 15, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --The sun which rose on Wednesday last, with his firstbeams beheld you set out for Auchinleck, but he did not see me arrive inEdinburgh; however, he was good-natured enough to lend a little light tothe moon, by the help of which, about twelve at night I landed at PeterRamsay's: the thoughts of seeing you next day kept up my spirits, during a stage of seventeen miles. William he snored; I called upon you, after being refreshed with soft slumbers, in which my guardian geniusdid not inform me of your absence: but oh! when the maid told me you wasgone, what were my emotions! she beholding me affected in a most supremedegree, tried to administer comfort to me, and plainly told me, that youwould be very sorry you had missed me, this delivered in an elegantmanner, soothed me prodigiously. 

I began writing this at Graham's in Glasgow, but was interrupted by ajowl of Salmon; every thing there reminded me of you. I was in the sameroom you and I were in, you seemed placed before me, your face beamed ablack ray upon me. 

I am now at New-Tarbat, once more returned to the scenes of calmretirement, and placid meditation, as Mr. Samuel Johnson says in theIdler. [41] We all wish to have you here, and we all agree in thinkingthat there is nothing to hinder you to come. 

[Footnote 41: "I am now, as I could wish every man of wisdom and virtueto be, in the regions of calm content and placid meditation. "--"TheIdler, " No. 71. --ED. ]

I must beg your pardon seriously for not writing to you, but I wasreally in such bad spirits, and such ill temper, at that cursed placeMorpeth, that it was impossible; but I assure you I will make upterribly. I am recruiting again; I believe our regiment won't go abroadthis summer. I was glad to see by the London newspapers, that Mr. RobertDodsley had at last published your Cub: Mr. H---- showed me a verysevere Epigram that somebody in London had written upon it. You know itis natural to take a lick at a Cub. Pray come to us. I cannot all atonce come into the way of letter-writing again, so I must conclude, Dear Boswell, Your affectionate friend, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXV. 

Auchinleck, April 22, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --This is a strange world that we live in. Things turn outin a very odd manner. Every day produces something more wonderful thananother. Earthquakes, murders, conflagrations, inundations, jubilees, operas, marriages, and pestilence, unite to make mortal men gape andstare. But your last letter and mine being wrote on the same day, astonishes me still more than all these things put together. 

This is the most unaccountable rhodomontade that I ever uttered. I amreally dull at present, and my affectation to be clever, is exceedinglyawkward. My manner resembles that of a footman who has got an ensign'scommission, or a kept mistress who is made a wife. 

I have not at any time been more insipid, more muddy, and morestanding-water like than I am just now. The country is my aversion. Itrenders me quite torpid. Were you here just now, you would behold yourvivacious friend a most stupid exhibition. It is very surprising thatthe country should affect me so; whether it be that the scenes to be metwith there, fall infinitely short of my ideas of pastoral simplicity; orthat I have acquired so strong a relish for the variety and hurry of atown life, as to languish in the stillness of retirement; or that theatmosphere is too moist and heavy, I shall not determine. 

I have now pretty good hopes of getting soon into the guards, that gayscene of life of which I have been so long and so violently enamoured. Surely this will cause you to rejoice. 

I have lately had the pleasure and the pride of receiving a mostbrilliant epistle from Lady B----. It excels Captain Andrew's letters bymany degrees. I have picked as many diamonds out of it, as to make me acomplete set of buckles; I have turned so much of it into brocadewaistcoats, and so much into a very rich suit of embroideredhorse-furniture. I know how unequal I am to the task of answering it;nevertheless present her Ladyship with the inclosed. It may amuse her alittle. It is better to have two shillings in the pound, than nothing atall. 

I was really shocked at the lethargy of our correspondence. Let it nowbe renovated with increase of spirit, so that I may not only subscribemyself your sincere friend, but your witty companion, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXVI. 

New-Tarbat, May 1, 1762. 

 Well then, my friend, you leave the bar, Resolv'd on drums, on dress, and war, While fancy paints in liveliest hues, Swords, sashes, shoulder-knots, reviews, You quit the study of the laws, And show a blade in Britain's cause, Of length to throw into a trance, The frighten'd kings of Spain and France! A hat of fiercest cock is sought, And your cockade's already bought, While on your coat there beams a lace, That might a captain-general grace!

 For me, who never show admir'd, Or very long ago was tir'd, I can with face unmov'd behold, A scarlet suit with glittering gold; And tho' a son of war and strife, Detest the listless languid life; Then coolly, Sir, I say repent, And in derision hold a tent; Leave not the sweet poetic band, To scold recruits, and pore on Bland, [42] Our military books won't charm ye, Not even th' enchanting list o' th' army. 

 Trust me, 'twill be a foolish sight, To see you facing to the right; And then, of all your sense bereft, Returning back unto the left; Alas! what transport can you feel, In turning round on either heel? Much sooner would I choose indeed, To see you standing on your head; Or with your breeches off to rub Foul clothes, and dance within a tub. 

[Footnote 42: Humphrey Bland, author of "Military Discipline, " (1727). He served under the Duke of Marlborough. Was present also at the battlesof Dettingen and Fontenoy. Became colonel of the Second DragoonGuards. --ED. ]

Besides, my dear Boswell, we find in all history ancient and modern, lawyers are very apt to run away. Demosthenes the Greek, writer to thesignet, who managed the great suit against Philip of Macedon, fairlyscoured off, I think, at the battle of Cheronea; and Cicero, the Romanadvocate is universally accused of cowardice. I am not indeed ignorantthat some of your ancestors behaved well at Flodden;[43] but as theylost the day, I think the omen but bad, and as they were killed, I thinkthat makes the omen still worse; however, perhaps you don't think so, and I allow that argument to be very convincing, and rather moreconclusive, than if you had said, "I don't know that. "

[Footnote 43: "Thomas Boswell obtained from James IV. , as a signal markof royal favour, the estate of Auchinleck. He was slain atFlodden. "--"Memoir of James Boswell, " by Rev. C. Rogers, p. 3. --ED. ]

You complain much of the country, and you assign various reasons fordisliking it; among others, you imagine the atmosphere too moist andheavy; I agree with you in that opinion, all the black clouds in the skyare continually pressing upon you, for as the proverb says, Like drawsto like. Believe me, I have sometimes taken you at a distance, for thepillar of smoke which used to accompany the Israelites out of Egypt; itwould be impossible to tell how many things I have taken you for atdifferent times; sometimes I have taken you for the witches' cauldron inMacbeth; this resemblance was in some degree warranted by your figureand shape; sometimes for an enormous ink-bottle; sometimes for a funeralprocession; now and then for a chimney sweeper, and not unfrequently fora black-pudding. For my part, Boswell, I must confess I am fond of thecountry to a degree; things there are not so artificially disguised asin towns, real sentiments are discovered, and the passions playnaturally and without restraint. As for example, it was only in thecountry I could have found out Lady J----'s particular attachment to thetune of _Appie Mac-Nab_; in the town, no doubt, she would have pretendeda great liking for Voi Amante; in the town, I never would have seen LadyB---- go out armed for fear of the Turkey-cock, which is her dailypractice here, and leaves room for numberless reflections: she cannoteat Turkeys when roasted or boiled; and she dreads them when alive somuch, that she displays every forenoon a cudgel to them, fitted by itssize to strike terror into a bull, or a butting cow. What can herkeeping of Turkeys be owing to? Assuredly to vanity, which is of such aninsinuating nature, that we are apt very often to meet it where we leastexpect it; I have seen it in an old shoe, in a dirty shirt, in a longnose, a crooked leg, and a red face. So much it seemed good for me tosay upon the subject of vanity, supporting by the most irrefragablearguments, the doctrine of Solomon. 

We had a visit from Mr. C---- of S---- here this morning; he came in achaise drawn by four bay horses; I am certain of the number, you maydraw what inference you please from this intelligence, I give you only asimple narration of the fact. I am surprised you say nothing of myproposal of your coming here, and still more that you say nothing ofyour Cub. Why don't you send me a copy? We were all so much entertainedwith your letter to Lady B----, that I was really seized with a qualm ofenvy; we regard it as one of those efforts of genius, which are onlyproduced by a fine flow of spirits, a beautiful day, and a good pen. 

I pray you, Boswell, note well this sheet of paper, its size ismagnificent: If Lady B---- was possessed of such an extent of plainground, she would undoubtedly throw it into a lawn, and plant it withclumps of trees, she would vary it with fish-ponds, and render it ruralwith flocks; here, where I am writing, might a cow feed; here might bean arbour; here, perhaps, might you recline at full length; by the edgeof this stream might the Captain walk, and in this corner, might LadyB---- give orders to her shepherds. I am drawn in the most irresistiblemanner to conclude, by the external impulse of the cloth's being laid, and by the internal impulse of being hungry. Believe me, Boswell, to bein the most unconscionable manner, your affectionate friend, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

P. S. --I send you franks, which return filled with the utmost wit andhumour. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXVII. 

Auchinleck, May 4, 1762. 

 For military operation[44] I have a wondrous inclination; Ev'n when a boy, with cheerful glee, The red-coats march I used to see; With joy beheld the corporals drill, The men upon the Castle-hill; And at the sound of drum and fife, Felt an unusual flow of life. Besides, my honest friend, you know I am a little of a beau. I'm sure, my friend need not be told, That Boswell's hat was edg'd with gold; And that a shining bit of lace, My brownish-colour'd suit did grace; And that mankind my hair might see, Powder'd at least two days in three. My pinchbeck buckles are admir'd By all who are with taste inspir'd. Trophies of Gallic pride appear, The crown to every Frenchman dear, And the enchanting fleur de lis, The flower of flowers you must agree; While for variety's sweet sake, And witty Charles's tale to wake, The curious artist interweaves A twisted bunch of oaken leaves. 

 Tell me, dear Erskine, should not I My favourite path of fortune try? Our life, my friend, is very short, A little while is all we've for't; And he is blest who can beguile, With what he likes, that little while. 

[Footnote 44: I have omitted the first eighty lines of this poem. --ED. ]

My fondness for the guards must appear very strange to you, who have arooted antipathy at the glare of scarlet. But I must inform you, thatthere is a city called London, for which I have as violent an affectionas the most romantic lover ever had for his mistress. There a man mayindeed soap his own beard, and enjoy whatever is to be had in thistransitory state of things. Every agreeable whim may be freely indulgedwithout censure. I hope, however, you will not impute my living inEngland, to the same cause for which Hamlet was advised to go there;because the people were all as mad as himself. 

I long much for another of our long conversations on a fine forenoon, after breakfast, while the sun sheds light and gladness around us. Believe me, Yours sincerely, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXVIII. 

Auchinleck, May 8, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --I should have wondered very much, had I been told of LadyJ----'s particular attachment to the tune of _Appie Mac-nab_, two monthsago: but I must inform you, that a few days before I left Edinburgh, having occasion to look into the advocates' library, I there chanced toturn up an old Roman song-book, and, to my great surprise, met with theindividual air of _Appie Mac-nab_, which I discovered to be part of anoriginal Patrician cantata on the daughter of the famous Appius, set forthe _Tibiæ sinistræ_. In a manuscript marginal note, it is said to havebeen composed by Tigellius the famous musician, whose death andcharacter Horace takes occasion to entertain and instruct us with, inthe second satire of his first Book. You see, therefore, that LadyJ----'s taste for Italian music, cannot be called in question; andindeed, I think her liking _Appie Mac-nab_, is a very strong proof ofit, as she certainly could not know its original. The Roman song-book, avery great curiosity, was brought from Rome some hundred years ago, byfather Macdonald, an old popish priest, who left it as a legacy to theDuke of Gordon. It is probable, that some musician in the North ofScotland, has transcribed the Appian cantata from it, and giving itsprincipal air a Scottish turn, and adapting proper words to it, hasproduced the vulgar ballad of _Appie Mac-nab_. 

Lady B----'s terror for the Turkey-cock, diverts me extremely. Did theybut come to an engagement, how noble must it be! The idea makes a strongimpression on my fancy. I shall certainly write something astonishingupon it. 

This charming weather has reconciled me to the country. It enlivens meexceedingly. I am cheerful and happy. I have been wandering by myself, all this forenoon, through the sweetest place in the world. The sunshineis mild, the breeze is gentle, my mind is peaceful. I am indulging themost agreeable reveries imaginable. I am thinking of the brilliantscenes of happiness, which I shall enjoy as an officer of the guards. How I shall be acquainted with all the grandeur of a court, and all theelegance of dress and diversions; become a favourite of ministers ofstate, and the adoration of ladies of quality, beauty, and fortune! Howmany parties of pleasure shall I have in town! How many fine jaunts tothe noble seats of dukes, lords, and members of parliament in thecountry! I am thinking of the perfect knowledge which I shall acquire ofmen and manners, of the intimacies which I shall have the honour toform with the learned and ingenious in every science, and of the manyamusing literary anecdotes which I shall pick up. I am thinking ofmaking the tour of Europe, and feasting on the delicious prospects ofItaly and France; of feeling all the transports of a bard at Rome, andwriting noble poems on the banks of the Tiber. I am thinking of thedistinguished honours which I shall receive at every foreign court, andof what infinite service I shall be to all my countrymen upon theirtravels. I am thinking of returning to England, of getting into thehouse of commons, of speaking still better than Mr. Pitt, and of beingmade principal secretary of state. I am thinking of having a regiment ofguards, and of making a glorious stand against an invasion by theSpaniards. I am thinking how I shall marry a lady of the highestdistinction, with a fortune of a hundred thousand pounds. I am thinkingof my flourishing family of children; how my sons shall be men of senseand spirit, and my daughters women of beauty, and every amiableperfection. I am thinking of the prodigious respect which I shallreceive, of the splendid books which will be dedicated to me, and thestatues which will be erected to my immortal honour. 

I am thinking that my mind is too delicate, and my feelings too fine forthe rough bustle of life; I am therefore thinking that I shall stealsilently and unperceived through the world; that I shall pass the winterin London, much in the same way that the Spectator describes himself tohave done; and in summer, shall live sometimes here at home; sometimesin such a pleasing retirement as Mrs. Row beautifully paints in herletters moral and entertaining. [45] I like that book much. I read itwhen I was very young, and I am persuaded, that it contributed toimprove my tender imagination. I am thinking that I shall feel my frametoo delicate for the British Climate. I am thinking that I shall go andlive in one of the most pleasant provincial towns in the South ofFrance, where I shall be blest with constant felicity. This is a schemeto which I could give vast praise, were I near the beginning of myletter; but as that is very far from being the case, I must reserve itfor a future epistle. 

[Footnote 45: "Letters, Moral and Entertaining, in Prose and Verse, " byElizabeth Rowe. --ED. ]

I am glad to find you are so anxious to hear about the Cub at Newmarket, Love me, love my Cub. However, I can tell you nothing about him. Dodsleyhas not yet sent me a copy. 

Derrick, [46] a London author, whom you have heard me mention, has sentme his versifications of the battle of Lora, and some of the Ersefragments. If you want to see them, let me have some franks. 

[Footnote 46: "Pray, Sir, " said Mr. Morgann to Johnson, "whether do youreckon Derrick or Smart the best poet?" Johnson at once felt himselfroused; and answered, "Sir, there is no settling the point of precedencybetween a louse and a flea. " Boswell's "Life of Johnson. " Date of March30th, 1783. --ED. ]

I shall be at Dumfries soon, where I hope to see my friend Johnston. Wewill talk much of old Scotch history, and the memory of former yearswill warm our hearts. We will also talk of Captain Andrew, with whom wehave passed many a pleasant hour. Johnston is a very worthy fellow: Imay safely say so; for I have lived in intimacy with him more years thanthe Egyptian famine lasted. 

And now, O most renowned of Captains! having fairly written myself outof pen, ink, and paper, I conclude with my usual epithet, of

Your affectionate friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXIX. 

New-Tarbat, May 13, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --Your first epistle being of a length which modern lettersseldom attain to, surprised me very much; but at the sight of yoursecond, consisting of such an exuberant number of sheets, I was no lessamazed than if I had wakened at three o'clock in the morning, and foundmyself fast clasped in the arms of the empress Queen; or if I had foundmyself at the mouth of the river Nile, half-eaten by a crocodile; or ifI had found myself ascending the fatal ladder in the Grass-market atEdinburgh, and Mr. Alexander Donaldson the hangman. To confess a truth, I imagine your funds for letter-writing are quite inexhaustible; andthat the fire of your fancy, like the coal at Newcastle, will never beburnt out; indeed, I look upon you in the light of an old stocking, inwhich we have no sooner mended one hole, than out starts another; or Ithink you are like a fertile woman, who is hardly delivered of onechild, before slap she is five months gone with a second. I need nottell you your letters are entertaining; I might as well acquaint KingGeorge the Third, that he is sovereign of Great Britain, or gravelydisclose to my servant, that his name is William. It is superfluous toinform people of what it is impossible they should not know. 

You think you have a knack of story-telling, but there you must yield tome, if you hearken attentively to what I am about to disclose, you willbe convinced; it is a tale, my dear Boswell, which whether we considerthe turnings and windings of fortune, or the sadness of the catastrophe, is delightful and improving. --You demand of me, Sir, a faithful recitalof the events which have distinguished my life. Though the remembranceof every misfortune which can depress human nature, must be painful; yetthe commands of such a revered friend as James Boswell must be obeyed;and Oh, Sir! if you find any of my actions blamable, impute them todestiny, and if you find any of them commendable, impute them to my goodsense. I am about fifty years of age, grief makes me look as if I wasfourscore; thirty years ago I was a great deal younger; and about twentyyears before that, I was just born; as I find nothing remarkable in mylife, before that event, I shall date my history from that period; someomens happened at my birth: Mr. Oman at Leith was married at that time;this was thought very portentous; the very day my mother was brought tobed of me, the cat was delivered of three kittens; but the world wassoon bereaved of them by death, and I had not the pleasure of passingmy infancy with such amiable companions; this was my first misfortune, and no subsequent one ever touched me more nearly; delightful innocents!methinks, I still see them playing with their tails, and galloping aftercorks; with what a becoming gravity did they wash their faces! howmelodious was their purring! From them I derived any little taste I havefor music; I composed an Ode upon their death; as it was my firstattempt in poetry, I write it for your perusal; you will perceive themarks of genius in the first production of MY TENDER IMAGINATION; andyou will shed a tear of applause and sorrow, on the remains of thoseanimals, so dear to the premature years of your mourning and lamentingfriend. 

 ODE

 ON THE DEATH OF THREE KITTENS. 

 STROPHE. 

 Attend, ye watchful cats, Attend the ever lamentable strain; For cruel death, most kind to rats, Has kill'd the sweetest of the kitten-train. 

 ANTISTROPHE. 

 How pleas'd did I survey, Your beauteous whiskers as they daily grew, I mark'd your eyes that beam'd so grey, But little thought that nine lives were too few. 

 EPODE. 

 It was delight to see My lovely kittens three, When after corks through all the room they flew, When oft in gamesome guise they did their tails pursue. When thro' the house, You hardly, hardly, heard a mouse; And every rat lay snug and still, And quiet as a thief in mill; But cursed death has with a blow, Laid all my hopes low, low, low, low: Had that foul fiend the least compassion known; I should not now lament my beauteous kittens gone. 

You have often wondered what made me such a miserable spectacle; grieffor the death of my kittens, has wrought the most wonderful effects uponme; grief has drawn my teeth, pulled out my hair, hollowed my eyes, bentmy back, crooked my legs, and marked my face with the small-pox; but Igive over this subject, seeing it will have too great a hold of yourtender imagination: I find myself too much agitated with melancholy toproceed any longer in my life to-day; the weather also is extremely bad, and a thousand mournful ideas rush into my mind; I am totallyoverpowered with them; I will now disburden myself to you, and set downeach sad thought as it occurs. 

I am thinking how I will never get a clean shirt to my back; how my coatwill always be out at the elbows; and how I never will get my breechesto stay up. I am thinking how I will be married to a shrew of a wife, who will beat me every evening and morning, and sometimes in the middleof the day. I am thinking what a d----d w---- she will be, and how mychildren will be most of them hanged, and whipped through towns, andburnt in the hand. I am thinking of what execrable poems I will write;and how I will be thrown into prison for debt; and how I will never getout again; and how nobody will pity me. I am thinking how hungry I willbe; and how little I will get to eat; and how I'll long for a piece ofroast-beef; and how they'll bring me a rotten turnip. And I am thinkinghow I will take a consumption, and waste away inch by inch; and how I'llgrow very fat and unwieldy, and won't be able to stir out of my chair. And I am thinking how I'll be roasted by the Portuguese inquisition; andhow I'll be impaled by the Turks; and how I'll be eaten by Cannibals;and how I'll be drowned on a voyage to the East Indies; and how I'll berobbed and murdered by a highwayman; and how I'll lose my senses; andhow very mad I'll be; and how my body will be thrown out to dogs todevour; and how I'll be hanged, drawn, and quartered; and how my friendBoswell will neglect me; and how I'll be despised by the whole world;and how I will meet with ten thousand misfortunes worse than the loss ofmy kittens. 

Thus have I, in a brief manner, related a few of the calamities which, in the present disposition of my mind, appear so dreadful; I could haveenlarged the catalogue, but your heart is too susceptible of pity, and Iwill not shock you altogether. You will doubtless remark the greatinequality of our fortunes. In your last letter, you was the happiestman I was ever acquainted with; I wish it may last, and that yourchildren may have as much merit as you imagine; I only hope you won'tplan a marriage with any of mine, their dispositions will be so unlike, that it must prove unhappy. 

Pray send me Derrick's versifications, which though they are undoubtedlyvery bad, I shall be glad to see, as sometimes people take a pleasure inbeholding a man hanged. And now, Boswell, I am going to end my letter, which being very short, I know will please you, as you will think youhave gained a complete victory over the captain, seeing that you areseveral sheets a-head of me; but times may alter, and when I resume myadventures, you will find yourself sorely defeated; believe me, Yours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXX. 

New-Tarbat, May 25, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --It has been said, that few people succeed both in poetryand prose. Homer's prose essay on the gun-powder-plot, is reckoned byall critics inferior to the Iliad; and Warburton's rhyming satire on themethodists is allowed by all to be superior to his prosaical notes onPope's works. Let it be mine to unite the excellencies both of prose andverse in my inimitable epistles. From this day, my prose shall have asmack of verse, and my verse have a smack of prose. I'll give you aspecimen of both--My servant addresses me in these words, very often--

 The roll is butter'd, and the kettle boil'd, Your honour's newest coat with grease is soil'd; In your best breeches glares a mighty hole, Your wash-ball and pomatum, Sir, are stole. Your tailor, Sir, must payment have, that's plain, He call'd to-day, and said he'd call again. 

There's prosaic poetry; now for poetic prose--Universal genius is a wideand diffused stream that waters the country and makes it agreeable; 'tistrue, it cannot receive ships of any burden, therefore it is of no solidadvantage, yet is it very amusing. Gondolas and painted barges floatupon its surface, the country gentleman forms it into ponds, and it isspouted out of the mouths of various statues; it strays through thefinest fields, and its banks nourish the most blooming flowers. Let mesport with this stream of science, wind along the vale, and glidethrough the trees, foam down the mountain, and sparkle in the sunny ray;but let me avoid the deep, nor lose myself in the vast profound, andgrant that I may never be pent in the bottom of a dreary cave, or be sounfortunate as to stagnate in some unwholesome marsh. Limited genius isa pump-well, very useful in all the common occurrences of life, thewater drawn from it is of service to the maids in washing their aprons;it boils beef, and it scours the stairs; it is poured into thetea-kettles of the ladies, and into the punch-bowls of the gentlemen. 

Having thus given you, in the most clear and distinct manner, mysentiments of genius, I proceed to give you my opinion of the ancientand modern writers; a subject, you must confess, very aptly andnaturally introduced. I am going to be very serious, you will trace aresemblance between me and Sir William Temple, [47] or perhaps DavidHume, Esq. 

[Footnote 47: Temple wrote "An Essay upon Ancient and ModernLearning. "--ED. ]

A modern writer must content himself with gleaning a few thoughts hereand there, and binding them together without order or regularity, thatthe variety may please; the ancients have reaped the full of theharvest, and killed the noblest of the game: in vain do we beat aboutthe once plenteous fields, the dews are exhaled, no scent remains. Howglorious was the fate of the early writers![48] born in the infancy ofletters; their task was to reject thoughts more than to seek after them, and to select out of a number, the most shining, the most striking, andthe most susceptible of ornament. The poet saw in his walks everypleasing object of nature undescribed; his heart danced with the gale, and his spirits shone with the invigorating sun, his works breathednothing but rapture and enthusiasm. Love then spoke with its genuinevoice, the breast was melted down with woe, the whole soul was dissolvedinto pity with its tender complaints; free from the conceits andquibbles which, since that time, have rendered the very name of itridiculous; real passion heaved the sigh; real passion uttered the mostprevailing language. Music too reigned in its full force; that softdeluding art, whose pathetic strains so gently steal into our verysouls, and involve us in the sweetest confusion; or whose animatingstrains fire us even to madness: how has the shore of Greece echoed withthe wildest sounds; the delicious warblings of the Lyre charmed andastonished every ear. The blaze of rhetoric then burst forth; theancients sought not by false thoughts, and glittering diction, tocaptivate the ear, but by manly and energetic modes of expression, torule the heart and sway the passions. 

[Footnote 48: "The most ancient poets are considered as the best . .. Whether the first writers took possession of the most striking objectsfor description, and the most probable occurrences for fiction, and leftnothing to those that followed them but transcription of the sameevents, and new combinations of the same images. "--"Rasselas, " chapterx. --ED. ]

There, Boswell, there are periods for you. Did you not imagine that youwas reading "The Rambler" of Mr. Samuel Johnson; or that Mr. ThomasSheridan[49] himself was resounding the praises of the ancients, and hisown art? I shall now finish this letter without the least blaze ofrhetoric, and with no very manly or energetic mode of expression, assureyou, that I am, Yours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

[Footnote 49: Thomas Sheridan, the father of R. B. Sheridan, was aboutthis time lecturing on Oratory. "He knows that I laugh at his oratory, "Johnson once said to Boswell. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXI. 

Auchinleck, June 1, 1762. 

At length, O Erskine! Lady B---- and the Turkey-cock are sung in strainssublime. I have finished an ode. Receive it with reverence. [50] It isone of the greatest productions of the human mind. Just that sort ofcomposition which we form an awful and ravishing conception of, in thosedivine moments, when the soul (to use a bold metaphor) is in full blow, and soaring fancy reaches its utmost heights. Could it but be reallypersonified--it would be like Saul of old, taller than any of thepeople, and were it to be guilty of a capital crime, it could not enjoyone of the greatest privileges of a British subject, to be tried by itsPeers. 

[Footnote 50: The Ode is not worth reprinting. --ED. ]

I am sure that my ode is great. Mr. James Bruce the gardener, myfaithful counsellor and very excellent companion, declares it is quiteto his mind. He stood by me while I took my portrait of the cock, from alarge one which struts upon the green. I shall be in Edinburgh in a fewdays; for which reason, I remain your affectionate friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXII. 

New-Tarbat, June 5, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --The first idea of our correspondence was not yours; for, many months before you addressed me, I wrote you the following letter atFort George, where you may remember our acquaintance commenced. You'llobserve that some of the stanzas[51] are parodies on Gray's Elegy in aChurch-yard, I use the liberty to mark them. I stood too much in awe ofyou, to send it when it was written, and I am too much at my ease now, to be withheld any longer from presenting you with it. 

I am, Sir, With the greatest respect and esteem, Your most obedient, And most humble servant, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

[Footnote 51: These stanzas are nearly as bad as Boswell's Ode, and, like it, are not worth reprinting. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXIII. 

Auchinleck, June 9, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --At this delightful season of the year, when everything ischeerful and gay, when the groves are all rich with leaves, the gardenswith flowers, and the orchards with blossoms, one would think it almostimpossible to be unhappy; yet such is my hard fate at present, thatinstead of relishing the beautiful appearance of nature, instead ofparticipating the universal joy, I rather look upon it with aversion, asit exhibits a strong contrast to the cloudy darkness of my mind, and sogives me a more dismal view of my own situation. Fancy, capricious fancywill allow me to see nothing but shade. How strange is it to think, thatI who lately abounded in bliss, should now be the slave of blackmelancholy! How unaccountable does it appear to the reasoning mind thatthis change should be produced without any visible cause. However, sinceI have been seized with _the pale cast of thought_, I know not how, Icomfort myself, that I shall get free of it as whimsically. You mustexcuse this piece of serious sententiousness; for it has relieved me;and you may look upon it as much the same with coughing before onebegins to sing, or deliver anything in public, in order that the voicemay be as clear as possible. 

The death of your kittens, my dear Erskine! affected me very much. Icould wish that you would form it into a tragedy, as the story isextremely pathetic, and could not fail greatly to interest the tenderpassions. If you have any doubts as to the propriety of their beingthree in number, I beg it of you to reflect that the immortalShakespeare has introduced three daughters into his tragedy of KingLear, which has often drawn tears from the eyes of multitudes. The sameauthor has likewise begun his tragedy of Macbeth with three witches; andMr. Alexander Donaldson has resolved, that his collection of originalpoems by Scotch gentlemen, shall consist of three volumes, and no more. 

I don't know, indeed, but your affecting tale might better suit theintention of an opera, especially when we consider the musical genius ofthe feline race: were a sufficient number of these animals put under thetuition of proper masters, nobody can tell what an astonishing chorusmight be produced. If this proposal shall be embraced, I make no doubtof its being the wonder of all Europe, and I remain, Yours, as usual, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXIV. 

New-Tarbat, June 14, 1762. 

AND are YOU gloomy! oh James Boswell! has your flow of spiritsevaporated, and left nothing but the black dregs of melancholy behind?has the smile of cheerfulness left your countenance? and is the laugh ofgaiety no more? oh woeful condition! oh wretched friend! but in thissituation you are dear to me; for lately my disposition was exactlysimilar to yours. No conversation pleased me; no books could fix myattention; I could write no letters, and I despised my own poems. Tellme how you was affected; could you speak any? could you fix yourthoughts upon anything but the dreary way you was in? and would not thesight of me have made you very miserable? I have lately had theepidemical distemper; I don't mean poverty, but that cold which theycall the influenza, and which made its first appearance in London;[52]whether it came to Scotland in the wagon, or travelled with a companionin a post-chaise, is quite uncertain. 

[Footnote 52: "The time is wonderfully sickly; nothing but sore-throats, colds, and fevers. " Horace Walpole, in a letter to George Montagu, April29, 1762. --ED. ]

Derrick's versifications are infamously bad; what think you of theReviewers commending such an execrable performance? I have a fancy towrite an ironical criticism upon it, and praise all the worst lines, which you shall send to Derrick, as the real sentiments of a gentlemanof your acquaintance on reading his work. For want of something else toentertain you, I begin my criticism immediately. --To versify poeticalprose has been found a very difficult task. Dr. Young and Mr. Langhorne, in their paraphrases upon the Bible (which Lord Bolingbroke tells us, isan excellent book) have succeeded but indifferently: I therefore took upMr. Samuel Derrick's versifications from Fingal, with little expectationof being entertained; but let no man judge of a book till at least hereads the title page; for lo! Mr. Samuel Derrick has adorned his with avery apt and uncommon quotation, from a good old poet called Virgil. Iam much pleased with the candour so conspicuous in the shortadvertisement to the public, in which Mr. Derrick seems very willing torun snacks in reputation with Mr. MacPherson, which will greatly rejoicethat gentleman, who cannot justly boast of so extensive a fame as Mr. Samuel Derrick. The dedication is very elegant, though, I am apt tothink, the author has neither praised Lord Pomfret nor himself enough;two worthy people, who, in my opinion, deserve it. But at last, we cometo the poems themselves: and here I might indulge myself in warm andindiscriminate applause; but let it be my ambition to trace Mr. Derrickstep by step through his wonderful work; let me pry both into thekitchen and dining-room of his genius, to use the comparison of thegreat Mr. Boyle. The first lines, or the exordium of the battle of Lora, are calmly sublime, and refined with simplicity. In the eighth line, ourauthor gives the epithet of posting to the wind, which is verybeautiful: however, to make it natural, it ought to be applied, inpoetical justice, to that wind which wafts a packet-boat. I had almostforgot, the sixth line says, "the voice of songs, a tuneful voice Ihear. " Now, I should be glad to know, whether these same songs be a manor a woman. Lines 23 and 24. 

 "In secret round they glanc'd their kindled eyes, Their indignation spoke in bursting sighs. "

It seems to me improbable, that a pair of kindled eyes could glance insecret; and I cannot think that sighs are the language of indignation. Lines 57, 58, 59. 

 "So on the settled sea blue mists arise, In vapory volumes darkening to the skies, They glitter in the sun. "

These mists that glitter and are dark at the same time, are veryextraordinary, and the contrast is lovely and new. Line 67thbegins--"His post is terror. "--This is a post, that, I believe, none ofour members of Parliament would accept. Lines 175, 176, "An hundred steeds he gives that own the rein, Never a swifter race devour'd the plain. "

Devoured the plain! if this is not sublime, then am I no critic;however, its lucky for the landed interest, that the breed of thosehorses is lost; they might do very well, I confess, in the Highlands ofScotland; but a dozen of them turned loose near Salisbury would beinconceivably hurtful. I'm tired of this stuff; if you think it worththe while you may end it and send it to Derrick; but let your part bebetter than mine, or it won't do. "Grief for thy loss drank all myvitals dry"--I laughed heartily at that line. 

In this letter I have bestowed my dulness[53] freely upon you; you havehad my wit, and you must take my stupidity into the bargain; as when wego to the market, we purchase bones as well as beef; and when we marryan heiress, we are obliged to take the woman as well as the money; andwhen we buy Donaldson's collection, we pay as dear for the poems of Mr. Lauchlan MacPherson, as we do for those written by the incomparableCaptain Andrew. 

[Footnote 53: "If I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in myheart to bestow it all of your worship. "--"Much Ado about Nothing. " Actiii. , scene 5. --ED. ]

You are in Edinburgh, I imagine, by this time, if the information of Mr. Alexander Donaldson may be depended upon. I shall be in town one nightsoon on my way to Kelly, for the H----s of D---- threaten an invasionupon this peaceful abode. Farewell. 

Yours sincerely, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXV. 

Edinburgh, June 19, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --You have upon many occasions made rather too free with myperson, upon which I have often told you that I principally valuemyself. I feel a strong inclination to retaliate. I have greatopportunity, and I will not resist it. Your figure, Erskine, isamazingly uncouth. The length of your body bears no manner of proportionto its breadth, and far less does its breadth bear to its length. If weconsider you one way, you are the tallest, and if we consider youanother way, you are the thickest man alive. The crookedness of yourback is terrible; but it is nothing in comparison of the frightfuldistortions of your countenance. What monsters have you been the causeof bringing into the world! not only the wives of sergeants andcorporals of the 71st regiment, but the unhappy women in every townwhere you was quartered, by looking at you have conceived in horror. Natural defects should be spared; but I must not omit the large holes inyour ears, and the deep marks of the iron on your hands. I hope you willallow these to be artificial. Nature nails no man's ears to thepillory. Nature burns no man in the hand. As I have a very sincerefriendship for you, I cannot help giving you my best advice with regardto your future schemes of life. I would beseech you to lay aside allyour chimerical projects, which have made you so absurd. You know verywell, when you went upon the stage at Kingston in Jamaica, howshamefully you exposed yourself, and what disgrace and vexation youbrought upon all your friends. You must remember what sort of treatmentyou met with, when you went and offered yourself to be one of thefathers of the inquisition at Macerata, in the room of Mr. ArchibaldBower;[54] a project which could enter into the head of no man who wasnot utterly destitute of common sense. 

[Footnote 54: The author of the "History of the Popes. " He had been aprofessor in the University of Macerata, and a Counsellor of theInquisition. He became a Protestant, and died in England. --ED. ]

You tell me, that your intention at present is, to take orders in theChurch of England; and you hope I will approve of your plan: but I musttell you honestly, that this is a most ridiculous hair-brained conceit. Before you can be qualified for the smallest living, you must study nineyears at Oxford; you must eat at a moderate computation, threescore offat beeves, and upwards of two hundred sheep; you must consume athousand stone of bread, and swallow ninety hogsheads of porter. Youflatter yourself with being highly promoted, because you are an Earl'sbrother, and a man of genius. But, my dear friend, I beg it of you toconsider, how little these advantages have already availed you. Thearmy was as good a scene for you to rise in as the church can be; andyet you are only a lieutenant in a very young regiment. 

I seriously think, that your most rational scheme should be, to turninn-keeper upon some of the great roads: you might have an elegant signpainted of Apollo and the Muses, and entertainment for men and horses, by THE HONOURABLE ANDREW ERSKINE, would be something very unusual, andcould not fail to bring numbers of people to your house. You would bythis means have a life of most pleasing indolence, and would never wanta variety of company, as you would constantly dine and sup with yourguests. Men of fashion would be glad to receive you as their equal; andmen of no fashion would be proud to sit at table with one who had anypretension to nobility. I hope the honest concern which I shew for yourreal welfare, will convince you how much I am, My dear Sir, Your most affectionate friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXVI. 

Kelly, July 5, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --Vanity has, in all former ages, been reckoned thecharacteristic of poets; in our time, I think they are more particularlydistinguished by modesty; I have carefully perused their works, and Ihave never once found them throwing out either thought, sentiment, orreflection of their own; convincing proof of their humility; they seemall to allow that the ancients, and some few of the earlier moderns, were much better writers than themselves; therefore they beg, borrow, and steal from them, without the smallest mercy or hesitation. In somethings, however, they are quite original; their margins and prices arelarger than any ever known before; and they advertise their pieces muchoftener in the newspapers than any of their predecessors. You complimentme highly on my elegies, and tell me that I have even dared to beoriginal now and then; and you ask me very seriously, how I come to beso well acquainted with the tender passion of love. --Ah, Sir, howdeceitful are appearances! under a forbidding aspect and uncouth form, Iconceal the soul of an Oroondates, a soul that thrills with the mostsensible emotions at the sight of beauty. Love easily finds access wherethe mind is naturally inclined to melancholy; we foster the pleasingdelusion, it grows up with our frame, and becomes a part of our being;long have I laboured under the influence of that passion; long vented mygrief in unavailing sighs. Besides, your thin meagre man is always themost violent lover; a thousand delusions enter his paper-skull, whichthe man of guts never dreams of. In vain does Cupid shoot his arrows atthe plump existence, who is entrenched in a solid wall of fat: they areburied like shrimps in melted butter; as eggs are preserved bymutton-tallow, from rottenness and putrefaction, so he, by his grease, is preserved from love. Pleased with his pipe, he sits and smokes inhis elbow-chair; totally unknown to him is the ardent passion thatactuates the sentimental soul: alas! unhappy man! he never indulged inthe pleasing reverie which inspires the spindle-shanked lover, as hestrays through nodding forest by gliding stream; if he marries, hechooses a companion fat as himself; they lie together, and most musicalis their snore, they melt like two pounds of butter in one plate in asunshiny-day. 

Pray, Boswell, remember me kindly to honest Johnston. Let me know if histrees are growing well, at his paternal estate of Grange; if he is asfond of Melvil's Memoirs[55] as he used to be; and if he continues tostretch himself in the sun upon the mountains near Edinburgh. 

I ever am, Yours most affectionately, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

[Footnote 55: Sir James Melville. Born 1535, died 1607. His "Memoirs"were published in 1683. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXVII. 

Kelly, July 6, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --Nothing happened during my journey; I arrived in Aberdeenon Thursday last; the town is really neater, cleaner, and better thanyou would imagine; but the country around is dismal; long gloomy moors, and the extended ocean, are the only prospects that present themselves;the whole region seems as if made in direct opposition to descriptivepoetry. You meet here with none of the lengthened meads, sunny valesand dashing streams, that brighten in the raptured poet's eye; however, as I believe you have been here, I shall trouble you with no fartherdescriptions. 

Never was parting more tender than that of mine with George Robertsonthe postilion, and the Kelly chaise at Dundee water-side; we formed asdolorous a trio as then existed upon the face of this valley of tears. Oh George! Oh! Erskine! were the cries that echoed across the waves, andalong the mountains. 

 Tears trickled down the rugged boatman's face, An unpaid freight he thought no harder case; The seals no longer sported in the sea, While ev'ry bell rung mournful in Dundee, Huge ploughmen wept, and stranger still, 'tis said, So strong is sympathy, that asses bray'd. 

Farewell, lovely George, I roared out, and oh! if you should happen tobe dry, for such is the nature of sorrow, take this shilling, and spendit in the sugared ale, or the wind-expelling dram: with sweet reluctancehe put forth his milk-white hand, cold with clammy sweat, and with afaltering voice, feebly thanked me. Oh! I shall never forget my emotionswhen he drove from me, and the chaise lessened in my view; now itwhirled sublime along the mountain's edge; now, I scarcely saw the headof George nodding in the vale. Thus, on the summit of a craggy cliff, which high overlooks the resounding waves, Jean, Susan, or Nell, sees ina boat her lovely sailor, who has been torn from her arms by a cruelpress-gang; now it climbs the highest seas; now it is buried betweentwo billows, and vanishes from her sight. Weep not, sweet maid, he shallreturn loaded with honours; a gold watch shall grace each fob, a pair ofsilver buckles shall shine resplendent upon his shoes, and a silkhandkerchief shall be tied around his neck, which soon shall cover thysnowy bosom. 

When the chaise was totally lost, and my breast was distracted with athousand different passions; all of a sudden I broke out into thefollowing soliloquy. --Surely, surely mortal man is a chaise: nowtrailing through the heavy sand of indolence, anon jolted to death uponthe rough road of discontent; and shortly after sunk in the deep rut oflow spirits; now galloping on the post-road of expectation, andimmediately after, trotting on the stony one of disappointment; but thedays of our driving soon cease, our shafts break, our leather rots, andwe tumble into a hole. 

Adieu, yours, ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXVIII. 

Kelly, July 7, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --I imagined, that by ceasing to write to you for sometime, I should be able to lay up a stock of materials, enough toastonish you, and that, like a river damm'd up, when let loose, I shouldflow on with unusual rapidity; or like a man, who has not beat his wifefor a fortnight, I should cudgel you with my wit for hours together;but I find the contrary of all this is the case; I resemble a personlong absent from his native country, of which he has formed a thousandendearing ideas, and to which he at last returns; but alas! he beholdswith sorrowful eyes, everything changed for the worse; the town where hewas born, which used to have two snows[56] and three sloops trading toall parts of the known world, is not now master of two fishing-boats;the steeple of the church, where he used to sleep in his youth, is rentwith lightning; and the girl on whom he had placed his early affections, has had three bastard children, and is just going to be delivered of afourth; or I resemble a man who has had a fine waistcoat lying long inthe very bottom of a chest, which he is determined shall be put on atthe hunter's ball; but woe's me, the lace is tarnished, and the mothshave devoured it in a melancholy manner; these few similies may serve toshew, that this letter has little chance of being a good one; yet theydon't make the affair certain. Prince Ferdinand beat the French atMinden; Sheridan, in his lectures, sometimes spoke sense; and John Homewrote one good play. [57] I have read Lord Kames's Elements, [58] andagree very heartily with the opinion of the Critical Reviewers; however, I could often have wished, that his Lordship had been less obscure, orthat I had had more penetration; he praises the Mourning Brideexcessively, which, nevertheless, I can not help thinking a veryindifferent play; the plot wild and improbable, and the languageinfinitely too high and swelling. [59] It is curious to see the opinionsof the Reviewers concerning you and me; they take you for a poordistressed gentleman, writing for bread, and me for a very impudentIrishman; whereas you are heir to a thousand a year, and I am one of themost bashful Scotchmen that ever appeared! I confess, indeed, mybashfulness does not appear in my works, for them I print in the mostimpudent manner; being exceeded in that respect by nobody but JamesBoswell, Esq. 

Yours, &c. , ANDREW ERSKINE. 

[Footnote 56: A snow (Low-German, snau; High-German, schnau) is a smallvessel with beaked or snout-like bows, according to Wedgewood. But moreprobably it takes its name from the triangular shape of itssails. --Schnauzegel, a trysail. --ED. ]

[Footnote 57: "As we sat over our tea, Mr. Home's tragedy of Douglas wasmentioned. I put Dr. Johnson in mind that once, in a coffee-house atOxford, he called to old Mr. Sheridan, 'how came you, Sir, to give Homea gold medal for writing that foolish play?'" Boswell's "Tour to theHebrides. " Date of October 26, 1773. --ED. ]

[Footnote 58: "The Elements of Criticism, " by Henry Home, Lord Kames. "Sir, " said Johnson, "this book is a pretty essay and deserves to beheld in some estimation though much of it is chimerical!" Boswell's"Life of Johnson. " Date of May 16, 1763. --ED. ]

[Footnote 59: "In this play there is more bustle than sentiment; theplot is busy and intricate, and the events take hold on the attention;but, except a very few passages, we are rather amused with noise, andperplexed with stratagem, than entertained with any true delineation ofnatural characters. "--Johnson's "Lives of the Poets. "--ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER XXXIX. 

Kames, October 19, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --In my own name, and in the name of Lord Kames, I desireto see you here immediately. I have been reading the "Elements ofCriticism. " You and the Reviewers have pronounced enough of seriouspanegyric on that book. In my opinion, it has the good properties of allthe four elements. It has the solidity of earth, the pureness of air, the glow of fire, and the clearness of water. The language is excellent, and sometimes rises to so noble a pitch, that I exclaim, in imitation ofZanga in the Revenge, [60]

 "I like this roaring of the Elements. "

[Footnote 60: "The Revenge, " a tragedy, by Edward Young, author of"Night Thoughts. "--ED. ]

If this does not bring you, nothing will; and so, Sir, I continue, Yours as usual, JAMES BOSWELL. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XL. 

Kelly, October 28, 1762. 

Dear BOSWELL, --How shall I begin? what species of apology shall I make?the truth is, I really could not write, my spirits have been depressedso unaccountably. I have had whole mountains of lead pressing me down:you would have thought that five Dutchmen had been riding on my back, ever since I saw you; or that I had been covered with ten thousandfolios of controversial divinity; you would have imagined that I wascrammed in the most dense part of a plumb-pudding, or steeped in ahogshead of thick English Port. Heavens! is it possible, that a man ofsome fame for joking, possessed of no unlaughable talent in punning, andendued with no contemptible degree of liveliness in letter-writing, should all of a sudden have become more impenetrably stupid than aHottentot legislator, or a moderator of the general assembly of the Kirkof Scotland. By that smile which enlivens your black countenance, like afarthing candle in a dark cellar, I perceive I am pardoned; indeed Iexpected no less; for, I believe, if a sword was to run you through thebody, or a rope was to hang you, you would forget and forgive: you areat Kames just now, very happy, I suppose; your letter seems to come froma man in excellent spirits; I am very unequal at present to the task ofwriting an answer to it, but I was resolved to delay no longer, lest youshould think I neglected you wilfully; a thought, I'm sure, you nevershall have occasion to entertain of me, though the mist of dulnessshould for ever obscure and envelope my fancy and imagination. I cannotthink of coming to Kames, yet I am sufficiently thankful for theinvitation; my lowness would have a very bad effect in a cheerfulsociety; it would be like a dead march in the midst of a hornpipe, or amournful elegy in a collection of epigrams. 

Farewell. Yours, &c. , ANDREW ERSKINE. 

 * * * * *

LETTER XLI. 

Parliament-Close, Nov. 10, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --All I have now to say, is to inform you, that I shall setout for London on Monday next, and to beg that you may not leaveEdinburgh before that time. 

My letters have often been carried to you over rising mountains androlling seas. This pursues a simpler track, and under the tuition of acadie, [61] is transmitted from the Parliament-Close to the Canongate. Thus it is with human affairs; all is fluctuating, all is changing. Believe me, Yours, &c. 

JAMES BOSWELL. 

[Footnote 61: "There is at Edinburgh a society or corporation oferrand-boys, called 'cawdies, ' who ply in the streets at night withpaper lanthorns, and are very serviceable in carrying messages. "--"HumphryClinker, " vol. Ii. , p. 240. --ED. ]

 * * * * *

LETTER XLII. 

London, Nov. 20, 1762. 

Dear ERSKINE, --What sort of a letter shall I now write to you? Shall Icram it from top to bottom with tables of compound interest? withanecdotes of Queen Anne's wars? with excerpts from Robertson's history?or with long stories translated from Olaus Wormius?[62]

[Footnote 62: A distinguished Danish historian and antiquary, "Known inthe history of anatomy by the bones of the skull named after him _ossaWormiana_. "--ED. ]

To pass four-and-twenty hours agreeably was still my favourite plan. Ithink at present that the mere contemplation of this amazing bustle ofexistence, is enough to make my four-and-twenty go merrily round. I wentlast night to Covent-Garden; and saw Woodward play Captain Bobadil;[63]he is a very lively performer; but a little extravagant: I was too latefor getting into Drury-Lane, where Garrick played King Lear. Thatinimitable actor is in as full glory as ever; like genuine wine, heimproves by age, and possesses the steady and continued admiration evenof the inconstant English. [64]

[Footnote 63: In Ben Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour. " This wasthought to be Woodward's masterpiece. --ED. ]

[Footnote 64: This is scarcely correct. Garrick's popularity was, atthis time, falling off, and his theatre did not fill. "The profits ofthe following season, " says Davies, "fell very short to those of thepreceding years. " At the close of the season he went abroad, and wasaway for nearly two years. In Rogers's "Table Talk, " it isrecorded--"Before his going abroad, Garrick's attraction had muchdecreased; Sir W. W. Pepys said that the pit was often almost empty. But, on his return to England, people were mad about seeing him. " Hispopularity did not wane a second time. --ED. ]

I don't know what to say to you about myself: if I can get into theGuards, it will please me much; if not, I can't help it. Perhaps you mayhear of my turning Templar, and perhaps ranger of some of his Majesty'sparks. It is not impossible but I may catch a little true poeticinspiration, and have my works splendidly printed at Strawberry-hill, under the benign influence of the Honourable Horace Walpole. [65] You andI, Erskine, are, to be sure, somewhat vain. We have some reason too. TheReviewers gave great applause to your Odes to Indolence and Impudence;and they called my poems "agreeable light pieces, " which was the verycharacter I wished for. Had they said less, I should not have beensatisfied; and had they said more, I should have thought it a burlesque. 

[Footnote 65: Walpole always expressed the greatest contempt forBoswell. In one of his letters he says that "he is the ape of most ofJohnson's faults, without a grain of his sense. " In another letter hewrites about "a jackanapes who has lately made a noise here, oneBoswell, by anecdotes of Dr. Johnson. " Improbable though it was thatBoswell should catch a little true poetic inspiration, it was still moreimprobable that he should ever have a single one of his works printed atThe Strawberry Press. --ED. ]

What a fine animated prospect of life now spreads before me! Be assured, that my genius will be highly improved, and please yourself with thehopes of receiving letters still more entertaining. I ever am, Your affectionate friend, JAMES BOSWELL. 

THE JOURNAL

OF

A TOUR

TO

CORSICA. 

INTRODUCTION. 

The following sketch of the Corsican War of Independence may, perhaps, enable the reader better to follow Boswell in his narrative, and in hisdescription of Paoli's character. I have founded it chiefly on Boswell'sown account, though I have, at the same time consulted otherauthorities. As an historical writer, in theory at least, he wouldscarcely satisfy the exact school of historians that has sprung up sincehis day. "I confess I am not, " he says in his second chapter, "forhumouring an inordinate avidity for positive evidence. " He is speaking, however, about the origin of nations, and not about the wars of Corsica, which he describes at some length. 

From about the beginning of the fourteenth century Corsica had belongedto the Republic of Genoa. The islanders had proved restive under theyoke of their hard masters, and more than once had risen in revolt. TheGovernment of the Republic was, indeed, the worst of despotisms. Asuccession of infamous Governors--men who came to Corsica poor, and, after their two years of office, returned to Genoa rich--had cruellyoppressed the people. By their ill-gotten wealth, and by their interestin the Senate, they were able on their return to secure themselvesagainst any inquiry into their conduct. The foreign trade of theislanders was almost ruined by a law which appointed Genoa as the soleport to which their products could be exported. The Corsicans, like manyother mountaineers, had always been too much given up to private feuds. But it was charged against their Genoese masters, that, in their dreadof union among their subjects, they themselves fomented dissentions. Itwas asserted in a petition presented to the King of France in 1738, that, under the last sixteen Governors, no less than 26, 000 Corsicanshad died by the hands of the assassin. 

In the legal proceedings that followed on these deeds of bloodshed, theGenoese judges found their profit. Condemnation was often followed byconfiscation of the criminal's estates; acquittal had often beenpreceded by a heavy bribe to the judge. Multitudes were condemned to thegalleys on frivolous charges in the hope that they would purchase theirfreedom at a high price. The law was even worse than the judges. A mancould be condemned to the galleys or to death on secret information, without being once confronted with his accusers, without undergoing anyexamination, without the observance of any formality of any kind in thesentence that was passed on him. The judge could either acquit thegreatest criminal, or condemn a man of stainless character "_exinformata conscientia_, on the information of his own conscience, ofwhich he was not obliged to give any account. " He could at any time stopthe course of justice, "by saying '_Non procedatur_, let there be noprocess;' which could easily be cloaked under the pretence of somedefect in point of form. " When this atrocious law was at last abolished, Montesquieu wrote, "On a vu souvent des peuples demander des priviléges;ici le souverain accorde le droit de toutes les nations. " No wonder thatHorace Walpole exclaimed more than twenty years before Boswell's bookwas published, "I hate the Genoese; they make a commonwealth the mostdevilish of all tyrannies!"

In 1729 the people rose once more against their rulers. It was the caseof Wat Tyler over again. A tax-gatherer demanded a small sum--it was butabout fivepence--of a poor old woman. Small as it was, she had notwherewithal to pay. He abused her, and seized some of her furniture. Sheraised an outcry. Her neighbours came flocking in and took her part. Thetax-gatherer used threats, and was answered with a volley of stones. Troops were sent to support him in the execution of his office, and thepeople, in their turn, flew to their weapons. The revolt spread, andsoon the whole island was in arms. The Genoese, as vassals of theEmpire, sought the aid of their sovereign lord, the Emperor Charles theSixth, who sent a strong body of troops to the island. The Corsicanswere unable to resist, and "laid down their arms, upon condition that atreaty should be made between them and the Genoese, having for guaranteethe Emperor. " Hostages were sent by the islanders, to whom the Republicwas inclined to show but scant respect. In fact, the Emperor's consentto their execution had been almost obtained, when the Prince ofWirtemberg, the commander of the imperial forces in Corsica, sent anexpress to Vienna, "with a very strong letter, representing how much thehonour of Cæsar would suffer, should he consent to the death of thosewho had surrendered themselves upon the faith of his sacred protection. "The great Prince Eugene also spoke out, and for this time, Cæsar'shonour--at all events, all that was left of it--was saved. 

The suspension of hostilities was but short; for neither was the crueltyof the Genoese, nor the hatred of the Corsicans easily confined withinthe limits of a treaty. "There is not, " writes Boswell, "a Corsicanchild who can procure a little gun-powder, but he immediately sets fireto it, huzzas at the explosion, and, as if he had blown up the enemy, calls out, 'Ecco i Genovesi; there go the Genoese!'" In 1734, the wholeisland once more was in the flames of an insurrection. Giafferi andGiacinto Paoli, the father of the famous Pascal Paoli, were chosen asleaders. The Genoese hired Swiss mercenaries. They thought that againstsoldiers, brought up amidst the Alps, as these had been, the mountainsof Corsica would provide no shelter for freedom. But the Swiss "soon sawthat they had made a bad bargain, and that they gave the Genoese toomuch blood for their money. " When at Lucerne we gaze at the noblemonument set up by Switzerland in memory of her sons who were massacredin Paris, it is well at times to remember how the Swiss lion was at thehire of the very jackals of the world. 

Genoa next published an indemnity to all her assassins and outlaws, oncondition that they should fight for the Republic, in Corsica. "Therobbers and assassins of Genoa, " writes Boswell, "are no inconsiderableproportion of her people. These wretches flocked together from allquarters, and were formed into twelve companies. " The Corsican chiefscalled a general assembly, in which "On donna la Corse à la ViergeMarie, qui ne parut pas accepter cette couronne. "[66] They were not, however, to be left long without a king, for the following year one ofthe strangest adventurers whom the world has ever seen made a bid forthe crown. He promised the islanders the support of the great powers, and, with their aid, he undertook, if he were made king, to clearCorsica of her enemies. Men whose fortunes are well-nigh desperate, areof easy faith, and the conditions of this poor German Baron wereaccepted. 

[Footnote 66: Voltaire, "Précis du Siècle de Louis XV. , " chapter xl. ]

His name was Theodore. He was Baron Neuhof, in the county of La Marc, inWestphalia. Horace Walpole, who had seen him, describes him as "acomely, middle-sized man, very reserved, and affecting much dignity. "Boswell says that "he was a man of abilities and address. " He had servedin the French army, and, later on, had travelled through Spain, Italy, England, and Holland, ever in search of some new adventure. He hadpassed over to Tunis, and, under pretence of conquering Corsica for thatpower, had obtained a supply of money and arms. In a ship of ten gunsfurnished by the Bey, but carrying the English flag, which Theodore hadthe impudence to raise, he sailed to Leghorn. There he sold the ship, and despatched his offers to the Corsican leaders. 

He quickly passed over to the island. This was in the spring of 1736. "He was a man of a very stately appearance, and the Turkish dress whichhe wore, added to the dignity of his mien. .. . He had his guards, and hisofficers of state. He conferred titles of honour, and he struck money, both of silver and copper. There was such a curiosity over all Europe tohave King Theodore's coins, that his silver coins were sold at fourzechins each; and when the genuine ones were exhausted, imitations ofthem were made at Naples, and, like the imitations of antiques, werebought up at a high price, and carefully preserved in the cabinets ofthe virtuosi. " He boasted of the immense treasures he had brought withhim, and, as a proof, he scattered among the people fifty sequins insmall coins of a debased or worn out currency. "Il donna des souliers debon cuir, magnificence ignorée en Corse. " He blockaded the seaport townsthat were in the occupation of the Genoese. "He used to be sometimes atone siege, sometimes at another, standing with a telescope in his hand, as if he spied the assistance which he said he expected" from hisallies, the other monarchs of Europe. Couriers, who had been despatchedby himself, were constantly arriving from Leghorn, bringing himdespatches, as he pretended, from the great powers. The Genoese set aprice on his head. He replied in a manifesto, with all the calmness anddignity of an injured monarch. 

At the end of eight months, he "perceived that the people began to coolin their affections towards him, and he therefore wisely determined toleave them for a little, and try his fortune again upon the continent. "He went to Amsterdam, where he was thrown into prison for debt. But evenin prison he made fresh dupes. He induced some merchants, particularlyJews, to pay his debts, and to furnish him with a ship, arms, andprovisions. He undertook in return, that they, and they alone, shouldcarry on the whole foreign trade of Corsica. When he reached the islandhe did not venture to land; but contented himself with disembarking hisstores, and with putting to death the supercargo, "that he might nothave any trouble from demands being made upon him. " In the end heretired to London. "I believe I told you that King Theodore is here, "wrote Horace Walpole in 1749, to Sir Horace Mann, our Envoy at Florence. "I am to drink coffee with him to-morrow at Lady Schaub's. "

The rest of the story of this adventurer is so strange that, though itscarcely bears on Corsica, I shall venture to continue it. In the summerof the next year Walpole writes to his friend, "I believe I told youthat one of your sovereigns, and an intimate friend of yours, KingTheodore, is in the King's Bench prison. " The unfortunate monarchlanguished there for some years. Walpole, with a kindliness which wasnatural to him, raised a subscription for his majesty. He advocated hiscause in a paper in "The World, " with the motto _Date obolum Belisario_. But he wrote to his former correspondent, "His majesty's character is sobad, that it only raised fifty pounds; and though that was so much abovehis desert, it was so much below his expectation, that he sent asolicitor to threaten the printer with a prosecution for having taken somuch liberty with his name--take notice, too, that he had accepted themoney! Dodsley, you may believe, laughed at the lawyer; but that doesnot lessen the dirty knavery. .. . I have done with countenancing kings. "After he had remained in prison more than six years, "he took thebenefit of the Act of Insolvency, and went to the Old Bailey for thatpurpose: in order to it, the person applying gives up all his effects tohis creditors: his Majesty was asked what effects he had? He replied'Nothing but the kingdom of Corsica;' and it was actually registered forthe benefit of his creditors. As soon as Theodore was at liberty, hetook a chair and went to the Portuguese Minister, but did not find himat home; not having sixpence to pay, he prevailed on the chairmen tocarry him to a tailor he knew in Soho, whom he prevailed upon to harbourhim; but he fell sick the next day, and died in three more. " Walpoleset up a stone in St. Ann's Churchyard, Soho, in memory of his majesty, with the following inscription:--

 Near this place is interred Theodore, King of Corsica; Who died in this parish, Dec. 11, 1756, Immediately after leaving the King's Bench Prison, By the benefit of the Act of Insolvency: In consequence of which, he registered His Kingdom of Corsica For the use of his Creditors. 

 The Grave, great teacher, to a level brings, Heroes and beggars, galley-slaves and kings. But Theodore this moral learn'd, ere dead; Fate pour'd its lessons on his living head, Bestow'd a kingdom and denied him bread. 

Disappointed though they were in their king, the Corsicans neverthelesscarried on the war with spirit. They would, no doubt, have soon freedthe whole island, had not the French come to the help of theiroppressors. It was in vain that the islanders sent a memorial to theKing of France. "If, " said their spokesman to Louis XV. , "your sovereigncommands force us to yield to Genoa, well then, let us drink this bittercup to the health of the most Christian king, and die. " The king andthe emperor acting together drew up articles of peace which seemed fairenough; but, as a preliminary, the Corsicans were to be disarmed. Tothis they refused to yield. Their leaders "published a spiritedmanifesto to their countrymen, concluding it with the noble sentiment ofJudas Maccabeus: 'Melius est mori in bello quam videre mala gentisnostrae. It is better for us to die in battle than to behold thecalamities of our people. '" The French dispatched an expedition to theassistance of the Genoese which utterly failed. The following year(1739) a more formidable expedition was sent under an able commander, the Marquis de Maillebois. He divided his forces into two bodies. Marching through the heart of the country each army carried devastationin its path. "He cut down the standing corn, " writes Boswell, "thevines, the olives, set fire to the villages, and spread terror anddesolation in every quarter. He hanged numbers of monks and others whowere keenest in the revolt, and at the same time published, wherever hewent, his terms of capitulation. " In a few weeks, all but the wildestparts of the island were reduced. By the end of the next year there wasnot a single patriot left in arms. 

In 1741 broke out the war of the Austrian Succession, and the Frenchtroops, which were needed elsewhere, were recalled. Once more the islandrose; even young boys took the field. The Genoese were driven into thefortified towns. The Corsican leader Gaffori was besieging the Castle ofCorte, when the defenders, making a sudden sally, seized his infant son, whom his nurse had thoughtlessly carried too near the walls. "TheGeneral, " says Boswell, in language which strikes us as most odd, though, to the men of his time, it sounded perhaps natural enough, "showed a decent concern at this unhappy accident, which struck a dampinto the whole army. The Genoese, " he goes on to say, "thought theycould have Gaffori upon their own terms, since they were possessed of sodear a pledge. When he advanced to make some cannon play, they held uphis son, directly over that part of the wall against which his artillerywas levelled. The Corsicans stopped, and began to draw back; butGaffori, with the resolution of a Roman, stood at their head, andordered them to continue the fire. " The child escaped and lived to tellBoswell this curious story. 

In 1745, England "not, as if from herself, but as complying with therequest of her ally, the king of Sardinia, " sent a squadron of ships tothe assistance of the Corsicans. They came before Bastia on November18th--three days, as it is worth while noticing, after the town ofCarlisle had surrendered to the forces of the Young Pretender. "Therewas but little wind blowing, and the men of war had to be towed up bythe long boats. The fortress of Bastia let fly first, and made aterrible fire, particularly against the commodore's ship, whose flag wasbeat down three times, and her main and mizen masts broke. The Commodorebeing exasperated immediately ordered the Castle to be cannonaded andbombarded, which was continued near two hours with extraordinary fury, when part of the wall was seen to tumble down. "[67] The placesurrendered in a few days to the Corsicans. In the following year thepatriots sent envoys to the English ambassador at Turin with proposalsthat Corsica should put herself entirely under the protection of GreatBritain. No definite answer was given. In 1748 some English troops werelanded in the island, but on the conclusion of the peace ofAix-la-Chapelle they were withdrawn, and the Corsicans and Genoese wereagain left to fight out their own battles. 

[Footnote 67: "The Gentleman's Magazine, " vol. Xv. , p. 628. ]

Five years later (1753) Gaffori, who had long held the office of solegeneral of the island, was carried off by assassination. "Themurderers, " says Boswell, "were set on by the Republic. At least, it isa fact that some of these wretches have still a miserable pension tosupport them, in the territory of Genoa. " His place was filled by PascalPaoli, the son of the old Corsican leader, who ever since the Frenchinvasion had lived with his boy in retirement at Naples. When the youngman was sent for by his countrymen, his old father, "hoary and gray withyears, fell on his neck and kissed him, gave him his blessing, and witha broken feeble voice, encouraged him in the undertaking on which he wasentering: 'My son, ' said he, 'I may, possibly, never see you more; butin my mind I shall ever be present with you. Your design is a great anda noble one; and I doubt not, but God will bless you in it. '"

Paoli's task was full of difficulties. In "the affairs of Corsica, hefound the utmost disorder and confusion. There was no subordination, nodiscipline, no money, hardly any arms and ammunition; and, what wasworse than all, little union among the people. He immediately began toremedy these defects. His persuasion and example had wonderful force. Ina short time he drove the Genoese to the remotest corners of theisland. .. . He, in a manner, new-modelled the government upon thesoundest principles of democratical rule, which was always his favouriteidea. " He carried a law by which assassination was made capital onwhatever pretence it had been committed. He set about establishingschools in every village, and he founded a University at Corte. Boswellwriting to Temple in 1767 says, "I have received an elegant letter fromthe University of Corte, and also an extract of an oration pronouncedthis year at the opening of the University, in which oration I amcelebrated in a manner which does me the greatest honour. "

But the jealousy of France was again excited, and again she sent troopsto the island. This was in 1764, nine years after Paoli had received thesupreme command. Rousseau, full of indignation at this monstrousproceeding, thus expressed himself in a letter to a friend, "Il fautavouer que vos François, sont un peuple bien servile, bien vendu à latyrannie, bien cruel, et bien acharné sur les malheureux. S'ils savoientun homme libre à l'autre bout du monde, je crois qu'ils iroient pour leseul plaisir de l'exterminer. It must be owned that your countrymen, theFrench, are a very servile nation, wholly sold to tyranny, exceedinglycruel and relentless in persecuting the unhappy. If they knew of a freeman at the other end of the world I believe they would go thither forthe mere pleasure of extirpating him. " The French did not act on theoffensive. They merely garrisoned certain towns, and professed to limittheir occupation to the space of four years. It was in the second yearof their occupation (1765) that Boswell visited the island. 

At the end of the four years the Republic of Genoa ceded Corsica to thecrown of France. In the cession there was a pretence of a reservationwith which it is needless to trouble the reader. "Genoa, " writesVoltaire, "made a good bargain, and France made a better. " "Il restait àsavoir, " he added, "si les hommes ont le droit de vendre d'autreshommes, mais c'est une question qu'on n'examina jamais dans aucuntraité. " Negociations were opened with Paoli, but there was no commonground between the free chief of a free people and the despot who wishedto enslave them. Paoli might have looked for high honours and rewardshad he consented to enter the French service. He had the far greater andpurer glory of resisting a King of France for nearly a whole year. Noforeign power came to his aid. "A few Englishmen alone, " wrote Voltaire, "full of love for that liberty which he upheld, sent him some money andarms. " His troops were badly armed. Their muskets were not evenfurnished with bayonets. Their courage went some way to make up fortheir want of proper weapons. In one battle they piled up in front ofthem a rampart of their dead, and behind this bloody pile they loadedtheir pieces before they began their retreat. 

But against the disciplined forces that France could bring, allresistance was in vain. "Poor brave Paoli!" wrote Horace Walpole, "buthe is not disgraced. We, that have sat still and seen him overwhelmed, must answer it to history. Nay, the Mediterranean will taunt us in thevery next war. " Walpole wrote this letter but two months before thebirth of Buonaparte. Had England, who has joined in many a worthlessquarrel, struck in for the Corsicans, what a change might have been madein the history of the world! If Buonaparte had never been a citizen ofFrance the name of Napoleon might be unknown. Paoli escaped in anEnglish ship, and settled in England. Walpole met him one day at Court. "I could not believe it, " he wrote, "when I was told who he was. .. . Nobody sure ever had an air so little foreign!. .. The simplicity of hiswhole appearance had not given me the slightest suspicion of anythingremarkable in him. "

Paoli remained in England, an honoured guest, for thirty years. In 1789Mirabeau moved, in the National Assembly, the recall of all the Corsicanpatriots. Paoli went to Paris, where "he was received with enthusiasticveneration. The Assembly and the Royal Family contended which shouldshow him most distinction. " The king made him lieutenant-general andmilitary commandant in Corsica. "He used the powers entrusted to himwith great wisdom and moderation. " The rapid changes that swept overFrance did not leave him untouched. He was denounced in the Conventionand "was summoned to attend for the purpose of standing on his defence. He declined the journey on account of his age. " A large part of hiscountrymen stood by him, and in an assembly appointed himgeneral-in-chief, and president of the council of government. TheConvention sent an expedition to arrest him. Buonaparte happened at thetime to be in Corsica, on leave of absence from his regiment. He andPaoli had been on friendly terms, indeed they were distantly related, but Buonaparte did not hesitate for a moment which side to take. Hecommanded the French troops in an attack on his native town. Paoli'sparty proved the stronger, and Napoleon Buonaparte and his brotherLucien were banished. The Corsicans sought the aid of the English who, in the year 1794, landed, five regiments strong, in the island. Adeputation went to London to offer the Crown of Corsica to the King ofGreat Britain. The offer was accepted, but contrary to the hopes and theexpectations of the islanders, not Paoli, but Sir Gilbert Eliot was madeViceroy. The great patriot then found that he could best serve hiscountry by leaving it. For about two years Corsica remained part of theBritish Empire; but in 1796 the English were forced to abandon it. Paolireturned to England, where he passed the rest of his years. He died in1807 at the age of eighty-two. His monument is in Westminster Abbey. 

AN

ACCOUNT

OF

CORSICA, THE JOURNAL OF A TOUR

TO THAT ISLAND;

AND MEMOIRS OF

PASCAL PAOLI. 

BY JAMES BOSWELL, Esq;

ILLUSTRATED with a New and Accurate MAP OF CORSICA. 

 Non enim propter gloriam, divitias aut honores pugnamus, sed propter libertatem solummodo, quam nemo bonus nisi simul cum vita amittit. 

 Lit. Comit. Et Baron. Scotiae ad Pap. A. D. 1320. 

GLASGOW, PRINTED BY ROBERT AND ANDREW FOULIS FOREDWARD AND CHARLES DILLY IN THE POULTRY, LONDON;MDCCLXVIII. 

DEDICATION

TO

PASCAL PAOLI, GENERAL OF

THE CORSICANS. 

SIR, --Dedications are for most part the offerings of interestedservility, or the effusions of partial zeal; enumerating the virtues ofmen in whom no virtues can be found, or predicting greatness to thosewho afterwards pass their days in unambitious indolence, and die leavingno memorial of their existence, but a dedication, in which all theirmerit is confessedly future, and which time has turned into a silentreproach. 

He who has any experience of mankind, will be cautious to whom hededicates. Publickly to bestow praise on merit of which the publick isnot sensible, or to raise flattering expectations which are neverfulfilled, must sink the character of an authour, and make him appear acringing parasite, or a fond enthusiast. 

I am under no apprehensions of that nature, when I inscribe this book toPascal Paoli. Your virtues, Sir, are universally acknowledged; theydignify the pages which I venture to present to you; and it is mysingular felicity that my book is the voucher of its dedication. 

In thus addressing you, my intention is not to attempt your panegyrick. That may in some measure be collected from my imperfect labours. But Iwish to express to the world, the admiration and gratitude with whichyou have inspired me. 

This, Sir, is all the return that I can make for the many favours whichyou have deigned to confer upon me. I intreat you to receive it as atestimony of my disposition. I regret that I have neither power norinterest to enable me to render any essential service to you and to thebrave Corsicans. I can only assure you of the most fervent wishes of aprivate gentleman. I have the honour to be, with all respect andaffection, Sir, Your ever devoted

obliged humble servant

JAMES BOSWELL. 

Auchinleck, Ayrshire, 29 October, [68] 1767. 

[Footnote 68: Boswell's birthday. The preface to the third edition alsobears the date of his birthday. --ED. ]

PREFACE. 

No apology shall be made for presenting the world with An Account ofCorsica. It has been for some time expected from me; and I own that theardour of publick curiosity has both encouraged and intimidated me. Onmy return from visiting Corsica, I found people wherever I went, desirous to hear what I could tell them concerning that island and itsinhabitants. Unwilling to repeat my tale to every company, I thought itbest to promise a book which should speak for me. 

But I would not take upon me to do this till I consulted with theGeneral of the nation. I therefore informed him of my design. His answeris perhaps too flattering for me to publish: but I must beg leave togive it as the licence and sanction of this work. 

Paoli was pleased to write to me thus; "Nothing can be more generousthan your design to publish the observations which you have made uponCorsica. You have seen its natural situation, you have been able tostudy the manners of its inhabitants, and to see intimately the maximsof their government, of which you know the constitution. This peoplewith an enthusiasm of gratitude, will unite their applause with that ofundeceived Europe. "

 * * * * *

It is amazing that an island so considerable, and in which such noblethings have been doing, should be so imperfectly known. Even thesuccession of chiefs has been unperceived; and because we have read ofPaoli being at the head of the Corsicans many years back, and Paolistill appears at their head, the command has been supposed all this timein the person of the same man. Hence all our newspapers have confoundedthe gallant Pascal Paoli in the vigour of manhood, with the venerablechief his deceased father, Giacinto Paoli. Nay the same errour has foundits way into the page of the historian; for Dr. Smollet when mentioningPaoli at the siege of Furiani a few years ago, says he was then pastfourscore. 

I would in the first place return my most humble thanks to Pascal Paoli, for the various communications with which he has been pleased to favourme; and as I have related his remarkable sayings, I declare upon honour, that I have neither added nor diminished; nay so scrupulous have I been, that I would not make the smallest variation even when my friendsthought it would be an improvement. I know with how much pleasure weread what is perfectly authentick. 

Count Rivarola[69] was so good as to return me full and distinct answersto a variety of queries which I sent him with regard to many particularsconcerning Corsica. I am much indebted to him for this, andparticularly so, from the obliging manner in which he did it. 

[Footnote 69: The Sardinian Consul in Corsica. See page 142. --ED. ]

The reverend Mr. Burnaby, chaplain to the British factory at Leghorn, made a tour to Corsica in 1766, at the same time with the honourable andreverend Mr. Hervey, now bishop of Cloyne. [70] Mr. Burnaby was absentfrom Leghorn when I was there, so I had not the pleasure of beingpersonally known to him. But he with great politeness of his own accord, sent me a copy of the Journal which he made of what he observed inCorsica. I had the satisfaction to find that we agreed in every thingwhich both of us had considered. But I found in his Journal, observations on several things which I had omitted; and several thingswhich I had remarked, I found set in a clearer light. As Mr. Burnaby wasso obliging as to allow me to make what use I pleased of his Journal, Ihave freely interwoven it into my work. 

[Footnote 70: The son of Pope's Lord Hervey. He succeeded in 1779 to theEarldom of Bristol. --ED. ]

I acknowledge my obligations to my esteemed friend John Dick Esquire, his Britannick Majesty's Consul at Leghorn, to Signor Gian Quilico CasaBianca, to the learned Greek physician Signor Stefanopoli, to ColonelButtafoco, [71] and to the Abbé Rostini. These gentlemen have allcontributed their aid in erecting my little monument to liberty. 

[Footnote 71: Colonel Buttafoco was one of Rousseau's correspondents. Atthe time of the French Revolution he was elected Deputy from Corsica tothe National Assembly. He was most violently attacked by NapoleonBuonaparte in a letter dated "From my closet at Milleli, 23rd January, Year 2. " The letter thus begins:--"From Bonifacio to Cape Corso, fromAjaccio to Bastia, there is one chorus of imprecations against you. " Thewriter goes on to say, "Your countrymen, to whom you are an object ofhorror, will enlighten France as to your character. The wealth, thepensions, the fruits of your treasons, will be taken from you. .. . OLameth! O Robespierre! O Petion! O Volney! O Mirabeau! O Barnave! OBailly! O La Fayette! this is the man who dares to seat himself by yourside!"--Scott's "Life of Napoleon Buonaparte, " vol. Ix. , AppendixI. --ED. ]

I am also to thank an ingenious gentleman who has favoured me with thetranslations of Seneca's Epigrams. I made application for this favour, in the "London Chronicle;" and to the honour of literature, I found hervotaries very liberal. Several translations were sent, of which I tookthe liberty to prefer those which had the signature of Patricius, andwhich were improved by another ingenious correspondent under thesignature of Plebeius. By a subsequent application I begged thatPatricius would let me know to whom I was obliged for what I consideredas a great ornament to my book. He has complied with my request; and Ibeg leave in this publick manner, to acknowledge that I am indebted forthose translations to Thomas Day Esquire, [72] of Berkshire, a gentlemanwhose situation in life is genteel, and his fortune affluent. I must addthat although his verses have not only the fire of youth, but thematurity and correctness of age, Mr. Day is no more than nineteen. 

[Footnote 72: This is, I believe the author of "Sandford and Merton, "who was born in 1748, and was nineteen years old at the date of thededication of Boswell's work. His father had died when Day was a yearold, and had left him a fortune of £1, 200 a year. --ED. ]

Nor can I omit to express my sense of the candour and politeness withwhich Sir James Steuart received the remark which I have ventured tomake in opposition to a passage concerning the Corsicans, in his"Inquiry into the principles of Political Oeconomy. "

I have submitted my book to the revisal of several gentlemen who honourme with their regard, and I am sensible how much it is improved by theircorrections. It is therefore my duty to return thanks to the reverendMr. Wyvill rectour of Black Notely in Essex, and to my old and mostintimate friend the reverend Mr. Temple[73] rectour of Mamhead inDevonshire. I am also obliged to My Lord Monboddo for many judiciousremarks, which his thorough acquaintance with ancient learning enabledhim to make. But I am principally indebted to the indulgence andfriendly attention of My Lord Hailes, who under the name of Sir DavidDalrymple, [74] has been long known to the world as an able Antiquarian, and an elegant and humourous Essayist; to whom the world has no faultbut that he does not give them more of his own writings, when they valuethem so highly. [75]

[Footnote 73: See "Letters of James Boswell addressed to the Rev. W. J. Temple. "--Bentley, London, 1857. --ED. ]

[Footnote 74: It is the custom in Scotland to give the Judges of theCourt of Session the title of Lords by the names of their estates. ThusMr. Burnett is Lord Monboddo, and Sir David Dalrymple is Lord Hailes. ]

[Footnote 75: "Johnson this evening drank a bumper to Sir DavidDalrymple, 'as a man of worth, a scholar, and a wit. I have, ' said he, 'never heard of him, except from you; but let him know my opinion ofhim: for as he does not show himself much in the world, he should havethe praise of the few who hear of him. '"--Boswell's "Johnson. " Date ofJuly 20, 1763. --ED. ]

I would however have it understood, that although I received thecorrections of my friends with deference, I have not always agreed withthem. An authour should be glad to hear every candid remark. But I lookupon a man as unworthy to write, who has not force of mind to determinefor himself. I mention this, that the judgement of the friends I havenamed may not be considered as connected with every passage in thisbook. 

Writing a book I have found to be like building a house. A man forms aplan and collects materials. He thinks he has enough to raise a largeand stately edifice; but after he has arranged, compacted and polished, his work turns out to be a very small performance. The authour, however, like the builder, knows how much labour his work has cost him; andtherefore estimates it at a much higher rate than other people think itdeserves. 

I have endeavoured to avoid an ostentatious display of learning. By theidle and the frivolous indeed, any appearance of learning is calledpedantry. But as I do not write for such readers, I pay no regard totheir censures. Those by whom I wish to be judged, will I hope, approveof my adding dignity to Corsica, by shewing its consideration among theancients, and will not be displeased to find my page sometimesembellished with a seasonable quotation from the Classicks. Thetranslations are ascribed to their proper authours. What are not soascribed are my own. 

It may be necessary to say something in defence of my orthography. Oflate it has become the fashion to render our language more neat and trimby leaving out k after c, and u in the last syllable of words which usedto end in our. The illustrious Mr. Samuel Johnson, who has alone[76]executed in England what was the task of whole academies in othercountries, has been careful in his Dictionary to preserve the k as amark of Saxon original. He has for most part, too, been careful topreserve the u, but he has also omitted it in several words. I haveretained the k, and have taken upon me to follow a general rule withregard to words ending in our. Wherever a word originally Latin has beentransmitted to us through the medium of the French, I have written itwith the characteristical u. An attention to this may appear trivial. But I own I am one of those who are curious in the formation of languagein its various modes; and therefore wish that the affinity of Englishwith other tongues may not be forgotten. If this work should at anyfuture period be reprinted, I hope that care will be taken of myorthography. [77]

[Footnote 76: "ADAMS. --But, Sir, how can you do this in three years?JOHNSON. --Sir, I have no doubt that I can do it in three years. ADAMS. --But the French Academy, which consists of forty members, tookforty years to compile their Dictionary. JOHNSON. --Sir, thus it is. Thisis the proportion. Let me see; forty times forty is sixteen hundred. Asthree to sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an Englishman to aFrenchman. "--Boswell's "Johnson. " Date of 1748. --ED. ]

[Footnote 77: I have not dared to disregard Boswell's request. Hisorthography is retained. --ED. ]

He who publishes a book, affecting not to be an authour, and professingan indifference for literary fame, may possibly impose upon many peoplesuch an idea of his consequence as he wishes may be received. For mypart, I should be proud to be known as an authour; and I have an ardentambition for literary fame; for of all possessions I should imagineliterary fame to be the most valuable. A man who has been able tofurnish a book which has been approved by the world, has establishedhimself as a respectable character in distant society, without anydanger of having that character lessened by the observation of hisweaknesses. To preserve an uniform dignity among those who see us everyday, is hardly possible; and to aim at it must put us under the fettersof a perpetual restraint. The authour of an approved book may allow hisnatural disposition an easy play, and yet indulge the pride of superiourgenius when he considers that by those who know him only as an authour, he never ceases to be respected. Such an authour when in his hours ofgloom and discontent, may have the consolation to think that hiswritings are at that very time giving pleasure to numbers; and such anauthour may cherish the hope of being remembered after death, which hasbeen a great object to the noblest minds in all ages. [78]

[Footnote 78: "The rational pride of an author may be offended, ratherthan flattered, by vague, indiscriminate praise; but he cannot, heshould not, be indifferent to the fair testimonies of private and publicesteem. Even his moral sympathy may be gratified by the idea, that now, in the present hour, he is imparting some degree of amusement orknowledge to his friends in a distant land; that one day his mind willbe familiar to the grand-children of those who are yet unborn. "--"Memoirsof my Life and Writings, " by Edward Gibbon, vol. I. , p. 273. 

"Do thou teach me not only to foresee but to enjoy, nay even to feed onfuture praise. Comfort me by the solemn assurance, that when the littleparlour in which I sit at this moment shall be reduced to aworse-furnished box, I shall be read with honour by those who never knewnor saw me, and whom I shall neither know nor see. "--"Tom Jones, " bookxiii. , chap. I. Quoted by Gibbon, or his Editor. --ED. ]

Whether I may merit any portion of literary fame, the publick willjudge. Whatever my ambition may be, I trust that my confidence is nottoo great, nor my hopes too sanguine. 

PREFACE

TO THE THIRD EDITION. 

I now beg leave to present the world with a more correct edition of myAccount of Corsica. I return my sincere thanks to those who have takenthe trouble to point out several faults, with a spirit of candidcriticism. I hope they will not be offended that in one or two places Ihave preserved my own reading, contrary to their opinion; as I neverwould own that I am wrong, till I am convinced that it is so. Myorthography I have sufficiently explained; and although some pleasantryhas been shewn, I have not met with one argument against it. 

 * * * * *

While I have a proper sense of my obligations to those who have treatedme with candour, I do not forget that there have been others who havechosen to treat me in an illiberal manner. The resentment of some hasevidently arisen from the grateful admiration which I have expressed ofMr. Samuel Johnson. Over such, it is a triumph to me to assure them, that I never cease to think of Mr. Johnson with the same warmth ofaffection, and the same dignity of veneration. The resentment of othersit is more difficult to explain. For what should make men attack one whonever offended them, who has done his best to entertain them, and who isengaged in the most generous cause? But I am told by those who havegone before me in literature, that the attacks of such should ratherflatter me, than give me displeasure. 

To those who have imagined themselves very witty in sneering at me forbeing a Christian, I would recommend the serious study of Theology, andI hope they will attain to the same comfort that I have, in the beliefof a Revelation by which a SAVIOUR is proclamed to the world, and "lifeand immortality are clearly brought to light. "

I am now to return thanks to My Lord Lyttelton, for being so good as toallow me to enrich my book with one of his Lordship's letters to me. [79]I was indeed most anxious that it should be published; as it contains aneulogium on Pascal Paoli, equal to anything that I have found in thewritings of antiquity. Nor can I deny that I was very desirous to shewthe world that this worthy and respectable Nobleman, to whom genius, learning and virtue owe so much, can amidst all his literary honours bepleased with what I have been able to write. 

[Footnote 79: I have not thought it needful to reprint thisletter. --ED. ]

May I be permitted to say that the success of this book has exceeded mywarmest hopes. When I first ventured to send it into the world, I fairlyowned an ardent desire for literary fame. I have obtained my desire: andwhatever clouds may overcast my days, I can now walk here among therocks and woods of my ancestors, with an agreeable consciousness that Ihave done something worthy. 

AUCHINLECK, AYRSHIRE, 29 October, 1768. 

THE

JOURNAL

OF A

TOUR

TO

CORSICA;

AND

MEMOIRS

OF

PASCAL PAOLI. 

Olim meminisse juvabit. 

VIRG. 

THE

JOURNAL

OF A

TOUR TO CORSICA. 

Having resolved to pass some years[80] abroad, for my instruction andentertainment, I conceived a design of visiting the island of Corsica. Iwished for something more than just the common course of what is calledthe tour of Europe; and Corsica occurred to me as a place which no bodyelse had seen, and where I should find what was to be seen no whereelse, a people actually fighting for liberty, and forming themselvesfrom a poor inconsiderable oppressed nation, into a flourishing andindependent state. 

[Footnote 80: Boswell had left England, on August 6th, 1763, for theUniversity of Utrecht, whither his father had sent him to study civillaw. On his return to Scotland, he was to put on the gown as a member ofthe Faculty of Advocates. "Honest man!" he writes of his father to hisfriend Temple, "he is now very happy; it is amazing to think how much hehas had at heart my pursuing the road of civil life. " Boswell had oncehoped to enter the Guards. A few days later on he wrote: "My father hasallowed me £60 a quarter; that is not a great allowance, but witheconomy I may live very well upon it, for Holland is a cheap country. However I am determined not to be straightened, nor to encourage theleast narrowness of disposition as to saving money, but will draw uponmy father for any sums I find necessary. " He did not give many months tohis legal studies at Utrecht. In the following year he set out on histravels. He went through Germany and Switzerland to Italy. It was in theautumn of 1765 that he visited Corsica. He returned to England throughFrance, and arrived in London in February, 1766. ]

When I got into Switzerland, I went to see M. Rousseau. He was thenliving in romantick retirement, from whence, perhaps, it had been betterfor him never to have descended. While he was at a distance, hissingular eloquence filled our minds with high ideas of the wildphilosopher. When he came into the walks of men, we know alas! how muchthese ideas suffered. [81]

[Footnote 81: Rousseau came to England in January, 1766. He had not beenhere long before he quarrelled with Hume, who had been to him so true afriend. --ED. ]

He entertained me very courteously; for I was recommended to him by myhonoured friend the Earl Marischal, [82] with whom I had the happiness oftravelling through a part of Germany. I had heard that M. Rousseau hadsome correspondence with the Corsicans, and had been desired to assistthem in forming their laws. [83] I told him my scheme of going to visitthem, after I had compleated my tour of Italy; and I insisted that heshould give me a letter of introduction. He immediately agreed to do so, whenever I should acquaint him of my time of going thither; for he sawthat my enthusiasm for the brave islanders was as warm as his own. 

[Footnote 82: George, tenth Earl Marischal. He had taken part in theJacobite rising of 1715. Later on he held high office in the Prussianservice. In 1759 his attainder was reversed, but he continued to liveabroad. In one of his letters to Madame de Boufflers he says, inspeaking of Rousseau, "Je lui avais fait un projet; mais en le disant unchâteau en Espagne, d'aller habiter une maison toute meublée que j'ai enEcosse; d'engager le bon David Hume de vivre avec nous. "--"Hume'sPrivate Correspondence, " page 43. --ED. ]

[Footnote 83: See page 222. ]

I accordingly wrote to him from Rome, in April 1765, that I had fixedthe month of September for my Corsican expedition, and therefore beggedof him to send me the letter of introduction, which if he refused, Ishould certainly go without it, and probably be hanged as a spy. So lethim answer for the consequences. 

The wild philosopher was a man of his word; and on my arrival atFlorence in August I received the following letter. 

"A MONSIEUR, MONSIEUR BOSWELL, &c. 

"A MOTIERS le 30 May, 1765. 

"La crise orageuse ou je me trouve, Monsieur, depuis votre depart d'ici, m'a oté le tems de repondre à votre premiére lettre, et me laisse àpeine celui de repondre en peu de mots à la seconde. Pour m'en tenir àce qui presse pour le moment, savoir la recommendation que vous desirezen Corse; puisque vous avez le desir de visiter ces braves insulaires, vous pourrez vous informer à Bastia, de M. Buttafoco capitaine auRegiment Royal Italien; il a sa maison à Vescovado, ou il se tient assezsouvent. C'est un très galant homme, qui a des connoissances et del'esprit; il suffira de lui montrer cette lettre, et je suis sur qu'ilvous recevra bien, et contribuera à vous faire voir l'isle et seshabitans avec satisfaction. Si vous ne trouvez pas M. Buttafoco, et quevous vouliez aller tout droit à M. Pascal de Paoli general de la nation, vous pouvez egalement lui montrer cette lettre, et je suis sur, connoissant la noblesse de son caractére, que vous serez très-content deson accueil: vous pourrez lui dire même que vous étes aimé de MylordMareschal d'Ecosse, et que Mylord Mareschal est un des plus zeléspartizans de la nation Corse. Au reste vouz n'avez besoin d'autrerecommendation près de ces Messieurs que votre propre mérite, la nationCorse etant naturellement si accueillante et si hospitaliére, que tousles etrangers y sont bien venus et caressés. 

 * * * * *

"Bons et heureux voyages, santé, gaieté et promt retour. Je vousembrasse, Monsieur, de tout mon coeur. "

"J. J. ROUSSEAU. "

"TO MR. BOSWELL, &c. 

"MOTIERS, the 30 May 1765. 

"The stormy crisis in which I have found myself since your departurefrom this, has not allowed me any leisure to answer your first letter, and hardly allows me leisure to reply in a few words to your second. Toconfine myself to what is immediately pressing, the recommendation whichyou ask for Corsica; since you have a desire to visit those braveislanders, you may enquire at Bastia for M. Buttafoco, captain of theRoyal Italian Regiment; his house is at Vescovado, where he residespretty often. He is a very worthy man, and has both knowledge andgenius; it will be sufficient to shew him this letter, and I am sure hewill receive you well, and will contribute to let you see the island andits inhabitants with satisfaction. If you do not find M. Buttafoco, andwill go directly to M. Pascal Paoli General of the nation, you may inthe same manner shew him this letter, and as I know the nobleness of hischaracter, I am sure you will be very well pleased at your reception. You may even tell him that you are liked by My Lord Marischal ofScotland, and that My Lord Marischal is one of the most zealouspartisans of the Corsican nation. You need no other recommendation tothese gentlemen but your own merit, the Corsicans being naturally socourteous and hospitable, that all strangers who come among them, aremade welcome and caressed. 

 * * * * *

"I wish you agreeable and fortunate travels, health, gaiety, and aspeedy return. I embrace you Sir with all my heart

"JOHN JAMES ROUSSEAU. "

Furnished with these credentials, I was impatient to be with theillustrious Chief. The charms of sweet Siena detained me longer thanthey should have done. I required the hardy air of Corsica to brace me, after the delights of Tuscany. 

I recollect with astonishment how little the real state of Corsica wasknown, even by those who had good access to know it. An officer of rankin the British navy, who had been in several ports of the island, toldme that I run the risque of my life in going among these barbarians;for, that his surgeon's mate went ashore to take the diversion ofshooting, and every moment was alarmed by some of the natives, whostarted from the bushes with loaded guns, and if he had not beenprotected by Corsican guides, would have certainly blown out his brains. 

Nay at Leghorn, which is within a day's sailing of Corsica, and has aconstant intercourse with it, I found people who dissuaded me from goingthither, because it might be dangerous. 

I was however under no apprehension in going to Corsica. Count Rivarolathe Sardinian consul, who is himself a Corsican, assuring me that theisland was then in a very civilized state; and besides, that in therudest times no Corsican would ever attack a stranger. The Count was sogood as to give me most obliging letters to many people in the island. Ihad now been in several foreign countries. I had found that I was ableto accommodate myself to my fellow-creatures of different languages andsentiments. I did not fear that it would be a difficult task for me tomake myself easy with the plain and generous Corsicans. 

The only danger I saw was, that I might be taken by some of the BarbaryCorsairs, and have a tryal of slavery among the Turks at Algiers. [84] Ispoke of it to Commodore Harrison, who commanded the British squadron inthe Mediterranean, and was then lying with his ship the Centurion in thebay of Leghorn. He assured me, that if the Turks did take me, theyshould not keep me long; but in order to prevent it, he was so good asto grant me a very ample and particular passport; and as it could be ofno use if I did not meet the Corsairs, he said very pleasantly when hegave it me, "I hope, Sir, it shall be of no use to you. "

[Footnote 84: In the "Gentleman's Magazine" for 1750 (vol. Xx. , p. 42), we read, "The Phoenix, Captain Carberry, of Bristol, was taken onChristmas eve by an Algerine corsair off the rock of Lisbon, on pretencethat his pass was not good, and ordered for Algiers with an officer andsix other Turks; but in the passage Captain Carberry with three Englishsailors and a boy recovered the vessel, after flinging the Turkishofficer and two other Turks overboard, and brought it with the Turkishsailors prisoners to Bristol. " In the same year the English consul atAlgiers wrote to say that some Algerine Corsairs had taken five Englishvessels because their passes were not good. The consul had complained tothe Dey, "who said that he would give such orders that nothing of thissort should happen again, and then swore by his prophet that if any onecontroverted those orders he would take his head. " The Dey had alsoseized a packet-boat of the British Crown. Commodore Keppel was sent todemand restitution. The Dey replied, "We are disposed to give fullsatisfaction to the King and the British nation for anything that mayhappen amiss hereafter; but as to what is past, if they have had anycause to complain, they must think no more of it, and bury it inoblivion. " The packet-boat, he maintained, had not a proper Algerinepass, and therefore had been lawfully seized. By a treaty made with theDey in the following year, the Commodore "settled all differences bywaiving the restitution of the money and effects taken from on board thepacket-boat on condition that his Majesty's packet-boats shall never beobliged to carry Algerine passports, " &c. Whatever protection theEnglish vessels may have had the Turkish corsairs continued to plunderthe ships of most other nations. In the "Gentleman's Magazine" for 1785, (vol. Lv. , p. 830) we read, "The Algerines still continue their piraciesin the Mediterranean. They even extend their captures to the AtlanticOcean, and have struck the American traders with terror. "--ED. ]

Before I left Leghorn, I could observe, that my tour was looked upon bythe Italian politicians in a very serious light, as if truly I had acommission from my Court, to negociate a treaty with the Corsicans. Themore I disclaimed any such thing, the more they persevered in affirmingit; and I was considered as a very close young man. I therefore justallowed them to make a minister of me, till time should undeceivethem. [85]

[Footnote 85: Compare Scribe's Comedy of "_Le Diplomate_. "--ED. ]

I sailed from Leghorn in a Tuscan vessel, which was going over to CapoCorso for wine. I preferred this to a vessel going to Bastia, because, as I did not know how the French general was affected towards theCorsicans, I was afraid that he might not permit me to go forward toPaoli. I therefore resolved to land on the territories of the nation, and after I had been with the illustrious Chief, to pay my respects tothe French if I should find it safe. 

Though from Leghorn to Corsica is usually but one day's sailing, therewas so dead a calm that it took us two days. The first day was the mosttedious. However there were two or three Corsicans aboard, and one ofthem played on the Citra, which amused me a good deal. At sun-set allthe people in the ship sung the Ave Maria, with great devotion and somemelody. It was pleasing to enter into the spirit of their religion, andhear them offering up their evening orisons. 

The second day we became better acquainted, and more lively andchearful. The worthy Corsicans thought it was proper to give a morallesson to a young traveller just come from Italy. They told me that intheir country I should be treated with the greatest hospitality; but ifI attempted to debauch any of their women, I might lay my account withinstant death. 

I employed myself several hours in rowing, which gave me great spirits. I relished fully my approach to the island, which had acquired anunusual grandeur in my imagination. As long as I can remember any thing, I have heard of "The malecontents of Corsica, with Paoli at their head. "It was a curious thought that I was just going to see them. 

About seven o'clock at night, we landed safely in the harbour ofCenturi. I learnt that Signor Giaccomini of this place, to whom I wasrecommended by Count Rivarola, was just dead. He had made a handsomefortune in the East Indies; and having had a remarkable warmth in thecause of liberty during his whole life, he shewed it in the strongestmanner in his last will. He bequeathed a considerable sum of money, andsome pieces of ordinance, to the nation. He also left it in charge tohis heir, to live in Corsica, and be firm in the patriotick interest;and if ever the island should again be reduced under the power of theGenoese, he ordered him to retire with all his effects to Leghorn. Uponthese conditions only could his heir enjoy his estate. 

I was directed to the house of Signor Giaccomini's cousin, SignorAntonio Antonetti at Morsiglia, about a mile up the country. Theprospect of the mountains covered with vines and olives, was extremelyagreeable; and the odour of the myrtle and other aromatick shrubs andflowers that grew all around me, was very refreshing. As I walked along, I often saw Corsican peasants come suddenly out from the covert; and asthey were all armed, I saw how the frightened imagination of thesurgeon's mate had raised up so many assassins. Even the man who carriedmy baggage was armed, and had I been timorous might have alarmed me. Buthe and I were very good company to each other. As it grew dusky, Irepeated to myself these lines from a fine passage in Ariosto. 

 "E pur per selve oscure e calli obliqui Insieme van senza, sospetto aversi. "

 ARIOST. Canto I. 

 "Together through dark woods and winding ways They walk, nor on their hearts suspicion preys. "

I delivered Signor Antonetti the letter for his deceased cousin. He readit, and received me with unaffected cordiality, making an apology for myfrugal entertainment, but assuring me of a hearty welcome. His truekindly hospitality was also shewn in taking care of my servant, anhonest Swiss, who loved to eat and drink well. [86]

[Footnote 86: Like master, like man. --ED. ]

I had formed a strange notion that I should see every thing in Corsicatotally different from what I had seen in any other country. [87] I wastherefore much surprised to find Signor Antonetti's house quite anItalian one, with very good furniture, prints, and copies of some of thefamous pictures. In particular, I was struck to find here a small copyfrom Raphael, of St. Michael and the Dragon. There was no necessity forits being well done. To see the thing at all was what surprised me. 

[Footnote 87: See Appendix B for a curious custom described byBoswell. --ED. ]

Signor Antonetti gave me an excellent light repast, and a very good bed. He spoke with great strength of the patriotick cause, and with greatveneration of the General. I was quite easy, and liked much the openingof my Corsican tour. 

The next day, being Sunday, it rained very hard; and I must observe thatthe Corsicans with all their resolution, are afraid of bad weather, to adegree of effeminacy. I got indeed a drole but a just enough account ofthis, from one of them. "Sir, " said he, "if you were as poor as aCorsican, and had but one coat, so as that after being wet, you couldnot put on dry cloaths, you would be afraid too. "[88] Signor Antonettiwould not allow me to set out while it rained, for, said he, "Quando sitrova fuori, patienza; ma di andare fuori è cattivo. If a man findshimself abroad, there is no help for it. But to go deliberately out, istoo much. "

[Footnote 88: A friend of mine, driving last September from Tunis toUtica, was overtaken by a storm of rain. The driver at once got downfrom the box and seated himself on the ground under the carriage. By wayof excuse he said that he had but one coat. --ED. ]

When the day grew a little better, I accompanied Signor Antonetti andhis family, to hear mass in the parish church, a very pretty littlebuilding, about half a quarter of a mile off. 

Signor Antonetti's parish priest was to preach to us, at which I wasmuch pleased, being very curious to hear a Corsican sermon. 

Our priest did very well. His text was in the Psalms. "Descendunt adinfernum viventes. They go down alive into the pit. "

After endeavouring to move our passions with a description of thehorrours of hell, he told us "Saint Catherine of Siena wished to be laidon the mouth of this dreadful pit, that she might stop it up, so as nomore unhappy souls should fall into it. I confess, my brethren, I havenot the zeal of holy Saint Catherine. But I do what I can; I warn youhow to avoid it. " He then gave us some good practical advices andconcluded. 

The weather being now cleared up, I took leave of the worthy gentlemanto whom I had been a guest. He gave me a letter to Signor Damiano TomasiPadre del Commune at Pino, the next village. I got a man with an ass tocarry my baggage. But such a road I never saw. It was absolutelyscrambling along the face of a rock overhanging the sea, upon a pathsometimes not above a foot broad. I thought the ass rather retarded me;so I prevailed with the man to take my portmanteau and other things onhis back. 

Had I formed my opinion of Corsica from what I saw this morning, I mighthave been in as bad humour with it, as Seneca was, whose reflections inprose are not inferiour to his epigrams. "Quid tam nudum inveniripotest, quid tam abruptum undique quam hoc saxum? quid ad copiasrespicienti jejunius? quid ad homines immansuetius? quid ad ipsum locisitum horridius? Plures tamen hîc peregrini quam cives consistunt? usqueeò ergo commutatio ipsa locorum gravis non est, ut hic quoque locus apatria quosdam abduxerit. [89] What can be found so bare, what so ruggedall around as this rock? what more barren of provisions? what more rudeas to its inhabitants? what in the very situation of the place morehorrible? what in climate more intemperate? yet there are moreforeigners than natives here. So far then is a change of place frombeing disagreeable, that even this place hath brought some people awayfrom their country. "

[Footnote 89: Seneca de Consolatione. ]

At Pino I was surprised to find myself met by some brisk young fellowsdrest like English sailors, and speaking English tolerably well. Theyhad been often with cargoes of wine at Leghorn, where they had picked upwhat they knew of our language, and taken clothes in part of payment forsome of their merchandise. 

I was cordially entertained at Signor Tomasi's. Throughout all Corsica, except in garrison towns, there is hardly an inn. I met with a singleone, about eight miles from Corte. Before I was accustomed to theCorsican hospitality, I sometimes forgot myself, and imagining I was ina publick house, called for what I wanted, with the tone which one usesin calling to the waiters at a tavern. I did so at Pino, asking for avariety of things at once; when Signora Tomasi, perceiving my mistake, looked in my face and smiled, saying with much calmness and good-nature, "Una cosa dopo un altra, Signore. One thing after another, Sir. "

In writing this Journal, I shall not tire my readers with relating theoccurrences of each particular day. It will be much more agreeable tothem, to have a free and continued account of what I saw or heard, mostworthy of observation. 

For some time, I had very curious travelling, mostly on foot, andattended by a couple of stout women, who carried my baggage upon theirheads. Every time that I prepared to set out from a village, I could nothelp laughing, to see the good people eager to have my equipage inorder, and roaring out, "Le Donne, Le Donne. The Women, The Women. "

I had full leisure and the best opportunities to observe every thing, inmy progress through the island. I was lodged sometimes in privatehouses, sometimes in convents, being always well recommended from placeto place. The first convent in which I lay, was at Canari. It appeared alittle odd at first. But I soon learnt to repair to my dormitory asnaturally as if I had been a friar for seven years. 

The convents were small decent buildings, suited to the sober ideas oftheir pious inhabitants. The religious who devoutly endeavour to "walkwith GOD, " are often treated with raillery by those whom pleasure orbusiness prevents from thinking of future and more exalted objects. Alittle experience of the serenity and peace of mind to be found inconvents, would be of use to temper the fire of men of the world. 

At Patrimonio I found the seat of a provincial magistracy. The chiefjudge was there, and entertained me very well. Upon my arrival, thecaptain of the guard came out, and demanded who I was? I replied"Inglese English. " He looked at me seriously, and then said in a tonebetween regret and upbraiding, "Inglese, c'erano i nostri amici; ma nonle sono più. The English. They were once our friends; but they are so nomore. " I felt for my country, and was abashed before this honestsoldier. 

At Oletta I visited Count Nicholas Rivarola, brother to my friend atLeghorn. He received me with great kindness, and did every thing in hispower to make me easy. I found here a Corsican who thought better of theBritish than the captain of the guard at Patrimonio. He talked of ourbombarding San Fiorenzo, [90] in favour of the patriots, and willinglygave me his horse for the afternoon, which he said he would not havedone to a man of any other nation. 

[Footnote 90: In 1745. See Introduction. Page 110. --ED. ]

When I came to Morato, I had the pleasure of being made acquainted withSignor Barbaggi, who is married to the niece of Paoli. I found him to bea sensible, intelligent, well-bred man. The mint of Corsica was in hishouse. I got specimens of their different kinds of money in silver andcopper, and was told that they hoped in a year or two, to strike somegold coins. Signor Barbaggi's house was repairing, so I was lodged inthe convent. But in the morning returned to breakfast, and hadchocolate; and at dinner we had no less than twelve well-drest dishes, served on Dresden china, with a desert, different sorts of wine and aliqueur, all the produce of Corsica. Signor Barbaggi was frequentlyrepeating to me, that the Corsicans inhabited a rude uncultivatedcountry, and that they lived like Spartans. I begged leave to ask him inwhat country he could show me greater luxury than I had seen in hishouse; and I said I should certainly tell wherever I went, what tablesthe Corsicans kept, notwithstanding their pretensions to poverty andtemperance. A good deal of pleasantry passed upon this. His lady was agenteel woman, and appeared to be agreeable, though very reserved. 

From Morato to Corte, I travelled through a wild mountainous rockycountry, diversified with some large valleys. I got little beasts for meand my servant, sometimes horses, but oftener mules or asses. We had nobridles, but cords fixed round their necks, with which we managed themas well as we could. 

At Corte I waited upon the supreme council, to one of whom, SignorBoccociampe, I had a letter from Signor Barbaggi. I was very politelyreceived, and was conducted to the Franciscan convent, where I got theapartment of Paoli, who was then some days' journey beyond themountains, holding a court of syndicato[91] at a village calledSollacarò. 

[Footnote 91: "The Syndicatori make a tour through the differentprovinces, as our judges in Britain go the circuits. They hearcomplaints against the different magistrates. "--Boswell's "Account ofCorsica, " p. 153. --ED. ]

As the General resided for some time in this convent, the fathers made abetter appearance than any I saw in the island. I was principallyattended by the Priour, a resolute divine, who had formerly been in thearmy, and by Padre Giulio, a man of much address, who still favours mewith his correspondence. 

These fathers have a good vineyard and an excellent garden. They havebetween 30 and 40 bee-hives in long wooden cases or trunks of trees, with a covering of the bark of the cork tree. When they want honey, theyburn a little juniper wood, the smoak of which makes the bees retire. They then take an iron instrument with a sharp-edged crook at one end ofit, and bring out the greatest part of the honey-comb, leaving only alittle for the bees, who work the case full again. By taking the honeyin this way, they never kill a bee. They seemed much at their ease, living in peace and plenty. I often joked them with the text which isapplied to their order, "Nihil habentes et omnia possidentes. Havingnothing, and yet possessing all things. "

I went to the choir with them. The service was conducted with propriety, and Padre Giulio played on the organ. On the great altar of their churchis a tabernacle carved in wood by a Religious. It is a piece ofexquisite workmanship. A Genoese gentleman offered to give them one insilver for it; but they would not make the exchange. 

These fathers have no library worth mentioning; but their convent islarge and well built. I looked about with great attention, to see if Icould find any inscriptions; but the only one I found was upon acertain useful edifice. 

 "Sine necessitate huc non intrate, Quia necessaria sumus. "

A studied, rhiming, Latin conceit marked upon such a place was trulyludicrous. 

I chose to stop a while at Corte, to repose myself after my fatigues, and to see every thing about the capital of Corsica. 

The morning after my arrival here, three French deserters desired tospeak with me. The foolish fellows had taken it into their heads, that Iwas come to raise recruits for Scotland, and so they begged to have thehonour of going along with me; I suppose with intention to have thehonour of running off from me, as they had done from their ownregiments. 

I received many civilities at Corte from Signor Boccociampe, and fromSignor Massesi the Great Chancellor, whose son Signor Luigi a younggentleman of much vivacity, and natural politeness, was so good as toattend me constantly as my conductour. I used to call him my governour. I liked him much, for as he had never been out of the island, his ideaswere entirely Corsican. 

Such of the members of the supreme council as were in residence duringmy stay at Corte, I found to be solid and sagacious, men of penetrationand ability, well calculated to assist the General in forming hispolitical plans, and in turning to the best advantage, the violence andenterprise of the people. 

The university was not then sitting, so I could only see the rooms, which were shewn me by the Abbé Valentini, procuratour of theuniversity. The professours were all absent except one Capuchin fatherwhom I visited at his convent. It is a tolerable building, with a prettylarge collection of books. There is in the church here a tabernaclecarved in wood, in the manner of that at the Franciscans', but muchinferiour to it. 

I went up to the castle of Corte. The commandant very civilly shewed meevery part of it. As I wished to see all things in Corsica, I desired tosee even the unhappy criminals. [92] There were then three in the castle, a man for the murder of his wife, a married lady who had hired one ofher servants to strangle a woman of whom she was jealous, and theservant who had actually perpetrated this barbarous action. They werebrought out from their cells, that I might talk with them. The murdererof his wife had a stupid hardened appearance, and told me he did it atthe instigation of the devil. The servant was a poor despicable wretch. He had at first accused his mistress, but was afterwards prevailed withto deny his accusation, upon which he was put to the torture, [93] byhaving lighted matches held between his fingers. This made him return towhat he had formerly said, so as to be a strong evidence against hismistress. His hands were so miserably scorched, that he was a piteousobject. I asked him why he had committed such a crime, he said, "Percheera senza spirito. Because I was without understanding. " The lady seemedof a bold and resolute spirit. She spoke to me with great firmness, anddenied her guilt, saying with a contemptuous smile, as she pointed toher servant, "They can force that creature to say what they please. "

[Footnote 92: Boswell was too fond of seeing criminals and hangmen. Hewas frequently present at executions. In his "Life of Johnson" herecords, under date of June 23rd, 1784, "I visited Johnson in themorning, after having been present at the shocking sight of fifteen menexecuted before Newgate. " He once persuaded Sir Joshua Reynolds toaccompany him, and they recognised among the sufferers a former servantof Mrs. Thrale's. He describes Mr. Akerman, the Keeper of Newgate, ashis esteemed friend. According to Mr. Croker, he defended his taste in apaper he wrote for the "London Magazine, " "as a natural and irresistibleimpulse. "--ED. ]

[Footnote 93: So far as I have been able to ascertain, this passage, this great blot on Paoli and the Corsican patriots, excited no attentionin England. But the Inquisition was still at its hateful work in manycountries, and men's minds were used to cruelties. Torture was stillemployed in capital cases to force confession even in Holland andFrance. --ED. ]

The hangman of Corsica was a great curiosity. Being held in the utmostdetestation, he durst not live like another inhabitant of the island. Hewas obliged to take refuge in the castle, and there he was kept in alittle corner turret, where he had just room for a miserable bed, and alittle bit of fire to dress such victuals for himself as were sufficientto keep him alive, for nobody would have any intercourse with him, butall turned their backs upon him. I went up and looked at him. And a moredirty rueful spectacle I never beheld. He seemed sensible of hissituation, and held down his head like an abhorred outcast. 

It was a long time before they could get a hangman in Corsica, so thatthe punishment of the gallows was hardly known, all their criminalsbeing shot. [94] At last this creature whom I saw, who is a Sicilian, came with a message to Paoli. The General who has a wonderful talent forphysiognomy, on seeing the man, said immediately to some of the peopleabout him, "Ecco il boia. Behold our hangman. " He gave orders to ask theman if he would accept of the office, and his answer was, "Mygrandfather was a hangman, my father was a hangman. I have been ahangman myself, and am willing to continue so. " He was thereforeimmediately put into office, and the ignominious death dispensed by hishands, had more effect than twenty executions by fire arms. 

[Footnote 94: "Their dignities, and a' that, " are, it seems, to be foundeven among executioners. The man who shoots scorns the man who hangs. Itwould be an interesting inquiry how the headsman ranks. --ED. ]

It is remarkable that no Corsican would upon any account consent to behangman. Not the greatest criminals, who might have had their lives uponthat condition. Even the wretch, who for a paultry hire, had strangled awoman, would rather submit to death, than do the same action, as theexecutioner of the law. [95]

[Footnote 95: See, however, page 201. --ED. ]

When I had seen every thing about Corte, I prepared for my journey overthe mountains, that I might be with Paoli. The night before I set out, Irecollected that I had forgotten to get a passport, which, in thepresent situation of Corsica, is still a necessary precaution. Aftersupper therefore the Priour walked with me to Corte, to the house of theGreat Chancellor, who ordered the passport to be made out immediately, and while his secretary was writing it, entertained me by reading to mesome of the minutes of the general consulta. When the passport wasfinished, and ready to have the seal put to it, I was much pleased witha beautiful, simple incident. The Chancellor desired a little boy whowas playing in the room by us, to run to his mother, and bring the greatseal of the kingdom. I thought myself sitting in the house of aCincinnatus. 

Next morning I set out in very good order, having excellent mules, andactive clever Corsican guides. The worthy fathers of the convent whotreated me in the kindest manner while I was their guest, would alsogive me some provisions for my journey; so they put up a gourd of theirbest wine, and some delicious pomegranates. My Corsican guides appearedso hearty, that I often got down and walked along with them, doing justwhat I saw them do. When we grew hungry, we threw stones among the thickbranches of the chestnut trees which over-shadowed us, and in thatmanner we brought down a shower of chestnuts with which we filled ourpockets, and went on eating them with great relish; and when this madeus thirsty, we lay down by the side of the first brook, put our mouthsto the stream, and drank sufficiently. It was just being for a littlewhile, one of the "prisca gens mortalium, the primitive race of men, "who ran about in the woods eating acorns and drinking water. 

While I stopped to refresh my mules at a little village, the inhabitantscame crouding about me as an ambassadour going to their General. Whenthey were informed of my country, a strong black fellow among themsaid, "Inglese! sono barbari; non credono in Dio grande. English! theyare barbarians; they don't believe in the great GOD. " I told him, "Excuse me Sir. We do believe in GOD, and in Jesus Christ too. " "Um, "said he, "e nel Papa? and in the Pope?" "No. " "E perche? And why?" Thiswas a puzzling question in these circumstances; for there was a greataudience to the controversy. I thought I would try a method of my own, and very gravely replied, "Perche siamo troppo lontani. Because we aretoo far off. "[96] A very new argument against the universalinfallibility of the Pope. It took however; for my opponent mused awhile, and then said, "Troppo lontano! La Sicilia è tanto lontana chel'Inghilterra; e in Sicilia si credono nel Papa. Too far off! Why Sicilyis as far off as England. Yet in Sicily they believe in the Pope. " "O, "said I "noi siamo dieci volte più lontani che la Sicilia! We are tentimes farther off than Sicily. " "Aha!" said he; and seemed quitesatisfied. In this manner I got off very well. I question much whetherany of the learned reasonings of our protestant divines would have hadso good an effect. 

[Footnote 96: According to Macaulay ("Essays, " vol. I. , p. 378), "witwas utterly wanting to Boswell. "--ED. ]

My journey over the mountains was very entertaining. I past some immenseridges and vast woods. I was in great health and spirits, and fully ableto enter into the ideas of the brave rude men whom I found in allquarters. 

At Bastelica where there is a stately spirited race of people, I had alarge company to attend me in the convent. I liked to see their naturalfrankness and ease;[97] for why should men be afraid of their ownspecies? They just came in making an easy bow, placed themselves roundthe room where I was sitting, rested themselves on their muskets, andimmediately entered into conversation with me. They talked veryfeelingly of the miseries that their country had endured, and complainedthat they were still but in a state of poverty. I happened at that timeto have an unusual flow of spirits; and as one who finds himself amongstutter strangers in a distant country has no timidity, I harangued themen of Bastelica with great fluency. I expatiated on the bravery of theCorsicans, by which they had purchased liberty, the most valuable of allpossessions, and rendered themselves glorious over all Europe. Theirpoverty, I told them, might be remedied by a proper cultivation of theirisland, and by engaging a little in commerce. But I bid them remember, that they were much happier in their present state than in a state ofrefinement and vice, and that therefore they should beware ofluxury. [98]

[Footnote 97: "For my part I like very well to hear honest Goldsmithtalk away carelessly. " Boswell, as reported by himself. "Life ofJohnson. " Date of April 11, 1772. --ED. ]

[Footnote 98: "I give admirable dinners, and good claret; and the momentI go abroad again, I set up my chariot. "--Boswell, in a letter toTemple, May 14, 1768. --ED. ]

What I said had the good fortune to touch them, and several of themrepeated the same sentiments much better than I could do. They allexpressed their strong attachment to Paoli, and called out in one voicethat they were all at his command. I could with pleasure have passed along time here. 

At Ornano I saw the ruins of the seat where the great Sampiero[99] hadhis residence. They were a droll enough society of monks in the conventat Ornano. When I told them that I was an Englishman, "Aye, aye, " saidone of them, "as was well observed by a reverend bishop, when talking ofyour pretended reformation, 'Angli olim angeli nunc diaboli. TheEnglish, formerly angels now devils. '" I looked upon this as an honesteffusion of spiritual zeal. The Fathers took good care of me intemporals. 

[Footnote 99: Sampiero had been the leader of a revolt which broke outin 1564. He was assassinated three years later. --ED. ]

When I at last came within sight of Sollacarò, where Paoli was, I couldnot help being under considerable anxiety. My ideas of him had beengreatly heightened by the conversations I had held with all sorts ofpeople in the island, they having represented him to me as somethingabove humanity. I had the strongest desire to see so exalted acharacter; but I feared that I should be unable to give a proper accountwhy I had presumed to trouble him with a visit, and that I should sinkto nothing before him. I almost wished yet to go back without seeinghim. [100] These workings of sensibility employed my mind till I rodethrough the village and came up to the house where he was lodged. 

[Footnote 100: Compare Boswell's introduction to Johnson. --ED. ]

Leaving my servant with my guides, I past through the guards, and wasmet by some of the General's people, who conducted me into anantichamber, where were several gentlemen in waiting. Signor Boccociampehad notified my arrival, and I was shewn into Paoli's room. I found himalone, and was struck with his appearance. He is tall, strong, and wellmade; of a fair complexion, a sensible, free, and open countenance, anda manly and noble carriage. He was then in his fortieth year. He wasdrest in green and gold. He used to wear the common Corsican habit, buton the arrival of the French he thought a little external elegance mightbe of use to make the government appear in a more respectable light. 

He asked me what were my commands for him. I presented him a letter fromCount Rivarola, and when he had read it, I shewed him my letter fromRousseau. He was polite, but very reserved. I had stood in the presenceof many a prince, but I never had such a trial as in the presence ofPaoli. I have already said that he is a great physiognomist. Inconsequence of his being in continual danger from treachery andassassination, he has formed a habit of studiously observing every newface. For ten minutes we walked backwards and forwards through the room, hardly saying a word, while he looked at me, with a steadfast, keen andpenetrating eye, as if he searched my very soul. 

This interview was for a while very severe upon me. I was much relievedwhen his reserve wore off, and he began to speak more. I then venturedto address him with this compliment to the Corsicans. "Sir, I am upon mytravels, and have lately visited Rome. I am come from seeing the ruinsof one brave and free people; I now see the rise of another. "

He received my compliment very graciously; but observed that theCorsicans had no chance of being like the Romans, a great conqueringnation, who should extend its empire over half the globe. Theirsituation, and the modern political systems, rendered this impossible. "But, " said he, "Corsica may be a very happy country. "

He expressed a high admiration of M. Rousseau, whom Signor Buttafoco hadinvited to Corsica, to aid the nation in forming its laws. 

It seems M. De Voltaire had reported, in his rallying manner, that theinvitation was merely a trick which he had put upon Rousseau. Paoli toldme that when he understood this, he himself wrote to Rousseau, enforcingthe invitation. Of this affair I shall give a full account in an afterpart of my Journal. [101]

[Footnote 101: See page 222. --ED. ]

Some of the nobles who attended him came into the room, and in a littlewe were told that dinner was served up. The General did me the honour toplace me next him. He had a table of fifteen or sixteen covers, havingalways a good many of the principal men of the island with him. He hadan Italian cook who had been long in France; but he chose to have a fewplain substantial dishes, avoiding every kind of luxury, and drinking noforeign wine. 

I felt myself under some constraint in such a circle of heroes. TheGeneral talked a great deal on history and on literature. I soonperceived that he was a fine classical scholar, that his mind wasenriched with a variety of knowledge, and that his conversation at mealswas instructive and entertaining. Before dinner he had spoken French. Henow spoke Italian, in which he is very eloquent. 

We retired to another room to drink coffee. My timidity wore off. I nolonger anxiously thought of myself; my whole attention was employed inlistening to the illustrious commander of a nation. 

He recommended me to the care of the Abbé Rostini, who had lived manyyears in France. Signor Colonna, the lord of the manor here being fromhome, his house was assigned for me to live in. I was left by myselftill near supper time, when I returned to the General, whoseconversation improved upon me, as did the society of those about him, with whom I gradually formed an acquaintance. 

Every day I felt myself happier. Particular marks of attention wereshewn me as a subject of Great Britain, the report of which went over toItaly, and confirmed the conjectures that I was really an envoy. In themorning I had my chocolate served up upon a silver salver adorned withthe arms of Corsica. I dined and supped constantly with the General. Iwas visited by all the nobility, and whenever I chose to make a littletour, I was attended by a party of guards. I begged of the General notto treat me with so much ceremony; but he insisted upon it. 

One day when I rode out I was mounted on Paoli's own horse, with richfurniture of crimson velvet, with broad gold lace, and had my guardsmarching along with me. [102] I allowed myself to indulge a momentarypride in this parade, as I was curious to experience what could reallybe the pleasure of state and distinction with which mankind are sostrangely intoxicated. 

[Footnote 102: "Then took Haman the apparel and the horse, and arrayedMordecai, and brought him on horseback through the street of the city, and proclaimed before him, 'Thus shall it be done unto the man whom theking delighteth to honour. '"--Book of Esther, c. Vi. , v. 11. --ED. ]

When I returned to the continent after all this greatness, I used tojoke with my acquaintance, and tell them that I could not bear to livewith them, for they did not treat me with a proper respect. 

My time passed here in the most agreeable manner. I enjoyed a sort ofluxury of noble sentiment. Paoli became more affable with me. I mademyself known to him. [103] I forgot the great distance between us, andhad every day some hours of private conversation with him. 

[Footnote 103: "Finding him (Johnson) in a placid humour, and wishing toavail myself of the opportunity which I fortunately had of consulting asage, to hear whose wisdom, I conceived, in the ardour of youthfulimagination, that men filled with a noble enthusiasm for intellectualimprovement would gladly have resorted from distant lands, I opened mymind to him ingenuously, and gave him a little sketch of my life, towhich he was pleased to listen with great attention. "--Boswell's"Johnson. " Date of June 13, 1763. --ED. ]

From my first setting out on this tour, I wrote down every night what Ihad observed during the day, throwing together a great deal, that Imight afterwards make a selection at leisure. 

Of these particulars, the most valuable to my readers, as well as tomyself, must surely be the memoirs and remarkable sayings of Paoli, which I am proud to record. 

Talking of the Corsican war, "Sir, " said he, "if the event prove happy, we shall be called great defenders of liberty. If the event shall proveunhappy, we shall be called unfortunate rebels. "

The French objected to him that the Corsican nation had no regulartroops. "We would not have them, " said Paoli. "We should then have thebravery of this and the other regiment. At present every single man isas a regiment himself. Should the Corsicans be formed into regulartroops, we should lose that personal bravery which has produced suchactions among us, as in another country would have rendered famous evena Marischal. "[104]

[Footnote 104: See page 140. --ED. ]

I asked him how he could possibly have a soul so superiour to interest. "It is not superiour, " said he; "my interest is to gain a name. I knowwell that he who does good to his country will gain that: and I expectit. Yet could I render this people happy, I would be content to beforgotten. I have an unspeakable pride. 'Una superbia indicibile. ' Theapprobation of my own heart is enough. "

He said he would have great pleasure in seeing the world, and enjoyingthe society of the learned, and the accomplished in every country. Iasked him how with these dispositions he could bear to be confined to anisland yet in a rude uncivilised state; and instead of participatingAttick evenings, "noctes coenaeque Deûm, " be in a continual course ofcare and of danger. He replied in one line of Virgil, "Vincet amor patriae laudumque immensa cupido. "

This uttered with the fine open Italian pronunciation, and the gracefuldignity of his manner, was very noble. I wished to have a statue of himtaken at that moment. 

I asked him if he understood English. He immediately began and spoke it, which he did tolerably well. When at Naples he had known several Irishgentlemen who were officers in that service. Having a great facility inacquiring languages, he learnt English from them. But as he had been nowten years without ever speaking it, he spoke very slow. One could seethat he was possessed of the words, but for want of what I may callmechanical practice, he had a difficulty in expressing himself. 

I was diverted with his English library. It consisted of--

 Some broken volumes of the "Spectatour" and "Tatler. "

 Pope's "Essay on Man. "

 "Gulliver's Travels. "

 A "History of France, " in old English. And "Barclay's Apology for the Quakers. "

I promised to send him some English books. [105]

[Footnote 105: I have sent him the works of Harrington, of Sidney, ofAddison, of Trenchard, of Gordon, and of other writers in favour ofliberty. I have also sent him some of our best books of morality andentertainment, in particular the works of Mr. Samuel Johnson, with acompleat set of the "Spectatour, " "Tatler, " and "Guardian;" and to theUniversity of Corte, I have sent a few of the Greek and Roman Classicks, of the beautiful editions of the Messieurs Foulis at Glasgow. [A]]

[Footnote A: The fate of one of these books was curious. Dr. Moore (theauthor of "Edward, " and the father of Sir John Moore) visited Bernesomewhere about the year 1772 (he gives no dates). He went to examinethe public library of that town. "I happened, " he says, "to open theGlasgow edition of Homer, which I saw here; on a blank page of which wasan address in Latin to the Corsican General, Paoli, signed JamesBoswell. This very elegant book had been sent, I suppose, as a presentfrom Mr. Boswell to his friend, the General; and, when that unfortunatechief was obliged to abandon his country, fell, with other of hiseffects, into the hands of the Swiss officer in the French service, whomade a present of the Homer to this library. "--"A View of Society andManners in France, " &c. , by John Moore, M. D. , vol. I. , p. 307. --ED. ]

He convinced me how well he understood our language; for I took theliberty to shew him a Memorial which I had drawn up on the advantages toGreat Britain from an alliance with Corsica, and he translated thismemorial into Italian with the greatest facility. He has since given memore proofs of his knowledge of our tongue by his answers to the letterswhich I have had the honour to write to him in English, and inparticular by a very judicious and ingenious criticism on some ofSwift's works. 

He was well acquainted with the history of Britain. He had read many ofthe parliamentary debates, and had even seen a number of the "NorthBriton. "[106] He shewed a considerable knowledge of this country, andoften introduced anecdotes and drew comparisons and allusions fromBritain. 

[Footnote 106: John Wilkes began the publication of the "North Briton"in June, 1762. --ED. ]

He said his great object was to form the Corsicans in such a manner thatthey might have a firm constitution, and might be able to subsistwithout him. "Our state, " said he, "is young, and still requires theleading strings. I am desirous that the Corsicans should be taught towalk of themselves. Therefore when they come to me to ask whom theyshould chuse for their Padre del Commune, or other Magistrate, I tellthem, 'You know better than I do the able and honest men among yourneighbours. Consider the consequence of your choice, not only toyourselves in particular, but to the island in general. ' In this mannerI accustom them to feel their own importance as members of the state. "

After representing the severe and melancholy state of oppression underwhich Corsica had so long groaned, he said, "We are now to our countrylike the prophet Elishah stretched over the dead child of the Shunamite, eye to eye, nose to nose, mouth to mouth. It begins to recover warmth, and to revive. I hope it shall yet regain full health and vigour. "

I said that things would make a rapid progress, and that we should soonsee all the arts and sciences flourish in Corsica. "Patience, Sir, " saidhe. "If you saw a man who had fought a hard battle, who was muchwounded, who was beaten to the ground, and who with difficulty couldlift himself up, it would not be reasonable to ask him to get his hairwell drest, and to put on embroidered clothes. Corsica has fought a hardbattle, has been much wounded, has been beaten to the ground, and withdifficulty can lift herself up. The arts and sciences are like dress andornament. You cannot expect them from us for some time. But come backtwenty or thirty years hence, and we'll shew you arts and sciences, andconcerts and assemblies, and fine ladies, and we'll make you fall inlove among us, Sir. "

He smiled a good deal, when I told him that I was much surprised to findhim so amiable, accomplished, and polite; for although I knew I was tosee a great man, I expected to find a rude character, an Attila king ofthe Goths, or a Luitprand[107], king of the Lombards. 

[Footnote 107: Liutprand. See Gibbon's "Decline and Fall, " chap. Xlix. --ED. ]

I observed that although he had often a placid smile upon hiscountenance, he hardly ever laughed. Whether loud laughter in generalsociety be a sign of weakness or rusticity, I cannot say; but I haveremarked that real great men, and men of finished behaviour, seldom fallinto it. 

The variety, and I may say versatility, of the mind of this great man isamazing. One day when I came in to pay my respects to him before dinner, I found him in much agitation, with a circle of his nobles around him, and a Corsican standing before him like a criminal before his judge. Paoli immediately turned to me, "I am glad you are come, Sir. Youprotestants talk much against our doctrine of transubstantiation. Beholdhere the miracle of transubstantiation, a Corsican transubstantiatedinto a Genoese. That unworthy man who now stands before me is aCorsican, who has been long a lieutenant under the Genoese, in CapoCorso. Andrew Doria and all their greatest heroes could not be moreviolent for the republick than he has been, and all against hiscountry. " Then turning to the man, "Sir, " said he, "Corsica makes it arule to pardon the most unworthy of her children, when they surrenderthemselves, even when they are forced to do so, as is your case. Youhave now escaped. But take care. I shall have a strict eye upon you; andif ever you make the least attempt to return to your traiterouspractices, you know I can be avenged of you. " He spoke this with thefierceness of a lion, and from the awful darkness of his brow, one couldsee that his thoughts of vengeance were terrible. Yet when it was over, he all at once resumed his usual appearance, called out "andiamo, comealong;" went to dinner, and was as chearful and gay as if nothing hadhappened. 

His notions of morality are high and refined, such as become the Fatherof a nation. Were he a libertine, his influence would soon vanish; formen will never trust the important concerns of society to one they knowwill do what is hurtful to society for his own pleasures. He told methat his father had brought him up with great strictness, and that hehad very seldom deviated from the paths of virtue. That this was notfrom a defect of feeling and passion, but that his mind being filledwith important objects, his passions were employed in more noblepursuits than those of licentious pleasure. I saw from Paoli's examplethe great art of preserving young men of spirit from the contagion ofvice, in which there is often a species of sentiment, ingenuity andenterprise nearly allied to virtuous qualities. 

Shew a young man that there is more real spirit in virtue than in vice, and you have a surer hold of him, during his years of impetuosity andpassion, than by convincing his judgement of all the rectitude ofethicks. 

One day at dinner, he gave us the principal arguments for the being andattributes of GOD. To hear these arguments repeated with graceful energyby the illustrious Paoli in the midst of his heroick nobles, wasadmirable. I never felt my mind more elevated. 

I took occasion to mention the king of Prussia's infidel writings, andin particular his epistle to Marischal Keith. [108] Paoli, who oftentalks with admiration of the greatness of that monarch, instead ofuttering any direct censure of what he saw to be wrong in sodistinguished a hero, paused a little, and then said with a grave andmost expressive look, "C'est une belle consolation pour un vieux generalmourant, 'En peu de tems vous ne serez plus. ' It is fine consolation foran old general when dying, 'In a little while you shall be no more. '"

[Footnote 108: The younger brother of the Earl Marischal (see p. 140). He took part in the rebellion of 1715, although he was but seventeenyears old. He next served for ten years in the Irish Brigade in theSpanish army. He then entered the Russian service, and fought againstthe Turks. He was sent to England as Russian ambassador. When he came toCourt he was required to speak by an interpreter when he had an audienceof the king, and to appear in Russian dress. He next entered thePrussian service as Field-Marshal. He was killed in the battle ofHochkirchen, in 1758. --ED. ]

He observed that the Epicurean philosophy had produced but one exaltedcharacter, whereas Stoicism had been the seminary of great men. What henow said put me in mind of these noble lines of Lucan. 

 Hi mores, haec duri immota Catonis Secta fuit, servare modum finemque tenere, Naturamque sequi, patriaeque impendere vitam, Nec sibi sed toti genitum se credere mundo. 

 LUCAN. Pharsal. Lib. Ii. L. 380. 

 These were the stricter manners of the man, And this the stubborn course in which they ran; The golden mean unchanging to pursue, Constant to keep the purpos'd end in view; Religiously to follow nature's laws, And die with pleasure in his country's cause. To think he was not for himself design'd, But born to be of use to all mankind. 

 --ROWE. 

When he was asked if he would quit the island of which he had undertakenthe protection, supposing a foreign power should create him a Marischal, and make him governour of a province; he replied, "I hope they willbelieve I am more honest, or more ambitious; for, " said he, "to acceptof the highest offices under a foreign power would be to serve. "

"To have been a colonel, a general or a marischal, " said he, "would havebeen sufficient for my table, for my taste in dress, for the beauty whommy rank would have entitled me to attend. But it would not have beensufficient for this spirit, for this imagination. " Putting his handupon his bosom. 

He reasoned one day in the midst of his nobles whether the commander ofa nation should be married or not. "If he is married, " said he, "thereis a risk that he may be distracted by private affairs, and swayed toomuch by a concern for his family. If he is unmarried, there is a riskthat not having the tender attachments of a wife and children, he maysacrifice all to his own ambition. " When I said he ought to marry andhave a son to succeed him, "Sir, " said he, "what security can I havethat my son will think and act as I do? What sort of a son had Cicero, and what had Marcus Aurelius?"

He said to me one day when we were alone, "I never will marry. I havenot the conjugal virtues. Nothing would tempt me to marry, but a womanwho should bring me an immense dowry, with which I might assist mycountry. "

But he spoke much in praise of marriage, as an institution which theexperience of ages had found to be the best calculated for the happinessof individuals, and for the good of society. Had he been a privategentleman, he probably would have married, and I am sure would have madeas good a husband and father as he does a supreme magistrate and ageneral. But his arduous and critical situation would not allow him toenjoy domestick felicity. He is wedded to his country, and the Corsicansare his children. 

He often talked to me of marriage, told me licentious pleasures weredelusive and transient, that I should never be truly happy till I wasmarried, and that he hoped to have a letter from me soon after my returnhome, acquainting him that I had followed his advice, and was convincedfrom experience that he was in the right. With such an engagingcondescension did this great man behave to me. If I could but paint hismanner, all my readers would be charmed with him. 

He has a mind fitted for philosophical speculations as well as foraffairs of state. One evening at supper, he entertained us for some timewith some curious reveries and conjectures as to the nature of theintelligence of beasts, with regard to which, he observed humanknowledge was as yet very imperfect. He in particular seemed fond ofinquiring into the language of the brute creation. He observed thatbeasts fully communicate their ideas to each other, and that some ofthem, such as dogs, can form several articulate sounds. In differentages there have been people who pretended to understand the language ofbirds and beasts. Perhaps, said Paoli, in a thousand years we may knowthis as well as we know things which appeared much more difficult to beknown. I have often since this conversation indulged myself in suchreveries. If it were not liable to ridicule, I would say that anacquaintance with the language of beasts would be a most agreeableacquisition to man, as it would enlarge the circle of his socialintercourse. 

On my return to Britain I was disappointed to find nothing upon thissubject in Doctour Gregory's[109] Comparative View of the State andFaculties of Man with those of the Animal World, which was then justpublished. My disappointment however was in a good measure made up by apicture of society, drawn by that ingenious and worthy authour, whichmay be well applied to the Corsicans. "There is a certain period in theprogress of society in which mankind appear to the greatest advantage. In this period, they have the bodily powers, and all the animalfunctions remaining in full vigour. They are bold, active, steady, ardent in the love of liberty and their native country. Their mannersare simple, their social affections warm, and though they are greatlyinfluenced by the ties of blood, yet they are generous and hospitable tostrangers. Religion is universally regarded among them, though disguisedby a variety of superstitions. "[110]

[Footnote 109: John Gregory, M. D. , born 1724, Professor of the Practiceof Physic in Edinburgh. "It is stated that no less than sixteen membersof this family have held British Professorships, chiefly in the ScotchUniversities. "--Chalmers' "Biog. Dict. , " p. 289. --ED. ]

[Footnote 110: Preface to "Comparative View, " p. 8. ]

Paoli was very desirous that I should study the character of theCorsicans. "Go among them, " said he, "the more you talk with them, youwill do me the greater pleasure. Forget the meanness of their apparel. Hear their sentiments. You will find honour, and sense, and abilitiesamong these poor men. "

His heart grew big when he spoke of his countrymen. His own greatqualities appeared to unusual advantage, while he described the virtuesof those for whose happiness his whole life was employed. "If, " said he, "I should lead into the field an army of Corsicans against an armydouble their number, let me speak a few words to the Corsicans, toremind them of the honour of their country and of their braveforefathers, I do not say that they would conquer, but I am sure thatnot a man of them would give way. The Corsicans, " said he, "have asteady resolution that would amaze you. I wish you could see one of themdie. It is a proverb among the Genoese, 'I Corsi meritano la furca e lasanno soffrire. The Corsicans deserve the gallows, and they fear not tomeet it. ' There is a real compliment to us in this saying. "

He told me, that in Corsica, "criminals are put to death four and twentyhours after sentence is pronounced against them. This, " said he, "maynot be over catholick, but it is humane. "

He went on, and gave me several instances of the Corsican spirit. 

"A sergeant, " said he, "who fell in one of our desperate actions, whenjust a dying, wrote to me thus. 'I salute you. Take care of my agedfather. In two hours I shall be with the rest who have bravely died fortheir country. '"

A Corsican gentleman who had been taken prisoner by the Genoese, wasthrown into a dark dungeon, where he was chained to the ground. While hewas in this dismal situation, the Genoese sent a message to him, that ifhe would accept of a commission in their service, he might have it. "No, " said he. "Were I to accept of your offer, it would be with adetermined purpose to take the first opportunity of returning to theservice of my country. But I will not accept of it. For I would not havemy countrymen even suspect that I could be one moment unfaithful. " Andhe remained in his dungeon. Paoli went on: "I defy Rome, Sparta orThebes to shew me thirty years of such patriotism as Corsica can boast. Though the affection between relations is exceedingly strong in theCorsicans, they will give up their nearest relations for the good oftheir country, and sacrifice such as have deserted to the Genoese. "

He gave me a noble instance of a Corsican's feeling and greatness ofmind. "A criminal, " said he, "was condemned to die. His nephew came tome with a lady of distinction, that she might solicit his pardon. Thenephew's anxiety made him think that the lady did not speak withsufficient force and earnestness. He therefore advanced, and addressedhimself to me, 'Sir, is it proper for me to speak?' as if he felt thatit was unlawful to make such an application. I bid him go on. 'Sir, 'said he, with the deepest concern, 'may I beg the life of my uncle? Ifit is granted, his relations will make a gift to the state of a thousandzechins. We will furnish fifty soldiers in pay during the siege ofFuriani. We will agree that my uncle shall be banished, and will engagethat he shall never return to the island. ' I knew the nephew to be a manof worth, and I answered him: 'You are acquainted with the circumstancesof this case. Such is my confidence in you, that if you will say thatgiving your uncle a pardon would be just, useful or honourable forCorsica, I promise you it shall be granted. ' He turned about, burst intotears, and left me, saying, 'Non vorrei vendere l'onore della patria permille zechini. I would not have the honour of our country sold for athousand zechins. ' And his uncle suffered. "

Although the General was one of the constituent members of the court ofsyndicato, [111] he seldom took his chair. He remained in his ownapartment; and if any of those whose suits were determined by thesyndicato were not pleased with the sentence, they had an audience ofPaoli, who never failed to convince them that justice had been donethem. This appeared to me a necessary indulgence in the infancy ofgovernment. The Corsicans having been so long in a state of anarchy, could not all at once submit their minds to the regular authority ofjustice. They would submit implicitly to Paoli, because they love andvenerate him. But such a submission is in reality being governed bytheir passions. They submit to one for whom they have a personal regard. They cannot be said to be perfectly civilized till they submit to thedeterminations of their magistrates as officers of the state, entrustedwith the administration of justice. By convincing them that themagistrates judge with abilities and uprightness, Paoli accustoms theCorsicans to have that salutary confidence in their rulers, which isnecessary for securing respect and stability to the government. 

[Footnote 111: See page 154. --ED. ]

After having said much in praise of the Corsicans, "Come, " said he, "youshall have a proof of what I tell you. There is a crowd in the nextroom, waiting for admittance to me. I will call in the first I see, andyou shall hear him. " He who chanced to present himself, was a venerableold man. The General shook him by the hand, and bid him good day, withan easy kindness that gave the aged peasant full encouragement to talkto his Excellency with freedom. Paoli bid him not mind me, but say on. The old man then told him that there had been an unlucky tumult in thevillage where he lived, and that two of his sons were killed. Thatlooking upon this as a heavy misfortune, but without malice on the partof those who deprived him of his sons, he was willing to have allowed itto pass without enquiry. But his wife anxious for revenge, had made anapplication to have them apprehended and punished. That he gave hisExcellency this trouble to intreat that the greatest care might betaken, lest in the heat of enmity among his neighbours, any body shouldbe punished as guilty of the blood of his sons, who was really innocentof it. There was something so generous in this sentiment, while at thesame time the old man seemed full of grief for the loss of his children, that it touched my heart in the most sensible manner. Paoli looked at mewith complacency and a kind of amiable triumph on the behaviour of theold man, who had a flow of words and a vivacity of gesture which fullyjustified what Petrus Cyrnaeus[112] hath said of the Corsicaneloquence; "Diceres omnes esse bonos causidicos. You would say they areall good pleaders. "

[Footnote 112: See Preface, page viii. --ED. ]

I found Paoli had reason to wish that I should talk much with hiscountrymen, as it gave me a higher opinion both of him and of them. Thuanus[113] has justly said, "Sunt mobilia Corsorum ingenia. Thedispositions of the Corsicans are changeable. " Yet after ten years, their attachment to Paoli is as strong as at the first. Nay, they havean enthusiastick admiration of him. "Questo grand' uomo mandato per Dioa liberare la patria. This great man whom God hath sent to free ourcountry, " was the manner in which they expressed themselves to meconcerning him. 

[Footnote 113: Jacques-Auguste de Thou (or, as he called himself inLatin, Jacobus Augustus Thuanus), born in Paris 1553. Author of"Historia sui Temporis, " in 138 books. --ED. ]

Those who attended on Paoli were all men of sense and abilities in theirdifferent departments. Some of them had been in foreign service. One ofthem, Signor Suzzoni, had been long in Germany. He spoke German to me, and recalled to my mind, the happy days which I have past among thatplain, honest, brave people, who of all nations in the world, receivestrangers with the greatest cordiality. [114] Signor Gian Quilico CasaBianca, of the most ancient Corsican nobility, was much my friend. Heinstructed me fully with regard to the Corsican government. He had eventhe patience to sit by me while I wrote down an account of it, whichfrom conversations with Paoli, I afterwards enlarged and improved. Ireceived many civilities from the Abbé Rostini, a man of literature, anddistinguished no less for the excellency of his heart. His saying ofPaoli deserves to be remembered. "Nous ne craignons pas que notreGeneral nous trompe ni qu'il se laisse tromper. We are not afraid thatour General will deceive us, nor that he will let himself be deceived. "

[Footnote 114: They must have wonderfully improved since the days ofErasmus. "Advenientem nemo salutat, ne videantur ambire hospitem. .. . Ubidiu inclamaveris, tandem aliquis per fenestellam æstuarii (nam in hisdegunt fere usque ad solstitium æstivum) profert caput, non aliter quame testa prospicit testudo. Is rogandus est an liceat illic diversari. Sinon renuit, intelligis dari locum, " &c. --"Erasmi Colloquia. Diversoria. "--ED. ]

I also received civilities from Father Guelfucci of the order ofServites, [115] a man whose talents and virtues, united with a singulardecency and sweetness of manners, have raised him to the honourablestation of secretary to the General. Indeed all the gentlemen herebehaved to me in the most obliging manner. We walked, rode, and wenta-shooting together. 

[Footnote 115: Servites, or Servants of the Blessed Virgin, a religiousorder, first instituted in Tuscany in 1233. --ED. ]

The peasants and soldiers were all frank, open, lively and bold, with acertain roughness of manner which agrees well with their character, andis far from being displeasing. The General gave me an admirable instanceof their plain and natural solid good sense. A young French Marquis, very rich and very vain, came over to Corsica. He had a sovereigncontempt for the barbarous inhabitants, and strutted[116] about (andavaa passo misurato) with prodigious airs of consequence. The Corsicansbeheld him with a smile of ridicule, and said, "Let him alone, he isyoung. "

[Footnote 116:

 "You see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that. "

 --Burns. --ED. ]

The Corsican peasants and soldiers are very fond of baiting cattle withthe large mountain dogs. This keeps up a ferocity among them whichtotally extinguishes fear. I have seen a Corsican in the very heat of abaiting, run in, drive off the dogs, seize the half-frantick animal bythe horns, and lead it away. The common people did not seem much givento diversions. I observed some of them in the great hall of the house ofColonna where I was lodged, amusing themselves with playing at a sort ofdraughts in a very curious manner. They drew upon the floor with chalk, a sufficient number of squares, chalking one all over, and leaving oneopen, alternately; and instead of black men and white, they had bits ofstone and bits of wood. It was an admirable burlesque on gaming. 

The chief satisfaction of these islanders when not engaged in war or inhunting, seemed to be that of lying at their ease in the open air, recounting tales of the bravery of their countrymen, and singing songsin honour of the Corsicans, and against the Genoese. Even in the nightthey will continue this pastime in the open air, unless rain forces themto retire into their houses. 

The ambasciadore Inglese, The English ambassadour, as the good peasantsand soldiers used to call me, became a great favourite among them. I gota Corsican dress made, in which I walked about with an air of truesatisfaction. The General did me the honour to present me with his ownpistols, made in the island, all of Corsican wood and iron, and ofexcellent workmanship. I had every other accoutrement. I even got one ofthe shells which had often sounded the alarm to liberty. I preserve themall with great care. 

The Corsican peasants and soldiers were quite free and easy with me. Numbers of them used to come and see me of a morning, and just go outand in as they pleased. [117] I did every thing in my power to make themfond of the British, and bid them hope for an alliance with us. Theyasked me a thousand questions about my country, all which I chearfullyanswered as well as I could. 

[Footnote 117: One is reminded of Gulliver in Lilliput. "I took allpossible methods to cultivate this favourable disposition. The nativescame, by degrees, to be less apprehensive of any danger from me. I wouldsometimes lie down, and let five or six of them dance on my hand. "--ED. ]

One day they would needs hear me play upon my German flute. To have toldmy honest natural visitants, Really gentlemen I play very ill, and puton such airs as we do in our genteel companies, would have been highlyridiculous. I therefore immediately complied with their request. I gavethem one or two Italian airs, and then some of our beautiful old Scotstunes, Gilderoy, the Lass of Patie's Mill, Corn riggs are Bonny. Thepathetick simplicity and pastoral gaiety of the Scots musick, willalways please those who have the genuine feelings of nature. TheCorsicans were charmed with the specimens I gave them, though I may nowsay that they were very indifferently performed. 

My good friends insisted also to have an English song from me. Iendeavoured to please them in this too, and was very lucky in that whichoccurred to me. I sung them "Hearts of oak are our ships, Hearts of oakare our men. "[118] I translated it into Italian for them, and never didI see men so delighted with a song as the Corsicans were with Hearts ofoak. "Cuore di querco, " cried they, "bravo Inglese. " It was quite ajoyous riot. I fancied myself to be a recruiting sea-officer. I fanciedall my chorus of Corsicans aboard the British fleet. 

[Footnote 118: A song written by Garrick. --ED. ]

Paoli talked very highly on preserving the independency of Corsica. "Wemay, " said he, "have foreign powers for our friends; but they must be'Amici fuori di casa. Friends at arm's length. ' We may make an alliance, but we will not submit ourselves to the dominion of the greatest nationin Europe. This people who have done so much for liberty, would be hewnin pieces man by man, rather than allow Corsica to be sunk into theterritories of another country. Some years ago, when a false rumour wasspread that I had a design to yield up Corsica to the Emperour, aCorsican came to me, and addressed me in great agitation. 'What! shallthe blood of so many heroes, who have sacrificed their lives for thefreedom of Corsica, serve only to tinge the purple of a foreignprince!'"

I mentioned to him the scheme of an alliance between Great Britain andCorsica. Paoli with politeness and dignity waved the subject, by saying, "The less assistance we have from allies, the greater our glory. " Heseemed hurt by our treatment of his country. He mentioned the severeproclamation at the last peace, in which the brave islanders were calledthe Rebels of Corsica. He said with a conscious pride and properfeeling, "Rebels! I did not expect that from Great Britain. "

He however showed his great respect for the British nation, and I couldsee he wished much to be in friendship with us. When I asked him what Icould possibly do in return for all his goodness to me. He replied, "Solamente disingannate il suo corte. Only undeceive your court. Tellthem what you have seen here. They will be curious to ask you. A mancome from Corsica will be like a man come from the Antipodes. "

I expressed such hopes as a man of sensibility would in my situationnaturally form. He saw at least one Briton devoted to his cause. I threwout many flattering ideas of future political events, imaged the Britishand the Corsicans strictly united both in commerce and in war, anddescribed the blunt kindness and admiration with which the hearty, generous common people of England would treat the brave Corsicans. 

I insensibly got the better of his reserve upon this head. My flow ofgay ideas relaxed his severity, and brightened up his humour. "Do youremember, " said he, "the little people in Asia who were in danger ofbeing oppressed by the great king of Assyria, [119] till they addressedthemselves to the Romans. And the Romans, with the noble spirit of agreat and free nation, stood forth, and would not suffer the great kingto destroy the little people, but made an alliance with them?"

[Footnote 119: When Paoli makes the Romans have dealings with the greatking of Assyria, we may well say, as Mrs. Shandy said of Socrates, "Hehad been dead a hundred years ago. "--ED. ]

He made no observations upon this beautiful piece of history. It waseasy to see his allusion to his own nation and ours. 

When the General related this piece of history to me, I was negligentenough not to ask him what little people he meant. As the story made astrong impression upon me, upon my return to Britain I searched avariety of books to try if I could find it, but in vain. I thereforetook the liberty in one of my letters to Paoli, to beg he would let meknow it. He told me the little people was the Jews, that the story wasrelated by several ancient authours, but that I would find it told withmost precision and energy in the eighth chapter of the first book of theMaccabees. 

The first book of the Maccabees, though not received into the Protestantcanon, is allowed by all the learned to be an authentick history. I haveread Paoli's favourite story with much satisfaction, and, as in severalcircumstances, it very well applies to Great Britain and Corsica, istold with great eloquence, and furnishes a fine model for an alliance, Ishall make no apology for transcribing the most interesting verses. 

"Now Judas had heard of the fame of the Romans, that they were mightyand valiant men, and such as would lovingly accept all that joinedthemselves unto them, and make a league of amity with all that came untothem. 

"And that they were men of great valour. It was told him also of theirwars and noble acts which they had done amongst the Galatians, and howthey had conquered them, and brought them under tribute. 

"And what they had done in the country of Spain, for the winning of themines of the silver and gold which are there. 

"And that by their policy and patience they had conquered all the place, though it were very far from them. 

"It was told him besides, how they destroyed and brought under theirdominion, all other kingdoms and isles that at any time resisted them. 

"But with their friends, and such as relied upon them, they kept amity:and that they had conquered kingdoms both far and near, insomuch as allthat heard of their name were afraid of them:

"Also, that whom they would help to a kingdom, those reign; and whomagain they would, they displace: finally, that they were greatlyexalted:

"Moreover, how they had made for themselves a senate-house, whereinthree hundred and twenty men sat in council dayly, consulting alway forthe people, to the end that they might be well ordered. 

"In consideration of these things Judas chose Eupolemus the son of Johnthe son of Accos, and Jason the son of Eleazar, and sent them to Rome, to make a league of amity and confederacy with them, "And to entreat them that they would take the yoke from them, for theysaw that the kingdom of the Grecians did oppress Israel with servitude. 

"They went therefore to Rome, which was a very great journey, and cameinto the senate, where they spake, and said, "Judas Maccabeus, with his brethren, and the people of the Jews, havesent us unto you, to make a confederacy and peace with you, and that wemight be registered your confederates and friends. 

"So that matter pleased the Romans well. 

"And this is the copy of the epistle which the senate wrote back again, in tables of brass, and sent to Jerusalem, that there they might have bythem a memorial of peace and confederacy. 

"Good success be to the Romans, and to the people of the Jews, by seaand by land for ever. The sword also, and enemy be far from them. 

"If there come first any war upon the Romans, or any of theirconfederates, throughout all their dominions. 

"The people of the Jews shall help them, as the time shall be appointed, with all their heart. 

"Neither shall they give any thing unto them that make war upon them, oraid them with victuals, weapons, money or ships, as it hath seemed goodunto the Romans, but they shall keep their covenant, without takinganything therefore. 

"In the same manner also, if war come first upon the nation of the Jews, the Romans shall help them with all their heart, according as the timeshall be appointed them. 

"Neither shall victuals be given to them that take part against them, orweapons, or money, or ships, as it hath seemed good to the Romans; butthey shall keep their covenants, and that without deceit. 

"According to these articles did the Romans make a covenant with thepeople of the Jews. 

"Howbeit, if hereafter the one party or the other, shall think meet toadd or diminish any thing they may do it at their pleasures, andwhatsoever they shall add or take away, shall be ratified. 

"And, as touching the evils that Demetrius doth to the Jews, we havewritten unto him, saying, Wherefore hast thou made thy yoke heavy uponour friends and confederates the Jews?

"If therefore they complain any more against thee, we will do themjustice, and fight with thee by sea and by land. "

I will venture to ask whether the Romans appear, in any one instance oftheir history, more truly great than they do here. 

Paoli said, "If a man would preserve the generous glow of patriotism, hemust not reason too much. Mareschal Saxe reasoned; and carried the armsof France into the heart of Germany, his own country. [120] I act fromsentiment, not from reasonings. "

[Footnote 120:

 "Ce fier Saxon, qu'on croit né parmi nous. "

 --Voltaire, "Poëme de Fontenoi. "--ED. ]

"Virtuous sentiments and habits, " said he, "are beyond philosophicalreasonings, which are not so strong, and are continually varying. If allthe professours in Europe were formed into one society, it would nodoubt be a society very respectable, and we should there be entertainedwith the best moral lessons. Yet I believe I should find more realvirtue in a society of good peasants in some little village in theheart of your island. It might be said of these two societies, as wassaid of Demosthenes and Themistocles, 'Illius dicta, hujus facta magisvalebant. The one was powerful in words, but the other in deeds. '"

This kind of conversation led me to tell him how much I had sufferedfrom anxious speculations. With a mind naturally inclined to melancholy, and a keen desire of inquiry, I had intensely applied myself tometaphysical researches, and reasoned beyond my depth, on such subjectsas it is not given to man to know. I told him I had rendered my mind acamera obscura, that in the very heat of youth I felt the "non esttanti, " the "omnia vanitas" of one who has exhausted all the sweets ofhis being, and is weary with dull repetition. I told him that I hadalmost become for ever incapable of taking a part in active life. 

"All this, " said Paoli, "is melancholy. I have also studiedmetaphysicks. I know the arguments for fate and free-will, for themateriality and immateriality of the soul, and even the subtilearguments for and against the existence of matter. 'Ma lasciamo questedispute ai oziosi. But let us leave these disputes to the idle. Io tengosempre fermo un gran pensiero. I hold always firm one great object. Inever feel a moment of despondency. '"[121]

[Footnote 121: "Do not hope wholly to reason away your troubles; do notfeed them with attention, and they will die imperceptibly away. Fix yourthoughts upon your business, fill your intervals with company, andsunshine will again break in upon your mind. "--Johnson to Boswell, March5, 1776. --ED. ]

The contemplation of such a character really existing, was of moreservice to me than all I had been able to draw from books, fromconversation, or from the exertions of my own mind. I had often enoughformed the idea of a man continually such as I could conceive in my bestmoments. But this idea appeared like the ideas we are taught in theschools to form of things which may exist, but do not; of seas of milk, and ships of amber. But I saw my highest idea realised in Paoli. It wasimpossible for me, speculate as I pleased, to have a little opinion ofhuman nature in him. 

One morning I remember, I came in upon him without ceremony, while hewas dressing. I was glad to have an opportunity of seeing him in thoseteasing moments, when according to the Duke de Rochefoucault, no man isa hero to his valet de chambre. The lively nobleman who has a maliciouspleasure in endeavouring to divest human nature of its dignity, byexhibiting partial views, and exaggerating faults, would have owned thatPaoli was every moment of his life a hero. 

Paoli told me that from his earliest years, he had in view the importantstation which he now holds; so that his sentiments must ever have beengreat. I asked him how one of such elevated thoughts could submit withany degree of patience, to the unmeaning ceremonies and poor discourseof genteel society, which he certainly was obliged to do while anofficer at Naples. "O, " said he, "I managed it very easily. Eroconnosciuto per una testa singolare, I was known to be a singular man. Italked and joked, and was merry; but I never sat down to play; I wentand came as I pleased. The mirth I like is what is easy and unaffected. Je ne puis souffrir long temps les diseurs de bons mots. I cannot endurelong the sayers of good things. "

How much superiour is this great man's idea of agreeable conversation tothat of professed wits, who are continually straining for smart remarks, and lively repartees. They put themselves to much pain in order toplease, and yet please less than if they would just appear as theynaturally feel themselves. A company of professed wits has alwaysappeared to me, like a company of artificers employed in some very niceand difficult work, which they are under a necessity of performing. 

Though calm and fully master of himself, Paoli is animated with anextraordinary degree of vivacity. Except when indisposed or greatlyfatigued, he never sits down but at meals. He is perpetually in motion, walking briskly backwards and forwards. Mr. Samuel Johnson, whosecomprehensive and vigorous understanding, has by long observation, attained to a perfect knowledge of human nature, when treating ofbiography has this reflection. "There are many invisible circumstanceswhich, whether we read as enquiries after natural or moral knowledge;whether we intend to enlarge our science, or increase our virtue, aremore important than publick occurrences. Thus Sallust the great masterof nature, has not forgotten in his account of Catiline, to remark, that'his walk was now quick, and again slow, ' as an indication of a mindrevolving something with violent commotion. "[122] Ever mindful of thewisdom of the "Rambler, " I have accustomed myself to mark the smallpeculiarities of character. Paoli's being perpetually in motion, nay hisbeing so agitated that, as the same Sallust also says of Catiline, "Neque vigiliis, neque quietibus sedari poterat. He could not be quietedeither by watching or by repose, " are indications of his being as activeand indefatigable as Catiline, but from a very different cause. Theconspiratour from schemes of ruin and destruction to Rome; the patriotfrom schemes of liberty and felicity to Corsica. 

[Footnote 122: "Rambler, " number 60. ]

Paoli told me that the vivacity of his mind was such, that he could notstudy above ten minutes at a time. "La testa mi rompa. My head is liketo break, " said he. "I can never write my lively ideas with my own hand. In writing, they escape from my mind. I call the Abbé Guelfucci, Allonspresto, pigliate li pensieri. Come quickly, take my thoughts; and hewrites them. "

Paoli has a memory like that of Themistocles; for I was assured that heknows the names of almost all the people in the island, theircharacters, and their connections. His memory as a man of learning, isno less uncommon. He has the best part of the classicks by heart, and hehas a happy talent in applying them with propriety, which is rarely tobe found. This talent is not always to be reckoned pedantry. Theinstances in which Paoli is shewn to display it, are a proof to thecontrary. 

I have heard Paoli recount the revolutions of one of the ancient states, with an energy and a rapidity which shewed him to be master of thesubject, to be perfectly acquainted with every spring and movement ofthe various events. I have heard him give what the French call, "Unecatalogue raisonnée" of the most distinguished men in antiquity. Hischaracters of them were concise, nervous and just. I regret that thefire with which he spoke upon such occasions, so dazzled me that I couldnot recollect his sayings so as to write them down when I retired fromhis presence. [123]

[Footnote 123: "I recollect with admiration an animating blaze ofeloquence, which roused every intellectual power in me to the highestpitch, but must have dazzled me so much, that my memory could notpreserve the substance of his discourse. "--Boswell's "Johnson. " Date ofJuly 30, 1763. --ED. ]

He just lives in the times of antiquity. He said to me, "A young man whowould form his mind to glory, must not read modern memoirs; màPlutarcho, mà Tito Livio; but Plutarch and Titus Livius. "

I have seen him fall into a sort of reverie, and break out into salliesof the grandest and noblest enthusiasm. I recollect two instances ofthis. "What a thought? that thousands owe their happiness to you!" Andthrowing himself into an attitude, as if he saw the lofty mountain offame before him. "THERE is my object (pointing to the summit); if Ifall, I fall at least THERE (pointing a good way up) magnis tamenexcidit ausis. "

I ventured to reason like a libertine, that I might be confirmed invirtuous principles by so illustrious a preceptour. [124] I made light ofmoral feelings. I argued that conscience was vague and uncertain; thatthere was hardly any vice but what men might be found who have beenguilty of it without remorse. "But, " said he, "there is no man who hasnot a horrour at some vice. Different vices and different virtues havethe strongest impression on different men! Mà il virtù in astratto è ilnutrimento dei nostri cuori. But virtue in the abstract, is the food ofour hearts. "

[Footnote 124: Compare Boswell's discussion with Johnson on May 7th, 1773. --ED. ]

Talking of Providence, he said to me with that earnestness with which aman speaks who is anxious to be believed: "I tell you on the word of anhonest man, it is impossible for me not to be persuaded that GODinterposes to give freedom to Corsica. A people oppressed like theCorsicans, are certainly worthy of divine assistance. When we were inthe most desperate circumstances, I never lost courage, trusting as Idid in Providence. " I ventured to object: "But why has not Providenceinterposed sooner?" He replied with a noble, serious and devout air, "Because his ways are unsearchable. I adore him for what he hath done. Irevere him in what he hath not done. "

I gave Paoli the character of my revered friend Mr. Samuel Johnson. Ihave often regreted that illustrious men such as humanity produces a fewtimes in the revolution of many ages, should not see each other; andwhen such arise in the same age, though at the distance of half theglobe, I have been astonished how they could forbear to meet. 

"As steel sharpneth steel, so doth a man the countenance of his friend, "says the wise monarch. What an idea may we not form of an interviewbetween such a scholar and philosopher as Mr. Johnson, and such alegislatour and general as Paoli![125]

[Footnote 125: "On the evening of October 10, 1769, I presented Dr. Johnson to General Paoli. I had greatly wished that two men, for whom Ihad the highest esteem, should meet. They met with a manly ease, mutually conscious of their own abilities, and of the abilities of eachother. "--Boswell's "Johnson. "--ED. ]

I repeated to Paoli several of Mr. Johnson's sayings, so remarkable forstrong sense and original humour. I now recollect these two. 

When I told Mr. Johnson that a certain authour affected in conversationto maintain, that there was no distinction between virtue and vice, hesaid, "Why Sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying;and I see not what honour he can propose to himself from having thecharacter of a lyar. But if he does really think that there is nodistinction between virtue and vice, why Sir, when he leaves our houseslet us count our spoons. "[126]

[Footnote 126: See Boswell's "Johnson. " Date of July 14th, 1763. --ED. ]

Of modern infidels and innovatours, he said, "Sir, these are all vainmen, and will gratify themselves at any expence. Truth will not affordsufficient food to their vanity; so they have betaken themselves toerrour. Truth Sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they are gone to milk the bull. "[127]

[Footnote 127: See Boswell's "Johnson. " Date of July 20th, 1763. --ED. ]

I felt an elation of mind to see Paoli delighted with the sayings of Mr. Johnson, and to hear him translate them with Italian energy to theCorsican heroes. 

I repeated Mr. Johnson's sayings as nearly as I could, in his ownpeculiar forcible language, [128] for which, prejudiced or littlecriticks have taken upon them to find fault with him. He is above makingany answer to them, but I have found a sufficient answer in a generalremark in one of his excellent papers. "Difference of thoughts willproduce difference of language. He that thinks with more extent thananother, will want words of larger meaning. "[129]

[Footnote 128: "Lord Pembroke said once to me at Wilton, with a happypleasantry and some truth, that Dr. Johnson's sayings would not appearso extraordinary were it not for his _bow-wow-way_. "--Boswell's "Journalof a Tour to the Hebrides, " page 7. --ED. ]

[Footnote 129: "Idler, " number 70. ]

I hope to be pardoned for this digression, wherein I pay a just tributeof veneration and gratitude to one from whose writings and conversationI have received instructions of which I experience the value in everyscene of my life. 

During Paoli's administration there have been few laws made in Corsica. He mentioned one which he has found very efficacious in curbing thatvindictive spirit of the Corsicans, of which I have said a good deal ina former part of this work. There was among the Corsicans a mostdreadful species of revenge, called "Vendetta trasversa, Collateralrevenge, " which Petrus Cyrnaeus candidly acknowledges. It was this. If aman had received an injury, and could not find a proper opportunity tobe revenged on his enemy personally, he revenged himself on one of hisenemy's relations. So barbarous a practice, was the source ofinnumerable assassinations. Paoli knowing that the point of honour wasevery thing to the Corsicans, opposed it to the progress of the blackestof crimes, fortified by long habits. He made a law, by which it wasprovided, that this collateral revenge should not only be punished withdeath, as ordinary murther, but the memory of the offender should bedisgraced for ever by a pillar of infamy. He also had it enacted thatthe same statute should extend to the violatours of an oath ofreconciliation, once made. 

By thus combating a vice so destructive, he has, by a kind of shock ofopposite passions, reduced the fiery Corsicans to a state of mildness, and he assured me that they were now all fully sensible of the equity ofthat law. 

While I was at Sollacarò information was received that the poor wretchwho strangled the woman at the instigation of his mistress had consentedto accept of his life, upon condition of becoming hangman. This made agreat noise among the Corsicans, who were enraged at the creature, andsaid their nation was now disgraced. Paoli did not think so. He said tome, "I am glad of this. It will be of service. It will contribute toform us to a just subordination. [130] We have as yet too great anequality among us. As we must have Corsican taylours and Corsicanshoemakers, we must also have a Corsican hangman. "

[Footnote 130: "'Sir, ' said Johnson, 'I am a friend to subordination, asmost conducive to the happiness of society. '"--Boswell's "Johnson. " Dateof June 13, 1763. --ED. ]

I could not help being of a different opinion. The occupations of ataylour and a shoemaker, though mean, are not odious. When I afterwardsmet M. Rousseau in England, and made him a report of my Corsicanexpedition, he agreed with me in thinking that it would be somethingnoble for the brave islanders to be able to say that there was not aCorsican but who would rather suffer death than become a hangman; and healso agreed with me, that it might have a good effect to have always aGenoese for the hangman of Corsica. 

I must, however, do the Genoese the justice to observe that Paoli toldme, that even one of them had suffered death in Corsica, rather thanconsent to become hangman. When I, with a keenness natural enough in aBriton born with an abhorrence at tyranny, talked with violence againstthe Genoese, Paoli said with a moderation and candour which ought to dohim honour even with the republick, "It is true the Genoese are ourenemies; but let us not forget that they are the descendants of thoseworthies who carried their arms beyond the Hellespont. "

There is one circumstance in Paoli's character which I present to myreaders with caution, knowing how much it may be ridiculed in an agewhen mankind are so fond of incredulity, that they seem to piquethemselves in contracting their circle of belief as much as possible. But I consider this infidel rage as but a temporary mode of the humanunderstanding, and am well persuaded that e'er long we shall return to amore calm philosophy. 

I own I cannot help thinking that though we may boast some improvementsin science, and in short, superior degrees of knowledge in things whereour faculties can fully reach, yet we should not assume to ourselvessounder judgements than those of our fathers; I will therefore ventureto relate that Paoli has at times extraordinary impressions of distantand future events. 

The way in which I discovered it was this: Being very desirous ofstudying so exalted a character, I so far presumed upon his goodness tome, as to take the liberty of asking him a thousand questions withregard to the most minute and private circumstances of his life. Havingasked him one day when some of his nobles were present, whether a mindso active as his was employed even in sleep, and if he used to dreammuch, Signor Casa Bianca said, with an air and tone which impliedsomething of importance, "Sì, si sogna. Yes, he dreams. " And upon myasking him to explain his meaning, he told me that the General had oftenseen in his dreams, what afterwards came to pass. Paoli confirmed thisby several instances. Said he, "I can give you no clear explanation ofit. I only tell you facts. Sometimes I have been mistaken, but ingeneral these visions have proved true. I cannot say what may be theagency of invisible spirits. They certainly must know more than we do;and there is nothing absurd in supposing that GOD should permit them tocommunicate their knowledge to us. "

He went into a most curious and pleasing disquisition on a subject, which the late ingenious Mr. Baxter has treated in a very philosophicalmanner, in his "Inquiry into the Nature of the Human Soul;"[131] a bookwhich may be read with as much delight, and surely with more advantagethan the works of those who endeavour to destroy our belief. Belief isfavourable to the human mind, were it for nothing else but to furnish itentertainment. An infidel I should think must frequently suffer fromennui. 

[Footnote 131: Published in October, 1733. "The author is said to be oneBaxter. "--"Gentleman's Magazine" for 1750, vol. Xx. --ED. ]

It was perhaps affectation in Socrates to say, that all he had learnedto know was that he knew nothing. But surely it is a mark of wisdom, tobe sensible of the limited extent of human knowledge, to examine withreverence the ways of GOD, nor presumptuously reject any opinion whichhas been held by the judicious and the learned, because it has been madea cloak for artifice, or had a variety of fictions raised upon it bycredulity. 

Old Feltham says, "Every dream is not to be counted of; nor yet are allto be cast away with contempt. I would neither be a Stoick, superstitious in all; nor yet an Epicure, considerate of none. "[132] Andafter observing how much the ancients attended to the interpretation ofdreams, he adds, "Were it not for the power of the gospel in crying downthe vains[133] of men, it would appear a wonder how a science sopleasing to humanity, should fall so quite to ruin. "[134]

[Footnote 132: "Feltham's Resolves, " Cent. I. , Resol. 52. ]

[Footnote 133: He means vanity. ]

[Footnote 134: "Feltham's Resolves, " Cent. I. , Resol. 52. ]

The mysterious circumstance in Paoli's character which I have venturedto relate, is universally believed in Corsica. The inhabitants of thatisland, like the Italians, express themselves much by signs. When Iasked one of them if there had been many instances of the General'sforeseeing future events, he grasped a large bunch of his hair, andreplied, "Tante, Signore, So many, Sir. "

It may be said that the General has industriously propagated thisopinion, in order that he might have more authority in civilizing a rudeand ferocious people, as Lycurgus pretended to have the sanction of theoracle at Delphos, as Numa gave it out that he had frequent interviewswith the nymph Egeria, or as Marius persuaded the Romans that hereceived divine communications from a hind. But I cannot allow myself tosuppose that Paoli ever required the aid of pious frauds. 

Paoli, though never familiar, has the most perfect ease of behaviour. This is a mark of a real great character. The distance and reserve whichsome of our modern nobility affect is, because nobility is now littleelse than a name in comparison of what it was in ancient times. Inancient times, noblemen lived at their country seats, like princes, inhospitable grandeur. They were men of power, and every one of them couldbring hundreds of followers into the field. They were then open andaffable. Some of our modern nobility are so anxious to preserve anappearance of dignity which they are sensible cannot bear anexamination, that they are afraid to let you come near them. Paoli isnot so. Those about him come into his apartment at all hours, wake him, help him on with his clothes, are perfectly free from restraint; yetthey know their distance, and, awed by his real greatness, never losetheir respect for him. 

Though thus easy of access, particular care is taken against suchattempts upon the life of the illustrious Chief, as he has good reasonto apprehend from the Genoese, who have so often employed assassinationmerely in a political view, and who would gain so much by assassinatingPaoli. A certain number of soldiers are continually on guard upon him;and as still closer guards, he has some faithful Corsican dogs. Of thesefive or six sleep, some in his chamber, and some at the outside of thechamber-door. He treats them with great kindness, and they are stronglyattached to him. They are extremely sagacious, and know all his friendsand attendants. Were any person to approach the General during thedarkness of the night, they would instantly tear him in pieces. 

Having dogs for his attendants, is another circumstance about Paolisimilar to the heroes of antiquity. Homer represents Telemachus soattended. 

 [Greek: duô kunes argoi heponto], --HOMER, "Odyss. , " lib. Ii. , l. 11. 

 "Two dogs a faithful guard attend behind. "

 --POPE. 

But the description given of the family of Patroclus applies better toPaoli. 

 [Greek: Ennea tô ge anakti trapezêes kunes êsan], --HOMER, "Iliad, " lib. Xxiii. , l. 73. 

 "Nine large dogs domestick at his board. "

 --POPE. 

Mr. Pope, in his notes on the second book of the "Odyssey, " is muchpleased with dogs being introduced, as it furnishes an agreeableinstance of ancient simplicity. He observes that Virgil thought thiscircumstance worthy of his imitation, in describing old Evander. [135] Sowe read of Syphax, general of the Numidians, "Syphax inter duos canesstans, Scipionem appellavit. [136] Syphax standing between two dogscalled to Scipio. "

[Footnote 135: "Æneid, " lib. Viii. , l. 461. ]

[Footnote 136: I mention this on the authority of an excellent scholar, and one of our best writers, Mr. Joseph Warton, in his notes on theAeneid; for I have not been able to find the passage in Livy which hequotes. ]

Talking of courage, he made a very just distinction betweenconstitutional courage and courage from reflection. "Sir Thomas More, "said he, "would not probably have mounted a breach so well as a sergeantwho had never thought of death. But a sergeant would not on a scaffoldhave shewn the calm resolution of Sir Thomas More. "

On this subject he told me a very remarkable anecdote, which happenedduring the last war in Italy. At the siege of Tortona, the commander ofthe army which lay before the town, ordered Carew an Irish officer inthe service of Naples, to advance with a detachment to a particularpost. Having given his orders, he whispered to Carew, "Sir, I know youto be a gallant man. I have therefore put you upon this duty. I tell youin confidence, it is certain death for you all. I place you there tomake the enemy spring a mine below you. " Carew made a bow to thegeneral, and led on his men in silence to the dreadful post. He therestood with an undaunted countenance, and having called to one of thesoldiers for a draught of wine, "Here, " said he, "I drink to all thosewho bravely fall in battle. " Fortunately at that instant Tortonacapitulated, and Carew escaped. But he had thus a full opportunity ofdisplaying a rare instance of determined intrepidity. It is withpleasure that I record an anecdote so much to the honour of a gentlemanof that nation, on which illiberal reflections are too often thrown, bythose of whom it little deserves them. Whatever may be the rough jokesof wealthy insolence, or the envious sarcasms of needy jealousy, theIrish have ever been, and will continue to be, highly regarded upon thecontinent. 

Paoli's personal authority among the Corsicans struck me much. I haveseen a crowd of them, with eagerness and impetuosity, endeavouring toapproach him, as if they would have burst into his apartment by force. In vain did the guards attempt to restrain them; but when he called tothem in a tone of firmness, "Non c'è ora ricorso, No audience now, " theywere hushed at once. 

He one afternoon gave us an entertaining dissertation on the ancient artof war. He observed that the ancients allowed of little baggage, whichthey very properly called "impedimenta;" whereas the moderns burthenthemselves with it to such a degree, that 50, 000 of our present soldiersare allowed as much baggage as was formerly thought sufficient for allthe armies of the Roman empire. He said it was good for soldiers to beheavy armed, as it renders them proportionably robust; and he remarkedthat when the Romans lightened their arms the troops becameenfeebled. [137] He made a very curious observation with regard to thetowers full of armed men, which we are told were borne on the backs oftheir elephants. He said it must be a mistake; for if the towers werebroad, there would not be room for them on the backs of elephants; forhe and a friend who was an able calculatour, had measured a very largeelephant at Naples, and made a computation of the space necessary tohold the number of men said to be contained in those towers, and theyfound that the back of the broadest elephant would not be sufficient, after making the fullest allowance for what might be hung by ballance oneither side of the animal. If again the towers were high, they wouldfall; for he did not think it at all probable that the Romans had theart of tying on such monstrous machines at a time when they had notlearnt the use even of girths to their saddles. He said he did not givetoo much credit to the figures on Trajan's pillar, many of which wereundoubtedly false. He said it was his opinion, that those towers wereonly drawn by the elephants; an opinion founded in probability, and freefrom the difficulties of that which has been commonly received. 

[Footnote 137: "The enervated soldiers abandoned their own, and thepublic defence; and their pusillanimous indolence may be considered asthe immediate cause of the downfall of the empire. " Gibbon's "Declineand Fall, " chapter 27. --ED. ]

Talking of various schemes of life, fit for a man of spirit andeducation; I mentioned to him that of being a foreign minister. He saidhe thought it a very agreeable employment for a man of parts andaddress, during some years of his life. "In that situation, " said he, "aman will insensibly attain to a greater knowledge of men and manners, and a more perfect acquaintance with the politicks of Europe. He will bepromoted according to the returns which he makes to his court. They mustbe accurate, distinct, without fire or ornament. He may subjoin his ownopinion, but he must do it with great modesty. The ministry at home areproud. "

He said the greatest happiness was not in glory, but in goodness; andthat Penn in his American colony, where he had established a people inquiet and contentment, was happier than Alexander the Great afterdestroying multitudes at the conquest of Thebes. He observed that thehistory of Alexander is obscure and dubious; for his captains whodivided his kingdom, were too busy to record his life and actions, andwould at any rate wish to render him odious to posterity. 

Never was I so thoroughly sensible of my own defects as while I was inCorsica. I felt how small were my abilities, and how little I knew. Ambitious to be the companion of Paoli, and to understand a country anda people which roused me so much, I wished to be a Sir JamesMacDonald. [138]

[Footnote 138: Sir James MacDonald, baronet of the Isle of Sky, who atthe age of one and twenty, had the learning and abilities of aProfessour and a statesman, with the accomplishments of a man of theworld. Eton and Oxford will ever remember him as one of their greatestornaments. [B] He was well known to the most distinguished in Europe, butwas carried off from all their expectations. He died at Frescati, nearRome, in 1765. Had he lived a little longer, I believe I should haveprevailed with him to visit Corsica. ]

[Footnote B: Horace Walpole thus describes him in a letter datedSeptember 30th, 1765:--"He is a very extraordinary young man for varietyof learning. He is rather too wise for his age, and too fond of showingit; but when he has seen more of the world, he will choose to knowless. " See also Boswell's "Johnson. " Date of July 20th, 1763. --ED. ]

The last day which I spent with Paoli appeared of inestimable value. Ithought him more than usually great and amiable, when I was upon the eveof parting from him. The night before my departure, a little incidenthappened which shewed him in a most agreeable light. When the servantswere bringing in the desert after supper, one of them chanced to letfall a plate of walnuts. Instead of flying into a passion at what theman could not help, Paoli said with a smile, "No matter;" and turning tome, "It is a good sign for you, Sir, Tempus est spargere nuces, It istime to scatter walnuts. It is a matrimonial omen: You must go home toyour own country, and marry some fine woman whom you really like. Ishall rejoice to hear of it. "

This was a pretty allusion to the Roman ceremony at weddings, ofscattering walnuts. So Virgil's "Damon" says--

 "Mopse novas incide faces: tibi ducitur uxor. Sparge marite nuces: tibi deserit Hesperus Oetam. "

 --VIRG. "Eclog. " viii, l. 30. 

 "Thy bride comes forth! begin the festal rites! The walnuts strew! prepare the nuptial lights! O envied husband, now thy bliss is nigh! Behold for thee bright Hesper mounts the sky!"

 --WARTON. 

When I again asked Paoli if it was possible for me in any way to shewhim my great respect and attachment, he replied, "Ricordatevi che Io visia amico, e scrivetemi. Remember that I am your friend, and write tome. " I said I hoped that when he honoured me with a letter, he wouldwrite not only as a commander, but as a philosopher and a man ofletters. He took me by the hand, and said, "As a friend. " I dare nottranscribe from my private notes the feelings which I had at thisinterview. I should perhaps appear too enthusiastick. I took leave ofPaoli with regret and agitation, not without some hopes of seeing himagain. From having known intimately so exalted a character, mysentiments of human nature were raised, while, by a sort of contagion, Ifelt an honest ardour to distinguish myself, and be useful, as far as mysituation and abilities would allow; and I was, for the rest of my life, set free from a slavish timidity in the presence of great men, for whereshall I find a man greater than Paoli?

When I set out from Sollacarò I felt myself a good deal indisposed. Theold house of Colonna, like the family of its master, was much decayed;so that both wind and rain found their way into my bed-chamber. Fromthis I contracted a severe cold, which ended in a tertian ague. Therewas no help for it. I might well submit to some inconveniences, where Ihad enjoyed so much happiness. 

I was accompanied a part of the road by a great swarthy priest, who hadnever been out of Corsica. He was a very Hercules for strength andresolution. He and two other Corsicans took a castle, garrisoned by noless than fifteen Genoese. Indeed the Corsicans have such a contempt fortheir enemies, that I have heard them say, "Basterebbero le donne contrai Genovesi, Our women would be enough against the Genoese. " This priestwas a bluff, hearty, roaring fellow, troubled neither with knowledge norcare. He was ever and anon shewing me how stoutly his nag could caper. He always rode some paces before me, and sat in an attitude half turnedround, with his hand clapped upon the crupper. Then he would burst outwith comical songs about the devil and the Genoese, [139] and I don'tknow what all. In short, notwithstanding my feverishness, he kept melaughing whether I would or no. 

[Footnote 139: "When he came to the part--

 'We'll still make 'em run, and we'll still make 'em sweat, In spite of the devil and Brussels Gazette!'

his eyes would sparkle as with the freshness of an impendingevent. "--Letter of Charles Lambe to H. C. Robinson, January 20th, 1826. --ED. ]

I was returning to Corte, but I varied my road a little from the way Ihad come, going more upon the low country, and nearer the western shore. 

At Cauro I had a fine view of Ajaccio and its environs. My ague wassometime of forming, so I had frequent intervals of ease, which Iemployed in observing whatever occurred. I was lodged at Cauro in thehouse of Signor Peraldi of Ajaccio, who received me with greatpoliteness. I found here another provincial magistracy. Before supper, Signor Peraldi and a young Abbé of Ajaccio entertained me with some airson a violin. After they had shewn me their taste in fine improvedmusick, they gave me some original Corsican airs, and at my desire, theybrought up four of the guards of the magistracy, and made them shew me aCorsican dance. It was truly savage. They thumped with their heels, sprung upon their toes, brandished their arms, wheeled and leaped withthe most violent gesticulations. It gave me the idea of an admirable wardance. 

During this journey I had very bad weather. I cannot forget the worthyrectour of Cuttoli, whose house afforded me a hospitable retreat, whenwet to the skin, and quite overcome by the severity of the storm, whichmy sickness made me little able to resist. He was directly such avenerable hermit as we read of in the old romances. His figure andmanner interested me at first sight. I found he was a man well respectedin the island, and that the General did him the honour to correspondwith him. He gave me a simple collation of eggs, chestnuts and wine, and was very liberal of his ham and other more substantial victuals tomy servant. The honest Swiss was by this time very well pleased to havehis face turned towards the continent. He was heartily tired of seeingforeign parts, and meeting with scanty meals and hard beds, in an islandwhich he could not comprehend the pleasure of visiting. He said to me, "Si J' etois encore une fois retourné à mon pais parmi ces montagnes deSuisse dont monsieur fait tant des plaisanteries, Je verrai quim'engagera à les quitter. If I were once more at home in my own country, among those mountains of Switzerland, on which you have had so manyjokes, I will see who shall prevail with me to quit them. "

The General, out of his great politeness, would not allow me to travelwithout a couple of chosen guards to attend me in case of any accidents. I made them my companions, to relieve the tediousness of my journey. Oneof them called Ambrosio, was a strange iron-coloured fearless creature. He had been much in war; careless of wounds, he was cooly intent ondestroying the enemy. He told me, as a good anecdote, that having beenso lucky as to get a view of two Genoese exactly in a line, he took hisaim, and shot them both through the head at once. He talked of this justas one would talk of shooting a couple of crows. I was sure I needed beunder no apprehension; but I don't know how, I desired Ambrosio to marchbefore me that I might see him. 

I was upon my guard how I treated him. But as sickness frets one'stemper, I sometimes forgot myself, and called him "bestia, blockhead;"and once when he was at a loss which way to go, at a wild woody part ofthe country, I fell into a passion, and called to him "Mi maraviglio cheun uomo si bravo può esser si stupido. I am amazed that so brave a mancan be so stupid. " However by afterwards calling him friend, andspeaking softly to him, I soon made him forget my ill humour, and weproceeded as before. 

Paoli had also been so good as to make me a present of one of his dogs, a strong and fierce animal. But he was too old to take an attachment tome, and I lost him between Lyons and Paris. The General has promised mea young one, to be a guard at Auchinleck. 

At Bogognano I came upon the same road I had formerly travelled fromCorte, where I arrived safe after all my fatigues. My good fathers ofthe Franciscan convent, received me like an old acquaintance, and sheweda kind concern at my illness. I sent my respects to the GreatChancellor, who returned me a note, of which I insert a translation as aspecimen of the hearty civility to be found among the highest inCorsica. 

"Many congratulations to Mr. Boswell on his return from beyond themountains, from his servant Massesi, who is at the same time very sorryfor his indisposition, which he is persuaded has been occasioned by hissevere journey. He however flatters himself, that when Mr. Boswell hasreposed himself a little, he will recover his usual health. In the meantime he has taken the liberty to send him a couple of fowls, which hehopes, he will honour with his acceptance, as he will need somerefreshment this evening. He wishes him a good night, as does his littleservant Luiggi, who will attend him to-morrow, to discharge his duty. "

My ague distressed me so much, that I was confined to the convent forseveral days: I did not however weary. I was visited by the GreatChancellor, and several others of the civil magistrates, and by PadreMariani rectour of the university, a man of learning and abilities, as aproof of which he had been three years at Madrid in the character ofsecretary to the General of the Franciscans. I remember a very eloquentexpression of his on the state of his country. "Corsica, " said he, "hasfor many years past, been bleeding at all her veins. They are nowclosed. But after being so severely exhausted, it will take some timebefore she can recover perfect strength. " I was also visited by PadreLeonardo, of whose animating discourse I have made mention in a formerpart of this book. 

Indeed I should not have been at a loss though my very reverend fathershad been all my society. I was not in the least looked upon as aheretick. Difference of faith was forgotten in hospitality. I went aboutthe convent as if I had been in my own house; and the fathers withoutany impropriety of mirth, were yet as chearful as I could desire. 

I had two surgeons to attend me at Corte, a Corsican and a Piedmontese;and I got a little Jesuit's bark from the spiceria, or apothecary'sshop, of the Capuchin convent. I did not however expect to beeffectually cured till I should get to Bastia. I found it was perfectlysafe for me to go thither. There was a kind of truce between theCorsicans and the French. Paoli had held two different amicableconferences with M. De Marboeuf their commander in chief, and was sowell with him, that he gave me a letter of recommendation to him. 

On one of the days that my ague disturbed me least, I walked from theconvent to Corte, purposely to write a letter to Mr. Samuel Johnson. Itold my revered friend, that from a kind of superstition agreeable in acertain degree to him, as well as to myself, I had during my travels, written to him from Loca Solennia, places in some measure sacred. Thatas I had written to him from the Tomb of Melancthon, sacred to learningand piety, I now wrote to him from the palace of Pascal Paoli, sacred towisdom and liberty; knowing that however his political principles mayhave been represented, he had always a generous zeal for the commonrights of humanity. I gave him a sketch of the great things I had seenin Corsica, and promised him a more ample relation. [140]

[Footnote 140: "He kept the greater part of my letters very carefully;and a short time before his death was attentive enough to seal them upin bundles, and ordered them to be delivered to me, which wasaccordingly done. Amongst them I found one, of which I had not made acopy, and which I own I read with pleasure at the distance of almosttwenty years. It is dated November, 1765, at the palace of Pascal Paoli, in Corte, and is full of generous enthusiasm. After giving a sketch of whatI had seen and heard in that island, it proceeded thus:--'I dare to callthis a spirited tour. I dare to challenge your approbation. '"--Boswell's"Johnson. " Date of 1765. ]

Mr. Johnson was pleased with what I wrote here; for I received at Parisan answer from him which I keep as a valuable charter. "When you return, you will return to an unaltered, and I hope, unalterable friend. Allthat you have to fear from me, is the vexation of disappointing me. Noman loves to frustrate expectations which have been formed in hisfavour, and the pleasure which I promise myself from your journals andremarks, is so great, that perhaps no degree of attention or discernmentwill be sufficient to afford it. Come home however and take your chance. I long to see you, and to hear you; and hope that we shall not be solong separated again. Come home, and expect such a welcome as is due tohim whom a wise and noble curiosity has led where perhaps, no native ofthis country ever was before. "[141]

[Footnote 141: "Having had no letter from him, . .. And having been toldby somebody that he was offended at my having put into my book anextract of his letter to me at Paris, I was impatient to be with him. .. . I found that Dr. Johnson had sent a letter to me to Scotland, and that Ihad nothing to complain of but his being more indifferent to my anxietythan I wished him to be. " In the letter, which is dated March 23, 1768, Johnson had said, "I have omitted a long time to write to you, withoutknowing very well why. I could now tell why I should not write; for whowould write to men who publish the letters of their friends withouttheir leave? Yet I write to you, in spite of my caution, to tell youthat I shall be glad to see you, and that I wish you would empty yourhead of Corsica, which I think has filled it rather too long. "--ED. ]

I at length set out for Bastia. I went the first night to Rostino, hoping to have found there Signor Clemente de' Paoli. But unluckily hehad gone upon a visit to his daughter; so that I had not an opportunityof seeing this extraordinary personage, of whom I have given so full anaccount, [142] for a great part of which I am indebted to Mr. Burnaby. 

[Footnote 142: See Appendix C. --ED. ]

Next day I reached Vescovato, where I was received by Signor Buttafoco, who proved superiour to the character I had conceived of him from theletter of M. Rousseau. [143] I found in him the incorrupted virtues ofthe brave islander, with the improvements of the continent. I found him, in short, to be a man of principle, abilities and knowledge; and at thesame time a man of the world. He is now deservedly raised to the rank ofcolonel of the Royal Corsicans, in the service of France. 

[Footnote 143: In this letter a high character is given of Buttafoco. See page 141. --ED. ]

I past some days with Signor Buttafoco, from whose conversation Ireceived so much pleasure, that I in a great measure forgot my ague. 

As various discourses have been held in Europe, concerning an invitationgiven to M. Rousseau to come to Corsica; and as that affair wasconducted by Signor Buttafoco, who shewed me the whole correspondencebetween him and M. Rousseau, I am enabled to give a distinct account ofit. 

M. Rousseau in his Political Treatise, entitled "Du Contract Social, "has the following observation: "Il est encore en Europe un pays capablede législation; c'est l'isle de Corse. La valeur et la constance aveclaquelle ce brave peuple a su recouvrer et défendre sa libertémériteroit bien que quelque homme sage lui apprit à la conserver. J'aiquelque pressentiment qu'un jour cette petite isle étonneral'Europe. [144] There is yet one country in Europe, capable oflegislation; and that is the island of Corsica. The valour and theconstancy with which that brave people have recovered and defended itsliberty, would well deserve that some wise man should teach them how topreserve it. I have some presentiment that one day that little islandwill astonish Europe. "

[Footnote 144: "Du Contract Social, " liv. Ii. , chap. 10. ]

Signor Buttafoco, upon this, wrote to M. Rousseau, returning him thanksfor the honour he had done to the Corsican nation, and strongly invitinghim to come over, and be that wise man who should illuminate theirminds. 

I was allowed to take a copy of the wild philosopher's answer to thisinvitation; it is written with his usual eloquence. 

"Il est superflu, Monsieur, de chercher à exciter mon zele pourl'entreprise que vous me proposez. Sa[145] seule idée m'éleve l'ame etme transporte. Je croirois la[146] reste de mes jours bien noblement, bien vertueusement et bien heureusement employés. [147] Je croirois memeavoir bien racheté l'inutilité des autres, si je pouvois rendre cetriste reste bon en quelque chose à vos braves compatriotes; si jepouvois concourir par quelque conseil utile aux vues de votre[148] digneChef et aux vôtres; de ce côté-là donc soyez sur de moi. Ma vie et moncoeur sont à vous. "

[Footnote 145: La. --ED. ]

[Footnote 146: Le. --ED. ]

[Footnote 147: Employé. --ED. ]

[Footnote 148: Leur. I have made the corrections by the copy given in"Rousseau's Collected Works. "--ED. ]

"It is superfluous, Sir, to endeavour to excite my zeal for theundertaking which you propose to me. The very idea of it elevates mysoul and transports me. I should esteem the rest of my days very nobly, very virtuously, and very happily employed. I should even think that Iwell redeemed the inutility of many of my days that are past, if I couldrender these sad remains of any advantage to your brave countrymen. Ifby any useful advice, I could concur in the views of your worthy Chief, and in yours. So far then you may be sure of me. My life and my heartare devoted to you. "

Such were the first effusions of Rousseau. Yet before he concluded eventhis first letter, he made a great many complaints of his adversitiesand persecutions, and started a variety of difficulties as to theproposed enterprise. 

The correspondence was kept up for some time, but the enthusiasm of theparadoxical philosopher gradually subsiding, the scheme came tonothing. [149]

[Footnote 149: In one of his letters, dated March 24, 1765, Rousseausaid:--"Sur le peu que j'ai parcouru de vos mémoires, je vois que mesidées different prodigieusement de celles de votre nation. Il ne seraitpas possible que le plan que je proposerais ne fît beaucoup demécontents, et peut-être vous-même tout le premier. Or, Monsieur, jesuis rassasié de disputes et de querelles. "--ED. ]

As I have formerly observed, M. De Voltaire thought proper to exercisehis pleasantry upon occasion of this proposal, [150] in order to vex thegrave Rousseau, whom he never could bear. I remember he used to talk ofhim with a satyrical smile, and call him, "Ce Garçon, That Lad;" I findthis among my notes of M. De Voltaire's conversations, when I was withhim at his Chateau de Ferney, where he entertains with the elegancerather of a real prince than of a poetical one. 

[Footnote 150: "Je reçus bien . .. La lettre de M. Paoli; mais . .. Ilfaut vous dire, Monsieur, que le bruit de la proposition que vousm'aviez faite s'étant répandu sans que je sache comment, M. De Voltairefit entendre à tout le monde que cette proposition était une inventionde sa façon; il prétendait m'avoir écrit au nom des Corses une lettrecontrefaite dont j'avais été la dupe. "--Rousseau to Butta-Foco, May 26, 1765. --ED. ]

To have Voltaire's assertion contradicted by a letter under Paoli's ownhand, was no doubt a sufficient satisfaction to Rousseau. 

From the account which I have attempted to give of the presentconstitution of Corsica, and of its illustrious Legislatour and General, it may well be conceived that the scheme of bringing M. Rousseau intothat island, was magnified to an extravagant degree by the reports ofthe continent. It was said, that Rousseau was to be made no less than aSolon by the Corsicans, who were implicitely to receive from him a codeof laws. 

This was by no means the scheme. Paoli was too able a man to submit thelegislation of his country to one who was an entire stranger to thepeople, the manners, and in short to every thing in the island. Nay, Iknow well that Paoli pays more regard to what has been tried by theexperience of ages than to the most beautiful ideal systems. Besides, the Corsicans were not all at once to be moulded at will. They were tobe gradually prepared, and by one law laying the foundation foranother, a compleat fabrick of jurisprudence was to be formed. 

Paoli's intention was to grant a generous asylum to Rousseau, to availhimself of the shining talents which appeared in his writings, byconsulting with him, and catching the lights of his rich imagination, from many of which he might derive improvements to those plans which hisown wisdom had laid down. 

But what he had principally in view, was to employ the pen of Rousseauin recording the heroick actions of the brave islanders. It is to beregretted that this project did not take place. The father of thepresent colonel Buttafoco made large collections for many years back. These are carefully preserved, and when joined to those made by the AbbéRostini, would furnish ample materials for a History of Corsica. This, adorned with the genius of Rousseau, would have been one of the noblestmonuments of modern times. 

Signor Buttafoco accompanied me to Bastia. It was comfortable to enter agood warm town after my fatigues. We went to the house of SignorMorelli, a counsellor at law here, with whom we supped. I was lodged forthat night by a friend of Signor Buttafoco, in another part of the town. 

Next morning I waited on M. De Marboeuf. Signor Buttafoco introduced meto him, and I presented him the letter of recommendation from Paoli. Hegave me a most polite reception. The brilliancy of his levee pleased me;it was a scene so different from those which I had been for some timeaccustomed to see. It was like passing at once from a rude and earlyage to a polished modern age; from the mountains of Corsica to the banksof the Seine. 

My ague was now become so violent that it got the better of mealtogether. I was obliged to ask the French general's permission to havea chair set for me in the circle. When M. De Marboeuf was informed of mybeing ill, he had the goodness to ask me to stay in his house till Ishould recover; "I insist upon it, " said he, "I have a warm room foryou. My servants will get you bouillons, and every thing proper for asick man; and we have an excellent physician. " I mention all thesecircumstances to shew the goodness of M. De Marboeuf, to whom I shallever consider myself as under great obligations, His invitation wasgiven in so kind and cordial a manner, that I willingly accepted of it. 

I found M. De Marboeuf a worthy open-hearted Frenchman. It is a commonand a very just remark, that one of the most agreeable characters in theworld is a Frenchman who has served long in the army, and has arrived atthat age when the fire of youth is properly tempered. Such a characteris gay without levity, and judicious without severity. Such a characterwas the Count de Marboeuf, of an ancient family in Britanny, where thereis more plainness of character than among the other French. He had beenGentilhomme de la Chambre to the worthy King Stanislaus. 

He took a charge of me as if he had been my near relation. He furnishedme with books and every thing he could think of to amuse me. While thephysician ordered me to be kept very quiet, M. De Marboeuf would allownobody to go near me, but payed me a friendly visit alone. As I grewbetter he gradually encreased my society, bringing with him more andmore of his officers; so that I had at last the honour of very largecompanies in my apartment. The officers were polite agreeable men: someof them had been prisoners in England, during the last war. One of themwas a Chevalier de St. Louis, of the name of Douglas, a descendant ofthe illustrious house of Douglas in Scotland, by a branch settled nearto Lyons. This gentleman often came and sat with me. The idea of ourbeing in some sort countrymen, was pleasing to us both. 

I found here an English woman of Penrith in Cumberland. When theHighlanders marched through that country in the year 1745, she hadmarried a soldier of the French picquets in the very midst of all theconfusion and danger, and when she could hardly understand one word hesaid. Such freaks will love sometimes take. 

 "Sic visum Veneri; cui placet impares Formas atque animos sub juga ahenea Saevo mittere cum joco. "

 --HORAT. Lib. I. , Od. 33. 

 "So Venus wills, whose power controuls The fond affections of our souls; With sportive cruelty she binds Unequal forms, unequal minds. "

 --FRANCIS. 

M. De la Chapelle was the physician who attended me. He had been severalyears physician to the army at Minorca, and had now the same office inCorsica. I called him the physician of the isles. He was indeed anexcellent one. That gayeté de coeur which the French enjoy, runs throughall their professions. I remember the phrase of an English commonsoldier who told me, "that at the battle of Fontenoy, his captainreceived a shot in the breast, and fell, " said the soldier, "with hisspontoon in his hand, as prettily killed as ever I see'd a gentleman. "The soldier's phrase might be used in talking of almost every thingwhich the French do. I may say I was prettily cured by M. De laChapelle. 

But I think myself bound to relate a circumstance which shews him andhis nation in the genteelest light. Though he attended me with thegreatest assiduity, yet, when I was going away, he would not accept of asingle Louis d'or. "No Sir, " said he, "I am nobly paid by my king. I amphysician to his army here. If I can at the same time, be of service tothe people of the country, or to any gentleman who may come among us, Iam happy. But I must be excused from taking money. " M. Brion the surgeonmajor behaved in the same manner. 

As soon as I had gathered a little strength, I walked about as well as Icould; and saw what was to be seen at Bastia. Signor Morelli wasremarkably obliging. He made me presents of books and antiques, and ofevery other curiosity relating to Corsica. I never saw a more generousman. Signor Carassa, a Corsican officer in the service of France, withthe order of St. Louis, was also very obliging. Having made a longerstay in Corsica than I intended, my finances were exhausted, and he letme have as much money as I pleased. M. Barlé, secretary to M. DeMarboeuf, was also very obliging. In short, I know not how to express mythankfulness to all the good people whom I saw at Bastia. 

The French seemed to agree very well with the Corsicans. Of old, thoseislanders were much indebted to the interposition of France in theirfavour. But since the days of Sampiero, there have been many variancesbetween them. A singular one happened in the reign of Lewis XIV. ThePope's Corsican guards in some fit of passion insulted the Frenchambassadour at Rome. [151] The superb monarch resolved to revenge thisoutrage. But Pope Alexander VII. Foreseeing the consequences, agreed tothe conditions required by France; which were, that the Corsican guardsshould be obliged to depart the ecclesiastical state, that the nationshould be declared incapable ever to serve the holy see, and, thatopposite to their ancient guard-house, should be erected a pyramidinscribed with their disgrace. [152]

[Footnote 151: According to Voltaire it was the French who were the mostto blame. Their ambassador had disgusted the Romans by his arrogance. His servants exaggerated their master's faults, and imitated "lajeunesse indisciplinable de Paris, qui se fesait alors un honneurd'attaquer toutes les nuits le guet qui vieille à la garde de la ville!"Some of them ventured one day to fall sword in hand on the Corsicanguards. The Corsicans in their turn besieged the ambassador's house. Shots were fired, and a page was killed. The ambassador at once leftRome. "Le pape différa tant qu'il put la réparation, persuadé qu' avecles Français il n'y a qu' à temporiser, et que tout s'oublie. " Hehanged, however, a Corsican, and he took other measures to appease LewisXIV. He learnt with alarm that the French troops were entering Italy, and that Rome was threatened with a siege. "Dans d'autres temps lesexcommunications de Rome auraient suivi ces outrages; mais c'étaient desarmes usées et devenues ridicules. " He was forced to give fullsatisfaction. The pyramid mentioned by Boswell was set up, but in a fewyears the French King allowed it to be destroyed. --See Voltaire's"Siècle de Louis XIV. , " chap. Vii. --ED. ]

[Footnote 152: Corps Diplomatique, anno 1664. ]

Le Brun, whose royal genius could magnify and enrich every circumstancein honour of his sovereign, has given this story as a medallion on oneof the compartments of the great gallery at Versailles. France appearswith a stately air, shewing to Rome the design of the pyramid; and Rome, though bearing a shield marked S. P. Q. R. Receives the design with mostsubmissive humility. 

I wish that France had never done the Corsicans greater harm thandepriving them of the honour of being the Pope's guards. Boisseux andMaillebois[153] cannot easily be forgotten; nor can the brave islandersbe blamed for complaining that a powerful nation should interpose toretard their obtaining entire possession of their country and ofundisturbed freedom. 

[Footnote 153: The commanders of the French troops that invaded Corsicain 1738 and 1739. --ED. ]

M. De Marboeuf appeared to conduct himself with the greatest prudenceand moderation. He told me that he wished to preserve peace in Corsica. He had entered into a convention with Paoli, mutually to give up suchcriminals as should fly into each others territories. Formerly not onecriminal in a hundred was punished. There was no communication betweenthe Corsicans and the Genoese; and if a criminal could but escape fromthe one jurisdiction to the other, he was safe. This was very easilydone, so that crimes from impunity were very frequent. By this equitableconvention, justice has been fully administered. 

Perhaps indeed the residence of the French in Corsica, has, upon thewhole, been an advantage to the patriots. There have been markets twicea week at the frontiers of each garrison-town, where the Corsicanpeasants have sold all sorts of provisions, and brought in a good manyFrench crowns; which have been melted down into Corsican money. Acessation of arms for a few years has been a breathing time to thenation, to prepare itself for one great effort, which will probably endin a total expulsion of the Genoese. A little leisure has been given forattending to civil improvements, towards which the example of the Frenchhas in no small degree contributed. Many of the soldiers were excellenthandi-craftsmen, and could instruct the natives in various arts. 

M. De Marboeuf entertained himself by laying out several elegant piecesof pleasure ground; and such were the humane and amicable dispositionsof this respectable officer, that he was at pains to observe what thingswere most wanted in Corsica, and then imported them from France, inorder to shew an example to the inhabitants. He introduced, inparticular, the culture of potatoes, of which there were none in theisland upon his arrival. [154] This root will be of considerable serviceto the Corsicans, it will make a wholesome variety in their food; and asthere will thereby, of consequence, be less home consumption ofchestnuts, they will be able to export a greater quantity of them. 

[Footnote 154: About the year 1750 potatoes were not commonly known inKidderminster, as I know from an anecdote recorded by mygrandfather. --ED. ]

M. De Marboeuf made merry upon the reports which had been circulated, that I was no less than a minister from the British court. The "AvignonGazette" brought us one day information that the English were going toestablish Un Bureau de Commerce in Corsica. "O Sir, " said he, "thesecret is out. I see now the motive of your destination to these parts. It is you who are to establish this Bureau de Commerce. "

Idle as these rumours were, it is a fact that, when I was at Genoa, Signor Gherardi, one of their secretaries of state, very seriously toldme, "Monsieur, vous m'avez fait trembler quoique je ne vous ai jamaisvu. Sir, you have made me tremble although I never saw you before. " Andwhen I smiled and assured him that I was just a simple traveller, heshook his head; but said, he had very authentick information concerningme. He then told me with great gravity, "That while I travelled inCorsica, I was drest in scarlet and gold; but when I payed my respectsto the Supreme Council at Corte, I appeared in a full suit of black. "These important truths I fairly owned to him, and he seemed to exultover me. 

I was more and more obliged to M. De Marboeuf. When I was allowed by myphysician, to go to his Excellency's table where we had always a largecompany, and every thing in great magnificence, he was so careful ofme, that he would not suffer me to eat any thing, or taste a glass ofwine, more than was prescribed for me. He used to say, "I am here bothphysician and commander in chief; so you must submit. " He very politelyprest me to make some stay with him, saying, "We have taken care of youwhen sick, I think we have a claim to you for a while, when in health. "His kindness followed me after I left him. It procured me an agreeablereception from M. Michel, the French chargé d'affaires at Genoa; and wasthe occasion of my being honoured with great civilities at Paris, by M. L'Abbé de Marboeuf conseiller d'etat, brother of the Count, andpossessing similar virtues in private life. 

I quitted Corsica with reluctance, when I thought of the illustriousPaoli. I wrote to him from Bastia, informing him of my illness, which Isaid, was owing to his having made me a man of so much consequence, thatinstead of putting me into a snug little room, he had lodged me in themagnificent old palace, where the wind and rain entered. 

His answer to my first letter is written with so much spirit, that Ibegged his permission to publish it, which he granted in the genteelestmanner, saying, "I do not remember the contents of the letter; but Ihave such a confidence in Mr. Boswell, that I am sure he would notpublish it if there was any thing in it improper for publick view; so hehas my permission. " I am thus enabled to present my readers with anoriginal letter from Paoli. 

"TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. , "OF AUCHINLECK, SCOTLAND. 

"STIMATISSIMO SIGNOR BOSWELL. 

"RICEVEI la lettera che mi favori da Bastia, e mi consolo assai collanotizia di essersi rimessa in perfetta salute. Buon per lei che cadde inmano di un valente medico! Quando altra volta il disgusto de' paesicolti, ed ameni lo prendesse, e lo portasse in questa infelice contrada, procurerò che sia alloggiata in camere più calde, e custodita di quelledella casa Colonna in Sollacarò; mà ella ancora dovrà contentarsi di nonviaggiare quando la giornata, e la stagione vogliono che si resti incasa per attendere il tempo buono. Io resto ora impaziente per lalettera che ha promesso scrivermi da Genova, dove dubito assai che ladelicatezza di quelle dame non le abbia fatto fare qualche giorno diquarantena, per ispurgarsi di ogni anche più leggiero influsso, chepossa avere portato seco dell' aria di questo paese; e molto più, se lefosse venuto il capriccio di far vedere quell' abito di veluto Corso, equel berrettone, di cui i Corsi vogliono l'origine dagli elmi antichi, ed i Genovesi lo dicono inventato da quelli, che, rubando alla strada, non vogliano essere conosciuti: come se in tempo del loro governoavessero mai avuta apprensione di castigo i ladri pubblici? Son sicuroperò, che ella presso avrà il buon partito con quelle amabili, edelicate persone, insinuando alle medesime, che il cuore delle belle èfatto per la compassione, non per il disprezzo, e per la tirannia; ecosi sarà rientrato facilmente nella lor grazia. Io ritornato in Corteebbi subito la notizia del secreto sbarco dell' Abbatucci nellespiaggie di Solenzara. Tutte le apparenze fanno credere che il medesimosia venuto con disegni opposti alla pubblica quiete; pure si èconstituito in castello, e protesta ravvedimento. Nel venire perBocognano si seppe, che un capitano riformato Genovese cercava compagniper assassinarmi. Non potè rinvenirne e vedendosi scoperto si pose allamacchia, dove è stato ucciso dalle squadriglie che gli tenevano dietro imagistrati delle provincie oltramontane. Queste insidie non sembranobuoni preliminari del nostro accomodamento colla republica di Genova. Iosto passando il sindicato a questa provincia di Nebbio. Verso il 10dell' entrante anderò per l'istesso oggetto in quella del Capocorso, edil mese di Febrajo facilmente mi trattenerò in Balagna. Ritornerò poi inCorte alla primavera, per prepararmi all' apertura della consultagenerale. In ogni luogo avrò presente la sua amicizia, e sarò desiderosode' continui suoi riscontri. Frattanto ella mi creda. 

"Suo affettuosissimo amico

"PASQUALE DE' PAOLI. "

"PATRIMONIO, 23 Decembre, 1765. "

"MUCH ESTEEMED MR. BOSWELL, "I RECEIVED the letter which you wrote to me from Bastia, and am muchcomforted by hearing that you are restored to perfect health. It islucky for you that you fell into the hands of an able physician. Whenyou shall again be seized with a disgust at improved and agreeablecountries, and shall return to this ill-fated land, I will take care tohave you lodged in warmer and better finished apartments than those ofthe house of Colonna, at Sollacarò. But you again should be satisfiednot to travel when the weather and the season require one to keep withindoors, and wait for a fair day. I expect with impatience the letterwhich you promised to write to me from Genoa, where I much suspect thatthe delicacy of the ladies will have obliged you to perform some days ofquarantine, for purifying you from every the least infection, which youmay have carried with you from the air of this country; and still moreso, if you have taken the whim to show that suit of Corsican velvet[155]and that bonnet of which the Corsicans will have the origin to be fromthe ancient helmets, whereas the Genoese say that it was invented bythose who rob on the high way, in order to disguise themselves; as ifduring the Genoese government publick robbers needed to fear punishment. I am sure however, that you will have taken the proper method with theseamiable and delicate persons, insinuating to them, that the hearts ofbeauties are formed for compassion, and not for disdain and tyranny: andso you will have been easily restored to their good graces. Immediatelyon my return to Corte, I received information of the secret landing ofAbbatucci, [156] on the coast of Solenzara. All appearances make usbelieve, that he is come with designs contrary to the publick quiet. Hehas however surrendered himself a prisoner at the castle, and protestshis repentance. As I passed by Bogognano, I learnt that a disbandedGenoese officer was seeking associates to assassinate me. He could notsucceed, and finding that he was discovered, he betook himself to thewoods; where he has been slain by the party detached by the magistratesof the provinces on the other side of the mountains, in order tointercept him. These ambuscades do not seem to be good preliminariestowards our accommodation with the republick of Genoa. I am now holdingthe syndicato in this province of Nebbio. About the 10th of next month, I shall go, for the same object, into the province of Capo Corso, andduring the month of February, I shall probably fix my residence inBalagna. I shall return to Corte in the spring, to prepare myself forthe opening of the General Consulta. [157] Wherever I am, your friendshipwill be present to my mind, and I shall be desirous to continue acorrespondence with you. Meanwhile believe me to be

"Your most affectionate friend

"PASCAL PAOLI. "

"PATRIMONIO, 28 December, 1765. "

[Footnote 155: By Corsican velvet he means the coarse stuff made in theisland, which is all that the Corsicans have in stead of the fine velvetof Genoa. ]

[Footnote 156: Abbatucci, a Corsican of a very suspicious character. ]

[Footnote 157: The Parliament of the nation. --ED. ]

Can any thing be more condescending, and at the same time shew more thefirmness of an heroick mind, than this letter? With what a gallantpleasantry does the Corsican Chief talk of his enemies! One would thinkthat the Queens of Genoa should become Rival Queens for Paoli. If theysaw him I am sure they would. 

I take the liberty to repeat an observation made to me by thatillustrious minister, [158] whom Paoli calls the Pericles of GreatBritain. It may be said of Paoli, as the Cardinal de Retz said of thegreat Montrose, "C'est un de ces hommes qu'on ne trouve plus que dansles Vies de Plutarque. He is one of those men who are no longer to befound but in the lives of Plutarch. "

[Footnote 158: The Earl of Chatham. It appears from a letter publishedin the correspondence of the Earl of Chatham (vol. Ii. , p. 388) thatBoswell had an interview granted him by Pitt. Boswell writes:--"I havehad the honour to receive your most obliging letter, and can withdifficulty restrain myself from paying you compliments on the verygenteel manner in which you are pleased to treat me. .. . I hope that Imay with propriety talk to Mr. Pitt of the views of the illustriousPaoli. "--ED. ]

THE END. 

APPENDIX A. 

Under the head of learning I must observe that there is a printing-houseat Corte, and a bookseller's shop, both kept by a Luccese, a man of somecapacity in his business. He has very good types; but he prints nothingmore than the publick manifestoes, calendars of feast days, and littlepractical devotional pieces, as also the "Corsican Gazette, " which ispublished by authority, from time to time, just as news are collected;for it contains nothing but the news of the island. It admits no foreignintelligence, nor private anecdotes; so that there will sometimes be aninterval of three months during which no news-papers are published. 

It will be long before the Corsicans arrive at the refinement inconducting a news-paper, of which London affords an unparalleledperfection; for I do believe an English news-paper is the most variousand extraordinary composition that mankind ever produced. An Englishnews-paper, while it informs the judicious of what is really doing inEurope, can keep pace with the wildest fancy in feigned adventures, andamuse the most desultory taste with essays on all subjects, and in everystile. --Boswell's "Account of Corsica, " page 197. 

APPENDIX B. 

There are some extraordinary customs which still subsist in Corsica. Inparticular they have several strange ceremonies at the death of theirrelations. When a man dies, especially if he has been assassinated, hiswidow with all the married women in the village accompany the corpse tothe grave, where, after various howlings, and other expressions ofsorrow, the women fall upon the widow, and beat and tear her in a mostmiserable manner. Having thus satisfied their grief and passion, theylead her back again, covered with blood and bruises, to her ownhabitation. This I had no opportunity of seeing while I was in theisland; but I have it from undoubted authority. --Boswell's "Account ofCorsica, " page 221. 

APPENDIX C. 

Having said so much of the genius and character of the Corsicans, I mustbeg leave to present my readers with a very distinguished Corsicancharacter, that of Signor Clemente de' Paoli, brother of the General. 

This gentleman is the eldest son of the old General Giacinto Paoli. Heis about fifty years of age, of a middle size and dark complexion, hiseyes are quick and piercing, and he has something in the form of hismouth which renders his appearance very particular. His understanding isof the first rate; and he has by no means suffered it to lie neglected. He was married, and has an only daughter, the wife of Signor Barbaggione of the first men in the island. 

For these many years past, Signor Clementi, being in a state ofwidowhood, has resided at Rostino, from whence the family of Paolicomes. He lives there in a very retired manner. He is of a Saturninedisposition, and his notions of religion are rather gloomy and severe. He spends his whole time in study, except what he passes at hisdevotions. These generally take up six or eight hours every day; duringall which time he is in church, and before the altar, in a fixedposture, with his hands and eyes lifted up to heaven, with solemnfervour. 

He prescribes to himself, an abstemious, rigid course of life; as if hehad taken the vows of some of the religious orders. He is much with theFranciscans, who have a convent at Rostino. He wears the common coarsedress of the country, and it is difficult to distinguish him from one ofthe lowest of the people. 

When he is in company he seldom speaks, and except upon importantoccasions, never goes into publick, or even to visit his brother atCorte. When danger calls, however, he is the first to appear in thedefence of his country. He is then foremost in the ranks, and exposeshimself to the hottest action; for religious fear is perfectlyconsistent with the greatest bravery; according to the famous line ofthe pious Racine, "Je crains DIEU, cher Abner; et n'ai point d'autre crainte. "

 "I fear my GOD; and Him alone I fear. "

 --A FRIEND. 

In the beginning of an engagement he is generally calm; and willfrequently offer up a prayer to heaven, for the person at whom he isgoing to fire; saying he is sorry to be under the necessity of deprivinghim of life; but that he is an enemy to Corsica, and Providence has senthim in his way, in order that he may be prevented from doing any farthermischief; that he hopes GOD will pardon his crimes, and take him tohimself. After he has seen two or three of his countrymen fall at hisside, the case alters. His eyes flame with grief and indignation, and hebecomes like one furious, dealing vengeance every where around him. 

His authority in the council is not less than his valour in the field. His strength of judgement and extent of knowledge, joined to thesingular sanctity of his character, give him great weight in all thepublick consultations; and his influence is of considerable service tohis brother the General. --Boswell's "Account of Corsica, " page 222. 

REVIEWS. 

DR. JOHNSON:

HIS FRIENDS AND HIS CRITICS. 

BY GEORGE BIRKBECK HILL, D. C. L. [159]

[Footnote 159: Smith, Elder, and Co. 1878]

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

"Seldom has a pleasanter commentary been written on a literarymasterpiece. .. . What its author has aimed at has been the reproductionof the atmosphere in which Johnson lived; and he has succeeded so wellthat we shall look with interest for other chapters of Johnsonianliterature which he promises. .. . Throughout the author of this pleasantvolume has spared no pains to enable the present generation to realisemore completely the sphere, so near and so far from this latter half ofthe nineteenth century, in which Johnson talked and taught. "--SATURDAYREVIEW, _July 13th, 1878_. 

"Dr. Hill has written out of his ripe scholarship several interestingdisquisitions, all tending to a better understanding of the man and histimes, and all written with the ease and the absence of pretence whichcome of long familiarity with a subject and complete mastery of itsfacts. "--THE EXAMINER, _July 27th, 1878_. 

"Dr. Hill has published a very interesting little book. .. . All thechapters are interesting in a high degree. "--WESTMINSTER REVIEW, _October, 1878_. 

"We think Dr. Hill has succeeded in bringing before his readers, vividlyand exactly, both the College of Johnson's youth and the University ofhis later years. .. . We think he clearly establishes that Boswell, Murphy, and Hawkins were all alike wrong in supposing that thecelebrated passage in Chesterfield's letters describing the 'respectableHottentot' refers to Johnson. .. . He devotes a chapter each to Langtonand Beauclerk, in which he gathers together the various scatteredreferences to them by Boswell and other biographers of Johnson andcombines them into admirable sketches of each of these friends ofJohnson. "--WESTMINSTER REVIEW, _January, 1879_. 

"With great industry Dr. Hill has illustrated the condition of Oxford asa University in the last century. .. . His first chapter . .. Embodies, ina lively and entertaining form, a highly instructive picture of theUniversity, the materials for which only laborious industry could havecollected. "--THE SPECTATOR, _August 17th, 1878_. 

"The glimpses which these essays give us of the great men of the days ofBurke, Reynolds, and Goldsmith, of Oxford, of London, and of thecountry, are as full of interest as the most powerful romance. Theopening paper on the Oxford of Johnson's time is one of the longest, best, and most original of the whole set. "--THE STANDARD, _August 12th, 1878_. 

"Dr. Hill is at his best in examining the views of Johnson's critics. Macaulay's rough and ready assertions are subjected to a searchingcriticism, and Mr. Carlyle's estimate of Johnson's position in Londonsociety in 1763, if not altogether destroyed, is severely damaged. "--THEACADEMY, _July 27th, 1878_. 

"Dr. Hill's book is, in fact, a supplement to Boswell, is brimful oforiginal and independent research, and displays so complete a mastery ofthe whole subject, that it must be regarded as only less essential to atrue understanding of Johnson's life and character than Boswellhimself. "--THE WORLD, _July 17th, 1878_. 

"Dr. Hill's 'Johnson: his Friends and his Critics' is a volume which noreader, however familiar with Boswell, will think superfluous. Itsmethod is, in the main, critical; and even so far it possesses strikingnovelty from the tendency of the writer's judgment to obviously justerestimates than those of previous critics, both friendly andunfriendly. "--THE DAILY NEWS, _August 24th, 1878_. 

"The charming papers . .. Now published by Dr. Hill, under the title of'Dr. Johnson: his Friends and his Critics, ' will be, to admirers of thegreat eighteenth century lexicographer, like the discovery of some newtreasure. .. . It is not too much to say that it is a volume which willhenceforth be indispensable to all who would form a full conception ofJohnson's many-sided personality. "--THE GRAPHIC, _August 3rd, 1878_. 

"Dr. Hill's work is certainly not the outcome of any sudden itch to giveforth a fresh estimate of the great lexicographer, but the result oflong and careful studies and researches; very natural indeed in a memberof Johnson's College at Oxford, Pembroke, but not such as any man, thatwas not gifted with the kind of genius which is patience, would beinclined to undertake. The first chapter, 'Oxford in Dr. Johnson'sTime, ' is one of the most admirable summaries of the kind we have everread--doubly admirable here, as forming so fitting and illustrative anintroduction to his work, which is very complete and thorough. "--THEBRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW, _October, 1878_. 

"Dr. Hill has produced an entertaining and instructive book, based oncareful and minute research, which has been prompted by keen interest inhis subject. The introductory sketch of Oxford in Johnson's time isadmirably executed. "--THE SCOTSMAN, _August 8th, 1878_. 

"Every reader who would be fully informed about the period of Englishliterature, and the men and women who then figured in society, must readDr. Hill's volume, or miss much that is essential to a fullcomprehension of it. "--THE NONCONFORMIST, _August 28th, 1878_. 

"This work is the result of long study, has been accomplished with careand diligence, and is not only in itself a piece of very pleasantreading, but tends to place before us, in a truer light than anythingthat has before been written, the character of a man who did so much forthe English language, and who deserves better than to be forgotten byhis countrymen. "--THE MORNING POST, _October 15th, 1878_.