reaches you, I shall be considerably advanced on my way. As it is yet prudent to keep at a respectful distance from the banks of the French Rhine, I shall incline a little to the right, and proceed by Schaffousen and Stutgard to Frankfort and Cologne: the Austrian Netherlands are now open and safe, and I am sure of being able at least to pass from Ostend to Dover; whence, without passing through London, I shall pursue the direct road to Sheffield Place. Unless I should meet with some unforeseen accidents and delays, I hope, before the end of the month to share your solitude, and sympathize with your grief. All the difficulties of the journey, which my indolence had probably magnified, have now disappeared before a stronger passion; and you will not be sorry to hear, that, as far as Frankfort to Cologne, I shall enjoy the advantage of the society, the conversation, the German language, and the active assistance of Severy. His attachment to me is the sole motive which prompts him to undertake this troublesome journey; and as soon as he has seen me over the roughest ground he will immedi ately return to Lausanne. The poor young man loved Lady S. as a mother, and the whole family is deeply affected by an event which reminds them too painfully of their own misfortune. Adieu. I could write volumes, and shall therefore break off abruptly. I shall write on the road, and hope to find a few lines à poste restante at Frankfort and Brussels. Adieu; ever yours. CXCVIII. During the tour to the Hebrides with Dr. Johnson, Boswell wrote the following interesting letter to David Garrick, which, to use the great actor's own words, ' made me half mad.' James Boswell to David Garrick. Inverness: August 29, 1773. My dear Sir,-Here I am, and Mr. Samuel Johnson actually with me. We were a night at Fores, in coming to which, in the dusk of the evening, we passed over the bleak and blasted heath where Macbeth met the witches. Your old preceptor repeated, with much solemnity, the speech, 'How far is't called to Fores? What are these, so withered and so wild in their attire.' This day we visited the ruins of Macbeth's castle at Inverness. I have had great romantic satisfaction in seeing Johnson upon the classical scenes of Shakspeare in Scotland; which I really looked upon as almost as improbable as that 'Birnam Wood should come to Dunsinane.' Indeed, as I have always been accustomed to view him as a permanent London object, it would not be much more wonderful to me to see St. Paul's church moving along where we now are. As yet we have travelled in post-chaises; but to-morrow we are to mount on horseback, and ascend into the mountains by Fort Augustus, and so on to the ferry, where we are to cross to Skye. We shall see that island fully, and then visit some more of the Hebrides; after which we are to land in Argyleshire, proceed by Glasgow to Auchinleck, repose there a competent time, and then return to Edinburgh, from whence the Rambler will depart for old England again, as soon as he finds it convenient. Hitherto we have had a very prosperous expedition. I flatter myself, servetur ad imum, qualis ab incepto processerit. He is in excellent spirits, and I have a rich journal of his conversation. Look back, Davy, to Lichfield; run up through the time that has elapsed since you first knew Mr. Johnson, and enjoy with me his present extraordinary tour. I could not resist the impulse of writing to you from this place. The situation of the old castle corresponds exactly to Shakspeare's description. While we were there to-day, it happened oddly that a raven perched upon one of the chimney-tops, and croaked. Then I in my turn repeated The raven himself is hoarse, That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan I wish you had been with us. Think what an enthusiastic happiness I shall have to see Mr. Samuel Johnson walking among the romantic rocks and woods of my ancestors at Auchinleck. Write to me at Edinburgh. You owe me his verses on great George and tuneful Cibber, and the bad verses which led him to make his fine ones on Philips the musician. Keep your promise, and let me have them. I offer my very best compliments to Mrs. Garrick, and ever am your warm admirer and friend. JAMES BOSWELL. CXCIX. Boswell's passion for notoriety, even at the expense of pub- He had not yet made the acquaintance of his future idol, Dr. Andrew Erskine to James Boswell. New Tarbat: November 23, 1761. Dear Boswell,—As we never bear that Demosthenes could broil beefsteaks, or Cicero poach eggs, we may safely conclude that these gentlemen understood nothing of cookery. In like manner, it may be concluded that you, James Boswell, and I, Andrew Erskine, cannot write serious epistles. This, as Mr. Tristram says, I deny; for this letter of mine shall contain the quintessence of solidity; it shall be a piece of boiled beef and cabbage, a roasted goose, and a boiled leg of pork and greens: in one word, it shall contain advice, sage and mature advice. Oh, James Boswell ! take care and don't break your neck, pray don't fracture your skull, and be very cautious in your manner of tumbling down precipices; beware of falling into coalpits, and don't drown yourself in every pool you meet with. Having thus warned you of the most material dangers which your youth and inexperience will be ready to lead you into, I now proceed to others less momentary indeed, but very necessary to be strictly observed. Go not near the soaping Club; never mention Drury Lane playhouse; be attentive to those pinchbeck buckles which fortune has so graciously given you, of which I am afraid you'r hardly fond enough;1 never wash your face, but above all forswear poetry; from experience I can assure you, and this letter may serve as a proof, that a man may be as dull in prose as in verse; and as dullness is what we aim at, prose is the easiest of the two. Oh, my friend, profit by these my instructions, think that you see me studying for your advantage, my reverend locks overshadowing my paper, my hands trembling, and my tongue hanging out, a figure of esteem, affection, and veneration. By heavens, Boswell! I love 1 Boswell was a great dandy in his youth. you more in rhyme. -but this I think may be more conveniently expressed More than a herd of swine a kennel muddy, I begin to be afraid that we shall not see you here this winter, which will be a great loss to you. If ever you travel into foreign parts, as Machiavel used to say, everybody abroad will require a description of New Tarbat from you. That you may not appear totally ridiculous and absurd, I shall send you some little account of it. Imagine then to yourself what Thomson would call an interminable plain, interspersed in a lovely manner with beautiful green hills. The seasons here are only shifted by summer and spring. Winter with his fur cap and his cat-skin gloves, was never seen in this charming retreat. The castle is of Gothic structure, awful and lofty; there are fifty bedchambers in it, with halls, saloons, and galleries without number. Mr. M's father, who was a man of infinite humour, caused a magnificent lake to be made, just before the entry of the house. His diversion was to peep out of his window, and see the people who came to visit him skipping through it, for there was no other passage; then he used to put on such huge fires to dry their clothes that there was no bearing them. He used to declare that he never thought a man good company till he was half-drowned and halfburnt; but if in any part of his life he had narrowly escaped hanging (a thing not uncommon in the Highlands) he would perfectly doat upon him, and whenever the story was told him he was ready to choke himself. But to return. Everything here is in the grand and sublime style. But, alas! some envious magician with his d-d enchantments, has destroyed all these beauties. By his potent art the house with so many bedchambers in it cannot conveniently lodge above a dozen people. The room which I am writing in just now is in reality a handsome parlour of twenty feet by sixteen, though in my eyes and to all outward appearance it seems a garret of six feet by four. The magnificent lake is a dirty puddle, the lovely plain a rude, wild country covered with the most astonishing high black mountains; the inhabitants, the most amiable race under the sun, appear now to be the ugliest, and look as if they were overrun with the itch their delicate limbs, adorned with finest silk stockings, are now bare and very dirty; but to describe all the transformations would take up more paper than Lady B———, from whom I had this, would choose to give me. My own metamorphosis is indeed so extraordinary that I must make you acquainted 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 is safe? Even you, Boswell, may feel a change. Your fair and transparent complexion may turn black and oily, your person little and squat, and who knows but you may eternally rave about the King of Great Britain's Guards,' -a species of mad ness from which good Lord deliver us! 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 it very melodiously, I can tell you. Corelli's solo of Maggie Lauder,' and Pergolesi's sonata of The Carle he came o'er the Craft,' are excellently adapted to that instrument. Let me advise you to learn it. The first cost is but three halfpence, and they last a long time. Having thus, Boswell, written you a most entertaining letter, with which you are highly pleased, to your great grief I give over, in these or the like words, Your affectionate friend ANDREW ERSKINE. CC. The original body of the Royal Academy contained two women, the famous Angelica Kaufmann, and Mary Moser, whose flower pieces were as much admired in her own day as those of Van Huvsum. The latter of these ladies fancied herself in love with Fuseli, the painter; and it was on the occasion of his visit to Italy that she sent him this lively and coquettish epistle interesting from its casual notice of many eminent persons, and from the idea it gives us of a Royal Academy Exhibition more than a hundred years ago. 1 Boswell relinquished the idea of 'going into the Guards' after the Duke of Argyll had expressed the opinion that the youth ought not to be shot at for three and sixpence a day. Z |