Part 3

The “patriotic Knox,” as Boswell calls him, the author of _A Tour through the Highlands and Hebride Isles in 1786_, a man freer from prejudices than the common run, and one who readily acknowledged the merits of Johnson’s book, bears equal witness to the wrath of his countrymen.

“Dr. Johnson (he writes) set out under incurable impressions of a national prejudice, a religious prejudice, and a literary jealousy. From a writer of such abilities and such prejudices the natives of Scotland had reason to expect a shower of arrows without mercy, and it was possibly from this prepossession that they were ready to fall upon him as one man the moment that his book appeared. Their minds were charged with sentiments of indignity, resentment and revenge, which they did not fail to discharge upon his head in whole platoons from every quarter.”[27]

To us, who know Johnson better than we know any other author who has ever lived, the charge of literary jealousy seems ridiculous. But Knox lived before Boswell’s _Life_ was published. Scotland, in which learning and even literature had slumbered for nearly a century, had started up from her long sleep, and was bent on turning the Auld Reekie into the Modern Athens. All her geese were swans, though of swans she had at this season a fair flock. “Edinburgh is a hotbed of genius,” wrote Smollett, shortly before Johnson’s visit, and as a proof of it he instanced among “authors of the first distinction,” Wallace, Blair, Wilkie, and Ferguson. Hume still earlier had proclaimed that at last there was “a hope of seeing good tragedies in the English language,” for Johnny Home had written his _Douglas_. Wilkie of the _Epigoniad_, the great historian held, was to be the Homer, and Blacklock the Pindar, of Scotland.[28] But it was in Ossian Macpherson that the hopes of the country had at one time soared highest. By Dr. Blair, the Edinburgh Professor of Rhetoric, he had been ranked with Homer and Virgil.[29] The national pride, the honour of Scotland, was concerned, and the meanest motive was attributed to the man who had ventured to pronounce his poems an impudent forgery. Macpherson was a dangerous enemy. Against “the menaces of a ruffian” a thick cudgel might avail; but the secret arts of a literary forger were not so easily baffled. His position was one of great power, for from the Court he received a pension at first of £600 a year, and afterwards of £800, “to supervise the newspapers. He inserted what lies he pleased, and prevented whatever he disapproved of being printed.”[30] It was from this tainted source that no doubt sprang many of “the miserable cavillings against the _Journey_ in newspapers, magazines, and other fugitive pieces.”[31] These, as Boswell tells us, “only furnished Johnson with sport.” Nevertheless, though they did not trouble his mind, they marred the fame of his book, and prejudiced not only the immediate, but even the traditional judgment of Scotland. Enough dirt was thrown, and some of it did stick and sticks still. Lies were sent wandering through the land, and some of them have not even yet found their everlasting rest. One disgusting story, not unworthy of the inventive genius of Ossian himself, is still a solace to Scots of the baser sort. That it is a lie can be plainly proved, for it rests on a supposed constant suspicion in Johnson of the food provided for him. Now we know from his own writings that only twice in his tour had he “found any reason to complain of a Scottish table.”[32] Moreover, in his letters to Mrs. Thrale and in Boswell’s _Journal_, we can follow his course with great accuracy and minuteness. Had there been any foundation for this lie it must be found on the road between Inverness and the seashore. Now we know what meals he had at each station. Even in the miserable inn at Glenelg, where his accommodation was at its worst, if he had chosen he could have had mutton chops and freshly-killed poultry. Finding both too tough, he supped on a lemon and a piece of bread.

[Sidenote: M’NICOL’S SCURRILOUS VOLUME.]

The attacks of the angry critics, published as they were in fugitive pieces, might have been forgotten had they not been revived three or four years later in “a scurrilous volume,” as Boswell justly describes it, “larger than Johnson’s own, filled with malignant abuse under a name real or fictitious of some low man in an obscure corner of Scotland, though supposed to be the work of another Scotchman, who has found means to make himself well known both in Scotland and England.”[33] The “low man” was the Rev. Donald M’Nicol, and the “obscure corner” that long and pleasant island of Lismore which the steamers skirt every summer day as they pass with their load of tourists between Oban and the entrance of the Caledonian Canal. M’Nicol’s predecessor in the manse was the Rev. John Macaulay, whose famous grandson, Lord Macaulay, was to rebuke those “foolish and ignorant Scotchmen, who moved to anger by a little unpalatable truth which was mingled with much eulogy in the _Journey to the Western Islands_, assailed him whom they chose to consider as the enemy of their country with libels much more dishonourable to their country than anything that he had ever said or written.”[34] When Johnson was shown M’Nicol’s book he said: “This fellow must be a blockhead. They don’t know how to go about their abuse. Who will read a five shilling book against me? No, Sir, if they had wit, they should have kept pelting me with pamphlets.” The book, however, seems to have been widely read, and in the year 1817 was reprinted at Glasgow in a fine large type. A Scotch gentleman recently told me that he fears that to many of his countrymen Johnson’s tour is only known through M’Nicol’s attack.

[Sidenote: OSSIAN MACPHERSON.]

It was Macpherson at whom Boswell aimed a blow when he wrote of the “other Scotchman whose work it was supposed to be.” If Ossian had no hand in it himself, it was certainly written by someone fired with all his hatred of the man who had branded him as a forger. Johnson is described as “a man of some reputation for letters, whose master-passion was hatred of Scotland. When the _Poems of Ossian_ were published, and became the delight and admiration of the learned over all Europe, his cynical disposition instantly took the alarm.”[35] It was from this time that “we may date the origin of his intended tour to Scotland.” It was from malice that he started so late in the year—a malice, by the way, which nearly brought him to a watery grave. “It was not beauties he went to find out in Scotland, but defects; and for the northern situation of the Hebrides the advanced time of the year suited his purpose best.”[36] Johnson, with a discretion which other travellers in like circumstances would do well to imitate, had passed over Edinburgh with the remark that it is “a city too well known to admit description.” This wise reticence is twisted into a proof of malevolence. So, too, is the brevity with which he mentions Dundee. “We stopped awhile at Dundee,” he recorded, “where I remember nothing remarkable.”[37] Surely this is a very innocent sentence. Even Boswell, whose record was generally far fuller, dismisses this place with three words. “We saw Dundee,” he says.[38] But M’Nicol at once discovered the miserable jealousy of the Englishman. “He passes very rapidly through the town of Dundee, for fear, I suppose, of being obliged to take notice of its increasing trade.”[39] How delicately Johnson treated this town in his published narrative is shown by his description of it in his private letter to Mrs. Thrale. To her he had written: “We came to Dundee, a dirty despicable town.”[40] Much as M’Nicol belaboured Johnson, he could not refrain from claiming him as of Scotch origin. “We are much deceived by fame,” he wrote, “if a very near ancestor of his, who was a native of that country, did not find to his cost that a tree was not quite such a rarity in his days.”[41] This mysterious hero of the gallows was no doubt no Johnson at all, but a Johnston—of Ardnamurchan, probably, or of Glencroe.[42]

M’Nicol is ingenious in his treatment of the great Ossian controversy. “The poems,” he says, “must be the production either of Ossian or Mr. Macpherson. Dr. Johnson does not vouchsafe to tell us who else was the author, and consequently the national claim remains perfectly entire. The moment Mr. Macpherson ceases to be admitted as a translator, he instantly acquires a title to the original.”[43] Granted that he was a ruffian who had tried by menaces to hinder the detection of a cheat. What of that? He was a great original ruffian, and his cheat was a work of great original genius. So that Caledonia, if she had one forger the more, had not one poet the less. She made up in genius what she lost in character. But this Dr. Johnson failed to see, being, poor man, “naturally pompous and vain, and ridiculously ambitious of an exclusive reputation in letters.” It must have been this same pomposity, vanity, and ambition which led him to say of these poems: “Sir, a man might write such stuff for ever, if he would _abandon_ his mind to it.”[44]

That Johnson’s narrative should have roused resentment is not surprising. Even his friend Beattie, “much as he loved and revered him,” yet found in it “some asperities that seem to be the effect of national prejudice.”[45] That “this true-born Englishman,” as Boswell delights to call him, should have given a wholly unprejudiced account of any country not his own was an impossibility. As regards Scotland, the position which he took certainly admitted of justification. “When I find,” he said, “a Scotchman to whom an Englishman is as a Scotchman, that Scotchman shall be as an Englishman to me.”[46] Boswell, and perhaps Boswell alone, exactly answered this requirement, and the two men were fast friends. For many other Scotchmen, indeed, he had strong feelings of regard, and even of friendship—for Andrew Millar the bookseller, for William Strahan the printer, for Blair, Beattie, John Campbell, Hailes, and Robertson, among authors, and for his poor assistants in the great work of his Dictionary, who all came from across the Tweed. There was no want of individual affection, no John Bull disinclination that had to be overcome in the case of each fresh acquaintance which he made. His “was a prejudice of the head and not of the heart.”[47] He held that the Scotch, with that clannishness which is found in almost equal strength in the outlying parts of the whole island, in Cornwall and in Cumberland, achieved for themselves in England “a success which rather exceeded the due proportion of their real merit.”[48] Jesting with a friend from Ireland, who feared “he might treat the people of that country more unfavourably than he had done the Scotch,” he answered, “Sir, you have no reason to be afraid of me. The Irish are not in a conspiracy to cheat the world by false representations of the merits of their countrymen. No, Sir: the Irish are a _fair people_;—they never speak well of one another.”[49] To Boswell he began a letter, not meant, of course, for the public eye, by saying: “Knowing as you do the disposition of your countrymen to tell lies in favour of each other.”[50] When he came to write his _Journey_, he was led neither by timidity nor false delicacy to conceal what he thought. He attacks that “national combination so invidious that their friends cannot defend it,” which is one of the means whereby Scotchmen “find, or make their way to employment, riches, and distinction.”[51] He upbraids that “vigilance of jealousy which never goes to sleep,”[52] which sometimes led them to cross the borders of boastfulness and pass into falsehood, when Caledonia was their subject and Englishmen their audience. “A Scotchman,” he writes, “must be a very sturdy moralist who does not love Scotland better than truth; he will always love it better than inquiry.”[53] Even in his talk when among Scotchmen he was inclined “to expatiate rather too strongly upon the benefits derived to their country from the Union.”[54] “‘We have taught you,’ said he, ‘and we’ll do the same in time to all barbarous nations, to the Cherokees, and at last to the Ouran-Outangs,’ laughing with as much glee as if Monboddo had been present. BOSWELL. ‘We had wine before the Union.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir; you had some weak stuff, the refuse of France, which would not make you drunk.’ BOSWELL. ‘I assure you, Sir, there was a great deal of drunkenness.’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Sir; there were people who died of dropsies, which they contracted in trying to get drunk.’”[55]

[Sidenote: ATTACKS ON THE HIGHLANDERS.]

Such pleasantry as this could hardly have given offence to anyone into whose skull a jest could penetrate by any operation short of a surgical one. But it was a very different matter when the spoken jest passed into a serious expression of opinion in print. All the theoretic philosophy of which Scotland justly boasts was hardly sufficient to support with patience such a passage as the following: “Till the Union made the Scots acquainted with English manners the culture of their lands was unskilful, and their domestic life unformed; their tables were coarse as the feasts of Esquimaux, and their houses filthy as the cottages of Hottentots.”[56] His attacks on the Highlanders would have been read with patience, if not with pleasure, in Lowland circles. “His account of the Isles,” wrote Beattie, “is, I dare say, very just. I never was there.”[57] These were not the “asperities” of which that amiable poet complained. Yet they were asperities which might have provoked an incensed Highlander to give the author “a crack on his skull,” had he looked not to the general tenour of the narrative, but to a few rough passages scattered up and down. M’Nicol would surely have roused the anger of his countrymen to a fiercer heat had he forborne to falsify Johnson’s words, and strung together instead a row of his sarcastic sayings. The offensive passages are not indeed numerous, but out of such a collection as the following irritation enough might have been provided: “the genuine improvidence of savages;”[58] “a muddy mixture of pride and ignorance;”[59] “the chiefs gradually degenerating from patriarchal rulers to rapacious landlords;”[60] “the animating rabble”[61] by which of old a chief was attended; “the rude speech of a barbarous people;”[62] “the laxity of their conversation, by which the inquirer, by a kind of intellectual retrogradation, knows less as he hears more;”[63] “the Caledonian bigotry” which helps “an inaccurate auditor” to believe in the genuineness of Ossian.[64]

To the sarcasms which had their foundation in Johnson’s dislike of Presbyterianism Lowlanders and Highlanders were equally exposed. On Knox and “the ruffians of reformation”[65] he has no mercy. It is true that he maintains that “we read with as little emotion the violence of Knox and his followers as the irruptions of Alaric and the Goths.”[66] But how deeply he was moved Boswell shows, where he describes him among the ruins of the once glorious magnificence of St. Andrews. “I happened to ask where John Knox was buried. Dr. Johnson burst out, ‘I hope in the high-way. I have been looking at his reformations.’”[67] The sight of the ruined houses of prayer in Skye drew from him the assertion that “the malignant influence of Calvinism has blasted ceremony and decency together.”[68] In another passage he describes the ancient “epidemical enthusiasm compounded of sullen scrupulousness and warlike ferocity, which, in a people whom idleness resigned to their own thoughts, was long transmitted in its full strength from the old to the young.”[69] Even for this inveterate ill a cure had at length been found. “By trade and intercourse with England it is visibly abating.”

[Sidenote: THE TOUR TO THE WESTERN ISLES.]

By the passages in which he described the bareness of the eastern coast the most irritation was caused. The very hedges were of stone, and not a tree was to be seen that was not younger than himself. “A tree might be a show in Scotland as a horse in Venice.”[70] For this he was handled as roughly as Joseph’s brethren. He was little better than a spy who had come to see the nakedness of the land. The Scotchmen of that day could not know, as we know now, that “he treated Scotland no worse than he did even his best friends, whose characters he used to give as they appeared to him both in light and shade. ‘He was fond of discrimination,’ said Sir Joshua Reynolds, ‘which he could not show without pointing out the bad as well as the good in every character.’”[71] If in his narrative he has not spared the shade, every fair-minded reader must allow that he has not been sparing of the light. John Wesley, who had often travelled over the same ground as far as Inverness, on May 18, 1776, recorded in his Journal at Aberdeen: “I read over Dr. Johnson’s _Tour to the Western Isles_. It is a very curious book, wrote with admirable sense, and, I think, great fidelity; although in some respects he is thought to bear hard on the nation, which I am satisfied he never intended.”[72]

[Sidenote: JOHNSON’S COMPLIMENTS TO THE SCOTCH.]

That Johnson was not careless of the good opinion of the Scotch is shown by his eagerness to learn what Boswell had to tell him about the book. “Let me know as fast as you read it how you like it; and let me know if any mistake is committed, or anything important left out.”[73] A week later he wrote: “I long to hear how you like the book; it is, I think, much liked here.” The modesty of the closing passage of his narrative should have done something towards disarming criticism. “Having passed my time almost wholly in cities, I may have been surprised by modes of life and appearances of nature that are familiar to men of wider survey and more varied conversation. Novelty and ignorance must always be reciprocal, and I cannot but be conscious that my thoughts on national manners are the thoughts of one who has seen but little.”[74] The compliment which he paid to the society of the capital must surely have won some hearts. “I passed some days in Edinburgh,” he wrote, “with men of learning whose names want no advancement from my commemoration, or with women of elegance, which perhaps disclaims a pedant’s praise.”[75] He never lets slip an opportunity of gracefully acknowledging civilities and acts of kindness, or of celebrating worth and learning. As he closed his book, so he had opened it with a well-turned compliment. It was, he said, Boswell’s “acuteness and gaiety of conversation and civility of manners which induced him to undertake the journey.”[76] He praises the kindness with which he was gratified by the professors of St. Andrews, and “the elegance of lettered hospitality” with which he was entertained.[77] At Aberdeen the same grateful heart is seen. Among the professors he found one whom he had known twenty years earlier in London. “Such unexpected renewals of acquaintance may be numbered among the most pleasing incidents of life. The knowledge of one professor soon procured me the notice of the rest, and I did not want any token of regard.”[78] He had the freedom of the city conferred upon him. In acknowledging the honour he compliments the town at the expense of England, by mentioning a circumstance which, he says, “I am afraid I should not have had to say of any city south of the Tweed; I found no petty officer bowing for a fee.”[79] With Lord Monboddo he was never on friendly terms. “I knew that they did not love each other,” writes Boswell, with a studied softness of expression. Yet Johnson in his narrative praises “the magnetism of his conversation.”[80] With Lord Auchinleck he had that violent altercation which the unfortunate piety of the son forbade the biographer to exhibit for the entertainment of the public. Nevertheless, he only mentions his antagonist to compliment him.[81] If he attacked Presbyterianism, yet to the Presbyterian ministers in the Hebrides he was unsparing of his praise. He celebrates their learning, which was the more admirable as they were men “who had no motive to study but generous curiosity or desire of usefulness.”[82] However much he differed from “the learned Mr. Macqueen” about Ossian, yet he admits that “his knowledge and politeness give him a title equally to kindness and respect.”[83] With the aged minister of Col he had a wrangle over Bayle, and Clarke, and Leibnitz. “Had he been softer with this venerable old man,” writes Boswell, “we might have had more conversation.”[84] This rebuke Johnson read in Boswell’s manuscript. The amends which he makes is surely ample. He describes the minister’s “look of venerable dignity, excelling what I remember in any other man. I lost some of his goodwill by treating a heretical writer with more regard than in his opinion a heretic could deserve. I honoured his orthodoxy, and did not much censure his asperity. A man who has settled his opinions does not love to have the tranquillity of his conviction disturbed; and at seventy-seven it is time to be in earnest.”[85]

[A] See Appendix. [Transcriber’s note: The illustration is of the letter which is transcribed in Appendix A.]

[Sidenote: JOHNSON NO GRUMBLER.]