The full force of Lord Auchinleck’s contempt is only seen when we understand the position of a dominie. The character of a schoolmaster, generally, according to Johnson, was less honourable in Scotland than in England.[792] But the dominie, or tutor in a family, was still less esteemed. “He was raised,” writes Sir Walter Scott, “from a humble class to a society where, whatever his personal attainments might be, he found himself placed at a humiliating distance from anything like a footing of equality. His remuneration was scanty in the extreme, and consisting (as if to fill up the measure of his dependence) not entirely of a fixed salary, but partly of the precarious prospect of future preferment in the Church. The Scotch dominie was assuredly one of the most pitiable of human beings.”[793] It is a curious and perhaps a somewhat suspicious fact, that a very few years before Sir Walter supplied Mr. Croker with this amusing story about the old judge, he had put on record in the pages of the Quarterly Review the following anecdote: “When the old Scots judge Lord Auchinleck first heard of Johnson’s coming to visit him at his rural castellum, he held up his hands in astonishment, and cried out, ‘Our Jeemy’s clean aff the hooks now! would ony body believe it? he’s bringing down a dominie wi’ him—an auld dominie.’”[794] This looks like a different version of the same story. Moreover, Boswell tells us that his father had desired him to invite him to his house. When Johnson called his school at Lichfield an academy, he does not seem to have used the term pretentiously, for in his Dictionary he defines the word under one of its meanings as “a place of education in contradistinction to the universities or public schools.” It does not seem likely, moreover, that Lord Auchinleck had any feeling of contempt for Pascal Paoli, a man of good family, who for years had headed a rebellion against the tyranny first of Genoa and afterwards of France. He had visited Auchinleck two years before Johnson, and had been well received. Boswell, writing to Garrick on September 18, 1771, said: “I have just been enjoying the very great happiness of a visit from my illustrious friend, Pascal Paoli. He was two nights at Auchinleck, and you may figure the joy of my worthy father and me at seeing the Corsican hero in our romantic groves. Count Burgynski, the Polish ambassador, accompanied him.”[795] Poland’s days of sending ambassadors had nearly drawn to an end, for the first partition of the country was made in the following year. It was a strange chance which brought the last Corsican patriot and the last Polish ambassador to this Ayrshire mansion. One thing only was wanting. Would that Burns that day had played truant and had wandered up “Lugar’s winding stream” as far as Auchinleck! It would, indeed, have formed an interesting group—the stiff old Scotch judge and his famous son, the great Corsican patriot and the Pole, with the peasant-lad gazing at them with his eyes full of beauty and wonder. Paoli’s name is well-nigh forgotten now, but he and his Corsicans deeply stirred the hearts of our forefathers. Boswell, by a private subscription in Scotland, had sent out to him in one week £700 worth of ordnance—“a tolerable train of artillery.”[796] His account of his tour in that island had been widely read. Even his father “was rather fond of it. ‘James,’ he said, ‘had taken a tout on a new horn.’”[797] Whether Lord Auchinleck abused Paoli “as a land-louping scoundrel of a Corsican,” or admired him as he admired other great patriots, the rest of Sir Walter Scott’s account of the great altercation may be true enough:
THE “LITH” IN THE NECKS OF KINGS.
“The controversy between Tory and Covenanter raged with great fury, and ended in Johnson’s pressing upon the old judge the question, what good Cromwell, of whom he had said something derogatory, had ever done to his country; when, after being much tortured, Lord Auchinleck at last spoke out, ‘God, Doctor! he gart kings ken that they had a lith in their neck’—he taught kings they had a joint in their necks.”
This story did not, I believe, appear in print till the year 1831, when it was given as a note by Scott in Mr. Croker’s edition of Boswell. Fifty years earlier it had been told in somewhat different words of Quin the player, who had said that “on a thirtieth of January every king in Europe would rise with a crick in his neck.” Davies, who records the anecdote, says that it had been attributed to Voltaire, but unjustly.[798] It is possible, and even not unlikely, that we have but a Scotch version of an English saying. Cromwell himself, in his letter to the governor of Edinburgh Castle, had shown that he too saw this consequence of his great deed. “The civil authority,” he writes, “turned out a Tyrant in a way which the Christians in aftertimes will mention with honour, and all Tyrants in the world look at with fear.”[799]
In one happy though impudent retort, Lord Auchinleck was very successful.
DURHAM ON THE GALATIANS.
“Dr. Johnson challenged him (writes Boswell) to point out any theological works of merit written by Presbyterian ministers in Scotland. My father, whose studies did not lie much in that way, owned to me afterwards, that he was somewhat at a loss how to answer, but that luckily he recollected having read in catalogues the title of Durham on the Galatians; upon which he boldly said, ‘Pray, Sir, have your read Mr. Durham’s excellent commentary on the Galatians?’ ‘No, Sir,’ said Dr. Johnson. By this lucky thought my father kept him at bay, and for some time enjoyed his triumph; but his antagonist soon made a retort, which I forbear to mention.”
In the long list of Durham’s theological works in the British Museum catalogue I find no mention of this book on the Galatians. The old judge, it is clear, had not forgotten in the years which he had sat on the bench the arts of the advocate. In Rowlandson’s Caricatures there is a humorous picture of The Contest at Auchinleck. Johnson is drawn felling his opponent with a huge liturgy, having made him drop two books equally big, entitled Calvin and Whiggism. On the floor are lying the medals over which the dispute had begun, while Boswell is at the door in an attitude of despair, with his Journal falling from his hands.
One figure was wanting to make the picture complete. Of the three topics on which Johnson had been warned not to touch only two had been introduced. “In the course of their altercation,” writes Boswell, “Whiggism and Presbyterianism, Toryism and Episcopacy, were terribly buffeted. My worthy hereditary friend, Sir John Pringle, never having been mentioned, happily escaped without a bruise.” We could have wished that he had been mentioned, for though we know of the dislike which existed between the two men, yet as he has never “hitched” in one of Johnson’s strong sayings, he has scarcely attained that fame which he deserved.