My King’s in Westmoreland.”
At the close of the first edition of Boswell’s Tour to the Hebrides, appeared the following advertisement:—
“Preparing for the Press, in one volume quarto,
The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D.
By James Boswell, Esq.
“Mr. Boswell has been collecting materials for this work for more than twenty years, during which he was honoured with the intimate friendship of Dr. Johnson; to whose memory he is ambitious to erect a literary monument, worthy of so great an authour, and so excellent a man. Dr. Johnson was well informed of his design, and obligingly communicated to him several curious particulars. With these will be interwoven the most authentick accounts that can be obtained from those who knew him best; many sketches of his conversation on a multiplicity of subjects, with various persons, some of them the most eminent of the age; a great number of letters from him at different periods, and several original pieces dictated by him to Mr. Boswell, distinguished by that peculiar energy which marked every emanation of his mind.”
This advertisement, more befitting the announcement of a play than the memoir of a moralist, did not escape the witty criticism of the sarcastic Pindar. In a postscript to his “Poetical Epistle” he has thus written:—
“As Mr. Boswell’s ‘Journal’ hath afforded such universal pleasure, by the relation of minute incidents and the great moralist’s opinion of men and things during his northern tour, it will be adding greatly to the anecdotical treasury, as well as making Mr. B. happy, to communicate part of a dialogue that took place between Dr. Johnson and the author of this congratulatory epistle, a few months before the Doctor paid the great debt of nature. The Doctor was very cheerful that day, had on a black coat and waistcoat, a black plush pair of breeches, and black worsted stockings, a handsome grey wig, a shirt, a muslin neckcloth, a black pair of buttons in his shirt-sleeves, a pair of shoes ornamented with the very identical little buckles that accompanied the philosopher to the Hebrides; his nails were very neatly pared, and his beard fresh shaved with a razor fabricated by the ingenious Mr. Savigny.
“P. P.: ‘Pray, Doctor, what is your opinion of Mr. Boswell’s literary powers?’
“Johnson: ‘Sir, my opinion is, that whenever Bozzy expires, he will create no vacuum in the region of literature—he seems strongly affected by the cacoëches scribendi; wishes to be thought a rara avis, and in truth so he is—your knowledge in ornithology, sir, will easily discover to what species of bird I allude.’ Here the Doctor shook his head and laughed.
“P. P.: ‘What think you, sir, of his account of Corsica?—of his character of Paoli?’
“Johnson: ‘Sir, he hath made a mountain of a wart. But Paoli hath virtues. The account is a farrago of disgusting egotism and pompous inanity.’