Complete works of samuel.., p.848
Complete Works of Samuel Johnson, page 848
After breakfast, Dr. Johnson and I, and Joseph, mounted horses, and Col and the Captain walked with us about a short mile across the island. We paid a visit to the Reverend Mr. Hector M’Lean. His parish consists of the islands of Col and Tyr-yi. He was about seventy-seven years of age, a decent ecclesiastick, dressed in a full suit of black clothes, and a black wig. He appeared like a Dutch pastor, or one of the assembly of divines at Westminster. Dr. Johnson observed to me afterwards, ‘that he was a fine old man, and was as well-dressed, and had as much dignity in his appearance as the dean of a cathedral.’ We were told, that he had a valuable library, though but poor accommodation for it, being obliged to keep his books in large chests. It was curious to see him and Dr. Johnson together. Neither of them heard very distinctly; so each of them talked in his own way, and at the same time. Mr. M’Lean said, he had a confutation of Bayle, by Leibnitz. JOHNSON. ‘A confutation of Bayle, Sir! What part of Bayle do you mean? The greatest part of his writings is not confutable: it is historical and critical.’ Mr. M’Lean said, ‘the irreligious part;’ and proceeded to talk of Leibnitz’s controversy with Clarke, calling Leibnitz a great man. JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, Leibnitz persisted in affirming that Newton called space sensorium numinis, notwithstanding he was corrected, and desired to observe that Newton’s words were QUASI sensorium numinis. No, Sir; Leibnitz was as paltry a fellow as I know. Out of respect to Queen Caroline, who patronised him, Clarke treated him too well.’ During the time that Dr. Johnson was thus going on, the old minister was standing with his back to the fire, cresting up erect, pulling down the front of his periwig, and talking what a great man Leibnitz was. To give an idea of the scene, would require a page with two columns; but it ought rather to be represented by two good players. The old gentleman said, Clarke was very wicked, for going so much into the Arian system. ‘I will not say he was wicked, said Dr. Johnson; he might be mistaken.’ M’LEAN. ‘He was wicked, to shut his eyes against the Scriptures; and worthy men in England have since confuted him to all intents and purposes.’ JOHNSON. ‘I know not who has confuted him to all intents and purposes.’ Here again there was a double talking, each continuing to maintain his own argument, without hearing exactly what the other said.
I regretted that Dr. Johnson did not practice the art of accommodating himself to different sorts of people. Had he been softer with this venerable old man, we might have had more conversation; but his forcible spirit, and impetuosity of manner, may be said to spare neither sex nor age. I have seen even Mrs. Thrale stunned; but I have often maintained, that it is better he should retain his own manner. Pliability of address I conceive to be inconsistent with that majestick power of mind which he possesses, and which produces such noble effects. A lofty oak will not bend like a supple willow.
He told me afterwards, he liked firmness in an old man, and was pleased to see Mr. M’Lean so orthodox. ‘At his age, it is too late for a man to be asking himself questions as to his belief.’ We rode to the northern part of the island, where we saw the ruins of a church or chapel. We then proceeded to a place called Grissipol, or the rough Pool.
At Grissipol we found a good farm house, belonging to the Laird of Col, and possessed by Mr. M’Sweyn. On the beach here there is a singular variety of curious stones. I picked up one very like a small cucumber. By the by, Dr. Johnson told me, that Gay’s line in The Beggars Opera, ‘As men should serve a cucumber,’ &c. has no waggish meaning, with reference to men flinging away cucumbers as too cooling, which some have thought; for it has been a common saying of physicians in England, that a cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing. Mr. M’Sweyn’s predecessors had been in Sky from a very remote period, upon the estate belonging to M’Leod; probably before M’Leod had it The name is certainly Norwegian, from Sueno, King of Norway. The present Mr. M’Sweyn left Sky upon the late M’Leod’s raising his rents. He then got this farm from Col.
He appeared to be near fourscore; but looked as fresh, and was as strong as a man of fifty. His son Hugh looked older; and, as Dr. Johnson observed, had more the manners of an old man than he. I had often heard of such instances, but never saw one before. Mrs. M’Sweyn was a decent old gentlewoman. She was dressed in tartan, and could speak nothing but Erse. She said, she taught Sir James M’Donald Erse, and would teach me soon. I could now sing a verse of the song Hatyin foam’eri, made in honour of Allan, the famous Captain of Clanranald, who fell at Sherrif-muir; whose servant, who lay on the field watching his master’s dead body, being asked next day who that was, answered, ‘He was a man yesterday.’
We were entertained here with a primitive heartiness. Whiskey was served round in a shell, according to the ancient Highland custom. Dr. Johnson would not partake of it; but, being desirous to do honour to the modes ‘of other times,’ drank some water out of the shell.
In the forenoon Dr. Johnson said, ‘it would require great resignation to live in one of these islands.’ BOSWELL. ‘I don’t know, Sir; I have felt myself at times in a state of almost mere physical existence, satisfied to eat, drink, and sleep, and walk about, and enjoy my own thoughts; and I can figure a continuation of this.’ JOHNSON. ‘Ay, Sir; but if you were shut up here, your own thoughts would torment you. You would think of Edinburgh or London, and that you could not be there.’
We set out after dinner for Breacacha, the family seat of the Laird of Col, accompanied by the young laird, who had now got a horse, and by the younger Mr. M’Sweyn, whose wife had gone thither before us, to prepare every thing for our reception, the laird and his family being absent at Aberdeen. It is called Breacacha, or the Spotted Field, because in summer it is enamelled with clover and daisies, as young Col told me. We passed by a place where there is a very large stone, I may call it a rock;— ‘a vast weight for Ajax.’ The tradition is, that a giant threw such another stone at his mistress, up to the top of a hill, at a small distance; and that she in return, threw this mass down to him. It was all in sport.
‘Malo me petit lasciva puella.’
As we advanced, we came to a large extent of plain ground. I had not seen such a place for a long time. Col and I took a gallop upon it by way of race. It was very refreshing to me, after having been so long taking short steps in hilly countries. It was like stretching a man’s legs after being cramped in a short bed. We also passed close by a large extent of sand-hills, near two miles square. Dr. Johnson said, ‘he never had the image before. It was horrible, if barrenness and danger could be so.’ I heard him, after we were in the house of Breacacha, repeating to himself, as he walked about the room,
‘And smother’d in the dusty whirlwind, dies.’
Probably he had been thinking of the whole of the simile in Cato, of which that is the concluding line; the sandy desart had struck him so strongly. The sand has of late been blown over a good deal of meadow, and the people of the island say, that their fathers remembered much of the space which is now covered with sand, to have been under tillage. Col’s house is situated on a bay called Breacacha Bay. We found here a neat new-built gentleman’s house, better than any we had been in since we were at Lord Errol’s. Dr. Johnson relished it much at first, but soon remarked to me, that ‘there was nothing becoming a Chief about it: it was a mere tradesman’s box.’ He seemed quite at home, and no longer found any difficulty in using the Highland address; for as soon as we arrived, he said, with a spirited familiarity, ‘Now, Col, if you could get us a dish of tea.’ Dr. Johnson and I had each an excellent bed-chamber. We had a dispute which of us had the best curtains. His were rather the best, being of linen; but I insisted that my bed had the best posts, which was undeniable. ‘Well, (said he,) if you have the best posts, we will have you tied to them and whipped.’ I mention this slight circumstance, only to shew how ready he is, even in mere trifles, to get the better of his antagonist, by placing him in a ludicrous view. I have known him sometimes use the same art, when hard pressed in serious disputation. Goldsmith, I remember, to retaliate for many a severe defeat which he has suffered from him, applied to him a lively saying in one of Cibber’s comedies, which puts this part of his character in a strong light.— ‘There is no arguing with Johnson; for, if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.’
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 6.
After a sufficiency of sleep, we assembled at breakfast. We were just as if in barracks. Every body was master. We went and viewed the old castle of Col, which is not far from the present house, near the shore, and founded on a rock. It has never been a large feudal residence, and has nothing about it that requires a particular description. Like other old inconvenient buildings of the same age, it exemplified Gray’s picturesque lines,
‘Huge windows that exclude the light,
And passages that lead to nothing.’
It may however be worth mentioning, that on the second story we saw a vault, which was, and still is, the family prison. There was a woman put into it by the laird, for theft, within these ten years; and any offender would be confined there yet; for, from the necessity of the thing, as the island is remote from any power established by law, the laird must exercise his jurisdiction to a certain degree.
We were shewn, in a corner of this vault, a hole, into which Col said greater criminals used to be put. It was now filled up with rubbish of different kinds. He said, it was of a great depth, ‘Ay, (said Dr. Johnson, smiling,) all such places, that are filled up, were of a great depth.’ He is very quick in shewing that he does not give credit to careless or exaggerated accounts of things. After seeing the castle, we looked at a small hut near it. It is called Teigh Franchich, i.e. the Frenchman’s House. Col could not tell us the history of it. A poor man with a wife and children now lived in it. We went into it, and Dr. Johnson gave them some charity. There was but one bed for all the family, and the hut was very smoky. When he came out, he said to me, ‘Et hoc secundum sententiam philosophorum est esse beatus.’ BOSWELL. ‘The philosophers, when they placed happiness in a cottage, supposed cleanliness and no smoke.’ JOHNSON. ‘Sir, they did not think about either.’
We walked a little in the laird’s garden, in which endeavours have been used to rear some trees; but, as soon as they got above the surrounding wall, they died. Dr. Johnson recommended sowing the seeds of hardy trees, instead of planting.
Col and I rode out this morning, and viewed a part of the island. In the course of our ride, we saw a turnip-field, which he had hoed with his own hands. He first introduced this kind of husbandry into the Western islands. We also looked at an appearance of lead, which seemed very promising. It has been long known; for I found letters to the late laird, from Sir John Areskine and Sir Alexander Murray, respecting it.
After dinner came Mr. M’Lean, of Corneck, brother to Isle of Muck, who is a cadet of the family of Col. He possesses the two ends of Col, which belong to the Duke of Argyll. Corneck had lately taken a lease of them at a very advanced rent, rather than let the Campbells get a footing in the island, one of whom had offered nearly as much as he. Dr. Johnson well observed, that, ‘landlords err much when they calculate merely what their land may yield. The rent must be in a proportionate ratio of what the land may yield, and of the power of the tenant to make it yield. A tenant cannot make by his land, but according to the corn and cattle which he has. Suppose you should give him twice as much land as he has, it does him no good, unless he gets also more stock. It is clear then, that the Highland landlords, who let their substantial tenants leave them, are infatuated; for the poor small tenants cannot give them good rents, from the very nature of things. They have not the means of raising more from their farms.’ Corneck, Dr. Johnson said, was the most distinct man that he had met with in these isles: he did not shut his eyes, or put his fingers in his ears, which he seemed to think was a good deal the mode with most of the people whom we have seen of late.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7.
Captain M’Lean joined us this morning at breakfast. There came on a dreadful storm of wind and rain, which continued all day, and rather increased at night. The wind was directly against our getting to Mull. We were in a strange state of abstraction from the world: we could neither hear from our friends, nor write to them. Col had brought Daille on the Fathers, Lucas on Happiness, and More’s Dialogues, from the Reverend Mr. M’Lean’s, and Burnet’s History of his own Times, from Captain M’Lean’s; and he had of his own some books of farming, and Gregory’s Geometry. Dr. Johnson read a good deal of Burnet, and of Gregory, and I observed he made some geometrical notes in the end of his pocket-book. I read a little of Young’s Six Weeks’ Tour through the Southern Counties; and Ovid’s Epistles, which I had bought at Inverness, and which helped to solace many a weary hour.
We were to have gone with Dr. Johnson this morning to see the mine; but were prevented by the storm. While it was raging, he said, ‘We may be glad we are not damnati ad metalla.’
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8.
Dr. Johnson appeared to-day very weary of our present confined situation. He said, ‘I want to be on the main land, and go on with existence. This is a waste of life.’
I shall here insert, without regard to chronology, some of his conversation at different times.
‘There was a man some time ago, who was well received for two years, among the gentlemen of Northamptonshire, by calling himself my brother. At last he grew so impudent as by his influence to get tenants turned out of their farms. Allen the Printer, who is of that county, came to me, asking, with much appearance of doubtfulness, if I had a brother; and upon being assured I had none alive, he told me of the imposition, and immediately wrote to the country, and the fellow was dismissed. It pleased me to hear that so much was got by using my name. It is not every name that can carry double; do both for a man’s self and his brother (laughing). I should be glad to see the fellow. However, I could have done nothing against him. A man can have no redress for his name being used, or ridiculous stories being told of him in the newspapers, except he can shew that he has suffered damage. Some years ago a foolish piece was published, said to be written by S. Johnson. Some of my friends wanted me to be very angry about this. I said, it would be in vain; for the answer would be, “S. Johnson may be Simon Johnson, or Simeon Johnson, or Solomon Johnson;” and even if the full name, Samuel Johnson, had been used, it might be said; “it is not you; it is a much cleverer fellow.”
‘Beauclerk and I, and Langton, and Lady Sydney Beauclerk, mother to our friend, were one day driving in a coach by Cuper’s Gardens, which were then unoccupied. I, in sport, proposed that Beauclerk and Langton, and myself should take them; and we amused ourselves with scheming how we should all do our parts. Lady Sydney grew angry, and said, “an old man should not put such things in young people’s heads.” She had no notion of a joke, Sir; had come late into life, and had a mighty unpliable understanding.
‘Carte’s Life of the Duke of Ormond is considered as a book of authority; but it is ill-written. The matter is diffused in too many words; there is no animation, no compression, no vigour. Two good volumes in duodecimo might be made out of the two in folio.
Talking of our confinement here, I observed, that our discontent and impatience could not be considered as very unreasonable; for that we were just in the state of which Seneca complains so grievously, while in exile in Corsica. ‘Yes, (said Dr. Johnson,) and he was not farther from home than we are.’ The truth is, he was much nearer.
There was a good deal of rain to-day, and the wind was still contrary. Corneck attended me, while I amused myself in examining a collection of papers belonging to the family of Col. The first laird was a younger son of the Chieftain M’Lean, and got the middle part of Col for his patrimony. Dr. Johnson having given a very particular account of the connection between this family and a branch of the family of Camerons, called M’Lonich, I shall only insert the following document, (which I found in Col’s cabinet,) as a proof of its continuance, even to a late period: —
TO THE LAIRD OF COL.
‘DEAR SIR,
‘The long-standing tract of firm affectionate friendship ‘twixt your worthy predecessors and ours affords us such assurance, as that we may have full relyance on your favour and undoubted friendship, in recommending the bearer, Ewen Cameron, our cousin, son to the deceast Dugall M’Connill of Innermaillie, sometime in Glenpean, to your favour and conduct, who is a man of undoubted honesty and discretion, only that he has the misfortune of being alledged to have been accessory to the killing of one of M’Martin’s family about fourteen years ago, upon which alledgeance the M’Martins are now so sanguine on revenging, that they are fully resolved for the deprivation of his life; to the preventing of which you are relyed on by us, as the only fit instrument, and a most capable person. Therefore your favour and protection is expected and intreated, during his good behaviour; and failing of which behaviour, you’ll please to use him as a most insignificant person deserves.
