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THE JOURNAL OF A TOUR TO THE HEBRIDES
WITH SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D.
by
James Boswell
DEDICATION TO EDMOND MALONE, ESQ.
My Dear Sir,
In every narrative, whether historical or biographical, authenticity
is of the utmost consequence. Of this I have ever been so firmly
persuaded, that I inscribed a former work to that person who was the
best judge of its truth. I need not tell you I mean General Paoli;
who, after his great, though unsuccessful, efforts to preserve the
liberties of his country, has found an honourable asylum in Britain,
where he has now lived many years the object of Royal regard and
private respect; and whom I cannot name without expressing my very
grateful sense of the uniform kindness which he has been pleased to
shew me.
The friends of Doctor Johnson can best judge, from internal evidence,
whether the numerous conversations which form the most valuable part
of the ensuing pages, are correctly related. To them, therefore I wish
to appeal, for the accuracy of the portrait here exhibited to the
world.
As one of those who were intimately acquainted with him, you have a
tide to this address. You have obligingly taken the trouble to peruse
the original manuscript of this tour, and can vouch for the strict
fidelity of the present publication. Your literary alliance with our
much lamented friend, in consequence of having undertaken to render
one of his labours more complete, by your edition of Shakespeare, a
work which I am confident will not disappoint the expectations of the
publick, gives you another claim. But I have a still more powerful
inducement to prefix your name to this volume, as it gives me an
opportunity of letting the world know that I enjoy the honour and
happiness of your friendship; and of thus publickly testifying the
sincere regard with which I am.
My dear Sir,
Your very faithful and obedient servant,
James Boswell.
London, 20 September 1785.
"He was of an admirable pregnancy of wit, and that pregnancy much
improved by continual study from his childhood; by which he had gotten
such a promptness in expressing his mind, that his extemporal speeches
were little inferior to his premeditated writings. Many, no doubt, had
read as much and perhaps more than he; but scarce ever any concocted
his reading into judgement as he did."--Baker's Chronicle
Dr Johnson had for many years given me hopes that we should go
together, and visit the Hebrides. Martin's Account of those islands
had impressed us with a notion that we might there contemplate a
system of life almost totally different from what we had been
accustomed to see; and, to find simplicity and wildness, and all the
circumstances of remote time or place, so near to our native great
island, was an object within the reach of reasonable curiosity. Dr
Johnson has said in his Journey, 'that he scarcely remembered how the
wish to visit the Hebrides was excited'; but he told me, in summer,
1763, that his father put Martin's Account into his hands when he was
very young, and that he was much pleased with it. We reckoned there
would be some inconveniencies and hardships, and perhaps a little
danger; but these we were persuaded were magnified in the imagination
of every body. When I was at Ferney, in 1764, I mentioned our design
to Voltaire. He looked at me, as if I had talked of going to the North
Pole, and said, 'You do not insist on my accompanying you?' 'No, sir.'
'Then I am very willing you should go.' I was not afraid that our
curious expedition would be prevented by such apprehensions; but I
doubted that it would not be possible to prevail on Dr Johnson to
relinquish, for some time, the felicity of a London life, which, to a
man who can enjoy it with full intellectual relish, is apt to make
existence in any narrower sphere seem insipid or irksome. I doubted
that he would not be willing to come down from his elevated state of
philosophical dignity; from a superiority of wisdom among the wise,
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