Boswells Correspondence with the Honourable Andrew Erskine, and His Journal of a Tour to Corsica | Page 3

have lived in the songs of the poet, but were
little fit for the purposes of the historian. He who attempts to write the
history of such a people is almost forced to accept tradition for fact, and
to believe in their Arthurs and their Tells. The Corsicans are, indeed,
from time to time found in one or other of the great tracks of European
history. As Boswell says, their island had belonged to the Phoenicians,
the Etruscans, the Carthaginians, the Romans, the Goths, and the
Saracens. It had been conquered by France, and had been made a gift
from that kingdom to the Pope. It had been given by the Pope to the
Pisans, and from them had passed to the Republic of Genoa. It had
undergone strange and rapid revolutions, but they were those common
revolutions that befall a wild race that lives in the midst of powerful
neighbours.
Boswell, unsurpassed though he is as a biographer, admirable as he is
as a writer of a Journal, yet had little of the stuff out of which an
historian is made. His compilation is a creditable performance for a
young man who had but lately returned home from his travels. It
certainly adds nothing to the reputation of the author of the "Life of
Johnson." But while it lies overwhelmed with deserved neglect, it ought
not to drag down with it the Journal of his Tour. That portion of the
work is lively, is interesting, and is brief. It can be read with pleasure
now, as it was read with pleasure when it first appeared. But, besides
this, it is interesting to us as the early work of a writer whose mind has
been a puzzle to men of letters. Even should we accept Macaulay's
judgment on Boswell, and despise him as he despises him, yet it must
surely be worth while to examine closely the early writings of an author,
who has, "in an important department of literature, immeasurably
surpassed such writers as Tacitus, Clarendon, Alfieri, and his own idol
Johnson."[4] This Journal is like the youthful sketch of some great
artist. It exhibits the merits which, later on, distinguished, in so high a
degree the mature writer.
[Footnote 4: "Macaulay's Essays," vol. i., p. 377.]
Together with the "Journal of a Tour to Corsica," I am reprinting a

volume of letters that passed between Boswell and his friend The
Honourable Andrew Erskine. Lively and amusing though they often are,
yet I should not have proposed to republish them did not they throw
almost as much light on Boswell's character as the Journal throws light
on his powers as a writer. In his account of Corsica, there is a passage
in which, while describing the historian Petrus Cyrnaeus, he at the
same time describes himself. "The fourth book of Petrus Cyrnaeus," he
says, "is entirely taken up with an account of his own wretched
vagabond life, full of strange, whimsical anecdotes. He begins it very
gravely: 'Quoniam ad hunc locum perventum est, non alienum videtur
de Petri qui haec scripsit vita et moribus proponere.' 'Since we are come
thus far it will not be amiss to say something of the life and manners of
Petrus, who writeth this history.' He gives a very excellent character of
himself, and, I dare say, a very faithful one. But so minute is his
narration, that he takes care to inform posterity that he was very
irregular in his method of walking, and that he preferred sweet wine to
hard. In short, he was a man of considerable parts, with a great
simplicity and oddity of character."
To the simplicity and oddity of character that Boswell shared with this
learned historian, there was certainly added not a little impudence. It
was an impudence that was lively and amusing; but none the less was it
downright impudence. We are amazed at the audacity with which two
young men ventured to publish to the world the correspondence which
had passed between them when they were scarcely of age. In fact, the
earlier letters were written when Boswell was but twenty. Their
justification only increases their offence. "Curiosity," they say, "is the
most prevalent of all our passions; and the curiosity for reading letters,
is the most prevalent of all kinds of curiosity. Had any man in the three
kingdoms found the following letters, directed, sealed, and adorned
with postmarks,--provided he could have done it honestly--he would
have read every one of them." There is this, however, that makes us
always look with a certain indulgence on Boswell. He never plays the
hypocrite. He likes praise, he likes to be talked about, he likes to know
great people, and he no more cares to conceal his likings than Sancho
Panza cared to conceal his appetite. Three