I walked to the parish church of Slate, which is a very poor one. There
are no church bells in the island. I was told there were once some; what
has become of them, I could not learn. The minister not being at home,
there was no service. I went into the church, and saw the monument of
Sir James Macdonald, which was elegantly executed at Rome, and has the
following inscription, written by his friend, George Lord Lyttelton:--
To the memory
Of SIR JAMES MACDONALD, BART.
Who in the flower of youth
Had attained to so eminent a degree of knowledge,
In Mathematics, Philosophy, Languages,
And in every other branch of useful and polite learning
As few have acquired in a long life
Wholly devoted to study:
Yet to this erudition he joined
What can rarely be found with it,
Great talents for business,
Great propriety of behaviour,
Great politeness of manners!
His eloquence was sweet, correct, and flowing;
His memory vast and exact;
His judgement strong and acute;
All which endowments, united
With the most amiable temper
And every private virtue,
Procured him, not only in his own country,
But also from foreign nations[460],
The highest marks of esteem.
In the year of our Lord 1766,
The 25th of his life,
After a long and extremely painful illness,
Which he supported with admirable patience and fortitude,
He died at Rome,
Where, notwithstanding the difference of religion,
Such extraordinary honours were paid to his memory,
As had never graced that of any other British Subject,
Since the death of Sir Philip Sidney.
The fame he left behind him is the best consolation
To his afflicted family,
And to his countrymen in this isle,
For whose benefit he had planned
Many useful improvements,
Which his fruitful genius suggested,
And his active spirit promoted,
Under the sober direction
Of a clear and enlightened understanding.
Reader, bewail our loss,
And that of all Britain.
In testimony of her love,
And as the best return she can make
To her departed son,
For the constant tenderness and affection
Which, even to his last moments,
He shewed for her,
His much afflicted mother,
The LADY MARGARET MACDONALD,
Daughter to the EARL of EGLINTOUNE,
Erected this Monument,
A.D. 1768[461]'
Dr. Johnson said, the inscription should have been in Latin, as every
thing intended to be universal and permanent should be[462].
This being a beautiful day, my spirits were cheered by the mere effect
of climate. I had felt a return of spleen during my stay at Armidale,
and had it not been that I had Dr. Johnson to contemplate, I should have
sunk into dejection; but his firmness supported me. I looked at him, as
a man whose head is turning giddy at sea looks at a rock, or any fixed
object. I wondered at his tranquillity. He said, 'Sir, when a man
retires into an island, he is to turn his thoughts entirely to another
world. He has done with this.' BOSWELL. 'It appears to me, Sir, to be
very difficult to unite a due attention to this world, and that which is
to come; for, if we engage eagerly in the affairs of life, we are apt to
be totally forgetful of a future state; and, on the other hand, a steady
contemplation of the awful concerns of eternity renders all objects here
so insignificant, as to make us indifferent and negligent about them.'
JOHNSON. 'Sir, Dr. Cheyne has laid down a rule to himself on this
subject, which should be imprinted on every mind:--"_To neglect nothing
to secure my eternal peace, more than if I had been certified I should
die within the day: nor to mind any thing that my secular obligations
and duties demanded of me, less than if I had been ensured to live fifty
years more[463]_."'
I must here observe, that though Dr. Johnson appeared now to be
philosophically calm, yet his genius did not shine forth as in
companies, where I have listened to him with admiration. The vigour of
his mind was, however, sufficiently manifested, by his discovering no
symptoms of feeble relaxation in the dull, 'weary, flat and
unprofitable[464]' state in which we now were placed.
I am inclined to think that it was on this day he composed the following
Ode upon the _Isle of Sky_, which a few days afterwards he shewed me
at Rasay:--