I inclose you a transcript of a letter of Boswell's which I think worthy
of being permanently recorded, and am not aware of its having been
before in print.
Edinburgh, 11th April, 1774.
Dear Sir,
When Mr. Johnson and I arrived at Inveraray after our
expedition to the Hebrides, and there for the first time
_after many days_ renewed our enjoyment of the luxuries of
civilised life, one of the most elegant that I could wish to
find was lying for me, a letter from Mr. Garrick. It was a
pineapple of the finest flavour, which had a high zest indeed
amongst the heath-covered mountains of Scotia. That I have not
thanked you for it long ere now is one of those strange facts
for which it is so difficult to account, that I shall not
attempt it. The _Idler_ has strongly expressed many of the
wonderful effects of the _vis inertiæ_ of the human mind. But
it is hardly credible that a man should have the warmest
regard for his friend, a constant desire to show it, and a
keen ambition for a frequent epistolary intercourse with him,
and yet should let months roll on without having resolution,
or activity, or power, or whatever it be, to write a few
lines. A man in such a situation is somewhat like Tantalus
reversed. He recedes, he knows not how, from what he loves,
which is full as provoking as when what he loves recedes from
him. That my complaint is not a peculiar fancy, but deep in
human nature, I appeal to the authority of St. Paul, who
though he had not been exalted to the dignity of an apostle,
would have stood high in fame as a philosopher and orator,
"_What I would that do I not._" You need be under no concern
as to your debt to me for the book which I purchased for you.
It was long ago discharged; for believe me, I intended the
book as a present. Or if you rather chuse that it should be
held as an exchange with the epitaphs which you sent me, I
have no objection. Dr. Goldsmith's death would affect all the
club much. I have not been so much affected with any event
that has happened of a long time. I wish you would give me,
who am at a distance, and who cannot get to London this
spring, some particulars with regards to his last appearances.
Dr. Young has a fine thought to this purpose, that every
friend who goes before us to the other side of the river of
death, makes the passage to us the easier. Were our club all
removed to a future world but one or two, _they_, one should
think, would incline to follow. By all means let me be on your
list of subscribers to Mr. Morrell's _Prometheus_. You have
enlivened the town, I see, with a musical piece. The prologue
is admirably fancied _arripere populum tributim_; though, to
be sure, Foote's remark applies to it, that your prologues {329}
have a culinary turn, and that therefore the motto to your
collection of them should be, _Animus jamdudum in Patinis_. A
player upon words might answer him, "Any Patinis rather than
your Piety in Pattens." I wonder the wags have not been
quoting upon you, "Whose erudition is a _Christmas tale_." But
Mr. Johnson is ready to bruise any one who calls in question
your classical knowledge and your happy application of it. I
hope Mr. Johnson has given you an entertaining account of his
Northern Tour. He is certainly to favour the world with some
of his remarks. Pray do not fail to quicken him by word as I
do by letter. Posterity will be the more obliged to his
friends the more that they can prevail with him to write. With
best compliments to Mrs. Garrick, and hoping that you will not
punish me by being long silent, I remain faithfully yours,