urposes 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
i