lemn
enthusiasm of mind. You love me for it, and I respect myself
for it, because in so far I resemble Mr Johnson. You will be
agreeably surprized when you learn the reason of my writing
this letter. I am at Wittenberg in Saxony. I am in the old
church where the Reformation was first preached, and where some
of the Reformers lie interred. I cannot resist the serious
pleasure of writing to Mr Johnson from the tomb of Melancthon.
My paper rests upon the gravestone of that great and good man
who was undoubtedly the best of all the Reformers.... At this
tomb, then, my ever dear and respected friend! I vow to thee an
eternal attachment. It shall be my study to do what I can to
render your life happy: and if you die before me, I shall
endeavour to do honour to your memory and, elevated by the
remembrance of you, persist in noble piety. May God, the father
of all beings, ever bless you! and may you continue to love
your most affectionate friend, and devoted servant,--JAMES BOSWELL.'

So early had Boswell made his resolve to be the biographer of Johnson.
On the very day of his introduction to him, he had taken notes of all
that had passed in Davies' back-parlour. He was none of the men that do
things by halves, and blunder into a kind of success, as some of his
depreciators have thought.

Six weeks he had been in Corsica. The first day of December saw him land
at Genoa on his return, Lyons was reached on the third day of the new
year, Paris one week later. Here Rousseau who had preceded him to London
had provided him with a curious commission, the bringing over into
England of his mistress Therese Levasseur. The easy-going Hume thus
announces the fact to his friend the Countess de Boufflers.
'Mademoiselle sets out with a friend of mine, a young gentleman, very
good humoured, very agreeable, and very mad. He has such a rage for
literature that I dread some event fatal to my friend's honour. For
remember the story of Terentia who was first married to Cicero, then to
Sallust, and at last in her old age married a young nobleman, who
imagined that she must possess some secret which would convey to him
eloquence and genius.' A letter he found waiting from Johnson, together
with one announcing the death of his mother. No more was heard about a
second year at Utrecht. He crossed to London, and was again with his old
friend, who had moved from the Temple t