The occasion was wildly seized by Boswell in May 1785 to issue a
half-crown pamphlet, with the title, '_A letter to the People of
Scotland_, on the alarming attempt to infringe the Articles of the
Union, and introduce a most pernicious innovation, by diminishing the
number of the Lords of Session.' This extraordinary production, intended
doubtless as a means of recommendation of the author for parliamentary
honours, can hardly now be read in the light of events by any
sympathetic Boswellian but with feelings of sorrow and confusion. Its
publication we may be sure would never have been sanctioned by Johnson.

After stating the foundation of the Court of Session, by James V. in
1532, on the model of the Parliament of Paris, he attacks Dundas for
having in himself the whole power of a grand jury. 'Mr Edward Bright of
Malden, the fat man whose print is in all our inns, could button seven
men in his waistcoat; but the learned lord comprehends hundreds.' He
calls on the Scottish people not to be cowed: 'let Lowther come forth
(we cannot emulate Boswell in the plenitude and the magnitude of his
capital letters and other typographical devices), he upon whom the
thousands of Whitehaven depend for three of the elements.' His own
opposition he proclaims is honest, because he has no wish for an office
in the Court of Session; he will try his abilities in a wider sphere.
Rumours of a coalition in the county of Ayr between Sir Adam Ferguson
and the Earl of Eglintoun he hopes are unfounded, 'both as an enthusiast
for ancient feudal attachments, and as having the honour and happiness
to be married to his lordship's relation, a true Montgomerie, whom I
esteem, whom I love, after fifteen years, as on the day when she gave me
her hand.' He assures the people they will have their objections to the
bill supported by 'my old classical companion Wilkes, with whom I pray
you to excuse my keeping company, he is so pleasant;' by Mr Burke, the
Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow, and by 'that brave Irishman,
Captain Macbride, the cousin of my wife.' In grandiose capitals he
appeals to Fox and to Pitt. 'Great sir,' he cries, 'forgive my thus
presumptuously, thus rashly, attempting for a moment to forge your
thunder! But I conjure you--in the name of God and the King, I conjure
you--to announce in your own lofty language, that there shall be a stop
put to this conspiracy, which I fear might have the effect of springing
a mine that would blow up