»• i»^ LETTERS JAMES BOSWELL, \ V ADDRESSED TO THE REV. W. J. TEMPLE. NOW FIBST PUBLISHED FROM THE ORIGINAL MSS. WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES. LONDON : EICHAED BENTLET, NEW BUELINGTON STEEET, Publisljct in ©rJinarg to ?§cr ilSlajesta. 1857. e.^ IThf fifiht of TnniKhifl))// fJiix li'm-Ji- is rrsrrred.} rBTNTKD BV VRn TAYLOR, LITTI.K QUF.RN STRK1!T, LINCOr.K'S INN FIELDS. PREFACE. The Letters of James Boswell, contained in the pre- sent Voliune, came into the hands of the PubUsher under the following circumstances. A few years ago a clergyman having occasion to buy some small articles at the shop of Madame Noel, at Boulogne, observed that the paper in which they were wrapped was the fragment of an English letter. Upon inspection, a date and some names were discovered ; and further investigation proved that the piece of paper in ques- tion was part of a correspondence, carried on nearly a century before, between the Biographer of Dr. Samuel Johnson and his early friend, the Rev. William John- son Temple. On making inquiry, it was ascertained that this piece of paper had been taken from a large parcel recently purchased from a hawker, who was in the habit of passing through Boulogne once or twice a year, for the purpose of supplymg the different shops with paper. Beyond this no further information could be obtained. The whole contents of the parcel were immediately secured. The majority of the Letters bear VI PREFACE. tlio London and Devon post-marks, and arc franked l)v woll-known iiaiucs of that period. Besides those written by Boswell wliicli are here published, were found several from Mr. Nicholls, Mr. Claxton, and other persons alluded to in the following pages, as well as a few unfinished Sermons and Essays by Mr. Temj)lc. x\t the death of the pm'chaser of these Letters they passed into the hands of a nei)hew, from whom the Editor obtained them ; and in the present form they are now submitted to the Public. Novemler loth, 1856. Vll CONTENTS. PAGE Introduction xiii CHAPTER I. 1758-1761. Boswell's early Style of Letter-writing. — The "Elegance of Fricndsliip." — Elfrida. — Introduction to David Hume. — His Character. — Falls in Love with Miss W 1. — Her Qualities and Fortune. — Mr. Love, the Player. — Sir David Dalrymple. — Cambridge. — Study of Law at Edinbm-gh. — Dr. Johnson's Bumper to Lord Hailes. — Boswell on Heirs Male and Treatment of Daughters. — Journalizin,^ ... 1 CHAPTER II. 1761-1763. Attractions of London. — Boswell's Taste for the Army. — Dis- taste for Fighting. — Disgust for Scotland. — His Female Friends. — His Poem, 'The Club at Newmarket.' — Corre- spondence with the Hon. Andrew Erskine 12 CHAPTER III. 1763. Makes the Acquaintance of Dr. Johnson. — Character of a true Friend. — Mr. Dempster. — Criticism. — Supper with Mr. Johnson. — Boswell's new Plan of Life. — The Pensive Gray and the Apothecary Gray. — Bob Temple. — Johnson on the VIU CONTENTS. I'AbE An I'f Siutlv. - Hoswfll on tlic Advaiilagc's of Adversity. — l)r. .lolmson's liooins in llic IVniplo. — Supper at the Turk's Head. — Preparation for Travel. — Dr. Jolmson aeeonipaiiics him to Ilarwieh. — Writes him a Letter of Precepts 17 CHAPTER IV. 1764-1766. Studies at Utrecht. — Letter to Sir Andrew Mitchell. — Bos- well's " Spirited Tour." — A^isits Voltaire and Kousseau. — Coi*sica. — Pascal Paoli. — Corsican History and Journal. — Walpole's and Gray's Criticism. — Dedication of the Book. — A'isit to Mr. Pitt. — Correspondence with Temple re- sumed. — Boswell on the Clerical Character. Bachelorship, .uul Marriage. — Progress in the Law. — Contemplates -Matrimony. — Zelide. — A Scotch Lass. — Writes to Lord Chatham. — The Douglas Cause. — Professional Business. — Miss Blair. — Eough Notes for a Conversation. — Temple Marries 49 CHAPTER V. 1767-1768. Courting Miss Blair. — ' Dorando.' — Matrimony. — Mode of pre- scrv-ing a reasonable Attachment to Miss Blaii-. — Disagree- ment between Father and Son as to Boswell's Merits. — The ' Corsican Journal.' — Lord Baltimore's Tour. — Lovers' (^uan-els. — Boswell's Costume for Courting. — Miss Blair rtpudiated. — Zelide and Miss Bosville reconsidered. — Miss Blair replaced. — Dialogue between the Prince and Princess. —Its Result 104 CHAPTER VI. 1768-1773. Boswell Marries. — Dr. Johnson's Opinion of Mrs. Boswell. — Uxoriana. — Account of Corsica. — Tri]) to Ireland. — Adver- tises his Fashionable Visits. — Shakspeare Jubilee. — Re- CONTENTS. IX PAGE sides at Edinburgh. — Elected a Member of " The Ckib." — Love Affairs before his Marriage. — The Princess again and the Nabob. — Corresponds with "the Charming Dutchwo- man." — Success of ' Account of Corsica.' — Sets up his Chariot. — 'Visits from Hume and Johnson. — Robertson's ' Charles V.' — " La Belle Irlandaise." — Mental Conflict. — Letters from the Married BosweU. — Hume upon History. — Birth and Death of a Son. — BosweU's Married Life . . 130 CHAPTER VII. 1774-1775. Letter to Mrs. Temple. — Advice to her as a Wife. — BosweU's Journey to London. — Superstition and Feudalism. — Lord Lisburne. — Inconvenience to a Chaplain in Breakfasting. — Success in making Acquaintance. — The American Ques- tion. — Talking from Books. — Langtou Garrick. — Temple's Essay on the Clergy. — BosweU's Hope of Place. — Lord Pembroke. — A Speculation on the Patriarchs. — BosweU's Moral Fences. — Temple's Character of Gray adopted by Mason. — London Magazine. — BosweU in Election Case. — Dinners and Pleasures in Town. — Richard Owen Cam- bridge. — Hermes Harris 174 CHAPTER VIII. 1775. Dr. Johnson represses the Publication of the ' Tour to the He- brides.' — Preferment for Temple. — Mr. Thi'ale. — Beau- clerk's elegaixt VUla, etc. — A Day's Work. — Dr. Johnson. — Wilkes. — Lord Bute's Daughter-in-law. — Miss Bosville. — Return to Edinburgh. — Harry Dundas made King's Ad- vocate. — Dr. Johnson's Injunction. — Conjugal Love. — Con- trast between Edinburgh and London. — Paoli's Kindness. — The State and Dignity of a Coach. — Professional Prac- tice. — Anecdote of Mr. Hume. — Courtiers and Courtesans. Hume on Pitt. — The American War. — BosweU's Ambition for Political Power. — Hume on Dr. Johnson. — Temple on Hume. — Letter to Mason. — Dr. Black. — Lord Auchinleck on Johnson 19("t X CONTENTS. CHAPTEE IX. 1775. PAGE Hypocliondria. — Proposed publication of Mr. Temple's Letters to BosweU. — Lord Hailes' Annals of Scotland. — Lord Lis- burne. — Capability Brown. — Edmund Burke. — BosweU's Pedigree. — Allowance by his Father. — American "War. — Conjugal Society. — BosweU's estimation of himself. — His Father's views. — Divarication of the two. — Family Settle- ments. — Birth of a Son. — Dundas. — Dr. Johnson on the Continent. — Speculation on Happiness 208 CHAPTER X. 1776. Mrs. Eudd, her Trial and Treachery. — BosweU seeks her ac- quaintance. — At Bath with Dr. Johnson and the Thrales. — The Yew-tree Vow not kept. — Habits of Drinking. — ]Mrs. Eudd BosweUized. — Pure Friendship for Mrs. Stuart. — The Devonshire Family ^ . . . . 223 CHAPTEE XI. 1776-1779. Interval in the Correspondence. — Temple's Circumstances. — Dr. Johnson confirms BosweU in his Toryism. — A young Widow. — Louth. — Sir Alexander Dick's British Gcorgic. — Dr. Armstrong's description of Gibbon. — Temple's Book and Character criticized. — Letter from a Friend to Temple 236 CHAPTEE XII. 178(3-1789. Journey to Edmburgh. — Dean Smith. — Mr. Falconer. — Stay at Chester. — Lord Monboddo's Metaphysics. — BosweU's Posi- tionand Difficidties. — Bishop Hurd. — Happiness and Know- ledge. — David BosweU. — His Character. — Speculations on Human Misery and Personal Prospects. — I^ichols M'Lau- CONTENTS. XI PAGE rin. — Story of an Ordination. — The last Century.— Arch- bishop Drummond. — Dr. Boswell ......... 247 CHAPTEE XIII. 1781-1789. Interval in Correspondence. — Death of BosweU's Father. — Bos- well in Difficulties. — Death of Dr. Johnson. — ' Tour to the Hebrides.' — Boswell comes to London. — Borrows Money. — A Companion and Governess in 1788. — Christ's Hospital. — ' Life of Johnson.' — Dissipation and Despondency. — Ill- ness of BosM'eU's Wife. — Takes a House in Queen Anne Street West. — No Prospect at Westminster Hall. — Ma- lone's Assistance. — Archbishop's Dinner to Judges and Counsel. — Becomes Candidate for his County 260 CHAPTER XIV. 1789. Illness of Mrs. Boswell. — Society of the Northern Circuit. — Boswell " roasted." — 'Quare adhasit pavimento?' — Haw- kins. — Dr. Parr. — Collects and publishes Warburton's Ju- venile Works. — Hurd.— Public Affairs. — Pitt's ill-usage of Boswell. — His Wife. — Barthelemy's 'Voyage en Grece.' — Mceurs des Grecs. — Story of an Apparition. — Courtenay. — Sir John Hawkins. — Jealousy of Dr. Johnson's Biogra- phers. — Mrs. BosweU's Illness increases. — Dundas. — Pitt's " Folly." — Disappointment of Boswell. — Boswell meditates an attack upon Pitt 272 CHAPTEE XV. 1789. Mrs. BosweU's case pronounced hopeless. — Self-reproaches. — Parliamentary Aspiration. — Chairman of Quarter Sessions. — Address to the Prince of Wales. — ' Conspicuousness.' — Pitt. — Deathof Mrs. Boswell. — Family Plans. — Electioneer- ing. — Visit to Lord Lonsdale. — Strange Loss of a Wig. — Gloomy condition of Mind. — Mysterious discovery of ilie Wig. — Malone revising the ' Life of Johnson.' — Sir Joshua Eeynolds' Blindness. — BosweU's Income. — Visit to Eton. — Progress of the ' Life of Johnson ' 290 Xll CONTENTS. CHAPTEK XVI. 1789-1790. PAGK Habit of Intoniporanco. — Malone. — Boswcll's owu Opinion of Iho Merits of ' Life of Johnson.' — Private Affairs. — A good Dinner. — jMoniiment to Dr. Johnson. — 'European Settle- ment,' written by Burke's cousin. — Printing tlie 'Life of Johnson.' — Inscription on his Monument. — Keaclablc style ofWriting 309 CHAPTEE XVII. 1790-91. Political Disappointment. — Lord Lonsdale's shocking Eough- ness. — A Lady of Fortune. — Death of Iloss, the Player. — Hypochondria. — Advantages of High Life and Five Hun- ilred Pounds per ^\jinum. — Macklin, the Actor. — Last sheet of ' Life of Johnson.' — Meditations on Matrimony. — Miss Bagnal. — War with Eussia. — Helping the Turks . . 323 CHAPTEE XVIII. 1791-1793. I'ublication of the • Life of Johnson.' — A second Odyssey. — ^Ad- vertisements. — The Home Circuit. — Its superiority to the Northern. — New Matrimonial Schemes. — Sir Joshua Eey- nolds's Blindness. — Journey to Auchinleck. — Choice of a Minister for a Parish. — Second edition of the ' Life of John- sou.' — Boswell intoxicated, robbed, and repentant . . . 338 CHAPTEE XIX. 1794^1795. Indisposition. — French Eevolution. — Intemperance and Ee- morse. — Serious Illness. — Letters from Boswcll's Son and Brother. — BosweU's Death. — Conclusion 351 ADDITIONAL LETTEES. Correspondence with Hon. Andrew Erskine and Mr. Dempster 359 INTRODUCTION. The accident by which the following Letters of James Boswell have come to light has been already told in the Preface to this vokmie. If it had not been pre- sumed that they would interest many readers, and particularly those who concern themselves with the literature and character of the era in which Boswell lived, this collection would not have been given to the press. Although not a few of the letters may appear to be of a private and personal nature, evincing neither remarkable mental powers nor any high standard of morals, yet it has been considered that Boswell's his- tory and character, as here exhibited, acquire no small importance from the circumstance of his having min- gled with the literary giants of his day, whose sayings he recorded, whose characters he' criticized, and of whose daily doings he constituted himself a journalist ; whilst he of necessity imparted to his observations, notwithstanding his marvellous accuracy, no slight colouring derived from his own individuality. Upon XIV INTKODUCTION. tliis jii-ouiul the puliliration of these Letters of Bos- wcll, — ill which fri-t;iiiily tlie writer lays before liis correspoiulcnt liis real nature, his weaknesses, follies, nncl vices, — might find sufficient justification. His correspondence with J\Ir. Temple, however, possesses a further source of interest, as exhibiting a strange mental and moral condition in the confessions it con- tains, which arc indeed such as few people would make even to themselves, or commit to their private diaries. Notwithstanding the peculiar and private character of this correspondence, which certainly reflects in many parts little credit on the memory of the writer, still there can be little doubt that, could he now have a voice with respect to its publication, his morbid ego- tism would have approved of its thus appearing at the present day : indeed passages will be found in this volume which indicate that, not only did he reckon on Mr. Temple's preserving his letters, but even on the possibility of their coming to the eyes of the Public. It is interesting, in connection with the appearance of this volume, to read Boswell's own opinion upon the subject of the publication of private letters, which is expressed in the Preface to his correspondence with the Hon. Andrew Erskine,* which he published at an early period of his life : — " Cm-iosity," says he, " is the most prevalent of all our passions, and the curiosity for reading letters is the most prevalent of all kinds of curiosity. Had any man in the three kingdoms found the following letters, directed, sealed, and addressed, * Hee posi, p. 3.59. CURIOSITY ABOUT LETTERS. XV with postmarks, — provided that he could have done so honestly, — he would have read every one of them ; or had they been ushered into the world from Mr. Flexney's shop in that manner, they would have been bought up with the greatest avidity. As they really once had all the advantage of concealment, we hope the present more conspicuous form will not tend to diminish their merit." On a subsequent occasion Dr. Johnson, as the great arbiter of morals, was ap- pealed to by his faithful disciple upon this subject. Having objected to a part of one of his own letters to Boswell being published, a liberty which the latter had taken in his ' Account of Corsica,' the circumstance afforded " an opportunity of asking the Doctor, ex- plicitly, whether it would be improper to publish his letters after his death ; the answer to which was, ' Nay, Sir, when I am dead you may do as you will.' " This reply was doubtless in every respect satisfactory to Boswell, as he much coveted Dr. Johnson's cor- respondence, with a view probably of using it for his Biography. In the present case, indeed, any feeling of delicacy for Boswell's memory or reputation with regard to the propriety of publishing his Letters is superfluous. His own ostentation and egotism, his bustling, med- dling self- obtrusion, as well as the freedom he used in criticizing his contemporaries, associates, and rivals, render all that Boswell said or did a legitimate sub- ject of publication and comment. It is true, that he showed as little reserve with regard to himself as to XVI INTKODliCTION. others ; hut this only fonfinns tlic right to mete to him acajrding to his own mcasnrc, so tar at least as it is a just one. There is however another point which may be thought deserving of consideration, viz. the exposure of Boswell's weaknesses which is contained in these Letters to Mr Temple. Looking upon the latter in the light of a biography, we naturally recall the passage in the ' Life of Johnson' where this subject is raised. " Talking of biography, I said, ' In writing a Life, a man's peculiarities should be mentioned, because they mark his character.' Johnson .• ' Sir, there is no doubt as to peculiarities ; the question is, whether a man's vices should be mentioned. For instance, w^hether it should be mentioned that Addison and Parnell drank too freely, for people wall probably more easily indulge in drinking from knowing this ; so that more ill may- be done by the example than good by teUing the W'hole truth.' " " Here," continues Boswell, " w^as an in- stance of his varying from himself in talk ; for when the Lord Hailes and he sat one morning calmly con- versing in my house at Edinburgh, I w^ell remember that Dr. Johnson maintained that if a man is to write a panegyric, he may keep vices out of sight ; but if he professes to write a Life, he must represent it really as it was ; and when I objected to the danger of telhng that Parnell drank to excess, he said that it would produce an instructive caution to avoid drink- ing, when it was seen that even the learning and the genius of Parnell could be debased by it. And in the ON PUBLISHING LETTERS, XVll Hebrides he maintained that a man's intimate friend shonkl mention his faults, if he writes his hfe."* In determining upon the pubHcation of these Letters, no fear is entertained that the reader will be tempted to follow Boswell's example from sympathy with the cha- racter he has drawn of himself. On the whole, the letters to Mr. Temple present a natural, though not a very happy, picture of Boswell's life. They show him whilst young and with vigour un- impaired, rushing after pleasure just as his instincts im- pelled him. In the evening, with boon companions at the tavern, he enjoys the full liberty which those esta- blishments were in his days supposed to monopolize, and he himself, we feel assured, was the most hilarious of his tavern Club. No painful reticence is there im- posed upon him ; like all the rest of the social crew, he passes the joke and the bottle with equal freedom, and readily submits to the banter of his brother wits, so that he too may level his shafts in his turn. To the jovial evening however succeeds the morning of suffering and repentance ; but no sooner has the in- convenience of the debauch disappeared, and elasticity of spirits returned, than Boswell feels capable of gratify- ing his other and higher tastes, and bustles forth, filled now with literary ardour. The form which this feel- ing took in his mind was rather exhibited in a passion * September 17, 1777. Again, (May 18, 1778,) when Boswell talked of publishing Sibbald's Life, and Mrs. Thrale objected that to discover such weakness exposes a man when he is gone, Johnson replies, " Nay, it is an honest picture of human nature." b will I.MUODUCTION. \'ov tiilking to litiTan men ■ tlian studying books; and so, Imrrvinii; to nirrt tlir most t'anious or tlic last no- torious writiM-. I^oswfll is again linppy in tlic rapid fiivnlation of ideas through his excited brain. The clianns of this society are great whilst they last; but when the mercurial man is alone again, he is again wretched. As time rolls on, this mode of life, with its rapid action and painful reaction, begins to tell upon his constitution, both bodily and mentally. The con- vi\ iality of youth often degenerates into the sottishness of age ; and the natural liveliness and vivacious rattle of the young man, if it do not fail him with years, probably assumes the form of troublesome garruhty. The frequent expression of misery and dissatisfaction which will be found in the Letters here laid before the reader, are evidences that Boswell was not a happy man. The animal spirits to which he trusted fre- * In a letter of Dand Hume's to the Countess cle Bouffler, tlie tlicoiy of Boswell's literary mania is amusingly referred to. The writer says : "A letter has also come open to me from Guy, the bookseller, by which I learn that Mademoiselle sets out post, in company with a friend of mine, a young gentleman, very good-hu- iiwured, very agreeable, and very mad. He visited Rousseau in his mountains, who gave him a recommendation to Paoli, the King of Corsica, where this gentleman, whose name is Boswell, was last summer in search of adventures ; he has such a rage for literature, that I dread some event fatal to our friend's honour. You re- member the story of Terentia, who was first married to Cicero, then to Sallust, and at last, in her old-age, married a youug nobleman, who imagined that she must possess some secret which would convey to him eloquence and genius." — Private Correspondence of David Hume, p. 131 ; see also Burton's Life of Hume, vol. ii., p. 307. BOSWELL S MODE OE LIFE. XIX quently flagged, and latterly failed him, in spite of his resorting to his wonted stimulants. The hypochondria, of which he frequently complained at all periods of his life, seems to have acquired a stronger and more permanent hold upon him in his latter years, when indeed his general health was much shaken, and his nervous system impaired. Unfortunately Boswell's hypochondriacal attacks were for the most part at- tributed to the debility occasioned to his system by an unwise mode of living, and to the remorse with which he regarded the loss of those opportunities which might have secured to him two great objects of his ambition, — a larger income, and a better position generally in the world.* In the earlier part of his life, the fits of low spirits, depression, hypochondria, or whatever it may be called, were but short-lived, and seem indeed to have been rather fostered and paraded by himself ; when they had passed away, Boswell was again the gay votary of pleasure, wliich he sought, as before, some- times with the sensual sensually, at others with the intellectual intellectually. f * It may be observed, that the Baronetcy now in the Boswell family, which Avoiild have filled James Boswell's heart with joy and gladness, had it been his lot to have attained to that honour, was not confeiTed initil the generation which succeeded him. f With regard to Boswell's hypochondria, there is no doubt that he had all the more respect for it because it was a disease from which Dr. Johnson suifered. But whatever the real nature of Bos- well's melancholy may have been, it was certainly diflFerent in cha- racter from that to which Dr. Johnson was unfortunately heir. What the latter thought of his biographer's ailment may be seen in the letter to Boswell, dated April 8th, 1780. It runs thus : — " Having b2 XX INI'KODI t TION. Thf socivt which inailc Hoswcll's company so ac- ceptable to tlic Icariu'd and cmincut uicii with whom he mixed, will he explained differently ; good-nature and vivacity and amusing bustle are no doubt attrac- tive qualities in society, and these Bos well possessed; but, what was of more importance, he was himself very fond of this society, and laid himself out for it. Sir William Forbes* has said of Boswell, that " the circle of his acquaintance among the learned, the witty, and indeed among all ranks and professions, was ex- tremely extensive, as his talents were considerable, and his convivial powers made his company much in re- quest." Boswell submitted to the conditions imposed upcjii him by society, allowed himself to be made the butt of his companions, and was in this and other ways usefid as an instrument and vehicle for promoting con- told you what has happened to your friends, let me say something to you of youj-self. You are always complaining of melancholy, and I conclude from those complaints that you are fond of it. Xo man talks of that which he is desirous to conceal, and every man desires to conceal that of which he is ashamed. Do not pretend to deny it, manifeMviu habemus furem.. Make it an invariable and obligatory law to yourself never to mention your own mental diseases. If you are never to speak of them, you Avill think on them but little, and if you think little of them, they will molest you rarely. When you talk of them, it is plain you want either praise or pity ; for praise there is no room, and pity Avill do you no good ; therefore fi-om this hour speak no more, think no more, about them." For Boswell to have followed this advice would however have been to have aban- doned too great a luxury ; and possibly in after years the complaint may have grown to have been more real than Dr. Johnson seems to have given him credit for, * See the ' Life of Dr. Beattie.' SOCIETY BOS WELL MIXED IN. XXI versation, discussion, and mirth. Thus it required some one who could introduce a topic of conversation with the chance of faihng in the object, and of meet- ing the heavy blows of Dr. Johnson's scorn or irony. Boswell however was more than the showman of Ur. Johnson, though he often appeared in that character ; he was a happy reciter of anecdote, a good mimic, and known to possess the right of mingling in what is termed " good society," where his acquirements might well render him both popular and amusing. Again, no misplaced modesty with respect to himself ever ren- dered him awkward, or others uncomfortable. We cannot doubt that he was frequently an object of ridi- cule, in whatever company he appeared, and to those often inferior in many respects to himself; but this with many would rather enhance his popularity than otherwise. It is vain however further to attempt to explain the secret of Boswell's forming one of a society of men like Burke, Reynolds, and their friends : it is enough to know that, with all his weaknesses and foibles, he was deemed worthy of such society, and has left us its pleasantest records. With reference to Boswell's family, it is unnecessary to say more than he himself has recorded in many places,* his ancestry being a subject of great pride to him. We find, for instance, all that need be here * The lineage of the Boswell family is duly given in the Baronet- age. " The family is supposed to have been established in Scot- land in the reign of David I., and it obtained the Barony of Balmuto in the beginning of the fifteenth century, by the marriage Wll INTHODIU TION. (IrtaiK'cl iinrnitcil U\ BdswcH, in a very characteristic fasliiiiu, ill his ' Letter to tlie People of Scotland ;' but it shouKl he observed, that the information in ques- tion \\\c\v presented to the public has no possible bearing on the subject on which the Author was writ- ing, altliough he had no compunction about intruding it. It occurs in the midst of an enthusiastic burst of patriotism, and runs as follows : — " My uncle's great- grandfather, that ' worthy gentleman' David Bos well of Auchinleck, a true heart-of-oak, with a vigorous mind and a robust body, secured a male succession ; his uncle, thouc-h he had four dau2:hters, the eldest of whom was married to Lord Cathcart (who would have been glad to have had an old Rock), was feudal enough to give him the estate. That Laird used to say, he never saw a man in his life that he did not think himself his master : I cannot say so much, but I will say that I ' call no man master' w^ithout reserve. When I have fixed my opi- nion upon an important question, I maintain it as a of Sir John Boswcll witli Mariota, daughter and coheiress of Sir John Glen." Then follows mention of various Davids, Thomases, and Jameses, which, for brevity, are here omitted ; and we will come to "Bozzy's" grandfather, who seems to be the first who applied his brains to eara his living. This grandfather's name was Alexander. He is termed a " lawj'er of eminence;" and the legal talent seems in this case to have been hereditary, for his son arrived at the dignity of the Bench under the title of Lord Auchinleck. Dr. John Boswell was a brother of Lord Auchinleck, and their sister Veronica manied ]\Ii-. David ^lontgomerie, of Lainshaw. If any one is further cm-ious as to the collateral branches of the family, he will find the requisite informa- tion in the ])ooks which are dedicated to such subjects. BOSWELL S ANCESTRY. XXlll point of conscience, as a point of honour : I am a Tory, not a slave." He then proceeds to mention " an Essay dictated to me by Dr. Johnson, on the distinc- tion between a Whig and a Tory," and winds up this curious ramble by gravely announcing that " there may come an enterprise of great moment, as to which it would be deeply culpable to conceal my sentiments, as to which I may think myself obliged to a faithful, an intrepid, an inflexible Mentor." (Page 103.) Upon this passage Boswell seizes a fresh opportunity of hanging a long family history, in the following note-.- — " Thomas Boswell was the first Laird of Auchinleck (pronounced Affleck), in Ayrshire, after the estate had fallen to the Crown by the forfeiture of the very ancient family of that ilk {i. e. of the same name), there being no record nor tradition of any other family having it. I am told the Afflecks of England are the heirs of the forfeited family ; I am proud of the connection, but should be un- willing to resign to them the estate, of which they have now no need. Thomas Boswell was a descendant of the family of Balmuto in Eife, whose estate was purchased in this century by a younger son of my family. The wife of Thomas Boswell was a daughter of Campbell of Loudoun, and a granddaughter of the forfeited Affleck ; he was honoured in 1504 with a charter from James IV. of Scotland, ' Dilecto familiar! nostro pro bono ct fideli servitio nobis proestito.' He was killed with his King at the fatal field of Elodden, in 1513, fighting against the English, though he was himself of old York- shire extraction, being descended of the respectable laiuilv of Hos\illo or BoswcU (for both they and we have spilt it hotli ways at different times) of Gimthvvaite, in ihr Wist Riding. After a separation of ages, I united our brancli, in cordial friendship, with the stock or Chief, the late Godfrey Bosville, Esq., as honest a man, as perfect an example of ' the noblest work of God,' as ever breathed. This friendship continued with his son William Bosville, Esq., who, wdth his father's ho- nest heart, has the curiosity of Ulysses, w^hich he has gratified very extensively : he is to let me have a free- hold in Yorkshire, a small bit of the old manor, which will cement us from generation to generation. If it should be asked. What has this note to do here ? I answer. To illustrate the author of the text, and to ' pour out all myself as Old Montaigne.' Iioish all thin to he known, and you who censure it have read it, and must therefore know it. I am at home in Yorkshire, and I last year assisted at that glorious meeting wdiere loyalty and liberty united in addressing his Majesty.*" * 'Letter to the People,' etc., note to p. 103. In the same pamphlet we find another amusing instance of the author's mixing politics and autobiography. " I exhort you," says Boswell, " my Mends and countrymen, in the words of my departed Goldsmith, who gave me many nodes Attlcce, and gave me a jewel of the finest water, the acquaintance of Sir Joshua Eeynolds, I exhort you to ' fly from petty tyrants to the throne ' " Qip. 99, 100). This allusion to Goldsmith is not in accordance with the general remarks of Bos- well, which, on almost all occasions, are derogatory and sHghting to the poet, and evince no just appreciation of Ms " departed " friend. Boswell, it may be noted, has not carried his family history down to his father, the Scotch Judge ; but enough wiU be found of him and his character in subsequent pages of this volume. This copy of the pamphlet in the British Museum Library was GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS. XXV Thus much will suffice for the ancestral history of the Boswell family. We are chiefly concerned here with the James Boswell — the biographer of Johnson. In all he has written, his natural conceit has caused him to present quite enough of that favourite topic for all reasonable tastes ; and, moreover, in the fol- lowing pages the opportunity has been taken, when- ever it has been thought advisable, to mention those circumstances of his life which seemed to have any peculiar interest, or to relate to matters contained in the letters themselves. Much has been said and writ- ten upon this subject, and mostly to the same purport. His nature indeed, though contradictory, is transpa- rent ; but its importance, it must be confessed, mainly attaches to him as the biographer of Johnson. As to his literary merit, which his great Work especially exhibits, that eminent contemporary of Boswell Mr. Gray* justly pointed out that it consisted in his de- tailing exactly what he saw and heard, and that any the presentation-copy to John Wilkes, as we see from the inscrip- tion on the title-page, Avhich is as follows : — "Comes jacnndus in \ia pro vehicnlo est. " To John Wilkes, Esq., as pleasant a companion as ever lived, from the Author. " Will my Wilkes retreat, " And see, once seen before, that ancient seat," etc. It is in the ' Letter to the People of Scotland' that Boswell tells the stoiy that, before the heritable jurisdictions were abolished, a man was tried for his life in the court of one of the chieftains. The juiy were going to bring him in Not Guilty, but somebody whispered them that "the young Laird had never seen an execution," upon which the verdict was Death, and the man was hanged. * See, posi, p. 60. \\\l IN I UOIH (TION. juTsoii wlio could ill like luaniur do tliis, could write a valuable book, cvcu as Boswcll did. Assuming this to l)c true, it hy uo means prevents our giving this peculiar merit, admirable as it is rare, its due praise. There is one modern author, Thomas Carl3de, who has so ably discussed the characteristics* of Boswell, anil iliscovered in them a certain merit not previously noted, tliat it is necessary here to refer to his remarks. However we may be incUned to assent to or differ from tlie view'S he has expressed, they are too valuable to be kept out of sight by an impartial critic anxious to award to Boswell the justice due to liim. " Boswell," says Mr. Carlyle, " has already been nmcli commented upon, but rather in the way of cen- sure and vituperation than of true recognition. He was a man that brought himself much before the world ; confessed that he eagerly courted fame, or, if that were not possible, notoriety, of which latter he gained far more than seemed his due. The public w^ere incited, not only by their natural love of scandal, but by a special ground of envy, to say whatever ill of him could be said." The writer then proceeds to show how^ his mean or bad qualities were open to the dullest eye, while the better qualities were in nowise self-evident, how^ever really admirable " That he was a winebibber, a gross liver, gluttonously fond of wdiatever would jield him a little solaccment, were it only of a stomachic character, is undeniable enough. That he was vain, heedless, a * See bis ' Critical aud Miscellaneous Essays,' vol. iv. p. 31. APOLOGY roll BOSWELL. XXVll babbler ; had much of the sycophant alternating with the braggadocio, curiously spiced too with an all-per- vading dash of the coxcomb ; that he gloried much when the tailor by a court-suit had made a new man of him ; and, in short, if you will, lived no day of his life without doing and saying more than one preten- tious ineptitude : — all this unhappily is evident as the sun at noon ; the very look of Boswell seems to have signified so much. In that cocked nose, — cocked partly in triumph over his weaker fellow-creatures, partly to snuff up the smell of coming pleasure and scent it from afar ; in those bag cheeks, hanging like half-filled wine- skins, still able to contain more ; in that coarsely protruded shelf mouth, that fat developed chin ; in all this who sees not sensuality, pretension, boisterous im- becility enough, — much that could not have been orna- mental in the temper of a great man's over-fed great man (what the Scotch name flunkey), though it had been more natural there ?" On the other hand, and unfortunately for Boswell's repute, Mr. Carlyle shows that whatever genuine good lay in him was nowise so self-evident. That Boswell was a hunter with spiritual notabilities, — that he loved such, and longed, and even crept and crawled to be near them, — that he could not help doing this, " we account a very singular merit. The man, once for all, had an ' open sense,' an open, loving heart, which so few have. Where excellence existed, he was compelled to acknowdedge it ; was drawn towards it (let the old sulphur brand of a Laird say what he liked) \\\lll INTKODUCTION. nwhl not /ii'f tnilk witli it, — it' not as superior, if not as ("(jual, tlu'ii as inferior and lackey: better so than not at all." It is this " love of excellence " which seems to Mr. Carlylc to he the redeeming quality of Boswell's character. There is a hero-worship exhibited by the Scotch Laird towards the English author, which renders what was contemptible to many, respectable, and admirable in Mr. Carlyle's eye. Natm'c, edu- cation, hiirdi.siH, and politics, seem to have been van- quished and atoned for by this following after great- ness. It is however but too true that poor Boswell made much zealous pursuit after what was extraordi- nary and evil, as well as after what was great and good. Mrs. Rudd (the courtesan, who escaped the penalty of forgery by betraying her paramour to death) was sought out by this hero-worshipper, no less than Paoli. Rousseau and Dr. Johnson w^re alike subjected to Boswell's obsequiousness and admiration. The so- ciety of candidates for the gallows and literary glory were honoured in the same day by this lover of ex- cellence for its own sake. However Mr. Carlyle has offered his apology for Boswell so well that, although it may not carry conviction to the reader, it is but fair to the memory of Boswell that the able critic's view of his character should be well considered. " It has been commordy said," continues Mr. Carlyle, " that the man's vulgar vanity was all that attracted him to Johnson; he delighted to be seen near him, to be thought connected with him. Now let it be CONNECTION WITH JOHNSON. XXIX at once granted that no consideration, springing out of vulgar vanity, could well be absent from the mind of James Boswell in this his intercourse with Johnson, or in any considerable transaction of his life ; at the same time, ask yourself whether such vanity, and no- thing else, actuated him therein ? whether this was the true essence and moving principle of the phenomenon, or not rather its outward vesture and the accidental en- vironment (and defacement) in which it came to light ? The man was by nature and habit vain, a sycophant- coxcomb, — be it granted ; but had there been nothing more than vanity in him, was Samuel Johnson the man of men to whom he must attach himself ? At the date when Johnson was a poor, rusty-coated ' scholar,' dwelling in Temple Lane, and indeed throughout their whole intercourse afterwards, were thei'c not Chan- cellors and Prime Ministers enough ; graceful gentle- men, the glass of fashion ; honour-giving noblemen ; dinner- giving rich men ; renowned fire-eaters, swords- men, gownsmen ; quacks and realities of all hues, — any one of whom bulked much larger in the world's eye than Johnson ever did ? to any one of whom, by half that submissiveness and assiduity, Bozzy might have recommended himself, and sat there, the envy of sur- rounding lickspittles, pocketing now solid emolument, swallowino; now w^ell-cooked viands and wines* of rich 'O * " I allow," quoth Boswell, in a conversation held with Dr. Johnson, April 7, 1778, "there may be greater pleasures than from wine ; I have had more pleasure from your conversation, I assure you I have." \\\ INTKODl ( TION. vintnm' ; in c:\c\\ rase, also, slioiu' on by some nlittc'vini; ivflcx of renown or notoriety, so as to be tlie observed of innnnirrablc observers. To no one of whom liow- ever, though otherwise a most iliHgent solicitor and purveyor, did he so attacli himself : sucli vulgar courtier- ships were his paid drudgery or leisure amusement ; the worship of Johnson was his grand, ideal, voluntary business. Docs not the frothy -hearted yet enthusi- astic man, doffing his advocate's wig, regularly take post, and hurry up to London for the sake of his sage chieiiy ;* as to a Feast of Tabernacles, the Sabbath of his whole year? The plate-licker and wine-bibber dives into Bolt Court, to sip muddy coffee with a cy- nical old man, and sour-tempered bhnd old woman (feeling the cups, wdiether they are full, with her finger) ; and patiently endures contradiction without end ; too happy so he may but be allowed to listen and live. Nay, it does not appear that vulgar vanity could ever have been much flattered by Boswell's relation to John- son. Mr. Croker says, Johnson was, to the last, little * Without detracting from the enthusiasm with which Boswell pursued his revered friend, we have nevertheless abundant evidence that the joys of the ^Metropolis, even without the Doctor's presence, were a mc^et quite siifficiently potent to withdraw Boswell from Scotland as often as might be. Thus we read, " I had long com- plained to him [Dr. Johnson] that I felt myself discontented in Scot- land, as too narrow a sphere, and that I wished to make my chief residence in London the great scene of ambition, instiniction, and amusement, — a scene which was to me, comparatively speaking, a heaven upon earth." — Life of Johnson, Sept. 20, 1777. We shall see however that Boswell had fewer opportimities of visiting London, or of enjoying Dr. Johnson's society, than might be supposed. APOLOGY FOR BOSWELL. XXXI regarded by the great world ;* from which, for a vulgar vanity, all honour, as from its fountain, descends. Bozzy, ever among Johnson's friends and special ad- mirers, seems rather to have been laughed at than envied ; his officious, whisking, consequential ways, the daily reproofs and rebuffs he underwent, could gain from the world no golden but only leaden opinions. His devout discipleship seemed nothing more than mean spanielship, in the general eye. His mighty constella- tion, or snn, round which he, as satellite, observantly gyrated, was, for the mass of men, but a huge ill- snuffed tallow-light, and he a weak night-moth, circling foolishly, dangerously about it, not knowing wdiat he wanted. If he enjoyed Highland dinners and toasts as henchman to a new sort of chieftain, Henry Erskine, in the domestic ' Outer House,' could hand him a shil- ling ' for the sight of his bear.' Doubtless the man was laughed at, and often heard himself laughed at, for his Johnsonism. To be envied is the grand and sole aim of vulgar vanity ; to be filled with good things, is that of sensuality ; for Johnson perhaps no man living envied poor Bozzy ; and of good things (except himself paid for them) there was no vestige in that acquaint- anceship. Had nothing other or better than vanity and sensuality been there, Johnson and Boswell had never come together, or had soon and finally sepa- rated again. * * * * Mr. Croker refers to fasJiionable society ; for assuredly not a few of the men of Johnson's time, whom Ave now deem as being of real and intrinsic greatness, were of his acquaintance. \\\ll INTRODUCTION. ".Tamos Boswi'll lu-loiiiiicd. in his coi ruptihlc part, to \W lowest ('lassos of iiiankiiul, a I'oolisli, inflated crea- ture, swimming in an clcnu'nt of self-conceit; but in his t'v)rruptil)le there dwelt an incorruptible, all the more impressive and indubitable for the strange lodg- ing it had taken." The hero-worship exhibited by Boswell towards Johnson was, as above remarked, shown also for not a few besides ; and indeed the opportunities for its ])articular display to his " great friend and morahst," tluring the score of years their acquaintance lasted, were not used as they might have been. Still, could he have commanded the position which his rivals Haw- kins, Piozzi, Strahan, and others occupied, it cannot be doubted that his Work, wonderful as it is, would have been greatly enriched. Unfortunately Boswell, besides being a hero-worshipper, was one of those who are enchanted with the various dissipations of London, lie had, from an early period, a passion for literature, and it was this which happily drew him to Dr. Johnson, who, although a "poor, rusty-coated scholar," was yet in the enjoyment of the highest literary fame of that day. This was the kind of fame which appealed, after all, most strongly to the sympathies, taste, and ambi- tion of Boswell, who, it has been seen, is described, in a letter of Mr. Hume's, to have been subject to a spe- cies of literary mania. Beside the above apologies for Boswell's character, offered by Mr. Carlyle, he proposes the following expla- nation with respect to an unusual defect in its " amal- BOSWELL S LIFE OF JOHNSON. XXXIU gamation and subordination," but which possibly is as true of all men, especially of those of mixed character and possessed of conflicting qualities, as it is of Bos- well : — " The highest," says he, " lay side by side with the lowest, not morally combined with it and spiritually transfiguring it, but tumbling in half-mechanical juxta- position with it ; and, from time to time, as the mad alternative chanced, irradiating it or eclipsed by it." "The world, as we said," continues Carlyle, "has been but unjust to him ; discerning only the outer ter- restrial and often sordid mass ; without eye, as it gene- rally is, for his inner divine secret ; and thus figuring him nowise as a god Pan, but simply of the bestial species, like the cattle on a thousand hills. Nay, sometimes a strange enough hypothesis has been started of him ; as if it were in virtue even of these same bad qualities that he did his good work ; as if it were the very fact of his being among the worst men in this world that had enabled him to write one of the best books therein. Falser hypothesis, we may venture to say, never rose in human soul. Bad is by its nature negative, and can do nothing ; whatsoever enables us to do anything is by its very nature good. Alas, that there should be teachers in Israel, or even learners, to whom this world-ancient fact is still proble- matical, or even deniable ! Bos well wrote a good Book because he had a heart and an eye to discern Wisdom, and an utterance to render it forth ; because of his free insight, his lively talent, above all, of his love and child- like open-mindedness. His sneaking sycophancies, his XXXIV INTUODl'CTION. ffrcodincss and lorwardiicss, wliatcvor was bestirl and oarthlv ill liiin, arr so many Mcniislics in his book, which still (H^tuil) us in its clearness; wholly hindrances, not helj)s. Towards Jolnison however his feeling was not Sycoi)liancy, which is the lowest, but Reverence, which is the highest of human feehngs. None but a Revere Nf man* (which so unspeakably few are) could have found his way from Boswell's environment to Johnson's." The misapprcciation of Boswell here spoken of by j\Ir. Carlyle frequently took a very bitter form in his own day. Thus Peter Pindar, for instance, sings of him : — "In vain at gloiy gudgeon Boswell snaps, His mind, a paper kite composed of scraps, Just o'er the tops of chimneys formed to fly, Not with a wing sublime to mount the sky. Say to the dog, his head's a downright dram, Unequal to the histoiy of Tom Thumb ; Nay, tell of anecdote ! that thirsty leech. He is not equal to a Tyburn speech. "f A midtitude of other passages might be cited which give as little honour to poor Boswell. * " I find in my Journal the following reflection : — ' So ready is my mind to suggest matter for dissatisfaction, that I felt a sort of regret that I was so easy. I missed that awful reverence with which I used to contemplate Mr. Samuel Johnson in the complete magni- tude of his literary, moral, and religious character. I have a won- derful superstitious love of mysteiy.' " — 'Life of Johnson^ March 18, 1778. t See the Postscript to a " Poetical and Congratulatory Epistle to James Boswell, on his ' Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides.' " SECRET OF HIS AUTHORSHIP. XXXV With respect to his habit of courting the society of great men, to which Mr. Carlyle has referred, Bos- well has given his own explanation generally of his feelings, which differs somewhat from that of his apologist. "When," says he, "we see a man of eminence, we desire nothing more than to be of his acquaintance. We then wish to have him as a com- panion ; and when we have attained to that, we are impatient till we gain a superiority over him."* An- other literary authority of the present day has, in his contribution of 'Boswelliana' to the Philobiblion Society, after observing that he has limited the selec- tion of personal anecdotes to Boswell himself, and to his own remarks on men and things, says of those anecdotes, " They are, I conceive, amusing in them- selves, and characteristic of a man of letters, whose rank as an author is due rather to his moral than to his intellectual qualifications. The lively vanity that sharp- ened his own self-conceit was clearly akin to that genial appreciation of art and worth in others which have made him the most delightful of biographers ; and the unconsciousness of his own weakness, here so po- tent, has permitted him to record those traits and in- cidents, which a more critical affection would have only perceived to conceal, but which the lover of his- toric reality may esteem and enjoy, not only without disparagement to the hero, but with a sympathetic and almost personal interest, that the most elaborate or even eloquent narration often fails to supply." Indeed * Boswelliana, Philobiblion Society, vol. ii. c 2 WNVl INTRODUCTION. the vi'i-y I'act that IkiswcU narrates what others would suppress, is a guarantee of his fidelity and the great distinct i\e mark of liis writings. Reserve was at all times })ainful to him ;* but when he, his doings or sayings, formed part of a story, it was impossible for him to conceal that part, as it was unnatural to him to give a false colouring or to practise invention. Any criticism upon Boswell's character would be imperfect witliout his own, and for this Ave may turn to the description which he gives of himself in the ' Tour to the Hebrides.' " Think," says he, "of a gen- tleman of ancient blood, the pride of which was his predominant passion. . . He had thought more than anybody had supposed, and had a pretty good stock of general learning and knowledge. He had all Dr. John- son's principles, with some degree of relaxation. He had rather too httle than too much prudence." And he proceeds to quote a line, to describe himself more accm'ately, affirming that he resembled sometimes " The best good man, -n-ith the worst-natured Muse." Mr. Croker annotates this passage by citing the au- thority of Lord Stowell, that Bos well enjoyed among his countrymen " about the proportion of respect that you might guess w^ould be showai to di j oil i/ fell oiv." Not only was Boswell compelled by an irresistible impulse to talk and write of himself, but it appears that when he sang he preferred this theme to every other. A jovial Club had been formed at Edinburgh, * See the Preface to the Second Edition of the ' Life of Johnson,' refen-ed to, ^o«/, in the remarks made on the letter, anno 1793. ' SONG ON HIMSELF. XXXVll called the " Soaping Club," from the motto, " Let every man soap his own beard," — another form of the phrase, " Every man in his ovi^n Immour." Boswell v\^as a member of this Club, and composed the following song, which he sang and afterwards published in a collection of similar productions : — " Boswell : a Song : to the tune of'' Old Sir Si/inon,' etc. " Boswell, of Soapers the king, On Tuesdays at Tom's* does appear ; And when he does talk and does sing. To him ne'er a one can come near ; For he talks with, such ease and such grace, That all charmed to attention we sit ; And he sings with so comic a face, That oiu' sides are just ready to split, " Boswell is modest enough : Himself not quite Phoebus he thinks ; He never does flourish with snuff, And Hock is the liquor he drinks ; And he owns that Ned C ,t the priest, May to something of humour pretend ; And he swears that he is not in jest When he calls the same C his friend. "Boswell is pleasant and gay. For frolic by nature design'd ; He heedlessly rattles away When the company is to his mind. This maxim, he says, you may see We can never have corn without chaff ; So not a bent sixpence cares he Whether with him or at him you laugh. * A tavern where the Soapers resorted. t Who this Soaper, of a dissyllabic name, was, is now beyond the ranse of historical research. WWIll INTRODUCTION. " HoswoU iloc3 women adore, And iK'vcr once means to deceive, lie 's in love with at least half a score ; It' they 're serious, he laughs in his sleeve. lie has all the bright fancy of youth, With the judgment of fifty-and-five ; In short, to declare the plain trutli. There's no better fellow alive." This curious doggrcl affords a common example of the good terms on which its composer Hved, as well with himself, as with those in whose company he was wont to sing the song. Boswell had at all times a very high notion of the wit and humour which he cele- brates in the above verses. He had no hesitation to compare himself, for instance, with John Wilkes. " When Wilkes and I sat together," says he, " each glass of wine produced a flash of wit, like gunpowder thrown on the fire, — Pi'jf, Pifff!"^^ But Boswell was quite as fond of receiving compliments from others as of paying them to himself: thus he gravely records, and seems to acquiesce in, the flattery which Dankerville paid him, when he said, " I was the man of genius who had the best heart he had ever known."* No doubt Boswell did at times flatter himself with the idea that he was a man of genius. He was clearly wrong in this estimate ; but the combination of qua- lities he exhibited is certainly so extraordinary as to excuse great differences of opinion with respect to the real nature of his composition as a wdiole. The collection of Boswell's sayings just referred to * Boswelliana. MERIT OF HIS AUTHORSHIP. XXXIX shows, it would seem, that he had not a very just ap- preciation of the comparative vakie of conversations which he heard. His chief merit hes in the extra- ordinary accuracy* of the reports he made, and not in the fehcity with which he chose his opportunities. The record of the veriest commonplace remarks made in Boswell's presence, which subjected him to the ridicule and satire of his contemporaries, has, it is true, a certain value to us at the present day ; but we could have desired other conversations in addition, if not in their stead. If we look, for example, into the Index to the * Life of Johnson,' at the words " wine" and " drinking" with some thirty references, we see an example of the predominance of a subject which, being very interesting to the biographer, is made to assume an undue importance. Boswell seems to have been conscious at times that he threw away opportunities which he might have employed to great * How Boswell prided himself upon his extreme accuracy is amusingly exhibited in the following convei>«ation, which he thought it worth his while to preserve. " One of the gentlemen said, he had seen three /oZjo volumes of Dr. Johnson's Sayings, collected by me," — a harmless remark enough, but not pleasing just then either to Dr. Johnson or Boswell ; whereupon the latter replied, " I must put you right. Sir, for I am very exact in authenticity. You could not see folio volumes, for I have none : you might have seen some in quarto and octavo. This is an inattention which we should guard against." Johnson: "Sir, it is a want of concern about vera- city : he does not know that he saw any volumes ; if he had seen them, he could have remembered their size." The " gentleman" must have been somewhat surprised at the pompous schoolmasterish r(;buke of the owner of the quartos and octavos, topped up by the bitter personality of Dr. Johnson. Xl I NI'HO DICTION. advnntngr ; and lie was probably present on frccpient occasions when he was unable to grasp the subject discussed, or enter into the spirit of the great men who carried on the animated debate. AVlietlur the details which Boswell lias preserved be intrinsically valuable or no, they have the merit of assuring us of the truthfulness of the narrator, and demonstrate the peculiar fitness of the man for doing that which he undertook. He says, in one part of Dr. Johnson's Life,* " I cannot allow any fragment whatever, that floats on my memory concerning the great subject of this Work, to be lost : though a small particular may appear trifling to some, it will be relished by others ; while every little spark adds something to the general blaze ; and, to please the true, candid, warm admirers of Johnson, or in any degree increase the splendour of his reputation, I bid defiance to the shafts of ridicide or even of mahgnity. Show'crs of these have been discharged at my 'Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides;' yet it still sails unhurt along the stream of time, and, as an attendant upon Johnson, ' Pursues the triumpli, and partakes the gale.'" Had Boswell transmitted to posterity \\\^ great con- versations only of Dr. Johnson and his learned as- sociates, leaving unnoted the small "fragments" of ordinary passing conversation,— or had he forgotten to depict the angry roar of irritated combatants, or their uncouth mirth and personal sarcasm, not un- * Septembfr 22, 177?. boswell's works. xli frequently levelled at himself, — we might not have regarded his pictures as so faithful or accurate. Boswell's great production indeed may be likened to a succession of photographs, some more, some less successful, but none " touched up" that they may ap- pear more effective. By an accident, too strong an illumination may occasionally fall upon some insignifi- cant detail, while the leading parts of the scene are left obscure ; or the points of view chosen may some- times not be happy ; or at others the lights and shades may be too violent and abrupt ; but the pictures are nevertheless perfect reflections of all that the medium employed was capable of representing.* Although Boswell is now recognized as an author, through the repute of his ' Life of Johnson,' yet he published several other works, the fame of which has not survived. The following list of his Works is, it is believed, correct : — The Cub, a poem (Dodsley). An Ode to Tragedy. t Contributions to the Collection of Original Poems by Scotch Gentlemen (1762). Letters between the Hon. Andrew Erskine and James Boswell (London, 1763). Journal of a Tour to the * There are innumerable and ludicrous examples of Boswell's pride in his matter-of-factness in the ' Life of Johnson,' particularly when he is depreciating Mrs. Thrale's tales. Thus, when the lady asked Boswell to repeat a story " told you by the old looman" the exulting Boswell cries out, " Now, Madam, give me leave to catch you in the fact ; it was not an old woman, but an old man.^'' f This Ode was published anonymously, and was dedicated by Boswell to himself. It bears the date of 1671, probably a mis- print for 17fil. Sec the J^rskine Correspondence in relation to this production. \lii iNTUonrcTiON. Island of Corsica, with Memoirs of General Taoli ((ilasgow, 17GS). British Essays in favour of the Hra\c" Corsicans, by several hands, collected and pub- lislu'd (London, 1709). The Essence of the Douglas Cause. Decision upon the Question of Literary Pro- perty in the Cause of Ilinton v. Donaldson (1774). Letter to the People of Scotland respecting the alarm- ing attempt to infringe the Articles of the Union, and introduce a most pernicious innovation by diminishing the number of the Lords of Session (Edinburgh, 1785). The Jom-nal of a Tour to the Hebrides (1786). A Conversation between King George III. and Dr. John- son (1790, quarto). The Life of Dr. Samuel Johnson (2 vols, quarto ; Dilly, Poultry, 1791).* To which we may add various Articles in the London Magazine, contributed betw^een the years 1777-1782, entitled the ' Hypochondriac,' and probably ' Dorando,' a tale founded on the mystery of the Douglas Cause, and a Poem on the Slave-trade. He was also a frequent contributor to the magazines throughout his life.f A few words must suffice with regard to Bos well's correspondent, the Rev. AVilham Johnson Temple, * In Watt's ' Bibliotheca Britannica' another work is attributed to Boswell under the title of ' A Series of his Epistolaiy Corre- spondence and Conversations with many eminent persons, and vari- ous Original Pieces of his composition never before published,' etc., 1791. This is however only a part of the titlepage of Dr. Johnson's Life, and descriptive of the contents of that work. f He states that he was a proprietor of the ' London Magazine.' It should be perhaps here mentioned that copies of several of the \\ orks mentioned above have escaped the search made for them. REV. W. J. TEMPLE. xliii LL.B., usually described by Boswell as " my old and most intimate friend." His preferments were the Vicarage of St. Gluvias, Cornwall, and the Rectory of Mamhead, in Devonshire ; and, although little is known of him now, we may infer, from what appears in Boswell's letters and a few other incidental traces, that he was a man of cultivated and literary tastes and amiable character. He published a pamphlet, en- titled ' An Essay on the Clergy, their Studies, Recrea- tions, etc.,' which is referred to in the following pages; also 'A Selection of Historical and Political Memoirs ;' and 'An Historical Essay on the Abuse of Unrestrained Power ' (1778). Mr. Temple and his affairs were fre- quently the subject of correspondence between Nicholls and the poet Gray ;* he was a personal friend of the latter, and furnished a few pages of criticism on his character, which, having by accident found their way into the Life by Mr. Mason, were also subsequently borrowed by Dr. Johnson. f ■Mr. Temple seems to have been a faithful monitor to his friend Boswell, but unfortunately we are not in possession of the letters which were written in reply to those here collected. There is abundant evidence, both in his correspon- dence with Boswell and elsewhere, that Temple had * ' Reminiscences of Gray,' by his intimate friend the Rev. N. NichoUs, 1805 (Mitford's edition : Pickering, 1843). f How this occurred is explained, j90.s^, pp. 174 et seq. "My ' Lives ' are reprinting," writes Dr. Johnson to Temple, "and I have forgotten the author of Gray's character ; write immediately, and it may be perhaps yet inserted." (August 24th, 1782.) xliv INTRODUCTION. to ciulurc no oitliiuuy domestic grievances and pro- fessional disappointments ; but it would interest no one to incjuirc into them here.* Like most other men, wi> shall iind that he had his moments of ambition, l)ut his aspiration after fame and station died a na- tural death, and he passed his hfe in cpiiet privacy. lie survived Boswell but a short time, dying August the 8th, 1796. * The nature of Mr. Temple's discomforts may perhaps be ex- hibited by the following extract fi'om the con*espondence between :^Ir. Nicholls and Gray (May 26, 1770) : — " I have just received the enclosed from poor Temple ; you wUl see best from his own words what he wants, and I am sm*e you Avill feel his situation. . . . He has no other refuge or consolation than his books ; w^hen his mind is unbent from that attention, it sinks into despair. , . . What must I say to him about that resolution of separating, which he seems to speak of seriously ; will it pass oif of itself, or shoidd I dissuade it ? or what can it mean ? Separating only from her bed ? That mil be a source of perpetual ill-humoiu: and misery, if not im- possible ; as for any other separation, how could he possibly afford it?" — (Letter from Nicholls to Gray.) Elsewhere the same writer points out a very likely soui'ce of impleasantness to Mr. Temple ; he says, " They [by which we understand certain influential people in his neighbourhood] do not much like Mrs. Temple at Mam- head." Mr. Nicholls, it woidd seem, applied to Gray to lend Temple assistance in some literaiy speculation. The fonner wiites, 29th Aprd, 1771 : "I did not understand that you w'ere to have the trouble of forming a complete list of authors, but of pointing out a few of the most necessary to make the links of the chain :" to which Gray repHed somewhat tartly, " As if a pack of books and editions were any cure for his uneasiness !" (^lay 3, 1771.) Through the influence of Lord Lisbunae, and after Temple had been obliged to make pecuniary sacrifices on account of his father's misfortunes, he endeavoured to obtain a chaplaincy abroad, but it does not appear that he succeeded in doing so. BOS well's family. xlv The regard and affection which existed between Bos- well and Temple was real and reciprocal, and, begin- ning at College, continued throughout their lives. The following letters exhibit one amiable trait in particular of Boswell's character, viz. the tenacity with which he maintained his feelings of attachment to the friend of his youth. Sir William Forbes, who knew Boswell, has borne witness to the same effect. " His warmth of heart," says he, " towards his friends was very great." He adds, " I have known few men who pos- sessed a stronger sense of piety or more fervent devo- tion (tinctured no doubt with some little share of superstition, which had probably been in some mea- sure fostered by his intimacy with Dr. Johnson), per- haps not always sufficient to regulate his imagination or direct his conduct ; yet still genuine, and founded both in his understanding and his heart."* James Boswell left two sons : the elder. Sir Alex- ander Boswell, was killed in a duel in the year 1822. This lamentable event arose out of some miserable Scotch newspaper squabbles, the disgraceful particulars of w^hich will be found referred to in Mr. Lockhart's 'Life of Scott' and in Lord Cockburn's 'Memoirs,' recently published. " He had dined," says Mr. Lock- hart, " in Castle Street only two or three days before the duel occurred, and the merriest tones of his voice were still ringing in his friends' ears when the fatal intelhgence was received. That evening was, I think, the gayest I ever spent in Castle Street ; and although * ' Life of Dr. Beattie.' \lvi INTRODUCTION. Mr. (IkhIos Mathews was present, and in his best force, poor BosweU's songs, jokes, and anecdotes liad exhi- bited no synii)tonis of echpse. It turned out that lie liad joined tlie party whom he thus delighted imme- diately after completing arrangements for his duel." Sir Alexander Boswell was a frequent guest at Sir AValtcr Scott's social board. Mr. Lockhart affirms that hi' had " all his father Bozzy's cleverness, good-humour, and joviality, without one touch of his meaner quali- ties ; he wrote ' Jenny dang the Weaver' and some other popular songs, Avhich lie sung capitally, and was moreover a thorough bibliomaniac." His brother, James Bos well, was also a man of excellent social qua- lities. He edited an elaborate edition of Malone's 'Shakspeare (1821), in twenty-one volumes, in which wiU also be found a graceful notice of Malone, who was his excellent friend as avcII as his father's. He died suddenly, within a fortnight of the death of Sir Alexander. With regard to the latter pages of this volume, con- taining a few additional Letters, it may be here men- tioned, that they chiefly consist of the Correspondence between Andrew Erskine and Boswell. For reasons which have been stated elsewhere,* and which the Letters themselves present, it has been thought that it would be interesting thus to append some of them to this book. The Hon. Andrew Erskine was a younger son of the Earl of Kellie,t and held, as will be seen, a com- * Pages 16 and 359. f Alexander, Fifth Earl of Kellie. ANDREW ERSKINE. xlvii mission in the 71st Regiment of Foot, whence sub- sequently he changed into the 24th Regiment of Foot. His mother was daughter of Dr. Archibald Pitcairn, the Jacobite Physician and Poet ; so that possibly from this source Captain Erskine may have derived his literary tastes. His eldest brother (after- wards Earl of Kellie) was a remarkable musical genius, and was probably preserved from permanent fame as a composer by the fortune of being a Peer.* The latter circumstance however did not interfere with his success as a hon vivant, a character in which he ob- tained considerable renown in his day. In this respect he resembled his brother Andrew. Had these men indeed been obliged to exert the talents with which they were endowed, no inconsiderable name would have been achieved ; but, situated as they were, for them to have secured this would have been probably to make too great a sacrifice of immediate comforts and pleasures, which they could always command. Andrew Erskine did not further meddle with lite- rature beyond publishing his 'Town Eclogues,' and amuing himself occasionally, as it would seem, with the ephemeral periodicals of the day. He died un- married, in 1793. Frequent references will be found in the following * It is said that this Nobleman had extraordinary facility in com- posing. It was one of his amusements, when he chanced to meet an itinerant band, to retain their services, whilst he wrote off the different parts for the several instruments. These compositions, which had the reputation of having great merit, were however rarely preserved. xlviii INTRODUCTION. paijos to tlio ' Tiifi' of Johnson.' The valuable editions In Mr. Crokir aiv of course those which have been used ; but as they arc numerous, and a new one is stated to be in the press, it has been thought better to make the refcM-ences for the most part by dates instead of pages. LETTERS JAMES BOSWELL. CHAPTER I. 1758-1761. BOSWELL's early style of letter-writing. — THE " ELEGANCE OF FRIENDSHIP." — ELFRIDA. INTRODUCTION TO DAVID HUME. HIS CHARACTER. FALLS IN LOVE WITH MISS W T. HER QUALITIES AND FORTUNE. MR. LOVE, THE PLAYER. SIR DAVID DALRYMPLE. CAMBRIDGE. STUDY OF LAW AT EDINBURGH. DR. JOHNSON's BUMPER TO LORD HAILES. BOSWELL ON HEIRS MALE AND TREATMENT OF DAUGHTERS. — JOURNALIZING. The two following letters were written when Boswell was but eighteen years of age. Even at this early period of his life we see, strongly marked, some of those qualities of mind which have been referred to in the preceding pages; such, for instance, as his fond- ness for the society of celebrated persons, his facility for fancying himself in love, and the entirely erroneous conception he had of his own character. These two letters afford a fan- specimen of the style of correspondence current at that time among young men of his class. 2 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. 1.] FAUnburgh, 2^/1/ July, 1758. Dear Sir, Your very obliging letter came safe to hand two clays ago. I spoke to rny father again about my going to Berwick ; but as he still disapproved of it, and as he has been so kind as to promise to take me the North Circuit \vith him, I really could not insist upon it, so you nuist excuse me from havhig the pleasure of wait- ing upon you this season. What my Lord said was very just, that it was not long since we saw one another (not long indeed in the eye of the world, but to faithful friends a tedious absence), and that our being separated for some time would greatly enhance the happiness of our meeting ; besides, as I would be hurried just now, it would not be so agreeable, and I might be in some danger of being the worse for it, which would be very unlucky ; so that really when I impartially weigh all circumstances, I begin to be convinced that it is better to delay it till another year, when I hope to have the pleasure of making a deliberate visit, when we can en- joy all the elegance of friendship, talk over our several studies, and take an agreeable jaunt through North- umberland. I congratulate you on the entertainment you re- ceived from the two performances yon mention. ' Elfrida '* I have seen, but never read it ; however I * This Play was written by Mason, the biographer of Gray. It was brought out with the music of Arne. Dr. Johnson summed up its merits thus : " There are now and then some good imitations of Milton's bad manner." MR. HUME. d intend to have it on your recommendation. I will not compliment you on your exact judgement and nice discernment, but only say, as we have pretty much a similarity of taste, what pleases you must likeways please me. That on the Spleen (if done with spirit) will be very entertaining. I suppose by this time you are returned from your expedition to the Newcastle Assizes. I hope you have been well entertained, and are the better for the ride. Some days ago I was introduced to your friend Mr. Hume ; he is a most discreet, affable man as ever I met with, and has really a great deal of learning, and a choice collection of books. He is indeed an extra- ordinary man, — few such people are to be met with nowadays. We talk a great deal of genius, fine lan- guage, improving our style, etc., but I am afraid solid learning is much wore out. Mr. Hume, I think, is a very proper person for a young man to cultivate an ac- quaintance with. Though he has not perhaps the most delicate taste, yet he has applied himself with great attention to the study of the ancients, and is likewise a great historian, so that you are not only entertained in his company, but may reap a great deal of useful instruction. I own myself much obliged to you, dear Sir, for procuring me the pleasure of his acquaintance. Rapin goes on with me apace. I continue, thank God, in pretty good health and spirits. You know I gave you a hint in m.y last of the con- tinuance of my passion for Miss W 1.* I assure * The name of this young lady has escaped through Boswell's B 2 4 LETTKUS or lH)S\Vr.lJ-. you I am oxcossivcly fond of lior, so (as I have given you fair warning) don't be surprised if your grave, sedate, i)1iilosopliic friend, wiio used to carry it so liigli. and talk with sueh a composed inditference of the beauteous sex, and whom you used to admonish not to turn an okl man too soon, — don't be thunder- struck if this same fellow should all at once, suhito furore obrepti(s, conamence Don Quixote for his ador- able Dulcinea. But to talk seriously, I at first fell violently in love with her, and thought I should be quite miserable if I did not obtain her ; but now it is changed to a rational esteem of her good qualities, so that I should be extremely happy to pass my life with her ; but if she does not incline to it, I can bear it aquo amnio, and retire into the calm regions of philosophy. She is indeed extremely pretty, and possessed of every amiable qualification ; she dances, sings, and plays upon several instruments equally well, draws with a great deal of taste, and reads the best authors ; at the same time she has a just regard for true piety and religion, and behaves in the most easy, affable way. She is just such a young lady as I could wish for the partner of my soul ; and you know that is not every one; for you and I have often talked how nice we would be in such a choice. I own I can have but little hopes, as she is a fortune of thirty thousand pounds. Heaven knows that sordid motive is farthest from my prudence iu thus wi-iting it. The loss is quite immaterial, especially as his "passion" subsided, very naturally, and she is not heard of again beyond the present Chapter. FALLING IN LOVE. thoughts. She invited me to come and wait upon her, so I went last week and drank tea. I was kindly entertained, and desired to come when convenient. I have reason to believe she has a very good opinion of me : and, indeed, a youth of my tiu-n has a better chance to gain the affections of a lady of her character than of any other ; but (as I told you before) my mind is in such an agreeable situation, that being refused would not be so fatal as to drive me to despair, as your hot-brained romantic lovers talk. Now, my dear friend, I sincerely ask ten thousand pardons for giving you the trouble of this long narration ; but as it is a thing that concerns me a good deal, I could not but communicate it to you, and I know, when I inform you how happy it makes me to open my mind, you will forgive me. Pray never speak of it : you are the only person knows of it, except Mr. Love,* who reads with her, and takes every unsuspected method to lend me his friendly assistance. Oh, Willie ! how happy should I be if she consented, some years after this, to make me blest ! How transporting to think of such a lady to entertain you at Auchinleck ! However I am * This, we may presume, was " Mr. Love, of Drury Lane Thea- tre," and once " a player at Edinburgh," a gentleman with whom Boswell himself had studied, in order to purify his pronunciation from the Scotch accent. Johnson, it will be remembered, when Boswell referred to this training of his dialect, condescended to re- ply, " Sir, your pronunciation is not offensive," with which conces- sion Boswell says he "was pretty well satisfied." (Boswell's John- son, March, 1773.) Tlie envoy thus curiously selected by Boswell was also manager of the Edinburgh Theatre at one time, as well as an actor and small dramatic author. 6 LETTERS OF UOSWELL. afraid yon may too justly retort upon nic TToracc's advice to his friend, — " Koctius vivos, T^icini, iioquc altum Niiuis urgciulo." Yon nuist know I am vastly happy with the thoughts of the North Circuit ; my worthy Mascenas, Sir David Dalrymplc, goes as Advocate Depute; there I will enjoy the happiness of his agreeable and improving conversation, and see the country with a double relish in such refined company. Pray write me on the 5th, which I will take as a particular favour, for we go to Anchinlcck the week after next, and set out for the north soon after, so that our correspondence will be interrupted for some time. Let me know what yoiu* motions are intended to be, and whether or not you are going to Cambridge. Lord Auchinleck and my mother return theii- compliments. Your affectionate friend, James Boswell. 2.] TAVinhmjh, \Ul Dec, 1758. My dear Sir, Your very kind and obliging letter gave me the greatest pleasure ; and the more so as I have not been so happy as to hear from you for some time. The warm professions you make of the continuance of your friendship for me made me almost weep with joy, as I know them to be the genuine sentiments of your heart : even the compliments you are pleased to pay me I believe sincere. FRIENDSHIP. / Surely you could not be in earnest to entertain the least suspicion that your not writing should have offended me ; no, my dear Sir, I am happily free of a jealous temper, and could form numberless excuses for the omission. It would be needless for me to de- scribe what I have felt in absence from my better part ; your beautiful and moving letter speaks my in- most thoughts. May indulgent Heaven grant a con- tinuance of our friendship ! As our minds improve in knowledge, may the sacred flame still increase, until at last we reach the glorious world above, when we shall never be separated, but enjoy an everlasting so- ciety of bliss ! Such thoughts as these employ my happy moments, and make me " Feel a secret joy Spring o'er my heart, beyond the pride of kings." I sympathize with you in the want of agreeable com- panions, as it is pretty much my own case. Poor Hamilton wrote me lately ; he is still bad, but hopes to be soon here. Hepbairn has been confined for some days, but is almost well again. Both these are very pretty young gentlemen ; but at the same time there is all the odds in the world between a compa- nion and a friend to whom one can disclose every tender sentiment. I dare say it gives you much un- easiness to be amongst so profligate a set. I hope, by Divine assistance, you shall still preserve your amiable character amidst all the deceitful blandishments of vice and folly. I envy your happiness in being with 8 LETTERS OF BOSWETiT.. the miich-aclinircd gcntloiimii you meiitioii. The time seems to pass very agreeably at Cambridge. T ean assure you the study of the law here is a most laborious task. In return for yours I shall give you an aecount of my studies. From nine to ten I attend the law-class ; from ten to eleven study at home ; and from one to two attend a College upon Roman Anti- quities J the afternoon and evening I likeways spend in study : I never walk except on Saturdays. During the vacancy, in harvest, I went along with my father to the Northern Circuit, and was so happy as to be in the same chaise as Sir David Dalrymple the whole way. I kept an exact journal, at the particular desire of my friend Mr. Love, and sent it to him in sheets every post. He is really a man who, I must say, is my second-best friend. He has not only taste, genius, and learning, but a good heart, and thus prettily speaks in one of his poems : — " Yirtue and happiness unite in one, As light and heat Ijoth centre in the sun." The poem you have obliged me with is very pretty ; if it is done by an acquaintance, you are happy in knowing him, but I should imagine it the production of my friend : pray let me know if it is. To encourage you, I have enclosed a few trifles of my own. One of the Epigrams is a true story of Major Cochran (now Earl of Dundonald) and j\Ir. Webster, but this I tell you inter nos. I have published now and then the production of a leisure hour in the magazines. If any LORD HAILES. 9 of these Essays can give entertainment to my friend, I shall be extremely happy. My father and mother retm^n your compliments in the best manner, and retain a just esteem for you. Your most sincere and affectionate friend, James Boswell. Sir David Dalrymple mentioned above was appointed one of the Judges of Scotland in 1776, under the title of Lord Hailes. Boswell always expresses great affec- tion and regard for him, and his name is frequently introduced into the ' Life of Johnson.' It occurs there chiefly through the officiousness of Boswell, who de- lighted to set his acquaintance upon writing or talk- ing of each other. Dr. Johnson, for instance, is made on one occasion to do honour to the Judge by drink- ing a bumper to him, " as a man of worth, a scholar, and a wit." " I have, however," continued he to Bos- well, " never heard of him except from you ; but let him know my opinion of him, for, as he does not show himself much in the world, he should have the praise of the few who hear of him." Boswell indeed takes upon himself to affirm that Lord Hailes was " one of the best philologists in Great Britain, who has written papers in the ' World,' and a variety of other works in prose and English." What struck Boswell, however, as convincing evidence of his Lordship's " wonderful acumen" would not be the proof which perhaps other people might consider conclusive on the subject. It 10 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. occurred on occasion of the Judge's " pointing out exactly," in an argument presented l)y BoswcU to the Court of Session, of which Dr. Johnson had contri- huted a i)ortion, wliat part liad emanated from the Doctor's pen, and Avhat was the lawyer's own pro- duction. When Bos well's mind, manv vcars after the date of the above letter, was troubled about settling his family estate, which he wished to entail on his heirs male. Dr. Johnson recommended him to tell his "whole mind" to Lord Hailes.* " He is, you know, both a Christian and a lawyer; I suppose he is above partiality and above locjuacity." Bos well acted on this advice, and his Lordship " obligingly took the trouble to write " on the interesting topic, and gave his judgment against Bos- well's view ; but notwithstanding his deep respect for the learned Judge, his " partiality for male succession in its full extent remained unshaken." He adds how- ever the following generous and touching sentiment : — " Let me not be thought harsh or unkind to daugh- ters, for my notion is that they should he treated loith affection and tenderness, and alivays jjarticipate of the property of the family." It will be noted too that Boswell had already begun to keep an exact journal. Thus, doubtless, on the journey of the Circuit Sir David Dalrymple was un- consciously affording to the biographer of Johnson an opportunity of practising the art which he used to such perfection at a subsequent period. * Letter to Boswell, Jan. 15, 1776. JOURNALIZING. 11 The epigram referred to at the close of the letter " as a true story of Major Cochran," is lost, although it may possibly have been founded on the anecdote mentioned by Boswell in the ' Life of Johnson ' as a " little story of my early years, which was literally true," and which the Doctor used thus to tell : — "Boswell, in the year 1745, was a fine boy, wore a white cockade, and prayed for King James, till one of his uncles (General Cochran) gave him a shilling on condition that he would pray for King George, which he accordingly did. So you see," adds Boswell, " that Whigs of all ages are made the same way." 12 CHAPTER 11. 1761-1763. ATTUACTIOXS OF LONDON. — BOSWELL's TASTE FOR THE ARMY. DISTASTE FOB FIGHTING. — DISGUST FOR SCOTLAND. HIS FEMALE FRIENDS. — HIS POEM, ' THE CLUB AT NEWMARKET.' CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE HON. ANDREW ERSKINE. Notwithstanding the ardent determination expressed three years before to prosecute this correspondence assiduously, it seems to have flagged ; or if there were occasional letters written during the interval, their real value may have been duly estimated, and they were accordingly destroyed, or may have been acciden- tally lost. The following letter, written in the spring of 17G1, contains the oft-repeated assertion, so familiar to all readers of the great biography, " that Boswell's hap- piness was always centred in London." He had visited the JMetropolis the previous year, and there, it would seem, became imbued " with the most gay ideas," which he thus enumerates: — -"getting into the Guards, being about Court, enjoying the happi- ness of the heaii monde and the company of men of genius." "With respect to getting into the Guaids, TASTE FOR THE ARMY. 13 altlioiigli Boswell was anxious to enter the army at this period, it was that he might strut in scarlet and gokl and enjoy convivial life and congenial society, rather than that he might mingle in bloody war. He informs us indeed frankly, in his letter to the people of Scotland (1785), that he " is not blest with high he- roick blood, but rather I think troubled with a natural timidity of personal danger, which it costs me some philosophy to overcome." But he adds, " I am per- suaded 1 have so much real patriotism in my breast that I should not hesitate to draw my sword in your defence." His martial aspirations however were relinquished, to the great satisfaction of his father, whose judgment indeed in this matter received corroboration from an- other source; for Boswell narrates that, having been presented in the year 1760 to the Duke of Argyle, his Grace was much pleased with him, and " taking his father aside, said, ' My Lord, I like your son ; this boy must not be shot at for three-and-sixpence a day.' "* 3.] Edinbunjh, Id May, 1761. My dear Temple, I was favoured with yours some posts ago ; 1 hope you received mine : they were written, it seems, on the same day. It gave me infinite pleasure to find that you con- tinue to regard me, and have still got as warm a con- * Boswelliaiia, in I'hilobiblioii, vol. ii. 1 I LETTERS OF BOSWELL. ccrii for my interest as ever ; but oh, my friend ! how couhl you imagine that my esteem for you was in the smallest degree abated ! Can you suppose my taste to be so depraved, my mind so degenerated, as not to love and respect so worthy an object ! Indeed, my dear Temple, you wrong me ; you are, and ever shall be, dear to Boswell, who reckons himself highly ho- noured by an intimacy with Mr. Temple, and, while he comforts himself with that, can calmly smile at the attacks of envy or of malevolence. I find that you have had a very disagreeable account of my conduct for some time by post. I flatter myself that the apo- logetic epistle, which I wrote you lately, may have put matters in a more favourable light. I grant you that my behaviour has not been entirely as it ought to be. A young fellow whose happiness was always centred in London, who had at least got there, and had be- gun to taste its delights, who had got his mind filled with the most gay ideas, — getting into the Guards, being about Court, enjoying the happiness of the beau monde and the company of men of genius, in short everything that he could wish, — consider this poor fellow hauled away to the towm of Edinburgh, obliged to conform to every Scotch custom or be laughed at, — "Will you hae some jeel? oh fie! oh fie!" — his flighty imagination cjuite cramped, and he obliged to study Corpus Juris Civilis, and live in his father's strict family ; is there any wonder. Sir, that the un- lucky dog should be somewhat fretful ? Yoke a New^- market courser to a dung-cart, and I '11 lay my life 'the club at NEWMARKET.' 15 on't he'll either caper and kick most confoundedly, or be as stupid and restive as an old, battered posthorse. Not one in a hundred can understand this ; you do. Your insinuation about my being indelicate in the choice of my female friends, I must own, surprises me a good deal. Pray, what is the meaning of it?* * * * If there is anything more serious couched under your admonition, please to inform me ; I will surely clear it up. I have sent you an epistle, which indolence has at length permitted me to finish. You may see by the date when it was begun. Write me soon, and believe me ever yours, James Boswell. The close of the next year (17G2) saw Boswell again in his dear London, where Mr. Temple and he had probably frequent opportunities of meeting ; and when, shortly afterguards, the latter was obliged to leave the Metropolis for Cambridge, he lent Boswell his cham- bers at Farrar's Buildings, in the Temple. Boswell published, in 1763, a little poem, ' The Club at Newmarket.' It does not seem to have had any great success, though probably all it merited; and indeed, having chronicled the fact of the publication of the poem, it should be added, perhaps, that its perusal will not repay any one, unless he may desire to satisfy a special curiosity as to what some persons * The writer here enters upon detailed, hut not very satisfaetory extenuations of his eonduet, into wliicli it is not at all desirable to follow him. 16 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. could write and others coulil read, under the name of poetry, in the micUlle of the last century. Bosw ell M as also carrying on a " humorous " corre- sjiondenee with the Honoural)le Andrew Erskine, which was published in 17G3. These letters are very charac- teristic of Boswell, as Avell as illustrative of the tone affected in the society in which he at this time mingled. It is not so curious that such a series of letters, chiefly dedicated to personal banter, should have passed be- tween two young associates, as that the writers should have allowed them to be given to the w^orld. We may perhaps attribute then* publication to Boswell's passion for notoriety at any cost. Rather than live unnoticed in society, he would incur its ridicule. It is clear in- deed that he infinitely preferred being the object even of bitter contumely and satire to dwelling in the quiet of obscurity. Some of the Erskine correspondence will be found at the end of this volume. It may serve to illustrate in some degree the mode of thought and the epistolary style adopted by young and gay litterateurs a century since. 17 CHAPTER III. 1763. MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF DR. JOHNSON. — CHARACTER OF A TRUE FRIEND. MR. DEMPSTER. CRITICISM. SUPPER WITH MR. JOHNSON. BOSWELL's NEW PLAN OF LIFE. — THE PEN- SIVE GRAY AND THE APOTHECARY GRAY. BOB TEMPLE. JOHNSON ON THE ART OF STUDY. — BOSWELL ON THE ADVAN- TAGES OF ADVERSITY. DR. JOHNSON's ROOMS IN THE TEMPLE. — SUPPER AT THE TURK's HEAD. PREPARATION FOR TRAVEL. DR. JOHNSON ACCOMPANIES HIM TO HARWICH. — WRITES HIM A LETTER OF PRECEPTS. The year 1763 was to Boswell a memorable one; "for in it," says he,* " 1 had the happiness to obtain the acquaintance of that extraordinary man whose Memoirs I am now writing, — an acquaintance which 1 shall ever esteem as one of the most fortunate cir- cumstances in my life." The amusing account of his first meeting with Dr. Johnson, "on Monday, the 16tli of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back par- lour, after I had drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies," is one of those graphic accounts which will be found nowhere but in Boswell's wonderful work. The nar- * * Life of Johnson,' anno 1763. IS LETTERS or BOSWELL. rative tells \is the whole story, however much to his disadvantage : how he was snubbed in all ways ; how he was " stunned" by the Doctor's reply to his " light pleasantry" as to "coming from Scotland," but not being able to help it ; how this " light pleasantry," he is willing to flatter himself, was "meant to soothe and conciliate" the great object of his admiration, and "not as a humihating abasement at the expense of my country ;" how, being " eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ventured to say, * Oh, Sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you'" (an order to the Play) ; how he was forthwith crushed by the prompt retort, " I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject ;" how, feeling somewhat mortified, he yet " remained on the field, not wholly discomfited," and succeeded in pick- ing up a page or two of the Doctor's talk ; how gladly he gave credit to the wag Davies, the bookseller, when told by him, " Don't be uneasy, I can see Mr. Johnson likes you very well;" and how, gathering up courage enough in a few days to call on the "giant in his den," he is courteously received, and forthwith sticks resolutely by him (except when drawn off by some other passion) for the rest of the great man's life, that he may recount it. He however finds time still to write to his friend. The next letter is dated from Temple's chambers, which Boswell says he found very convenient on account of their contiguity to Dr. John- son's, TRUE FRIENDSHIP. 19 4.] Inner Temple, 12 tJi July, 1763. My dear Temple, Your very kind letter did me much good. I stood in need of it, I assure you. For the want of your conversation, and the want of one who could patiently hear mine, is no small want, I can indeed get people enough who are fond of my conversation when I am cheerful and lively and can contribute to their mirth ; but nobody but a sincere friend can listen to my com- plaints when oppressed with melancholy. A true friend differs much from a companion. The latter loves some particular qualities which one has : the former loves the man himself, — loves him when gay and loves him when dejected. Such a friend, my dear Sir, I have the comfort to possess in you. Our friendship is now firmly established. By long separation we had a severe trial. Had not our regard been very well rooted, it might have died away, and other plants have sprung up in its place ; but I thank Heaven that by our last meeting for some months in London, we have happily seen that we love each other as much as ever. I am now secure : I dread not its continuance while we live, and I will not quit the hope of its lasting longer than this existence. I should have written to you before today, but have had a languor and absence of ideas ; even now T am at a loss for a few sentences. I have given you the feelings of my heart, and I can find no help from my head. To atone for this, I send you my journal of last autumn, which may perhaps amuse you a little : you will laugh at my whim, and c 2 20 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. be sorry for my Avcakiicss. I insist on your showing it to nobody, and I beg that you may retm'u it when you have read it. It may be sent in parcels, enclosed to " George Dempster, Esq., Member of Parliament, Manchester Buildings, Westminster." I have finished Hume's History. Bob is well and offers compliments. Claxton supped with us last night ; I really like him much. I shall soon make you a better answ^er to your last. I ever am your most sincere friend, James Bosw^ell. Mr. Dempster here mentioned w^as, it will be re- membered, the gentleman who, according to Bosvvell, was so struck " with the imperfect account I gave him of Dr. Johnson's conversation that, to his honour be it recorded, when I complained that drinking port and sitting up late with him affected my nerves for some time after, he said, ' One had better be palsied at eigh- teen than not keep company with such a man.' " He w^as confederated about this time with the Honour- able Andrew Erskine and Boswell in waiting a pam- phlet in abuse of the tragedy of ' Elvira,' by Mallet. Both pamphlet and tragedy are gone whither many such productions have gone, and still will go ; but, having been the occasion of a remark by Dr. Johnson, reported by Boswell, the fact of their existence happens to be preserved by this circumstance. The remark was to the effect that a man has a clear right to criticize a RIGHTS OF CRITICISM. 21 work though he could not himself have produced it. It has been said also by some one else, when rebuked in like manner for condemning a book which, it was al- leged, he could not have written as well, " But I could have done better ; I could have left it alone." In this case Dempster, it would seem, according to the Bos- wellian narrative, had relented with respect to the part he played in writing these "critical strictures," and, having some qualms of conscience, candidly said, " We have hardly a right to abuse this tragedy, for, bad as it is, how vain would either of us be to write one not near so good !" Johnson : " Why no. Sir ; this is not just reasoning. You ma?/ abuse a tragedy, though you cannot make one. You may scold a carpenter who has made you a bad table, though ^ou cannot make a table : it is not your trade to make tables." In the following letter will be found Boswell's an- nouncement to his friend that he had " the honour of supping tete-a-tete with Mr. Johnson." This supper, with the conversation which took place during the re- past, will be found in its proper place in the ' Life of Johnson.' The supper was at the 'Mitre,' and Bos- well says, " It happening to be a very rainy night, I made some commonplace observations on the relaxation of nerves and depression of spirits which such weather occasioned, adding, however, that it was good for the vegetable creation."*" The remark is perhaps a very * 'Lifcof .lohnsou :' soe also on the 20tli of .July, wlion Boswcll again fell upon the weather and the Doctor again fell upon him for so doing. 23 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. good sample of Boswell's share in his dialogues with Johnson ; and it will be a never-ceasing source of won- der how a man who, according to his own account, rarely speaks anything but what is more or less weak, connnonplace, and foolish, could understand, remem- ber, and record the eloquence and wisdom of others. We find Boswell now writing to his friend about the " plan of life" which, for a time, was to separate him from the beloved London and the beworshipped Doctor. The plan of life was " a resolution of some importance to him." " I had," says he elsewhere, " in compliance with my father's wishes, agreed to study the Law, and was soon to set out for Utrecht to hear the lectures of an excellent civilian in that University, and then to proceed on my travels." Probably his father had heard that his son was not pursuing a very steady path, from persons well informed on the matter, and who might have — " wondered that Ms Lordship Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ; While other men of slender reputation Put forth their oons to seek preferment out, .... Some to the University." 5.] Inner Temple, \Wi July, 1763. My dear Temple, When my last letter w^as written (or rather writing) I was exceedingly dull, not melancholy, but merely stupid. I dare say my letter would show that plainly, ENJOYMENT OF SOCIETY. 23 and I dare say you have expected an atonement for it before now. Well can I imagine the feelings which you describe upon your returning to Cambridge. Mine were very similar when I found myself in the country after being in London. The animal spirits, accustomed to be put in motion by the variety of bustling life, must be flat and torpid in the stillness of retirement. Habit, to be sure, is of great influence ; but our minds are surely somewhat different in their original composition. Some people can support retirement, and others are miserable without society ; and yet the minds of these people have been cultivated, or allowed to remain uncultivated, in the same degree. Tor my own part, retirement has always sunk toqj spirits ; and I cannot say that I ever had any uneasy sensations upon coming to town, al- though I had not been accustomed to a town for some time. What is remarkable in my case is, that I am not fond of much society, but, on the contrary, choose to live a good deal by myself. But then in London you can either have or want company, just as you please, so that you enjoy perfect freedom ; and if any style of living you may be in is disagreeable to you, you have the comfort to think that it will not be long ere you get rid of it, and pursue any other plan which you may find to be most agreeable. Your portrait of a fellow of college is certainly just ; however there are, no doubt, exceptions. There are many of them, I suppose, men of genius and elegance. You surprise me a good deal when you tell me that Mr. 24 LETTERS OF BOSWELL, Gray says he never saw Mi-. Ogilvie: there must be some strange mistake. I fancy Mr. Gray has either said so, a good time ago, before Mr. Ogilvie was at Cambridge, or perhaps there may be another Mr. Gray whom he has been introduced to, instead of the pensive Gray. I asked Ogilvie yesterday, and he is positive he was in- troduced to Mr. Gray by a fellow of " King's," whose name he has forgot. He says he never doubted his being with the author of the 'Elegy in a Country Chm-chyard,' although he owns that they did not speak a word about poetry. He says they were some hours together in the best inn at Cambridge. I wish you would take the trouble to find out how the aflPair has really happened, and let me know.* I have been much in my dissipated .way since you went away. I have only finished Hume, and read Harris on Happiness, which is very sensible and accu- rate ; but I cannot help thinking that he had better have given us it in the form of an essay, as he has treated of poetry, painting, and music. The dialogue which he has chosen is, in my opinion, a disadvantage. A young lady who looked at it said, " If this man had all the sense in the world, it would do me no good, for I could not attend to it for laughing." And indeed a frequent repetition of " said he" and " I replied" is * This mistaking Mr. Gray (au apothecary) at a public-liouse for Gray the poet, and the curious zeal which Boswell shows for getting to the bottom of such an insignificant fact, are characteristic traits of character. The Mr. Ogilvie here spoken of is often referred to in the ' Life of Johnson.' PLAN OF LIFE. 25 somewhat awkward and ludicrous. You must excuse this critical pleasantry on one of your favourite writers. I must say this for him, that I rose from reading his dialogue happier and more disposed to follow virtue. July 1 Wi. — I began this letter yesterday, but was pre- vented from finishing it by some little accidents. The longer I talk to you in this way, so much the better will it be for me. I have had a long letter from my father, full of affection and good counsel. Honest man ! he is now very happy : it is amazing to think how much he has had at heart my pursuing the road of civil life ; he is anxious for fear I should fall off from my prudent system, and return to my dissipated, unsettled way of thinking ; and, in order to make him easy, he insists on having my solemn promise that I will persist in the scheme on which he is so earnestly bent : he knows my fidelity, and he concludes that my promise will fix me. Indeed he is much in the right ; the only ques- tion is, how much I am to promise. I think I may promise thus much : that I shall from this time study propriety of conduct, and to be a man of knowledge and prudence, as far as I can; that I shall make as much improvement as possible while I am abroad, and when I return shall put on the gown as a member of the Faculty of Advocates, and be upon the footing of a gentleman of business, with a view to my getting into Parliament. My father talks of my setting out soon, but says he will soon write to me fixing my allowance ; I imagine therefore that I shall go the week after next. I feel no small reluctance at leaving 20 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. tliis great Metropolis, wliicli I heartily agree with you is the best place in the world to live in. My dear friend, I find that London must be the place where I shall pass a great part of my life, if I w^sh to pass it with satisfaction. 1 hope we shall spend many happy years there, when we are both settled as to views of life and habits of living ; in the meantime, let me endeavour to acquire steadiness and constant propriety of con- duct, without which we never can enjoy what I fondly hope for. The great Robert* continues as great as ever; he displays that vigour of genius and intense application for which he is so famous, — in washing his face and brushing his hat, which he will execute in a few hours : and he has lately shown a coup de maitre in wash- ing some old ribbons, so as to make them look every bit as well as when they were new. Poor Bob is a pretty, genteel, lively boy ; but you must make him acquire some more knowledge, else his stock will soon be exhausted. I find it somewhat inconvenient to have anybody in chambers with me. I wish you had him down at Cambridge with you. However we are very good friends, only I have unluckily allow^ed him to be too free with me ; and I own it hurts me when I find my folly bringing me into the situation of being upon an equality with, if not below, the young man. However, when I return from abroad you shall see a change for the better, f. * A younger brother of Mr. Temple. . t .TMs naive confession of Boswell is doubtless true : he is often SUPPER WITH DR. JOHNSON. 27 I bad the honour of supping tete-a-tete with Mr. Johnson last night ; by the bye, I need not have used a French phrase. We sat till between two and three. He took me by the hand cordially and said, " My dear Boswell, I love you very much." Now, Tem- ple, can I help indulging vanity ? Sir David Dal- rymple says to me, in his last letter, " It gives me pleasure to think that you have obtained the friend- ship of Mr. Samuel Johnson : he is one of the best moral writers which England has produced. At the same time I envy you the free and undisguised con- verse with such a man. I beg you to present my best respects to him, and to assure him of the vene- ration which I entertain for the author of the ' Rambler' and of ' Rasselas.' In ' Rasselas ' you will see a tender- hearted operator, who probes the wound only to heal it. Swift, on the contrary, mangles human nature ; he cuts and slashes as if he took pleasure in the ope- ration, like the tyrant who said, Ita feri, id se sentiat emori."-f Mr. Johnson was in vast good humour, and we had much conversation. I mentioned Eresnoy to him, but he advised me not to follow a plan, and he de- clared that he himself never followed one above two seen letting himself down naturally ; and on finding his vanity somewhat hurt thereby, he tries to raise himself again rather awkwardly and unsuccessfully. f This passage of Sir David's letter was the one which Boswell read to, and which, as he says, " gratified Dr. Johnson." It was the return for the compliments which we have seen Boswell had procured for Sir David i'rom Dr. Johnson. 28 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. days. lie advised me to read just as inclination prompted nie, whicli alone he said would do nie any good ; for I had better go into company than read a set task. Let us study ever so much, we must still be ignorant of a good deal. Therefore the question is, what parts of science do we want to know ? He said, too, that idleness was a distemper which I ought to combat against, aud that I should prescribe to my- self five hours a day, and in these hours gratify Avhat- ever literary desires may spring up.* He is to give me his advice as to what books I should take with me from England. I told him that the ' Rambler' shall accompany me round Europe, and so be a Rambler indeed : he gave me a smile of complacency. My dear friend, I ever am Yours most sincerely, James Boswell. The above disquisitions upon the follies of youth, and the characteristics of his friend ' Bob,' have a pe- culiar value, coming as they do from the poor Boswell whose infirmities in some respects resemble those he attributes to and laments over in Bob. Reference will be found in several passages in the ensuing letter to the difficulties into which Mr. Tem- ple's father fell. They are only preserved here inas- * " No profit grows where is no pleasm*e ta'en, In brief, Su-, study what yon most affect." Taming of the Shrew. PARSIMONY VANQUISHED. 29 much as tliey were the occasion (as will be seen presently) of a curious application being made to Sir A. Mitchell on behalf of Temple's family by Boswell, which at all events was creditable to his kindness of heart.* Boswell undertook also to write letters of comfort and moral wisdom to his unfortunate friend ; one of which is as follows. 6.] hmer Temple, IWi July, 1763. My dear Sir, It is a kind of established rule, in writing letters, to begin with acknowledging the receipt of our corre- spondent's last favours. I should have done so just now were it not for an antipathy of established rules, which I have not yet altogether got the better of. You pay me some genteel compliments on the plea- sure which my letters gave you. I could return you them fourfold ; for I give you my honest word that even glittering guineas do not give me more pleasure. As I have now vanquished my demon of narrowness, the assertion is not near so strong as it would have been not many weeks ago. The enclosed letter from your father came to hand yesterday. I took the liberty to open it, being anxious to know what he had done in your affairs. I was sm*- prised to find that he does not say a word in answer to your proposal that he should go abroad, and I think he seems too much inclined to delay. You will under- * ^QQ, post, p. 55. 80 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. stand all the circii instances which he mentions better than I could. 1 wish from my soul that matters were settled, as you could know clearly how much you have to depend upon. You have indeed, my friend, been very unfortunate at your entry into life ; but your bad fortune has served as a touchstone to try your virtue, — of the power of which neither your friends nor even yourself could be so fully convinced had prosperity beamed upon you with unclouded ray. This is very good after-reasoning ; but I fancy there are few phi- losophers who would court adversity merely to be con- vinced how well they could behave. However, my friend, it is certainly true philosophy to submit to the will of Heaven, and to fulfil the amiable duties of morality. Bob has been obliged to go down to Salisbury to attend the Assizes, w^here the appeal from the court- martial of his regiment is to be tried. His expenses are to be borne out of the regimental money : Cam- bers, theii* attorney, supplied him. He went down upon Sunday. I accompanied him to Hounslow, and returned to town in the return-chaise. Bob and I were better together the two last days; he will do very well. I have introduced him at Mr. Dempster's ; we breakfasted there on Saturday. Dempster and Miss Dempster are both very fond of him. I have now had full and free possession of the chambers ; I like them much -. it is the best way for a single man to live that I can imagine. I was with Mr. Johnson today. I was in his garret. DR. Johnson's chambers, 31 up four pair of stairs ; it is very airy, commands a view of St. Paul's and many a brick roof. He lias many good books, but they are all lying in confusion and dust. I ever am your sincere friend, James Boswell. The inspection of Dr. Johnson's rooms in Inner Temple Lane, mentioned in this letter, was performed under the auspices of the Doctor's humble friend, Robert Levett, and is thus described by Boswell in his 'Life:' — "Mr. Levett this day showed me Dr. Johnson's library, which was contained in two garrets over his chambers, where Lintot, son of the celebrated bookseller of that name, had formerly his warehouse. I found a number of good books, but very dusty, and in great confusion. The floor was strewed with manuscript leaves in Johnson's own handwriting, which I beheld with a degree of vene- ration, supposing they might contain portions of the ' Rambler' or ' Rasselas.' I observed an apparatus for chemical experiments, of which Johnson was all his life very fond. Tlie place seemed very favoiu-able for retirement and meditation. Johnson told me that he went up thither without mentioning it to his ser- vant when he wanted to study secure from interrup- tion, for he would not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he really was. ' A servant's strict regard for truth,' said he, ' must be weakened by such 3~ LETTERS OF BOSWELL. a practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial, but few servants are such nice dis- tinguishers. If I accustom a servant to tell a lie for vie, have I not reason to apprehend that he will tell many lies for himself?'" "Johnson's Staircase" is a well-known place within the precincts of the Temple, and the garrets referred to are now occupied by a laundress.* A certain ambiguous sentence in the ' Life of John- son,' and which has employed some editorial inge- nuity, is perhaps elucidated by the following letter. It is simply a question of who was the person " men- tioned" by Boswell and abused by Johnson, during a conversation recorded by the faithful biographer. The passage runs thus : " Of a gentleman who toas men- tioned Dr. Johnson said, ' I have not met with any man for a long time who has given me such general displeasure. He is totally unfixed in his principles, and wants to puzzle other people.' I said, ' his prin- ciples had been poisoned by a noted infidel writer, but that he was nevertheless a benevolent, good man ; ' whereupon Johnson of com-se dilated all the more to the disadvantage of the ' gentleman,' and said he should not like to trust him with money or ' with young ladies, for then there is always temptation.' " Then the Doctor proceeds from the "gentleman" to Hume * It should perhaps be mentioned, that it is understood to be a fact that a laundress in the Temple is not necessarily a waslier of anything, so that the apartments need not be figured to the sensi- tive reader's mind as now dedicated to Unen and the smell of soap- suds. LETTER-WRITING. 33 and other sceptics, of whom he says, they are "vain men," and that as truth woidd not afford suiRcient food to their vanity, they betook themselves to error. " Truth, Sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they are gone to milk the bull." Mr. Croker inferred in his note that Dempster was the "gentleman" who was thus introduced by his friend Boswell to be criticized, and the following letter cor- roborates the supposition. The supper which preceded, and indeed produced, the conversation in question, took place on the 20 th of July, and an account of it is given at length in the 'Life.' 7,] Bmer Temple, 23rd Jiihj, 1763. My dear Temple, Would it not be absurd if you and I should stand upon ceremony in our correspondence ? I think our best way is just to write to each other whenever we feel an inclination to say something. When we are together we never think of parcelling out our sen- tences in a reciprocal proportion ; at least, I dare say I speak three sentences for one of yours ; why then should I think that written conversation should be managed so very differently? In reality I do not think so ; and my writing this before I have an answer to my last is a proof of my opinion. Indeed I must observe that, to an indolent man, conversation is so much easier than writing that he will gladly seize a large portion of the former, but with reluctance con- D 34 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. tribute bis sbaro of tbo latter ; and bencc it is tbat we see so many awkward and ridiculous excuses of burry and a tbousand otber tbings, wbicb, altbougb tbey have already been beartily laugbed at, can still present tbemselves witb some degree of confidence. On Wednesday evening Mr. Jobnson, Dempster, and my uncle. Dr. Boswell, supped witb me at my cbambcrs. I li^d prodigious satisfaction to find Demp- ster's sopbistry (wbicb be bas learnt from Hume and Rousseau) vanquished by tbe sobd sense and vigorous reasoning of Jobnson. It was a very fertile evening, and my journal is stored witb its fruits. Dempster was as bappy as a vanquished argumentator could be ; and tbe honest Doctor was cheerful and conversible and biglily entertained. Last night Mr. Johnson and I supped together at tbe Turk's Head Coffee-house : he was extremely en- tertaining and instructive. I learn more from biln than from any man I ever was with. He told me a very odd thing, — that be knew at eighteen as much as he does now ; that is to say, his judgment is much stronger, but he had then stored up almost all tbe facts tbat be bas now, and be says tbat be bas led but an idle bfe ; only think. Temple, of that ! He advised me by all means to study, or, as he expressed it, to ply my book while I was young, for that then was the time for acqiui'ing knowledge. He is to correspond with me wherever I am, and be said, " My dear Bos- well, it would give me great pain to part witb you if I thought we were not to meet again." SUPPERS WITH JOHNSON. 35 Master Robert is returned. I have been Avriting a pleasant ditty upon him : — Tune, Nancy Dawson. Bob Temple has at Sanim been. And all the pretty girls has seen j But he came back in the machine, Because he was the barber. From Mother Bowles he got good wine ; He Hck'd liis lips and call'd it fine ; But now the dog at Cliff's must dine. And is not that the barber ? He talks of getting his money and going to Cam- bridge on Tuesday. I wish he may : I shall be better in chambers by myself, and Robert (to use the phrase of the celebrated Mrs. Legge) is too much of a self-lover. He has kept the snug room to himself. I humbled poor 'Gilvie finely with telling him of Gray the apo- thecary.* Morris t called and dehvered your letter : I am to pass an evening at his lodgings soon. Clack supped with me on Tuesday. I have heard again from Scotland, but my time for departure is not yet fixed. Believe me, my dear Temple, to be Most sincerely yours, James Boswell. * Referring to Mr. OgUvie's mistake in fancying that he had met Gray the poet at an inn in Cambridge (see ante, p. 24). f Probably Corbyn Morris, the author of an ' Essay on Wit, Humour, and Ridicule.' d2 36 LETTERS or BOSWELL. 8.] Inner Temple, 2Wi July, 1763. j\Iy dear Friend, Tills comes to you by Bob, ^vllo 1ms cheerfully con- sented to go down to Cambridge. He has been very eager to get back the ring, but the little cunning gipsy still keeps it : she is a deceitful little jade ; she ought to be whipped. Bob has paid the tailor's bill of small articles ; it conies to eleven shillings : this has reduced him again, so I have (or rather, am to) let him have another guinea. Love is to breakfast with me tomorrow. I hope I shall get him to pay me up some more of what he owes me. Pray is a pay up an English phrase ? I know ^ay doivn is. But they may both express the same thing, just as downright and upright both signify honest. I have this night received a large packet from my father, with my letter of credit, and several letters of recommendation to different people in Holland. The letters have been sent open for me to seal, so I have been amused to see the different modes of treat- ing that favourite subject myself. Sir David Dal- rymple has written to Count Nassau : his letter is in French, and is exceedingly genteel. He recommends Mr. Boswell as im jeune homme de famille et de merite, and hopes he will find in the Count le guide et le pro- tecteur de sa jeunesse. My father writes to IMynheer Abrahamus Gronovius, an old Literatus at Leyden : it is an excellent letter, and recalls their old ideas with more liveliness than you would imagine. I have se- veral other letters, so that I can be at no loss where I am VISIT TO HOLLAND. 37 going, especially as I have got some relations of the first fashion at the Hague. My father has allowed me £60 a quarter, — £240 a year : that is not a great allowance, but with economy I may live very well upon it, for Holland is a cheap country. However I am determined not to be straitened, nor to encou- rage the least narrowness of disposition as to saving money, but will draw upon my father for any sums I find necessary. My atFairs being thus far settled, I must set out soon. I can have no excuse for indulg- ing myself in a much longer stay in London ; and yet I must own to you, my dear friend, that I feel a good deal of uneasiness at the thoughts of quitting the place where my aflection is truly centred, for there I enjoy most happiness : however I am determined to go next week. I hope I shall not be feeble-minded, but pluck up manly resolution, and consider that I am leaving London in order to see the world, store my mind with more ideas, establish a proper character, and then re- turn to the Metropolis much happier, and more quali- fied for a solid relish of its advantages. Mr. Wilkes is gone to France. He was so good as to let me have half-a-dozen franks to astonish a few staunch North Britons. I told him I was to be at Utrecht next winter ; he said, " If you will write to me in George Street, I will send you the detail of this country ;" this was very obliging, it would be a vast treasure ; but I don't know if it would be proper to keep a correspondence with a gentleman in his present ca- pacity. It was a great Ikjiioim- to iiic his ofl'ering '6S LETTERS OP BOSWELL. it ; I must be proml : advise uic fully about it, and believe me ever yours, James Boswell. P.S. — I have sat up all night writing letters to Scotch Judges and relations. Bob will certainly be with you on Thursday. 9.] Inner Temple, 2G(/i July, 1763. My dear Sir, The light in which you represent your affairs is a very disagreeable one, and gives me very great concern. The suspected attorney is a sad circumstance ; but it is lucky that you are on your guard, and so may pre- vent him from doing you material hurt without a dis- covery. Your father's indolence, and even inattention, I can see is very great. It is amazing how he should never once have mentioned a subject which you wrote so explicitly and so strongly of; I cannot understand it ; he sm-ely could not mean to shuffle the thing off cunningly, and yet his indolence (if you suppose this to be owing to indolence alone) must be inconceivably great. One would think that his own interest, and the interest of those who are most dear to him, mioht rouse him from this apathy. It is unlucky that Mr. Comp- ton is a man of the same temper, even in a higher de- gree : they will encom'age each other to be easy and keep their minds serene. I wash you w^ould wTite to yoiu" father again, and in the same way that you for- merly did. Represent to him how severe it is upon temple's affairs. 39 you to remain in this uncertain situation, and beseech him to exert himself so as to get matters settled either one way or another. Patterson is such a dog that you should endeavour to prevent him from taking any ad- vantage of your misfortunes, which, upon this as M^ell as other occasions, he seems strongly inclined to do. In short, my dear Temple, I am at a loss how to ad- vise you ; but you may believe that I am most warmly concerned for your welfare, and shall be anxious to hear from time to time how your affairs go on, till they are brought to a happy conclusion ; for I will not offend you with the legal word issue. Pray keep up your spirits, and pray push your father to despatch. Do not despond. Your virtue cannot go unrewarded either in this or another world; but as weak mortals must have sure comfort to support them in this world, reflect, my friend, that you have sure comfort ; you have true friends, — you have Nicholls and Boswell, whom you may look upon as parts of yourself. Con- sider this is an exalted comfort which few enjoy, although they have many of the shining gifts of for- tune. Which, pray, would you in your heart prefer ? Remember me to Nicholls with the remembrance of esteem : I hope to be much better and much longer acquainted with him. As to poor Bob, I am sorry to tell you that the blundering fellow Barry was in a mistake in saying that any money was due to him. Mr. Adie, the agent's head clerk, has shown him his accounts, by which it appears there is not a farthing due. This is a most 40 LETTERS OF IJOSWELL. unlucky cii'cumstancc ; however I think Bob has no- thing now to keep liini longer in London, so I have advised him to go down in the Cambridge Fly on Thursday. I am at present very poor, so cannot do what I could wish ; however I have let him have an- other guinea, which will discharge some trifling debts and carry him down. Mrs. Legge and the barber must wait a little. You will be wanting money by this time ; I will try and get some more of my debt recovered and send it to you. I was with Adie today, and had the account from himself. I ever am yours sincerely, James Boswell. In the following letter of 27th July there is another amusing " analysis" of poor Bob's character, which, as coming from Boswell (who for this purpose plants himself on a moral elevation), has a somewhat comical effect. It is hardly necessary to observe that this letter is not printed on account of its intrinsic wisdom, — a remark which will also apply to many others which succeed. It presents however one of the many in- stances of Boswcll's kindness, which he felt for his friend when sutiering from difficulties and family an- noyances. 10.] Inner Temple, 21 tk July, 1763. My dear Temple, I am really very uneasy on your brother's account ; in the first place, as I am sorry to see a fellow-creature temple's brother. 41 in so much danger ; and in the next place, as his be- haviour cannot fail to be a great cause of unhappiness to you, my worthy friend, whose happiness is most sincerely wished for by me. No recent false step has led me to make this dispiriting exordium ; but as he is going to leave me, I feel a strong desire to write to you about him. I have studied his character tho- roughly ; and by putting myself quite on a footing with him, I have had an opportunity of knowing him perfectly. He has no great powers either of under- standing or imagination, so that he has not been de- signed by natm-e for a man who should make a shi- ning figure. At the same time he has got a good share of sense and spirit, which, as things go, may carry a man very well through life, perhaps better than higher qualities will. It is however somewhat unlucky for him that he has got an exceeding easy and heedless disposition, which has led him into many difficulties, and which prevents him from feeling the consequences of these difficulties so severely as he ought to do. He is good-humoured and void of ma- levolence ; but he has not the generosity one could wish. He is very selfish. I am afraid his principles of virtue are not firmly fixed, though he has a high idea of honour. Have I not analyzed his character pretty well ? I could give you instances of the truth of every article, I imagine you yourself either have been or may be convinced from the same good au- thority. I really have a liking for Bob, and wish very iiiucli to sec liiiii do well. As he has got so al)l(' and 42 LETTERS or 150SWELL. willing a friend ns General Crawfurd, I hope he will rise in the army, if his extravagance does not ruin him. Too quick a rise, while he is so very young, might do him harm ; and therefore his coming in again as lieutenant upon full pay, and remaining some time in that situation, will be best for him. This looks like a paradox, but I imagine it is just. Were he to get a Company just now, he would immediately have a servant and a couple of horses (as he talks), and this would give him such ideas of his consequence that he would enlarge his expenses in every other article, and so would get into debt worse than ever. Therefore, my friend, by no means think of pur- chasing a Company for him, at least till after some years of trial you can depend upon his prudent con- duct. Were you to buy one for liim just now, you would by that means risk a thousand pounds on the uncertain conduct of a giddy youth ; and were he again to be in distress, you would be deprived, in a great measm'e, of the means of relieving him. Leave him to the General, and see what lie will do for him ; and at the same time see how Bob behaves. Com- missions can never be dearer than they are now ; and you will have your money ready to buy a Company for him if you find that he waits long for preferment without money. However, I must observe that sup- posing him to wait seven years, a young man even of very good interest who gets a Company at twenty- four is reckoned very lucky ; but he may have it sooner if he behaves properly. I am glad that he temple's brother. 43 goes down to Cambridge. His going thither removes him from the dissipation and vice which idleness is apt to drive a yonng man to in a metropolis ; and by want of gay amusements, and by seeing good ex- ample, he may acquire a habit of study and reflection that may be of use to him as long as he lives. En- courage him in the notion that he is now laying the foundation of being a happy and well-esteemed officer. I would not have you push him to a formal plan of reading, at least for some time, as he might be dis- gusted at so irksome an idea. Be satisfied at first if books should only serve (as they say with respect to children) to keep him out of mischief; and if he ac- quires even a relish of reading merely for amusement, it is a great deal gained. Above all, do what you can to establish him in solid notions of rehgion and mo- rality. My dear friend, I wish these hints may be of any use ; you know they come from a sincere friend when they come from James Boswell. Boswell is now prepared for his departure for Utrecht and his travels. He has read the letters of introduction with which he is provided, to see how he is described ; he has meditated upon his allowance of £240 a year, and has resolved that, in order not to encoTu-age a "narrow" disposition, he will draw on his father for any sums he finds necessary. He then sheds a tear of regret upon leaving the certain joys of Fleet Street for the problematical pleasures of foreign cities. 44 LETTERS OP BOSWELL. But there is one great gratification in store for the jeiuie homme de famille ct tie merit e ; "Would you beUeve it," says he, " Mr. Johnson's friendship for me is so great that he insists on seeing me sail, and has actually taken a place in the coach to accompany nie to Harwich." Accordingly to Harwich they went, and, as Boswell tells us, " My revered friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond by letters. I said, ' I hope. Sir, you will not forget me in my absence.' Johnson: ' Nay, Sir, it is more likely you should forget me than that I should forget you.' As the vessel put out to sea I kept my eyes upon him for a considerable time, while he remained rolling his majestic frame in his usual manner; and at last I perceived him walk back into the town, and he dis- appeared." We have just seen a description by Bos- Avell of his friend Bob's character ; we may now per- haps glance at the picture of Boswell's by Dr. John- son, in a letter written to him at Utrecht, dated De- cember 8th, 1763, which, both for its own merits and as containing the Doctor's view at this time, and after a very short acquaintance of his correspondent's cha- racter and habits, should perhaps be here presented.* " There lurks perhaps in every human heart a de- sire of distinction, which inclines every man first to hope and then to believe that nature has given him something peculiar to himself. This vanity makes one mind nurse aversion, and another actuate desires, * See ' Life of .Johusou/ rt««o 17 time of this interesting acknowledg- ment ; and assuredly his melancholy did not possess him when, on a convivial occasion with some of his Corsican friends, he amused them and himself in noble song : " I sang ' Hearts of Oak are our ships,' etc, I fancied myself to be a recruiting sea-officer ; I fancied all my chorus of Corsicans aboard the British Fleet."* One more passage from the ' Tour ' must not be omitted : — " One day when I rode out I was mounted on Paoli's own horse, with rich furni- ture of crimson velvet with broad gold lace, and had my guards marching along with me, I allowed myself to indulge in a momentary pride in this parade, as I was curious to experience what would really be the pleasure of state and distinction with which all man- kind are so strangely intoxicated. ... I became a great favourite among the peasants and soldiers. I got a Corsican dress made, in which I walked about with an air of true satisfaction." The dress here re- ferred to was probably the one in which he afterwards occasionally paraded on his return to England. An example of the stilted style of writing adopted by Mr. Boswell at times, may be seen in the Dedica- tion to his ' Account of Corsica.' It may be noticed, that in the Preface to the Work he desires that his orthography should be faithfully preserved in all the future reprints which he believed the world might re- quire. He had especially at heart the final k in words * 'Journal,' p. 321. PASCAL PAOLI. 03 like publick, panegyrich ; accordingly this request has here been piously complied with. The Dedication is as follows : — " DEDICATION TO PASCAL PAOLI, GENERAL OF THE CORSICANS. " Sir, "Dedications are for most part the offerings of interested servility, or the effusions of partial zeal; enumerating the virtues of men in whom no virtues can be found, or predicting greatness to those who afterwards pass their days in unambitious indolence, and die leaving no memorial of their existence but a dedication, in which all their merit is confessedly fu- ture, and which time has turned into a silent reproach. " He who has any experience of mankind will be cautious to whom he dedicates. Publickly to bestow praise on merit of which the publick is not sensible, or to raise flattering expectations which are never ful- filled, must sink the character of an authour, and make him appear a cringing parasite, or a fond enthusiast. " I am under no apprehensions of that nature, when I inscribe this book to Pascal Paoli. Your virtues. Sir, are universally acknowledged ; they dignify the pages which I venture to present to you; and it is my singular felicity that my book is the voucher of its Dedication. " In thus addressing you, my intention is not to at- 01 LETTERS or UOSWELL, tonipt your panegyrick. Tliat may in some measure be collected from my imperfect labours. But I wish to express to the world, the admiration and gratitude uith which you have inspired me. " This, Sir, is all the return that I can make for the many favours you have deigned to confer upon me, I entreat you to receive it as a testimony of my disposi- tion. I regret that I have neither power nor interest to enable me to render any essential service to you and the brave Corsicans. I can only assure you of the most fervent wishes of a private gentleman. I have the honour to be, with all respect and affection, "S cir. " Your ever devoted, " Obliged, humble servant, " AuchinUck, AyrsJdre, " JamES BoSWELL.' " 29 October, 1767." Boswell's acquaintance with Paoli was not only the cause of the book being written, but enabled the en- thusiastic Scotchman to visit and enter into corre- spondence with various great men : — amongst others, he thus honoured Mr. Pitt. Arrayed in the Corsican costume, he forced his way to Mr. Pitt, and we find in the Pitt correspondence the following letter.* Si St. James's Street, Feb. 19, 1766. ir, I have the honour to receive your most obhging * Chatham Correspondence, vol. ii., p. 388. CORRESPONDENCE WITH PITT. C5 letter, and can with difficulty restrain myself from paying you compliments on the very genteel manner in which you are pleased to treat me. But I come from a people* among whom even the lowest arts of insi- nuation are unknown. However you may by political circumstances be in one view a simple individual, yet, Sir, Mr. Pitt will always be the Prime Minister of the brave, the secretary of freedom and of spirit ; and I hope that I may with propriety talk to him of the views of the illustrious Paoli. Be that as it may, I shall very much value the honour of being admitted to your acquaintance. I am, M'ith the highest esteem, Your most obedient servant, James Boswell. Boswell's father was by no means pleased with the result of his son's travelling, nor did he sympathize with his tastes or conduct any more after than before the Utrecht studies and the European tour. Neither Paoli nor Johnson excited his veneration in the slight- est degree. He asserted, according to the well-known anecdote, that "There's nae hope for Jamie, mon; Jamie is gaen clean gyte. What do you think, mon ? He 's done with Paoh, he 's off wi' the land-louping * Boswell should have remembered, before he used this phrase, Dr. Johnson's sneer on then- first introduction. Mr. Pitt is here left in doubt, by the language employed, whether Boswell is describing Corsica or Scotland. F (i() LETTERS OF BOSWELL. sfouiulivl of a Corsicau ; and wliosc tail do you think he lias pinned himself to now, nion ? A dominie, mon, an anld doniinii'; he keepit a schule and cau'd it an acaudemy." The old gentleman however lived to modify this opinion, as will be seen later in the volume. Boswell returned to London in February, 176C, and was able to enjoy the society of his friend Temple again. He records that during his stay there he pre- sented his "old and most intimate friend tbe Rev. Mr. Temple, tlien of Cambridge," to Dr. Johnson. This occurred at the ' Mitre,' and Mr. Temple was in- dulged, as it would seem, with a very fair specimen of the rough way in which poor Boswell and his opinions were occasionally treated by the Doctor. The suc- ceeding year the correspondence with Mr. Temple was resumed. The letters w^hich here follow contain mat- ter which does not put the writer of them in a very becoming attitude ; but the points referred to in them are closely connected with subjects which Boswell much delighted to discuss mth the Doctor and other eminent men, and which occupy considerable space in the ' Life of Johnson.' It is therefore desirable to know what BoswcU's private views and practices really were ; for truthful as for the most part his representations of what was said and meant may be, yet some prejudices and colouring, drawn from his own character, were not unfrequently imparted to his writings.* If any fur- * This has been well shown in respect to Goldsmith by ^Ir. For- ster, in his ' Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith.' THE CLERICAL CHARACTER. 67 ther apology is required for presenting such extraordi- nary letters to the reader, he must be referred to the Introduction to this volume ; and if it is still thought by some that it were better not to have printed these evidences of Boswell's folly, all that can be said in reply is, that although this may be so, it is a matter of opinion which every one must form for himself. 16.] Edinburgh, \st Jehniary, 1767. My dear Temple, When I see lying before me your last letter, dated the 2nd of December, and consider how long a time has passed without any communication between us, I am filled with wonder and regret ; but I think both of us are so far arrived in the knowledge of human nature that we can calmly contemplate the vicissitudes of our own minds, and, without fretting at our imper- fections, can be sorry for them, while we are supported and cheered by the consciousness of our good qua- lities. I am sincerely happy that you are at length the Reverend Mr. Temple. I view the profession of a cler- gyman in an amiable and respectable light. Don't be moved by declamations against ecclesiastical history, as if that could blacken the sacred Order. I confess that it is not in ecclesiastical history that we find the most agreeable account of divines ; their politics, their ambition, and their cruelty arc there displayed ; but remember, Temple, you are there reading the vices ¥ 2 68 LETTERS OF UOSWELL. of only political divines, — of such individuals as in so numerous a body have been very unworthy members of the Church, and should have rather been em- ployed in the rudest secular concerns. But if you would judge fairly of the priests of Jesus, you nuist consider how many of the distressed they have com- forted, how many of the wicked they have reclaimed, how many of the good they have improved ; consider the lives of thousands of worthy, pious divines who have been a blessing to their parishes. This is just, Temple. You say the truths of morality are written in the hearts of all men, and they find it their interest to practise them. My dear friend, will you believe a specious moral essayist against your own experience ? Don't you in the very same letter complain of the wickedness of those around you ? Don't you talk of the tares in society ? My friend, it is your office to labour cheerfully in the vineyard, and, if possible, to leave not a tare in ]\Iamhead.* You are tempted to join Rousseau in preferring the savage state : I am so too, at times. When jaded with business, or when tor- mented with the passions of civilized life, I could fly to the woods, nay I could f on the face of a moun- tain, were it possible for me to be conscious of it and to brave the elements by glorious insensibility. But these are the sallies of desperation. Philosophy teacheth * In Devonshii'e, of which place Mr. Temple was pei-jietual curate. f Here two words become midecipherable in the MS., and what it is that Mr. Boswell felt he could do " on the face of a mountain " must unfortunately be left in entire obscurity. ADVANTAGES OF MATRIMONY. 69 US to be moderate, to be patient, to expect a gradual progress of refinement and felicity ; in that hope I look up to the Lord of the Universe, with a grateful remembrance of the grand and mysterious propitiation which Christianity hath announced. Thus far I got in my letter before breakfast ; it is now late in the evening when I sit down again, but I sit down in the same frame in which I parted from you in the morning. In a word, my dear Temple, be a good clergyman, and you will be happy both here and hereafter. I can well imagine your solitary state at the Rectory when all your neighbours are gone to town, and in such a winter too. I hope you read Thomson, and make the clouds and storms " Exalt the soul to solemn thought And heavenly musing." You may however look forward to the delights of matrimony. Such an institution becomes a pious clergyman : I cannot think of it while my father lives ; his notions and mine are so different, that the wife whom I would choose would in all probability be very disagreeable to him. If he does not marry again, there is a duty upon me to live with him and be care- ful of him. His character is such that he must have his son in a great degree of subjection to him. Were I to marry, he could not alter his ideas, so I should be in a most awkward state between the subjection of a son and the authority of a father, which as a father and as the master I ought to possess. Perhaps it 70 LETTERS OF IlOSWEIiL. would be bettor for a iiinn in my situation to keep himself free. A bachelor has an easy unconcerned be- haviour, which is more taking with the generality of the world than the behaviour of a married man possibly can be, if he acts in character. The bachelor has a carelessness of disposition which pleases everybody, and everybody thinks him a sort of a common good, nunc mihi, nunc aliis henignus, — a feather which flies about and lights now here, now there ; and accordingly the connections of a bachelor are always most exten- sive, whereas a married man has a settled plan, a cer- tain degree of care, and has his affections collected by one great attachment, and therefore he cannot be such good company to everybody he meets; but in my opinion, after a certain time of life a man is not so de- sirous of this general flutter, the mind becomes more composed, and requires some settled satisfaction on which it can repose. I am sensible that everything depends on the light in which we view it, and nothing more so than mar- riage. If you think of that weariness which must at times hang over every kind of society, those disgusts and vexations which will happen in the intercourse of life, you wall be frightened to take upon you the serious charge of the father of a family ; but if you think of the comforts of a home, where you are a sort of sove- reign, the kind endearments of an amiable woman, who has no wish but to make you happy, the amusement of seeing your children grow up from infancy to manhood, and the pkasijig pride of being the father of PROGRESS IN HIS PROFESSION. 71 brave and learned men, all which may be the case, and depends much on our conduct as fathers, then mar- riage is truly the condition in which true felicity is to be found. I think we may strike a good medium. Let us keep in mind the nil admirari, and not expect too much. It was from having too high expectations of enjoyment that I suffered so much, for the natural gloom of my mind was not sufficient to torment me in a degree so acute. In the meantime, my friend, I am happy enough to have a dear infidel, as you say ; but don't think her unfaithful, I could not love her if she was. There is a baseness in all deceit which my soul is virtuous enough to abhor, and therefore I look with horror on adultery. But my amiable mistress is no longer bound to him who was her husband : he lias used her shockingly ill ; he has deserted her, he lives with another. Is she not then free ? She is, it is clear, and no arguments can disguise it. She is now mine, and were she to be unfaithful to me she ought to be pierced with a Corsican poniard ; but I believe she loves me sincerely. She has done every- thing to please me : she is perfectly generous, and would not hear of any present. I am now advancing fast in the law. I am coming into great employment ; I have this winter made sixty- five guineas, which is a considerable sum for a young man. I expect that this year I shall clear above a hundred pieces. 28if/i February. — In this manner I have travelled on through seven folio pages. Everyday T have intended 72 i,KTri:us of boswell. to close my letter, and every night I have felt real pain of mind to think that I had not done it. Your kind favour of the 19th current is just arrived ; it rouses nie, and now I am resolved to give no longer quarter to my indolence. I am at present leading the strangest life. You know one-half of the business before the Court of Session is carried on by writing. In the first in- stance, a case is pleaded before the Lord Ordinary, that is to say, one of the fifteen Judges, who sits in his turn for a week in the Outer House; but no sooner does he give judgment than we give him in representations and answers, and re})lys and duplys and tryplys ; and he vd\] sometimes order memorials, to give him a full view" of the case. Then we reclaim to the Inner House by petition ; and then we give in a variety of printed papers, from Avhich the Lords determine the cause ; for it is only in causes of great consequence that the Court orders a hearing in pre- sence. This method of proceeding is admirable, for it gives the Judges a complete state of every ques- tion; and by binding up the Session papers a man may lay up a treasure of law reasoning and a collection of extraordinary facts. 4tk March. — Here I am still, and let me go on. It must be confessed that our Court of Session is not so favourable to eloquence as the English courts ; yet the Outer House here is a school where a man may train himself to pretty good purpose. I am surprised at myself, I already speak with so much ease and bold- ness, and have already the language of the bar so MORAL DIFFICULTIES. 73 much at command. I have now cleared eighty guineas. My clerk comes to me every morning at six, and I have dictated to him forty folio pages in one day. It is impossible to give you an idea of my present life. I send you one of my law papers, and a copy of my thesis. I am doing nobly; but I have not leisure for learning. I can hardly ever answer the letters of ray friends ; but henceforth. Temple, I will write to you every two weeks : trust me. It is very odd that I can labour so hard at law, when I am so indolent in other things. Let you and I keep up a frequent intercourse, and preserve our friendship in its full force and elegance, and assist each other to dispel every cloud. You are right in preferring social life to retire- ment, for no philosophy is equal to action ; you should not however have quitted your elbow-chairs and fine carpets ; they are amusements, and you must not be without them. You have had a fit of Ioav spirits. In a former part of this letter I have talked a great deal of my sw^eet little mistress ; I am however un- easy about her. Furnishing a house and maintaining her with a maid will cost me a great deal of money, and it is too like marriage, or too much a settled plan of licentiousness ; but what can I do ? I have already taken the house, and tlie lady has agreed to go in at Wliitsuntide ; I cannot in honour draw back. Oh, my friend ! were you but here ; but, alas ! tliat cannot be. Mamhead is not within a call ; it ought 71' Ll'/ITKUS OF nOSWKLL. to be, for you sliould alwnys be my pastor, and I might now and tlien be yours. Friend of my youth, cxphiin to me how wc suffer so severely from what no longer exists. How am I tormented because my charmer has formerly loved others ! Besides, she is ill-bred, quite a rompish girl. She debases my dignity; she has no refinement, but she is very handsome, and very lively. What is it to me that she has formerly loved? so have I. I am positive that since I first courted her at Moffat she has been constant to me ; she is kind, she is generous. What shall I do ? I wish I could get off; and yet how awkward w^ould it be! Think of your Berwick Celia, and sympathize with me. One way or other, my mind will be settled before I can hear from you. This is a curious epistle to a clergyman. Admonish me, but forgive me. Dr. Robertson will soon give the world his ' Charles the Fifth.' Smith, I suppose, is in London ; but I do not hear that his book on jurisprudence is in any for- wardness. David Ilume, you know, is gone back to be a Minister of State, being appointed secretary to Mr, Conway. I fancy he will hardly write any more. I was very hearty with him here this winter. When- ever you go to London, I will give you a letter of introduction to him. His quarrel with Rousseau is a literary tragi-comedy. I wrote verses in the character of each of them ; I also designed a ludicrous print. They have altered my idea, and made a clyster be applied to David ; but you may have the substance of it from one of the London printshops, under the Rousseau's quarrels. 75 title of ' The Savage.' Now you must know Rousseau quarrelled with me too, and wrote me last summer a peevish letter, with strong marks of frenzy in it, for he has never yet told me the cause of his offence. As you will observe, how different is our friendship ! I have got pretty well acquainted with Dr. Gre- gory ; * he was very desirous to know me. His book is ingenious and elegant, and he himself is one of the most amiable, pleasant men alive. The Session will be up this day se'nnight. I shall then set myself down to my account of Corsica, and finish it in the vacation ; I have got more materials for it. I had some time ago a letter of sixteen pages from General Paoli ; and lately a letter of three pages from my Lord Chatham. David Hume told me sin- cerely he imagined my account of Corsica would be a book that will stand, and he is obliging enough to transact the pubhcation of it for me with Andrew Millar. All your old friends here are well, in statu quo, Jeel and all, and remember you kindly. Sin- clair has never found his brother. I don't write often enough to Squire Boswell, but I shall give him a good letter tomorrow ; his beauty, I am afraid, would be too fine for this northern air. Temple, will you allow me to marry a good Scots lass? ha! ha! ha! What shall I tell you? Zclide has been in London this winter. I never hear from her, — she is a strange creature. Sir John Pringle * Dr. Gregory was Professor of Medicine in the University of Edinburg-h. 7(> M'.TTl'.KS or nOSWKI.L. attended her as a physician. He wrote to my father : " She has too much vivacity ; she talks of yoiu* son without either resentment or attachment." Her bro- thers and I correspond ; but I am well rid of her. You say well, that I find mistresses wherever I am ; but I am a sad dupe, — a perfect Don Quixote. To return to where it winces : might I not tell my charmer that really I am an inconstant being, but I cannot help it ? or may I let my love gradually decay ? Had she never loved before, I would have lost every drop of my blood rather than give her up. There's madness ! there's delicacy ! I have not had such a relief as this for I don't know how long. I have broke the tram- mels of business, and am roving unconfined with my Temple. My brother Davy is a prodigious fine fellow. He and I dined together tete-a-tete on Christmas -day in an elegant manner, and went to chapel, as you and I did long ago. He is in constant occupation as a banker, and thinks those weak men whose minds W' aver. He is doing as well as I could wish. He is to settle in London. I hope you will make him your banker. On Christmas-day he and I drank, in great form, " the Reverend Mr. William Temple, rector of Mamhead, Devonshire." What is to be thought of this life, my friend ? Hear the story of my last three days. After tormenting my- self with reflecting on my charmer's former loves, and ruminating on parting with her, I went to her. I could not conceal my being distressed. I told her I A LOVE SCENE AVITH ZELIDE. 77 was very unhappy, but I would not tell her why. She took this very seriously, and was so much affected that she went next morning and gave up her house. I went in the afternoon and secured the house, and then drank tea with her. She was much agitated; she said she was determined to go and board herself in the north of England, and that I used her very ill. I expostulated with her ; I was sometimes resolved to let her go, and sometimes my heart was like to burst within me. I held her dear hand ; her eyes were full of passion ; I took her in my arms ; I told her what made me miserable ; she was pleased to find it was nothing worse. She had imagined that I was suspi- cious of her fidelity, and she thought that very unge- nerous in reconsidering her behaviour. She said I should not mind her faults before I knew her, since her conduct was now most circumspect. We renewed our fondness. She owned she loved me more than she had ever done her husband. All was again well. She said she did not reproach me with my former fol- lies, and we should be on an equal footing. My mind all at once felt a spring ; I embraced her with trans- port. [The letter then proceeds to say that the same evening he supped with some friends, became intoxi- cated, and committed gross follies, which the next day he went and confessed to his charmer in terms which he thinks eloquent.] How like you the eloquence of a young barrister ? It was truly the eloquence of love. She bid me rise, she took me by the hand ; she said she forgave me ; 7S l.r.TTKRS OK BOS WELL. slic kissed 1110; slie; i;cutly iij)braiclcd uic for entertain- ing any nnfavourable idea of her; she bid mc take great care of myself, and in time coming never drink upon any aceoniit. Own to me, Temple, that this was noble ; and all the time her beauty enchanted mc more than ever : may I not then be hers ? In the meantime I must be shut up, and honest Thomas must be my guardian : he does excellently well. Pray what do you hear of Nicholls and Claxton ? Make my compliments to them. There is a pretty book just now published, ' An Essay on the History of Civil So- ciety,' by the Moral Philosophy Professor here. Let mc hear from you soon, and beheve me, Ever yours, James Boswell. The topic of Boswell's escapade with Zelide, and other matrimonial speculations, are pursued in the fol- lowing letter, and after an extremely original fashion. 17.] AucJiinleck, ^Wi March, 1767. My dear Temple, I have this moment received your kind letter of the 20th instant, which has been like an oration of Tully to my soul. I am happy that I can make you a good report ; for as my Circe went to Moffat just after I wrote to you last, and I myself was to go to Auchin- leck, I had time to think coolly, and to call up that reason which I have so often contradicted. CONFESSIONS, 79 Johnston, an old friend of mine, a writer in Edin- burgh, but too much of an indolent philosopher to have great business, being rather a worthy country gentleman, with a paternal estate of £100 a year, was much distressed with my unhappy passion. He was at Moffat when it first began, and he marked the ad- vance of the fever. It was he who assured me, upon his honour, that my fair one had a very bad character, and gave me some instances which made my love-sick heart recoil. He had some influence with me, but my brother David had more. To him I discovered my weakness, my slavery, and begged his advice. He gave it me like a man : I gloried in him. I roused all my spirit, and at last I was myself again. I imme- diately wrote her a letter, of which I enclose the scroll for your perusal. She and I have always corresponded in such a manner that no mischief could come of it ; for we supposed a Miss , to whom all my amo- rous vows were paid. You will observe my method, I wish you may be able to read the scroll. After read- ing the note to Mrs. , read pages 2, 3, and 4, to Miss ■ ; then read what is below the second score in page 1 ; and, lastly, read what is between the scores in page 1. This is leading you an odd dance, but it is better than giving myself the trouble of copying the letter, which I think you ought to see, and which you will please return to me. I have not yet got her an- swer : what will it be, think you ? I shall judge of her character from it. I shall see if she is abandoned or virtuous, — I mean both in a degree; I shall at any 80 i,r,TTKi;s OK r>()s\\ KM,. rate be liini. \\'liat a siiaiv have I escaped ! Do you reiueiiiber IHysses and Circe ? — " Sub iloiiiiiia nKTctricc vixissct tiirpis rt cxcors." ]\Iy life is one of tlie most romantic that I believe either you or I really know of; and yet I am a very sensible, good sort of man. What is the meaning of this, Temple? You may depend upon it that very soon my follies will be at an end, and I shall turn out an admirable member of society. Now that I have given my mind the turn, I am totally emancipated froni my charmer, as much as from the gardener's daughter who now puts on my fire and performs me- nial offices like any other wench ; and yet just this time twelvemonth I was so madly in love as to think of marrying her. Should not this be an everlasting lesson to me? It shall be so, and Mrs. shall second it. By the bye. Temple, I must tell you that I have never owned Mrs. 's real kindness to me except in my letters to you. I am much upon ho- nour in all these affairs ; so if by any strange acci- dent anybody who knows her should inquire of you, laugh it off as a frolic. You unrelenting dog! you have used my charmer cruelly. You say she is the unnatural mother of three children. Ah no ! she loves her children, but a barbarous father keeps them from her. Her affection for her children makes her ami- able to me ; but I confess she ought, for the sake of her children, to conform to the strict ideas of the world. How strangely do we colour our own vices ! I startle when you talk of keeping another man's wife. MISS BOSVILLE. 81 Yet that was literally my scheme, though imagination represented it just as being fond of a pretty, lively, black little lady, who, to oblige me, stayed in Edin- burgh, and I very genteelly paid her expenses. You will see by my letter to her that I shall have a house and a servant-maid upon my hands. How she will settle that I know not. What say you to my marry- ing? I intend, next autumn, to visit Miss Bosville in Yorkshire ; but I fear, my lot being cast in Scotland, that beauty would not be content. She is however grave; I shall see. There is a young lady in the neighbourhood here who has an estate of her own, between two and three hundred a year, just eighteen, a genteel person, an agreeable face, of a good family, sensible, good-tempered, cheerful, pious. You know my grand object is the ancient family of Auchinleck, — a venerable and noble principle. How would it do to conclude an alliance with the neighbouring princess, and add her lands to our dominions? I should at once have a very pretty little estate, a good house, and a sweet place. My father is very fond of her ; it would make him perfectly happy : he gives me hints in this way : — " I wish you had her, — no bad scheme this ; I think, a very good one." But I will not be in a hurry ; there is plenty of time. I will take to my- self the advice I wrote to you from Naples, and go to London awhile before I marry. I am not yet quite well, but am in as good a way as can be expected. My fair neighbour was a ward of my father's ; she sits in our seat at church in Edinburgh ; she would take G 82 LETTERS OF JIOSWELL. possession here most naturally. This is a superb place ; we liave the noblest natural beauties, and my father has niadi' most extensive improvements. AVe look ten miles out upon our own dominions : we have an excel- lent new house. I am now writing in a library forty feet long. Come to us, my dearest friend ; we will live like the most privileged spirits of antiquity. I am now seriously engaged in my account of Cor- sica ; it elevates my soul, and makes me spernere hu- mum : I shall have it finished by June. My brother David is quite to my mind. I enclose you a letter from him ; you will see the young man as he is in it. He has a portion of that sensibility which renders you and me unhappy every moment, till time and expe- rience taught us common sense and moderate desires. I am ever, my dearest friend. Most affectionately yours, James Boswell. P.S. — What varios casus have you known your friend in first and last, real and imaginary ! only re- collect. How do you get your letters when my Lord Lisburne is at London ? Must this go to his Lord- ship's town-house? Return me David's letter, with the scroll, to Mrs. . Li the interval between the date of the last letter and that of 12th June, Boswell addressed a letter to the Earl of Chatham, which ought not to be omitted, as it exhibits the self-complacency of the writer in a LETTER TO LORD CHATflAM. 83 curious mauner. The modesty with which he asks the Earl of Chatham to write to him "now and then," that he may dehght in being a correspondent of a great man, is truly astounding : Boswell however was gratified to some extent, for tlie next letter to Temple mentions a letter of three pages from Lord Chatham. 18.] ' AucMnlecJc, April Uh, \1 Oil . I have communicated to General Paoli the contents of your Lordship's letter, and I am persuaded he will think as I do. . . . Your Lordship applauds my " gene- rous warmth for so striking a character as the able chief." Indeed, my Lord, I have the happiness of being capable to contemplate, with supreme delight, those distinguished spirits by which God is some- times pleased to honour humanity ; and, as I have no personal favour to ask of your Lordship, I will tell you, with the confidence of one who does not fear to be thought a flatterer, that your character, my Lord, has filled many of my best hours with that noble ad- miration which a disinterested soul can enjoy in the bower of philosophy. [He then informs his correspon- dent that he is about to publish an account of Cor- sica, and how he will write it, and then proceeds : — ] As for myself, to please a worthy and respected father, one of our Scots Judges, I studied law, and am now fairly entered to the bar. I begin to like it ; I can labour hard; I feel myself coming forward; and I hope to be useful to my country. Could your Lord- G 2 84 LETTERS OE 1K)S\VELL. tiJilp fun/ f'niic io hotwur vw now and then with a Idler? I have been told liow favourably your Lordship has spoken of me. To eorrespond with a Paoli and with a Chatham is enough to keep a young man ever ardent * in the j)ursuit of virtuous fame. I am, etc., James Boswell. Alas ! the following letter to Temple discloses that the pursuit of "virtuous fame" w^as not altogether preserved ardent in the writer's mind by the means of the exalted correspondence or otherwise. 19.] Ed'mhurgh, \Wi June, 1767. My dear Temple, I have this moment received your letter of yester- day. All your letters have come safe. I may at times be a man of flight, but I am equalled if not ex- ceeded by my friend. Now, at Mamhead, all passion for a pretty maid, yet profound, daring, and philoso- phical ; then to London, and desiring me not to write till I should hear from you ; and now, to my astonish- ment, at Berwick-upon-Tweed. Never, sui'ely, w^ere two men of minds more similar. I am not surprised with what you tell me of your present views. Per- haps the plan you are now thinking of may be the surest for your happiness. The lady undoubtedly has merit : she has a genteel fortune, and her constancy shows that she has a real regard for you : but of this we shall talk at great length. The lady in my neigh- MATRIMONIAL SPECULATIONS. 85 boiirhood is the finest woman I have ever seen. I went and visited her, and she was so good as to pre- vail with her mother to come to Auchinleck, where they stayed four days, and in our romantic groves I adored her Hke a divinity. I have already given you her character. My father is very desirous I should marry her, — all my relations, all my neighbours, ap- prove of it. She looked quite at home in the house of Auchinleck. Her picture would be an ornament to the gallery. Her children would be all Boswells and Temples, and as fine women as these are excellent men. And now, my friend, my best adviser comes to hear me talk of her and to fix my wavering mind. I must tell you my Italian angel is constant ; I had a letter from her but a few days ago, which made me cry. Come to me, my Temple ; and on that Arthur Seat, where om* youthful fancies roved abroad into ex- travagant, imaginary futurity, shall we now consult to- gether on plans of real life and solid happiness. We can now hear from each other every two days. How glad I am at this unexpected meeting ! what a variety have we to talk about ! I was at any rate to have in- sisted on your coming down to see my princess. Per- haps it would be well for me to be as much engaged as you are ; it would fix my mind at once in women, as the law has in employment. Ever yours, J. B. The " Douglas Cause," mentioned in the following 86 LKTTKKS or HOSWKI.L. letter, is often alluded to by Jioswell as one in which he was interested, and in which he also interfered with his pen, by writing his ' Essence of the Douglas Cause.' It possessed that cliaracter which naturally would at- tract his officious attention ; for it was the subject of everybody's conversation ; and it gratified Boswell's feeling of self-importance to be (or to be supposed to be) mixed up in a matter which was producing an ex- citement almost, if not altogether, unparalleled in the liistory of British litigation. Perhaps this excitement w^as all the greater on account of the grossness of the scandals the trial revealed, and the indecency divulged in its detail. The question in dispute was as to the heirship of Mr. Archibald Douglas. If he were really the son of Lady Jane Douglas, he would inherit large family estates ; but if he vrere supposititious, then they would descend to the Duke of Hamilton. On behalf of the latter it was attempted to be established that Mr. Douglas and his twin brother (who had died young) had been bought of a glass manufacturer and a rope- dancer in France ; and great stress was laid upon the improbability that a female, who had been long mar- ried to her first husband without issue, should, in her forty-ninth year, when married a second time to an aged and infirm old gentleman, give birth to twins. The trial had commenced in Scotland, where the excitement was excessive ; indeed party spirit ran so high that the peace of Edinburgh was for two days broken thereby, the Hamilton party being on one oc- THE DOUGLAS CAUSE. 87 casioii driven forth from the city, and their family apartments in Holyrood House broken into and plun- dered. The Judges of the Court of Session, when the Cause was before them, had been divided in opinion, eight against seven, the Lord-President Dundas giving the casting vote in favour of the Dnke of Hamilton ; and, in consequence of it, he and several other of the Judges had, on the reversal by the Lords, their houses attacked by a mob. It is said, but not upon conclu- sive authority, that Boswell himself headed the mob, which broke his own father's windows. On the appeal to the House of Lords there was most injudicial feeling exhibited. The lay Lords de- termined to take part in the decision of the appeal, and there was much canvassing, and doubt as to the result. When the debate came on, the Duke of New- castle opened it on behalf of one side, and Lord Sand- wich, taking the opposite view of the question, an- swered him. According to Horace Walpole* the lat- ter nobleman spoke at great length "with much humour, and scandalized the bishops, having with his usual industry studied even the midwifery of the case, which he retailed with very little decency." Lord Camden, then Chancellor, took occasion to affirm that in his opinion the Appeal before the house was " per- haps the most solemn and important ever heard at the bar ;" his Lordship however not only thought it very important, but he thought it very clear, alleging 'hat " a more ample and positive proof of the child's * 'Memoir of George III.,' vol. iii. p. 303. 88 I.KTTKHS OK HOSWKM,. being the son of a motlier never appeared in a conrt of justice." The proceedings in tlie Cause, with the evidence, may be studied in five large quarto volumes ; but the chief interest in the case probably remains nowadays with those who inherit the disputed property, and in a less degree perhaps with those who might have done so if the House of Lords had given an opposite judge- ment. Lord Campbell gives his opinion however thus on the matter. He says : " I believe, the general opinion of English lawyers was in favour of the decision of the Court of Session in Scotland ; but this was pro- duced a good deal by Lord Mansfield's wretched ar- guments [as to the impossibility of an illustrious lady committing such a fraud], and the very able let- ters of Andrew Stuart, the Duke of Hamilton's agent, whose conduct had been severely reflected upon. I once studied the case very attentively, and I must own that I came to the conclusion that the House did well in reversing."* Walpole's judgement, on the other hand, is hostile to the Douglas Claim -. he says, — " At ten o'clock at night the decree was reversed without a division; a sentence, I think, conformable to equity, as the child was owned by both parents, and the imposture not absolutely proved ; yet, in my opinion, not awarded in favour of truth,! a declaration I should not be so arro- * Lord Campbell's 'Lives of the Chancellors,' vol. v. p. 290. t This is no compliment paid to equity. THE DOUGLAS CAUSE. 89 gant as to make, if many able men were not as much persuaded as I am of the child being supposititious."* It should be observed that although the lay Peers took part in the debate, and entered into the legal question, they did not divide the House eventually ; nevertheless five of them, headed by the Duke of Bedford, thought it not improper to sign a protest against the decision. For whichever side the judgement of the Court ought legally to have been, it is quite clear that the case, in its various stages, presents the spectacle of persons of high birth and great wealth mixed up with most disreputable transactions in pursuit of property. On both sides fraud and perjury were unscrupulously called in aid of the respective claims of the noble houses. The services of skilful scoundrels were pur- chased ; and indeed no means which could be devised by the agents employed to prepare and destroy evi- dence, according as it suited their clients' purposes, were rejected. The Douglas cause seems to afford an example of all the worst characteristics of litigation : it exhibits prejudice iii judges,! venahty in lawyers, unscrupu- lousness among the suitors and their creatures, and * Chap. X. vol. ii. f The speeches of Lord Camden and Lord Mansfield (miserably reported) are to be found in the 'Collectanea Juridica' (vol. ii. p. 387), and in Pari. Hist., vol. xvi. Andrew Stuart's * Letters to Lord Mansfield ' show too the bitter character of the dispute, and the ex- treme length to which it was canied. The reader may also con- sult the 'Annual Reporter' for 1769 for a brief account of flic matter. DO LETTERS OF 1?()S\VKI,L. imcortainty in tho administration of the law itself. These eircunistances however, as has been already ob- served, rendered Boswell's interest in the matter all the livelier. Tlie cause is soraetiniies cited in the medico-legal books as an authority with regard to the value of evidence relating to family likeness,* when adduced to prove descent, as \Aell as containing a great deal of curious information upon the probable limits of the parents' ages within which an heir or heiress may in- terpose between an estate and its expectant inheritor to disappoint him. In addition to the judicial debates, the Parliamen- tary struggle, the bitter conflicts of pamphleteers, and the violence of the mobs, the services of fiction were called into request ; and * Dorando,' a Spanish tale, probably written by Boswell, was published, which purported to embody the story involved in the suit. Although Boswell sometimes seems to represent himself as counsel in the cause, he was not properly retained ; thus we find, in a letter to Dr. Johnson (Feb. 26, 1778), Boswell says, "I purpose being in London about the 28th of next month, as I think it creditable to appear in the House as one of Douglas's * The endence in the Douglas cause on this head was very con- flicting, some witnesses declaring Archibald Douglas to be the very image of his supposed father, while others swore he exactly resem- bled a French peasant. It was anyhow less clear than another re- ported case, where the Quarter Sessions affiliated a child who had six fingers to his hand upon an unfortunate man because he had a like number upon one of his hands. THE DOUGLAS CAUSE. 91 counsel in the great last competition between Dnke Hamilton and him." This would indicate that he appeared, at all events at this stage of the litigation, as counsel, but was in truth only a friend and amateur, and not a duly ap- pointed advocate. In the following letter he states directly that he was not counsel in the cause. Whatever was the part Boswell really played in the suit, it is clear he was delighted with the importance it gave him, even when it produced the exhibition of contempt and animosity from the party whose cause he had not espoused. He gives an instance of this in recounting the meeting with the Duchess of Hamilton. The scene is one of those which probably Mr. Mac- aulay had in his mind when he says that the bare re- collection of having made themselves so ridiculous and contemptible as Boswell certainly here did, would be enough to induce most men to hang themselves from shame and vexation. " I was in fine spirits," says Boswell, " and though sensible that I had the misfor- tune of not being in favour with the Duchess, I was not the least disconcerted, and offered her Grace some of the dish before me. It must be owned that I was in the right to be quite unconcerned, if I could. I was the Duke of Argyle's guest; and I had no reason to suppose that he had adopted the prejudices and re- sentments of the Duchess of Hamilton. " I knew it w^as the rule of modern high life not to drink to anybody ; but, that I might have the satis- faction for once to look the Duchess in the face, with 1)0 LKITKUS or IU)S\VKI,L. a glass in my liniul, T witli a respectful air addressed her, ' My Lady Duchess, I have the honour to drink to your Grace's good health.' I repeated the words autHl)ly, and willi a steady countenance. This was perliaps rather too much ; but some allowance must be made for human feelings. ... I made some re- mark that seemed to imply a belief in second sight. The Duchess said, ' I fancy you will be a Methodist! This was the only sentence her Grace deigned to utter to me ; and I took it for granted she thought it a good hit on my credidity in the Douglas cause. . . . We went to tea. The Duke and I Avalked up and down the drawing-room conversing. The Duchess still con- tinued to show the same marked coldness for me, for which, though I suffered from it, I made every allow- ance, considering the very warm part that I had taken for Douglas in the cause in which she thought her son deeply interested. Had not her Grace discovered some displeasure towards me, I should have suspected her of insensibility or dissimulation. " Her Grace made Dr. Johnson come and sit by her, and asked him Avhy he made his journey so late in the year. ' Why, Madam,' said he, ' you know Mr. Boswell must attend the Court of Session, and it does not rise till the twelfth of August.' She said, with some sharpness, ' I know nothing of Mr. Boswell.' Poor Lady Lucy Douglas, to whom I mentioned this, ob- served, ' She knew too much, of Mr. Boswell.' I shall make no remark on her Grace's speech. I indeed felt it as rather too severe ; but when I recollected THE DOUGLAS CAUSE. 93 that my punishment was inflicted by so dignified a beauty, I had that kind of consolation which a man would feel who is strangled by a silken coixl."^^ On the whole, we may perhaps conclude that Boswell de- rived far more pleasure than dissatisfaction from min- gling in this mighty Douglas fray. 20.] Edinburgh, 22nd July, 1767. My dearest Temple, Your impatience is not greater than mine. Every hour since I heard you was at Berwick I have been for taking wing to meet you. I only regret that this is Session time (Term time) with me, which of neces- sity enslaves me more or less. This Douglas cause is still put off by some new delay. The Lords are to examine tomorrow Isabel Walker, who is one of Lady Jane Douglas's maids, and is the only person now alive who has been accused as an accomplice in the alleged crime of partus suppositio ; her examina- tion will be solemn and important. Though I am not a counsel in that cause, yet I am much interested in it. I doubt if it will be determined this week, but I am persuaded it will not be put off longer than next week. The week after next my father is Judge in the Outer House, and I shall have such a load of business, that we could be together very little ; I would therefore have you to come and stay next week, when I hope to * ' Life of Johnson ;' date, October, 1773. '.) l- LETTI-.HS OF 1U)S\VKI,1,. \)v, ill 11 great iiu'usuic, disengaged, and any hours tliat business absolutely demands shall be compensated by reading journals and letters, which you will delight to peruse ; you will also have my account of Corsica. How happy am I that my Temple comes to give it his friendly rcvisal ! My Lord Hailes has given me seven folio pages of remarks upon it : he says, " I am much entertained and instructed." Is not this noble ? You may have very good lodging in the same stair wdth us : when I get your answer, fixing a particular day, I shall secure them for you. We shall live entirely in the luxuiy of philosophy and friendship. We shall have the society of Doctor Blair, Doctor Gregory, Doctor Ferguson, and our other literati, but we shall keep the best portion of our time sacred to our inti- mate affection. My dear friend, is it not a distin- guished felicity to participate of the highest friendship as much as the greatest and best of other ages have done ? This is literally the case with you and me : we are divine madmen to the dull and interested many. Will you come on Satm'day or on ]\londay ? Why, oh why, is it Session time ? Temple, you must be at Auchinleck ; you must see my charming bride. If you cannot return in autumn, pray resolve to take a ride now, and, on pretence of viewing the seat of your friend, view also the woman who has his heart. Come ; you have the fire of the Spaniard, I know you have : oh, think of this ! Ever most sincerely yours, Ja^ies Bos well. PROFESSIONAL SUCCESS. 95 P.S. — My Circean charmer will probably be here by the time you come : you must see her. I have a great deal to tell you. My Signora is indeed a wonderful creature ; you shall know all. But again let me en- treat of you to take one romantic ride, to oblige, most essentially, your most cordial friend. Sir Alexander Dick — a Corycius senex, quite a classical man, and much of an Italian in pleasantness of disposition- — has a fine seat just a mile from town ; he is very desirous to see Mr. Temple; we shall be quite at home there. Well, I never was happier. Adieu, till we meet. 21.] Edinburgh, Friday, "lUli June, 1767. My dearest Friend, The first thing I must do is to defend myself against a charge of affected importance. Yes, indeed, I do say neither Mr. Yorke nor Mr. Norton can be busier than I shall be the week that my father sits as Judge in the Outer House ; for you must know that the ab- surdity of mankind makes nineteen out of twenty em- ploy the son of the Judge before whom their cause is heard ;* and you must take it along with you that I am as yet but a very raw counsellor, so that a mode- rate share of business is really a load to me. So, my * That this is not the experience of those who have had oppor- tunities of watching the distribution of business at the English Bar may safely be affirmed. Boswell however had probably mme grounds for his assertion. '.'(*> LliTTKUS oi' I'.osu 1,1,1,. dear Ti'mplc. you aiv wrong. Never suspect tluit I eau 1)1' a l)it better to you than I am. You know nie too Will, and 1 am perfectly satisfied with the gcnuuie esteem wdiicli you have for me. 1 may perhaps now and then assume some airs, but it is strange that it should be so ; but undoubtedly we are very well pleased that those who cannot admire us for what we truly possess, should admire us for what we do not. Thus far my defence; and now, my ever dear friend, let me enjoy the agreeable prospect of our meeting. I have secured lodgings for you when you arrive ; you are to choose whether you will have one large room, with a large alcove bed-place, or two rooms. As you are to stay immediately above us, Thomas will always be ready to attend upon you, as I suppose you will not bring a servant w^th you. I would not cloud my present frame of mind with any gloomy reflection that concerns either you or my- self; it is better to communicate them when we meet, when our mutual sympathy and friendly w'armth may temper and relieve them. [The letter then proceeds, and with very unnecessary particularity, w4th a nar- ration of his getting "quite intoxicated on Tuesday last drinking Miss Blair's health (for that is the name of my angelic princess)," and the detail of follies which he committed while in this condition. However he adds, — " But I am abashed, and determined to keep the strictest watch over my passions." He then closes his epistle as follows : — ] You must resolve to visit my goddess. You are a MENTAL CONSTITUTION. 97 stranger, and may do a romantic thing. You shall have consultation guineas, as an ambassador has his appointments. You see how I use you. In short, be- tween us two, all rules and all maxims are suspended. Pray prepare yourself for this adventure ; we shall settle it, I hope ; I cannot go with you though. You are to see our country for a jaunt, upon my recommendation, etc. Dearest friend. Ever yours, James Boswell. This is Friday. If you write me a line tomorrow, I shall have it on Monday by dinner-time. The itinerary provided here by BosweU for his friend, and the programme of the conversations he was to support with Miss Blair, must have been somewhat formidable, especially as he is enjoined " to be a man of as much ease as possible," and to " take notes ; perhaps you now fix me for life." One of the topics suggested for Mr. Temple's dis- cussion leaves it uncertain whether Boswell was willing to excuse his irregularities on the score of a predis- position to insanity, or whether he was perhaps really suspicious of possessing a peculiar mental constitution analogous to disease of the brain. Instructions for Mr. Temple, 07i //is Tour to Aucliinlcck and Adamtown. lie will set out in the fly on Monday morning, and H 98 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. reach Glasgow by noon. Put up at Graham's, and ask for the horses bespoke by Mr. Bosvvell. Take tickets for the Friday's fly. Eat some cold victuals. Set out for Kingswell, to which you have good road ; arrived there, get a guide to put you through the muir to Loudoun; from thence Thomas knows the road to Auchinleck, where the worthy overseer, Mr. James Bruce, will receive you. Be easy with him, and you will like him much ; expect but moderate enter- tainment, as the family is not at home. Tuesday. — See the house ; look at the front ; choose your room ; advise as to pavilions. Have James Bruce to conduct you to the cab-house ; to the old castle ; to where I am to make the superb grotto ; up the river to Broomsholm ; the natural bridge ; the grotto ; the grotto-walk down to the Gothic bridge : anything else he pleases. Wednesday. — Breakfast at eight ; set out at nine ; Thomas will bring you to Adamtown a little after eleven. Send up your name ; if possible, put up your horses there, they can have cut grass ; if not, Thomas will take them to Mountain, a place a mile off, and come back and wait at dinner. Give Miss Blair my letter. Salute her and her mother; ask to walk. See the place fully ; think what improvements should be made. Talk of my mare, the purse, the chocolate. Tell, you are my very old and intimate friend. Praise me for my good qualities, — you hiow them ; hut talk also hoio odd, how inconstant, hoio impetuous, how much accustomed to women of intrigue. Ask gravely, Fray TEMPLE AS AMBASSADOR. 99 dont you imagine there is something of madness in that family ? Talk of my various travels, — German princes^ — Voltaire and Bousseau. Talk of my father ; ray strong desire to have my own house. Observe her well. See, how amiable ! Judge if she would be happy with your friend. Think of me as the great man at Adamtown, — quite classical too ! Study the mother. Remember well what passes. Stay tea. At six, order horses and go to New Mills, two miles from Loudoun ; but if they press you to stay all night, do it. Be a man of as much ease as possible. Con- sider what a romantic expedition you are on ; take notes ; perhaps you now fix me for life. Thursday. — Retm'u to Glasgow from New Mills or from Adamtown. See High Church, New Church Col- lege, and particularly the paintings, and put half-a- crown into the box at the door. My friend, Mr. Ro- bert Fowles, will show you all. Friday. — Come back in the fly. Bring your port- manteau here. We shall settle where you are to lodge. N.B. — You are to keep an exact account of your charges. 22.] Edinburgh, 29th July, 1767. My dear Temple, I have more reason to make an apology than you had, for I have been longer negligent. Let us guard against this vice, and not subject ourselves to continual returns of remorse to a certain degree ; for every in- u 2 100 LETTKRS OK HOSWELL. stance of our doing tliosc things which we onglit not to have done, and leaving undone those things which we ought to have done, is attended with more or less of what is truly remorse. [This doctrine, which has the merit of truth if not of novelty, Boswell proceeds to illustrate by the state of his own health, which was suffering from the effects of dissipation. The reflec- tion however which follows the confession of his folly is too extraordinary to be omitted.] AVill you forgive me, Temple, (says he) for exclaimmg, that all this evil is too much for the offence of my getting drunk, be- cause I would drink Miss Blair's health in a large bumper ? But general laws often seem hard in parti- cular cases. [The letter then proceeds with matter concerning his ove for Miss Blair.] I have not heard from Adamtown since you left me. I wrote to Miss Blair above a week ago, and thanked her for the polite reception she gave my friend. I told her how much you was charmed with ber, and that I should not probably get a letter from you without some fine thing said of her. I made your compliments to her and Mrs. Blair. What can be the matter? Probably the letter you carried has been thought so strange, and so distant from any rational scheme, that it has been resolved no longer to carry on so friendly and easy an intercourse with me. Or what would you say if the formal Nabob whom you saw there has struck in, and so good a bird in hand has made the heiress quit the uncertain MARRIAGE OF TEMPLE. 101 prospect of catching the bird in the bush ? I am curious to see how this matter will turn out. The mare, the purse, the chocolate, where are they now ? I am certainly not deeply in love, for I am entertained with this dilemma like another chapter in my adven- tures, though I do own to you that I have a more serious attachment to her than I ever had to any- body ; for here every flower is united. Perhaps the dilemma will be agreeably solved, so let me not allow my mind to waver. At any rate you have a tolerable hold upon me. Smith is here just now ; his ' Juris- prudence' will be out in a year and a half. Hoping to hear of a very happy event being at length certain, I am ever. Most affectionately yours, James Boswell. 23.] Edinburgh, WtJi August, 1767. My dear Temple, I sincerely congratulate you on your marriage, which, from your manner of writing, I take to be a very good, comfortable situation. You have removed half my apprehensions, and I suppose I shall likewise by-and-by experience the agreeable union. But what can you say in defence of this heiress ? Not a word from her since you were there. You carried her one letter from me, and I wrote her another a week after, neither of which have been answered. You must know that my present unhappy distemper, joined with a cold, 102 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. brought on a most terrible fever, and I was for several days in a most alarming situation ; I am not yet up, though I am in a fair way of recovery from every evil. Well, but to retiu"n. I wrote Miss Blair on Wednes- day the 5 th, that I was afraid Mr. Temple had told her my faults too honestly, so that she was mistaken in having too good an opinion of me ; that however she had punished me (only think of that, Temple !) too much ; that I felt it the more, because I had been for some days confined to my bed by a feverish dis- order, and had been dreaming a greal deal of her. Now, my dear friend, suppose what you please ; suppose her affections changed, as those of women too often are ; suppose her offended at my Spanish stateliness ; suppose her to have resolved to be more reserved and coy in order to make me more in love ; nay, suppose her betrothed to that man of copper, the formal Nabob, — still, politeness obliged her to give me some answer or other ; yet it is now four posts since that answer might have come. Is it not strange, after such frankness and affability? What shall I think? As I am quite in the dark, I will take no resolution against her till you advise me, for I still cannot help thinking she is the best woman to be my wife I have ever seen. Perhaps her mysterious conduct may be quite cleared up. A letter from ray Signora at Siena, written with all the warmth of Italian affection ! I am a strange man, but ever your most sincere friend, James Bo swell. COPYRIGHT OF HIS BOOK. 103 P. S. — David Johnston and all here wish you joy; so does Sir Alexander Dick and Doctor Boswell. The honest Doctor thinks you a good, quiet philosopher, a kind of Parson Adams. Inimitable ! Wyvill was so good as to call when I was so very ill. I shall send to him, and have him to chat awhile. I am to be a week or two here, quiet and studious. Mr. Dilly, bookseller in the Poultry, has purchased my ' Account of Corsica.' I receive one hundred guineas three months after publication. I shall be close employed all this autumn in revising and correcting the proof- sheets. Let me hear from you soon. 104 CHAPTER V. 1707-1768. COURTING MISS BLAIR. — ' DORANDO.' — MATRIMONY. — MODE OP PRESERVING A REASONABLE ATTACHMENT TO MISS BLAIR. DISAGREEMENT BETWEEN FATHER AND SON AS TO BOS- WELL's MERITS. — THE ' CORSICAN JOURNAL.' — LORD BALTI- MORE'S TOUR. lovers' QUARRELS. BOSWELL's COSTUME FOR COURTING. — MISS BLAIR REPUDIATED. — ZELIDE AND MISS BOSVILLE RECONSIDERED. MISS BLAIR REPLACED. DIA- LOGUE BETWEEN THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS. ITS RESULT. The following Chapter contains a most absnrd confes- sion by Boswell as to his courtship of Miss Blair, and shows how his egotism and total want of balance in character affected his conduct in this affair. It is in- deed an extraordinary phenomenon which he here ex- liibits : we see a rational man, apparently conscious of the motives which are actuating him, which he also discusses in these letters with considerable minute- ness and truthfulness, but of their moral value he seems entirely ignorant. He also dwells much on his own " singular humour," which perhaps, if he were not so evidently aware of it, miirht afford some extenuation of his behaviour. He is COURTING MISS BLAIR. 105 moreover willing to offer as an explanation for bis irre- gularities " the madness in his composition," which he either may or may not have believed in. The time which he now fixes for controlling himself and be- coming a c^ignified man, viz. when his ' Corsican Jour- nal ' should be published, was unfortunately extended from time to time for an indefinite period. 34.] Edinhurgh, 2Uh August, 1767. My dear Temple, Marriage is like to lose me a friend ; for I have not had a line from you for near a fortnight, although my last letter was full of anxiety with regard to my ami- able Miss B . What can have occasioned so lonsr a silence ? I conclude, because you are not able to make an apology for the conduct of a lady for whom you are a kind of surety ; I will therefore relieve you from this dilemma, by informing you that she has made an apology herself. On Monday se'nnight I had the pleasure to receive a most agreeable letter from her, in which she told me that my letter to her had lain eight days at the post-house at Ayr, which was the occasion of her seeming neglect. You see, my friend, how appearances are often very deceitful. This never occurred either to you or me. I have refrained from communicating this to you from a curiosity to see how you would endeavour to excuse her conduct ; but, since I have waited so long in vain, I now make you as easy as myself. 1 would send you the letter, but it says so 100 LKTirUS OV noSUKM-. nianv fino tilings of you, tlmt I will not give yon so iiuich pleasuiv till I hear from you again. Wvvill was so cjood as to come and sit a whole af- ternoon with me : he is an admirable critic on my account of Corsica. lie is gone on a jaunt to Glas- gow, etc., with his father and sister; he sends you his best compliments. I hope to have him with me again in a day or two. I ever am, my dear Temple, Your most faithful friend, James Boswell. 23.] EdbihvrgJi, 28//* Jngmt, 17^7. My dear Friend, It seems yon and I, like the magnetic needles of the two friends, have both turned towards each other at the same time. You would receive, the day before yesterday, a letter from me complaining of your long silence, and I have, by the same post, received a very kind one from you. Are you not happy to find that all is well between the Prince of Auchinleck and his fair neighbouring Princess ? In short. Sir, I am one of the most fortu- nate men in the world. As Miss Blair is my great object at present, and you are a principal minister in forwarding the alliance, I enclose you the latest papers on the subject. You will find the letter I wrote her when ill, where you will see a Scots word roving, from the French rever, as if to dream awake. I put it down MATRIMONIAL NEGOTIATIONS. 107 as a good English word, not having looked in Johnson. You will next find the lady's answer ; then a long let- ter from rae, which required an extraordinary degree of good sense and temper to answer it with an agree- able propriety ; then her answer, which exceeds my highest expectations. Read these papers in their order, and let me have your Excellency's opinion. Am I not now as well as I can be ? What condescension ! what a desire to please ! She studies my disposition, and resolves to be cautious, etc. Adorable woman ! Don't you think I had better not write again till I see her ? I shall go west in a fortnight ; but I can hardly re- strain myself from writing to her in transport. I will go to Adamtown, and stay a week. I will have no dis- guise ; we shall see each other fairly ; we are both in- dependent; we have no temptation to marry but to make each other happy. Let us be sure if that would be the consequence. Was it not very good in my worthy father to visit my mistress in my absence ? I have thanked him for it, and begged he may send his chaise for Mrs. Blair and her to come and stay some days with him. I am recovering well, and my spirits are admirable. I shall send you two ' Dorandos ' by the carrier ; he does not go till Thursday. Honest John- ston, who sits by me, sends you his most sincere con- gratulations. Pray make my best compliments to Mrs. Temple. I ever am, dear Temple, Your most affectionate friend, James Boswell. lOS LETTERS or HOSWKLL. ' Dorando' was tlic romance founded on tlic Douglas cause, tlie scene lieing laid in S})ain. If BoswcU was the author of it, he did not affix his name to the title- page. 1 have not been able to obtain a copy of it; th(> Avoik was however reviewed in the columns of the ' Gentleman's Magazine' upon its publication. 26.] FAlnhnrgh, ^'dlh Anyusl, 1767. » Dear Temple, My letter yesterday was so full of the Princess, that I had not room for anything else. I cannot however delay expressing the great satisfaction I feel at your prospect of happiness in a married state. By what you say of Mrs. Temple, I have no doubt of your living agreeably, as I am persuaded you will make an excellent husband. I like your way of representing marriage, plainly and simply; for w^e have a strange custom of look- ing upon it as something quite mysterious, and have therefore twice as many apprehensions as we need have ; for I do say we must have some apprehensions when engaging to have a fidelity and common in- terest for life. Not only will you be happy, but you will make your friend so too, by showing him the way to calm and permanent felicity, as far as this life will allow. The packet I sent you yesterday W'ould fumish you with an excellent subject for a homily, as worthy Sir Alexander said. My old and intimate friend, can I REASONABLE ATTACHMENT. 109 be better? Can you suppose any woman in Britain with whom more circumstances could unite to engase me? All my objections arise from my own faults. Tell me, can I honestly ask so fine a woman to risk her happiness with a man of my character ? I am so well that I hope to be abroad in a few days. My health must be restored in the first place ; then I have Mrs. to take care of. You may say what you please, but she is a good girl ; she is a contented, cheerful temper, and is perfectly generous ; she has not had a single guinea from me since you were here, nor has she given me the least hint as if she wanted money. I am indeed fond of her ; but some tender feelings must be forgotten. She comes and drinks tea with me once or twice a week. Next month will pro- bably fix our alliance, which may be completed next year. I am glad Nicholls is so good a man. Do you wish to have the speeches of our Judges ? they are imper- fect : you will soon have a better edition. With com- pliments to Mrs. Temple, I ever am yours, etc., James Boswell. 27.] Edinburgh, Wi September, 1767. My dear Temple, How kind are you to take such a concern in what interests me ! We have been to blame, you say ; and throughout the whole of your last letter you talk in 110 IJ'.TTKKS or BOSW I'.l.L. tlu' plural nuaibor, as it' the atl'cctioii between Miss Jilair and me were of ecjual importance to you as to your tVieml. 1 do lliink her the finest woman I have seen, take her altogether, nor could I wish to be hap- pier in a wife. But in this strange world it is hardly possible to be happy : if uneasiness does not arise from ourselves, it will come to us from others. How unaccountable is it that my father and I should be so ill together ! He is a man of sense and a man of worth ; but from some unhappy turn in his disposition, he is much dissatisfied with a son whom you know. I write to him with warmth, with an honest pride, wishing that he should think of me as I am ; but my letters shock him, and every expression in them is in- terpreted unfavourably. To give you an instance, I send you a letter I had from him a few days ago, How^ galling is it to the friend of Paoli to be treated so ! I have answered him in my own style : I will be myself. I have said, " Why think so strangely of my expression of being Primus Mantua ? Suppose I Avere married to Miss Blair, would I not be Primus Mantua at Adamtown? and wdiy not? Would you not be pleased to see your son happy in independence, culti- vating his little farm and ornamenting his nuptial villa, and filling himself one day, as well as possible, the place of a much greater man?" Temple, would you not like such a son? would you not feel a glow of parental joy? I know you would ; and yet my worthy father writes to me in the LORD AUCHINLECK, 111 manner you see, with that Scots strength of sarcasm which is pecuhar to a North Briton. But he is offended with that fire which you and I cherish as the essence of our souls ; and how can I make him happy ? Am I bound to do so at the expense, not of this or the other agreeable wish, but at the expense of myself. The time was when such a letter from my father as tlie one I enclose would have depressed ; but I am now firm, and, as my revered friend Mr. Samuel Johnson used to say, I feel the privileges of an independent human being ; however, it is hard that I cannot have the pious satisfaction of being well with my father. I send you an extract from a letter of yours which gave him a very bad opinion of Temple in the year 1759; it will divert you to read it at this distance of time. Pray return it, together with my father's letter, by the car- rier who brings you this, and ' Dorando,' of which I have sent only one copy, as I have few here. When you get to London I shall desire Mr. Wilkie, my pub- lisher, to let you have two or three of them. Let me know if packets come safe by your carrier. Sir James Steuart's book is of such a size, and treats of subjects so deep, that I confess I have not read it. Those who are acquainted with such abstruse questions allow him considerable merit, although his opinions are sometimes singular and fanciful; he has a very strange and groundless paragraph against the Corsicans, as if they had been so luxurious as to be obliged to sell their island to the Genoese. I shall correct this mistake in my account of Corsica. 112 l.KTTKllS OK nosWl'.l.l,. The press is opened, aiul my hook is fairly set agoing. " () navis, irlVirt in mare te novum !" Tlic ])root"-slicets anuisc nic finely at breakfast. I cannot help hoping for some applause. You will be kind enough to communicate to me all that you hear, and to conceal from me all ce/ism'e.* I would not however dislike to hear impartial corrections ; perhaps Mr. Gray may say something to you of it.f The last part of my work, entitled the ' Journal of a Tour to Corsica,' is in uiy opinion the most valuable ; you have not had an opportunity to see it. So soon as I find a sure hand I will send you it ; and you must do me the favour to peruse it with care, and write your ob- servations and corrections on a separate paper, refer- ring to the pages, as my Lord Hailes did. Pray in- quire and let me know if you can get a sure hand by whom you can venture to send it to Mr. Wyvill, who is also to revise it for me. Did you see him as he passed ? He promised to me that he would call upon you. I rejoice to hear of the continuance of your con- tentment. Laugh as you please, or reason as you please, I think your present way of life very comfort- able ; reading little, riding, walking, eating, drinking, and sleeping w^ell, and enjoying the society of a wife whom you love. * Sic i?i orig. f We have seen Mr, Gray did say something about it in his letter to Walpolo, but not quite what Boswell would like to have heard : a>ite, p. 60. THE PRINCESS. 113 " Parson, tliese goods in thy possessing, Are better than the bishop's blessing." My dear friend, I weary you with a letter of an in- tolerable length : I cannot however conclude without saying one word of the Princess. I shall write to her tomorrow, and shall soon go and throw myself at her feet. I offer my best compliments to Mrs. Temple, to whom 1 hope to pay my respects next spring at Mam- head. My old friend, at this moment our first ac- quaintance at Hunter's class comes full into my mind : what a crowd of ideas since ! Adieu. James Boswell, 28.] Edinburgh, l^d September, 1767. My dear Temple, I am really uneasy at not having heard from you since I sent you a packet by the Berwick carrier. Thomas took the packet to him on Thursday se'nnight; it contained 'Dorando,' a long letter from your old friend, with one from his father. Pray write to me, and if you have not received the packet, make the carrier give an account what he has done with it, for I should be vexed to think that it has fallen into the hands of strangers. If my uneasiness is only occa- sioned by your indolence I shall be glad, though 1 shall not spare you. 1 have written to the Princess in a style more and more as you would wish ; 1 expect to hear from her soon. I have received a most polite letter from Sir I lit LETTERS OF BOSWELL. .Tamos Struart, in answer to one which 1 wrote to liini with regard to a passage in his 'PoHtical Eco- nomy,' which is injnrions to the Corsicans. I shall settle that matter in my book, in terms very respect- ful to Sir James. I sec in the newspapers a specimen of a ' Tour to the East' by Lord Baltimore, just published; it seems to be written with the most careless ease, but with vivacity, and now and then you meet with admirable little anecdotes. Lord Baltimore has had a very good opportunity to know something of Eastern manners ; he is a man of singular independence and whim ; he lived a long time at Constantinople, wore the dress of the country, kept his seraglio of the finest women, and, in short, enjoyed the existence of a Turk. Do you, my dear Temple, enjoy the existence of a worthy clergyman of the Church of England. Make my best compliments to your one wife, and believe me Ever your afi'ectionate friend, James Boswell. 29.] Edinhunjli, 2nd October, 1707. My dearest Friend, Your letter from London relieved me from a great deal of anxiety, both on your account and the letters, which would have made a bad appearance to strangers. How can you let indolence occasion me so much un- easiness? Your letter came late, night before last. It was not in my power to get £30 ready for last THE CORSICAN JOURNAL. 115 night's post ; you have along with this a draft for that sum. I have sent you a copy of my ' Corsican Journal,' which you will do me the favour to peruse in the shades of Mamhead, in the tranquillity of your Rectory, and write down on a separate sheet of paper your re- marks and corrections, as my Lord Hailes did; you need not take the trouble to mark both page and line, only page. So soon as you have finished six sheets, send me your remarks, and transmit the sheets to Wy- vill, with franks, addressed to me, along with them, so that he may send them to me. Wyvill, I fancy, will be in Essex. I expect a letter from him every day, with his address if he is not, which I shall send to you ; his address in Essex is, " Rector of Black Notely, near Braintree, Essex." You will find many various readings in my 'Journal,' — tell which you prefer. Now» Temple, I trust you will be diligent and clever to aid your friend, and will let me see that, had Fortune made you a Minister of State, you would have been an able and expeditious one. I allow you a day to three sheets. Transmit to Wyvill six, and six to me, [with] your remarks. Pray be my Atticus. I am very near well, I go west on Wednesday. There is again a little silence in the Princess. Compliments to Mrs. Temple, Ever yours, James Boswell. i2 I U'» LETTERS OF BOSWELL. 30.] Admntown, Uh November, 1767. My dear Temple, The pleasure of youi* countenance, in reading the date of this letter, is before me at this moment. I imagine it cannot be less than I felt glowing in my eyes when I received the last of your letters, with the elegant, and, I am fully persuaded, sincere commenda- tions of my ' Corsican Journal' In short, I am sitting in the room with my Princess, who is at this moment a finer woman than ever she appeared to me before. But, my valuable friend, be not too certain of your Boswell's felicity, for indeed he has little of it at pre- sent. You must know that Miss Blair's silence, which I mentioned to you, was a silence notwithstanding of my having written three letters to her, and — (here supper interrupted me ; the rest is written in my own room, the same where you slept) — when a former quar- rel should have taught her that she had a lover of an anxious temper. For ten days I was in a fever, but at last I broke the enchantment. However I would not be too sullen in my pride ; I wrote to her from Auchinleck, and icislied her jojj, etc. ; she answered me, with the same ease as ever, that I had no occa- sion. I then wrote her a strange Sultanish letter, very cold and very formal, and did not go to see her for near three weeks. At last I am here, and our meeting has been such as you paint in your last but one. I have been here one night ; she insisted on my staying another. I am dressed in green and gold. I I COSTUME OF A LOVER. 117 have my chaise, in which I sit alone like Mr. Gray, and Thomas rides by me in a claret-coloured suit with a silver-laced hat. But the Princess and I have not yet made up our quarrel ; she talks lightly of it. I am resolved to have a serious conversation with her tomorrow morning. If she can still remain indifferent as to what has given me much pain, she is not the woman I thought her, and from tomorrow morning shall 1 be severed from her as a lover. I shall just bring myself, I hope, to a good, easy tranquillity. If she feels as I wish her to do, I shall adore her while my blood is warm. You shall hear fully from Au- chinleck. We have talked a great deal of you. She has made me laugh heartily, with her ideas of you before you arrived, — an old friend, an English clergyman. She imagined she was to see a fat man, with a large white whig, a man something like Mr. Whitefield. Upon honour, she said so ; but she and Mrs. Blair were quite charmed with the young parson, with his neat black periwig and his polite address. They send you a thousand compliments. With my best compliments to Mrs. Temple, I am, ever yours, James Boswell. BosweU, having heard three people at Ayr agree in abusing the young lady to whom he was so devoted and was paying his addresses, and growing tired of 118 LETTERS or UOSWELL. his position towards her, now determines to give up tlie " Scots hiss," and hopes " to find an EngUshwonian who will be sensible of my merit, and will strive to please my singular humour." 31.] Auchinleck, Sunday, 8th November, 1767. My dear Friend, I wrote you from Adamtown, and told you how it was with the Princess and me. Next morning I told her that I had complained to you that she would not make up our last quarrel ; but she did not appear in the least inclined to own herself in the wrong. I confess that, between pride and love, I was unable to speak to her but in a very awkward manner. I came home on Friday ; yesterday I was extremely uneasy. That I might give her a fair opportunity, I sent her a letter, of which I enclose you a copy. Could the proud Boswell say more than you will see there? In the evening I got her answer : it was written with an art and indifference astonishing from so young a lady. " I have not yet found out that I was to blame. If you have been uneasy on my account, I am indeed sorry for it ; I should be sorry to give any person uneasi- ness, far more one whose cousin and friend I shall al- ways be." She refused sending me the lock, " because (in the eyes of the world) it is improper;" and she says very cool things upon that head. What think you of such a return to a letter full of warmth and admiration ? In short, Tem})le, she is cunning, and sees mv weakness. But I now see her, and thousrh I FEVER OF LOVE. 119 cannot but suffer severely, I from this moment resolve to think no more of her. I send you the copy of a note which goes to her tomorrow morning. Wish me joy, my good friend, of having discovered the snake before it was too late. I should have been ruined had I made such a woman my wife. Luckily for me, a neighbour who came to Auchinleck last night told me tliat he had heard three people at Ayr agree in abu- sing her as a jilt. What a risk have I run ! How- ever, as there is still a possibility that all this may be mistake and malice, I shall behave to her in a very respectful manner, and shall never say a word against her but to you. After this, I shall be upon my guard against ever indulging the least fondness for a Scots lass ; I am a soul of a more southern frame. I may perhaps be fortunate enough to find an Englishwoman who will be sensible of my merit, and will study to please my singular humour. By what you write of Mrs. Temple, I wish I had such a wife, though indeed your temper is so much better than mine that perhaps she and I would have quar- relled before this time, had we been married when you were. Love is a perfect fever of the mind. I question if any man has been more tormented with it than myself. Even at this moment, as I write, my heart is torn by vexing thoughts of this fine Princess of ours ; but I may take comfort, since I have so often recovered. You are too hard upon me in judging of the"diffcr- ences between father and son. I never wrote to him \'20 LETTERS OF BOSWEI.L. that I would take no pleasure in coiuitry affairs till he was dead ; I said indeed that I should hardly give my mind to them till I had a place of my own ; and, I added, Auchinleck will be well taken care of while you live, and you may be assured that it shall not be neglected when you are gone. You see how a temper anyhow out of tune can interpret. Perhaps I do the same by the Princess ; however I promise you I shall be conscientious in doing a great deal to make my worthy father easy and happy. He and I are at pre- sent very well ; it is merely a jarring of temper which occasions our difficulties. One word more of the Princess. The two last days I was with her she was more engaging than you can conceive. She and I had the most agreeable conver- sation together, and she assm'ed me she was not going to be married to any other man; and yet. Temple, with what a cold reserve does she behave ! Let her go ! Do you know I had a letter from Zelide the other day, written in English, and showing that an old flame is easily rekindled ; but you will not hear of her, — what say you ? Ah ! my friend, shall I have Miss Bosville? You see, I am the old man. I am much obliged to you for your remarks on my ' Cor- sican Journal.' Please return the letters enclosed. My comphments to Mrs. Temple. Ever yours, James Boswell. TAINT OF INSANITY, 121 32.] Strathaven, 9th November, 1767. My ever dear Temple, Having left Auclimleck this morning in a hurry, I brought my letters to you in my pocket so far on the road ; and, as your kind packet of the 30th Oc- tober has overtaken me, I have opened one of my letters, and add a few lines. Upon my soul, the mad- ness, of which I have a strong degree in my compo- sition, is at present so heightened by love, that I am absolutely deprived of judgement. How could I pos- sibly be in a rage at the Princess's last letter ! I now sit calmly in this village, and read it with delight; what could she do more? Like you, she thought I could not expect to hear from her when she expected me every day at Adamtown ; therefore she was not to blame, and she had too much spirit to own herself in the wrong when she was conscious of no fault. Yet how amiably does she comply with ray request, and tell me that she is sorry that I have been uneasy on her account. " I shall always be a cousin and friend. I hope you will not look upon this as a new quarrel." I love her. Temple, with my whole heart ; I am en- tirely in her power. Were she a woman of such a temper as I have, how might she fret against me ! " He comes to Auchinleck, and is near three weeks without coming to see me. When he comes, not a tender word, not one expression of a lover. How can I allow my affections to fix on such a man?" She has defended herself very well in refusing me the lock ; I shall get it from her at Edinburgh. Oh, my 122 LKTTERS OF BOSWELL. friend, be watchful over tue in this precious period ! If slie does not write to me, she is certainly nnfechng, and I must at any price preserve my own character ; if she writes as I can imagine, I will consecrate my- self to her for ever. I must have her to learn the harpsichord and French ; she shall be one of the first women in the island. But let me take care ; I know not what is in store. Do you think it possible she can have any scheme of marrying another? I will not suspect her. Your remarks are of great service to me. I am glad you show my 'Journal' to Lord Lisburne ; but I must have my great preceptor, Mr. Johnson, introduced : Lord Hailes has approved of it. Temple, I wish to be at last an uniform, pretty man. I am astonishingly so already, but I wish to be a man wbo deserves Miss B. (by the bye, your expression, " Be perpetually with Miss B.," is fine ; it made me more affectionate towards you than ever). I am always for fixing some period for my perfection as far as possible. Let it be when my account of Corsica is published ; I shall then have a character which I must support. I will swear, like an ancient disciple of Py- thagoras, to observe silence ; I will be grave and re- served, though cheerful and communicative, of what is verum afqiie decens. One great fault of mine is talk- ing at random ; I will guard against it. My feudal Seigneurs are printed off in the account. Adieu, my best friend ! I thank God for such a friend. Ever yours, J. B. NEGOTIATIONS CONTINUED. 123 33.] Edinburgh, lUJt December, 1767. My dear Temple, You have reason to blame me for a too long silence, after having received all your friendly remarks on my 'Journal,' and while you was uncertain as to my nego- tiations with the Princess. I am sincerely obliged to you for polishing my Corsican monument ; it is now complete, and I would fain hope it will do both the brave islanders and myself a great deal of honour. As to the Princess, I sent the letter which you re- turned. She did not write, but bid her aunt tell me that she and I were as good friends as ever. This did not satisfy me, and for several weeks did I strive to break my chain ; at last she came to town, and I have had a long conversation with her. She assured me she did not believe me serious, or that I was uneasy, and that it was my own fault if ever she and I quar- relled ; I in short adored her, and was convinced she was not to blame. I told her that henceforth she would entertain no doubt that I sincerely loved her, and, Temple, I ventured to seize her hand. She is really the finest woman to me I ever saw. I am just now going to meet her at the concert, after which I sup with her at Lord Kaimes's, along with her cousin the beautiful young Duchess of Gordon ; I am there- fore in a hurry and a flutter, and must break off, but in a day or two I shall write you fully. In the mean- time, my friend, wish me joy of my present peace of mind, and make ray compliments to the woman to 124 LETTERS OF HOSWKLI,. whom T SCO you owe a great deal. Adieu, my best friend ! Ever yours, James Boswell. 34.] Edlnhuryh, 24//< Becemher, 1767. My dearest Friend, In my last I told you that, after I had resolved to give up with the Princess for ever, I resolved first to see her, I was so lucky as to have a very agreeable interview, and was convinced by her that she was not to blame. This happened on a Thursday ; that even- ing her cousin and most intimate friend, the Duchess of Gordon, came to town. Next day I was at the concert with them, and afterwards supped at Lord Kaimes's. The Princess appeared distant and re- served ; I could hardly believe that it was the same woman with whom I had been quite easy the day before ; I was then uneasy. Next evening I was at the Play with them ; it was ' Othello.' I sat close behind the Princess, and at the most affecting scenes I pressed my hand upon her waist ; she was in tears, and rather leaned to me. The jealous Moor described my very soul. I often spoke to her of the torment she saw before her ; still I thought her distant, and still I felt uneasy. On Sunday the Duchess went away. I met the Princess at church ; she was dis- tant as before. I passed the evening at her aunt's, where I met a cousin of ray Princess, a young lady of Glasgow, who had been with us at Adamtown. A DIALOGUE. 125 She told me she had something to communicate, and she then said my behaviour to the Princess was such, that Mrs. B. and her daughter did not know how to behave to me ; that it was not honourable to engage a young lady's affections while I kept myself free ; in short, the good cousin persuaded me that the Princess had formed an attachment for me, and she assured me the Nabob had been refused. On Monday forenoon I waited on Miss B. I found her alone, and she did not seem distant ; I told her that I was most sincerely in love with her, and that I only dreaded those faults which I had acknowledged to her. I asked her seri- ously if she now believed me in earnest. She said she did. I then asked her to be candid and fair, as I had been with her, and to tell me if she had any particular liking for me. What think you, Temple, was her an- swer? "No; I really have no particular liking for you ; I like many people as well as you." Temple, you must have it in the genuine dialogue. Boswell. — Do you indeed ? Well, I cannot help it ; I am obliged to you for telling me so in time. I am sorry for it. Princess. — I like Jeany Maxwell (Duchess of Gor- don) better than you. B. — Very well ; but do you like no man better than me ? P.— No. B. — Is it possible that you may like me better than other men ? B. — I don't know what is possible. 126 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. (By this time I had risen and placed myself by her, and was in real agitation.) B. — 1 '11 {('W you what, my dear Miss Blair, I love you so nnich that I am very unhappy if you cannot love nie. I must, if possible, endeavour to forget you. AVhat would you have me do ? P. — I really don't know what you should do. B. — It is certainly i)ossible that you may love me ; and if you shall ever do so, I shall be the happiest man in the world. Will you make a fair bargain with me ? If you should happen to love me, will you own it ? P.— Yes. B. — And if you should happen to love another, will you tell me immediately, and help me to make myself easy? P.— Yes, I will. B. — Well, you are very good (often squeezing and kissing her fine hand, while she looked at me with those beautiful black eyes). P. — I may tell you, as a cousin, what I would not tell to another man. B. — You may indeed. You are very fond of Au- chinleck, that is one good circumstance. P. — I confess I am. I wish I liked you as well as I do Auchinleck. B. — I have told you how fond I am of you ; but unless you like me sincerely, I have too much spirit to ask you to live with me, as I know that you do not like me. If I could have you this moment for my wife, I would not. A DIALOGUE. 127 P. — I should not like to put myself in your offer though, B. — Remember, you are both my cousin and my mistress, you must make me suffer as little as pos- sible, as it may happen that I may engage your affec- tions, I should think myself a most dishonourable man if I were not now in earnest, and, remember, I depend upon your sincerity ; and whatever happens, you and I shall never have another quarrel. P. — Never. B. — And I may come and see you as much as I please ? P.— Yes. My worthy friend, what sort of a scene was this ? It was most curious. She said she would submit to her husband in most things. She said that to see one loving her would go far to make her love that person ; but she would not talk anyhow positively, for she never had felt the uneasy anxiety of love. We were an hour and a half together, and seemed pleased all the time. I think she behaved with spirit and pro- priety. I admire her more than ever. She intended to go to her aunt's, twelve miles from town, next day : her jaunt was put off for some days. Yesterday I saw her again; I was easy and cheerful, and just endea- voured to make myself agreeable. This forenoon I was again with her. I told her how uneasy I was that she should be three weeks absent. She said I might amuse myself well enough: she seemed quite indifferent. I was growing angry again, 128 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. but I recollected how she had candidly told me that she had no })ai'ticnlar liking for me. Temple, where am I now ? What is the meaning of this ? I drank tea with her this afternoon, and sat near four hours with her mother and her. Our con- versation turned all on the manner in which two people might live. She has the justest ideas. She said she knew me now ; she could laugh me out of my ill-humour ; she could give Lord Auchinleck a lesson how to manage me. Temple, what does the girl mean ? We talked a good deal of you : you are a prodigious favourite. Now, my worthy friend, assist me. You know my strange temper and impetuous disposition ; shall I boldly shake her off, as I fear I cannot be pa- tient and moderate ? or, am I not bound in honour to suffer some time, and watch her heart ? How long must I suffer? how must I do? When she comes back, shall I affect any indifference, to tiy her? or, shall 1 rather endeavour to inspire her with my flame ? Is it not below me to be made uneasy by her ? or, may I not be a philosopher, and, without uneasiness, take her, if she likes me, and if not, let her alone ? During her absence, I have time to get a return from you. It is certainly possible that all she has said may be hterally true ; but is not her indifference a real fault ? Consult Mrs. Temple, and advise me. Amidst all this love, I have been wild as ever. * * * Trust me in time coming ; I give you my word of honour. Temple : I have nothing else to save me. I have this day received a large packet from Paoh, CORSICAN COMPLIMENTS. 129 Avitli a letter, an elegant letter, from the University of Corte, and also an extract of an oration pronounced this year at the opening of the University, in which oration I am celebrated in a manner which does me the greatest honour. I think, Temple, I have had my full share of fame ; yet my book is still to come, and I cannot doubt its doing me credit. Come, why do I allow myself to be uneasy for a Scots lass ? Rouse me, my friend ! Kate has not fire enough ; she does not know the value of her lover ! If on her return she still remains cold, she does not deserve me. I will not quarrel with her : she cannot help her defects : but I will break my enchanting fetters. Tomorrow I shall be happy with my devotions. I shall think of you, and wish to be at Mamhead. Could you assist me to keep up my real dignity among the illiberal race of Scots lawyers ? Adieu, my dearest friend ! My best compliments to your amiable spouse. J. B. 130 1768-1773. BOSWELL MAERIES. — DR. JOHNSOX's OPINION OF MRS. BOSWELL. UXORIANA. 'account OF CORSICA.' — TRIP TO IRELAND. ADVERTISES HIS FASHIONABLE VISITS. SHAKSPEARE JUBILEE. — RESIDES AT EDINBURGH. — ELECTED A MEMBER OF " THE CLUB." LOVE AFFAIRS BEFORE HIS MARRIAGE. — THE PRIN- CESS AGAIN AND THE NABOB. CORRESPONDS WITH "THE CHARMING DUTCHWOMAN." — SUCCESS OF ' ACCOUNT OF COR- SICA.' — SETS UP HIS CHARIOT. — VISITS FROM HUME AND JOHNSON. — Robertson's 'charles v.' — "la belle irlan- DAISE." MENTAL CONFLICT. LETTERS FROM THE MARRIED BOSWELL. — HUME UPON HISTORY. — BIRTH AND DEATH OF A SON. — BOSWELL's MARRIED LIFE. Another very considerable interval here occurs in the correspondence : this period of Boswell's life was how- ever a very important one. The most remarkable and fortunate step which he took was perhaps in the au- tumn of 1769, when he married Miss Margaret Mont- gomerie, a lady of whom frequent mention is made in the following letters. It would seem that her hus- band had good reason to be attached to her ; but it was not in his nature to avoid making all who had in- timate relation with him more or less ridiculous. For example, in his political pamplilet, the ' Letter to the MISS MONTGOMERIE. 131 People of Scotland,' we find his wife paraded in the midst of the writer's patriotic eloquence, in order to gratify his egotism. The passage occurs when he is speaking of the Earl of Eglintoun and his friends : — " Amongst those friends," says he, " I myself am one of the warmest, both as an enthusiast for ancient feudal attachment, and as having the honour and hap- piness to he married to his Lordship's relation, a true Montgomerie,io]iom I esteem, whom Hove, after fifteen years, as on the day luhen she gave me her hand.'' Again, in the same letter, he describes " that brave Irishman," Captain Macbride, as "the cousin of my wife and the friend of my heart." We find Dr. Johnson's opinion of the lady in a let- ter to Mrs. Tlirale;* but the learned lexicographer's opinion was more valuable and trustworthy perhaps upon many other subjects than when he took it upon himself to pass judgement upon the wives of his friends, or indeed on ladies in general. Dr. Johnson describes Mrs. Boswell as having " the mien and manner of a gentlewoman, and such a person and mind as would not in any place either be admired or con- demned. She is, in a proper degree, inferior to her husband ; she cannot rival him, nor can he ever be ashamed of her." One can hardly accept the compa- rison in favour of Boswell in its full signification, for there is no ground for believing that she made herself either contemptible or ridiculous. Boswell kept a book which he called ' Uxoriana,' in * August 23rd, 1773. K 2 132 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. which the " good things" his wife said were preserved. Some of these, ahhoiigh at the husband's expense, were duly recorded. Thus, with reference to his indiscri- minate admiration of Johnson, she remarks, that she had often seen a bear led by a man, but nei^er before a man led by a bear. Mrs. Boswell, it would seem, endeavoured by her sarcasm thus to check her hus- band's absurd vanity, but not always without irritating him. On one occasion he says, when " I was warm, telling of my own consequence and generosity, my wife made some cool, humbling remark upon me ; I flew into a violent passion ; I said, ' If you throw cold water upon a plate of iron much heated, it will crack into shivers.' "* There was apparently no great mutual regard be- tween Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Boswell. The reader of the Life of the " big man" (as Goldsmith calls him) wiU remember a letter in which, after narrating his safe re- turn from his tour in Scotland " without any incommo- dity, danger, or weariness," he tells Boswell, with refer- ence to his departure from Auchinleck, "I know Mrs. Boswell wished me well to go ; her wishes have not been disappointed." The foot-note which the biogra- pher appends to this rather surly observation on a very hospitable host, is characteristic. In forming this opinion, he says. Dr. Johnson " showed a very acute penetration. My wife paid him the most assiduous and respectful attention while he was our guest, so that I wonder how he discovered her wishing his de- * 'Boswelliana,' Philobibliou, vol. ii. IDEAS OF A WIFE. 133 parture. The truth is, that his irregular hours and luicouth habits, such as turning the candles with their heads downwards when they did not burn bright enough, and letting the wax drop on the carpet, could not but be disagreeable to a lady ; besides, she had not that high admiration of him which was felt by most of those who knew him ; and, what was very natural to a female mind, she thought he had too much influence over her husband. She once in a little warmth made, with more point than justice, this remark upon that subject," — and he then repeats the simile just alluded to, of his being led by a bear. Boswell had not been very successful in exciting the Doctor's interest in his nuptials ; he had at- tempted to connect usefully the two positions which he now claimed to occupy, — of husband and biographer. He endeavoured in vain to persuade Dr. Johnson to discourse of the duties of a husband. "Although," says he, " I had promised myself a great deal of in- structive conversation with him on the conduct of the married state, of which I had then a near prospect, he did not say much upon that topic. Mr. Seward heard him once say, ' A man has a very bad chance for happiness in that state, unless he marries a woman of very strong and fixed principles of religion.' He maintained to me, contrary to the common notion, that a woman would not be the worse wife for being learned ; in which, from all that I have observed of Artemisias, I humbly differed from him. Tliat a woman should be sensible and well-informed I allow 134 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. to be a great advantage, and think that Sir Thomas Overbury, in his rude versification, has very judiciously pointed out that degi'ee of intelhgence which is to be desired in a female companion : — " Give me, next good, an tinderstanding toife. By nature wise, not learned by mucli art ; Some hiowledge on her side will all my life More scope of conversation impart ; Besides, her unborn virtue fortifie ; They are most firmly good who best know why."* Bos well however managed to procure and has retailed some remarks on second marriages from the Doctor, which is all the success he seems to have obtained. The publication, in the Spring of 1768, of Boswell's 'Account of Corsica, with Journal of his Tour,' to which reference has already been made, attracted con- siderable attention. This gave the author the most lively joy ; and when General Paoli arrived in London in the autumn of the next year, Boswell's ecstasy was excessive ; he found that it was his " duty as well as his pleasure to attend much upon " the hero of Corsican liberty, and accordingly rendered himself superbly ridiculous by thrusting himself on all occasions into the splendour of the General's reflected light. The Journal of Dr. Johnson's conversations even languished, in consequence chiefly of the obsequious court which Boswell delighted to pay to the distinguished foreigner. From the same cause perhaps the Temple correspon- dence also may have flagged. * ' Life of Johnson,' anno 1769. VISIT TO IRELAND. 135 Boswell, previously to his marriage, went over to Ireland, attracted, it may be, by the " fair Irlandaiss." Some of his doings are chronicled in the ' Public Adver- tiser,' and probably, as suggested by Mr. Croker, with his own hand. The fashionable subscriber to that paper read on the 7th of July, 1769,* that, " James Boswell, Esq., having now visited Ireland, he dined with his Grace the Duke of Leinster, at his seat at Carton ; he went also, by special invitation, to visit the Lord- Lieutenant at his country-seat at Leixlip, to which he was conducted, in one of his Excellency's coaches, by Lieut.- Colonel Walshe. He dined there, and stayed all night, and next morning came in the coach v»^ith his Excellency to the Phoenix Park, and was present at a review of Sir Joseph Yorke's dragoons. He also dined with the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor. He is now set out on his return to Scotland." Beside his marriage and his parasitical zeal in at- tending on Paoli, another event intensely exciting to Boswell was the Shakspeare jubilee at Stratford-upon- Avon. In this festival he took part with his wonted bustle and animated vanity. The ' London Magazine' of September, 1769, con- tains an amusing and characteristic ' Letter from James Boswell, Esq., on the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon / also an ' Account of the Armed Corsican Chief at the Masquerade at Shakspeare's Jubilee, with a fine whole- length portrait of James Boswell, Esq., in the dress of an Armed Corsican Chief, as he appeared at the * See Croker's edition of Boswell's ' T.ife of Dr. Johnson.' 136 LETTERS OF BO SWELL. Jubilee Mask.' The ' Accoimt,' we may assume, was written by the armed Corsican chief himself. The writer says : "One of the most remarkable masks upon the occasion was James Boswell, Esq., in the dress of an armed Corsican chief. He entered the amphitheatre about twelve o'clock ; he wore a short dark-coloured coat of coarse cloth, scarlet waistcoat, breeches, and black spatterdashes ; his cap or bonnet was of black cloth ; on the front of it was embroidered in gold letters, ' Viva la Liberta,' and on one side of it was a handsome blue feather and cockade, so that it had an elegant as well as a warlike appearance. On the breast of his coat was sewed a Moor's head, the crest of Cor- sica, surrounded with branches of laurel ; he had also a cartridge-pouch, into which was stuck a stiletto, and on his left side a pistol was hung upon the belt of his cartridge-pouch. He had a fusee slung across his shoulder, wore no powder in his hair, but had it plaited at its fidl length, wdth a knot of blue ribbons at the end of it. He had, by w-ay of staff, a very cu- rious vine, all of one piece, wdth a bird finely carved upon it, emblematical of the sweet bard of Avon. He wore no mask, saying that it was not proper for a gallant Corsican. So soon as he came into the room, he drew universal attention. The novelty of the Corsican dress, its becoming appearance, and the character of the brave nation, concurred to distinguish the armed Corsican chief. He was first accosted by Mr. Garrick, with whom he had a good deal of conversation, There was an admirable dialogue between Lord Grosvenor, THE SHAKSPEARE JUBILEE. 137 in tlie character of a Turk, and the Corsican, on the different constitution of the countries so opposite to each other, — Despotism and Liberty ; and Captain Thomson, of the navy, in the character of an honest tar, kept it up very well ; he expressed a strong incli- nation to stand by the brave Islanders. Mr. Bos well danced both a minuet and country-dance with a very pretty Irish lady, Mrs. Sheldon, wife to Captain Shel- don of the 3Sth Foot (Lord Blany) ; she was dressed in a genteel domino, and before she danced threw off her mask. Mr. Boswell having come to the Jubilee to contribute his share towards what he called a classical institution in honour of Shakspeare, being also desirous of paying compliment to Mr. Garrick, with whom he has always been on a most agreeable footing, and never unmindful of the cause which he has espoused, he wrote the following verses, Avhich, it is thought, are well suited to the occasion, while, at the same time, they preserved the true Corsican character." It M^ould be asking too much of any one to peruse these lines ; it will suffice to say that they commenced thus : — " 'From the rude banks of Golo's rapid flood, . . . Behold a Corsican ! " and having affirmed that " In man's firm breast concealed its grief should lie, Which melts with grace in woman's gentle eye ;" he begs his countrymen to " Give to Corsica a noble jubilee;" and so concludes. Boswell and his wife were now residing in Scotland, 138 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. and we do not hear imich of him, either in his corre- spondence with Mr. Temple or as Dr. Jolmson's bio- grapher. In a letter to the latter, dated Edinburgh, 1771, he says: — "Although I am conscious that my veneration and love for Mr. Johnson have never in the least abated, yet I have deferred for almost a year and a half to write to him." In the Spring of 1772, however, he returned to London and its society for a few months ; he repeated his visit the following Spring, and was proposed as a candidate for the Literary Club, at Dr. Johnson's instance, on April 30th, 1773, and duly elected. " 1 was left," says he, " at Beauclerk's till the fate of my election should be announced to me. I sat in a state of anxiety, which even the charm- ing conversation of Lady de Beauclerk could not en- tirely dissipate. In a short time I received the agree- able intelligence that I was chosen. I hastened to the place of meeting, and was introduced to such a society as can seldom be found : Mr. Edmund Burke, whom I then saw for the first time, and whose splendid talents had long made me ardently wish for his ac- quaintance ; Dr. Nugent, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. (afterwards Sir William) Jones, and the company with whom I had dined (at Mr. Beauclerk's). L^pon my entrance Johnson placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with humorous formality gave me a charge, pointing out the conduct expected from me as a good member of this Club."* * See ' Life of Johnson,' anno 1773. It is said by Mr. Croker, ROMANCE WITH MISS BLAIK,. 139 We have anticipated events in referring here to his marriage ; before that happy occurrence took place, several other passages of love were rehearsed, as will be seen in the following letters. 35.] Ed'mburfjh, Sfk Febrnari/, 1768. My dear Friend, All is over between Miss Blair and me. I have de- layed writing till I could give you some final account. About a fortnight after she went to the country, a re- port went that she was going to be married to Sir Alexander Gilmom*, member of Parliament for the county of Mid-Lothian, a young man about thirty, who has £1600 a year of estate, was formerly an officer in the Guards, and is now one of the clerks of the Board of Green Cloth, £1000 a year, — in short, a noble match, though a man of expense, and obliged to lead a London life. After the fair agreement between her and me, which I gave you fully in my last, I had a title to know the truth. I wrote to her seriously, and told her, if she did not write me an answer I should beheve the report to be true. After three days I concluded, from her silence, that she was at least engaged. I endeavoured to laugh off my passion, and on the authority of Mr. Milman, who examined the records of the Ckib with special view of ascertaining the frequency of the visits of botli Boswell and Dr. Johnson at the Club, that the two only met at the Club some seven or eight times. The last occasion was June 22nd, 1784. Boswell indeed does not appear to have been one of those who regularly attended the evening meetings, even when he was visitins; London. 140 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. I got Sir Alexander Gilmour to frank a letter to her, whicli I wrote in a pleasant strain, and amused myself with the whim ; still however I was not absolutely certain, as her conduct has been so prudent all along. At last she comes to town ; and who comes too but my old rival, the Nabob ? I got acquainted with Mr. FuUarton, and he and I joked a good deal about our heiress. Last night he proposed that he and I should go together and pay her a visit for the fu'st time after her return from the country ; accordingly we went, and I give you my word. Temple, it was a curious scene. However the Princess behaved exceedingly well, though with a reserve more than ordinary. When we left her we both exclaimed, " Upon my soul, a fine w^oman !" I began to like the Nabob much ; so I said to him, " I do believe, Mr. Fullarton, you and I are in the same situa- tion here ; is it possible to be upon honour, and gene- rous, in an affair of this kind ? " We agreed it was. Each then declared he was serious in his love for Miss B. ; each protested he never before believed the other in earnest. We agreed to deal by one another in a fair and candid manner. I carried him to sup at a lady's, a cousin of mine, where we stayed till half an hour past eleven ; we then went to a tavern, and the good old claret was set before us. He told me that he had been most assiduous in attending Miss Blair, but she never gave him the least encouragement, and de- clared he was convinced she loved me as much as a woman could love a man. With equal honesty I told all that had passed between her and me, and your ob- THE PRINCESS AND HER LOVERS. 141 servation on the wary mother. " What!" said he, " did Temple say so ? If he had Hved twenty years in the country with them, he could not have said a better thing." I then told him Dempster's humorous say- ing, that all Miss B.'s connections were in an absolute confederacy to lay hold of every man who has a thou- sand a year, and how I called their system a salmon- fsJiiuf/. "You have hit it," said he ; " we're all kept in play ; but I am positive you are the fish, and Sir Alex- ander is only a mock salmon, to force you to jump more expeditiously at the bait." We sat till two this morning ; we gave our words, as men of honour, that we would be honest to each other, so that neither should suffer needlessly ; and, to satisfy ourselves of our real situation, we gave our words that we should both ask her this morning, and I should go first. Could there be anything better than this ? The Nabob talked to me with the warmth of the Indies, and })rofessed the greatest pleasure on being acquainted Avith me. Well, Temple, I went this morning, and she made tea to me alone. I then asked her seriously, if she was to be married to Sir Alexander. She said it was odd to believe everything people said, and why did I put such question ? etc. I said that she knew very well that I was much in love with her, and that if I had any chance I would take a good deal of trouble to make myself agreeable to her. She said I need not take the trouble, and I must not be angry, for she thought it best to tell me honestly. " What, then," 142 LETTERS OF BOSVVELL. said I, "have I no chance?" "No," said she. I asked her to say so upon her word and honour. She fairly repeated the words. So I think, Temple, I had enough. She would not tell me whether she was engaged to the knight : she said she would not satisfy an idle curiosity ; but I own I had no doubt of it. What amazed me was, that she and 1 were as easy and as good friends as ever. I told her, I have great animal spirits, and bear it wonderfully well. But this is really hard : I am thrown upon the wide world again ; I don't know what will become of me. Before dinner the Nabob and I met, and he told me that he went, and in the most serious and sub- missive manner begged to know if she was engaged. She would give him no satisfaction, and treated him with a degree of coldness that overpowered him quite, poor man ! Such is the history of the lovers of this cruel Prin- cess, who certainly is a lucky woman to have had a sovereign sway over so many admirers. I have en- deavoured to make merry on my misfortune. A Crambo Song on losing my Mistress. " Although I be an honest laird, In person rather strong and brawny, For me the heiress never cared, For she would have the knight. Sir* Sawney. " And when, with ardent vows, I swore Loud as Sir Jonathan Trelawny, The heiress showed me to the door, And said, she 'd have the knight, Sir Sawnev. CRUELTY OF THE PRINCESS. 143 " She told me, with a scornful look, I was as ugly as a tawmy ; Por she a better fish could hook. The rich and gallant knight, Sir Sawney." N.B. I can find no more rliymes to Sawney. Now that all is over, I see many faults in lier which I did not see before. Do you not think she has not feeling enough, nor that ingenuous spirit which your friend requires ? The Nabob and many other people are still of opinion that she has not made sure of Sir Sawney, and that all this may be finesse ; but I can- not suspect so young a creature of so much artifice ; and whatever may be in it, I am honourably off, and you may wonder at it, but [ assure you I am very easy and cheerful. I am however resolved to look out for a good wife, either here or in England. I intend to be in London in March : my address will be at Mr. Dilly's, bookseller ; but I expect to hear from you be- fore I set out, which will not be till the 14th of March. I rejoice to hear that Mrs. Temple is in a good way ; my best wishes evet attend you and her. I am, Your most affectionate friend, James Boswell. Feh. Will. — I have allowed my letter to lie by till this day. The heiress is a good Scots lass, but I must have an Englishwoman, My mind is now twice as enlarged as it has been for some months. You cannot say how fine a woman I may marry ; perhaps 144 LETTERS OF BOSAVELL. a Howard, or some other of the noblest in the king- dom. The "Scots lass" being dethroned, the "charming Dutchwoman" of Utrecht is set up in her stead. 36.] London, 24/A March, 1768. My dear Temple, I received, on yesterday, your letter, wanting £15, and this morning 1 got the enclosed bank-bill. I heartily sympathize with the troubles into which the imprudence of one relation and the bad conduct of another, joined to your own generosity, have brought you ; but you know, my valuable friend, we are not here as in a state of felicity. I received your former letter before I left Scotland, and was quite happy to find you were in such a way of thinking with regard to Miss B. I am indeed glad that 1 am rid of her. She has now shown, what I always suspected, that she had no other \dew but just convenience and interest. Do you know, my charming Dutchwoman and I have renewed our correspondence ? and upon my soul. Temple, I must have her. She is so sensible, so accomplished, and knows me so well and likes me so much, that 1 do not see how I can be un- happy with her. Sir John Pringle is now for it ; and this night 1 write to my father, begging his permis- sion to go over to Utrecht just now. She very pro- perly writes, we shoidd meet without any engagement, and if we like an union for life, good and well ; if not, SUCCESS OF THE HISTORY OF CORSICA. 145 we are still to be friends. What think you of this, Temple ? My book has amazing celebrity : Lord Lyttelton, Mr. Walpole, Mrs. Macaulay, Mr. Garrick, have all written me noble letters about it. There are two Dutch translations going forward, and Zelide trans- lates it into French. Pray tell me how I can send you a copy of the second edition, which is already printed. I am in a great hurry. Address at " Mr. Russell's, Upholsterer's, Half-Moon Street, Piccadilly." I am happy Wyvill and you are again friends. I go to Oxford, to venerate the shades of science, with the illustrious Samuel Johnson. Most affectionately yours, James Boswell. " The charming Dutchwoman" yields now in favour of a healthy, young, and amiable Miss Dick, but only for about ten days. 37.] London, \Uli April, 1768. My dearest Priend, I find the fair and lively Zelide has no chance for the vote of the Rector of Mamhead. My father is quite against the scheme, so you need not be afraid. Indeed I should not engage in matrimonial concerns without your approbation ; however, I cannot help thinking both my father and my friend too severe. ZeHde may have had faults, but is she always to have them ? may L 146 LETTERS or BOSWELL. not time have altered her for the better, as it has altered me ? But you will tell me that I am not so greatly altered, as I have still many unruly passions. To confess to you at once. Temple, I have, since my last coming to town, been as wild as ever.* I have seen Claxton, but have not yet had an even- ing with him. Wyvill is in town : he was with me this forenoon. Why have you not answered his kind letter ? I insist on your doing it immediately. I sent you my book more than a week ago, to the London Inn at Exeter : I hope you have received it. Shall we not meet ? Have you positively no bed in your parsonage for me ? But may I not come and sit up a night with you, if Mrs. Temple will allow it ? I would ask you to come to London, but I wish to see you at your own table with yom* wife. My dear friend, how do past years return to my mind ! Forgive my follies ; love me ; contrive how we shall meet, and write to me soon. Ever most sincerely yours, James Boswell. P.S. — I knew you are determined to have me mar- ried. What would you think of the fine, healthy, young, amiable Miss Dick, with Avhom you dined so agreeably ? Would not the worthy Knight call out a homily ? She wants only a good fortune. * The evidence whicli lie proceeds to give his friend of this fact, it is unnecessary to offer here : it shows that the prudence and self- control he promised to display, so soon as his book was out, were not contemporaneous with that event. ZELIDE. 147 38.] Loudon, ^Uh April, 1768. My dear Temple, Your moral lectm^e came to me yesterday in very good time, while I lay suffering severely for immorality. If there is any firmness at all in me, be assured that I shall never again behave in a manner so unworthy tlie friend of Paoli. My warm imagination looks forward with great complacency on the sobriety, the healthful- ness, and the worth of my future life. But I have not yet given up with Z elide. Just after I wrote you last, I received a letter from her, full of good sense and of tenderness. " My dear friend," she says, "it is prejudice that has kept you so much at a distance from me ; if we meet, I am sure that preju- dice will be removed," The letter is in Enghsh ; I have sent it to my father, and have earnestly begged his permission to go and see her. I promise, upon ho- nour, not to engage myself, but only to bring a faith- ful report, and let him decide. Be patient. Temple ; read the enclosed letters, and return them to me. Both my father and you know Zelide only from me ; may I not have taken a prejudice, considering the melancholy of my mind, while I was at Utrecht ? How do we know but she is an inestimable prize? Surely it is worth while to go to Holland to see a fair conclusion, one way or other, of what has hovered in my mind for years. I have written to her, and told her all my per- plexity ; I have put in the plainest light what conduct I absolutely require of her, and what my father will require. I have bid her be my wife at present, and 148 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. comfort me with a letter, in whicli she shall show at once her wisdom, her spirit, and her regard for me. You shall see it. I tell you, man, she knows me and values me as you do. After reading the enclosed let- ters I am siu*e you will be better disposed towards my charming Zelide. I am very ill ; my surgeon, Mr. Forbes, of the Horse-Guards, says, my distemper is one of the worst he has ever seen. I wish I may be able to go to Holland at all. Old General Oglethorpe, who has come to see me, and is mth me often, just on ac- count of my book, bids me not marry till I have first put the Corsicans in a proper situation. You may make a fortune in the doing of it, said he ; or, if you do not, you will have acquked such a character as will entitle you to any fortune. You cannot imagine how happy I am at your ap- probation of my book. Look back, my dearest fi'iend, at the days when we walked together on Arthur's Seat. Ah ! do you rank your Boswell with Molesworth and Stanyan ? You must think awhile, to enjoy the idea ! It is uncertain when I shall get to you, but I long for it. In the meantime pray refresh me with letters. My best wishes to Mrs. Temple. Ever yom's, James Boswell. In one of Boswell's earlier letters, he declared that he would fight against the demon of niggardliness. In the following epistle he declares that he " is really BECOMING THE GREAT MAN, 149 the great man now," and forthwith shows how he has arrived at this elevation, which seems to have been by means of his admirable dinners, good claret, setting np a chariot, and generally by enjoying the fruits of his labour, and " appearing like the friend of Paoli." The detail in the ' Life of Johnson' is rather scanty about this period ; dissipation, the History of Corsica, wife-hunting, a little gambling, and some practice in the law at Edinburgh, interfered perhaps at this time with his pursuit of Dr. Johnson. 39.] Loudon, \Wi May, 1768. My dear Temple, When one is confined, as I am, he has a great avi- dity for the letters of a friend, so that I was uneasy at not hearing again from you so soon as I expected; but I received a kind letter yesterday, which set me to rights. I lost no time in executing your commissions. Poor Thomas was ill, and I was obliged to leave him in Scotland ; but I sent Anthony, my present servant, last night, both to Mrs. Alders and to Mr. Dilly's. The books are to be shipped as soon as possible. So you are pleased with the writings of Zelide ! Ah, my friend ! had you but seen the tender and affectionate letter which she wrote to me, and which I transmitted to ray father ! And can you still oppose my union with her ? Yes, you can ; and, my dearest friend, you are much in the right. I told you what sort of letter I last wrote to her : it was cjiiidid, lair, and con- 150 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. scieiitions. I told her of many difficulties : I told her my fears from her levity and infidel notions, at the same time admiring her, and hoping she was altered for the better. How did she answer? Read her letter. Could any actress at any of the theatres attack me with a keener — what is the word ? not fury, some- thing softer. The lightning that flashes with so much brilliance may scorch, and does not her esprit do so ? Is she not a termagant, or at least will she not be one by the time she is forty? and she is near thirty now. Indeed, Temple, thou reasonest well. You may believe I was perfectly brought over to your opinion by this acid epistle. I was then afraid that my father, out of his great indulgence, might have consented to my going to Utrecht ; but I send you his answer, Avhich is admirable, if you make allowance for his imagina- tion that I am not dutiful to him. I have written to him : — " I will take the ghost's word for a thousand pounds. How happy am I at having a friend at home of such wisdom and firmness. I was eager for the Guards, I was eager for Mademoiselle ; but you have happily restrained me from both. Since then, I have experienced your superior judgment in the two impor- tant articles of a profession and the choice of a wife. I shall henceforth do nothing without your advice." Worthy man ! this will be a solace to him upon his Circuit. As for Zelide, I have written to her that we are agreed. My pride (say I) and your vanity would never agree : it would be like the scene in our burlesque comedy, ' The Rehearsal :' — " I am the bold THE FRIEND OF PAOLI. 151 thunder," cries one; "The quick Hghtning I," cries another, " et voila notre menage!' But she and I Avill always be good correspondents. I forget what I wrote you about somebody having talked of my " placing " the Corsicans, etc. Who was it ? and how is he wrong ? TMs is to try if I can ba- lance your " humbler." I am really the great man now. I have had David Hume, in the forenoon, and Mr. Johnson, in the after- noon, of the same day, visiting me. Sir John Pringle, Dr. Franklin, and some more company, dined with me today ; and ]Mr. Johnson and General Oglethorpe one day, Mr. Garrick alone another, and David Hume and some more literati another, dine with me next week. I give admirable dinners and good claret; and the moment I go abroad again, which will be in a day or two, I set up my chariot. This is enjoying the fruit of my labours, and appearing like the friend of Paoli. By the bye, the Earl of Pembroke and Captain Mea- dows are just setting out for Corsica, and I have the honour of introducing them by a letter to the General. David Plume came on purpose, the other day, to tell me that the Duke of Bedford was very fond of my book, and had recommended it to the Duchess. David is really amiable : I always regret to him his unlucky principles, and he smiles at my faith ; but I have a hope which he has not, or pretends not to have. So who has the best of it, my reverend friend ? David is going to give us two more volumes of History, down to George II. I wish he may not mire himself in the 152 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. Brunswick sands. Pactolus is there. Dr. Robertson is come up laden with his ' Charles V.,' — three large quartos : he has been offered three thousand guineas for it. To what a price has literature arisen ! I am now almost well; and, upon my honour, T shall be moral for the future. 'When I hear from vou aojain, I will fix when I am to be with you, and happy shall I be, I do assure you, though I cannot stay above a night or two. Wyvill is gone home. Claxton asked me to dine with him lately, but I could not go. Pray send me a short introduction to j\Ir. Gray.* You are wrong in being positive against Miss Dick, but of this when we meet. Return me the enclosed letters. Present my best comphments to Mrs. Temple. Ever yours, my dearest friend, James Boswell. The letter of the 24th August now introduces to Mr. Temple another lady, as supreme over all the rest as it is possible for a Bos well's imagination to conceive ; besides which, she was possessed of this world's goods. In fact, " every flower is united, and not a thorn to be found." * Probably the desire for an introduction in this case was not mutual. It has been already seen what Gray and Walpole said to each other in respect of the ' Account of Corsica ;' and one of the re- miniscences of Gray, by the Eev. N. Nicholls, is as follows : " When Boswell published his ' Accoxmt of Corsica,' I found Mr. Gray reading it. ' With this,' he said, ' I am much pleased, because I see the author is too foolish to have invented it.' " (Edition by Mtford. Pickerino-. 1843.) GAMBLING. 153 40.] AucJdnlecJc, 2Uk August, 1768. My dear Temple, You have good reason to accuse me of neglect in being silent so long. My apology, I fear, is not suffi- cient ; for although I was a good deal taken up with the business of the Summer Session, had I not allowed myself to employ a great deal of time in gaming, I need not have put off from day to day writing to my best friend. Some years ago I had the rage of gaming, and I lost more money than I Avas able to pay. Mr. Sheridan advanced me as much as cleared me, but took a promise from me that I should not play at all for three years. When I was abroad he freed me from my promise, but restricted me not to lose above three guineas at a sitting. I thought my passion for gaming had been quite gone ; but since I came last to Scotland I began again to try a game of chance, and I found the fever still lurking in my veins, and it seized me for awhile, and I know not how much harm it might have done me had it continued ; but after having recovered myself so as to have lost about fourteen guineas, I have made a resolution never to play at a game of chance, and never at Whist but for a trifle, to make up a party. My dear Temple, will you be so good as to pardon this last neglect, from which I am sure I suffer more than you do ; and let us henceforth keep up a close correspondence, and so live together as much as pos- sible at a distance. Your misfortune by the bank- ruptcy of Mr. Fciivvick Stow really afllictt'd me; you 154 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. have a noble spirit, not to be cast down by so many misfortunes. Are you in any immediate want of money? If you are, I Avill send you all that I can command. Do you remember how generous you was to me Avhen I wanted to purchase a commission in the Guards ? I hope Mrs. Temple is in a good w^ay ; let me know particularly about her. I am exceed- ingly lucky in having escaped the insensible Miss B. and the furious Zelide, for I have now seen the finest creature that ever was formed, la helle Liandaise.^ Pigure to yourself. Temple, a young lady just sixteen, formed like a Grecian nymph, with the sweetest coun- tenance, full of sensibility, accomplished, with a Dub- lin education, always half the year in the north of Ireland, her father a counsellor-at-law, with an estate of £1000 a year, and above £10,000 in ready money; her mother a sensible, well-bred woman ; she the dar- ling of her parents, and no other child but her sister. She is cousin to some cousins of mine in this county. I was at their house while she and her father and mother and aunt were over upon a visit just last week. The counsellor is as worthy a gentleman as ever I saw. Your friend was a favourite with all of them. From morning to night I admired the charm- ing Mary Anne. Upon my honour, I never was so * " La helle B-lmidaise" is here called Mary Anne. The name of the lady who ultmiately became Mrs. Boswell was Margaret. She belonged to the family of the Montgomeries of Lainshawe. Mi's. BosweU certainly had Irish connections ; but, although she an- swers in some respects to the description here given of la helle Irlandaise, the two cannot safely be identitied. I, A BELLE IRLANDAISE. 155 much in love; I never was before in a situation to which there was not some objection, but here every foioer is united, and not a thorn to be found. But how shall I manage it? they were in a hurry, and are gone home to Ireland. They were sorry they could not come to see Auchinleck, of which they had heard a great deal. Mary Anne wished much to be in the grotto. It is a pity they did not come ; this princely seat would have had some effect. I received the kindest invitation to come and see them in Ire- land, and I promised to be there in March. In the meantime both the father and the aunt write to me. What a fortunate fellow am I ! what a variety of ad- ventures in all countries ! I was allowed to walk a great deal with Miss ; I repeated my fervent pas- sion to her again and again ; she was pleased, and I could swear that her little heart beat. I carved the first letter of her name on a tree ; I cut off a lock of her hair, male jjertinax. She promised not to forget me, nor to marry a lord before March. Her aunt said to me, " Mr. Boswell, I tell you seriously there will be no fear of this succeeding but from your own in- constancy ; stay till March." All the Scotch cousins too think I may be the happy man. Ah, my friend, I am now as I ought to be ; no reserved, prudent conduct, as with Miss B. No ! all youthful, warm, natural ; in short, all genuine love. Pray tell me what you think. I have great confidence in your judgment. I mean not to ask what you think of my angelic girl ; 1 am fixed beyond a possibility of doubt as to her. 156 LETTERS OF BOS WELL, Believe me, she is like a very part of my soul. But will not the fond parents insist on having quality for their daughter, who is to have so large a fortune? or do you think that the Baron of Auchinleck is great enough ? Both father, mother, and aunt assured me of my high character in Ireland, where my book is printed the third edition : that is no bad circumstance. I shall see in what style the counsellor writes, and shall send some elegant presents to my lovely mistress. This is the most agreeable passion I ever felt ; six- teen, innocence, and gaiety, make me quite a Sicilian swain. Before I left London I made a vow in St. Paul's Church, that I would not allow myself in licen- tious connections of any kind for six months. I am hitherto firm to my vow, and already feel myself a superior being. I have given up my criminal inter- course with ]\Irs. ; in short, Maria has me with- out any rival. I do hope the period of my perfect felicity, as far as this state can afford, is now in view. The affairs of the brave Corsicans interest me ex- ceedingly. Is it not shocking in France to send a great armament against such a noble little people? I have had four letters from the General this summer; he and his countrymen are resolved to stand to the last. I have hopes that our Government will inter- fere. In the meantime, by a private subscription in Scotland, I am sending this week £700 worth of ord- nance. The Carron Company has furnished me them very cheap; there are two 32-pounders, four 24's, four 18's, and twenty 9-pounders, witli one hundred and CONFLICT OF AFFECTIONS. 157 fifty ball to each. It is really a tolerable train of artil- lery. My brother David was so lucky as, just at the con- clusion of his apprenticeship, to be assumed partner in a house at Valencia, in Spain. Honorius Dalliol, a frenchman, Mr. Charles Herries, a Scotchman, and David, are the partners. He has been there some months ; he is delighted with the country, and writes me admirable letters ; he is still agitated with gene- rous ideas of perfection, as you and I used to be. He is miserable if he does not make that figure in com- pany which he wishes to do ; and he begs that I would inform him, from you, how it is that you can sit quite serene, placid, and happy, in a company where perhaps you have hardly opened your mouth. Pray humour him thus far. And now, my dear friend, I trust that you will for- give my long silence, and will be assured that I ever am, with the warmest regard. Your affectionate and faithful James Boswell. The conflict in Boswell's mind between his various loves is here very amusingly told. The flame for Miss Blair and his passion for " sweet Mary Anne " are in ridiculous contrast, but the latter seems to have the advantage ; at least he says eventually that he re- mains quite constant to her. Still he does not quite 158 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. know what to do, though sure that he is himself the " candid, generous Boswell." As might be expected, Boswell's attempts to hve Hke the friend of Paoh, setting up chariots, etc., ends by his being " a good deal in debt." He also falls into dissipation again, and has various other difficulties to encounter, the result of his us:::.! want of self-control. 41.] Edinburgh, Wi December, 1768. My dear Temple, I delay not a post to tell you that I have received your letter of the 27th ]S'ovember, and that I sincerely sympathize with the gloomy feelings which at present seem to distress you. Your long silence rc-al^y made me uneasy. I did not know what to think, and I was just going to have written to Mrs. Temple, or to Lord Lisburne, to inquire if my best friend was alive. I thank God I have you still ; for indeed, my dear Tem- ple, I cannot be without you. I trust that before this reaches you the clouds Avill be dispelled. Believe me, your imagination has sug- gested false terrors. Read Epictetus ; read Johnson. Let a manly and firm philosophy brace your mind, and you will be convinced that, although you deserve a better situation, you have no reason to be dejected. After all your misfortunes, I believe you have £200 of "your own, which, with Mrs. Temple's £1300, is no inconsiderable fund. Your living is, I believe, £80 a year, which, with what you have clear after paying your father's annuity, may enable you to live very com- EVILS 0¥ AMBITION. 159 fortably. Be not too anxious on account of your chil- dren ; educate them with good principles and active habits, and they will make their way through life. I wish you joy of your son, and I most heartily accept the office of being its godfather. I give you my so- lenni promise that I shall be in earnest to do my duty ; and, if my best friend shall leave the world before me, it may be a comfort to him to think that I am left some time longer to take care of his children. If taking a journey to Devonshire could be of any essen- tial service to you, I should willingly come ; but in this case a proxy will do. Mr. Hume is not to go to Paris : he is busy with the continuation of his History. You admire our Scot- tish authors too much ; but you know, my worthy friend, we differ just enough to enliven us, and afford some exercise of our talents. I cannot approve of your wishing to leave your fa- mily : it was a sudden wish while your mind was un- hinged. Do not allow yourself to suppose that Lord L. will do nothing more for you : he is your relation ; keep well with him, and things may come about. Let me beseech you, Temple, not to fix your desires on external greatness. Recollect how you and I flattered j ourselves that we were to be the greatest men of our , time. i " Eectius vives, Licini, neque altuin Semper urgeudo." Do you know that in reality your uneasiness is owing I to your allowing yourself to think too much of those ICO LETTERS OF BOSWELL. who liave superior degrees of the favours of fortune. Pardon me, my friend, if I write thus ; I am sure I mean it well. I should like much to have you settled in the English chapel here, but I believe the income is less than at your present residence. I shall however consider of it, and inquire as to particulars, and when there will be an opening. Keep up yom* spirits, and pray let me know exactly the state of your affairs. Be assured that my friendship for you is unchangeable. And now as to myself. What think you, my friend ? Miss Blair is j\Iiss Blair still ! Her marriage with the Knight is not to be. I understand that when terms came to be considered, neither answered the expecta- tions which they had formed of each other's circum- stances, and so the match was broken ofiF. After the departure of my " belle Irlandaise," I was two or three times at Adamtown, and, upon my word, the old flame was kindled. The wary mother, as you called her, told me that it was my own fault that her daughter was not long ago my wife ; but that after the young lady had shown me very particular marks of regard, corresponded with me, etc., I had made such a joke of my love for the heiress in every company,* that she was piqued, and did not believe that I had any serious intentions ; that in the meantime the Knight oflFered, and what could she do ? Temple, to a man agam in love, this was engaging. I walked whole hours with the Princess ; I kneeled ; I became truly amorous, but * A heavy charge against Mr. Boswell, which nevertheless, as has been seen, was probably too tnie. DIFFICULTIES IN LOVE. 101 she told me tliat " really she had a very great regard for me, but did not like me so as to marry me." You never saw such a coldness ; yet the Nabob told me, upon his honour and salvation, that he had it from one wlio had it from Miss B.'s own mouth last year, that she was truly in love with me, and reckoned upon having me for her husband. My relapse ' into this fever lasted some weeks. I wrote to her, as usual, the most passionate letters. I said, " I shall not again have the galling reflection that my misery is owing to my own fault." Only think of this. Temple ! She might have had me, but, luckily for me, she still af- fected the same coldness, and not a line would she write. Then came a kind letter from my amiable aunt Boyd in Ireland, and all the charms of sweet Mary Anne revived. Since that time I have been quite constant to her, and as indifferent towards Kate as if I never had thought of her. She is still in the country. Should I write to her, and tell her I am cured, as she wished ? or is there more dignity in just letting the affair sleep ? After her behaviour, do I, the candid, generous Boswell, owe her anything ? Am I anyhow bound by passionate exclamations to which she did not even answer? Write to me, my dear friend. She will be here soon ; I am quite easy with her. What should I do ? By all that's enchanting, I go to Ireland in March. What should I say to Kate ? You see I am still the old man : I have still need of your advice : write me without delay. I shall soon give you a more general c})istle. M 162 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. Adieu, my dearest friend ! My kind compliments to Mrs. Temple. Ever yours, James Boswell. P.S. — I am just now a good deal in debt. If you want any. credit from me, let me know some weeks before. Excuse this. Whatever I can do, you may always depend on. Postscrijyt. My dear Temple, You are by this time well acquainted with my pre- sent situation ; many a different one have you known me in. You must comfort me, for by the time I can have your answer my spirits will be very low. My present misfortune is occasioned by drinking. Since my retm'n to Scotland I have fallen a great deal too much into that habit, which still prevails in Scotland. Perhaps the coldness of the Scots requires it, but my fiery blood is turned to madness by it. This will be a warning to me, and from henceforth I shall be a perfect man ; at least I hope so. Adieu, my friend ! let us correspond once a fortnight. Write me fully. Tell me sincerely, am I right to insist that my dear little woman shall stay ? She was married very young, but she has three children : I hate to think of it. No matter ; she is like a girl of eighteen ; she has the finest black hair. Is it not right I should have a fa- vourite to keep me happy ? but alas ! I love her so much that I am in a kind of fever. This is unworthy BOSWELL MARRIES. 163 of Paolis friend. Lord Eglinton once observed, very justly, that " a man may be in love with an Italian woman of gallantry, because, by the custom of the country, she does not think she is doing wrong, so may be called virtuous ;" but I cannot apply it to my angel. Adieu encore. The following letters are from the married Boswell, the question of selecting a wife having been at last solved, as has been mentioned at the beginning of the Chapter, in favour of Miss Montgomerie. We cannot help recollecting a sage reflection offered, in the ' Life of Johnson,' by Boswell upon this subject : " In a man whom religious education has secured from licentious indulgence, the passion of love, when once it has seized him, is exceedingly strong, being unimpaired by dissi- pation, and totally concentrated in one object." The "man" here alluded to does not answer the description of Boswell ; but what was the effect of matrimony upon him will appear in the subsequent pages. 42.] Edbibm-gh, Hit May, 1770. My dear Friend, Your letter, dated April 26th, has given me both pleasure and pain : pleasure to hear from you ; and pain to think, or at least doubt, that you have not received a long letter, which T wrote to you the 3rd M 2 1G4 LETTERS or BOSWELL. of April, containing a full account of Mr. Hume's opinion as to the study of modern history, and also, as I flattered myself, a satisfactory answer to your strange scheme of changing your profession. My letter was directed to Lord Lisburne, Mamhead, near Chudleigh, Devon. I would fain hope that my letter has before now come to your hands ; but lest it should not, I now sit down to recollect, as well as I can, what Mr, Hume said as to the study of modern history. He seemed to be of opinion that no fixed, exact system need be observed. You must, he said, " read the best modern history. I woidd begin with Eng- land, and (here he smiled) read Mrs. Macaulay. (You may guess what History of England he really thinks the best.) You may then read the history of France. I am told the new history by Velly and Villaret is the best, better than Pere Dariee." He then said I might read the histories of the Low Countries, by Bentivoglio, and those of the other parts of Europe in what order I chose, as Machiavel, Father Paul, Guic- ciardini, etc. I would fain hope my letter has reached you ; if it has not, you have here the substance of what Mr. Hume said. I told you a great deal more of him, which I shall tell you on being assured my letter has miscarried. I will not now repeat what I said against your changing youi- profession ; that may keep cold. I shall do it also, when I hear that my letter has not arrived. It really hurts me much, my worthy friend, to see the nemo quam sibi sortem sen ratio dederit, seu DEFINITION OF HISTORY. 165 sors objecerit, ilia contentm vivat, so strongly exem- plified in you. Well do I know that I have the seeds of the same discontent, but I strive to bury them ; do you the same. I am sure I am right, but of this more hereafter. I rejoice to hear that yom^ bro- ther has been so lucky, I shall be disappointed if I do not see you here this summer or autumn ; but your objections till Jidy is over are, I confess, unan- swerable. I believe August will be the same sort of season in my family. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and kind wishes for my godson. Pray write as soon as you receive this. I am, my dear Temple, ever yours, James Boswell. 44.] Edinburgh, \Wi, June, 1770. My dear Temple, A long letter which I lately wrote to you has, I hope, come safe to hand. I told you in it that the Rev. Mr. Henry was soon to publish the preface to his History as a prospectus or plan of the work. I got it yesterday, and now send it you, as you are at present so much in the historical humour, and will relish anything of that kind as much as a fine lady a new fashion in dress. I shall be glad to know what you think of Mr. Henry's plan ; it is certainly very laborious, and the work promises to be very substan- tial. The first advantage, which I have marked on ])ag(! 5, really puts history in a new light. Do you IGG LETTERS OF BOS WELL. know any good definition of history ? The idea which I have been accustomed to entertain of it is, an ac- count of the pohtical and military transactions of a nation or nations, containing the characters of the principal persons who have contributed to the several operations, interspersed with various reflections. ]\Iy meaning is clumsily expressed, but you see it. Mr. Henry argues strongly for his extensive plan ; but will it not be too much like the 'Dictionary of Arts and Sciences' in an historical form ? Mr. Hume, when I spoke to him of it, before I saw" the plan, seemed to think it would be much of the nature of a book published a few years ago, Anderson's ' History of Connuerce.' The language of this history will not, as far as I think, be so flowing and elegant as that of some writers to whom our taste is habituated ; but it seems to be distinct, and sufficiently expressive. I throw" out these hasty observations to you, as my in- timate friend. I am to consider the plan at leisure, and give Mr. Henry my opinion. After all it may be a valuable work, and, if well executed, not only may the entire book find a place in libraries, but each branch may be separately published for the use of diSerent classes of readers. I met him today, and told him I was to send him one of his plans. My father is come to town, and never looked better in his life. Honest man ! he really is, I believe, veiy fond of me ; and we are at present on very good terms. I behave with prudence towards the person who has occasioned so much uneasiness. I do not as DEATH OF INFANT. 167 yet see any appearances of her multiplying. My wife joins me in best compliments to you and Mrs. Temple. My love to my little godson. Your sincerely affectionate friend, James Boswell. 44.] Edinburgh, \st September, 1770. My dear Temple, After about eight-and-forty hours' illness and real danger, my wife was, on Tuesday last, safely delivered of a son ; but the poor child had suffered so much that he did not live above two hours. Thank God, my wife is in a very good way. I received yours from Gainslaw this afternoon. I am glad you are so near me : you may imagine my feelings. Pray write to me : I have much need of your comfort. If you can, stay with me ten days ; come immediately, if you can only give me a day or two. I would wish my wife were able to see you. Most sincerely and affectionately yours, James Boswell. 45.] FMnlmrgh, Uli September, 1770. My dear Friend, Yours of the 4th instant came to my hands yester- day. The consolation of hearing from you, and the prospect of seeing you soon, do me more good than your philosophical considerations on the death of my 168 LETTERS or BOSWELL. child. I grant you that there is no reason for our having an affection for an infant, which, as it is not properly a rational being, can have no qualities to en- gage us ; yet nature has given us such an instinctive fondness, that being deprived of an infant gives us real distress. I have experienced this, and there is no arguing against it. It may be accounted for, even reasonably, to a certain degree, because every parent annexes to the child a number of most agrecEible hopes; and therefore when he is bereft of his child he is de- prived of all those hopes. This, to a man of a warm imagination, is no small loss. I was this forenoon paying a visit to John Dairy m pie. He told me that Fergusson (Civil Society) used to maintain, that till a child was four years old it was no better than a cab- bage. However, Fergusson married and had a child, which died soon after it was born : the firm philoso- pher was changed into the parent, and he was in very great grief, — greater, said Dalrymple, than he would perhaps have been had his child died at the age of one- and-twenty, as his idea of what the child might have been was higher than in all probability the reality would have been. John Dalrymple is a very knowing, lively companion ; you shall have him with us at my house. He tells him there is a ' History of the Barbar- ous Conquest of Mexico,' written by one of the Princes of India who lived at the time. It is an authentic book, and is translated into French. He says he can- not undertake to read it himself, but he is very desi- rous to know what is in it. I have undertaken to read CLASSICAL SOCIALITY. 169 it, and I shall do it with great pleasure. If the Indian Prince writes of the horrible transactions of the Spa- niards in his country, as I imagine he must do, his History will be very striking. It will be like Michael , Angelo's picture of the Day of Judgment. Mr. Hume is just now at Sir Gilbert Elliot's country-seat ; he will be here again in ten days. My wife recovers as well as I could possibly expect. Send your portmanteau on Monday, directed for me, at my house in Chessels's Buildings, Canongate, and ride you over whenever you please. Give me all the time you can. My wife will be in her drawing-room next week, if it pleases God to continue to favour her. My dear friend, how happy will it make me to have you under my roof, and enjoy with you some invaluable hours of elegant friendship and classical sociality ! Let me hear from you frequently. Your affectionate friend, James Boswell. Our two correspondents therefore had at last the opportunity of enjoying " some invaluable hours of elegant friendship and classical sociality ;" perhaps somewhat the less social and the more elegant in that J\Ir. Temple seems to have been, unlike Mr. Boswell, given to great temperance. The subject of Boswell's wife is, in the next letter, touched upon in a very characteristic fashion. 170 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. 46.] Edinhurgh, Uh October, 1770. My clear Temple, You have reason to blame me for not answering your last kind letter ere now. The truth is, my uncle. Commissioner Cochrane, has been very ill ; he lives about six miles out of town, and I have been frequently with him : he is better, and, I hope, quite out of danger. I rejoice that you got so w^ell to Gainslaw. I was afraid you might find the journey very fatiguing, but you water-drinkers are Herculean felloW'S. I believe it would be better for me, w^ere I to adopt your sys- tem ; but this only en passant ; it is a bill which would meet with a good deal of opposition in my lower house. How agreeable is it to me to find that my old and most intimate friend was so happy in my house ! We must really contrive it so as to pass a good part of our time together. I never will rest till you have a Living in the north ; I hope, in Northumberland or Cumber- land. You cannot say too much to me of my wife. How dare you quote to me sua si bona norint ! I am fully sensible of my happiness in being married to so ex- cellent a woman, so sensible a mistress of a family, so agreeable a companion, so affectionate and peculiarly proper helpmate for me. I own I am not so much on my guard against fits of passion or gloom as I ought to be, but that is really owing to her great goodness. There is something childish in it, I confess : I ought not to indulge in such fits ; it is like a child that lets itself fall purposely, to have the pleasure of being ten- RESIDENCE IN EDINBURGH. 171 derly raised up again by those who are fond of it. I shall endeavour to be better. Upon the whole, I do believe I make her very happy. God bless and pre- serve her ! Honest Jolmston is very ill, and desires to be kindly remembered to you ; he is very often with me ; I always find him a Avorthy, sensible friend. My wife and I intend to set out on Monday for Ayrshire : we shall be part of our time with her sisters, and part at Auchinleck. You may just direct for me at Edinburgh; the post-office people forward my letters to me wher- ever I am. I wish to know how you are settling your affairs. Write me particularly, and you shall have my father's advice. I hope Mrs. Temple and your young family continue well. My wife joins me in best com- pliments. Your most affectionate friend, James Boswell. The following fragment of a letter is without a date, but was evidently written about August, 1772. My brother John took a ride this summer as far as the Land's End ; he was at Clmdleigh, no less. But so strange a man is ho, that, upon hearing that it was a cross-road to Mamhead, or some such small difficulty, he did not j)ay you a visit, though he knew that 1 wished it nuich, and 1 believe wished it himself; for 172 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. he has a good deal of kindness under that cmious ap- pearance of his. He disagreed with my father's lady, and so is gone back to Newcastle with Dr. Wilson, physician there. David is a fine fellow, but I am afraid will become so much a foreigner that we shall find it difficult to get him home. In the late multi- tude of bankruptcies, a gentleman in London, with whom my father was anxious to have David admitted a partner, failed ; and as it is so uncertain who are in good circumstances, who in bad, my father is, at pre- sent, very well satisfied that David should continue in Spain. I had some hopes that Mr. Samuel Johnson would have visited Scotland, and made a tour through pai't of the Highlands and isles with me this autumn, but I had a letter from him, some posts ago, telling me that he could not come this year ; but he says, " I am very sincere in my intention to pay the visit and take the ramble." I hope you hear frequently from worthy Claxton ; when I was last in London, I formecf a much higher opinion of him than formerly : I hope we " three shall meet again " comfortably. I write by this post to Lord Lisburne to thank him for his polite letter. Worthy Johnston has just left me (now the 24th). My wife and he join me in best compliments to you and Mrs. Temple. I ever am, my dear Temple, with unalterable affection and regard, yours, James Boswell. VISIT TO THE HIGHLANDS. 173 It has been observed, that Boswell's marriage and residence in Edinburgh caused a suspension of his in- dustry, even in the pursuit of his correspondence with Dr. Johnson.* However in 1 772, when he reappeared in London, he recommenced collecting material for the magnum opus, and the next year had the inexpres- sible joy of accompanying his revered friend on his visit to the Hebrides, the Journal of which, incorpo- rated by Mr. Croker into the Biography, forms perhaps one of its most interesting portions. * See 'Life of Jolinson,' anno 1770 (chap, xxiv., Croker's edit.). 174 CHAPTER VII. 1774-1775. LETTER TO MRS. TEMPLE. — ADVICE TO HER AS A WIFE. — BOSWELL's JOURNEY TO LONDON. SUPERSTITION AND FEUDALISM. LORD LISBURNE. INCONVENIENCE TO A CHAPLAIN IN BREAK- FASTING. SUCCESS IN MAKING ACQUAINTANCE. THE AMERI- CAN QUESTION. — TALKING FROM BOOKS. — LANGTON GARRICK. temple's ESSAY ON THE CLERGY. — BOSWELL's HOPE OF PLACE. — LORD PEMBROKE. — A SPECULATION ON THE PATRI- ARCHS. BOSWELL's MORAL FENCES. — TEMPLE's CHARACTER OF GRAY ADOPTED BY MASON. LONDON MAGAZINE. BOS- WELL IN ELECTION CASE. DINNERS AND PLEASURES IN TOWN. — RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE. HERMES HARRIS. At this period we find Boswell diflfering from his fa- ther as to the wisdom of coming to London ; but the son has his way, and, fortunately for the readers of the ' Life of Johnson,' takes up his abode in the Me- tropolis. He now rushes about in violent bustle : he himself confesses that his exuberant spirits prevent his listening ; but he sees a variety of men and manners, and is happy. Still one cannot help wishing, for some reasons, and especially on his own account, that Mrs. Boswell had accompanied him on this visit. The reader will find Boswell presently breaking out into a generous rapture, because a chance extract from temple's character of gray. 175 one of Temple's letters to him, which he communicated anonymously to the ' London Magazine,' has been used by Mason in his ' Life of Gray.' It was subsequently also borrowed by Dr. Johnson. The passage in ques- tion appeared in Vol. 41 of the Magazine (March, 1772), and the editor (or Boswell) introduces the cri- ticism as written " by a gentleman of Cambridge, of much learning, who knew him (Gray) well." Mr. Mason thus prefaces its insertion in the Memoirs* : — " I might," says he, " here lay down my pen ; yet if any reader should still want his character, I will give him one which was published very soon after Mr. Gray's decease. It appears to be well written ; and as it came from an anonymous pen, I choose the rather to insert it, as it will on that account be less sus- pected of partiality." Although Dr. Johnson thought Temple's remarks worthy of a place in his biography, yet he does not admit them in a very cordial manner. Having quoted them, he says, " His character I am willing to adopt, as Mr. Mason has done, from a letter written to my friend Mr. Boswell by the Rev. Mr, Temple, rector of St. Gluvias, in Cornwall ; I am as willing as his warmest well-wisher to believe it true." Thus Mr. Temple's casual criticism, unknown to him- self, was presented to the public in two authentic works. It runs thus : — " Perhaps he was the most learned man in Europe. He was equally acquainted with the elegant and profound parts of science, and * Edit. 1775, p. 401. In the superb edition by Mr. Mathias (1814) Mr. Temple's name is affixed to this passage. 170 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. ] that not superficially, but thoroiighly. He knew every brancli of history, both natural and civil ; had read all the original historians of England, France, and Italy, and was a great antiquarian ; criticism, meta- physics, moral politics, made a principal pail of his study ; voyages and travels of all sorts were his favourite amusements ; and he had a fine taste in r painting fruits, architecture, and gilding. With such a fund of knowledge his conversation must have been j equally instructing and entertaining ; but he was also a good man, a man of virtue and humanity. There is no character without some speck, some imperfec- tion ; and I think the greatest defect in his was an affectation in delicacy, or rather effeminacy, and a visible fastidiousness or contempt and disdain of his inferiors in science. He also had in some degree that weakness which disgusted Voltaire so much in Mr. Congreve; though he seemed to value others chiefly according to the progress they had made in knowledge, yet he could not bear to be considered himself merely a man of letters ; and, though with- out birth or fortune or station, his desire was to be looked upon as an honest independent gentleman, who read for amusement. Perhaps it may be said, what signifies so much knowledge when it produced so little ? Is it worth taking so much pains to leave no memorial but a few Poems ? But let it be considered that Mr. Gray was to others at least pleasantly em- ployed ; to himself certainly beneficially. His time passed agreeably ; he was every day making some new temple's character of gray. 177 acquaintance in science ; his mind was enlarged, his heart softened, his virtue strengthened ; the workl and mankind were shown to him without a mask, and he was taught to consider everything as trifling and un- worthy of the attention of a wise man, except the pursuit of knowledge and practice of virtue in that state wherein God hath placed us." The following letter is to Mrs. Temple. Boswell seems here to imitate, as he occasionally does also elsewhere, the Johnsonian tone and style of address. 75.] Edinbuj'gh, Zlst December, 1774. Dear Madam, I return you my thanks for yom* kind letter, and be assured that it gives me sincere comfort and satis- faction to think that my dearest friend has such a wife as you. I need not tell you how anxiously I wish for his happiness ; and it is no small circum- stance that he has a partner for life who loves him as much as you do, and who has qualities which I should mention fully did I not fear to be suspected of paying compliments, while I am only expressing the feelings of my heart. I heartily wish you joy of another son, and am much obliged to you for your good wishes that I may have one soon. I shall please myself with the hopes of that acquisition ; and if I am not so happy, I shall endeavour to be content. You never saw two finer children than my two little daughters. My wife joins me in best compliments to you, 178 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. tliougli you did not favour us with your company when Mr. Temple was last in Scotland. I hope to have the pleasure of being a few days with you at Mamhead next spring. Take good care of my old and most intimate friend, and be always good-humoured w^hen he complains. I am, dear Madam, Your affectionate humble servant, James Boswell. 48.] Edinburgh, 2>rd January, 1775. My dearest Friend, The enclosed to Mrs. Temple should have been sent last night, but was omitted in the hurry I was in to catch the post. I was lately troubled a good deal, as formerly, about human liberty and God's prescience.* I had recourse to the great Montesquieu, in one of his ' Lettres Per- sanes,' and had the subject made clear to me, as I once had by that letter when I was at Mamhead, I forget whether by chance or by your directing me to it. Are you ever distm'bed with abstract doubts ? Adieu ! ever yours, J. B. * TMs question is discussed in the ' Life of Johnson' (April 15, 1778) by the Doctor and Boswell and Dr. Mayo. Johnson sums it up thus : "All theory is against the freedom of the will, — all ex- perience for it." DR. Johnson's journey to Scotland. 179 49.] Grantham., I8th March, 1775. My dear Temple, Your letter of the 1st February was really a feast to me. You and I cannot flatter each other. We may then freely communicate our agreeable sentiments. You have read Mr. Johnson's 'Journey' with judg- ment and taste, and your remarks are all well said, — some of them just, even in my opinion, and none but what most people will approve. The second sight and the tacksmen are to me valuable. The first pleases my superstition, which you know is not small, and being not of the gloomy, but the grand species, is an enjoy- ment ; and I go further than Mr. Johnson, for the facts which I heard convinced me. The latter pleases my old feudal spirit. You are clearly right in your criticism on his using the word elegance, when he speaks of Hebridian entertainment. I must tell him too that when he says Scotch is seldom heard in splen- did companies, he gives a word too great, for I hardly ever saw a splendid company at Edinburgh. I am pleased with Lord Lisburne, that he should fancy my remarks : I have them written out, and you shall see them. I never had a letter from his Lordship but one, long ago, which I answered. I shall pay my respects to him at the Admiralty. I am now so far on my way to London in the fly. It is Saturday night, and we repose here all Sunday. I have an acquaintance in Grantham, the Rev. Mr. Palmer, who was chaplain to the late Speaker : he is a worthy, learned, social man. I sent him a card that n 2 180 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. 1 would breakfast with him tomorrow, if not incon- venient for him : his answer is just come, wdiich you shall hear : — As breakfasting will be attended with some inconveniences in the present state of his family, he will be very glad of the favour of his company to a family dinner tomorrow at two o'clock. What can be the meaning of this ? How can hrealxfastlng he inconvenient to a family that dines ? Can he w^ish to lie long in the morning, that Queen Mab may be with him, "tickling the parson as he lies asleep?" or can his wdfe and daughter not dress early enough ? Pray guess in your next, wdth a sacerdotal sagacity, what this can be. I shall try to learn, and let you know. It is now early in the morning. I am writing in a great English parlour, to have my letter ready for the post at nine ; it is comfortable to have such an acquaintance as Palmer, so situated. I have thought of making a good acquaintance in each town on the road. No man has been more successful in making acquaintance easily than I have been : I even bring, people quickly on to a degree of cordiality. I am a quick fire, but I know not if I last sufficiently, though surely, my dear Temple, there is always a warm place for you. With many people I have compared myself to a taper, which can light up a great and lasting tire though itself is soon extinguished. I called on ]\lrs. Collingw^ood at Morpeth: you have seen how I am received in that house : she desired to be kindly re- membered to you and Mrs. Temple. As to American affairs, I have really not studied TALKING FROM BOOKS. 181 the subject : it is too much for me perhaps, or I am too indolent or frivolous. Erom the smattering which newspapers have given me, I have been of different minds several times. That I am a Tory, a lover of power in monarchy, and a discourager of much liberty in the people, I avow ; but it is not clear to me that our colonies are completely our subjects. I am puz- zled with the charters. At any rate the measures of Administration appear to have been ill-digested and violent. I should hope that things may now take a good turn. I can figure Britain and the colonies in a most agreeable state, like a father and a son who are both sensible and spirited men, who can make mutual allowances, and who, having a kindness for each other, study to promote a common interest. But selfishness and narrowness of comprehension destroy men and nations. I began * Histoire Philosophique et Poli- tique' before I left Edinburgh : it is eloquent indeed. I promise to read it in London, and we shall talk of it at Mamhead. Mr. Johnson, when enumerating our Club, observed of some of us, that they talked from books, — Langton in particular. Garrick, he said, would talk from books, if he talked seriously. " /," said he, " do not talk from books ; you do not talk from books." This was a compliment to my origi- nality : but I am afraid I have not read books enough to be able to talk from thorn. You are very kind in saying that I may overtake you in learning. Believe me though, that I have a kind of impotency of study : however, nil dmpcnindmn est. 1 have not yet fixed 182 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. when I shall be with you ; I would make it as late as I can, that the weather may be fine. I need not be at Ediubm'gh till the 20th May. Might I not see Bath and Bristol in coming to see you ? How would it do to get Claxton or Nicholls to come with me? But we will be better alone, as we can pour out all ourselves, as plain as downright Skipper or as old Montaigne. You rejoice me by the information that the Bishops of Exeter and Derry have given you such promises. I hope the former shall make good his, for I would rather keep you in England. The second good living that falls can be at no great distance of time. It pleases me that your Essay* has been the occasion of the Bishop's friendship. You are right in resolving to undertake something more extensive : I am sm*e you have learning and good sense and an elegant style : let me know what you think of writing. Eor my own part, I have continual schemes of publication, but can- not fix. I am still very unhappy with my father. We are so totally difl'erent that a good understanding is scarcely possible. He looks on my going to London just now as an expedition, as idle and extravagant, when in reality it is highly improving to me, consider- ing the company which I enjoy ; and I think it is also for my interest, as in time I may get something. Lord Pembroke was very obliging to me when he was iu Scotland, and has corresponded with me since. I have hopes from him. How happy should I be to get an * ' An Essay on the Clergy, their Studies, Recreations,' etc. London, 177-1:. PATRIARCHAL EXAMPLES. 183 independency by my own influence while my father is alive ! I am in charming health and spirits. There is a handsome maid at this inn, who interrupts me by coming sometimes into the room. I have no confes- sion to make, my priest ; so be not curious. ***** Dr. Young says, — " A fever argues better than a Clarke." It is as fair reasoning for me to say that this handsome maid (Matty is her name) argues better than — whom you please. But remember, I am only speculating. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and kind wishes to your young ones. Write to me at Messrs. Dilly's. Let us keep up a close fire, now that I am free from business. I am ever, my dear friend, Most faithfully yours, James Boswell. 50.] Loinloii, Uh Jpril, 1775. My dear Temple, My last was indeed a characteristical letter : I was quite in my old humour. My mind, formerly a wild, has been for some years pretty well enclosed with moral fences ; but I fear the fences are stone hedges (to use a strange expression of Mr. Johnson in his Journey) of a loose construction, for a storm of pas- sion would blow them down ; when at Grantham, there 184 LETTERS O BOSWELL. was a pretty brisk gale, which shook them, but now Reason, that steady builcler and overseer, has set them firm ; or they have proved to be better than I thought them, for my enclosm'es are in as good order as ever. I thank yon however for your friendly props ; your kind counsels pleased me much. Franklin has written upon stilling the waves of the ocean by oil, as I see you would quiet the tm'bulent Americans by lenient measures. Your soft admonitions would at any time calm the tempests of my soul. I told you that my arguments for concubinage were only for theory ; the patriarchs might have a plurality, because they were not taught that it was wrong ; but I, who have always been taught that it is wrong, cannot have the same enjoyment with- out an impression of its being so, and consequently without [my moral sense suffering]. But is not this prejudice ? Be it so. I think I told you in my last that I am proud of having such a friend, Avhen I read your elegant letter upon Mr. Johnson's Journey, and other subjects : I am prouder today. Mr. Mason concludes his ' Life of Gray' with a character of him, which he says is well written, and which he says he has taken from the ' London Magazine.' He mentions it as by an anonymous writer. What is it, think you, but a character of Gray ^vritten by you to me in a letter soon after his death, and which I greatly admired, and copied out for the Magazine, of Avhich I am a proprietor ? It appears to great advantage as the [)croration of Mason's ' Life of mason's life of gray. 185 Gray,' and Mason has written several notes upon it. If you are not to have the book sent down to you by Lord Lisburne immediately, I will have the character and notes reprinted in a newspaper, and send you a copy. Mr. Mason must be informed who it is that wrote a character which he has thought worthy of so much distinction. When you and I sat up all night at Cambridge and read Gray with a noble enthusiasm ; when we first used to read Mason's ' Elfrida,' and when we talked of that elegant knot of worthies, Gray, Mason, and Walpole, etc., how would (or should) we have been elated to know that a character drawn by you should be placed, by the hands of Mason, upon the top of Gray's pyramid as a suitable apex ! You must write ; you must publish ; you must have fame ; your letters are admirable. Were you as rich as Pliny, had you his fine seat,* your epistles would be as good ; for, like all other men of sensibility, your writings are coloured by your circumstances. I was not long in town without calling on Claxton ; he is the most unchangeable man that I almost ever knew ; this year however two considerable varieties have occurred ; he has resumed his own hair, and has ascended to the second story of No. 21. I had last night an unexpected call to be at the Bar of the House of Commons this day for Captain Erskiiic, l)rother to Miss Floyer's husband, as counsel for him in tlie Clackmannan election, where he is [)etition(')' : 1 had neither wig nor gown with me. I posted to * JSic m orig. 186 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. Claxton's early this morning, and lie has kindly lent me both : I know not but in equity he ought to have a share of the guineas which they bring. He tells me you are about some Church History : let it be concise and philosophical ; I should think it will have success. I have not yet seen Lord Lisburne ; I shall call on him soon, and hope to get acquainted with him. You have drawn me at whole length in your last ; you have analyzed me too. I am indeed as happy as you could wish. Today I dine at Su* John Pringle's ; tomorrow at Dilly's, with Mr. Johnson and Langton, etc. ; Thurs- day, at Tom Davies's, with Mr. Johnson, and some others ; Friday, at the Turk's Head, Gerrard Street, with our Club, Sir Joshua Reynolds, etc., who now dine once a month, and sup every Friday. My forenoons are spent in visiting, and you know the distances of London make that business enough. Mr. Johnson has allowed me to write out a supplement to his Jour- ney, but I wish I may be able to settle to it. This House of Commons work will be good ballast for me. I am httle in what is called the gaiety of London ; I went to Mrs. Abington's benefit to please Sir Joshua Reynolds. I have been at no other public place ex- cept exhibitions of pictures with Lord jMountstuart ; he is warmly my friend, and has engaged to do for me. His brother's lady, a sweet, handsome, lively little woman, is my wife's intimate friend : I pass many of my morning hours with her. Paoli and I (for his simple designation is the highest) are to be at Wilton sometime between the 10th and 26th of this month; RICHARD OWEN CAMBRIDGE. 187 I shall go from thence to your parsonage, and over- power you with vivacity, and return by Bath. My wife and children were well ; I heard from them a few days ago. Write often, under cover, to ^' Col. Archi- bald Campbell, M.P., London." Ever your&j J. B. 51.] London, llth April, 1775. My dear Temple, I am indeed enjoying this Metropolis to the full, according to my taste, except that I cannot, I see, have a plenary indulgence from you for Asiatic mul- tiplicity. Be not afraid of me, except when I take too much claret ; and then indeed there is a fitror brevis, as dangerous as anger. I intended to have set out for Wilton tomorrow ; but I am invited to a dinner on the banks of the Thames, at Richard Owen Cambridge's,* where are to be Reynolds, Johnson, and * Boswell, in acknowledging some useful communications im- parted to him by Mr. Cambridge, says of him, in laborious compli- ment, " If a beautiful villa on the bauks of the Thames, a few miles from London ; a numerous and excellent library, which he accurately knows and reads ; a choice collection of pictures, which he under- stands and relishes ; an easy fortune ; an amiable family ; an exten- sive circle of friends and acquaintances, distinguished by rank, fashion, and genius ; a hterary fame various, elegant, and still in- (rreasing ; colloquial tahnits, rarely to be found ; and with all those means of happiness enjoying, when well advanced in years, health and vigour of body, serenity and animation of mind, do not (jutitlc him to \w. addressed /or^««fl/e senex, I know not to whom in any age that expression could with propriety have l)(!eii us(hI." — Life of .lohnson, anno 1782. 188 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. Hermes Harris.* " ' Bo pu think so ?' said he. ' Most cedaiiily' said /." Do you remember how I used to laugh at his style when we were in the Temple ? He thinks Mmself an ancient Greek from these little pe- culiarities, as the imitators of Shakspeare, whom the ' Spectator' mentions, thought they had done wonder- fully when they had produced a line similar : — "And so good morrow to ye, good Master Lieutenant!" I have rather had too much dissipation since I came last to town. I try to keep a journal, and shall show you that I have done tolerably ; but it is hardly cre- dible what ground I go over, and what a variety of men and manners I contemplate in a day ; and all the time I myself ^m.pars magna, for my exuberant spiritsf * Spoken of generally in the ' Life of Jolinson' as IMr. Hams of Salisbury, or James Han'is, Esq., father of the first Earl of Salis- bury. Dr. Johnson, in reference to his work ' Hermes,' calls him a "coxcomb." — See 'Life of Johnson' (November 3, 1773), Avhere Boswell depreciates while he appears to defend Mr. Harris. In an- other passage (AprU 7th, 1770) Johnson is made to say, "Harris is a sound, sullen scholar ; he does not like interlopers. Hams however is a prig, and a bad prig." He seems however to have conversed "with Mr. Harris ':olerably complacently on several occa- sions ; but their friend Boswell has left, as in other cases, no very pleasant impression as to either the worth of j\Ir. Hanis or the charitableness of Dr. Johnson. f " I am for the most part either too high strmig or too low." February, 1777, (PhUobiblion, vol. ii.) In the same paper is another remark of BosweU's, which perhaps may not be misapplied here : — "A dull fool was nothing that he should show himself; the great thing is to have youi" fool well furnished ^vith animal spirits, and he will supply to you a rich fund of risibility." BosweU adds, that he gave expression to this wisdom "«< a certain Court in Germany.'' EXUBERANT SPIRITS. 189 will not let me listen enough. On Wednesday Ge- neral Paoli and I shall be at Wilton ; I should sup- pose we may stay there till Saturday. I shall take tlie fly at Salisbury, and so get to Exeter. Write to me at Wilton, by Salisbury, and I will let you know what day I can be at Exeter. I shall not have it in my power to be with you more than two or three days, as I must see Bath and be back here by the first of May ; but we shall see what is to be done when we meet. By all means let us dine with Lord Clifford. Lord Lisburne and I have never met yet. I hope to see him when I return, and then I shall get you what in- formation you want from Lord Stormont. I am just going to the Lord Mayor's grand dinner on Easter Monday, so must conclude. I have only to tell you, as my divine, that I yesterday received the holy sacra- ment in St. Paul's Church, and was exalted in piety. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple. Ever yours most aff'ectionately, J. B. ]1)0 CHAPTER VIII. 1775. DR. JOHNSON REPRESSES THE PUBLICATION OF THE ' TOUR TO THE HEBRIDES.' PREFERMENT FOR TEMPLE. MR. THBALE. BEAUCLERK's elegant villa, ETC. A DAY's WORK. DR. JOHNSON. TVILKES. — LORD BUTE's DAUGHTER-IN-LAW. MISS BOSVILLE. RETURN TO EDINBURGH. HARRY DUNDAS MADE king's advocate. DR. JOHNSON's INJUNCTION. CONJUGAL LOVE. CONTRAST BETWEEN EDINBURGH AND LONDON. — PAOLl's KINDNESS. — THE STATE AND DIGNITY OF A COACH. — PROFESSIONAL PRACTICE. ANECDOTE OF MR. HUME. COURTIERS AND COURTESANS. HUME ON PITT. — THE AME- RICAN WAR. BOSWELL's ambition FOB POLITICAL POWER. HUME ON DR. JOHNSON. — TEMPLE ON HUME. LETTER TO MASON. — DR. BLACK. — LORD AUCHINLECK ON JOHNSON. The egotism of one remark, which the reader will find in the following letter, that Dr. Johnson was " not apt to encourage one to share reputation with himself," is amusing enough, but, on the instance in question, probably true. The association of BosweU with Dr. Johnson, personal and literary, as we have abundant evidence, was not productive of unalloyed satisfaction to the latter. Boswell's plan of writing out his remarks for Temple to revise, especially if it means that the letters are to be fathered upon Tem- ple, is a curious proposition ; but Boswell was very THE TOUR TO THE HEBRIDES. 191 anxious to publish his Journal, while Dr. Johnson was content that his own work should not be inter- fered with. In the following letter some interesting conversations with Hume will be found recorded. Boswell was now, it seems, as diligent with Hume as he was at other times with Dr. Johnson. 52.] London, lOiJi May, 1775. My dear Temple, I had the pleasure to receive from you yesterday one of the most judicious letters you ever wrote. I mean that in it you judge with more propriety of yourself than I have almost ever seen you do. There is more of the 'yvwOi aeavTov in it than usual. Depend upon it, my excellent friend, you are in the very situation adapted to your bodily frame and disposition of mind, — a pretty little parish, a fine country, a relation and a friend for your patron. I breakfasted with his Lordship of Lisburne yes- terday : he has a great value for you, and knows you perfectly. He said, if you had been the greatest chief in Scotland he could not have treated you with more respect. My Lady is very amiable, and spoke of you in such terms as charmed me. I am clear that you should not leave Mamhead, unless for some very ad- vantageous settlement indeed. My Lord's chief ex- pectations for you are from the Bishop of Exeter. His own chaplain only stands between you and pro- motion in his diocese. I would rather wish you to 192 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. have less in Devonshire, as that you may continue at Mamhead, than a much better Hving in Ireland. I am very willing that you should rise and have more money ; but believe me, neither the one nor the other are essential to your happiness, or to that of your children. I am at present in a fourbillon of conversations ; but how come you to throw in the Thrales among the Reynoldses and the Beauclerks ? Mr. Thrale is a worthy, sensible man, and has the wits much about his house ; but he is not one himself. Perhaps you mean Mrs. Thrale. I have not written out another line of my remarks on the Hebrides. I found it impossible to do it in London. Besides, Dr. Johnson does not seem very desirous that I should publish any supplement. Be- hueen ourselves, he is not apt to encourage one to share repiitatioti with hiynself. But don't you think I may write out my remarks in Scotland, and send them to be revised by you, and then they may be published freely ? Give me your opinion of this. I am ashamed to say that I have not yet written to Mason about your character of Gray.* It would have been too late for the second edition of his book, which is come out. I shall certainly write. Lord Lisburne is to send you the books you mention when- ever he has a case made up. You will devour Gray, I suppose, with eagerness ; but perhaps you will be dis- appointed. Dr. Johnson does not like the book ; he * See ante^ p. 185. TERMS AT THE TEMPLE. 193 however says, that one should consider these letters were written and received in a long series of years, and so might do very well at the time ; whereas now we must read them as one mass, which makes a great difference. I shall talk to Davies of Muratori. Clax- ton has, I hope, forgiven me ; but he has not asked me to dine, and I am apprehensive is not quite pleased ; but I shall call on him again. I have now been twice at Commons in the Inner Temple ; I shall be twice next week, so as to make one Term. Direct for me at Edinburgh, after Satur- day, as I go next week. I am much pleased that I am now a favourite with Mrs. Temple. Make my best compliments to her. Adieu, my dearest friend ! Ever yours, J. B. 53.] Streatham, llth May, 1775. My dear Temple, It gives me acute pain that I have not written more to you since we parted last ; but I have been like a skiff in the sea, driven about by a multiplicity of waves. I am now at Mr. Thrale's villa, at Streat- ham, a dehghtful spot. Dr. Johnson is here too. I came yesterday to dinner, and this morning Dr. John- son and I return to London; and I go with Mr. Beauclerk to see his elegant villa and library, worth £3000, at Muswell Hill, near Highgatc, and return and dine with him. I hope Dr. Johnson will dine with us. T am in that dissipated state of mind that o 194 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. I absolutely cannot write ; I at least imagine so. But while I glow with gaiety, I feel friendship for you, nay, admiration of some of your qualities, as strong as you could wish. My excellent friend, let us ever ciJtivate that mutual regard which, as it has lasted till now, will, I trust, never fail. Worthy Claxton had not taken my neglect amiss : he has been in a hurry when I imagined him not satisfied with me. I ate bread and cheese and drank negus with him at his chambers on Sunday evening. I have a cause to come on in the House of Lords, on Friday ; it may perhaps last till Monday. I must set off for Edinburgh on Monday evening, to be in time for the General Assembly. On Saturday last I dined with John Wilkes and his daughter, and nobody else, at the Mansion-house ; it was a most pleasant scene. I had that day break- fasted with Dr. Johnson ; I drank tea with Lord Bute's daughter-in-law, and I supped with Miss Boswell. What variety ! Mr. Johnson went with me to Beauclerk's villa, Beauclerk having been ill; it is dehghtful, just at High gate. He has one of the most numerous and splendid private libraries that I ever saw ; green- houses, hot-houses, observatory, laboratory for chemi- cal experiments, in short everything princely. We dined with him at his box at the Adelphi. Write next to me at Edinburgh. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple. I am ever most affectionately yours, James Boswell. DUNDAS AS king's ADVOCATE. 195 T have promised to Dr. Johnson to read when I get to Scotland, and to keep an account of what I read : I shall let you know how I go on. My mind must be nourished. 54.] Grantham, ^tntl May, 1775. My dear Temple, Here I am again on my return from London, in almost as good spirits as when I wrote to you on my way to that metropolis ; but the handsome chamber- maid is gone from the inn, and I have the prospect of seeing my excellent wife very soon. I beg your pardon for neglecting to speak to Davies about Mu- ratori ; I was really in such a hurry of variety that it escaped me. You can easily write to him, or make Claxton call at his shop. I drank tea with Miss Claxton one day last week, and sat with her till he came home from the Antiquarian Society. I hope I am well with that worthy man and his sister ; better people cannot be found. Only think. Temple, of a law promotion in Scotland ; Harry Dundas is going to be made King's Advocate, — Lord Advocate at thirty- three ! I cannot help being angry and somewhat fret- ful at this ; he has, to be sure, strong parts, but he is a coarse, unlettered, unfanciful dog. Why is he so lucky ? is not such an office degraded by his getting it? By some strange coincidence he, a branch of a Whig family, is a great favourite of Lord Mansfield, and so he has jumped so high now, for I believe Lord o 2 196 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. Rockingham made him Sohcitor- General. Tell me, is it wrong to feel this at his success ? I have now eat a Term's Commons in the Inner Temple. You cannot imagine what satisfaction I had in the form and ceremony of the Hall. I must try to prevail with my father to consent to my trying my fortune at the English Bar. Do what I may, I have a treasure in having your friendship. I passed a de- lightful day yesterday. After breakfasting with Paoli, and worshipping at St. Paul's, I dined tete-a-tete with my charming Mrs. Stuart, of whom you have read in my journal ; she refused to be of a party at Richmond, that she and I might enjoy a farewell interview. We dined in all the elegance of two courses and a dessert, with dumb-waiters, except when the second course and the dessert wxre served. We talked with unre- served freedom, as we had nothing to fear ; we were jjJiilosopJiical, upon honour, — not deep, but feeling ; we were pious ; we drank tea, and bid each other adieu as finely as romance paints. She is my wife's dearest friend ; so you see how beautiful our intimacy is. I then went to Mr. Johnson's, and he accompanied me to Dilly's, where we supped ; and then he went with me to the inn in Holborn, where the Newcastle Fly sets out : we were warmly affectionate. He is to buy for me a chest of books, of his choosing, off stalls, and I am to read more and drink less ; that was his counsel. I have called on my friend Dr. Palmer, and I am now so sleepy that I can scarcely keep my eyes from clo- sing. Tell Mrs. Temple that I am a favourite with JOURNEY TO EDINBURGH. 197 her because she knows me better, and that she may be assured that the more she knows me the more allowance will she make for my faults. God bless and preserve you, ray dearest friend ! Ever yours, J. B. There is a Miss Silverton in the Fly with me, an amiable creature, who has been in France. I can unite little fondnesses with perfect conjugal love. Re- member to put my letters in a book neatly ; see which of us does it first. This postscript lets us into the secret that the letters here presented to the reader were certainly thought worthy of being kept by the writer, and that the idea of other eyes conning them was not absent from his mind. The Mrs. Stuart above referred to is probably the wife of the gentleman who, once joking Boswell for being ugly, the latter deemed it a pleasant retort to ask him whether his wife thought so. 55.] Edinburgh, 'ird June, 1775. My dearest Friend, A better journey could not be than my last from London to Edinburgh. I was in great health and spirits ; and every occurrence of every sort was made into amusement of some kind or other, as we are told 198 LETTERS or BOSWELL. distillers will extract a spirit from substances in tliem- selves disagreeable enough. I visited my brother John near Newcastle, and found him pretty much in the same state as when I saAv him in March ; he does not seem to be unhappy. On my arrival here I had the pleasure to find my wife and two little daughters as well as I could wish ; but indeed, my worthy priest, it required some philosophy to bear the change from England to Scotland. The unpleasing tone, the rude familiarity, the barren conversation of those whom I found here, in comparison with what I had left, really hurt my feelings. The excellent Laird of Grange hap- pened to be here for some days after I came down; he was a comfort to me. He was delighted with my account of my late jaunt into Devonshire ; and Lord Clifford and his old trees and the priests, etc., feasted his imagination. The General Assembly is sitting, and I practise at its Bar, There is de facta something low and coarse in such employment, though on paper it is a Court oi Supreme Judicature ; but guineas must be had. I have written a conciliating letter to my father, but I fear he is callous. If he persists in retaining the allowance or establishment which he has hitherto paid me, I shall be somewhat embarrassed. I trust how- ever that he will not be so unreasonable. If Lord Mountstuart would but get me an independency from the King, while my father lives, I should be a fine fellow. Do you know, it requires more than ordinary spirit PRACTICE IN THE COURT OF SESSION. 199 to do what I am to do this very morning : I am to go to the General Assembly and arraign a judgment pronounced last year by Dr. Robertson, Johji Home, and a good many more of them, and they are to appear on the other side. To speak well, when I despise both the cause and the Judges, is difficult ; but I believe I shall do wonderfully. I look forward with aversion to the little, dull labours of the Court of Session. You see, Temple, I have my troubles as well as you have. My promise under the venerable yew has kept me sober. You shall hear from me often. What would I give to have you here today, that I might be cheered by your company after my day's drudgery ! My best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and kind wishes to the young ones. Pray let me be respectfully remembered to Lord and Lady L. I never received Lord L.'s letter. Ever most faithfully yours, J. B. There is a strange notion expressed in the following letter by the writer, that he had earned the hospita- lity General Paoli extended to him, and which he so excessively enjoyed. 56.] Edinburgh, (Jtli June, 1775. My dear Temple, Believe me, your excellent letter of the 27th of May, which I received last night, after my coming home fa- tigued, after seeing a review, was exceedingly rc^fresh- 200 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. ing to me ; nay, it elevated my mind higher than I can well express to so intimate a friend ; for it is most certain that all expressions of compliment or kindness between such friends as we are onght to be superflu- ous. General Paoli told me lately that his brother w^as ill; he consulted physicians in London, and in- formed him of what they said ; but he never once put in words that he was sorry or afiectionately concerned, for he thought that would be quite unnecessary : he was so obliging as to apply this remark to me ; "I need not tell you," said he, " that everything in my pow^r is at your disposal." For the last fortnight that I was in London, since I saw you, I lay at his house, and had the command of his coach. My lodgings in Ger- rard Street were taken by a gentleman for a longer time than I could stay ; so it was obliging my landlord to quit them, and all cards and messages of every kind were taken in there for me. I felt more dignity when I had several servants at my devotion, a large apart- ment, and the convenience and state of a coach ; I re- collected that iliis dignity in London was honourably acquired by my travels abroad, and my pen after I came home, so I could enjoy it with my own appro- bation ; and in the extent and multiplicity of the i\Ie- tropolis, other people had not even the materials for finding fault, as my situation w^as not particularly known. Thus far I have written, w-hen my clerk warns me I shall be late for the post. Let me then only tell you that I wrote to Mason a week ago; and that I am DIGNITY IN LONDON. 201 happier than you can imagine at the prospect of your letters addressed to me ;* it is a charming thought. Wyvill is here : I dined at his father's today ; his wife is very homely indeed ; he and Sir Alexander Dick, who was there, begged that I would send you their best compliments. Wyvill bid me tell you, he was sorry he could give you no aid on Church history, as he has not studied it. Adieu, my dearest friend ! Ever yours, J. B. Best compliments to Mrs. Temple. 57.] Edmhurgh, IWi June, 1775. My dear Temple, This summer I hope shall be much more fertile than usual in letters between you and me. Our late com- fortable week at Mamhead has had the best effect on my mind : when harassed and fretted with Court of Sessions business, when vexed to think myself a coarse labourer in an obscure corner, I get into good humour agahi by recollecting that I am Temple's most inti- mate friend; that Temple, who knows me perfectly, thinks of me as I know you do. No doubt the prac- tice of the law here is sometimes irksome to me, but it is often a kind of amusement ; I have to consi- der and illustrate quicquid agunt homines ; I have to treat of characters, of the history of families, of trade * Referring ))robuI)ly ti) tlicir projioscd |)iil)lif;ilioii. 202 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. and manufactures, as contracts concerning tliem are the foundations of many lawsuits ; in short, the variety of subjects of which fragments pass through my mind, as a pleader, engages my attention ; and, as upon most occasions, I become warmly desirous of my client's success; there is the agitation of contest, and some- times, in a certain degree, the triumph of victory ; but there is also sometimes the discouragement of defeat. Since I came down I have seen Mr. David Hume several times. I know you love to hear little anec- dotes of him, so I shall endeavom" to cull as many as I can. I first saw him one forenoon that I called on him; he had Macpherson's History before him, and he said it was the worst style he had ever read, and that Macpherson had written his two volumes in quarto in six weeks ; lie said he himself did not like to continue the History of England further down, be- cause we have not yet had access to papers sufficient to let us know, with authenticity, the state of affair's ; and it was disagreeable to write history which after- w'ards might be proved not to be true. He spoke highly of the ' Histoire Philosophique et Politique,' and I wondered to find him excuse very easily the au- thor of that book, for translating long passages from English wTiters without quoting them, but just ingraft- ing the passages into his text ; he said there are about fifteen pages translated from his History, but he com- plained of one mistake. He has mentioned that the clergy carried their claim of tithes to so strange an excess tliat thev insisted to have a tenth of the irain of ANECDOTES OF HUME. 203 courtesans ; the Frenchman, mistaking courtesans for courtisans (courtiers) in his own language, makes the tenth to be of the gains de ceux qui avaient des em- plois a la Coiir. This, said David very justly, takes the salt from the observation. He says Abbe Raynal can- not have written that book himself; the eloquence must have been borrowed ; he is, said he, a dull man in conversation ; that however is not a certain rule for judging that a man cannot write well; but he has written ill : his ' Histoire du Parlement d'Ansleterre ' is very ill written. He says, when he was at Paris, Abbe Raynal was making collections for a work on America, and he supposed the materials have been supplied by him. On Wednesday last I dined at Sir Alexander Dick's, where we had the Wyvill family, a M. de Septchenes, a very young Parisian, introduced to me in London by Mr. Burke, and who brought letters to me and some others here from Sir John Pringle, and was also re- commended by M. BufPon. Mr. Hume was there too. Wyvill was glad to meet with him, as he had never seen him before. He said Mr. Pitt was an instance that in this country eloquence alone, without any other talents or fortune, will raise a man to the highest office. On Thursday I supped at Mr. Hume's, where we had the young Parisian, Lord Kames, and Dr. Ro- bertson, an elegant supper, three sorts of ice-creams. What think you of the northern Epicurus style ? I can recollect no conversation. Our writers here are really not prompt on all occasions, as those of l^ondon. 204 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. On Saturday, the Parisian and Mr. Hume and some gentlemen supped with me, — no fruit that night either. But the word fruit makes me recollect that Hume said Burke's speech on Reconciliation with the Co- lonies, w^hich I lent to him, had a great deal of flower, a great deal of leaf, and a little fruit. Yesterday I met Mr. Hume at Lord Kames', in the forenoon. He said it was all over in America : we could not subdue the colonists, and another gun should not be fired, were it not for decency's sake; he meant, in order to keep up an appearance of power. But I think the lives of our fellow-subjects should not be thrown away for such decency. He said we may do very well without America, and he was for withdraw- ing our troops altogether and letting the Canadians fall upon our colonists. I do not think he makes our riglit to tax at all clear. He says there will in all pro- bability be a change of the Ministry soon, which he regrets. Oh, Temple, while they change so often, how does one feel an ambition to have a share in the great department ! but I fear my wish to be a man of con- sequence in the State is much like some of your ambi- tious sallies. Mr. Hume and Lord Kames joined in attacking Dr. Johnson to an absurd pitch. Mr. Hume said he would give me half-a-crown for every page of his Dic- tionary in which he could not find an absurdity, if I would give him half-a-crown for every page in which he did not find one : he talked so insolently, really, that T calmlv determined to be at him ; so I repeated, by CONVERSATION WITH HUME. 205 way of telling that Dr. Johnson could be touched, the admirable passage in your letter, how the Ministry had set him to write in a way that they " could not ask even their infidel pensioner Hume to write."* Upon honour, I did not give the least hint from whom I had the letter. When Hume asked if it was from an American, I said, No, it was from an English gentle- man. "Would a gentleman write so?" said he. In short, Davy was finely punished f for his treatment of my revered friend ; and he deserved it richly, both for his petulance to so great a character and for his talking so before me (!). I dined yesterday with Lord Kames and his Lady en famille, and got from my Lord a good deal of his life. He says he will put down particulars of himself if I will put them together and publish them. I think he has eminence enough to merit this. This forenoon Mr. Hume came in awhile to my brother lawyer Mr. Crosbie's, where I was sitting. He did not say much : I only remember his remark, that characters depend more on original formation than on the way we are educated ; " for," said he, " princes are educated uni- * The passage of Temple's letter wliicli Boswell then read to Dr. Johnson and Hume, with the object of affecting both uncomfortably, ran thus : — " How can your great, I will not say y o\u- jnous, but your moral friend, support the barbarous measures of Administration, which they have not the face to ask even their infidel pensioner Hume to defend ?" (Life of Johnson, 21st March, 1778.) f Whether Temple could be quite pleased with the turn of this conversation, brought about by Boswell's officiousness, is somewhat doubtful. The "talking so before mc " is thoroughly Boswellian. 206 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. formly, and yet how different are they ! how different was James the Second from Charles the Second !" I am glad you are going to compose sermons; I shall ask Dr. Johnson in my next what is the best Com- mentary on the Bible. Among old sermons, he men- tioned Latimer's and Sanderson's, which I find you do not like, and I forget what others. I believe I mentioned to you that I dined one day at old 'My. Wyvill's. He and his daughter, and om- friend and his wife, and Sir Alexander and ]\Iiss Dick dined with us here ; and last night Dr. AYy vill came and sat with me a long while, and we had a very solid, good tete-a-tete ; he asked me kindly to his Seat. He is gone today. I enclose you a copy of my letter to j\Iason, toge- ther with his answer, which I received this afternoon. I certainly wrote to him with sufficient civility ; yet his answer is, I think, very dry and ill-humoured. AA^orthy Grange, who was with me, said he must be a surly child. Observe with what arrogance he talks of his strictures on yom' character of Gray ; when I pub- lished it, I did not know that he was preparing me- moirs : I fancy he is of a sour temper. Pray return me my copy and his letter, and tell me if I should write to him again. I shall ask from Lord Hailes a sheet of his Annals to send you. StiU I have not begun to read ; but my resolution is hvely, and I trust I shall have it in my power soon to give you au account of my studies : all that I can say for myself at present is, that I attend, along with John Swinton and others, a PARENTAL DISCOMFORTS. 207 course of lectures and experiments by Dr. Black, Pro- fessor of Chemistry, — a study which Dr. Johnson re- commends much. My father is most unhappily dissatisfied with me. My wife and I dined with him on Saturday ; he did not salute her, though he had not seen her for three months ; nor did he so much as ask her how she did, though she is advanced in pregnancy. I understand he fancies that if I had married another woman I might not only have had a better portion with her, but might have been kept from what he thinks idle and extrava- gant conduct. He harps on my going over Scotland with a brute* (think, how shockingly erroneous !), and wandering (or some such phrase) to London. In vain do I defend myself: even the circumstance that my last jaunt to London did not cost me £20 — as I got forty-two guineas in London — does not affect him. How hard is it that I am totally excluded from pa- rental comfort ! I have a mind to go to Auchinleck next autumn, and try what living in a mixed stupidity of attention to common objects, and restraint from ex- pressing any of my own feelings, can do with him. I always dread his making some bad settlement. My wife joins me in best compliments to you and Mrs. Temple. My love to the children. Go on with your Green-book scheme ; I delight in the prospect. Ever yours, J. B. * Eeferriiii>- to Dr. Johnson, tlui " avild Poniinic;." :()s CHAPTER IX. 1775. HYPOCHONDRIA. PROPOSED PUBLICATION OF MR. TEMPLE's LETTERS TO BOSWELL. LORD HAILES' ANNALS OF SCOTLAND. LORD LISBURNE. CAPABILITY BROWN. — EDMUND BURKE. BOSWELL's pedigree.— allowance by HIS FATHER. AME- RICAN WAR. CONJUGAL SOCIETY. — BOSWELL's ESTIMATION OF HIMSELF. HIS FATHER'S VIEWS. — DIVARICATION OF THE TWO. — FAMILY SETTLEMENTS. BIRTH OF A SON. — DUNDAS. DR. JOHNSON ON THE CONTINENT. — SPECULATION ON HAPPI- NESS. In several passages of the letters in this Chapter, we see that Mr. Temple had it in contemplation to prepare for the press the letters, or part of them, which he had addressed to Boswell during this cor- respondence. The intention of publishing them as " Letters to James Boswell," seems to have been sub- sequently abandoned. The disgust which poor Boswell experienced, and in his letters frequently expresses, on accoinit of the appreciation which Lord Auchinleck both felt and exhibited for his son, — so ludicrously different to that of the son himself, and " a wonderful number of man- kind" besides, — is again reiterated. HYPOCHONDRIACAL ATTACK. 209 58.] Edinburgh, IWi August, 1775. My dearest Friend, Again there has been a sad interval in our corre- spondence, but do not blame me. I have had a pretty severe return this summer of that melancholy, or hy- pochondria, which is inherent in my constitution, and from which I have suffered miserably in former years, though since my marriage I have been wonderfully free from it. Your languor and discontent are occa- sioned by a gentler species of that distemper. You have a slow fever, — I, a raging one. While gloomy and fretful, and grossly indolent, I was shocked with the recollection of my good spirits, gaiety, and activity, as a man with a headache is shocked by bright sun- beams. But I need not describe my feelings to you. The strange thing was that I did not write to you a few lines, merely as firing guns of distress. Nobody here but my wife and worthy Johnston had the least notion of my being at all uneasy, for I have been re- markably busy this summer. I wrote about three- score law papers, and got £124 in fees during last Sessions of two months. The Court rose yesterday, and this day the clouds have begun to recede from my mind, I cannot tell from what cause. My promise under the solenm yew I have observed wonderfully, having never infringed it till, the other day, a very jovial company of us dined at a tavern, and I un- warily exceeded my bottle of old Hock ; and having once broke over the pale, I run wild, but I did not get drunk. I was however intoxicated, and very iU next p 210 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. day. I ask your forgiveness, and I shall be more strictly cautious for the future. The drunken man- ners of this country are very bad. I am exceedingly pleased with the Sketches which you have sent me.* Your assuming, or rather appear- ing as, a character, to give them a dramatical cast, is very right ; but I would guard you against loading the character too much with evil. I have therefore suggested the omission of some passages and the softening of others. You know it is a trite remark, that there is nothing more difficult for a man than to speak of himself; and you will judge if anything more is necessary to introduce the letters, or rather to ac- count for their being written, than our long friend- ship, great distance, and the effects of a literary cor- respondence on us both, which you well describe when you talk of my being engaged in the pursuits of a vir- tuous ambition. It appears to me not well to omit the Scotch Bar, at which I ply much against my will ; but let it remain. Letters are now become so common that, like sermons, they do not attract public curiosity. I would therefore have the title of your volume to be, ' Remarks on various Authors, in a series of Letters to James Bos well, Esq.,' or some such arrangement, so as that ' Letters' may not stand in the front. I have no doubt of your making a valuable, elegant book. Lord Hailes very readily agreed to my sending you a specimen of his ' Annals of Scotland.' I give you a double treat, for I enclose you a specimen, with * Probably ' Historical and Political Memoirs.' IDEA or HAPPINESS. 211 emendations by Dr. Johnson. Sir David is to pub- lish first an edition in quarto, with notes, in the form of one sheet of the specimen sent. If that edition takes, he is then to pubHsh one in octavo, without notes, in the form of another sheet of the specimen sent. The text of both editions will be the same. Above two hundred pages of the quarto edition are thrown off. He says he will not sell his copy so as that the book shall be too high priced. He will give us four hundred pages in quarto, such as you see, for fifteen shillings. Dr. Johnson likes the work ; it has the most minute authenticity, and the style is concise and real. You will return me the specimen, and tell me how you liked it and Dr. Johnson's critical re- marks : he has gone through a great deal of tlie w^ork. I told Lord Hailes you were Lord Lisburne's clergy- man : he said my Lord was his intimate friend. Pray talk to Lord L. of him, and at the same time pre- sent my best respects to his Lordship and Lady Lis- burne. You are certainly right, that none are so happy as they appear to be. You tell me that Lord L., wdth his large estates, fine place, fine wife, seat at the Ad- miralty Board, elegant table, etc. etc., is not happy. I believe it, for I can trust to your opinion ; yet I can- not think but he has excellent portions of existence, and I imagine I should prefer his worst hours to the best of a Scotch lawyer or a country Laird. What say you to Lord Cliff'ord's happiness, with his noble park ? But, by the bye. Sir Joshua Reynolds told mc p 2 212 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. that Capability Brown's compliment, of natm'e being lewd, is what he pays upon many occasions. What say you to Lord Clifford's family pride, his vivacity, the varieties w'hich move his mind from being a Roman Catholic? I recollect that even in the midst of all that surrounded us at Ugbrook, even in the midst of the merriment about Wilkes and Tuberville Needham, (" Honest Tub,") a cloudiness damped my mind ; but I had been exhausted by riding all the forenoon, and expatiating upon rural beauties which I did not much feel.* Bnt it is absurd to hope for continual happi- ness in this life ; few men, if any, enjoy it. I have a kind of belief that Edmund Burke does : he has so much knowledge, so much animation, and the con- sciousness of so much fame. I am now writing on Monday the 14th. The post has brought me a letter from the Lord Mayor Wilkes. I wrote to him, begging him that he w^ould authenticate a pedigree of our fa- mily for my brother David. He whites, " The pedigree * There are frequent repetitions of this sentiment ; and we may accept Ids own evidence to show that Boswell was not impressed with the beauties or pictm'esque of landscape. Dr. Johnson's feelings on the same subject confirmed his views, as one reads in the ' Life of Johnson' thus : " We walked in the evening in Greenwich Park : he asked me, I suppose by way of trying my disposition, ' Is not this very fine ?' Having no exquisite relish of the beauties of nature, and being more delighted with the ' busy hum of men,' I answered, ' Yes, Sir, but not equal to Fleet Street.' Johmn.: ' You are right, Sir.' " (July 30th, 1763.) Again, " As we walked to St. Clement's Church, I again remarked, that Fleet Street was the most cheerful scene in the world. ' lleet Street,' said he, 'is in ray mind more delightful than Tempe.'" (April 17th, 1778.) LORD MAYOR WILKES. 213 was authenticated with all due solemnity, and in a more beautiful manner than has been done before at the Lord Mayor's office, that the name of Boswell may be considered in as fair a light in Spain as it is in Scotland and England." He says, " I expect in half an hour a score of worthy liverymen, friends of Wilkes and liberty, whom so liberal a Scot as you would re- joice to hear and make libations with." My company are just arrived. Mr. Boswell in a bumper — huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! Tell me, my dear Temple, if a man who receives so many marks of more than ordinary consideration can be satisfied to drudge in an obscure corner, where the manners of the people are disagreeable to him ? You see how soon I revive again. Could I but persuade my father to give me £400 a year, and let me go to the English Bar, I think I should be much better. That however seems to be impossible. As he is bound for £1000 w^iich I owe, he has resolved to lessen his al- lowance to me of £300 to £200. I must not dispute with him, but he is really a strange man. He is gone to Auchinleck. I intend to pass a little while with him there soon, and sound him, or rather see just what attention can produce. Nothing have I read yet except three small trea- tises on Midwifery, as I was engaged in a cause con- . cerning the duration of pregnancy. I last year began Robertson's ' Charles V. ;' I shall finish it in the first place. I forgot that I have read half through a trans- lation of the 'Lusiad' of Camoens by Mr. Mickle, a 214 LETTERS OF EOSWELL. Scotsman, who resides near Oxford, and I shall have done with it in a day or two; it will be published early next winter. It seems to be a work of capital merit ; he has translated it well, and enriched it with many good notes. Your cider is arrived, and is excellent ; I am much obliged to you for it. I am to give worthy Johnston a dozen of it. While afflicted with melancholy, all the doubts which have ever disturbed thinking men come upon me. I awake in the night dreading annihilation, or being thrown into some horrible state of beins;. We must own, my friend, that moral and religious truths are not such as that we can contemplate them by reason with a constant certainty. The disposition of our tempers, of our spirits, influences our persuasion, though we know that we may help it in part. The other night, while I was gloomy, I felt a strong impression or recollection of the phrase in Scripture, " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found." My wife is an admi- rable companion for a man of my atrabilious tempera- ment, for she has a good store of common sense and cheerfulness. She and my little daughters are very well ; but you cannot imagine what apprehensions I have at times lest I should lose them, or they me, by death. I am growing more and more an American. I see the unreasonableness of taxing them without the con- sent of theu' Assemblies ; I think our Ministry are mad in undertaking this desperate war. Let us write ! PATERNAL ESTIMATION, 215 ofteiier ; your correspondence is a great comfort to me. My sincerest compliments to Mrs. Temple and love to the children. Ever most affectionately yours, J. B. 59.] AncMnlecJc, 'ind September, 1775. My dear Temple, Here I am, according to my purpose. I came to Auchinleck on Monday last, and I have patiently lived at it till Saturday evening. Tomorrow I shall go to the Parish Kirk and hear Mr. John Dur preach. On Monday I go in my father's coach to Glasgow, and on Tuesday he goes west on his Circuit, and I go east to my home at Edinburgh, to my valuable spouse and my dear little children. Intervals of absence make conjugal society more agreeable, especially when the time of absence has not been very happily spent. You may remember how I described to Lord Lisburne the causes of my aversion to the country : it is hardly credible how difficult it is for a man of my sensibi- lity to support existence in the family where I now am. My father, whom I really both respect and affec- tionate (if that is a word, for it is a different feeling from that which is expressed by love, which I can say of you from my soul), is so different from me. We divaricate so much, as Dr. Johnson said, that I am often hurt when, I dare say, he means no harm ; and he has a method of treating me which makes me feci my- self like a finiid hot/, which to Bosiceil (comprehending 216 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. all that my character does in my own imagination and in that of a wonderfnl number of mankind) is intole- rable. His wife too, whom in my conscience I cannot condemn for any capital bad quality, is so narrow- minded, and, I don't know how, so set upon keeping him under her own management, and so suspicious and so sourishly tempered, that it requires the utmost exertion of practical philosophy to keep myself quiet. I however have done so all this week to admiration : nay, I have appeared good-humoured ; but it has cost me drinking a considerable quantity of strong beer to dull my faculties. The place is greatly improved ; it is really princely. I perceive some dawnings of taste for the country. I have sauntered about with my father, and he has seen that I am pleased with his works. But what a discouraging reflection is it that he has in his possession a renunciation of my birthright, which I madly granted to him, and which he has not the generosity to restore now that I am doing beyond his utmost hopes, and that he may in- commode and disgrace me by some strange settle- ments, while all this time not a shilling is secured to my wife and children in case of my death ! You know, my best friend, that as an old Laird of this family gave the estate to the heir male, though he had four daugh- ters, I hold it as a sacred point of honour not to alter that line of succession. Dr. Johnson praises me for my firmness, and my own mind is immovable. There is a kind of heroism in it, but I have severe paroxysms of anxiety ; and how unhap[)y is it for a man to have A FAMILY LETTER. 217 no security for what is dear to him but his father's death ! Do not reason against me ; try to comfort me. My father is visibly faihng : perhaps I may get him yet to do as I wish. In the meantime I have written plainly to my brother David, to see if he will settle on my wife and daughters, in case of his suc- ceedino;. I shall now know whether trade has de- stroyed his liberal spirit. This is quite ?^ family letter, written in the utmost confidence. Perhaps all may happen well. May God preserve you to me, my dearest friend ! Ever yours, J. B. 60.] Edinburgh, lUh October, 1775. My dear Temple, I am really uneasy that I have been so long of hear- ing from you. I wrote to you in August, I think, from this place, and in September from Auchinleck ; but, instead of complaining of your silence, I feel a kind of exultation in thus being superior to you in the duties of friendship. However, to put an end to uninteresting reflections, let me inform you that last night my wife was safely delivered of a son. You know, my dearest friend, of what importance this is to me ; of what importance it is to the family of Auchinleck, which you may be well convinced is my supreme ob- ject in this world. My wife was very ill in her labour, but is in a good way, and the child appears to be as well as we could wish. My kind compliments to Mrs. 218 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. Temple. I am hurried, and cannot expatiate on tliis happy event ; I hope you will find time to do it with yom- elegant pen, thou characterizer of Gray ! Pray present my respects to Lord and Lady Lis- burne and Lord and Lady Clifford, and make them understand how happy I am. Ever yours, James Bos well. 61.] Edinburgh, l&th October, 1775. My dearest Friend, By the very return of the post I can make you easy with respect to an apprehension which your anxiety about me has made you form, with probability enough too, and which has been magnified and darkened in the cloudy musings of dismal dreaming. Upon my honour, I did not write the attack in the newspapers upon Dundas and Cochrane ; nor do I know who wrote it or who sent it ; in short, I know nothing at all of it. I confess I did intend to have Amtten against them, for daring to assume most illegal powers ; but I considered better, and let it alone : you are right in suggesting that it would be attributed to envy. Were it not that I feel myself in ri^ht, and, in my views at least, near the present Lord Advocate, I should cer- tainly trim him for his insolence, though, to speak with candour, I rather believe that he is, upon the whole, a man of abilities and a man of worth. I imagine that this very day my letter of the 10th, BIRTH OP AN HEIR. 219 informing you of the birth of my son, has reached you ; upon more accurate computation of the course of the post, it would be yesterday. I figure the joy with which you and Mrs. Temple would receive the news ; it is, you know, of very great importance to me to have a son, considering how firmly rooted my old feudal principles are ; and I imagine my wife, having brought an heir male, will make her be more regarded by my father. Eor fear of being too late for the post, I conclude for this night, but shall very soon write to you again. I am much pleased with your visit at Mount Edgecumbe, but let me know your faults ; I will endeavour to un- derstand them. I will force a taste for rural beauties. I know Mr. Jerningham's pleasing poetry ; I saw him one day in the street, in London, with Langdon. Did Lord Lisburne introduce you at Mount Edgecumbe, or how did you go ? You see how highly I think of being there ; General Paoli is to take me thither. My wife and children are well. Best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to the young ones. Ever most warmly yours, James Boswell. In the following letter Boswell remarks, that " Dr. Johnson has said nothing to me of my remarks during my journey with him, which I wish to write." Dr. Johnson however, we know, had an opinion upon Bos- well in the capacity of travelling reporter ; for he writes 220 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. to Mrs. Thrale, asking her how Boswell's Journal had entertained her ; " One would think," says he, " the man had been hired to be a spy upon me ; he was very diligent, and caught opportunities of writing from time to time." Still, as before observed, the Doctor was not willing to have Boswell's amusing remarks published, especially as they were open to, and indeed when published incurred, no little ridicule. Dr. John- son had travelled over the same ground in his own work, which must nevertheless be pronounced far less interesting than that of his companion. 63.] Edinhirgh, Qtli November, 1775. My dear Temple, This is to be only a letter of congratulation on the very good news which you have announced to me. T/ie hest living in the Diocese of Exeter, and the pre- sent incumbent eighty-six ! with such a prospect, can you be dispirited ? If you attain to such a reality, will you have the assurance to complain any more? I most heartily rejoice at this great good fortune. Your removal to Ireland had something dreary in it; Old England is your chme, and Devonshire has chiefly the mn and summer gale. We shall meet once a year ; we shall be often in London together. We may visit some part of the Continent, which, by the bye. Dr. Johnson has done lately, Avith Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. I long to have some account of his peregrination in Gaul. How do you imagine he would pass his time in Paris ? if he got fairly into conversation with some of the French temple's letters. 221 loaux espriis, how would he stun them by one of his violent explosions ! I have seen the preface to his Dictionary, translated by Diderot, and when Madame de Boufflers was in England, she visited him in the Temple. It pleases me much that you are making good pro- gress in your Essays, — I understand by that word your letters to me. 1 always was sure that they would do you honour as a man of reading and taste; but I must insist on your putting your name to them, and leaving out, for some future pubhcation, any passages which you do not choose at present to own. I shall Ije impatient to receive some more of your manuscript. My wife is recovered remarkably well. This son has been quite a cordial to her. He has been a little unlucky. The nurse had not milk enough; and, as he is a big-boned fellow, he cannot subsist without plentiful sustenance. We have got another nurse, a strong, healthy woman, with an abundant breast. His mother is quite unfit for nursing, she is of a temper so exceedingly anxious. I have not yet seen Mr. Hume, but shall call on him soon, and then you shall have a letter from me stored with entertainment. I cannot as yet say any- thing of my studies ; I have read the first volume of Robertson's ' Charles V. ; ' when I have finished the book I shall give you my opinion ; in the meantime I am really disappointed. I have read a beautiful little French piece, ' Consultation sur la Discipline des Avocats ;' it will animate my essay on the profession 222 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. which I follow, if I ever write it. Dr. Johnson has said nothing to me of my remarks during my journey with him, which I wish to write. Shall I task my- self to write so much of them a week, and send to you for revisal ? If I do not publish them now, they will be good materials for my ' Life of Dr. Johnson.' My best compliments to Mrs. Temple and love to the children. I was, upon honour, much pleased when last at Mamhead. What is the reason that no life whatever appears happy in a descriptive detail ? Even your life at Mount Edgecumbe would not have ap- peared happy though you had not added your con- fession of weariness. I wish you would explain this to me ; may it be that life is happy only in masses ? For to see a man live, hour by hour, makes us not think him happy so well as reading a detail does. I am afraid this is very confused speculation, but try the sentiment. Read an account how any happy fa- mily passes a day, and tell me if you would not wish to live so.* Lor^l Lisburne is certainly your patron now. I would wish to write to him to thank him, if you allow me. I hope he will introduce me to your Bishop in the Spring. Adieu, my dearest friend ! I am ever most aflFectionately yours, James Boswell. * Unfortunately Mr. Temple's explanation of this propounded puzzle, although very necessaiy, is not presented to us. 223 CHAPTER X. 1776. MRS. KUDD, HER TRIAL AND TREACHERY. BOSWELL SEEKS HER ACQUAINTANCE. AT BATH WITH DR. JOHNSON AND THE THRALES. THE YEW-TREE VOW NOT KEPT. HABITS OF DRINKING. MRS. RUDD BOSWELLIZED. - — PURE FRIENDSHIP FOR MRS. STUART. THE DEVONSHIRE FAMILY. Boswell's making the acquaintance of Mrs. Riidcl, mentioned at the close of the following letter, affords another instance of his dominant passion for knowing people who had achieved notoriety. It is in reading such letters that one feels almost disposed to ex- claim, — " How much, metliinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in charity against it."* " The celebrated" wretch was sought out, and, no doubt, for the time incessantly discussed by Bos well, who had successfully aspired to her acquaintance. He observes, in a memorandum of a conversation with Dr. Johnson, " I talked a good deal [to Johnson] of the celebrated Margaret Caroline Rudd, whom I had visited, induced by the fame of her talents, address, * Henry VIII., Act iii. scene 3. 224 LETTERS OP BOSWELL. and irresistible power of fascination. To a lady who disapproved of my visiting her he said, on a former occasion, ' Nay, ]\Iadam, Bos well is in the right ; I should have visited her myself, were it not that they have now a trick of putting everything into the news- papers.' This evening he exclaimed, ' I envy him his acquaintance with Mrs. Rudd.'" Who ]\Irs. Rudd was will be best seen in the New- gate Calendar. A sufficient account however of the trial of her confederates in crime and of herself, and of her attempt to save herself by turning King's evi- dence against her paramour and his twin brother, will be found in the 'Annual Register' for the year 1775 (vol. xviii.), under the title, " Some Account of the Ap- prehending and Trying Robert Perreau of Golden Square, Apothecary, Daniel Perreau of Harley Street, and Margaret Caroline Rudd, for divers Forgeries." It is not easy to determine from this account what was the proportion of guilt attaching to each of these individuals respectively, if indeed the brothers Perreau were guilty at all. Mrs. Rudd used to pass as Mrs. Daniel Perreau; and although there is considerable obscurity as to the l)art which the Perreaus played in the frauds perpe- trated by forging and uttering bonds in the name of AVilliam Adair, and possibly some doubt as to the criminality of both of them, as principals at least, yet in the end the brothers were hanged, some months after their trial, protesting their innocence. j\lrs. Rudd was acquitted, and was, as we are told, and MRS. RUDD. 225 can readily understand, " confounded with joy at her discharge," The case is all the more remarkable from the fact that Robert Perreau in the first instance produced Mrs. Rudd at Bow Street, as the person who had given him a bond, which, when he offered it as a security to Messrs. Druramond (the bankers), was discovered to be a forgery. The magistrate admitted her, with some- what questionable discretion, it would seem, to give evidence for the Crown against the Perreaus. Upon the ground of having thus been allowed to become " King's evidence," she claimed to be exempt from trial, and applied to be discharged forthwith from custody on bail. Lord Mansfield* however, having considered her claim fully, refused the application. " It has been urged," said he, " that the prisoner in this case is an accomplice, who has been admitted to give evi- dence ; that she has already given evidence, and is farther ready to give evidence, to convict her partners in the business ; and therefore, that she is entitled by law to the King's pardon, and to a pardon which would operate in bar of her own crime. If she had such a right, we should be bound, ex debiio justiticE, to quit her ; if she had not such a legal right, but yet came under circumstances sufficient to warrant the Court in saying that she had such a title of recom- mendation to the King for a pardon, we should bail her, for the purpose of giving her an opportunity of applying for such pardon." After discussing the law * See Cowper's Eeports, p. 331. 226 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. of " approvement," the learned Judge thus proceeds : — " These being the general rules, let us see how far the present case is applicable to them, or in any de- gree falls within the reason of them. A bond is de- tected to have been forged ; three persons are appre- hended on suspicion — the two Perreaus, and the pri- soner (Mrs. Rudd). The Justices, by their affidavit, say they admitted the prisoner as an evidence against the Perreaus, and swear they considered her as an accomplice ; and they say they told her ' that if she would speak the truth, and the whole truih, not only in respect of the bond in question, but of all the other forgeries, that then she should be safe ; if not, she would be prosecuted;' and the truth is, she was hable to be prosecuted for all. " What is the disclosure she makes ? It is this, that Daniel Perreau came, with a knife to her throat, and threatened to kill her, if she did not forge one of the bonds in question ; that, under the terror of death, she forged it ; and that Robert Perreau brought the bond before ready filled up. On this information she is no accomplice : she has confessed no guilt, if the fact is true that she was under the fear of immediate death ; for it is the will that constitutes the crime. She comes, therefore, in the character of a person in- jured, in the character of one to whom this violence has been done. Instead of being a party offending, she is a party offended, as much as a man who has been robbed on the highway." Lord Mansfield also observes another most material fact, namely, " that her TRIAL OF MRS. RUDD. 227 information is flatly contradicted by herself; for, on a voluntary confession of her own, she took the whole guilt upon herself ; said that she alone forged the bond for £7500, and that Robert Perreau was an innocent man. If the Justices had known of this confession, they could not have admitted her as evidence." The confession here alluded to was made at Messrs. Druni- mond's, in the first instance ; for when they doubted the genuineness of the signature of the bond, purport- ing to be that of Mr. Adair, Robert Perreau sent im- mediately for Mrs. Rudd to explain the matter, as it was she who had handed the bond to him originally, and she thereupon admitted her forgery. Lord Mans- field resolved on the whole that " her information is false, and the conditions not complied with," and that she must take her trial in due course. The trial accordingly took place. We read that it " lasted from nine o'clock in the morning till three- quarters past seven. Mrs. Rudd was neatly dressed, in second mourning.. During her trial she wrote near fifty notes to her counsel, and displayed a most astonishing composure." The trial was a very painful one. Mrs. Robert Perreau was called as a witness for the prosecution ; " and the Counsel, in cross-examining her, were so extremely abrupt that she burst into tears, and was near fainting." Mrs. Rudd, on the other hand, exhibited nmch firmness in her defence : " she avowed her innocence in explicit terms ; said that her life was to be taken to save the Perreaus ; and, turning to the jury, added, 'I have no reliance but on you: q2 228 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. you are honest men, and I am safe in yonr hands.' " A note to Cowper's Reports gives us the information that the jury brouglit in their verdict as follows : " Not guilty, according to the evidence before us ;" which looks very much as if they thought that there might be some matters not before them, as indeed was the fact, — her own confession was not given in evidence. The ' Annual Register' adds, that " There were the loudest applauses on this acquittal almost ever known in a Court of Justice." We are also informed that the avidity of the public to hear her trial was such that the galleries were crowded " soon after daylight." The fact is, that the issue of Mrs. Rudd's trial was thought to involve the ultimate fate of the brothers Perreau, or at least that of Robert ; and the popular fancy had taken the part of the woman as against the men. She seems in some manner to have created great but un- deserved interest in her fate ; and it was said, as Bos- well states, that she either had, or was supposed to have, great power of fascination. Nay, that not only did she thus procure her acquittal, but that by her means the unfortunate Perreaus had been snared into the acts which led to their execution. The woman was however, at the best, infamous enough to have been shunned by persons of ordinary virtue or decency, as we account these qualities nowadays ; but she was 710- torious, and this was enough to excite the anxiety of Boswell to see her and talk to her, that he might talk of her. The remarks of the Doctor himself, above re- ferred to, were probably made in some of his contra- VISITING MRS. IIUDD. 32^ d'ldory moods, for they hardly accord with the morahty AA'hich he so sternly professed and practised. Not- withstanding the contempt which we ought to feel for people who flocked, according to a fashionable Avhim, to associate with a profligate woman, and one not far, if at all, removed from being a murderess, still, as Boswell did go to her, and doubtless had his usual ex- traordinary success in inducing characteristic conver- sation, we cannot help confessing to a desire that the account which he wrote, for the perusal of his wife and his friend's amusement, had been preserved to us The trial of the Perreaus will be found in the Ses- sions Papers of the Old Bailey (May, 1775), but the case was so remarkable that several publications rela- ting to it issued from the press. The title-page of one is " Prudence triumphing over Vanity and Dissipation, in the History of the Life, Character, and Conduct of Mr. Robert and Mr. Daniel Perreau and Mrs. Rudd ; containing an account of everything relating to these Celebrated Personages, their Parentage, Education, Circumstances in Life, and the means by which they brought Ruin, Infamy, and Misery upon themselves: the whole compiled from authentic records, communi- cated to the Editor by a person well known in the literary world." This person " Avell known in the lite- rary world" is probably mythical ; at all events, it is but fair to state here, that the nature of the work is too scandalous and vulgar to admit of any supposition that Mr. Boswell could be the person alluded to under this designation. 230 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. One of the worst features in tlie woman's history is the cruel letter which she wrote, after her own acquit- tal and before the execution of the Perreaus, to Lord Weymouth, urging statements incriminating her late confederate Robert Perreau, and endeavouring thus to cut him off from even the slight hope of a pardon. This letter, it is said, was dictated by a noble Wor- cestershire Lord, to whose house and protection Mrs. Rudd retired immediately upon her acquittal at the Old Bailey. What eventually became of her is not recorded. The visit to Bath, alluded to in the following letter, was productive of valuable fruit for the ' Life of John- son ;' indeed Boswell made good use of his opportuni- ties, during the year 1776, for the purpose of his bio- graphy. He was also, it will be observed, now prac- tising his reporting powers upon General Paoli, in the same way as we have lately seen him employing them on David Hume himself, Paoli proved himself at all times a real friend to Boswell, especially by endea- vouring to wean him from his drinking habits. Poor Boswell was indeed now feeling in his constitution the effects of his excesses during social hours, and he be- came another instance of the great truth which our poet tells us, when he says, — " The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to scourge us." BOS WELL AT BATH. 231 03.] Bath, Simdaij, 2Sth April, 1776. My dear Temple, I am now, for the first time, at this most elegant city, which far exceeds my expectations. I will not attempt a description of it ; I have no pencil for vi- sible objects ; I can only paint the varieties of mind, of V esprit. You, who gave me so good a picture of Mount Edgecumbe, could also describe Bath ; and what would I give to have you here ! It is the finest place on earth for you, for you may enjoy its society and its walks without effort or fatigue, I came down from London on Friday in the stage-chaise, or dili- yamice, as they will call it, and had, by chance, two very agreeable ladies as my companions. I have year after year thought of visiting Bath, and always neg- lected it, and perhaps I should still have put it off had not Dr. Johnson with Mr. and Mrs. Thrale been here. I lie at an inn, and am with them all day. Mr. and Mrs. Thrale were so much afflicted with the loss of their only son that they could not think of going to Italy, so the project is laid aside for this year, to the disappointment of Dr. Johnson, and many a one who wished to look at Italy through his noble intellectual glass. I hope he will go next year. Tomorrow he and I are to visit Bristol, and be back at night. I shall stay one day more here, and get back to London on Wednesday. I must eat Commons in the Inner Temple this week and next, to make out another Term, that I may still be approximating to the English Bar, and the week after 1 must go to Scotland. My two jaunts 232 LETTERS 0¥ BOSWELL. this year from London have not left me time to be with you at Mamhead, which, upon my honour, I re- gret ; for you may be sure that it is the truest happi- ness to me to enjoy the conversation of my most inti- mate fiiend, to walk in serene gaiety of heart and mind with you, and to refresh my best dispositions by social intercourse with you. You and I have attained to the perfection of friendship : we have no competi- tion or vanity mixed with our intercourse. Since you cannot come to London, we must be contented to wait till next year for another meeting ; but let us write more frequently, I shall gladly give all the assistance I can in ushering your volumes into the world. Will you send them up ? I shonld think you had better agree as to one edition, and see how they succeed : but why not put your name to them, since you think they will do you credit, for how can you get credit for what is anonymous ?* The political disquisitions were a collection by a Mr. Burgh, master of an academy at Newington Green, where I have dined with him ; he was a Scotsman, a cousin -german of Dr. Robertson's, the historian, and a discontented Whig; he died not long ago. This collection is much valued by your republican reformers. It is quite adverse to my gentlemanly system. I don't know but you have spoken too highly of Gibbon's book ; the Dean of Derry, who is of our Club as well as Gibbon, talks of answering it. I think it is right * As to what was the proposed publication here referred to, see pp. 239, 24:3, post. vows OF ABSTINENCE, 233 that as fast as infidel wasps or venomous insects, whether creeping or flying, are hatched, they should be crushed. Murphy says he has read thirty pages of Smith's ' Wealth,' but says he shall read no more : Smith too is now of our Club. It has lost its select merit. He is gone to Scotland at the request of David Hume, who is said to be dying. General Paoli had a pretty remark when I told him of this: "Ah ! je suis fache qu'il soit detrompe si tot." I have collected a good many remarkable ' Memorabilia Paoli' this sea- son. My promise under the solemn yew at Mamhead was not religiously kept, because a little wine hurried me on too much. The General has taken my word of honour that I shall not taste fermented liquor for a year, that I may recover sobriety : I have kept this promise now about three weeks ; I was really growing a drunkard. You know my curiosity and love of adventure ; I have got acquainted with the celebrated Mrs. Rudd. 1 was sending an account of this to my wife, but as it appeared to me highly entertaining, I thouglit you should have a reading of it, I therefore send it. Pray take the greatest care of it, and return it to me by the first or second post. You may, if you please, give Lord Listurne a tasting of it— if that be English. Com- pliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to the children. How hard is it that we are so very far separated ! I flatter myself better days are coming. Ever yours, James Boswell. 234 LETTERS OF BOSWEJ-L. 6-i.] London, \iit May, 1776. I thought my letter would go as soon, and be safer, when put into the post-office at London. I was de- lighted with Bath. It was consolatory to see that there was really a place in the world to which one may retire, and be calm, placid, and cheerful : such is my notion of Bath, and I believe it is a general notion. Quin said it was the cradle of age, and a fine slope to the grave. Were I a Baron of the Exchequer, and you a Dean, how well could we pass some time there ! Luckily Dr. Taylor has begged of Dr. Johnson to come to London, to assist him in some interesting business ; and Johnson loves much to be so consulted, and so comes up on Friday and Saturday, and, I hope, will stay till I set out for Scotland. I am now at Ge- neral Paoli's, quite easy and gay, after my journey; not wearied in body, or dissipated in mind. I have lodgings in Gerrard Street, Soho, where cards are left to me ; but I lie at the General's, wJiose attention to me is beautiful. I am going to sup with Lord Mount- stuart, my IMsecenas. You know how I delight in patronage. j\Iy intimacy with Mrs. Stuart is friend- ship, sister indeed to love, but such as I can never look foolish when her husband comes in, who perfectly understands us, and is happy that she is agreeably en- tertained when he is at his Clubs. I will give you another late saying of Paoli's : " The wound," said he, " given to the Devonshire family has occasioned much disturbance ; the Court would willingly cover it with A SAYING OF PAOLl's. 235 a ribbon of any colour." Perhaps the adventure with Mrs. Rudd is very fooUsh, notwithstanding Dr. John- son's approbation : judge, then, if you should mention it to Lord L. : is he not to be here ? Direct to the care of Messrs. Dilly. I shall be impatient till I get back Mrs. Rudd. Strahan and Cadell may perhaps be the best treaters for such vo- lumes as you mention ; be assured of my attentive exertion about them. My heart is vexed that we do not meet this season. To the " friendship " which Boswell above speaks of he has referred in his ' Boswelliana' with curious taste ; he narrates that " Lord Mountstuart said it was ob- served I was like Charles Fox, Colonel J. Stuart said, Avith his usual drollery, ' You are much uglier.' I turned to him, full as sly and as droll, ' Does your wife think so, Colonel James ?' " But it is added, that in this relort less Avas meant than met the ear. 230 CHAPTER XL 1776-1779. INTERVAL IN THE COBRESPONDENCE. TEMPLE's CIRCUMSTANCES. DR. JOHNSON CONFIRMS BOSWELL IN HIS TORYISM. A YOUNG AVIDOAV. LOUTH.— SIR ALEXANDER DICK's BRITISH GEORGIC. ^DR. Armstrong's description of gibbon. — temple's BOOK AND CHARACTER CRITICIZED. LETTER FROM A FRIEND TO TEMPLE. The next few years were, liappily, fertile of material for the ' Biography of Johnson,' but prove barren in respect of letters belonging to the present collection. We see from the former work that Boswell, during this time, enjoyed opportunities of visiting London and disporting himself in English society, to his intense delight. The date of the next letter is May, 1779. 65.] London, ^Ist May, 1779. My dear Temple, Had you been in London a week ago, you would have seen your friend sadly changed for a httle. So trifling a matter as letting the nails of my great toes grow into the flesh, particularly in one foot, produced so much pain and inflammation and lameness and apprehension, that 1 was confined to bed, and my >:^7 ILLNESS OF BOSWELL 8 FATHER. 23 spirits sank to dreary dejection ; however this gave me leisure to finish completely the reading of your book. I am now much better, but still unable to walk ; and, having received a very wise letter from my dear, sensible, valuable wife, that although my father is in no immediate danger, his indisposition is such that I ought to be with him, I have resolved to set out tomorrow, being the very first day after completing another term at the Temple. I am sitting comfortably at Mr. Dilly's. The three letters which I have had the pleasure to receive from you, during my present visit to London, are lying before me ; I have marked the heads, as you advise, upon a slip of paper, and, I trust, shall omit no article or particular to which you wish me to attend. It gives me much satisfaction to understand that your circumstances, as the phrase is, are so good, — £6000 fund, and only £1200 debt, so you have £4800 clear; i. e., at 5 per cent., £240 a year, which, with your living, makes better than £500 a year. Living in Cornwall, you may certainly save handsomely every year, so as to increase your fortune ; but do not delay turning your land into money as soon as you can. You must not on any account waver as to your north- ern jaunt ; for it would be sad indeed, if I were dis- appointed in meeting you this year, after so long a separation. You and I and worthy Johnston will walk in the King's Park, and have all the good ideas we have ever possessed agreeably revived. Is it not curi- ous that at times we arc in so happy a frame that not 23S LETTERS OE BOS WELL. the least trace of former misery or vexation is left upon the mind ? but is not the contrary, too, experienced ? Gracious Author of our being, do thou bring us at length to steady felicity ! What a strange, complicated scene is this life ! It always strikes me that we can- not seriously, closely, and clearly examine almost any part of it. We are at pains to bring up children, just to give them an opportunity of struggling through cares and fatigues ; but let us hope for gleams of joy here, and a blaze hereafter.* Let us not dispute any more about political notions. It is now night. Dr. Johnson has dined, drunk tea, and supped with only Mr. Charles Dilly and me, and I am confirmed in my Toryism ; what is more, I am happy in my good old principles, could but that sad necessary shock, the Revolution, be forgotten. I know not if Lord Hailes's second vohime be yet ordered for you. I shall deliver your book to him, and see to your getting his. Mr. Burke told me he had not received your book, yet it was certainly de- livered to his old housekeeper. He asked me if it had merit • I said it had learning and elegance of expres- sion, and a great deal about liberty, which he would like, but which I did not like.f He said he would * A somewhat ambiguous prayer, but doubtless it is to a blaze of joy tbe wTiter was aspiring. t Mr. Boswell here seems to forget a certain cap of his, with tlie inscription " Paoli and Liberty." What the book above refen-ed to is, is not certain : but probably it was either the ' Selection of Historical and Political Memoirs,' or the ' Historical Essay on the Abuse of Unrestrained Power,' which was published iu 1778. MR. temple's book. 239 read it, which is a compHraent he does not often pay to a book ; I have therefore ordered another copy to be sent to him, with a card from me, to remind him. It is an erroneous report that he wrote the ' European Settlements ;' he told me he did not ; a friend of his did, and he revised. 1st May, 1779, Soutldll, Bedfordshire. I began this letter at the literary head-quarters in the Poultry : I am now at Southill, to which place Mr. Charles DilJy has accompanied ; it is the house of Squire John Dilly, his elder brother. The family of Dilly have been land-proprietors in this county for two hundred years, but have lately changed their ancient inheritance, lying in the midst of Lord Torrington's estate, for another estate belonging to his Lordship. There were also certain ' Essays, Moral and Literary ' (8vo, Dilly) published in 1777, which might be suggested as the probable work of Mr. Temple. Certain political discussions are interspersed in these Essays, which may be the passages which excited Boswell's ob- servations upon his con-espondent's aptitude for such matters. In the ' London Magazine ' for December, 1777, of which we have seen Boswell says he was a proprietor, there is a review of these ' Essays' Moral and Literary,' which are described, in a style somewhat fami- liar to the reader of Boswell's Letters, as " an agreeable collection of ingenious, concise essays, on a great variety of usefid subjects, by some unknown writer, who seems to be well acquainted with the world, and yet unspoiled by the degeneracy of manners which at present universally prevails ; he draws his maxims from the scliools of wisdom and virtue, and sends them forth in search of literary fame, which we think they must acquire from the judicious and sober part of mankind." The same Work is reviewed witli praise in the ' Gentleman's Magazine,' December, 1777. 240 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. I am quite the great man here, and am to go for- ward on the North road tomorrow morning. Poor Mr. Edward Dilly is fast a-dying; he cried with affec- tion at seeing me here ; he is in as agreeable a frame as any Christian can be ; repeats the second paragraph of Dr. Young's second Night, " Why start at death," etc., and another passage, "Death, a subterraneous road to bUss," or some such words. I am edified here. Neiccastle-upon-Tyne, Stk May, 1779. I got into the fly at Buckden, and had a very good journey. An agreeable young widow nursed me, and supported my lame foot on her knee. Am I not for- tunate in hamng something about me that interests most peojjle at first sight in my favour ? I am to rest here till IMonday, when I hope to get home to my wife and children. I never wished so warmly to see them again as I do at present. What a pleasing attraction after quitting London ! You ask me about Lowth's ' Isaiah ; ' I never once heard it mentioned till I asked Dr. Johnson about it, who said he could give no opinion about it himself, as he had not read it, but he was told it was a great work for those that love that kind of learning. The second edition is not in octavo, so you had better wait. I do not think Lowtli an engaging man ; I sat a good while with him this last spring. He said Dr. Johnson had great genius. I give you this as a specimen of his talk, which seemed to me to be neither discriminating, pointed, nor animated ; yet he certainly has much cu- dick's BRTilSH GEORGIC REVIEWED. .241 rious learning, and a good deal of critical sagacity. I put into his hands, at Sir Alexander Dick's desire, the first Book of a British Georgic, which the worthy and amiable Knight has been for some time past (after seventy-three) amusing himself in composing ; it is blank-verse precepts [I am now writing, or rather going to write, at Newcastle, Sunday, 9th May] — on agriculture and gardening, interspersed with political reflections and complimentary characters. You cannot imagine how fond he is of this work. There are in it very good things, and sometimes tolerable lines, but he really is not a poet. He said that for some time he intended it only for his son and a few friends, but I have perceived the wish of publication gradually springing from the root, which has, I take it, been all along in his mind ; he even desired I should show it to Strahan, which was a strong indication of what he flattered himself would be encouraged by his friends. I evaded his inclination, laying hold of what he de- clared as to his intending his Georgic only for his son and his descendants, and telling him that to show it to Strahan, who, as poor Garrick said, was an obtuse man, would be like showing family furniture to an auc- tioneer, and that the critical remarks of Lowth would be quite sufficient. Lady Dick was very uneasy lest he should publish it ; last year I left a part of it with Dr. Armstrong. I was curious to see how he would bring himself off' with Sir Alexander, in giving his opi- nion of what his friend exhibited to hirn as poetry, but which he knew not to come under that species of com- R 242 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. position. He did very well ; he wrote. It has the best part of poetry, " good sense, without which all poetry is little better than nonsense; but I wish you would give us something de temper amentis, for which you must have made collections." Here he made a fine transi- tion to Sir Alexander's skill in physic, not acknow- ledging however in his friend what he states in his poem en healfn, — " One power of ptysic, melody, and song." The Bishop of London is in a scrape. I doubt if he will se tirer a affaire as cleverly as Amistrong did. " I laugh to think how your unshaken Cato WiU stand aghast while unexpected prosing Pours in upon him." Dr. Johnson had not heard of Pearce's Sermons, which I wondered at, considering that he wrote all the Life published by the Chaplain Derby, except what his Lordship wrote himself. I daresay you may buy any performance by Pearce, without any recommendation, and be pretty sure of being pleased. I have not looked at Gibbon's defence, and I hear nothing of the publication of his second volume. He is an ugly, af- fected, disgusting fellow, and poisons our literary Club to me. I did not know Monboddo's new book, ' The Metaphysics of the Ancients,' had been advertised. I expect it will be found to be a very wonderful perform- ance. I think I gathered from a conversation with him, that he believes the ' Metempsychosis.' Voltaire ! Rousseau ! I don't hear of new editions of them. , Yom' gentle reproof for not answering your letters temple's capacity as author. 243 exactly, I feel to be very just. I think Dr. Johnson never answered but three of ray letters,* though I have had numerous returns from him. Have I not now answered all yours to which I was indebted ? As to your book, now that I have read it over, I must candidly tell you that I think you should not puzzle yourself with political specidations more than I do ;t neither of us is fit for that sort of mental la- bour. Mind your health, yoiu* temper, your fortune, your wdfe and children, and, above all, your duties as a clergyman. But public matters will be better con- ducted, or at least as well as we can suggest. Your letters to me, and your cursory remarks on authors in the Green Book, are in my opinion so much better than the College-like sentences your book contains, that I have a fresh proof how very few of those who have good parts are fit for the study, far less the prac- tice, of government. You are an agreeable companion in a postchaise, but by no means fit to be a driver. We should cultivate the excellent principle of submis- sion for the Lord's sake. . . . . j * This comparison here to be inferred seems to run somewhat thus : — Temple : Boswell : : Boswell : Johnson ; not a very flatter- ing position for Mr. Temple ! That part of the letter too which contains criticisms and advice to Temple is conceived very much in the Johnsonian style, and resembles in some parts the advice which his revered friend sometimes preached to Boswell for his edification. f See ante, p. 239, note. X The rest of the letter is missing ; but, judging from the com- mencement of this passage preserved here, the loss need not render the Keader inconsolable. R 2 244 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. The following letter, whicli altliongh not from Bos- well's pen, had been preserved in the present collection, may be properly here inserted, especially as it refers to Boswell, and contains a genuine tribute to his cha- racter. Prom a Friend to Mr. Temple. At tlie Earl of Mndlater^s, Cullen House, Scotland, ^rd November, 1779. I have been negligent, my dear Temple, but not forgetful of you ; Boswell has, I hope, told you so long ago. The journey hither was performed so slow, that, though we left London 4th August, we did not arrive here till 21st September. You know the Coldstream road to Edinburgh, the nakedness of the Borders, and the fine situation of the capital of Scotland, with the richness and beauty of its environs. I saw Boswell several times : his friendly, obliging disposition atones for all that is not quite as one would wish in him ; he showed me (not ostentatiously, but at my desire) some letters of his friend Dr. Johnson, which do the Doctor more honour, in my opinion, than any of his writings ; for they prove that, whatever ruggedness, or even bru- tality there may be in his manners, he possesses a warm and good heart, capable of receiving and retaining the most lively impressions of friendship. That which he has for Boswell is as tender as it is sincere. I saw likewise, half-an-hour, at his own house, Dr. Robert- son. It is impossible to judge properly of a nervous man, who talks broad Scotch, from such an interview, DR. ROBERTSON. 245 especially as I must confess I took a little prejudice against him for blaming Mason's publication, for not seeming to relish Gray's letters, and for saying that, when he saw Mr. Gray in Scotland, he gave him the idea of a person who meant to pass for a very fine gentleman. Except this, which was not quite polite to me, he was very much so. He said he had written one hundred and fifty more pages of the ' History of America,' when the present disturbances stopped his pen. I am told that he shines most in his public speeches. When a sour and a blind zeal, which is wonderful even in Scotland in this age, opposed and defeated the reasonable mitigation of laws, dictated by bigotry against the Catholics, he, I am told, distin- guished himself by pronouncing a very fine oration in their favour, in the General Assembly, at the peril of his life, for his house was afterwards beset by the de- luded and furious mob. From Edinburgh we went to Hopton House, a proper summer palace for a King of Scotland, if there were one, situated on the edge of the Frith of Forth, whose glittering tide divides it from a landscape of towns, villages, country-houses, wood, and farms, held up to view on a rising coast. [Here some local de- scription follows, which may be omitted : he refers also to Mr. Henry (Lord) Kaimes's skill in making fruitful land out of morass. Of the owner he thus speaks.] He himself has, at eighty-three, the vivacity of twenty-three, and can walk seven miles without fatigue. He is. entertaining, good-humoured, and possessed of 246 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. an infinite variety of knowledge, which he produces in a flighty manner, entirely unlike the dull prose of most of his countrymen. If you pardon my long silence, and wish to have a slight account of the rest of our journey, and of this place, do me the pleasm-e of telling me so, and I pro- mise you your letter shall not remain long unanswered. Adieu for the present, and believe me to be unalterably Yours, N. N. R.* * The name of the writer of this letter is not known. 247 CHAPTER XII. 1780-1781. JOURNEY TO EDINBURGH. — DEAN SMITH. — MR. FALCONER. — STAY AT CHESTER. LORD MONBODDO's METAPHYSICS. BOSWELL's POSITION AND DIFFICULTIES. BISHOP HURD. HAPPINESS AND KNOWLEDGE. DAVID BOSWELL. HIS CHA- RACTER. — SPECULATIONS ON HUMAN MISERY AND PERSONAL PROSPECTS. NICHOLS M'LAURIN. STORY OF AN ORDINATION IN THE LAST CENTURY. — ARCHBISHOP DRUMMOND. DR. BOS- WELL. 66.] Edinburgh, 4ith January, 1780. My dear Temple, Again an unaccountable cessation of our correspon- dence ! but it would be foolish to employ a single sen- tence about such a mental defaillance as both of us have so often experienced. From London, after an excellent fortnight there, I accompanied Colonel Stuart to Chester, to which town his regiment was ordered from Leeds, and there I passed another fortnight in mortal felicity. I had from my earliest years a love for the military life, and there is in it an animation and relish of existence which I have never found amongst any other set of men, except players, with whom you know I once 248 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. lived a great deal. At the Mess of Colonel Stuart's regi- ment I was quite the great man, as we used to say ; and I was at the same time all joyous and gay. Such was my home at Chester. But I had the good for- tune to be known to the Bishop, who is one of the most distinguished prelates for piety and eloquence, and one of the most pleasing men in social life, that you. can imagine. His palace was open to me, morn- ing, noon, and night ; and I was liberally entertained at his hospitable board. At Chester too I found Dean Smith, the translator of Longinus, with whom you and I were so well acquainted, when we were study- ing under Mr. John Stevenson. I was sm'prised to find him, for I somehow had imagined that he was an ancient English author, comparatively speaking. He is very old, but is quite cheerful and full of anecdotes. He lives very retired, with a disagreeable wife, and they told me I was the only man who had been in the deanery for a long time. I found too at Chester Mr. Falconer, a gentleman of fortune and extraordinary learning and know^ledge, who is preparing a new edi- tion of Strabo, at the desire of the University of Oxford : he was exceedingly obliging to me. But I must not give you a transcript of my Chester Joiumal, which contains one of the most agreeable portions of my existence. The curiosity of the town itself, and the beauty of its environs, entertained me. It is the winter residence of a great many genteel families. It has a Theatre Royal and a very elegant Assembly- room. I never found myself so well received any- DISAPPOINTED AMBITION. 249 where. The young ladies there were dehghtful, and many of them with capital fortunes. Had I been a bachelor, I should have certainly paid my addresses to a Chester lady. Since my return home, I was seized with a severe cold, which was very general here, and was confined some days to bed, and a week to the house. Your last letter was a comfort to me in my indisposition ; and indeed I should have sooner acknowledged the favour. I have been all this Session troubled with lameness, from an inconsiderable cause, the nail of one of my great toes having grown into the flesh and in- flamed it. I am at present confined by it, our first surgeon having undertaken to cure. I wish I could give you any satisfactory account of my studies. I have done Kttle at Greek. Lord Moii- boddo's ' Ancient Metaphysics,' which I am reading carefully, helps me to recover the language ; but he is not an agreeable writer. His conversation is full of learning, but by much too odd and positive and acharne against modern manners. I really think my ' Hypochondriac'* goes on wonderfully well. But how inconsiderable are both you and I, in comparison with what we used to hope we should be ! Yet your learning and your memoirs set you far above the common run of educated men. And Son pittore anche io. I too, in several respects, have attained to supe- * Essays piiblislicd in tlu; ' Ijondoii Ma^'iiziiic' midcr this tiilf, and which have been referred to elsewhere in enunieratinj^ lioswell's works. 250 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. riority. But we both want solidity and force of mind, sucli as we observe in those who rise in active life. My mind is at present in a state of tranquillity, or rather good insensibility. I have neither elevation nor gaiety ; but I am easy. • My father was this winter seized with a fever : his pulse was at ninety-five, and he was in danger ; but he has recovered wonderfully, and is now as well as he has been for several years. But he is sadly influenced by his second wife ; and I cannot interfere, however galling it is to see him estranged from me and my family. My wife's nephews stood so much in need of my assistance, that T have advanced between seven and eight hundi'ed pounds for them, which I have bor- rowed at five per cent. A demand is now made upon me which I must answer in February ; and I must by no means inform my father. May I beg of you, my dearest friend, to remit me £200, for which I will send you my Bill. Pray do it, if you possibly can, for I am sadly put to it. If you can lodge a credit for me in London, it will do. I am sure, from our mutual con- fidence, you will do what you can ; and pray write by return of post. I shall soon write to you again. Ever yours most warmly, J. B. 67.] Auchinleck, Srd Septetidier, n SO. My dear Temple, To bed I will not go tonight till I have written to you, — if not a whole letter, at least a good part of one ; INDISPOSITION FOR STUDY. 251 for indeed it is with wonder and regret that I think of so many days having elapsed without my thanking you for your two letters, after your return from your jaunt of disappointment. What unaccountable indo- lence seizes me at times ! We put off from day to day the writing to a most intimate friend, yet in the midst of all this procrastination how much do we do that might be left undone. I was much disappointed that you did not come to me last summer, as I expected, and worthy Johnston joined with me ; but by the accounts which you give, I must pity you for the uneasiness which you have suffered. Well can I figure, my dear friend, your restlessness and vexation, first in London and then in Cambridge. But I cannot help thinking you in the wrong, when you complain that you could not study in London ; for in my opinion a man may pursue any literary inquiry there with the utmost advantage in every respect. In London I suppose we raay find every book that can be found anywhere,* and one is as much master of his time there as it is possible to be ; so that I conclude your not studying in London was owing to some indisposition in your mind or body. Your want of modern books at Cambridge was a real hindrance. Often do I upbraid and look down upon myself, when, in contemplation of the heights of learning to which one may attain, I view * Alas ! three-quarters of a eeutury since this was written, the search for Mr. Temple's publications at the Jiritish Museum has proved vain. 252 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. iny own inferiority, and think how much many others, and amongst them you, Temple, are above me. Yet on the other hand, Avhen I consider what vexations yon suffer, from which I am free, I am inchned to quiet myself. " Much study is a weariness to the flesh," says the wise man ; now, if there is on the whole more pain than pleasure in advancing far hito literature, would you advise me to do it ? I am glad that you had tw^o agreeable interviews with Hurd ; but I do not understand that you dined with him. Should not a Bishop be given to hospi- tality ? I hope to see your journal that you kept ; you shall see all my volumes when you come to Scot- land- Let us resolve that, if God is pleased to allow us life and health, Ave shall without fail have a meet- ing in Loudon next Spring. I am sorry that, like my- self, you have not the art of economy, so as to be laying up something handsome every year, when your income is, as I suppose, £500 a year. All I shall say as to your small debt to me is, that a remittance of it to me in my present situation, whenever you can easily spare the money, would be an aid. Now, Temple, take care, I am not dunning you ; I am writing with a candid frankness to my most intimate friend, who, when his fortune was diminished by his generosity to his father, offered to let me have a loan of £1000 to purchase a Commission in the Guards. Oh, my friend ! let there never be the least reserve or pos- sibility of misunderstanding between us. And now good night ! ADVANTAGES OF KNOWLEDGE. 253 4M September. — I am just got up, and offered up my prayers to God, and read a chapter of the New Testament ; I resume my letter to you. Drowsiness has hung heavy upon me last night, when I was will- ing to suppose more pain than pleasure in advancing far into literature. Men of delicate nerves may at times suffer from their knowledge, but they would suffer from something else, and even their enjoyments from knowledge counterbalance their sufferings. And it is to be hoped that a period is coming when they will have a more full relish of their intellectual acqui- sitions. And men of sound and vigorous minds have high satisfaction in their knowledge. Dr. Johnson maintains that a man is truly happy in proportion to his knowledge. I myself, who know so little, can judge from experience of the pleasure of knowledge from what I do know. What must be the pleasure of some men, whose enlarged minds and retentive me- mories possess large extensive funds of various know- ledge, provided they have vivacity enough to enjoy it ! Edinburgh, November 3, 1780. Only think, my dear friend, of this letter's being begun on the 8rd of September, continued a little on the 4th of that month, and now going to be concluded (as I hope at least it will) on the 3rd of November ; so that it has lain and travelled in its imperfect state, or rather its incipient state, two months all but one day. I know you will forgive this, though you must regret it, as I do most sincerely. 254 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. My brother arrived at Edinburgh on the 12th June, and lodged in my house. We went to Auchinleck in August, and were four weeks there with our father. David and I then returned to Edinburgh, where he staid with us a few days, after which he went to Lon- don, and is now setthng himself there as a merchant and banker. He is a sensible, intelligent, accurate man, very formal and very prudent ; in short, as dif- ferent from me in his manner, and in his general way of thinking, as you can suppose. But I trust he is a man of good principles. He was very happy in the romantic scenes of Auchinleck, and he thinks highly of London ; but he is steady to business and his own interest, and no amusement wiU divert him from essential advantage. I hope he will do well in London. He says he will probably never make a great fortune, because he will not be adventurous ; but he will get what he can by assiduity and economy. He told me that soon after settling in Spain he gave up all philosophizing, and applied himself to real business. He says he found out that men who speculate on life, as you and I do, are not successful in substantial con- cerns. He is in the right, I am afraid. If you have money matters to transact in London, I beg you may employ him. Write to him, under cover, to Dilly, till he gives you an address. The subject of speculating brings to ray mind the difficulty, never to be resolved in this state of being, which you mention in the first of your two letters before me. Could not infinite wisdom and goodness INCOME AND EXPENDITURE. 255 have made us less miserable, if not more happy ? We must be content to "Wait the great teacher, Death, and God adore !" It is to me clear, a priori, that your question may be answered in the affirmative, supposing us to be such machines as the fatalists mention ; but as I think it nobler to be a free agent, struggling as we must from some sad, mysterious causes, I comfort myself with the Christian revelation of our being in a state of purification, and that we shall in course of time attain to felicity. It is delightful. Temple, to look forward to the period when you and I shall en- joy what we now imagine. In the meantime let us be patient, and do what good we can. I could not help smiling at the expostulation which you suggest to me, to try with my father. It would do admirably with some fathers ; but it would make mine much worse, for he cannot bear that his son should talk with him as a man. I can only lament his unmelting coldness to my wife and children, for I fear it is hopeless to think of his ever being more affec- tionate towards them. Yet it must be acknowledged .that his paying £1000 of my debt some years ago was a large bounty. He allows me £300 a year. But I find that what I gain by my practice and that sum together will not support my family. I have now two sons and three daughters. I am in hopes that my father will augment my allowance to £400 a year. I was indeed very imprudent in expressing my extreme aversion to his second marriage ; but since it took 256 LETTERS or BO SWELL. place, I am conscious of having behaved to himself and his lady with such respectful attention and im- posed such a restraint upon myself, as is truly me- ritorious. The woman is very implacable, and I imagine it is hardly possible that she can ever be my friend : she however behaves much better to the chil- dren tlian their grandfather does. We are all to dine at my father's today : he is better now than he has been for several years. Your counsel to me to set my mind at rest, and be content with promotion in Scotland, is, I believe, very wise. My brother David enforced it earnestly. If my father lives a few years longer, age will, I suppose, fix me here without any question ; for to embark in a new sphere, when one is much after forty, is not advis- able. Yet, my dear Temple, ambition to be in Par- liament, or in the Metropolis, is very allowable. Per- haps my exalted notions of public situation are falla- cious ; for I begin to think that true elevation is to be acquired from study and thinking, and that when one is used to the most eminent situations they become familiar and insipid, and perhaps vexatious. David says, my chief object should be the augmenting, im- proving, and beautifying Auchinleck ; and that I may do all that to more advantage by having a smaller in- come in Scotland than a larger in London. We must see what time will present. There is a fine fame in being distinguished in London, were it only in literary society as I am ; and I could educate my children to great advantage there. What are your studies at pre- CLERICAL IMPROPRIETIES. 257 sent? What are you writing? I must again and again renew my wish for the pubhcation of your Green Book. It must no doubt have many additions since I saw it. Short, elegant characters of books are to me most engaging, next to characters of men, and yours pleased me exceedingly. Nichols was some days here, on his way home. His foppery is unbecoming in a clergyman. But I was really much offended with him one night, when he supped with me. M'Laurin, who, I fear, is an infidel, was the only other person in company. Nichols gave a ludicrous account of his ordination, said he applied to the Archbishop of York (Drummond), who asked him what books he had read on divinity. " Why truly, my Lord," said he, " I must tell you frankly, — none at all, though I have read other books enough." " Very well," said the Archbishop, " I '11 give you a letter to one who will examine you properly." Ac- cordingly he got a letter to a clergyman in London, who examined him ; and, to cut short this disagreeable story, Nichols said that he did not well understand what was meant, when desired to write on the neces- sity of a Mediator ; that he wrote some strange stuff, as fast as he would do a card to a lady ; and that he had never read the Greek New Testament. He made a very profane farce of the whole. M'Laurin laughed exceedingly. I could only be grave ; for if I had ar- gued on the impropriety of the story, the matter would have been made worse, while they were two to one. Now, my dear friend, 1 do not believe, in the first 258 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. place, that the Archbishop woukl be so shamefully unfaithful to his awful trust. If he had been so, it was dishouom'able in Nichols to tell. Upon either supposition Nichols was avowing himself a cheat. Neither could it be true that he was so grossly igno- rant as he alleged he was. T shall never receive lum again into my house. What I have now told you hap- pened on a Saturday night. I called on him next day to have talked to him of it, but did not find him. I sent on Monday morning to know if he was gone, that I might still see ; he was just stepping into the post- chaise to set out for his Living. Perhaps it was as well that I did not see him. You know I speak pretty strongly. And why should I take any concern about him ? It pleases me that you express concern for the death of my poor uncle, Dr. Boswell. He was a very good scholar, knew a great many things, had an elegant taste, and was very affectionate ; but he had no con- duct. His money was aU gone. And, do you know, he was not confined to one woman. He had a strange kind of religion ; but I flatter myself he will be ere long, if he is not already, in Heaven. The state of the nation is indeed wretched, nor do I see any prospect of om* being better. It is shocking to think that a new Parliament is retiu'ned, which wiU be as subservient to Ministry as the last. I agree with you sincerely, my friend, that it woidd be better to be a Lord of Session, with an unblemished character, than a Peer and Lord Chief Justice by such means as HYPOCHONDRIA OR HYPOCRISY. 259 these promotions have been attamed. I would not have been one of those who rejected the petitions from America, — no, not for half the British Empire. Yet I am a Tory still, for I distinguish between our limited Monarch and a despotic Ministry. I again can only express hopes of studying. I would fain recover Greek, or indeed learn it, for I never had much. Our Session approaches : I shall then be harassed with unimportant business. Qui Jit McBcenas must ever occur to us. I should think you might be very happy with so good an income, the sacred duties of your profession, and the studies which you can follow with so much success. I enjoyed ex- traordinary good spirits till yesterday. I am afraid a fit of hypochondria is come, and that it may last sonie time.* Pray let me hear from you oftener. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to your young family. Let us be pleased we are both very well. So adieu ! Most affectionately yours, J. B. * The reader will perhaps recollect a letter of Dr. Johnson's to- Boswell (March 14th, 1787) which he printed in the Life, and where the Doctor says, " I hoped you had got rid of all the hypocrisy of misei-y," and denounces his "affectation of distress." However it is by no means improbable, as has been mentioned in the In- troduction to this Volume, though Dr. Johnson refused to credit it, that, if not constitutionally disposed to hypochondria, yet after drinking and excessive excitement BosweU was subject to great de- pression, which, as was natural to him, he paraded as an impor- tant constitutional phenomenon, and elevated to the dignity of hy- pochondria. S 2 260 CHAPTER XIII. 1781-1789. INTERVAL IN CORRESPONBENCE. — DEATH OF BOSWELL's FATHER. — boswell in difficulties. — death of dr. johnson. — 'tour to the hebrides.' — boswell comes to london. borrows money.- — ^a companion and governess in 1788. Christ's hospital. — 'life of johnson.' — dissipation and DESPONDENCY. ILLNESS OF BOSWELL's WIFE. TAKES AHOUSE IN QUEEN ANNE STREET WEST. NO PROSPECT AT WESTMIN- STER HALL.- — MALONe's ASSISTANCE. — ARCHBISHOP's DINNER TO JUDGES AND COUNSEL. BECOMES CANDIDATE FOR HIS COUNTY. From the 3rd of September 1780, to the 5th of January 1787, no further letters have been preserved. During this interval several important events affecting Mr. Bos- weU occurred. One of these was the death of his father, in the year 1782. Upon this occasion it was that, WTiting to Boswell, Dr. Johnson made the distinction between a kind and fond father. " Kindness, at least actual, is in oiu* power, but fondness is not ; and if by negligence or imprudence you had extinguished his fondness, he could not at wiU rekindle it. Nothing then remained between you but mutual forgiveness of each other's faults, and mutual desii-e of each other's DEATH OF DR. JOHNSON. 261 happiness." He adds also a very valuable suggestion — unfortunately useless — that it should now be Mr. Boswell's "first care not to be in any man's debt." In December of the year 1784 died Dr. Johnson, who, notwithstanding many other idolatries to which Boswell addicted himself from time to time, remained the chief object of his worship. Henceforth, instead of collecting materials, Boswell began to prepare them for publication, — a labour requiring great industry, which indeed, in spite of failing health, he freely exer- cised. The very following year (1785) his first expe- riment on the Biography was tried, and he published the 'Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides,' which we have seen he had long been anxious to give to the public ; and thus commenced the permanent associa- tion of his name with that of Dr. Johnson. He was able now to carry out another great object of his ambition, that of coming to London to enrol himself at the Enghsh Bar. As we shall presently see, however, this step did not aid him in making the figure he had hoped.* Boswell also entered into political strife in 1789, and proposed to enter into a contest for the represen- tation of " his County." He did not however succeed in gaining the object of his ambition. 68.] London, hth January, 1787. My dear Temple, By what channel I know not, farther than the penny- * See Letter, /josi^, p. 304 ; January 10th, 1789. 262 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. post, I received this morning, before I got out of bed, your last very affecting letter. Business called me into the City, and I returned with intention to write to you : but Sir Joshua Reynolds has, I find, invited me to dine at his house at four, with the Laureate, who is just come to town, and I cannot resist ; so I can only assure you of my sincerest sympathy and prayers, ineffectual as I may fear they are. I have regretted that I was not ac- quainted with my amiable godson. Perhaps I should noio be thankful ; yet when my mind is firm, as it is at present, I feel a solid confidence in the Divine wis- dom, with a humble waiting "for the great teacher, Death." You shall hear from me soon again ; and I beg you may write frequently, under cover of Mr. Courtenay. Be comforted, my old and most intimate friend, with pious hope, and be assm^ed of the unceasing and warm regard of your truly affectionate James Boswel A prophecy that the forthcoming Life of Johnson should be the most perfect piece of biography which the world has seen is boldly made by Boswell in the following letter, and time has seen it fulfilled. 69.] London, Sunday, 24ctcd with the disputation. T 2 276 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. cannot relish the Coahtion, especially that worthless minister, Lord North, Nous verrons. Let me know when you are to be in town ; re- member it will not be possible to bear another disap- pointment. Lord EHot is vastly well ; we have dined together several times at the Literary Club, at Sir Joshua's, and at Mr. Metcalfe's. Why does not his Lordship keep house here ? I am told that, like my- self, though living in company, he is subject to de- pression of spu'its, which makes any task, even that of entertainment of one's friends, a burden. I have had only one splendid dinner in my small house here, the Bishop of Killaloe, Sir Joshua, Windham, etc. etc. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to the children. Ever most affectionately yours, J. B. 72.] London, \Qth March, 1789. My dear Temple, David has found a Bipontine Ammianus Marcel- linus, in two volumes, but without notes. Let him know if he should buy it for you. Since I wrote last, I have had two letters from my wife, which gave me rather better hopes; but by a letter which I have today from a relation, she is cer- tainly very ill, having a severe cough, sweatings, and swelled legs. She has indeed had all these alarming symptoms before, and has recovered ; but frequent re- lapses make her situation more dangerous. I wait ILLNESS OF MRS. BOSVVELL. 277 with anxiety for a letter from a physician to whom I have written to see her, as if on a visit of compUment (for she will not have one to attend her, thinking it of no use), and to send me a fair, explicit report. If he thinks her in immediate danger, I will go down di- rectly, and take Veronica with me, and perhaps the two boys also, that she may be soothed with all the comfort they can give her, which she surely deserves, as she has been the most affectionate mother. You will perceive in what a state of mind I must be at present. Yet, as London is the best place when one is happy, it is equally so when one is the reverse ; for the power of being at once wrapped up in undisturbed privacy, by not being personally known, and having an influx of various ideas, by being in the midst of multitudes, cannot fail to dissipate many a cloud which would thicken and augment and press upon the spirits in the country, or in a narrower place. This day, for instance, I shall rove about the cities of Lon- don and Westminster in the evening to contemplate the illuminations on his Majesty's recovery. General Paoli kindly entertains me and Veronica and my sons, and honest David, at dinner, and we shall thus be enlivened. Is it not true philosophy, my friend, to procure as much happiness, to make as much honey in life, as we can? I mean, in consistency with all duties. Should I be obliged to go to Scotland, you must delay your visit to town till I can meet you. An in- terview after so long an absence will be very valuable. 278 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. The General's carriage is to be here soon, so I must hasten to dress. I shall soon write to you as to the particulars in your last letters. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple. Long may she be a comfort to you ! Love to your family. I am ever Most affectionately yours, J. B. 73.] London, Uh March, 1789. My dear Temple, For some days past I have been in such an anxious and distracted state, by the sad accounts that came to nie of my wife's having had repeated returns of her distressing complaint, that I have not been able to answer your two last letters, for I had resolved to set out instantly for Auchinleck. Another letter from her, and one from my second daughter, wiio is with her, have made me a little easier, and I wait for fm'ther accounts, having written to her physician in the coun- try to send me a fair and explicit state. It vexes me to think that I should appear neglectful of so valuable and affectionate a wife and mother, by being here ; but God knows how sincerely and tenderly I regard her. The asthmatic complaints with which she is afflicted made it advisable for her to pass this winter in the country. I could not stay there without stopping what has ah'eady been delayed too long, — the comple- tion of my 'Life of Johnson,' and taking myself out FOREIGN CONTEMPORAHY LITERATURE. 279 of the great wheel of the Metropolis, from which 1 do hope that in time I shall have a capital prize. Whatever then I at times may feel, my reason ac- quits me from any blame in this separation. Comfort and encourage me, my dear friend : you do it better than anybody. In your last long letter, you have poured balm upon my sore mind. I indeed must ac- knowledge that, owing to the melancholy which ever lurks about me, I am too dissipated, and drink too much wine. These circumstances I must restrain, as well as I can. This is to be a short letter, of which you will be so good as to accept, till I am more at leisure and more calm. I never look at the foreign publications, which I am sensible is wrong. Courtenay knows them all, I think. ' Florier' is not worth your buying, nor 'Joseph.' In- deed all your ' Abels,' and such works, I should guess are fit only for milk-and-water minds. Barthelemy's 'Voyage en Grece,' Courtenay says, is an admirable book. The Younger Anacharsis is supposed to travel through that celebrated country when at its best, and is made to give an account of whatever an intelligent traveller would observe, and this not fancifully, for the authorities of the most faithful writers are quoted at the bottom of the page. The Chevalier Ramsay has written his ' Voyages de Cyrus' (which I have read) upon the same plan. David, with his usual activity and prudence, has both seen the book (which consists of several volumes, besides a volume of maps) and sug- 280 LETTERS OE BOS WELL, gested that you should first be informed it is pretty dear, — under £3 however, — that you may consider. Courtenay commends much ' Moeurs des Grecs,' by Peiu", the author of ' Recherches sur les Americains.' Will you have this too ? Your story of the apparition is, truly enough, " to give us pause." I myself am much inclined to be- lieve it ; I am never startled by the why, because that may be objected to thousands and thousands of facts which, in this world of mystery, we are sure have hap- pened. Malone and Sir Joshua will not believe it ; they very erroneously, I think, maintain that suppo- sing the appearance, or imagination, or whatever else it may be called, and also the corresponding death of Mr. Winyard, to be ascertained, there may have been only coincidence. Courtenay (though an unbeliever in our Revelation) admits that, if the two facts be ascer- tained, there may have been a supernatural influence ; he lays much stress upon the officers at the i\Iess hav- ing laughed at Sherbrook and Winyard for months, as undoubted evidence that they saw the apparition at the time mentioned ; but he requires proof that they were laughed at. It is w^ell known how people exag- gerate and vary accounts. Johnson taught me to cross- question in common life. I really think the story de- serves to be thoroughly examined. Where is Win- yard ? Where are the officers who ridiculed him and Sherbrook at the Mess ? Adieu for the present, my dear Temple ! I hold myself in readiness to set out for Scotland in case of ILL FEELINGS TOWARDS HAWKINS. 281 worse accounts. Why is this melancholy circumstance in the lot of vay famili/ ? Cut bono ? I adore, and re- verently wait for more light, Write to David about your books, in case I should be gone ; but pray give me some kind communications. I like your sitting up and writing to me when your wife and daughter were at the assembly ; we are not quite young now. I ever am most affectionately yours, J. B. P.S. — Pray, by return of post help me with a word. In censuring Mr. J. Hawkins's book I say, " There is throughout the whole of it a dark, uncharitable cast, which puts the most unfavourable construction on my illustrious friend's conduct." Malone maintains cast will not do; he will have 'malignancy.' Is that not too strong? how would 'disposition' do? I have the pleasure to tell you that a part of my magnum opus is now ready for the press, and that I shall probably begin to print next week. By all means call Lowther my patron. May he be so more and more ! Hawkins is no doubt very malevolent. Observe how he talks of me as quite unknown. Between Sir John Hawkins and Boswell (although we have just seen that they dined at each other's houses and were ostensibly on good terms) there ex- isted great jealousy ; and Boswell's ill-feeling towards his rival is frequently exhibited in the ' Life of John- 282 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. son." The passage cited in the above Postscript was retained in the book unaltered, and will be found at the commencement of the Biography. With respect to Boswell's annoyance at Hawkins's talking of him as quite unknown, there is an anecdote related* which is a very proper pendant to his com- plaint, and which makes poor Boswell's position appear still more ridiculous. " My father and Boswell," says Miss Hawkms, " grew a little acquainted ; and when the Life of their friend came out, Boswell showed himself very uneasy under an injury which he was much embarrassed in defining. He called on my father, and, being admitted, complained of the manner in which he was enrolled amongst Johnson's friends, which was as ' Mr. James Boswell of Auchinleck.' Where was the offence? It was one of those which a complainant hardly dares to embody in words : he would only repeat, ' Well, but Mr. James Boswell! surely, surely, Mr. James Boswell F '' I know,' said my father, ' Mr. Boswell, what you mean ; you would have had me say, that Johnson undertook this tour with The Boswell.' He could not indeed absolutely covet this mode of proclamation ; he would perhaps have been content with ' the celebrated' or the ' well-known,' but he could not confess quite so much ; he therefore acquiesced in the amendment pro- posed, but he was forced to depart without any pro- mise of correction in a subsequent edition." The Reader vAW remember, that, having attacked * See anecdotes by Miss Hawkins in ' Johnsoniana.' BOZZY AND PIOZZI. 283 Sir John Hawkins in the beginning of the ' Life,' Boswell next proceeds to detract from another rival, Mrs. Piozzi. It was this mutual jealousy of the rival biographers of Dr. Johnson, which formed the subject of Peter Pindar's burlesque entitled " Bozzy and Piozzi," a pair of twin Eclogues. It could not have tended to recon- cile the various parties to these quarrels to read the bitter Peter's account of the disputes or the disputants. The lady and gentleman are, for example, thus cruelly introduced for the purpose of ridicule : — " At length rushed forth two candidates for fame, A Scotchman one, and one a London dame ; That, by the emphatic Johnson christened Bozzy ; This, by the bishop's license, Dame Piozzi." 74.] London, \Uh March, 1789. My dear Temple, Except joining with David in thinking that you had better wait a little longer and get Parr's publication for nothing, this letter is to be solely about the Apparition. Courtenay fuid Langton are just gone from me, after considering your very distinct and fair statement. Courtenay is very much impressed. He evades the story of Lord Lyttleton, by alleging that his Lordship grew more and more frightened, as the predicted time approached, and in a panic swallowed some medical tincture so hastily as to be choked by it, before his servant, who had stepped out of the room, was returned : as to that, I must inquire. Courtenay 284 LETTERS OF BO SWELL. will be obliged to yoii if you can ascertain the day (for hour and minute are too precise) on which the appear- ance was seen by Sherbrook and Winyard. Was it perfectly recollected by the other officers to coincide with the very day of Winyard's brother's death ? And Langton having suggested that it is possible there may be a jestiiig concert to have a regimental ghost, Courtenay also begs that you, in whose opinion he will have confidence, may, upon strict attention, say if you have the least suspicion that the officers mean to join in such an imposition. For my own part, I have no difficulty in believing the story to be supernaturally true. I am ever most afiectionately yours, J. B. P.S. — Did I mention that the physician wrote to me that my wife was rather easier ? But no letters for some days, and several dreams, distress me. I 75.] London, Slsif March, 1789. My dear Temple, Your last confirms me still more as to the story of the apparition. But I have not yet waited on Mr. Winyard ; for, alas ! my dear friend, I have received very alarming accounts of the distress which my wife suffers, both in a letter from the physician and in one from herself. Her expression is, " My fever still con- tinues, and I waste away daily." I have been in wretched agitation since the day before yesterday, when DEPARTURE FOR SCOTLAND. 285 such melancholy mformation reached me. It is pos- sible that a retmii of mild weather may relieve her, as has happened several times ; but we cannot be igno- rant that each repeated attack makes her less able to recover; and supposing that now the disease should increase, and, as sometimes happens, should take a rapid course, she may be carried off while I am four hundred miles from her. The alternative is dreadful ; and though she, with admirable generosity, bids me not be in a haste to leave London (knowing my ex- treme fondness for it), I should have a heart as hard as a stone were I to remain here; and should the fatal event happen in my absence, I should have a just upbraiding gloom upon my mind for the rest of my hfe. I have therefore resolved to set out early, the day after tomorrow, and take Veronica with me. I do this with the entire approbation of Mrs. Stevenson, mistress of the boarding-school,* who said to me, " It is a case not to be reasoned upon." I would fain hope that the consolation and amusement of my company and that of our Queen Square daughter, will, with the advance of the season, restore her to tolerable health ; and then I shall return to town to go forward with my great work. In the meantime, as we have of late, my old and most intimate friend, corresponded more fre- quently, pray let us continue to do so. Your letters, * This Queen Square boarding-school, which was at one time; so fashionable and famous as to be teitned the " Ladies' Eton," having survived for nearly a ceiituiy, has been finally closed within the last year or two. 286 LETTERS OF BOSWELI,. under j\Ir. Garforth's cover, will be punctually for- warded. You must not on any account come to London till I am there to meet you, which I flatter myself will be about the middle of May. It is ne- cessary for me, if possible, to be back by the 25th of May, to appear as Recorder of Carlisle in a Cause in the King's Bench. Pray let me have your fervent prayers for my wife's recover}*. How much do I long to see you ! I unexpectedly met Nichols last Wednesday at a club at the Blenheim Tavern, Bond Street, of which I am an honorary member. We were civil to each other. I have not seen Jerningham's ' Enthusiasm,' but I shall look at it. Do not tell worthy David that I mentioned parti- culars ; but ask him, as from yourself, what they are : I having complained to you that Dundas has not behaved well to him. The fact is, on David's being obliged to quit Spain on account of the war, Dundas promised to my father that he would give him an office. Some time after my father's death, Dundas renewed the assurance to me in strong terms, and told me he had said to Lord Caermarthen, " It is a deathbed pro- mise, and I must fulfil it." Yet David has now been kept waiting above eight years, when he might have established himself again in trade, and, notwithstanding Dundas's exorbitant power, has got no employment, though he is an intelligent, accurate, worthy man, and has declared his willingness to accept of any situation in any department. This is cruel usage. The patient UNWISE NEGLECT BY MR. PITT. 287 firmness with which David behaves is very respectable. He is right in persevering, so as to leave Dnndas no excuse for not keeping his word. As to myself, Dundas, though he pledged himself (as the modern phrase is) to assist me in advancing in promotion, and though he last year assured me, upon his honour, that my letter concerning the Scotch Judges had made no difference ; yet, except when I in a man- ner compelled him to dine with me last winter, has entirely avoided me, and I strongly suspect has given Pitt a prejudice against me. The excellent Langton says it is disgraceful ; it is utter folly in Pitt not to reward and attach to his Administration a man of my popular and pleasant talents, whose merit he has ac- knowledged in a letter under his own hand. He did not answer several letters, which I wrote at intervals, requesting to wait upon him ; I lately wrote to him that such behaviour to me was certainly not generous. " I think it is not just, and (forgive the freedom) I doubt if it be wise. If I do not hear from you in ten days, I shall conclude that you are resolved to have no farther communication with me ; for I assure you. Sir, I am extremely unwilling to give you, or in- deed myself, unnecessary trouble." About two months have elapsed, and he has made no sign. How can I still delude myself with dreams of rising in the great sphere of life ? I will tell you ; Lord Lonsdale, who, when he pleases, has great power in every Adminis- tration, shows me more and more regard ; and Sir Michael Le Fleming, Governor Penn, and Colonel 288 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. Lowther, three of his Members, assure me that he will give me a seat in Parliament at the General Election. I do not reckon upon this, but the jjeut-etre is ani- mating. I cannot help thinking with you that Pitt is the ablest and most useful Minister of any of those whom we know ; yet I am not sure that after the pericula which should give caution, others (and amongst them Burke, whom I visited yesterday, and found as ably philosophical in political disquisition as ever) might not do as well ; and if he has treated me unjustly in his stewardship for the pubhc, and behaved with un- grateful insolence to vay patron, who first introduced him into public hfe, may I not wai'rantably arraign many articles, and great ones too, in his conduct, which I can attack with forcible energy ? At present I keep myself quiet, and wait till we see how things will turn out. My candidateship in my own County is honourable, though I am between two great parties, either of which could overwhelm me, but perhaps may rather let me come in, by bringing me in apparently, than be defeated by its opponent. You will forgive me for all this egotism.* You have not gratified me with a particular account of your young family, which pray do. I am vexed that I can see no way of obtaining the presentation to the Hospital for your nephew. Do you not think that the * Those who are experienced in. election mancEun'es will be able to understand this passage ; unless indeed Eefonned Parliaments have rendered this coiTupt science obsolete. THE GREAT MAN AT A DRAWING-ROOM. 289 air of the west of England might do my wife good ? but I fear she could not be persuaded to leave Auchin- leck. How different are she and I ! I was the great man (as we used to say) at the late Drawing-room, in a suit of imperial blue lined with rose-coloured silk, and ornamented with rich gold-wrought buttons. What a motley scene in life ! I leave my sons in the house here with the old housekeeper and my footman. I must send the eldest from home, for he begins to oppose me, and no wonder. Adieu, my dear Temple ! My best compliments to Mrs. Temple and all your family. I am ever, Most affectionately yours, James Boswell, 290 CHAPTER XV. 1789. MRS. BOSWELL's case PRONOUNCED HOPELESS. SELF-RE- PROACHES. PARLIAMENTARY ASPIRATION. CHAIRMAN OF QUARTER-SESSIONS. ADDRESS TO THE PRINCE OF WALES. ' CONSPICUOUSNESS.' PITT. — DEATH OF MRS. BOSWELL. FAMILY PLANS. ELECTIONEERING. VISIT TO LORD LONS- DALE. — STRANGE LOSS OF A WIG. GLOOMY CONDITION OF MIND. — MYSTERIOUS DISCOVERY OF THE WIG. MALONE REVISING THE 'LIFE OF JOHNSON.' SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS' BLINDNESS. BOSWELL's INCOME. VISIT TO ETON. — PRO- GRESS OF THE ' LIFE OF JOHNSON.' The illness from which Mrs. Boswell had been suffer- ing terminated fatally during the absence of her hus- band. The following letters exhibit in curious con- trast Boswell's grief, which was undoubtedly genuine, and the littlenesses and vanity which unfortunately formed part of his nature. The nineteen carriages, etc. following his wife's hearse certainly afforded the mourning husband no little satisfaction. It will be seen how grievously Boswell's conscience reproaches him when he reflects on his convivial dissi- pation during his wife's illness. His penitence seems also not a little excited, when he remembers the in- convenience he experiences from spraining his shoulder through his intoxication. DOMESTIC GRIEFS. 291 The election struggles which Boswell engaged in were unsuccessful, and the only preferment he obtained through his friends was the Recordership of Carlisle. On the whole this portion of Boswell's life is very melancholy : it is a record of domestic misfortunes, broken health, and disappointed ambition ; he con- fesses that it has been, and still is, his great object, that his life should tdl; but it is even now on the wane, and nothing yet done to give it celebrity. The Life of Dr. Johnson, however, has still to be published. 76.] LowtJier, 22nd May, 1789. My dear Temple, Time and place should be indifferent to philosophy and friendship such as ours ; yet what reason have you and I to arrogate to ourselves any superiority or peculiar excellence. Would it be allowed to us by others, upon a perusal of our correspondence ?* I fear not. There is however a benignant principle in hu- man nature, which disposes men in general to have an irresistible predilection for themselves, and all that is connected with them as participating of themselves. Every man has a particular regard for his own person, be it what it may, etc. etc. I need not expand the thought ; you will at once see it in all its extent. This introduction arises from my being struck so as almost to laugh by myself, at the strangeness of my having delayed, I know not how, day after day, while at Auchinleck, to answer your truly kind letter of 26th * This question the reader is now in a position to ;misw(m-. u2 292 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. April, and now sitting down here to do it when I am upon the wing.* I found my dear wife as ill, or rather worse than I apprehended. The consuming hectic fever had preyed upon her incessantly during the winter and spring, and she was miserably emaciated and weak. The physician and surgeon apothecary, whom she allows occasionally, though rarely, to visit her, told me fairly, as to a man able to support with firmness what they announced, that they had no hopes of her recovery, though she might linger, they could not say how long, in distress, — nay, might again, as formerly, have a re- spite of comparative ease. Ob, ray dear old friend, how shocking was this to me ! Alas ! instead of having a manly firmness, I am more weak and effeminate in mind than the valuable woman herself. Added to her other compUcated complaints, she has for some time had a most afflicting acidity in her stomach, so that she has no good digestion, but everything that she eats and drinks becomes quite acid, and thus she can receive very little sustenance ; and the acrimony is such as to corrode and blister her tongue. I never knew any one in greater distress, except one gentleman, who died of that dreadful disorder a cancer. She goes out an airing in the carriage every day, wdiich for about three hours gives her some relief; and when her attention is taken off herself by family affairs, nay by the affairs of my estate, to both of * The sequence of Boswell's ideas in this paragraph is not very obvious. SELF-REPROACHES. 293 which she is still wonderfully alive, she seems to be a good deal better. No man ever had a higher esteem or a warmer love for a wife than I have for her. You will recollect, my Temple, how our marriage was the re- sult of an attachment truly romantic ; yet how painful is it to me to recollect a thousand instances of incon- sistent conduct. T can justify my removing to the great sphere of England, upon a principle of laudable ambi- tion ; but the frequent scenes of what I must call disso- lute conduct are inexcusable ; and often and often, when she was very ill, in London have I been indulging in festivity with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Courtenay, Malone, etc. etc, etc., and have come home late and disturbed her repose. Nay, when I was last at Auchinleck, on purpose to soothe and console her, I repeatedly went from home ; and both on those occasions, and when neighbours visited me, drank a great deal too much wine. On Saturday last, dining at a gentleman's house, where I was visiting for the first time, and was eager to obtain political influence, I drank so freely, that, riding home in the dark without a servant, I fell from my horse and bruised my shoulder severely. Next morning I had it examined by a surgeon, who found no fracture or dislocation, but blooded me largely to prevent inflammation. While I was thus confined to bed, came a letter from Colonel Lowther, one of Lord Lonsdale's Members, informing me that his Lordship would set out for London as soon as I arrived at Low- ther, and would be glad to have my company in" the carriage with him. I expected such a letter, because 294 LETTERS UV 150SWKLL. 1 was engaged to appear as Recorder of Carlisle, for the Corporation, in a Cause brought against us in the King's Bench, which I knew was to come on this month or early in June. But I was in a great dilemma what to do. I was afraid I should not be able to travel, and to leave my wife in such a state w^as se- vere. She, wdth a spirit which I cannot enough ad- mire, animated me to set out, which I accordingly did, resolved to return as soon as the business was over, and bring our two sons with me, to be some comfort to her, while she can at all be sensible of it. His Lordship's ttr/?/is exceedingly dilatory, so that w^e have not set out today as was proposed, and perhaps we may not go for a day or tw o longer. I philosophically resign myself to what may happen ; this being (as Governor Penn, the American, and one of his Mem- bers, and a sensible worthy fellow, says) a school of its own kind. My shoulder is more uneasy, and there is now an extended rheumatism through that arm, and part of the breast next to it, which I feel acutely, while I cannot put on and off my clothes without help. But I Avill go forward. To be zealous is, with justice, a strong recommendation ; and such is the great Parlia- mentary influence, that, be the Minister who will, he may when he pleases get almost anything for a friend. I have no right to expect that he will give me a seat in Parliament, but I shall not be surprised if he does. Entre nous, my chance for representing my own County is very small. There is a great coalition between Lord ELECTIONEERING POIJTICS AND PITT. 295 Eglintouii and Sir Adam rergussoii, formed and sup- ported by Dundas. Against that there are three can- didates ; one who has a large number of votes, and two of us who have each such a number that he can- not succeed unless we both join him. It is possible that, by remaining firm, there may be such a throw of the dice, or such a junction, that I may be a Member at least for a part of the Parliament. Meantime, know- ing my small chance, I spend almost nothing in elec- tioneering, yet keep up a spirited appearance. At our last general Quarter-Sessions I was appointed Chairman, or Prseses, as we call it. I proposed and carried an Address to the Prince of Wales, which I had prepared, expressing a grateful sense of his public conduct with regard to the Regency. You will allow, when you read it, that I have been very happy in wording it, so as all fair ones must approve of it ; for truly his Royal Highness (as far as we have a right to know) behaved admirably. I am carrying it up, to be presented by the Earl of Eglintoun, accom- panied by such Justices of us as may be in London. This will add something to my conspicuousness. Will that word do ? As to Pitt, he is an insolent fellow, but so able, that upon the whole I must support him against the Coalition ; but I will work him, for he has behaved very ill to me. Can he wonder at my wish- ing for preferment, when men of the first family and fortune in England struggle for it? We shall sec; meantime the attempt rouses my spirits. What a state is my present ! — full of ambition and projects 296 LETTERS or BOSWELL. to attain wealth and eminence, yet embarrassed in my circumstances, and depressed with family distress, w^hich at times makes everything in life seem indif- ferent. I often repeat Johnson's lines, in his vanity of human wishes : — " Shall helpless man, in ignorance sedate, EoU darkling down the toiTent of his fate?" Your account of your young family pleases me much, while I am at the same time struck with a strange me- mento how old we now are. May God bless theni ! My heart, and that of my dear wife, were tenderly touched with the very affectionate and I am sure sincere offer of accommodation by you and Mrs. Temple ; I heartily wish she had been able and willing to accept of it ; but liome is her delight in health, and solace in sickness ; she has nothing of my roving disposition, who may very possibly be one day in Asia. You have told me that I was the most thinking man you ever knew ; it is cer- tainly so as to my own life. I am continually con- scious, continually looking had', or looking foncard, and wondering how I shall feel in situations which I anti- cipate in fancy. IMy journal will afford materials for a very curious narrative. I assure you I do not now live with a view to have surprising incidents, though I own I am desirous that my life should tell. What aid can my wife have from religion, except a pious resignation to the great and good God ? for in- deed she is too shrewd to receive the common topics : she is keen and penetrating. Is it not difficult to DEATH OF MRS. BOSWELL. 297 guard oneself from doubting or distrusting in some degree, when one is deeply afflicted, and has no light in prospect ? How dismal, how affecting is it to me to see my cousin, my friend, my wife wasting away before my eyes ! and the more distressing it is, that she is as sensible as ever, so that we cannot see lohy this is. I entreat all the comfort you can give. Write to me in London directly. It is an additional vexation that my great Work must be suspended for some time, but I cannot help it now : I was much too idle and dilatory for years. I hope in the course of the winter to have it out. My best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to your young family. I am ever, my dear friend, Yours most affectionately, James Boswell. 77.] AncJunleck, ^rd July, 1789. My dear Temple, Your letter upon my most severe loss proves that you are now the same steady, warm-hearted friend I have ever known you. O my friend, this is affliction indeed ! My two boys and I posted from London to Auchinleck, night and day, in sixty-four hours and a quarter ; but alas ! our haste was all in vain. The fatal stroke had taken place before we set out. It was very strange that we had no intelligence whatever upon 298 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. the road, not even in our own parish, nor till my se- cond daughter came running out from the house, and announced to us the dismal event in a burst of tears. O my Temple, what distress ! what tender and painful regrets ! what unavailing, earnest wishes to have but one week, one day, in which I might again hear her admirable conversation, and assure her of my fervent attachment, notwithstanding all my irregularities. It was some relief to me to be told, that she had, after I was set out, mentioned what I think I wrote to you, that she had pressed me to go up and show my zeal for Lord Lonsdale ; but when on my return, before the Cause came on, I found that by my going away at that unlucky time I had not been with her to soothe her last moments, I cried bitterly, and upbraided my- self for leaving her, for she would not have left me. This reflection, my dear friend, will, I fear, pursue me to my grave. She had suffered a great deal from her disease for some v\eeks before her death ; but the actual scene of dying itself was not dreadful. She continued quite sensible till a few minutes before, when she began to doze calmly, and expired without any struggle. When I saw her, four days after, her countenance was not at all disfigured. But alas ! to see my excellent wife and the mother of my children, and that most sensible, lively woman, lying cold and pale and insensible, was very shocking to me. I could not help doubting it Avas a deception. I could hardly bring myself to agree that the body should be removed, for it was still a consolation to me to go and kneel by FUNERAL OP MRS. BOSWELL. 299 it, and talk to my dear, dear Peggie. She was much respected by all who knew her, so that her funeral was remarkably well attended. There were nineteen car- riages followed the hearse, and a large body of horse- men and the tenants of all my lands. It is not cus- tomary in Scotland for a husband to attend a wife's funeral ; but I resolved, if I possibly could, to do her the last honours myself ; and I was able to go through it very decently. I privately read the funeral service over her coffin in presence of ray sons, and was re- lieved by that ceremony a good deal. On the Sunday after, Mr. Dun delivered, almost verbatim, a few sen- tences which I sent him as a character of her. I ima- gined that I should not be able to stay here, after the sad misfortune, but I find that I cling to it with a melancholy pleasure. Honest David is perpetually pressing my confining my family to Scotland. But alas ! my dear friend, shoidd I or could I be satisfied with narrow provin- ciality, which was formerly so irksome, and must now be much more so? I have agreed that my second daughter shall pass this winter at Edinburgh, as she has desired it, m order to finish her education. But were my daughters to be Edinburgh-mannered girls, I could have no satisfaction in their company. Veronica wishes to be boarded this winter with a lady in Lon- don. Little Betsy, who is just nine years old, goes tomorrow to a quiet boarding-school at Ayr, our coun- try-town, till I settle where to place her for a year or two. I am thinking of a convent in Erance, or rather 300 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. in rianders, where she can be well educated a certain length very cheap, and then I would finish her at one of the great English boarding-schools. Yet if I can find a good and cheap English one, I may probably not send her abroad. Can you and Mrs. Temple ad- vise me ? My eldest son, I am resolved, shall go to Eton this winter. I am to have only chambers in the Temple after Christmas. I may perhaps come to you in autumn, if Malone goes to Ireland, so that the re- vising of Johnson's Life cannot proceed till winter. I am much obliged to you for your prayer. I experience that piety affords the only real comfort. My kindest love to you and yours. I am forcing myself to be as busy as I can, and think of going the Northern Circuit. Ever most affectionately yours, J. B. Pray write often, though but a few lines. 78.] Auchhilech, 2nd August, 1789. My dearest Temple, A more comforting letter than your last never was received by a friend. I am now quite settled as to my daughters. The eldest goes to Mrs. Buchanan's, the good widow lady with an accomplished daughter, in London, where she will be exceedingly well as a friendly boarder; the second goes for one year to Edinburgh, to a boarding- COUNTY ELECTION. 301 school, where her education will be completed, and she will have countenance shown her by many good friends of her valuable mother ; and little Betsy, nine years old, shall be left by me at the place which you satisfy me the very best for her. The distance no doubt is some objection, but not so strong as there would be to a convent, because I can see her sooner, and the very kind offer that she shall be with you and Mrs. Temple in the holidays, for which I most heartily thank yon, and of which I shall frankly accept, is per- fectly decisive. I cannot yet resolve whether I shall come to you this month, so as to be at Carlisle the beginning of October, as my office of Recorder obliges me to be there annually at Michaelmas ; or whether I shall keep up appearances by going a part of the Northern Circuit, and not be with you till after Mi- chaelmas, when I imagine the weather is sufficiently favourable for viewing the Land's End. My immediate object is our County election of an interim Member, in room of Colonel Montgomerie, who has got a place of £500 a year. Dundas is insolently forcing upon us a gentleman from another County, which I and the other two Declarants, as candidates at the General Election against his candidate, now unite to resist. Tomorrow is the election -day ; I fear we shall lose it, but we shall make an admirable figure. To own the truth, I have very little chance for suc- cess at the General Election, but I may perhaps ne- gotiate for a part of the Parliament. The Prince of Wales has received our Address most graciously, and 302 LETTERS OF BO SWELL. I am to be presented to his Royal Highness, who de- sired it might be signified that he regretted Mr. Bos- well was gone from town. By all these means, my dear friend, my attention is a good deal dissipated ; but I feel that the great and pathetic deprivation which I have suffered distresses me at frequent intervals more than at first. Gracious God, grant me resignation and hope ! my friend, you shall know what I endure when we meet. My very best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to your young family. Ever most affectionately yours, J. B. Pray be good enough to write often. 79.] Rose Castle, Sunday, 2% rd August, 1789. My dear Temple, I left Auchinleck with intention to join the Northern Circuit at Carlisle. I went first to Lowther, the great man having invited me, by a letter, to come to him as soon as I should find it convenient. My mind was so sore from my late severe loss, that I shrunk from the rough scene of the roaring, bantering society of law- yers. I consulted Lord Lonsdale, who thought I might stay away, as I had a very good excuse. I accordingly remained at Lowther. Still I was in sad distress, though I forced an appearance of doing wonderfully well. LOSS OF A wia. 303 A strange accident happened : the house at Lowther was so crowded, that I and two other gentlemen were laid in one room. On Thursday morning my wig was missing ; a strict search was made, all in vain. I was obliged to go all day in my nightcap, and absent my- self from a party of ladies and gentlemen, who went and dined with the Earl on the banks of the lake, — a piece of amusement which I was glad to shun, as well as a dance which they had at night. But I was in a ludicrous situation. I suspected a wanton trick, which some people think witty ; but I thought it very ill-timed to one in my situation. Next morning the Earl and a Colonel, who I thought might have con- cealed my wig, declared to me upon honour they did not know where it M^as ; and the conjecture was that a clergyman who was in the room with me, and had packed up his portmanteau in a great hurry to set out in the morning early, might have put it up among his things. This is very improbable ; but I could not long remain an object of laughter, so I went twenty- five miles to Carlisle on Friday, and luckily got a wig there fitted for me in a few hours. Yesterday 1 came to this Seat of the Bishop, where I find myself some- what easier, there being more quietness. His Lord- ship's chaplain read prayers, and preached to us in his chapel today. The scene is fine externally, and hospitable and quiet within ; but alas ! my grief preys upon me night and day. I am amazed when I look back. Though I often and often dreaded this loss, I had no conception how distressing it would be. May 304 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. God have mercy upon me ! I am quite restless and feeble and desponding. I retm-n to Lowther tomorrow for two days, to show that I am not at all in a pet, and then I am to return to Auchinleck for a little time. Such is my melancholy frame at present, that I waver as to all my plans. I have an avidity for death ; I eagerly wish to be laid by my dear wife ; years of life seem insupportable. I dread that Eton may make my son expensive and vicious, and it seems hard to send my little daughter two hundred miles beyond London. Every prospect that I turn my mind's eye upon is dreary. Why should I struggle ? I certainly am constitutionally unfit for any employment. The Law life in Scotland, amongst vulgar famiharity, would now quite destroy me. I am not able to acquire the Law of England. To be in Parliament, unless as an independent Member, would gall my spirit ; to live in the country would either harass me by forced exer- tions, or sink me into a gloomy stupor. Let me not think at present, far less resolve. The ' Life of John- son' still keeps me up ; I must bring that forth, and then I think I may bury myself in London, in total obscure indifference, and let the savings of my estate accumulate for my family. God bless you, my dear friend ! What a blessing is it to me that I have, through all the vicissitudes of my life, had my Temple. But alas ! alas ! am I cer- tain one hour of retaining him ? and when the fatal news arrives that he is gone (if it arrives to me), how am I to support it ? BITTER REFLKCTIONS. .305 Almiglity and most merciful Father ! let me never impiously repine. May I be enabled by thy grace really to submit myself entirely to thy divine Will. Yet as " Jesns wept" for the death of Lazarus, I hope my tears at this time are excused. Hovv^ much do I regret that I have not applied my- self more to learning. " Adversis perfugium et sola- tium prsebent,"* is, I believe literally true of " studia" in a certain degree. The woeful circumstance of such a state of mind as I now experience is that it rejects consolation ; it feels an indulgence in its own wretch- edness. O my friend, what would I give for one of those years with my dearest cousin, friend and wife, which are past ! May I not flatter myself with a dawn of hope tliat I shall be permitted to see her again, aye and to be with her, not to be separated ! What can one think ? what can one do in so wretched a state as this ? She used on all occasions to be my com- forter; she, methinks, could now suggest rational thoughts to me ; but where is she ? O my Temple, I am miserable. It is astonishing what force I have put upon myself since her death, how I have enter- tained company, etc. etc. ; but all this makes me worse. Is it possible that I yet can have any enjoy- ment in this state of being ? My kindest compliments to all your family. Value Mrs. Temple warndy while * Cic, Pro ArchiaPoeta, c. 7. — The remainder of the quotation Boswell might have remembered equally appositely: — "Hrec studia adolescentiam alunt, scnectntem oblectant, secundas res ornant, ad- versis perfugium ac solatium prscbent, delectant domi, non impediunt foris, pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur." X 306 LETTERS OF BOSWEI.L. you have lier. Write to me under cover to Mr. Gar- fortli. Ever, etc. J. B. so.] London, \Wi October, 17S9. My dear Temple, Believe me I cannot sufficiently thank you for the comfort your last most friendly letter gave me. Your kindness has all advantages : it is wise, virtuous, and pleasing. I thank God my mind has attained more composure than Avhen I wrote to you from the Bishop of Carlisle's ; but the truth is, I am in a kind of dis- sipated stupor, and am afraid to think. I left Auchin- leek on the first of this month ; I had before that gone to Carlisle, and met Lord Lonsdale, to license the pub- licans. All went on well, and I returned for some time to Auchinleck. My eldest son and I were a night at Lowther, on our return to town. My wig was found, and the way in wdiich it was lost will remain as secret as the author of Junius. On consideration, and hearing my friends here, I cannot think of sendino- little Betsv so far as Devon- shire, especially as she would be above seventy miles from your house. I am warmly thankful to you and Mrs. Temple for your kind offers, but I ain inquiring for a boarding-school in the neighbourhood of London. This being now- my resolution, I defer my visit to you. Malone, who oblighigly revises my * Life of Johnson,' is to go to L'eland w^hen his Shakespeare is published, which will be about Christmas. I am therefore to get SIR JOSHUA RKYNOLDS. 307 as iiiucli of his time as may be while he remains, as lie may not return from Ireland till the summer. I think of visiting you in the Christmas holidays, or perhaps not till spring or summer : we shall consult in mutual letters. Sir Joshua Reynolds' loss of the sight of one eye, and weakness of the other, you may believe must af- flict him deeply : he is another instance of did beat/is ante ohitum nemo. His friends are assiduous in con- solino; him. I shall write more fully soon ; and, offering my best compliments to your family, I ever am, my dear Temple, Your most affectionate friend, James Boswell. 14M October. — Having been too late for the Post yesterday, I have opened my packet to add a little to this letter. David has told me of your proposal to take two shares in the Tontine, and in what a friendly manner you have written to him concerning the £200 which I owe you. I have written to my agent at Edin- burgh pressingly, to exert [himself] in getting me pay- ment of what is due to me ; and I hope by January to be able to answer your convenience, for I cannot say demand. If not, a little longer delay may not be very inconvenient ; and I will, at all events, have your money ready before the Tontine is closed. How un- pleasant is it to be strcdtened in our circ am stances, as the phrase is ; yet this I have been for twenty years, and, I dread, must be so T know not how long. I must X 2 308 LETTERS OF BOSWEI-L. reckon my children at £100 a year each, £500 ; after which I reckon I cannot command more than £350. I am looking for chambers in the Temple. I am not at all well today. I have had a restless night, and many painful thoughts of my irreparable loss. Yes- terday afternoon Malone and I revised and made ready for the Press thirty pages of Johnson's Life : he is much pleased with it ; but I feel a sad indifference, and he says I have not the use of my faculties. They have been torpid for some time, except in conversa- tion ; I hope to recover them. I go to Eton tomor- row with my eldest son. I was there last week to prepare matters, and to my agreeable surprise found myself highly considered there, was asked by Dr. Davies the Head-master to dine at the Pellows' table, and made a creditable figm^e. / certainly have the art of making the most of what I have. How should one who has had only a Scotch education be quite at home at Eton ? / had my classical quotations very ready. I have drunk too much wine for some time past.* I fly to every mode of agitation. I am now to try fixing my attention to my magnum opus. * Alas that Boswell should not recollect at the right time his own apophthegm, " A drmikeu fellow is not honest — ' a stick,' said I, ' kept always moist must become rotten.' " — Boswelliana, Philohib. Soc. vol. ii. :J09 CHAPTER XVI. 1789-1790. HABIT or INTEMPERANCE. — MALONE. BOSWELL's OWN OPI- NION OF THE MERITS OF 'LIFE OP JOHNSON,' — PRIVATE AF- FAIRS. A GOOD DINNER. MONUMENT TO DR. JOHNSON. — 'EUROPEAN SETTLEMENT,' WRITTEN BY BURKE's COUSIN. PRINTING THE 'LIFE OF JOHNSON.' INSCRIPTION ON HIS MONUMENT. — READABLE STYLE OF WRITING. The account which Boswell gives to Mr. Temple in the letters of November the 28th and 30th, of the labour he underwent in preparing his magnum opus for the Press, is probably no exaggeration. No matter of mi- nutest detail, however trifling in itself, was allowed to pass by the indefatigable biographer into his pages without being tested and established to his own con- scientious satisfaction. As he himself says, all he wrote "is told with authenticity and in a lively manner." In the following letters will be found frequent re- ference to Boswell's two sons : all that it has been thought necessary to say with respect to their career will be found in the introductory chapter of this volume. 310 LETTERS 01' BOSWELL. 81.] Loudon, 2%th Noccmber, 1789. My dear Temple, Let me address you from Cato : — " Thou best of friends, Pardon a weak, distemper'd soul, that swells In sudden gusts, and sinks again in calms." Tour last letter supposes too truly my situatiou. With grief contiuually at my heart, I have been endeavour- ing to seek relief in dissipation and in wine, so that my life for some time past has been unworthy of my- self, of you, and of all that is valuable in my cha- racter and connections. For a week past, as the com- mon phrase is, " I have taken up," and, by a more regular and quiet course, find myself, I think, rather better. I cannot express to you. Temple, what I suffer from the loss of my valuable wife and the mother of my children. While she lived, I had no occasion al- most to think concerning my family ; every particular was thought of by her, better than I could. I am the most helpless of human beings ; I am in a state very much that of one in despair. 30M November. — I have though, I assure you, a constant solace to my unhappiness in thinking of you, whose friendship I have tried and found constant for more than half my hfe, and whose worth my Popish imagination cannot help somehow viewing as a kind of credit, on which I may in part repose. My apology for not coming to you, as I fully in- tended and wished, is really a sufficient one ; for the revision of my ' Life of Johnson ' by so acute and BOSWELL ON HIS ' MAONUM OPL'S.' 311 knowing a critic as Mr. Malone is of most essential consequence, especially as he is JoJmsonianissimus ; and, as lie is to hasten to Ireland as soon as his Shakespeare is fairly published, I must avail myself of him noio. His hospitality and my other invitations, and particularly my attendance at Lord Lonsdale's, have lost us many evenings : but I reckon that a third of the Work is settled, so that I shall get to press very soon. You cannot imagine what labour, what per- plexity, what vexation I have endured in arranging a prodigious multiplicity of materials, in supplying omis- sions, in searching for papers, buried in different masses, and all this besides the exertion of composing and po- lishing : many a time have I thought of giving it up. However, though I shall be uneasily sensible of its many deficiencies, it w^ill certainly be to the world a very va- luable and peculiar volume of biography, full of literary and characteristical anecdotes (which word, by the way, Johnson always condemned, as used in the sense that the French, and we from them, use it, as signifying particulars*) told loith authenticity and in a livehj * In Johnson's Dictionavy we find the word thus defined : — "Anecdote, n.s. 1. Something yet unpublished; secret history. ' Some modern anecdotes aver He nodded in his easy chair.' — Prior. "3. It is now used, after the French, for a biographical incident, a minute passage of private lil'c." However now we hear of " anecdotes" alike of gi'cat men (such as prime ministers or editors of posthumous letters), of little children (as the children of emperors and those found in infant, missionary, and ragged schools); of wise politicians and clever pointer-dogs ; of tragedians, elephants, and other learned occupants of the British 312 LETTERS Ol' BOSWEl.L. manner. Would that it were in the booksellers' shops ! Methinks, if I had this magnum opus launched, the Public has no further claim upon me ; for I have pro- mised no more, and I may die in peace, or retire into dull obscurity, reddarque teiiehris. Such is the gloomy ground of my mind, that any agreeable perceptions have an uncommon, though but a momentary, bright- ness. But alas ! my friend, be the accidents as they may, how is the substance ? how am I ? "With a pious submission to God, but at the same time a kind of ob- stinate feeling toward men, I walk about upon the earth with iuAvard discontent, though I may appear the most cheerful man you meet. I may have many gratifica- tions, but the comfort of life is at an end. I shrunk, on a near approach of the time, from sending my youngest daughter to such a distance ; indeed Sir Joshua said there would be a loss of all natural aftection ; and considering that she was not to be in your neighbourhood either, I placed her at i\Ir. Hockley's, at Blackland's House, Chelsea, a very ex- cellent boarding-school, where I intend she shall be for some years, without being a single night from it, that I may have one unindulged English daughter, of whom I fancy myself to be vain. She is very pretty and very clever. As for the other four, Avho have all been too much indulged, my second daughter is at a good boarding- stage, and so on. In fact, if Johnson were wont to be shocked in the eighteenth century by the abuse of the word, in the nineteenth lie would have been horrified. DOMESTIC DIITICULTIES. 313 school at Edinburgh, and under the inspection of her Grandmamma, as my father's widow is called, who, I nmst say, is exceedingly good to her. How much better is it that I am on decent terms with that lady ! My eldest daughter is at the house of a lady here, a Mrs. Buchanan, with whose daughter, a very accom- plished girl, Veronica is very intimate ; but I can per- ceive already that my daughter will not long be happy in that situation, and the second one must escape from school in a year. What then is to become of them ? I am utterly at a loss. They cannot live with satis- faction, or even propriety, in a house here with me, as I am very little at home, cannot afford to keep a carriage, and have nobody to take them out to visit, or to public places. Undoubtedly my having a house in Edinburgh would be best for them ; but, besides that my withdrawing thither would cut me off from all those chances which may in time raise me in life, I could not possibly endure Edinburgh now, unless I were to have a Judge's place to bear me up ; and even then I should sigh deeply for the Metropolis. Malone advises me to find some respectable elderly lady, who, though well bred and well connected, has little fortune, and would be glad to be a companion and superinten- dent of them, from the consideration of being comfor- tably accommodated, and having £30 or £40 to buy clothes. But my daughters are not what girls of fifteen and sixteen commonly are; they are exceed- ingly advanced for their years, and would not submit to such a woman, nor have I almost any authority 314 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. over them. My only hold is their affection. To place them at Auchinleck by themselves would be wrong, and I am unlucky enough to have no female relation whatever with whom they could live, except my step- mother, and she could not take the trouble of having them with her. Is not this a sad situation ? I have no guess what will be done. I have given up my house, and taken good cham- bers in the Inner Temple, to have the appearance of a lawyer. Temple ! Temple ! is this realising any of the towering hopes which have so often been the sub- ject of our conversations and letters ? Yet I live much with a great man, ^vho, upon any day that his fancy shall be so inclined, may obtain for me an office which would make me independent. The state of my affairs is very disagreeable, but be not afraid for your £200, as you may depend upon its being repaid. My rent- roll is above £1600 ; but, deducting annuities, interest of debts, and expenses absolutely necessary at Auchin- leck, I have but about £S50 to spend. I reckon my five children at £500 a year. You see what remains for myself. I am this year to make one trial of the Lord Chancellor. In short I cast about everywhere. I do not see the smallest opening in Westminster Hall ; but I like the scene, though I have attended only one da}^ this last Term, being eager to get my ' Life of John- son' finished. And the delusion that practice may come at any time (which is certainly true) still pos- sesses me. My eldest son has been at Eton since the 15th of EDUCATION OF HIS SONS. 315 October. You cannot imagine how miserable he has been : he wrote to nie for some time as if from the galleys, and intreated me to come to him. I did what was better ; I sent his uncle David, who was firm, and brought me back a good report, that there was no reason to pity him. I have delayed and delayed going, and I can perceive he hardens. Perhaps I may go before the holidays commence, which will be on the tenth of this month. I mean that he shall be two years at Eton, then two at Edinburgh, and then study Civil Law, etc. in Holland and Germany. If he lives he will have £8000 a year, for my estate is rising every year; and the lands life-rented by my step- mother, if properly managed, would yield £500 a year. My second son is an extraordinary boy : he is much of his father (vanity of vanities). He is to be a bar- rister, and I am very desirous to train him properly. He is of a delicate constitution, but not unhealthy, and his spirit never fails him. He is still in the house with me ; indeed he is quite my companion, though only eleven in September. He goes in the day to the academy in Soho Square, kept by the Rev. Dr. Barrow, formerly of Queens', Oxford, a coarse north- countryman, but a very good scholar ; and there my boy is very well taught. After the holidays I am to take resolution and board my little James somcioherc, for while under my roof he passes his time chiefly with my old housekeeper and my footman. What shall I do ? Solio is a competently good place, but there arc few boys there but of an inferior rank ; yet is it not 316 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. injustice to a good master, should I remove my son ? The boy wishes much to go to Eton, because his bro- ther is there; I, on the other hand, think it better they should be separate, and wish to place him at Westminster. To that there is the objection of danger to his morals, which however is answered by the boys there not being worse than at other schools, and by the first people in the nation continuing to keep their sons there. The eclat of Westminster, I think, would be of service to him, and I have a great respect for Vincent, the present Head- master. I am not sure whether I have mentioned to you with what re- spect I found myself treated at Eton ; how, the first time I went, Dr. Davies carried me to dine with him at the Fellows' table, and the next time had me to dine at his own house, with an excellent company, both ladies and gentlemen. I certainly have some talent at making the most of myself, to a certain extent ; but I have as yet done nothing essential and permanent for my advantage. I cannot help thinking how strangely it has hap- pened, that I have never yet had, properly speaking, the advantages of a man of fortune, but have been continually straitened. My excellent wife was at less expense than any woman, even of much inferior rank, and my genteel appearance has been occasional only ; yet I do believe I have had more enjoyment than many who have grand establishments. I have above £1000 (lu(3 to me out of the patrimonies of my wife's nc- [)lic\vs, which 1 lio})(' will be paid in the course of a year MONUMENT TO DR. JOHNSON. 317 and half, or a part of it this year, when I hope also to get payment of poor Johnston's debt. The week before last I indulged myself by giving one dinner. I had Wilkes, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Plood the Irish orator, Malone, Courtenay, Governor Penn, grandson of old William, and who brought over the petition from Congress, which was obstinately and un- wisely rejected, and my brother David ; we had a very good day. Would I were but able to give many such dinners ! Malone gives them without number. Last Sunday I dined with him, wdth Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Metcalfe, Mr. Windham, Mr. Courtenay, and young Mr. Burke, being a select num- ber of Dr. Johnson's friends, to settle as to effectual measures for having a monument erected to him in Westminster Abbey : it is to be a whole-length statue of him, by Bacon, which will cost £600. Sir Joshua and Sir William Scott, his executors, are to send cir- cular letters to a number of people, of whom we make a list, as supposing they will contribute. Several of us subscribed five guineas each. Sir Joshua and Met- calfe ten guineas each, Courtenay and young Burke two guineas each. Will you not be one of us, were it but for one guinea ? We expect that the Bench of Bishops will be liberal, as he was the greatest sup- porter of the hierarchy. That venerable sound brings to my mind the ruffians of France, who are attempting to destroy all order, ecclesiastical and civil. The pre- sent state of that country is an intellectual earthquake, a whirlwind, a mad insurrection, without any im- 318 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. mediate cause, and therefore we see to what a horri- ble anarchy it tends. I do not mean that the French ought not to have a Habeas- Corpus Act, but I know nothing more they wanted. I wish you joy of your young sailor's return. What a feeling it must have been to see him again after a three years' absence ! You must be somewhat in the situation of a hen who has hatched ducks. A sea life must seem very nnnatu_ral to you ; I am sure it does so to me. Is not this a long letter ? but it is too much about myself. Alas ! I read almost nothing. I am how- ever just ending the ' European Settlements in Ame- rica,' for the first time : it is an admirable compend. Burke said to me, " I did not wTite it ; I do not deny that a friend did, and 1 revised it." Malone tells me that it was written by Will Burke, the consin of Ed- mund, when they were in Wales ; but it is everywhere evident that Burke himself has contributed a great deal to it. Now, my dear friend, let not your correspondence flag : let us write often, though short. Perhaps you will be here in the Spring. My visit to you must be deferred till my Work is printed and the weather is fine. Poor John Dun will be a sad loser by his Ser- mons, etc. Could you get him no subscribers ? Best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to all the children. Ever yours, J. B. 'life of Johnson' in the press. 310 82.] London, Stlt Feb. 1790. My clear Temple, It is a long time since I wrote you a letter of twelve pages, to which I have received no return ; and, not- withstanding our mutual allowance for unaccountable indolence and procrastination, I am uneasy at your long silence. Pray then write. Both my sons have had severe rash fever. The eldest, after much childish murmuring, reconciled him- self to Eton : he came home for the holidays, but was soon taken ill, and is yet so weak that he is not returned to school, though it is three weeks after the time. I hope to have him at his proper station in a day or two. My second boy, after the rash was over, had a severe fever, produced by the dregs of the rash- fever, so that I was much alarmed for him, and called Dr. Warren, who attended him for some time. I thank God he is now pretty well. By Dr. Warren's advice, I am now resolved to send him to Westmin- ster School. Warren has three of his own sons there, and assures me that they are very healthy. I still keep on my house in Queen Ann Street West, having taken it till Midsummer, upon my finding that cham- bers in the Temple, which I thought I had secured, were let to me by a person who had not a right. It is better that I am still here, for I am within a short walk of Mr. Malone, who revises my ' Life of John- son' with me. We have not yet gone over quite a half of it, but it is at last fairly in the Press. I intended to have printed it uj)()ii what is called an A;/y//.s7/ 320 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. ]ettcr, which would have made it look better ; but, upon calculation, it would have made two quarto volumes, and two quarto volumes for one Life would have ap- peared exorbitant, though in truth it is a view of much of the literature, and many of the literary men, of Great Britain for more than half a century. I have there- fore taken a smaller type, called Pica, and even upon that I am afraid its bulk will be very large. It is cu- rious to observe how a printer calcidates : he arranges a number of pages, and the words in them, at differ- ent parts of the "copy" (as the MS. is called), and so finds the number of words. Mine here are four hundred and one thousand six hundred. Does not this frighten you ? By printing a page, the number of words it holds is discovered ; and, by dividing the sum total of words by that number, we get the num- ber of pages. ]Mine will be, we reckon, eight hundred. T think it will be without exception the most entertain- ing book you ever read. I cannot be done with print- ing before the end of August. You will have seen that Johnson's friends have been exerting themselves for his Monument, which is to cost six hundred guineas. We have now near to £400 of the money. Can we have no Cornish coin ? I wish von could assist us in vour neie-hbourhood. As vour character of Gray was adopted by him,* it would appear well if you sent two guineas. We shall have a great * The Subscription List will show any reader who is curious on tlic matter if this inducement influenced JNTr. Temple to subscribe to - object I should act accordingly, supposing I could really see a prospect of mutual happiness. I am sorry that the delusion is not yet quite gone ; it will trouble your mind in many views, but I flatter myself you will get the better of it. It pleases me nmch that you think so well of my daughters ; and in truth, when my judgment is clear and my temper not irritated, I think of thein as you do. My brother has had a letter from John James, — 350 LETTERS OF BOS WELL. iHueh better reconciled to Eton : be not then uneasy about him. I am not yet in a frame to write as I could wish to you ; I can only assure you of my regret that I was so ill when you were last with me, and that I ever am, my dear friend, Yours most afiPectionately, James Boswell. P.S. — Best compliments from my daughters and James. 351 CHAPTER XIX. 1794-1795. INDISPOSITION. FRENCH REVOLUTION. INTEMPERANCE AND REMORSE. — SERIOUS ILLNESS. LETTERS FROM BOSWELL's SON AND BROTHER. BOSWELL's DEATH. In a letter to his father (April the 8th, 1795) the younger Mr. Temple, after acknowledging the kind- ness which Miss Boswell and her sister had shown him, proceeds to mention that "" a few nights ago Mr. BoswxU returned from the Literary Club quite weak and languid." He however recovered from this attack, at least partially ; but the disease had laid hold of his weakened constitution, and Mr. Temple hears in a few days of the serious illness of his friend, from whom he receives only one more letter in his own handwriting. The last letter he had from Boswell, before his final illness, is as follows : — 96.] London, Zlst May, 1794. My dear Temple, Your fall has suggested serious and anxious thoughts indeed. In a moment, that awful separation which 352 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. we SO nuicli dread might have taken place. How thankful am I that it is no worse ! That you have been upon horseback again is a sign that no essential and lasting injury has been sustained. All your packets came safely. It would have ap- peared better if you had divided them by two posts ; but Courtenay is very good, as a private friend, and, as he lives very near me, I get my letters veiy speedily.* You have taken great pains in reading and tran- scribing such a number of Illustrations, which are tridy strong warnings against the horrible proceedings in Prance. But ^Ir. Dilly would not risk printing even the Sermon ; and the Illustrations would occasion double or treble the expense. Mr. Malone is clear that a Fast Sermon would not sell now j so is the Bishop of Salisbury, whom I consulted. His Lordship said, that if you, in order to do good, should print your Sermon, you may give it away ; but that such a number of writings against the French Revolution have now ap- peared, that a Sermon on the subject would not be bought. You must console yourself with your worthy intentions, and labor ipse voluntas. I am shocked to hear of the scandalous conduct of three of your Cor- nish clergymen. Indeed, every man who is not zealous against every democratical motion at present appears to me infatuated. From what you write, I am glad I saw no more of Grantham when he was in town ; I send you his letter to me. * Mr. Courtenay's franks freqiiently appear on Boswell's letters. boswell's last letter. 353 I thank you sincerely for your friendly admonition on my frailty in indulging so much in wine. I do re- solve aneio to be upon my guard, as I am sensible how very pernicious as well as disreputable such a habit is. How miserably have I yielded to it in various years ! Recollect what General Paoli said to you, — recollect what happened at Berwick. You seem too violent against D on account of Miss M -. I have heard " alteram partem." But I will try to persuade him to get the apothecary's bill paid for her. You must not consider her by any means as having the extraordinary strong claims on the Admiral. The £40 annuity will, I doubt not, bo certain. The post-bell rings. Yours ever, J. B. 97.] My dear Temple, I would fain write to you in my own hand, but really cannot. [These words, which are hardly legible, and probably the last poor Bos well ever wrote, afford the clearest evidence of his utter physical prostration.] Alas, my friend, what a state is this ! My son James is to write for me what remains of this letter, and T am to dictate. The pain which continued for so many weeks was very severe indeed, and when it went off" I thought myself quite well ; but I soon felt a convic- tion that I was by no means as I should be — so ex- ceedingly weak, as my miserable attempt to write to 2 A 354 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. you afforded a full proof. All then that can be said is, that I must wait Avith patience. But, O my friend ! how strange is it that, at this very time of my illness, you and j\liss Temple shoidd have been in such a dangerous state. Much occasion for thankfulness is there that it has not been worse with you. Pray write, or make somebody write, fre- quently. I feel myself a good deal stronger today, notwithstandhig the scrawl. God bless you, my dear Temple ! I ever am your old and affectionate friend, here and I trust hereafter, James Boswell. To this letter the following lines from his son James are appended : — Postscript. Dear Sir, You will find by the foregoing, the whole of which was dictated by my father, that he is ignorant of the dangerous situation in which he was, and, I am sorry to say, still continues to be. Yesterday and today he has been somewhat better, and we trust that the nou- rishment which he is now able to take, and his strong constitution, will support him through. I remain, with respect, James Boswell, Jun. Another note, of April Sth, 1795, is also annexed to the above, as follows : — bosvvell's last illness. 355 Reverend Sir, My lather being still unable to write, I again give yon what information I can, which is only that he continued for a considerable time, since I wrote last, to be in a state of extraordinary pain and weakness. He is now, I thank God, a great deal recovered, and the pain almost gone : the greatest care is taken of him. The advice of Dr. Warren, Mr. Earle the sur- geon, Mr, Devaynes the apothecary, and Mr. Kingston, who has been bred up under him, have all in their different departments contributed towards the re- covery. I am, with great regard. Reverend Sir, Your obedient humble servant, James Boswell, Jun. & A few days later, Boswell suffers a relapse. Bein anxious that his friend Temple shoidd hear from him, he directs his son James to write, which he does to to the following effect : — • Great Portland Street, nth April, 1795. My father desires me to tell you, that on Tuesday evening he was taken ill with a fever, attended with a severe shivering and violent headache, disorder in his stomach and throwing up : he has been close con- fined to bed ever since. lie thinks himself better 2 A 2 35G LETTERS OF BOSAVELL. today, but cannot conjecture when he shall recover. His affection for you remains the same. You will receive a long and full letter from him. I am, Reverend Sir, Your most obedient, humble servant, James Boswell, Jun. The disease is however not to be conquered, and there remains but little hope. Boswell's brother thus writes a few days later (on the 4th of May :) — " I am sorry to say my poor brother is in the most imminent danger ; a swelhng in his bladder has mortified, but he is yet alive, and God Almighty may restore him to us !" The weakness increases, and baffles the skill of Dr. Warren, one of the most eminent practitioners of the day, and who had attended, it w^ill be remembered, Dr. Johnson on his deathbed. The two following letters tell the concluding part of the sad story : — Monday, ISt/i May, 1795. Dear Sir, I am sorry to inform you that, since I wrote last, my father is considerably worse ; he is weaker, and almost all the nourishment he takes comes off his stomach again. He had expressed a very earnest desire to be lifted out of bed, and Mr. Earle, the surgeon, thought it might be done with safety ; but his strength was not equal to it, and he fiiinted away. Since that, he has THE LAST SCENE. 357 been in a very bad way indeed, and there are now, 1 fear, little or no hopes of his recovery. I am, dear Sir, With greatest respect, yours, etc. James Boswell (Jun.). • London, I'dth Mai/, 1795. My dear Sir, I have now the painful task of informing you that my dear brother expired this morning at two o'clock : we have both lost a kind, affectionate friend, and I shall never have such another. He has suffered a great deal during his illness, which has lasted five weeks, but not much in his last moments. May God Almighty have mercy upon his soul, and receive him into His heavenly kingdom ! He is to be buried at Auchinleck, for which place his sons will set out in two or three days. They and his two eldest daugh- ters have behaved in the most affectionate, exemplary manner during his confinement : they all desire to be kindly remembered to you and Miss Temple, and beg your sympathy on this melancholy occasion. I am, my dear Sir, Your affectionate, humble servant, T. 1). Boswell. The remains of Boswell were removctl to Auciiin- Icck to be interred. On his coffin-plate was inscribed 358 LETTERS OF BOSWELL. his name, the date of his death, (May 19th, 1795,) and his age, fifty-five years.* Thus terminated in this world the career of James Boswell ; it cannot be said prematurely, for he had finished the work allotted him. The particular and perhaps anomalous part appointed for him to play on the stage of Life, was now played out. Although the preceding pages may have disclosed undoubted defects in Boswell's character, yet they also exhibit genuine and excellent qualities, for which the world hitherto has not given him credit ; and w^hich indeed are all the more to be admired from the fact that they were never extinguished — though they may have been occasionally obscured — by the lower and ignoble influences to which his imperfect nature was imfortunately subject. * The date assigned to his birth is October 29th, 1740. 359 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. It has been already noticed in tlic Introdnction to this Volume, that Boswell carried on and published a humorous correspondence with the Hon. Andrew Ersldne.* Some specimens of this are here subjoined. The Advertisement to the Volume containing these Epistles sets forth, as the grounds for their publica- tion, the universal "curiosity" which prevails with re- gard to reading other people's letters. The main rea- sons however for reprinting some of them now are, that they are both funny and illustrative, in some de- gree, of one portion of the minor literature of the last century. Captain Erskine, as well as his correspondent, af- fected literature, having published, amongst other trifles, certain ' Town Eclogues.' The object of these verses was, says the author, " to expose the false taste for florid descriptions which prevail so universally in modern poetry." The Eclogues, although not devoid of humour, do not merit restoration to the literature of our own day. * k3U(; also page IG. 360 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Tlie correspondence between Erskine and Boswell is commenced by the latter, as follows : — Auchinlecl', Avgnd 2r)th, 1761. Dear Ei'skine, No ceremony, I beseech you ! Give me your hand. How is my honest Captain Andrew ? How goes it with the elegant, gentle Lady A ? the lovely, sighing Lady J ? and how, oh, how, does that glorious luminary Lady B do ? You see I retain my usual volatility. The Boswells, you know, came over from Normandy with Wilham the Conqueror; and some of us possess the spirit of our ancestors, the French. I do, for one. A pleasant spirit it is. Vive la hagatelle ! is the maxim. A hght heart may bid defiance to fortune. And yet, Erskine, I must tell you that I have been a little pensive of late, amorously pensive,* and disposed to read Shenstone's Pastoral on Absence, the tenderness and simplicity of which I greatly admire. A man who is in love is like a man who has got the toothache : he feels most acute pain, while nobody pities him. In that situation am I at present, but well do I knoAV that I will not be long so. So much for inconstancy ! As this is my first epistle to you, it cannot in decency be a long one. Pray write to me soon. Your letters, I prophesy, will entertain me not a little ; and will, besides, be * By a comparison with the letters to Mr. Temple of this date the reader might discover, if desirous of so doing, who was the fair one now charming Boswell's imagination.— P^D. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 361 extremely serviceable in many important respects ; they will supply me with oil to my lamps, grease to my wheels, and blacking to my shoes. They will fur- nish me with strings to my fiddle, lashes to my whip, lining to my breeches, and buttons to my coat. They will make charming spurs, excellent knee-buckles, and inimitable watch-keys. In short, while they last I shall neither want breakfast, dinner, nor supper. I shall keep a couple of horses, and I shall sleep upon a bed of down ; I shall be in France this year, and in Spain the next ; with many other particulars too tedious to mention. You may take me in a meta- phorical sense, but I would rather choose to be under- stood literally. I am Your most affectionate friend, James Boswell. From Erskine to Boswell. Kelly, September lith, 1701. Hail ! mighty Boswell ! at thy awful name The fainting Muse relumes her sinking flame. Behold how high the towering blaze aspires, While Fancy's waving pinions fan my lii'es ! Swells the full song ? it swells alone from thee, Some spark of thy bright genius kindles me ! " But softly, Sir," I hear you cry, " This wild bombast is rather dry: I hate your d — n'd insipid song, That sullen stalks in lines so long ; Come, give us short ones, like to Butler, Or likt; our friend Auchinleck, the culler." 362 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. A Poet, Sir, whose fame is to suijport, Must ne'er wiite verses tripping, pert, and short : Who ever saw a judge himself disgi'ace, By trotting to the bench with hasty pace ? I swear, dear Sir, you're really in the wrong ; To make a line that's good, I say, James, make it long. You see, Sir, I have quite the best of the argument, aud indeed I was determined not to give it up till you acknowledged yourself vanquished ; so to verse I go again, tooth and nail.* How well you talk of glory and the Guards, Of fighting heroes, and their gTeat rewards ! Our eyes behold you glow with martial flame, Our ears attend the never-ceasing theme. Past from your tongue the rousing accents flow. And horror darkens on your sable brow ! "We hear the thunder of the rolling war. And see red Victory shouting from her car ! Yoir kindly took me up, an awkward cub, And introduced me to the Soaping Club,t AYhere, every Tuesday-eve, our ears are blest "With genuine humour and with genuine jest ; The voice of mii-th ascends the list'ning sky. While, soap his own beard every man, you cry. Say, who could e'er indulge a yawn or nap. When Barclay:}: roars forth Snip, and Bainbiidge Snap?| * Boswell was desirous, at this time, of entering the Guards, with the same object that not a few others before and since have had, viz. that of commanding the pleasures aud adventures of the Metropolis. — Ed. t The Soaping Club — a club in Edinburgh, the motto of which was, " Eveiy man soap his own beard ; or. Every man indulge his own humour." Their game was that facetious one, " Snip, Snap, Snorum." (See the Introductory Chapter to this volume. — Ed.) X Barclay and Bainbridge, two members of this Club. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 363 Tell me how I your favours may return ; With thankfulness and gratitude I burn. I've one advice, — oh, take it, I imj^lore ! Search out America's untrodden shore ; There seek some vast Savannah rude and wild, Where Europe's sons at slaughter never smiled, With fiend-like arts, insidious to betray The sooty natives as a lawful prey. At you th' astonish'd savages shaU stare, And hail you as a god, and call you fair : Your blooming beauty shall umivaU'd shine, And Captain Andrew's* whiteness yield to thine. In reality I 'm under vast obligations to you. It was you who first made me thoroughly sensible (in- deed, I very readily believed it) of the excellencies of my own poetry ; and about that time I made two wonderful discoveries, to wit, that you was a sensible man, and that I was a good poet, — discoveries which, I dare say, are yet doubted by some incredulous people. Boswell, I shall not praise yonr letter, be- cause I know you have an aversion at being thought a genius or a wit. The reluctance with which you always repeat your Cub,f and the gravity of counte- nance which you always assume upon that occasion, are convincing proofs of this assertion. You hate flattery too ; but in spite of your teeth I must tell you, that you are the best poet and the most humour- ous letter-writer I know ; and that you have a finer complexion, and dance better, than any man of my * The writers of these Letters, instead of being rivals in wit, were rivals in complexion. f A poem, ode, or perhaps 'piece' of Boswell's composition. — Ed. 364 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. acquaintance. For my part, I actually think you would make an excellent Champion at the approaching Coro- nation. What though malevolent critics may say you are too little ? yet you are a Briareus in comparison of Tydeus, the hero of Statius's Thebais; and if he was not a warrior, then am I, Andrew Erskine, Lieutenant in the 71st Regiment, blind of one eye, humpbacked, and lame in both legs. We are all tired so much of the Highlands, that we had not been there three weeks before we all came away again. Lady B is gone a-visiting, and the rest of us are come to Kelly. It was most unaccountable in me to leave New Tarbat, for nowhere will you meet with such fine ingredients for poetical description. However we are all going back again when Mr. M comes from London ; so some time in October you may expect a most cordial invitation. This is all at present (according to the simple but eloquent expression of the vulgar) from your sincere friend, Andrew Erskine. [To the above letter Boswell replied in rhyme, until he reaches the last paragraph, vvhen he condescends to the following prose passage, which is characteristic enough of the writer.] . I cannot stop yet. Allow me a few more words. I live here in a remote corner of an old ruinous house,* where my ancestors have been very * Aucliiiileck. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE, 365 jovial. What a solemn idea rushes on my mind ! They are all gone : I must follow: Well, and what then ? Let mo shift about to another subject. The best I can think of is a sound sleep : so good night ! and believe me yours, James Boswell. Neio Tarhat, Nov. 23, 17()1. Dear Boswell, As we never hear that Demosthenes could broil beefsteaks, or Cicero poach eggs, we may safely con- clude that these gentlemen understood nothing of cookery. In hke manner, it may be concluded that you, James Boswell, and I, Andrew Erskine, cannot write serious epistles. This, as Mr. Tristram says, I deny ; for this letter of mine shall contain the quint- essence of sohdity ; it shall be a piece of boiled beef and cabbage, a roasted goose, and a boiled leg of pork and greens : in one word, it shall contain advice, sage and mature advice. Oh, James Boswell ! take care and don't break your neck, pray don't fracture your sknll, and be very cautious in your manner of tum- bling down precipices ; beware of falling into coalpits, and don't drown yourself in every pool you meet with. Having thus warned you of the most material dangers which your youth and inexperience will be ready to lead you into, I now proceed to others less momen- tary indeed, but very necessary to be strictly observed. Go not near the Soaping Club; never mention Drury 300 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Lane playhouse ; be attentive to those pinchbeck buckles which fortune has so graciously given you, of which I am afraid you 're hardly fond enough ;* never wash your face, but above all forswear poetry ; from experience I can assure you, and this letter may serve as a proof, that a man may be as dull in prose as in verse ; and as dullness is what Ave aim at, prose is the easiest of the two. Oh, my friend, profit by these my instructions ! think that you see me studying for your advantage, my reverend locks overshadowing my paper, my hands trembling, and my tongue hang- ing out, a figure of esteem, affection, and veneration. By heavens, Boswell ! I love you more but this I think may be more conveniently expressed in rhyme. " More than a herd of swine a kennel mnddy. More than a brilliant belle polemic study, More than fat Falstaif loved a cup of sack, More than a guilty criminal the rack, More than attorneys love by cheats to thrive, And more than witches to be burnt alive." I begin to be afraid that we shall not see you here this winter, which will be a great loss to you. If ever you travel into foreign parts, as Machiavel used to say, everybody abroad will require a description of New * Boswell had, as has been akeady seen, a great fondness for dress, which he has thus defended. " It has been certainly remarked that the most gallant men have been fond of elegance of dress. . . . and a very brave modern General, Lord Marck Kerr, is celebrated equally for his determined courage and his tine clothes" {llypo- choyidriac Papers). — Boswell, who was it is said partial to witnessing executions, might have noted the same passion in certain desperate scoundrels at Tyburn. — Ep. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 367 Tarbat* from you. That you may not appear totally ridiculous aud iibsurd, I shall send you some little account of it. Imagine then to yourself what Thomson would call an interminable plain, interspersed in a lovely manner with beautiful green hills. The seasons here are only shifted by Summer and Spring. Winter, with his fur cap and his cat-skin gloves, was never seen in this charming retreat. The castle is of Gothic structure, awful and lofty ; there are fifty bedchambers in it, with halls, saloons, and galleries without num- ber. Mr. M 's father, who was a man of infinite liumour, caused a magniticent lake to be made, just before the entry of the house. His diversion was to peep out of his window, and see the people who came to visit him skipping through it, for there was no other passage ; then he used to put on such huge fires to dry their clothes that there was no bearing them. He used to declare that he never thought a man good company till he was half-drowned and half-burnt; but if in any part of his life he had narrowly escaped hanging (a thing not uncommon in the Highlands) he would perfectly doat upon him, and whenever the story was told him he was ready to choke himself. But to return. Everything here is in the grand and sublime style. But, alas ! some envious magician, with his d — d enchantments, has destroyed all these beauties. By his potent art the house with so many bedchambers in it cannot conveniently lodge above a * New Tarbat, a wild Scat iu tlic Western liighlands of Scot- land sun'ounded witli nioiuitains. 368 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. dozen people. The room which I am writing in just now is in reahty a handsome parlour of twenty feet by sixteen, though in my eyes and to all outward appear- ance it seems a garret of six feet by four. The mag- nificent lake is a dirty puddle, the lovely plain a rude, wild country covered with the most astonishing high black mountains; the inhabitants, the most amiable race under the sun, appear now to be the ugliest, and look as if they were overrun with the itch : their deli- cate limbs, adorned with finest silk stockings, are now bare and very dirty ; but to describe all the transfor- mations would take up more paper than Lady B , from whom I had this, would choose to give me. My own metamorphosis is indeed so extraordinary that I must make you acquainted with it. You know I am really very thick and short, prodigiously talkative, and wonderfully impudent : now I am thin and tall, strangely silent, and very bashful. If these things con- tinue, who is safe ? Even you, Boswell, may feel a change. Your fair and transparent complexion may turn black and oily, your person little and squat, and who knows but you may eternally rave about the King of Great Britain's Guards, — a species of madness from which good Lord deliver us ! I have often wondered, Boswell, that a man of your taste in music cannot play upon the Jew's-harp ; there are some of us here that touch it very melodiously, I can tell you. Corelli's solo of ' Maggie Lauder,' and Pergolesi's sonata of 'The Carle he came o'er the Craft,' are excellently adapted to that instrument. Let BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 369 me advise you to learn it. The first cost is but three - halfpence, and they last a long time. I have com- posed the following Ode upon it, which exceeds Pindar as much as the Jew's-harp does the organ. Ode upon a Jew's-Harp. I. Sweet instrument ! which, fixed in yellow teeth, So clear, so sprightly, and so gay is found, Whether you breathe along the shores of Leith, Or Lomond's lofty clifi^s thy strains resound ; Struck by a taper finger's gentle tip, Oh, softly in our ears thy pleasing murmurs slip ! II. Where'er thy lively music 's found, AU are jumping, dancing round ; Ev'n trusty William lifts a leg, And capers like sixteen with Peg : Both old and young confess thy powerful sway. They skip like madmen, and they frisk away. III. Eoused by the magic of the charming air. The yawning dogs forgo their heavy slumbers ; The ladies listen on the narrow stair, And Captain Andrew straight forgets his numbers. Cat and mice give o'er their battling, Pewter plates on shelves are rattling. But, falling down, the noise my lady hears. Whose scolding drowns the trump more tuneful than the spheres ! Having thus, Boswell, written you a most enter- taining letter, with which you are highly pleased, to your great grief I give over, in these or the like words, Your affectionate friend, Andrew Erskine. 2 B 370 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. EdinburgJi, Bee. 2, 1761. Dear Erskine, Notwithstanding of yoiu' affecting elegy on the death of two pigs, I am just now returned from eating a most excellent one with the most magnificent Donald- son. I msh you would explain to me the reason of my being so very hard-hearted as to discover no manner of reluctance at that innocent animal's being brought to table well roasted. I will confess to you, my friend, that I fed upon it with so small alacrity, neither do I feel any pangs of remorse for having so done. The reason perhaps lies so deep as to elude oiu* keenest penetration : at the same time give me leave to offer my conjecture, which you may have by a little trans- mutation of a vulgar adage, in such manner as to ob- tain at one and the same time (so to speak) not only strong reason for my alleged inhumanity, but also an apparent pun and a seeming paradox, all which you have for the small and easy charge of saying, " The belly has no bowels," I do assure you, the imperial sovereign of Pope's Head, Caledonian Dodsley, Scottish BaskervUle, and Captain- General of Collective Bards, entertained us most sumptuously. I question much if Captain Er- skine himself ever fared better; although I was the only author in the company, which, I own, surprised me not a little. Donaldson is undoubtedly a gentleman perfectly skilled in the art of insinuation. His dinners are the most eloquent addresses imaginable. For my own part, I am never a sharer in one of his copious BOSWELL AND EHSKINE. 371 repasts, but I feel my heart warm to the landlord, and spontaneously conceive this expressive soliloquy, — Upon my word, I must give him another hundred lines. Now, my dear Captain, tell me how is it with you, after reading this ? With what feeling are you most strongly possessed ? But as this depends a good deal upon the time of the day at which you receive my epistle, I shall make no farther inquiry. Thus, Sir, have I unbosomed the big exultation which possessed me upon occasion of what some of the Fathers woidd call splendidiim prandium, — Eng- lished thus, ' a splendid dinner.' Are you not all this time very much astonished, nay somewhat piqued, that I have as yet made no mention of your last, notwithstanding of the wonder- ful enchantments which you relate, the sagacious ad- vices which you give, and the ' Ode to a Jew's-Harp,' which you add ? Forgive me, good Captain ; blame Donaldson. Write to me whenever you have anything that you wish to say, and believe me Yours, James Boswell. P.S. — Are you not very proud of your Ode to Mid- night? Lord K * calls it the best poem in the English language, but it will not be long so ; for, in imitation of it, I have written an ' Ode to Gluttony,' of which take two stanzas. * Lord Keilic. 2 B 2 372 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Hail, Gluttony ! Oh let me eat Immensely at thy awful board, On which to serve the stomach meet, What art and nature can afford. I'll furious cram, devoid of fear. Let but the roast and boil'd appear : Let me but see a smoking dish, I care not whether fowl or fish ; Then rush, ye floods of ale, adown my throat, And in my belly make the ^-ictuals float ! II. And yet why trust a gi'easy cook. Or give to meat the time of play. While every trout gulps down a hook, And poor dumb beasts harsh butchers slay ? Why seek the dull, sauce-smelling gloom Of the beef-haimted dining-room ; Wliere D — r gives to every guest. With liberal hand, whate'er is best ; While you in vain th' insm-ance must invoke To give securitv vou shall not choke? Edinburgh, December 8, 1761. Dear Erskine, It is a very strange thing that I, James Boswell, Esq., " who am happily possessed of a facihty of man- ners" (to use the very words of Mr. Professor Smith, which, upon honour, were addressed to me, — I can produce the letter in which they are to be found), I say it is a very strange thing that T should ever be at a loss how to express myself ; and yet, at this moment of my existence, that is really the case. IVIay Lady BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 87^ B say unto me, "Boswell, I detest thee!" if I am not in downright earnest. Mankind are such a perverse race of beiugs, that they never fail to lay hold of every circumstance tend- ing to their own praise, while they let slip every cir- cumstance tending to their censure. To illustrate this by a recent example : yon see I accurately remember Mr. Smith's beautiful — I shall even grant you, just — compliment, but have quite forgot his severe criticism on a sentence so clumsily formed as to require an / say to keep it together, which I myself candidly thhik much resembles a pair of ill-mended breeches. Having a mind, Erskine, to open a sluice of hap- piness upon you, I must inform you that I have lately got yon an immensity of applause from men of the greatest taste. You know I read rather better than any man in Britain, so that your Works had a very uncommon advantage. I was pleased at the praise which you received ; I was vain of having such a cor- respondent. I thought I did not envy you a bit ; and yet, I don't know, I felt somehow as if I could like to thrash you pretty heartily ; however, I have one com- fort in thinking that all this praise would not have availed you a single curl of Sir Cloudesly Shovel's periwig, had not I generously reported it to you ; so that, in reality, you are obliged to me for it. The second volume of the Poems* will not be pub- lished till January; Captain Erskine will make a very good figure, — Boswell a decent one. * These voluiiips of poems by Scotch gentlemen have been men- tioned in the Introductory (Jiiaptev. — }^\). 374 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Lady B entreats me to come and pass the Christmas holidays with her. Guess, guess ! what transport I felt at reading that ; I did not know how to contain my elevation of spirits. I thought myself one of the greatest geniuses in Europe ; I thought I could write all sorts of books, and work at all handi- craft trades ; I imagined that I had fourscore millions of money out at interest, and that I should actually be chosen Pope at the next election. I obtest you, my friend, in the warmest spirit of love, to return her Ladyship my most sincere thanks, and tell her, that when the planets permit us to meet, she herself shall judge how richly I can express my gratitude. Although I am a good deal of a Don Quixote, yet I feel myself averse to so long a journey. Believe me, I am as sweetly indolent as any genius in all his Majesty's dominions, so that, for my own incitement, I must propose the following scheme. You, Captain Andrew, shall, upon Monday the twenty-eighth day of the present month, set out from New Tarbat in Mr. M 's chaise, and meet me at Glasgow that even- ing. Next day shall we both, in friendly guise, get into the said chaise, and drive with velocity to your present habitation, where I shall remani till the Mon- day se'nnight ; on which day I shall be in like manner accompanied back to Glasgow, from thence to make my way, as well as I can, to the Scottish Metropolis. I have told the story of my scheme rather awkwardly, but it will have its advantages. I shall have a couple of days more of your classical company, and some- BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 375 what less to pay, which, to a poet, is no slender con- sideration. I shall chaise it the whole way, — thanks to the man who first invented that comfortable method of jour- neying ! had it not been for that, I dare say both you and I would have circumscribed our travels within a very few miles. For my own part, I think to dress myself in a great-coat and boots, and get astride a horse's back and be jolted through the mire, perhaps in wind and rain, is a punishment too severe for all the oflFences which I can charge myself with. Indeed I have a mortal antipathy to riding, and that was the true reason for my refusing a regiment of dragoons which the King of Prussia offered me at the beginning of this war. I know indeed the Mareschal Duke de Belleisle, in his ' Political Testament,' has endeavoured to persuade the world that it was owing to my having a private amour with a lady of distinction in the Aus- trian Court; but that Minister was too deeply immersed in State intrigues to Is now much about those of a more tender nature. The tumultuous hurry of business and ambition left no room in his mind for the delicious delicacy of sentiment and passion, so very essential to a man of gallantry. I think, Erskine, in this scheme of mine I am play- ing a very sure game, for you must either indulge mc in every article which I have mentioned, or entertain me with a plentiful dish of well-dressed apologies. I beg it of you, however, don't put yourself to any in- convenience; indeed 1 might have saved myself the 376 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. trouble of making this request, for you are that kind of man that I beheve you would not put yourself to an inconvenience to be made a Lieutenant- General. Pray, shall we not see you here this winter at all? You ought to come and eat the fruit of your labours. I remain, Your most affectionate friend, James Boswell. I shall rouse Donaldson, as you desire ; I shall rouse him Uke a peal of thunder. I wonder what you will all think of this proposal of mine for delivering myself in folio. Ten days make a period, as I used to say : they bear some proportion to the whole of life. Write instantly. Sequel of the Ode to Gluttony. III. Ev'n now, upon his elbow-chair, A glutton surfeit-struck reclines ; See him look round with frightful stare, And beg for drink with eager signs. His gullet stuff the unchew'd bits. He gi'oans and nods his head by fits ; His high-swoll'n cheeks, that were so red, With egg-sheU whiteness are o'erspread ; Ah ! quickly thump his back, lest, for a boast. Death fi'om his liver rive his bouncing ghost. IV. Ev'n now on venison much intent, The great John Bull, pleas'd with his fate. Gorges until his sides are rent. And glows voluptuous o'er his plate. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 377 He, while he eyes the godlike haunch, Rubs his rotundity of paunch ; Wliich, when replete in every chink. His Worship makes sublimely think : Or, an inveterate enemy to chat. Delighted views a splendid store of fat ! Bread fills the mouths of hungry clowns ; The blacksmith's clumsy grinders go ; The kitchens sweat thro' all the towns; The cock now fry'd no more shall crow. The baker tarts and cheesecakes brings ; The rusty jack, ear-grating, sings ; Each footman, with an angry voice, Damns the confounded creaking noise. The ham suspended, when the strings are broke. Assaults Bob's powder'd pate with dreadful stroke. And now, perhaps, the buxom wife Of Vintner Thom* considts her spouse, How those who play the keenest knife. She best may feast within her house. She sees before hev mind's clear glass, All sorts of fresh provisions pass ; She makes pots, pans, and spits be scour'd, For dressing what shall be devour'd. Haste ! let me thither hie with puqjose good, To swallow monstrous quantities of food ! New Tar bat, December 13, 17()J. Dear Boswell, All Ode to Tragedy, by a gentleman of Scotland, and dedicated to you If had there been only one s})ark * Thorn, in whose house the Soaping Club was always held. t This letter was occasioned by seeing an ' Ode to Tragedy,' 378 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. of curiosity in my whole composition, this would have raised it to a flame equal to the general conflagration. May G — d d — n me, as Lord Peter says, if the edge of my appetite to know what it can be about, is not as keen as the best razor ever used by a member of the Soaping Club. Go to Donaldson, demand from him two of my franks,* and send it me even before the first post. Write me, O write me, what sort of man this author is ! where he was born, how he was brought up, and with what sort of diet he has been principally fed. TeU me his genealogy, like Mr. M ; how many miles he has travelled in postchaises, like Colonel R ; tell me what he eats, like a cook ; what he drinks, like a wine-merchant ; what shoes he wears, like a shoemaker ; in what manner his mother was de- livered of him, like a man-midwife ; and how his room is furnished, like an upholsterer ; but if you happen to find it difficult to utter all this in terms befitting Mr. M , Colonel R , a cook, a wine-merchant, a shoemaker, a man-midwife, and an upholsterer, oh ! tell it me all in your manner, and in your own incom- parable style. Your scheme, Boswell, has met with — but the thoughts of this Ode-writing gentleman of Scotland again comes across me ! I must now ask, like the written by a gentleman of Scotland, and dedicated to James Bos- well, Esq., advertised in tlie Edinburgh newspapers : it al'tenvards appeared that the Ode was written by jVIi'. Boswell himself. * It niav perhaps be permitted to mention that this ' Ode to Tragedy' was certainly neither Avorth two franks nor one perusal. —Ed.' BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 379 ' Spectator,' is he fat or lean, tall or short ; does he use spectacles? what is the length of his walking- stick ? has he a landed estate ? has he a good coal- work ? Lord ! Lord ! what a melancholy thing it is to live twenty miles from a post-town ! why am I not in Edinburgh ? why am I not chained to Donaldson's shop ? I received both your letters yesterday, for we send to the post-house but once a week. I need not tell you how I liked them : were I to acquaint you with that, you would consecrate the pen with which they were written, and deify the inkhorn. I think the outside of one of them was adorned with the greatest quantity of good sealing-wax I ever saw, and my bro- ther A and Lady A , both of whom have a notable comprehension of these sort of things, agree with me in this my opinion. Your Ode to Gluttony is altogether excellent ; the descriptions are so lively, that, mistaking the paper on which they were written for a piece of bread and butter spread with marmalade, I fairly swallowed the whole composition, and I find my stomach increased threefold since that time. I declare it to be the most abominable whet in the world, superior to a solan goose, or white wine and bitters : it ought to be hung up in every cook's-shop in the three kingdoms, engraved on pillars in all market-places, and pasted in all rooms in all taverns. You seem to doubt in your first letter, if ever Captain Erskinc was better entertained by the great 380 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Donaldson than you was lately. Banish that opmion ; tell it not in Gath, nor publish it in Ascalon ; repeat it not in John's Coffee-house, neither whisper it in the Abbey of Holyrood House. No, I shall never forget the fowls and oyster-sauce which bedecked the board : fat were the fowls, and the oysters of the true Pandour or Croat kind. Then the apple-pie with raisins, and the mutton with calliflower, can never be erased from my remembrance. I may forget my native country, my dear brothers and sisters, my poetry, my art of mak- ing love, and even you, O Bosw^ell ! but these things I can never forget ; the impression is too deep, too well imprinted, ever to be effaced. I may turn Turk or Hottentot, I may be hanged for stealing a bag to adorn my hair, I may ravish all sorts of virgins young and old, I may court the fattest Wapping landlady, — but these things I can never forget. I may be sick and in prison, I may be deaf, dumb, and may lose my memory, — but these things I can never forget ! And now. Bos well, I am to acquaint you that your proposal is received with the utmost joy and festivity ; and the scheme, if I live till tomorrow fortnight, will be put in execution. The New Tarbat chaise will ar- rive at Glasgow on Monday evening the 2Sth of De- cember, drove by William. Captain Andrew's slim personage will slip out, he will inquire for James Bos- well, Esq. ; he will be shown into the room where he is sitting before a large fire, the evening being cold ; raptures and poetry will ensue, and every man will ' Soap his own Beard ;' every other article of the pro- BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 381 posals will be executed as faithfully as this. But to speak very seriously, you must be true to your ap- poiutment, and come with the utmost regularity upon the Monday. Think of my emotions at Grseme's if you should not come ; view my melancholy posture ! Hark ! I rave like Lady Wishfort, — no Boswell yet ! Boswell 's a lost thing ! I must receive a letter from you before I set out, telling me whether you keep true to your resolution, and pray send me the Ode to Tragedy. I beg you will bring me out in your pocket my Critical Review, which you may desire Donaldson to give you ; but, above all, employ Donaldson to get me a copy of ' Fingal,' which, tell him, I '11 pay him for : I long to see it. There are some things lately published in London which I should be glad to have, particularly a ' Spousal Hymn on the Marriage of the King and Queen,' and an ' Elegy on viewing a Ruined Pile of Buildings ;' see what you can do for me. I know you will not take it ill to be busied a little for that greatest of all poets Captain Andrew. The sluice of happiness you have let in upon me has quite overflowed the shallows of my understand- ing. At this moment I am determined to write more and print more than any man in the kingdom ; except the great Dr. Hill,* who writes a folio every month, a * The Dr. Hill here referred to was jiroljably the person who called himself Sir John Hill, lie was a very voluiriiuous author, chiefly on botanical subjects: his 'Vegetable System' is in twenty- six volumes folio. He also indulged in editing a scandalous news- 382 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. quarto every fortnight, an octavo every week, and a duodecimo every day. Hogarth has humorously re- presented a brawny porter almost sinking to the ground under a huge load of his Works. I am too lazy just now to copy out an Ode to Indolence, which I have lately written. Besides, it 's fitting I reserve some- thing for you to peruse when we meet, for upon these occasions an exchange of poems ought to be as regular as an exchange of prisoners between two nations at war. Believe me, dear Boswell, to be yours sincerely, Andrew Erskine. P.S. — Pray write me before I set out for Glasgow. The ' Ode to Tragedy,' by a gentleman of Scotland, good now ! wonderful ! Edinburgh, December nth, 1761. Dear Erskine, Had you but hinted a method of conveyance sooner than by the first post, sooner should the ' Ode to Tra- gedy' have saluted your longing eyes. At length it comes ! it comes ! Hark with what lofty music do the spheres proclaim its triumphal entry into the majestic edifice at Tarbat ! Behold the family gathered around it in a sort of quadrangular figure ! paper called the ' Inspector,' and was a rare example of science and scoundrelism, of industiy and quackery, being successfidly combined in one person. — Ed. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 383 Heavens ! what a picture of curiosity ! what a group of eager expectants ! They show their teeth, they rub their hands, they kick the floor ! But who is this, the fire of whose looks flames infinitely beyond the rest ? It is Captain Andrew ! it is ! it is ! Ye gods, he seizes ! he opens ! he reads ! Let us leave him : I can no more : it would stretch the strings too far to proceed. You must know I purposely neglected to send the Ode myself, and likewise prevented Donaldson from send- ing it immediately when it was published, in order to give full play to your impatience, I considered what amazing effects it must produce upon Captain Erskine to find in one advertisement an ' Ode to Tragedy,' a Gentleman of Scotland, Alexander Donaldson, and James Boswell, Esq. How far my conjecture was just your last letter does most amply testify. The author of the ' Ode to Tragedy' is a most ex- cellent man : he is of an ancient family in the west of Scotland, upon which he values himself not a little. At his nativity there appeared omens of his future greatness ; his parts are bright, and his education has been good ; he has travelled in postchaises miles with- out number ; he is fond of seeing much of the world ; he eats of every good dish, especially applepie; he drinks old hock; he has a very fine temper; he is somewhat of a humourist, and a little tinctured with pride ; he has a good, manly countenance, and he owns himself to be amorous ; he has infinite vivacity, yet is observed at times to have a melancholy cast; he is rather fat than lean, rather short than tall, rather 384 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. young than old; his shoes are neatly made, and he never wears spectacles. The length of his walking- stick is not as yet ascertained, but we hope soon to favour the republic of letters with a solution of this difficulty, as several able mathematicians are employed in its investigation, and for that purpose have posted themselves at different given points in the Canongate ; so that when the gentleman saunters down to the Ab- bey of Holyrood House, in order to think of ancient days, on King James the Fifth and on Queen Mary, they may compute its altitude above the street accord- ing to the rules of geometry. I hope you have received a line from me, fixing Thursday the 24th as the day of our meeting. I exult in the prospect of felicity that is before us. ' Fingal' and your ' Critical Review' shall accompany me. I will not anticipate your pleasure in reading the Highland Bard ; only take my word for it, he will make you feel that you have a soul. I shall remember your other commissions. Continue to trust me till you find me negligent. I beg it of you, for once be a Frenchman, and in the character of Boswell kneel, supplicate, worship Lady B . I remain. Your affectionate friend, James Boswell. BOSWELL AND EKSKINE. 385 Nejc Tarhat, December 16, 1761. Dear Boswell, Swift as pen can scratch, or ink can flow, as floods can rusli, or winds can blow, — which, you'fl observe, is a very pretty rhyme, — I sit down in a chair which has really a very bad bottom, being made of wood, and answer yonr epistle, which I received this moment ; it is dated on Saturday, the 14th, which was really the 12th, according to the computation of the best chronologists. This is a blunder which Sir Isaac New- ton would never have excused ; but I, a man no less great, forgive it from my soul ; and I here declare that I will never upbraid you with it in any company o)' conversation, even though that conversation should turn upon the quickest and most pleasant method of swallowing oysters, when you know I might very na- turally introduce it. I confess it's singularly silly in me to turn the page in this manner, and that I should have followed your example, or rather ensample, as some great judges of style usually write it. I see by the newspapers that ' Fingal' is to be published at Edinburgh in a few days ; pray bring it with you. I will undoubtedly meet you at Glasgow on the twenty-fourth of the month, being exactly that day which precedes Christmas, as was ingeniously observed by Mr. Sheridan in his fourth Lecture : and I hear he is going to publish a whole volume of discoveries, all as notable as this, which I imagine; will exceed his Lectures greatly. 2 386 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Pray now be faithful to this appointment, and so 1 commit this letter to the guidance of Providence, hoping that it will not miscarry or fail of being duly delivered. Believe me yours sincerely, Andrew Erskine, New Tarbat, January lOtk, 1762. Dear Boswell, Cicero, in his book of ' Office-houses,' defines ingra- titude to be ******«***^ which both Dean Swift and Tristram Shandy take as a most exact definition. The storms of night descended, the winds rolled along the clouds with all their ghosts, around the rock the dark waves burst and showed theii' flaming bosoms, loud rushed the blast through the leafless oaks, and the voice of the Spirit of the Mountains was heard in our halls ; it was Saturday, when lo ! at once the postman came ; mighty was his striding in the kitchen, and strong was his voice for ale ! In short, I have as yet received no letter from you, and great is my won- der and astonishment ; even Donaldson has not sent me my ' Critical Review ;' would to God he had one rap from Fingal's sword of Luno ! I feel myself at this present moment capable of writing a letter which would delight you, but I am determined not to do it, and this is the severe punish- ment of your neglect : I withhold the treasures of my wit and humour from you, — a perfect Golconda mine of diamonds. BOSWELL AND EKSKINE. 387 I have been enjoying, since you left me, the most exquisite entertainment, in the perusal of the noble works of Ossian, the greatest poet, in my opinion, that ever composed, and who exceeds Homer, Virgil, and Milton. He transports us by the grandeur of his sub- lime, or by some sudden start of tenderness he melts us into distress. Who can read without the warmest emotions the pathetic complaints of the venerable old Bard, when he laments his blindness and the death of his friends ? But how are we animated when the memory of former years comes rushing on his mind, and the light of the song rises in his soul ! It is quite impossible to express my admiration of his poems : at particular passages I felt my whole frame trembling with ecstasy ; but if I was to describe all my thoughts you would think me absolutely mad. The beautiful wilduess of his fancy is inexpressibly agreeable to the imagination : for instance, the mournful sound from the untouched harp when a hero is going to fall, or the awful appearances of his ghosts and spirits. Notwithstanding all these beauties, we shall still continue pedants, and Homer and Virgil will be read and quoted when Ossian shall be totally forgotten ; this, without the gift of prophecy, I can foresee. Much could I enlarge upon this subject, but this must not be a long letter. Believe me. Yours sincerely, Andrew Erskine. 2 c 2 388 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Edinburgh, January 11, 1762. Dear Erskine, Instead of endeavouring to excuse myself for neg- lecting so long to write, I shall present you with some original conjectures of my own, upon the way and manner in which you have been affected on this pre- sent occasion. And here I must premise that, in so doing, I shall not follow the formal and orderly me- thod of Bishop Latimer, in his sermons before King Edward VI., but, on the contrary, shall adopt the easy desultory style of one whom at present I shall not venture to name, but leave that to some future inge- nious commentator on the epistolary correspondence of the Hon. Andrew Erskine and James Bosvvell, Esq. Either you have been sunk into a frigid state of listless indifference, and gone whistling up and down the room upon a fife, and murmuring at intervals while you took breath, " Let him do as he likes; let him please himself; yes, yes, let him soap his own beard !" Or you have felt the most delicate pangs of afflicted sensibility, and uttered tender tales of woe in softly- plaintive numbers. "The savage bard returns no humorous line; No tragic ode now soothes my soul to rest ; In vain I fly to Lady B 's wine, Nor can a hearty supper make me blest." Or you have bm-ned, raged, and fried, Uke the thrice amorous swain in the renowned English translation of ' Voi Amanti ;' and perhaps thundered forth all the BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 389 anathemas which Tristram Shandy has borrowed from the Church of Rome, and transferred to poor Obadiah. By this time the storm is blown over. This merry letter has made yon grin and show every expression of laughter : you are now in very good humour, and are in all human probability saying to yourself, " My good friend Boswell is a most excellent correspondent. It is true he is indolent and dissipated, — as the cele- brated Parson Brown of Carlisle says, — and he fre- quently is a little negligent ; but when he does write, ye gods, how he does write ! In short, to sing him his own inimitable song, 'There is no better fellow alive.' " I remain, yours sincerely, James Boswell. New Tarbat, June 20, 1762. Dear Boswell, It a kind of maxim, or rule in life, never to begin a thing without having an eye towards the conclusion. Certainly this rule was never better observed than in your last letter, in which indeed I am apt to think you kept the conclusion rather too much in view ; or perhaps you forgot the beginning altogether, which is not unfrequcntly the case with you ; but you do those things with so little compunction, that I shall very soon cease to forgive you, and answer you in the same manner. It is to be feared that the dissolution of our correspondence will immediately follow, or dwindle 390 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. into half a page of your text-hand, which I always looked upon as a detestable invention. If all this that I dread happens, we shall then cease to be reckoned men of letters. I find it recorded in the history of the Eastern Roman Empire, that it was the custom, whenever the inhabitants of Constantinople mutinied for want of bread, to whip all the bakers through the city, which always appeased the populace. In like manner, Bos- well, I, having dreamt a few nights ago that I had whipt you severely, find my wrath and resentment very much mollified \ not so much indeed, I confess, as if I had really had the pleasure of correcting you; but however I am pretty w^ell satisfied. You was quite mistaken as to the manner I bore your silence ; I only thought it was a little droll. Donaldson tells me that he wants thirty or forty pages to complete his volume. Pray don't let him insert any nonsense to fill it up ; but try John Home and John R , who, I hear, is a very good poet. You may also hint the thing to Mr. N , and to my brother Lord K , who has some excellent poems by him. Since I saw you, I received a letter from Mr. D :* it is filled with encomiums upon you. He says there is a great deal of humility in your vanity, a great deal of tallness in your shortness, and a great deal of whiteness in your black complexion. He says, there is a great deal of poetry in your prose, and a * Probably Mr. Dempster. BOS WELL AND ERSKINE. 891 great deal of prose in yoiu' poetry. He says, that as to yoiir late publication, there is a great deal of Ode in your Dedication, and a great deal of Dedication in your Ode ; it would amaze you to see how D keeps up this see-saw, which, you'll remark, has pro- digious wit in it. He says, there is a great deal of coat in your waistcoat, and a great deal of waistcoat in your coat ; that there is a great deal of liveliness in your stupidity, and a great deal of stupidity in your liveliness. But to write you all he says would require rather more fire in my grate than there is at present ; and my fingers would undoubtedly be numbed, for there is a great deal of snow in this frost, and a great deal of frost in this snow. In short, upon this occa- sion he writes like a Christian and a poet, and a phy- sician and an orator, and a Jew. Pray, Bos well, tell me particularly in your first letter, how 'Fingal' has been received; that book will serve me as a criterion to discover the taste of the present age. Bos well, imitate me in your writing ; observe how closely the lines are joined, how near the words are written to one another, and how small the letters are formed. I am praiseworthy in this particular. Adieu ! Yours sincerely, Andrew Erskine. Edinburgh, January 22, 1762. Dear Erskine, I would not, for all the books in Donaldson's shop, that our correspondence should cease. Rather, nuich 392 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. rather, would I trot a horse in the hottest day in summer between Fort George and Aberdeen ; rather, much rather, would I hold the office of him who every returning noon plays upon the music-bells of the good town of Edinburgh ; and rather, much rather, would I be condemned to pass the next seven years of my life as a spiritless student at the College of Glasgow. Let our wit, my friend, continue to shine in a suc- cession of brilliant sparkles. Let there be no more distance between each flash of vivacity, but what is necessary for giving tune to observe its splendid radi- ance, I hope I shall never again approach so near the clod of clay -. I hope the fire of my genius shall never again be so long in kindling, or so much covered up with the dross of stupidity, I have desired Donaldson to cause his correspondent at London to send a copy of the first volume of his collection to each of the Reviews ; that is to say, to Hamilton and Griffiths, with whose names the slate- blue covers of these awful oracles of criticism are in- scribed. Donaldson has yet about thirty-six pages of the second volume to print. I have given him two hun- dred lines more. He is a loadstone of prodigious power, and attracts all my poetic needles. The vo- lume will be out next week : the different pieces of which it is composed are, to be sure, not all of equal merit; but is not that the case in every miscella- neous collection, even in that excellent one published by Mr. Dodsley? The truth is, that a volume printed BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 393 in a small type exhausts an infinite quantity of coptj (to talk technically), so that we nuist not be over- nice in our choice, nor think every man in our ranks below size who does not come up to the elevated standard of Captain Andrew. D 's encomiums have rendered my humility still prouder ; they are indeed suj)erb, and worthy of an opposer of the German War. I suppose they have not lost a bit of beef by their long journey ; and I should imagine that the Highland air has agreed well with them, and that they have agreed well with the Highland air. They occasioned much laughter in my heart, and much heart in my laughter. They have at last given over marrying me ; so that I am going about like a horse wanting a halter, ready to be bridled and saddled by the first person who is so very fortunate as to lay hold of me, — a simile not to be found in any author ancient or modern. We had a splendid ball at the Abbey of Holyrood House on the Queen's birthday, given by Colonel Graeme. I exhibited my existence in a minuet, and, as I was dressed in a full chocolate suit and wore my most solenm countenance, I looked, as you used to tell me, like the fifth act of a deep tragedy. Lord K danced with Miss C , by the fire of whose eyes his melodious Lordship's heart is at present in a state of combustion. Such is the declaration which he makes in loud whispers many a time and oft. Our friend H S is in town this winter -. he is a most surprising old fellow. I am told he is 394 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. some years past sixty; and yet he has all the vivacity, and frolic, and whim of the sprightliest youth. He continues to rank all mankind under the general de- nomination of Gilbert. He patrols the streets at mid- night as much as ever, and beats with as much vigour the town-guard drum ; nor is his affection for the company of blind fiddlers in the least abated. 'Fingal' has been very warmly received at London : a second edition of it has just now come out. The public taste, you will allow, is good at present : long may it last ! Long may the voice of the venerable Bard be heard with unaffected pleasure ! I see your regiment is ordered for England. I hope you will be allowed to recruit, or have leave of absence, as it would be very severe upon you to be moved from your present situation. If you will immber the lines in our pages, you will find I have twenty-three, whereas you have only eighteen. I enclose you the sorrowful lamentation of a stabler, called Hutchison, who, on Wednesday last, was whipped through this town, for forcing away a young man as a recruit, and beating him unmercifidly. The said Lamentation, you will find, is in verse, and, although sold for a single penny, is a work of remarkable merit. The exordium is a passionate address to Captains all, amongst whom, w^ho can more properly be reckoned than Captain Andrew ? I remain, yom' sincere friend, James Boswell. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 395 New Tarbat, May 1, 1762. Well then, my friend, you leave the Bar, llesolved on drums, on dress, and war, While Fancy paints in liveliest hues Swords, sashes, shoulder-knots, reviews ; You quit the study of the laws. And show a blade in Britain's cause. Of length to throw into a trance The frighten'd Kings of Spain and France ! A hat of fiercest cock is sought, And your cockade's already bought. While on your coat there beams a lace That might a captain-general grace ! For me, who never show admired. Or very long ago was tired, I can with face unmoved behold A scarlet suit with glittering gold ; And, though a son of war and strife. Detest the listless, languid life ; Then coolly, Sir, I say, repent, And in derision hold a tent ; Leave not the sweet poetic band. To scold recruits, and pore on Bland ; Our military books won't charm ye, Nor even th' enchanting list o' th' army. Trust me, 'twill be a foolish sight. To see you facing to the right, And then, of all your sense bereft. Returning back unto the left ; Alas ! what transport can you feel, In turning round on either heel ? Much sooner would I choose, indeed. To see you standing on your head ; Or, with your breeches off, to rub Foul clothes, and dance within a tub. Like Scottish lasses on the gTeen, When every naked limb is seen, And all without a bhisli revcal'd, Jiy modest maids with care conceal'd. 396 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. Besides, my dear Boswell, we find in all history, ancient and modern, lawyers are very apt to run away. Demosthenes the Greek, Writer to the Signet, who managed the great suit against Philip of Mace- don, fairly scoured off, I think, at the battle of Che- ronea ; and Cicero, the Roman advocate, is universally accused of cowardice. I am not indeed ignorant that some of your ancestors behaved well at Flodden ; but as they lost the day, I think the omen but bad ; and as they were killed, I think that makes the omen still worse ; however perhaps you don't think so, and I allow that argument to be very convincing, and rather more conclusive than if you had said, " I don't know that." You complain much of the country, and you assign various reasons for disliking it ; among others, you imagine the atmosphere too moist and heavy. I agree with you in that opinion : all the black clouds in the sky are continually pressing upon you ; for, as the pro- verb says, " Like draws to like." Believe me, I have sometimes taken you at a distance for the pillar of smoke which used to accompany the Israelites out of Egypt ; it would be impossible to tell how many things I have taken you for at diflPerent times : some- times I have taken you for the witches' cauldron in 'Macbeth,' — this resemblance was in some degree war- ranted by your figure and shape ; sometimes for an enormous ink-bottle, sometimes for a funeral proces- sion, now and then for a chimney-sweeper, and not unfrequently for a black-pudding. For my part, BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 397 Boswell, I must confess I am fond of the country to a degree ; things there are not so artificially disguised as in towns ; real sentiments are discovered, and the passions play naturally and without restraint. As, for example, it was only in the country I could have found out Lady J 's peculiar attachment to the tune of 'Apple MacNab;' in the town, no doubt, she would have pretended a great liking for ' Voi Amanti :' in the town, I never would have seen Lady B go out armed for fear of the turkey-cock, which is her daily practice here, and leaves room for numberless reflec- tions. She cannot eat turkeys, when roasted or boiled ; and she dreads them, when alive, so much, that she displays every forenoon a cudgel to them, fitted by its size to strike terror into a bull or a butting cow. What can her keeping of turkeys be owing to ? As- suredly to vanity, which is of such an insinuating nature, that we are apt very often to meet it where we least expect it. I have seen it in an old shoe, in a dirty shirt, in a long nose, a crooked leg, a red face ; and you will scarcely credit me when I tell you, that I once met with it in a chamber-pot made of the coarsest delf. So much it seemed good for me to say upon the subject of vanity, supporting by the most irrefragable arguments the doctrine of Solomon. We had a visit from Mr. C of S here this morning ; he came in a chaise drawn by four bay horses. I am certain of the number. You may draw what inference you please from this intelligence ; I give you only a simple narration of the fact. I am 398 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. surprised you say nothing of my proposal of your coming here, and still more that you say nothing of your cub. Why don't you send me a copy ? We were all so much entertained with your letter to Lady B , that I was really seized with a qualm of envy. We regard it as one of those efforts of genius which are only produced by a fine flow of spirits, a beautiful day, and a good pen. I pray you, Boswell, note well this sheet of paper ; its size is magnificent. If Lady B was possessed of such an extent of plain ground, she would undoubt- edly throw it into a lawn, and plant it with clumps of trees ; she would vary it with fishponds, and render it rm-al with flocks. Here, where I am writing, might a cow feed ; here might be an arbom' ; here, perhaps, might you recline at full length ; by the edge of the stream might the Captain walk ; and in this corner might Lady B give orders to her shepherds. I am drawn, in the most irresistible manner, to conclude, by the external impulse of the cloth's being laid, and the internal impulse of being hungry. Beheve me, Boswell, to be in the most unconscionable manner, Your affectionate friend, Andrew Erskine. P.S. — I send you franks, which return filled with the utmost wit and humour. BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 399 My fondness for the Guards must appear very strange to you, who have a rooted antipathy at the glare of scarlet. But I must inform you that there is a city called London, for which I have as violent an affection as the most romantic lover ever had for his mistress. There a man may indeed soap his own beard, and enjoy whatever is to be had in this transi- tory state of things. Every agreeable whim may be freely indulged without censure. I hope however you vnll not impute my living in England to the same cause for which Hamlet was advised to go there, — be- cause the people were all as mad as himself.* I long much for another of our long conversations on a fine forenoon after breakfast, while the sun sheds light and gladness around us. Yours sincerely, James Boswell. New Tarhat, May 25, 1762. Dear Boswell, It has been said that few people succeed both in poetry and prose. Homer's prose essay on the Gun- powder Plot is reckoned by all critics inferior to the ' IHad,' and Warburton's rhyming satire on the Me- thodists is allowed by all to be superior to his pro- saical notes on Pope's Works. Let it be mine to unite the excellencies both of prose and verse in my inimitable epistles. From this day my prose shall * " The earth is as thirsty as Boswell, and cracked all over its sur- face, as certainly as lie is in one part." (Letter of John Wilkes.) — Ed. 400 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. have a smack of verse, and my verse shall have a smack of prose. I '11 give you a specmieii of both. My servant addresses me in these words very often : — " The roll is butter'd, and the kettle boil'd, Your Honour's newest coat with grease is soil'd ; In yoiu' best breeches glares a mighty hole, Yoiir wash-ball and pomatum, Sir, are stole. Your tailor. Sir, must payment have, that's plain ; He called today, and said he 'd call again." There 's prosaic poetry ; now for poetic prose. " Uni- versal genius is a wide and diffused stream that waters the country and makes it agreeable ; 'tis true it cannot receive ships of any burthen, therefore it is of no solid advantage, yet is it very amusing. Gondolas and painted barges float upon its surface ; the country- gentleman forms it into ponds, and it is spouted out of the mouths of various statues , it strays through the finest fields, and its banks nourish the most blooming flowers. Let me sport with this stream of science, wind along the vale and glide through the trees, foam down the mountain and sparkle in the sunny ray. But let me avoid the deep, nor lose myself in the vast pro- found ; and grant that I may never be pent in the bottom of a dreary cave, or be so unfortunate as to stagnate in some unwholesome marsh. Limited genius is a pump- well, very useful in all the common occur- rences of life ; the water drawn from it is of service to the maids in washing their aprons ; it boils beef, and it scours the stairs ; it is poured into the teakettles of the ladies, and into the punchbowls of the gentlemen." BOS WELL AND ERSKINE. 401 Having thus given you, in the most clear and distinct manner, my sentiments of genius, I proceed to give you my opinion of the ancient and modern writers, — a subject, you must confess, very aptly and natiu*ally introduced. I am going to be very serious. You will trace a resemblance between me and Sir William Temple, or perhaps David Hume, Esq. A modern writer must content himself with glean- ing a few thoughts here and there, and binding them together without order or regularity, that the variety may please. The ancients have reaped the full of the harvest, and killed the noblest of the game ; in vain do we beat about the once plenteous fields ; the dews are exhaled, no scent remains. How glorious was the fate of the early writers ! born in the infancy of letters, their task was to reject thoughts more than to seek after them, and to select out of a number the most shining, the most striking, and the most susceptible of ornament. The poet saw in his walks every pleas- ing object of nature undescribed; his heart danced with the gale, and his spirits shone with the invigorat- ing sun ; his works breathed nothing but rapture and enthusiasm. Love then spoke with its genuine voice, the breast was melted down with woe, the whole soul was dissolved into pity with its tender complaints, free from the conceits and quibbles which since that time have rendered the very name of it ridiculous : real passion heaved the sigh ; real passion uttered the most prevailing language. Music too reigned in its full force ; that soft deluding art, whose pathetic strains 2 D 402 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. SO gently steal into our veiy souls and involve us in the sweetest confusion, or whose animating strains fire us even to madness. How has the shore of Greece echoed with the wildest sounds ! the delicious war- blings of the lyre charmed and astonished every ear. The blaze of rhetoric then burst forth ; the ancients sought not by false thoughts and glittering diction to captivate the ear, but by manly and energetic modes of expression to rule the heart and sway the passions. There, Boswell, there are periods for you ! Did not you imagine that you was reading the ' Rambler ' of Mr. Samuel Johnson, or that Mr. Thomas Sheridan himself was resounding the praises of the ancients, and his own art ? I shall now finish this letter without the least blaze of rhetoric, and, with no very manly or energetic mode of expression, assure you that I am, yours sincerely, Andrew Erskine. Kelly, July 6, 1702. Dear Boswell, I imagined that, by ceasing to write to you for some time, I should be able to lay up a stock of materials unusual to astonish you, and that like a river dammed up, when let loose I should flow on with unusual rapidity ; or like a man who has not beat his wife for a fortnight, I should cudgel you with my wit for hours together ; but I find the contrary of all this is the case. I resemble a person long absent from his native BOSWELL AND ERSKINE. 403 country, of which he has formed a thousand endearing ideas, and to which he at last returns ; but, alas ! he beholds with sorrowful eyes everything changed for the worse : the town where he was born, which used to have two snows* and three sloops trading to all parts of the known world, is not now master of two fishing- boats : the steeple of the church, where he used to sleep m his youth, is rent with lightning ; and the girl on whom he had placed his early affections, has had three bastard children, and is just going to be delivered of a fourth. Or I resemble a man who has had a fine waistcoat lying long in the very bottom of a chest, which he is determined shall be put on at the hunter's ball j but woe's me, the lace is tarnished, and the moths have devoured it in a melancholy manner. These few similies may serve to show that this letter has little chance of being a good one, yet they don't make the affair certain. Prince Ferdinand beat the French at Minden ; Sheridan, in his Lectures, some- times spoke sense, and John Home wrote one good play. I have read Lord Kames's 'Elements,' and agree very heartily with the opinion of the Critical Reviewers; however, I could often have wished that his Lordship had been less obscure, or that I had had more pene- tration. He praises the ' Mourning Bride' excessively ; which nevertheless I can't help thinking a very indif- ferent play : the plot wild and improbable, and the language infinitely too high and swelling. It is curi- ous to see the opinions of the Reviewers concerning * A vessel with two masts. 404 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. you and nie. They take you for a poor distressed gentleman writing for bread, and me for a very im- pudent Irishman ; whereas you are heir to a thousand a-year, and I am one of the most bashful Scotsmen that ever appeared. I confess indeed my bashfulness does not appear in my Works, for them I print in the most impudent manner, being exceeded in that re- spect by nobody but James Boswell, Esq. Yours, etc., Andrew Erskine. The following letter to Mr. Dempster, hitherto un- published, has been communicated to the Editor by a friend. Mr. Dempster has been before referred to (pp. 20 and 32) as allied with Erskine and Boswell in concocting a pamphlet upon Mallet's ' Elvira,' and as having greatly displeased Dr. Johnson by his scep- tical arguments and opinions. Mr. Dempster repre- sented the Perth Burghs for many years, aud died in 1818, at the advanced age of eighty-six. He was a supporter of Lord Rockingham, and is referred to by Burns in his ' Earnest Cry and Prayer to the Scotch Representatives.' " Dempster, a true-blue Scot, I'se wan-au, Thee, aitli detesting, chaste Kilkcrrau, An that glib-gabbct HigUaud Barou, The Laird of o'Graham ; An one, a chap that's d — d auld-farran, Pundas his name." LETTER or BOSWELL TO DEMPSTER. 405 The poem alluded to by Boswell was possibly one upon the " Slave-trade," which it is believed he wrote, although very uncertain traces of it can be found at the present day. Indeed in this respect it only shares the fate of several other of Boswell's writings, the li- braries and catalogues not containing any notice what- ever of them.* London, April 19, 1791. My dear Dempster, We must not entirely lose sight of one another, or rather, we must not suffer out of sight out of mind to be applicable to two such old friends, who have always lived pleasantly together, though of principles directly opposite. I was happy that yoiu* accepting one of Mr. Pulteney's Seats proved a false rumour, for it would have been a sad degradation ; but though not in Parliament, you can be mischievous enough as a " lFhi(/ Dor/'' as Johnson would say, or rather, as some- thing even beyond that ; for you are for that most hor- rible anarchy the French Revolution. * The same remark applies to Mr. Temple's writings. Por in- stance, in one of the Letters (March, 1793) which he preserved along with Boswell's coiTespondence, reference is thus made to some un- known publication in which Temple, it appears, had criticized Dr. Johnson. "I am glad," says the writer of the letter in question, " the swollen and bloated reputation of Johnson owes to your pen a very fair and just pruning and reduction." In other letters from other correspondents it would seem that Mr. Ten)ple had amongst his friends those who (like himself) had no admiration for Dr. John- son, and (unlike himself) a great contempt for BoswcU. " Who," writes one, " woidd purchase fame as an author, or in any other way, ou such terms as this creature, Boswell?" — Ed. 406 ADDITIONAL LETTERS. I some time ago resigned my Recordership of Car- lisle. I perceived that no advantage would accrue from it ; I could satisfy you in conversation that I was right. The melancholy event of losing my valuable wife will, I fear, never allow me to have real comfort. You can- not imagine how it hangs upon my spirits ; yet I can talk and write, and in short force myself to a won- derful degree. I enclose you a Poem which I have published, upon a subject on which I never heard your sentiments, but I could lay my life you are one of the pretty theorists ; however you will have can- dour enough to allow that I have worked well. I have a good house in Great Portland Street. My two eldest daughters live with me ; my youngest is at a boarding-school at Chelsea ; my eldest son is at Eton, my second at Westminster. I am sadly straitened in my circumstances ; I can but exist, as to expense ; but they are so good to me here, that I have a fuU share of the metropolitan advantages. My magnum opus, the ' Life of Dr. Johnson,' in two volumes quarto, is to be published on Monday, 16th May. It is too great a book to be given in presents, as I gave my ' Tour,' so you must not expect one, though you yourself form a part of its multifarious contents. I really think it will be the most entertain- ing collection that has appeared in this age. When it is fairly launched I mean to stick close to West- nihister HaU, and it will be truly kind if you recom- mend me appeals, or causes of any sort. LETTEK OF BOSWELL TO DEMPSTER. 407 Pray, let me have a long account of you as a Bus- ficns. My compliments to Mrs. Dempster. Ever most truly yours, James Boswell. Such a request (it may be observed) as that made in the latter part of the above letter, to the effect that his friend should " recommend" business to Boswell, is understood to be strictly unprofessional at the Eng- lish Bar, wherever at least it becomes known. This breach of conventional etiquette was however more un- availing in Boswell's case than that of many others ; he had as little success at the Bar as in politics ; he obtained neither place, profit, nor reputation by either of these walks in life. His title to fame or the grati- tude of the world is based alone upon the successful prosecution of his literary pursuits. THE KNU. PniMliD BY john edwabd taylor, little queen street, Lincoln's ink fields. 12- THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. uc SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FAa^ A A 001 431 913 J_ 3 1205 03058 7! n9 : >:^E>si' J « #.**^'^ t \ \t