THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 LETTERS OF 
 
 JAMES BOSWELL 
 
 TO THE REV. W. J. TEMPLE
 
 .TAMES BOSWELL 
 
 Eiiiiriin-d by E. Fixuen,/)-*);;* u aketch bij 
 Gf.orc.e Lan'ctox
 
 LETTERS OF 
 
 JAMES BOSWELL 
 
 fti 
 
 TO THE REV. W. J. TEMPLE 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 THOMAS SECCOMBE 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD. 
 
 3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI, W.C. 
 1908
 
 All rights reserved
 
 HOC QUALECUMQUE 
 
 VIRO ERUDITISSIMO W. P. COURTNEY 
 
 PRO PARTE SUA 
 
 DEDICAT 
 
 EDITOR 
 
 T. S.
 
 INTjRODUCTION 
 
 These letters were written between 1758 and 1795 ^Y 
 James Boswell, the biographer of Johnson, to his 
 college friend, W. J. Temple, grandfather of the late 
 Archbishop Temple, then living in Devon. Lost to 
 sight for half a century the originals were brought 
 to light as the result of a somewhat remarkable con- 
 catenation of circumstances. In the autumn of 1850 
 an English gentleman, a certain Major Stone, of the 
 Hon. East India Company's service, was making 
 a purchase in a shop at Boulogne-sur-Mer when 
 he found that the wrapper in which his purchase was 
 enclosed was a fragment of an English letter bear- 
 ing the signature of James Boswell. The source of 
 supply was eagerly traced to an itinerant vendor ol 
 paper who visited Boulogne two or three times a 
 year. Among his stock the originals of the letters 
 were found almost complete bearing ancient post 
 marks in addition to the franks of a large number of 
 people well known in Boswell's day. External and 
 internal evidence have agreed too well for the slightest 
 doubt ever to be maintained as to the authenticity of 
 the letters. Aut Boswell, aut Diabolus 1 A reason- 
 able explanation has indeed been found as to the 
 whereabouts of the documents in the fact that Anne 
 Temple, the eldest daughter and amanuensis of Boswell's 
 
 vil
 
 viii INTRODUCTION 
 
 correspondent married in 1796 the Rev. Charles Powlett 
 (1765-1834) who migrated about 1825 to Outreau on 
 the Liane some three miles or so above Boulogne. 
 The obituary memoir on this versatile divine written 
 by an extremely candid friend who signs himself " A 
 Biographer " and inadvertently inserted in the column 
 especially devoted to deaths among the clergy some 
 three and a half years before the actual decease of its 
 subject, forms one of the gems of the Gentleman s 
 Magazine. With ample aid from corroborative cir- 
 cumstance of a more or less whimsical character, Mr. 
 Powlett is demonstrated to be a grandson of Polly 
 Peachum and the Duke of Bolton. He held for a time 
 the Bolton living in Cornwall, and it was there that he 
 formed an acquaintance with Miss Temple, " the 
 daughter of the learned rector of Gluvias, whose cha- 
 racter of Gray the poet is inserted in Mason's life of 
 that illustrious genius." Miss Temple is said, upon 
 her father's death in 1796, to have brought her husband 
 a nice sum of money which twenty years later, with the 
 help of some accumulations, may have amounted to ^400 
 a year, and it was on this annuity that Powlett subsisted 
 during the ten years of his exile. He died at Brussels 
 in 1834.* 
 
 Happily resuscitated as a result of the accident related 
 above, the letters were given to the world under the 
 date of 1 857,1 bearing the following title : " Letters of 
 James Boswell. Addressed to the Rev. W. J. Temple. 
 
 * For details of the engagement to Miss Temple see pp. 275, 276, 
 284, 286, 
 
 t For further details as to the vicissitudes of the " Letters " see 
 Edinburgh Review, April 1857; ^otes and Queries, second series, iii. 
 381—2; and Times, 6 January, 1857. The Times devoted six entire 
 columns to a review^ of the book, commenced on January 3 and 
 completed on January 8 ! Lucky authors, publishers (and reviewers) 
 of 1857!
 
 INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 Now first published from the Orighial MSS. With an 
 Introduction and Notes. London, Richard Bentley, 
 New Burlington Street, Publisher in Ordinary to Her 
 Majesty." 1857. Printed by John Edward Taylor, 
 Little Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields." [pp. xlviii. 
 + 407]. The preface is dated 15 November, 1856, 
 and the work was in fact issued just before Christmas 
 1856. The December journals contained long and 
 deservedly favourable notices, and the edition was sold 
 out in under two years. Hitherto, for some reason or 
 other, it has not been reprinted and the editio princeps 
 has become scarce. The editing was admirably done, 
 and why the anonymity of the editor should have been 
 so strictly observed it would be difficult to say. 
 
 The letters were originally brought under the notice 
 of the publisher by Mr. Edmund Hornby, of 6 Fig- 
 Tree Court, Temple, and Weybridge, to whom they 
 had been entrusted by Augustus Boyse, of the Inner 
 Temple, the nephew and heir of the original discoverer, 
 Major Stone. Mr. Hornby had the intention of edit- 
 ing the documents himself. He was summoned abroad 
 on official duty at the critical moment, and left the task 
 to a young friend, Mr. Philip Francis, of the Temple. 
 
 The very name of Francis is a terror to the literary 
 historian, and is, generally speaking, so awe-inspiring 
 to the reader when he meets it that he incontinently 
 turns over three pages and begins again. The author- 
 ship of " Ossian," " The Whole Duty of Man," the 
 " EtKwi^ /3acrfXtic?7," or the " Marprelate Tracts," has 
 puzzled the experts for many generations ; but no 
 secret of authorship has devastated such vast fields 
 of print as the mystery of Junius. The conjuncture of 
 Philip and Francis in one name, in fact, is so ominous 
 that to offer a complete solution of the identity of any 
 such person would be the height of presumption. I
 
 X INTRODUCTION 
 
 shall attempt no more, therefore, than to depone that 
 after a great drawing of blank coverts my final con- 
 jecture is that the original editor of 1856 can be no 
 other than Sir Philip Francis, of the Supreme Consular 
 Court of the Levant, who died on board H.M.S. 
 Antelope on 9 August, 1876. He would thus be a 
 younger brother of Henry Ralph Francis (1811-1900), 
 the "last surviving grandson of Junius," who was, like 
 himself, a colonial judge, and, like himself, was in 
 1856 a briefless barrister about London en disponibilite 
 universelle. 
 
 This H. R. Francis was well known to the club- 
 world of the eighties as a whist-player, raconteur, and 
 agreeable writer, mainly on angling, though he must 
 not be confused with that better-known authority on 
 matters piscatorial, Mr. Francis Francis (whose name is 
 surely a double bulwark of defence against the intrusions 
 of irresponsible biographers) ; and for a time I was led 
 by many circumstances to think that this H. R. F. 
 might have had a large share in this compilation, though 
 I am now persuaded that such a conjecture would be 
 unwarrantable. 
 
 Reverting then to Philip Francis of the Middle 
 Temple — and it is fairly plain that the author of this 
 intercalary matter and commentary, whatever else he 
 may have been, must have been a lawyer — it appears 
 that he was the youngest son of Philip Francis and 
 grandson of the egregious man of Letters ; that he was 
 born in 1822, and called to the Bar from the Middle 
 Temple in the Michaelmas Term of 1 845. He would at 
 the time of this compilation have been a lightly-encum- 
 bered barrister on the Home Circuit at the wholly likely 
 age of thirty-four, and he appears to have been a friend 
 of Edmund Hornby, whose influence procured him an 
 appointment in 1 861 at Constantinople. There he soon
 
 INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 became assistant judge and registrar of the Supreme 
 Consular Court of the Levant, and then, after some 
 service in Egypt, he became a full judge of the Supreme 
 Court at Constantinople in 1867. Subsequently he was 
 summoned to Cairo by Nubar Pasha as British Com- 
 missioner to represent his country during the inter- 
 national conference on Judicial Reform in Egypt. His 
 ability and the ascendency which he obtained during 
 these deliberations was marked, and he was knighted in 
 1868. He held a prominent and very popular position 
 among the European colony at Pera, and his funeral 
 ceremony at Scutari, after his sudden death on board a 
 British cruiser in the Mediterranean, was made the 
 occasion of a great demonstration of regard. The 
 delicate sense of ironic humour, occasionally rather 
 sardonic in its tone, with which he was credited by his 
 friends may certainly be detected in the notes to this 
 edition of the Boswell correspondence. 
 
 As one example among many let me cite the quiet 
 comment upon Boswell's characteristic prayer:* "What 
 a strange, complicated scene is this life. It always 
 strikes me that we cannot 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, and a blaze hereafter." To 
 which the editor appends just this note: " A somewhat 
 ambiguous prayer, but doubtless it is to a blaze o^ joy 
 the writer was aspiring." A richer revelation of uncon- 
 scious humour was hardly ever put before the reader 
 than that contained in this correspondence, and both 
 editor and publisher (especially after the elaborate re- 
 views and the proofs which these elicited as to the 
 authenticity of the provenance claimed for the MSS.) 
 
 * See page 193.
 
 xli INTRODUCTION 
 
 might have well expected a far heartier reception 
 than the volume actually received. As a contribu- 
 tion to the perennial gaiety of nations its merits can- 
 not be indefinitely eclipsed ; and, when it does come 
 to its own, its original editor will certainly gain much 
 credit for his wide knowledge and excellent manage- 
 ment of the documents at his disposal.* 
 
 The turn has come now of the " second lead " and 
 faithful correspondent of our hero, Parson W. J. 
 Temple.t Like his grandfather George, and his father 
 William, of Allerdean, William Johnston Temple, the 
 descendant of a Border family of the Presbyterian faith 
 and old standing in the locality, was born at Berwick- 
 on-Tweed, on 6 December, 1739. It was as we know 
 in the Greek class at Edinburgh that he made the inti- 
 mate acquaintance of Boswell whose Atticus he became 
 from 1758 onwards. On leaving Edinburgh he took 
 rooms in Farrar's Buildings, at the bottom of Inner 
 Temple Lane, and reluctantly left those elegant apart- 
 
 * After due deliberation it was thought undesirable to reproduce 
 the original Introduction of 1856, as it would have involved much 
 tedious repetition. The facts there given need supplementing at almost 
 every point. The opinions are dominated to an extent which would 
 not be appreciated by readers of to-day by Carlyle's then recently 
 published Essay on Boswell's Johnson. The editor's work is seen at 
 its best in the explanatory connections which are here preserved 
 intact. Although the Letters of 1857 have not been reprinted, many 
 books have drawn upon them largely and most legitimately for 
 materials, among them, not of course the " Boswclliana " of 1856, 
 but the two later and most amusing volumes that go by that name, 
 and also the two agreeable " Lives of Boswell " by Mr. Fitzgerald 
 and by Mr. Leask. I believe I have heard that many volumes of the 
 original edition were destroyed in a fire. Their number is far too 
 few at the present day for the " lues Boswelliana " to be dissemi- 
 nated as it deserves. 
 
 t Our knowledge of the Temple family has increased vastly since 
 1857 owing to the success of the lineage in the person and career of 
 the late Archbishop of Canterbury.
 
 INTRODUCTION xiu 
 
 ments in 1763 to take up his residence at Trinity Hall, 
 Cambridge, when he lent his London chambers to his 
 generous young friend from Auchinleck. After July 
 in this year Boswell found them very handy owing to 
 their proximity to those of his eminent friend "Dic- 
 tionary Johnson." In 1766 Temple was ordained deacon 
 and priest and was presented by his first cousin once 
 removed, the fourth Viscount Lisburne, to the modest 
 but agreeable living of Mamhead, near Exeter. " My 
 friend," wrote Boswell to him with befitting solemnity, 
 " it is your ofiice to labour cheerfully in the vineyard, 
 and if possible to leave not a tare in Mamhead ; " and 
 when he got weary of the charms of his perpetual 
 curacy Boswell counselled him to seek the comforts of 
 a house and the kind endearments of an amiable woman. 
 In the same letter he enlarges upon his own liaison with 
 a " dear infidel " whose generosity is described with an 
 incomparable naivete. Next year on August 6, after 
 some passing attraction at Mamhead, Temple took his 
 friend's advice, married Ann Stow, daughter of William 
 Stow, of Berwick, and with her inherited some property 
 at Allerdean in Durham. The marriage, though pro- 
 lific, does not seem to have been uniformly happy. 
 Temple in 17 70 had an idea of securing a colonial 
 chaplaincy with a view of thus effecting a virtual 
 separation. Boswell at this conjuncture, sanguine as 
 ever, wrote to Mrs. Temple urging submission and 
 elevating the ideal of wifely duty. In 1774 Temple 
 published through Edward and Charles Dilly a dull 
 book of one hundred pages small quarto, entitled 
 " An Essay on the Clergy, their Studies, Recreations, 
 Decline of Influence, &c. &c." He seems in the 
 meantime, to have been in very low water financially, 
 and sounded his plaintive bleat of discontent with a 
 persistency which reverberates through much published
 
 xlv INTRODUCTION 
 
 correspondence during this period. The dull book, 
 however, by some divine mischance, seems to have 
 materially aided his prospects, and, in 1776, partly, no 
 doubt, owing to the renewed influence of Lord 
 Lisburne, he obtained what was described as the best 
 living in the diocese of Exeter, that of St. Gluvias, in 
 Cornwall, with a total revenue, we gather, of well over 
 ;;^500 a year. Before this date, as we learn in part 
 from these letters, he had been persistently in trouble. 
 His wife, like Dogberry, had had disappointments, 
 chiefly owing to the bankruptcy of the head of her 
 family, Fenwick Stow ; while Temple's father, who had 
 abandoned a small post in the Customs, was wholly 
 unprovided for. Boswell's unabated exuberance of 
 anticipation may have been in part responsible for the 
 uninterrupted whining of Temple's laments. He seems, 
 however, to have been a dissatisfied, atrabilious man, 
 restless, excitable, and always craving for more experi- 
 ence and better company than Bolerium could affbrd. 
 
 In a MS. diary, under date, 25 May, 1782, our 
 Atticus complains rather acidly of his Cicero, as "irre- 
 gular in conduct and manners, selfish, indelicate, no 
 sensibility or feeling for others." Mrs. Temple, too, 
 it appears, disliked Boswell, rather intensely. Yet it 
 must be said that, if occasionally trying to the temper, 
 Boswell nevertheless always played a very friendly part 
 towards the "monitor" and his wife. He made Johnson 
 known to them for instance; he took Paoli down to 
 Mamhead, he had Temple up to town and took him 
 and his daughter to Westminster Hall to see the trial 
 of Warren Hastings. He took them more than once 
 to Sir Joshua's studio in Leicester Square ; he acted 
 as godfather to one of the sons, and tipped another who 
 was at Eton. As young men they had mingled tears of 
 enthusiasm over Mason and Gray, and when the latter died,
 
 INTRODUCTION xv 
 
 Boswell caused to be published in the London Magazine 
 for March 1772 a succinct appreciation of Gray by 
 Temple which Mason himself used, and which Johnson 
 adapted.* This and his revision of Boswell's "Tour in 
 Corsica " will do more to preserve Temple's name from 
 oblivion than any of the writings under his own name.f 
 His letters to Boswell (which may possibly at some future 
 date be rescued) should prove interesting. They must 
 have had a decided knack of eliciting confidences. We 
 may owe a good deal to the man to whom Bozzy con- 
 fided his deliberate judgment of Gibbon as " an ugly, 
 affected, disgusting fellow who poisons our literary 
 club to me," his conviction of Hawkins's malevolence 
 (" Obs:rv£ how he talks of me as quite unknown") and 
 his explanation of how in order to live down to his 
 father's ideal of companionship he had to dull his facul- 
 ties with small beer. As it is. Temple's contemplated 
 defence of his friend against the aspersion of melancholy 
 in the Gentleman s Magazine touches us more nearly 
 than his intended magnum opus on " Modern Rome." 
 He outlived his " untoward " wife by rather over three 
 years and died at Gluvias (where there is an unveracious 
 epitaph) on 13 August, 1796. 
 
 II 
 
 It was at the age of sixteen or seventeen, that is 
 to say, in 1756 or 1757, when they were students 
 together in Hunter's Greek class at Edinburgh Univer- 
 sity, that Boswell first allied himself with Temple. 
 He went on to Glasgow in 1757 ^° ^^^ under Adam 
 Smith, while Temple went up to Cambridge. A year 
 
 * " Thou characteriser of Gray," Boswell calls him. See pages 
 177, 266. 
 
 t For a list of these see " Diet. Nat. Biog." and Cambridge 
 University Library Catalogue.
 
 xvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 later the long correspondence begins. Boswell found 
 in Temple what he afterwards found in his books, 
 a means of unburdening himself lavishly of his noble 
 ambitions and his ignoble acts. In these letters he first 
 mounts the hobby of his own temperament which was 
 to remain his master-passion through life ; and the 
 opportunities that he misses of self-portraiture are few. 
 He is a man of ancient blood and pride, grave and 
 reserved, with a Spanish stateliness of manner. A 
 man of whom any father would be proud. His parts 
 are bright, and his education good. He is fond of 
 seeing the world. He eats of every good dish, especially 
 apple-pie. He drinks old hock. He has a very fine 
 temper. He is of a good manly countenance, as attrac- 
 tive as it is amorous. He has infinite vivacity, yet is 
 observed at times to have a melancholy cast. " My life 
 is one of the most romantic . . . and yet I am a very 
 sensible, good sort of man." He is youthful, warm 
 and natural, in charming health and spirits. What a for- 
 tunate fellow too with the ladies, what a variety of adven- 
 tures in all countries. " Upon my soul a fine woman." 
 Nothing can check the irresistible flow of his confi- 
 dences.* The letters are teeming with absurdity, anti- 
 climax and the humiHating enumeration of the quaintest 
 foibles. Yet to how many, if we could only speak 
 frankly, are they not also a looking-glass and confessional 
 of the crude ambitions, enthusiasms, vanities, and aber- 
 rations of our youth ? Books read in college-rooms with 
 noble fervour, lamps burning all the night, reputations 
 
 * Touching his conscious habit of babbling at random and his 
 aspiration to become grave and reserved, see the letter in Malvolio's 
 vein on page 98. " I wish to be at last an uniform, pretty man." 
 Wax to the impression of the great doctor, and simultaneously that 
 vainest of God's creatures, a Scotch peacock playing at Narcissus to 
 his own image ! One must read Montaigne on Vanity to begin to 
 understand the plump, " stately," smile-provoking James Boswell.
 
 INTRODUCTION xvll 
 
 made and unmade, resolutions fixed to stand by our 
 country and reform it in ways which our fathers for all 
 their solidity have unaccountably missed, the conviction 
 that the world is steadily improving and that|we, young 
 immortals, are going to advance matters sensibly to- 
 wards the not remote millennium — with such infirmities, 
 long buried by us in uninstructive oblivion, are the 
 opening pages of Boswell's letters deeply concerned, 
 and his closing pages too for that matter. For indeed 
 Boswell never grew old. He retained to the end that 
 delightful optimism of the schoolboy out of harness 
 that one day he was certain to shine, to be the great 
 man, whether in dissipation, elegance, learning, athletics, 
 oratory, music, strategy, or buffoonery, it did not so much 
 matter so long as he were first, raised up on other men's 
 shoulders, applauded and worshipped. The obsession 
 of Bozzy by this idea and the outspoken expression of 
 it in the successive phases of life makes of these letters, 
 which are the ante-chamber to his famous " Life of 
 Johnson," the unique documents that they are. In them 
 too the story of his life may most clearly be traced for 
 upwards of thirty years. It was in 1760, at the age of 
 twenty, that this ebullient son of a sedate old Scots 
 judge was first brought into contact with the elegance, 
 the refinement, and the liberality of London society 
 for which he had sighed so long and the thirst for which 
 was to torment him almost to the last. The young 
 Earl of Eglintoun it was who first took him to New- 
 market and introduced him into the society of the 
 great, the gay, and the ingenious. Reclaimed with 
 some difficulty by the Laird of Auchinleck from his 
 rakish companions and wild scheme for entering the 
 Guards, the youthful James contrived to alleviate the 
 irksomeness of law study in Edinburgh by forcing his 
 acquaintance upon the celebrities then assembled in
 
 xviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 the northern capital, among them Karnes, Blair, Robert- 
 son, Hume and Sir David Dalrymple (Lord Hailes) of 
 whose sayings on the Northern Circuit he kept a brief 
 journal. Boswell had already realised his vocation, the 
 exercise of w^hich was to give a new word to the lan- 
 guage. He had begun to BoswelHse. He was already 
 on the track of bigger game — the biggest available in 
 the Britain of that day. 
 
 In the spring of 1763 Boswell came to a composition 
 with his father. He consented to give up his pursuit 
 of a guidon in the Guards and three and sixpence a 
 day on condition that his father would allow him to 
 study civil law on the Continent. He set out in 
 April 1763 by "the best road in Scotland" with a 
 servant, on horseback like himself, in a " cocked hat, 
 a brown wig, brown coat made in the court fashion, 
 red vest, corduroy small clothes, and long, mihtary 
 boots." 
 
 On Monday, 16 May, 1763, in the backshop of 
 Tom Davies, the bookseller with the pretty wife. No. 8, 
 Russell Street, Covent Garden, James Boswell first met 
 " Dictionary Johnson," the great man of his dreams, 
 and was severely buffeted by him. Eight days later, 
 on Tuesday, May 24, Boswell boldly called on Mr. 
 Johnson at his chambers on the first floor of No. i 
 Inner Temple Lane. On this occasion Johnson pressed 
 him to stay; on June 13 he said, "Come to me as 
 often as you can " ; on June 25 Boswell gave the great 
 man a little sketch of his own life, and Johnson ex- 
 claimed with warmth, " Give me your hand ; I have 
 taken a liking to you." Boswell experienced a variety 
 of sensations, among which exultation was predominant. 
 Some one asked, " Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson's 
 heels .?" " He is not a cur," replied Goldsmith, "he 
 is only a bur. Tom Davies flung him at Johnson in
 
 INTRODUCTION xix 
 
 sport and he has the faculty of sticking." Johnson was 
 fifty-four at this time and Boswell twenty-three. After 
 June 1763 they met on something like two hun- 
 dred and seventy subsequent days. These meet- 
 ings formed the memorable part of Boswell's life, and 
 they are told inimitably in his famous biography of 
 his friend. The friendship consecrated by the most 
 delightful of biographies, and one of the most gorgeous 
 feasts in the whole banquet of letters, was not so ill- 
 assorted as has been maintained. Boswell's fresh- 
 ness at the table of conversation gave a new zest to 
 every maxim that Johnson enunciated, while Boswell 
 developed a perfect genius for interpreting the kind of 
 worldly philosophy at which Johnson was so unap- 
 proachable. Both men welcomed an excuse for avoiding 
 the taskwork of life. Johnson's favourite indulgence 
 was to talk ; Boswell's great idea of success to elicit 
 memorable conversation. Boswell is almost equally 
 admirable as a reporter and as an interviewer, as a 
 collector and as a researcher. He prepared meetings 
 for Johnson, he prepared topics for him, he drew him 
 out on questions of the day, he secured a copy of his 
 famous letter to Lord Chesterfield, he obtained an almost 
 verbatim report of Johnson's interview with the King, 
 he frequented the tea-table of Miss Williams, he 
 attended the testy old scholar on lengthy peregrinations 
 in the Highlands and in the Midlands. " Sir," said 
 Johnson to his follower, " you appear to have only 
 two subjects — yourself and me — and I'm sick of 
 both." 
 
 Yet thorough as the scheme was from the outset, and 
 admirable as was the devotedness of the biographer, 
 Boswell was far too volatile a man to confine himself to 
 any one ambition in life that was not consistent with 
 a large amount of present fame, or, to use his own word,
 
 XX INTRODUCTION 
 
 " consplcuousness." He would have liked to Boswellise 
 the popular idol, Wilkes, or Chatham, or Voltaire, or 
 even the great Frederick himself. As it was, during 
 his Continental tour, he crossed from Leghorn to Cape 
 Corso, and managed in November 1 7 65 to get on 
 terms with Pasquale de Paoli, the hero, the Garibaldi 
 of that generation — the leader, in brief, of the Corsican 
 insurgents in that rash revolt against Genoa which 
 landed them in the net of France. He posed to Paoli 
 as a kind of Hamlet, a mountain prince of Scotia, 
 abandoned to melancholy, bewildered by fruitless meta- 
 physical wanderings, and for ever incapable of decisive 
 action. He also took the liberty of asking Paoli a 
 thousand questions with regard to the most minute and 
 private circumstances of his life. He rode out on 
 Paoli's own horse, with furniture of crimson velvet and 
 gold lace ; he exulted in being taken for an ambassador ; 
 he played to the Corsicans on his German flute our 
 beautiful old Scots tunes, " Gllderoy " and " Corn 
 Riggs are Bonny " ; he turned *' Hearts of Oak " into 
 Italian, quoted Johnson's moral sayings, and fancied 
 himself, as he wrote to J. J. Rousseau, all Plutarch's 
 heroes rolled into one. After six weeks of this exotic 
 existence he escorted Rousseau's Therese to London, 
 and, in February 1766, found himself back in Fleet 
 Street, at the Mitre, introducing Temple to "Dictionary 
 Johnson." In this same month he called on the Earl 
 of Chatham in Corsican costume to plead the cause 
 of Paoli. Boswell wrote to thank the statesman 
 for his " genteel reception," adding, " Could your 
 lordship find time to honour me now and then with 
 a letter ? " 
 
 In accordance with the family compact, already 
 referred to, Boswell was now admitted advocate at 
 Edinburgh, and signalised his return to the law by an
 
 INTRODUCTION xxi 
 
 enthusiastic pamphlet entitled, ''The Essence of the 
 Douglas Cause" (November 1767), in which he 
 vigorously defended the youthful claimant from the 
 charge of imposture. In August 1767 he had sold to 
 Mr. Dilly in the Poultry, for a hundred guineas, to be 
 paid within three months of publication, his " Account 
 of Corsica : Journal of a Tour to that Island, and 
 Memoirs of Pascal Paoli," which was printed by the 
 Foulis Brothers of Glasgow, and brought out early in 
 1768. The liveliness of personal impression which he 
 managed to communicate to all his books gained for 
 this one a deserved success. The " Diary of a green 
 goose and a Hero," as Gray called it, was read by every- 
 body, and promptly translated into French, German, 
 Italian, and Dutch. The author, known as " Paoli 
 Boswell," came to London to enjoy his triumph in 
 March. " My book has amazing celebrity," he writes 
 to Temple. "Lord Lytton, Mr. Walpole, Mrs. 
 Macaulay, Mr. Garrick have all written me noble 
 letters about it. ... I am really the great man now. 
 I have had David Hume in the forenoon, and Mr. 
 Johnson in the afternoon of the same day visiting me. 
 Sir John Pringle, Dr. Franklin dined with me one day, 
 Mr. Johnson and General Oglethorpe one day, Mr. 
 Garrick alone another, David Hume and other literati 
 next week. ... In a day or two I set up my chariot. 
 . . . You must think awhile to enjoy the idea." Boswell 
 plunged into all his youthful dissipations. He found 
 that the fever of play still lurked in his veins, and lost 
 more money than he could pay. He drank heavily, in 
 spite of the solemn pledges he had made to Paoli and 
 to Temple '* under the solemn yew."* He fell in love 
 with a series of " angelic girls." Marriage was beyond 
 his means. Adultery he regarded as the most horrible 
 * See pages 130, 160, 189, 231, 255.
 
 xxU INTRODUCTION 
 
 of faults. He has, however, taken a house for a sweet 
 little mistress who has been deserted by her husband. 
 The names of Miss Blair, Mary Anne, la belle Irlandoise, 
 an Italian angel, a Dutch charmer called Zelide, Miss 
 Bosville, Miss Dick, and " the Princess," succeed 
 
 those of Miss W 1 and the sweet little one 
 
 rapidly in this connection.* " I find mistresses 
 wherever I go," he writes to Temple. In July 1769 
 he is distracted by the news that Paoli is in London, 
 having been expelled from Corsica by the French. On 
 his way to town he appears in character at the Shake- 
 speare Jubilee, and to aid the crowd in the task of iden- 
 tifying him, has a placard inserted in his hat bearing the 
 legend, " Corsican Boswell." The following categorical 
 description of his attire was obligingly supplied to 
 the London Magazine (with an engraving) by the chief 
 performer himself. *' One of the most remarkable 
 masks upon this occasion was James Bowell, 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 and 
 breeches, and black spatterdashes ; his cap, or bonnet, 
 was of black cloth ; on the front 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 
 Corsica, 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 full length with a knot of blue ribbon at the end of 
 
 * For some essays at the identification of these charmers see Notes 
 and (Queries, pasiim, and especially second series iii. loc. cit.
 
 INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 it. He had, by way of a staff, a very curious vine, all 
 of one piece, emblematical of the sweet bard of Avon. 
 He wore no mask, saying it was not proper for a gallant 
 Corsican. So soon as he came into the room he drew 
 universal attention." * The proposal of the Stratford- 
 on-Avon tradesmen that they ought to have a jubilee 
 at Stratford every year met with his warm support. 
 " I flatter myself," he wrote to Garrick, " with the 
 prospect of attending you at several more jubilees." In 
 London he dined with " the great," and endeavoured 
 to extract from Johnson his views at large upon the 
 subject of marriage. The oracle was dumb, but Boswell 
 was soon to test the question experimentally, for after a 
 short trip in Ireland, undertaken, in part, to empty his 
 head of Corsica (Johnson's emphatic direction), he 
 married his cousin, Miss Peggy Montgomery, on 
 25 November, 1769. That his previous liaisons must 
 have caused him for a time a good deal of anxiety is a 
 natural inference from some of his confessions to 
 Temple about this tlme.f Nor was he free, it seems, 
 in his unwonted constancy, from fits of passion or 
 gloom, though he ascribes these outbursts, rather oddly, 
 to his wife's great goodness. "There is something 
 childish in it, I confess." 
 
 For some years after this Boswell's visits to London 
 were brief, and his correspondence, even with Johnson 
 and Temple, perceptibly slackened. The great tour in 
 the Hebrides was mooted, but laid aside for a more 
 fitting opportunity. Boswell senior, regarded such 
 jaunts as "idle and extravagant," rather than in the 
 proper light as "highly improving." On 30 April, 
 1773, Boswell was present at his admission to the 
 Literary Club, for which honour he had been proposed 
 by Johnson himself, and in the autumn of this year in 
 * See page 109. t See page 134.
 
 xxiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 the course of his tour in the Hebrides, Johnson visited 
 the Boswells in Ayrshire. Neither Boswell's father 
 nor his wife shared his enthusiasm for the lexico- 
 grapher. Lord Auchinleck remarked that Jamie was 
 " gane clean gyte. . . . And whose tail do ye think he 
 has pinned himself to now, man } A dominie, an auld 
 dominie, that keepit a schule and ca'd it an academy ! " 
 Housewives less prim than Mrs. Boswell might have 
 objected to Johnson's habit of turning lighted candles 
 upside down when in the parlour to make them burn 
 better. She called the great man a bear. Boswell's 
 "Journal of a Tour in the Hebrides" was written for 
 the most part during the journey, but was not published 
 until the spring of 1 7 8 6. The diary of Pepys was not then 
 known to the public, and Boswell's indiscretions as to the 
 emotions aroused in him by the neat tripping ladies' maids 
 at Inverary and the extremity of drunkenness which he 
 exhibited at Corrichatachin created a literary sensation 
 and sent the " Tour " through three editions in one 
 year. In the meantime his pecuniary and other diffi- 
 culties at home were great. He made hardly more than 
 j^ioo a year by his profession, and his relations with his 
 father were persistently strained. In 1775 he began to 
 keep terms at the Inner Temple, and managed to see a 
 good deal of Johnson between whom and John Wilkes 
 he succeeded in bringing about a meeting at the famous 
 dinner at Dilly's on 15 May, 1776. On 30 August, 
 1782, his father died, leaving him an estate with 
 ^1600 a year. On 30 June, 1784, Boswell met 
 Johnson for the last time at a dinner at Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds's. He accompanied him back in the coach from 
 Leicester Square to Bolt Court. " We bade adieu to each 
 other affectionately in thecarriage. Whenhe had gotdown 
 upon the foot-pavement he called out ' Fare you well ' ; 
 and without looking back, sprung away with a kind of
 
 INTRODUCTION xxv 
 
 pathetic briskness, if I may use that expression, which 
 seemed to indicate a struggle to conceal uneasiness, and 
 impressed me with a foreboding of our long, long 
 separation." Johnson died that year, and two years 
 later the Boswells moved to London. In 1789 Mrs. 
 Boswell died, leaving five children. She had been an 
 excellent mother and a good wife, despite the infidelities 
 and drunkennesses of her husband, and from her death 
 Boswell relapsed into worse excesses, grievously aggra- 
 vated by hypochondria.* He died of a complication of" 
 disorders at his house in Great Portland Street on 
 19 May, 1795, in the fifty-fifth year of his age, and 
 was buried a fortnight later at Auchinleck. Subjected 
 more than most people, it may be, in his later days to 
 the sense of the futility of human life, the failure of the 
 "towering hopes" of youth, Boswell had yet achieved, 
 in a way that can be alleged of how few men, the 
 main purpose of his erratic career, and it might 
 truly have been inscribed on his epitaph that he had 
 " Johnsonised " the land. The desire that his life 
 should tell\ had been signally fulfilled. Up to the eve of 
 his last illness he had been busy upon his sheet-anchor 
 and chef-d'ceuvre " The Life of Samuel Johnson," which 
 was in process of crystallisation to the last. The first 
 edition was published in two quarto volumes in an 
 edition of 1700 copies on 16 May, 1791. He was 
 preparing a third edition when he died ; this was 
 completed by his friend, Edmund Malone, who 
 brought out a fifth edition in 1807. That of James 
 Boswell junior (the editor of Malone's variorum 
 Shakespeare, 182 1) appeared in 181 1. The eleventh 
 was brought out by John Wilson Croker in 1831; 
 in this the original text is expanded by numerous 
 letters and variorum anecdotes, and is already knee- 
 
 * 
 
 See page 270. t See page 245 
 
 •
 
 xxvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 deep in annotation.* Its blunders provoked the cele- 
 brated and mutually corrective criticisms of Macaulay 
 and Carlyle. 
 
 Sir Leslie Stephen, writing twenty years ago, main- 
 tained that the last word on the subject was contained 
 in these last two essays. But there is no last word in 
 literary biography or literary criticism until a once 
 famous reputation is moribund. This is certainly not 
 the case with Boswell, who fills a larger place every year 
 in our literary consciousness as one of the greatest of all 
 British humourists. His morbid loquacity, which makes 
 him blurt out things that we studiously ignore about 
 ourselves, whether from inattention or shame, makes 
 him a freak of letters, but a freak, like that of the 
 patient with a glass window in his intestine, simply 
 invaluable to the students of psychological analysis. 
 And, in spite of his ludicrous immoralities, it is clear 
 that he was a tender-hearted man, his heart was in the 
 right place, and if he is an inconsistent bundle of 
 humours, all things by turns and nothing long, he 
 represents to the letter the " homme ondoyant et divers" 
 of M. Montaigne's profound speculation. His nature, it 
 must seem, was subject in a remarkable degree to the 
 violent fluctuations and ebullitions that one expects from 
 a popular actor. And, indeed, he was an actor, as a 
 mimic of Johnson he surpassed even Garrick, and he 
 was practically never off the stage. And yet, through- 
 out his whole career, he pursued with a singular con- 
 sistency an object worthy of a great artist, namely, 
 the developpement du moi through the medium of a 
 
 * Its value as an unrivalled granary of Johnsoniana, stored oppor- 
 tunely before the last links with the Johnsonian Age had disappeared, 
 has not perhaps been adequately recognised, though it has been 
 easily surpassed in all scholarly qualities by the famous six-volume 
 edition of 1887 by Dr. Birkbeck Hill, which has taken rank with 
 Elwin's "Pope," Spedding's " Bacon," and Cook's " Ruskin."
 
 INTRODUCTION xxvii 
 
 detailed, experimental biography and autobiography 
 combined — that magnum opus^ of the greatness of which 
 he was so fully conscious and of the deliberate aim and 
 intention of which he gives so many interesting hints 
 in these " Letters." * Such an object has been effected 
 now and again by the greatest of creative artists such 
 as Plato, Virgil, Dante, Milton, Bunyan, Scott, Shelley, 
 and Wordsworth. It has been done to a less degree in 
 diaries and novels, and allegories and essays ; but nevei 
 before, or since, in a biography. Boswell's" Johnson," 
 to which the " Letters " form so indispensable a portal, 
 is thus unique. It has many other unrivalled qualities. 
 As a full length, for instance, with all the blotches and 
 pimples revealed ("I will not make my tiger a cat to 
 please anybody ! ") ; as a model of dramatic biography ; 
 as a gallery of figures veraciously observed in order to 
 be described with so delicate a finesse and so comical 
 a perception of human frailty ; or as an inex- 
 haustible mine of Table Talk, Boswell's " Life " has 
 tinged the whole lives of many thousands of people 
 now living, and will tinge that of many hundreds of 
 thousands still to be born. But it is more than that. 
 It is more than the life of an individual. It is as a 
 representation of Human Life in the widest and most 
 general sense that the book is unique. 
 
 The old theory to explain such a marvel, originally pro- 
 pounded by Gray when the " Tour in Corsica " appeared, 
 that " any fool may write a valuable book by chance," 
 and Macaulay's emendation to the effect that Boswell 
 wrote his book because, and not in despite of the fact 
 that he was a fool, are now regarded as equally untenable. 
 Boswell was a fool only in the sense that he claimed 
 the rights of a chartered libertine, as a jester of old or 
 
 * For the progress of Boswell's sentiment in regard to his work, 
 see pages 218, 221, 257-8, 265, 267, 278, 282.
 
 xxviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 a lunatic among Red Indians, to make his book a 
 Palace of Truth, an altar to a new divinity almost un- 
 known in literature. His quasi-divine candour makes us 
 laugh, but while laughing we are forced to the conclusion 
 that Boswell's was a biographical genius of the very 
 first order. It is one of the surest signs of Johnson's 
 superiority that (in spite of all Boswell's teasing impor- 
 tunities and indescribable vagaries) he knew how to 
 appreciate Boswell. For other reasons I love and 
 revere Macaulay, only less than Sir Walter or St. Charles; 
 but nothing reveals Macaulay's impenetrable pomposity 
 in a worse light than his rhetorical passage about 
 Boswell (the well-known one, commencing "Servile 
 and impertinent, shallow and pedantic, a bigot and a 
 sot ") or shows more convincingly at what a terrible 
 cost of flexibility and humour his supremely great 
 qualities had to be purchased. Boswell's charm for us 
 is ever his inextinguishable and instinctive humanity — 
 the transparent way in which, through the infinite 
 variety of moods that chase one another over the surface 
 of his mind, he thinks aloud (as primitive men and 
 criminals, it is said, are wont to do) and in thinking 
 aloud reveals the iridescent Everyman that lurks in 
 each one of us. If it could ever be the desiderium of 
 the critic to endeavour to condense a chameleon into a 
 small glass bead, it were easy, by way of summary, to 
 reflect the diminutive image of Boswell as a corre- 
 spondent in that prince among postcripts which con- 
 fronts the delighted reader at the close of that letter to 
 Temple, written in such " a hurry of variety " from 
 Grantham on 22 May, 1775. "There is a Miss Sil- 
 verton in the Fly with me, an amiable creature who 
 has been in France. I can unite little fondnesses with 
 perfect conjugal love. Remember to put my letters in 
 a book neatly ; see which of us does it first " ! Who
 
 INTRODUCTION xxlx 
 
 can describe Albion as perfidious, or a hypocrite, after 
 this ? 
 
 At a friend's death-bed one instant, reciting Young's 
 *' Night Thoughts," in a stage coach the next, exulting 
 in the complacency of a plump widow who nurses 
 his lame leg upon her knee, making noble resolutions 
 of constancy in the hall, and entirely losing his 
 equanimity upon the intrusion of a handsome housemaid 
 (Matty's her name, if you want to know) into the 
 parlour, sighing for office at one moment, for sound 
 scholarship the next, and going home blind drunk and 
 toppling into a ditch the same evening, Boswell gives 
 us in these letters one of the most amazing trans- 
 parencies of vain humanity that we can ever expect to 
 see exhibited. 
 
 And the republication of this wonderful looking-glass 
 has an appropriate significance in this winter season 
 of 1908-9. The first is the year of Boswell's elevation 
 in his favourite impersonation of the great man at 
 Lichfield : the second is the bicentenary of Dr. Johnson's 
 birth in the same city. 
 
 THOMAS SECCOMBE. 
 
 Acton, October 1908.
 
 LETTERS OF JAMES BOSWELL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 1758-1761 
 
 Boswe/l's early style of letter-writing — The ^'^ Elegance of Friend- 
 ship " — Elfrida — Introduction to David Hume — His character — 
 
 Falls in love with Miss W / — Her qualities and fortune — 
 
 Mr. Love^ the player — Sir David Dalrymple — Cambridge — Study 
 of law at Edinburgh — Dr. yohnson's bumper to Lord Hailes — 
 Boswell on heirs male and treatment of daughters — yournalising. 
 
 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 original Introduction] ; 
 such, for instance, as his fondness 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 fair specimen of the style of 
 correspondence current at that time among young men of his 
 class. 
 
 i] Edinburgh, 29^/^ 7*^' '75^' 
 
 Dear Sir, — Your very obliging letter came safe to 
 hand two days ago. I spoke to my 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 with him, I really could not insist upon
 
 2 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 it, so you must excuse me from having the pleasure of 
 waiting 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 con- 
 vinced 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 enjoy all the elegance of friendship, talk 
 over our several studies, and take an agreeable jaunt 
 through Northumberland. 
 
 I congratulate you on the entertainment you received 
 from the two performances you mention. " Elfrida" * 
 I have seen, but never read it ; however I intend to 
 have it on your recommendation. I will not compli- 
 ment you on your exact judgment and nice discernment, 
 but only say, as we have pretty much a similarity of 
 taste, what pleases you must likewise please me. That 
 on the Spleen (if done with spirit) will be very enter- 
 taining. 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 
 
 * 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."
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 3 
 
 a choice collection of books. He is indeed an extra 
 ordinary man, — few such people are to be met witn 
 nowadays. We talk a great deal of genius, fine lan- 
 guage, improving our style, &c., 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 obhged 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 my last of the con- 
 tinuance of my passion for Miss W 1.* I assure 
 
 you I am excessively fond of her, so (as I have given 
 you fair warning) don't be surprised if your grave, 
 sedate, philosophic friend, who used to carry it so high, 
 and talk with such a composed indifference of the 
 beauteous sex, and whom you used to admonish not 
 to turn an old man too soon, — don't be thunderstruck 
 if this same fellow should all at once, subito furore 
 obreptus^ commence Don Quixote, for his adorable 
 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 csquo 
 
 * The name of this young lady has escaped through Boswell's 
 prudence in thus writing it. The loss is quite immaterial, especially 
 as his "passion" subsided, very naturally, and she is not heard of 
 again beyond the present chapter.
 
 4 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 animOy 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 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 turn 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 agree- 
 able 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 unsus- 
 
 * 
 
 This, we may presume, was " Mr. Love, of Drury Lane 
 Theatre," and once " a player at Edinburgh," a gentleman with 
 whom Boswell himself had studied, in order to purify his pronun- 
 ciation from the Scotch accent. Johnson, it will be remembered, 
 when Boswell referred to this training of his dialect, condescended
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 5 
 
 pected 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 1 am afraid you may too justly retort upon 
 me Horace's advice to his friend, — 
 
 " Rectius vives, Licini, neque altum 
 Nimis * urgendo." 
 
 You must know I am vastly happy with the thoughts 
 of the North Circuit ; my worthy Maecenas, Sir David 
 Dalrymple, 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 
 Auchinleck 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 your 
 motions are intended to be, and whether or not you 
 are going to Cambridge. Lord Auchinleck and my 
 mother return their compliments. 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 2] Edinburgh, \(>th 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 
 
 to reply, " Sir, your pronunciation is not offensive," with which 
 concession Boswell says he "was pretty well sacisfied." (Boswell's 
 " Johnson," March 1772.) The 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. 
 
 * [SiV in 1857 edition, Boswell quotes the same line rightly, p. 128.]
 
 6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 your friendship for me made me almost weep with joy, 
 as I know them to be the genuine sentiments of your 
 heart : even the compHments you are pleased to pay 
 me I believe sincere. 
 
 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 society 
 of bhss ! 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 sympathise 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 com- 
 panion and a friend to whom one can disclose every 
 tender sentiment. I dare say it gives you much 
 uneasiness 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 hap- 
 piness in being with the much-admired gentleman
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 7 
 
 you mention. The time seems to pass very agreeably 
 at Cambridge. 
 
 I can assure you the study of the law here is a most 
 laborious task. In return for yours I shall give you 
 an account 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 ; 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 : 
 
 " Virtue and happiness unite in one, 
 As light and heat both 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 Mr. Webster, but this I tell you inler nos. I have 
 published now and then the production of a leisure 
 hour in the magazines. If any of these Essays can give 
 entertainment to my friend, I shall be extremely happy. 
 
 My father and mother return your compliments in 
 the best manner, and retain a just esteem for you. 
 Your most sincere and affectionate friend, 
 
 James Boswell.
 
 8 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Sir David Dalrymple mentioned above was appointed one of 
 the Judges of Scotland in 1776, under the title of Lord Hailes. 
 Bosw^ell always expresses great affection and regard for him, 
 and his name is frequently introduced into the "Life of John- 
 son." It occurs there chiefly through the officiousness of 
 Boswell, who delighted to set his acquaintance upon writing 
 or talking of each other. Dr. Johnson, for instance, is made 
 on one occasion to do honour to the Judge by drinking a 
 bumper to him, "as a man of worth, a scholar, and a wit." 
 " I have, however," continued he to Boswell, " 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 occurred on occasion of the Judge's " pointing out exactly," 
 in an argument presented by Boswell to the Court of Session, 
 of which Dr. Johnson had contributed a portion, what part 
 had emanated from the Doctor's pen, and what was the lawyer's 
 own production. 
 
 When Boswell's mind, many years after the date of the 
 above letter, was troubled about settling hisfamily 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 loquacity." Boswell acted on this advice, 
 and his Lordship " obligingly took the trouble to write " on the 
 interesting topic, and gave his judgment «^«/«i/ Boswell's view; 
 but nothwithstanding his deep respect for the learned Judge, 
 his " partiality for male succession in its full extent remained 
 unshaken." He adds however the following generous and 
 touching sentiment : — " Let me not be thought harsh or 
 unkind to daughters, for my notion is that they should be treated 
 with affection and tenderness^ and always participate of the property 
 of the family.''^ 
 
 * Letter to Boswell, Jan. 15, 1776,
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 9 
 
 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 unconsciously affording to 
 the biographer of Johnson an opportunity of practising the art 
 which he used to such perfection at a subsequent period. 
 
 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."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 1761-1763 
 
 Attractions of London — BoswelPs taste for the army — Distaste for 
 fighting — Disgust for Scotland — His female friends — His poem^ 
 *' The Club at New?narket " — 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 accidentally lost. 
 
 The following letter, written in the spring of 1761, contains 
 the oft-repeated assertion, so familiar to all readers of the great 
 biography, " that Boswell's happiness was always centred in 
 London." He had visited the Metropolis 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 happiness of the beau monde 
 and the company of men of genius." With respect to getting 
 into the Guards, although Boswell was anxious to enter the 
 army at this period, it was that he might strut in scarlet and 
 gold 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 heroick 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 
 persuaded I 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 
 
 10
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE ii 
 
 great satisfaction of his father, whose judgment indeed in this 
 matter received corroboration from another 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] Edinburgh, 1st May, 1761. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I was favoured with yours 
 some posts ago ; I 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- 
 cern for my interest as ever ; but oh, my friend ! how 
 could 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 
 honoured by an intimacy with Mr. Temple, and, while 
 he comforts himself with that, can calmly smile at the 
 attacks of Qiivy 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 begun 
 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 i?eau monde 
 and the company of men of genius, in short every- 
 
 * Boswelliana, in Philobiblion, vol. ii.
 
 12 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 thing that he could wish, — consider this poor fellow 
 hauled away to the town 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 quite cramped, and he obliged to study 
 Corpus Juris Civilis, and live in his father's strict 
 family ; is there any wonder. Sir, that the unlucky dog 
 should be somewhat fretful ? Yoke a Newmarket 
 courser to a dung-cart, and I'll lay my life 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 (1762) saw Boswell again in his 
 dear London, where Mr. Temple and he had probably frequent 
 opportunities of meeting ; and when, shortly afterwards, the 
 latter was obliged to leave the Metropolis for Cambridge, 
 he lent Boswell his chambers at Farrar's Buildings, in the 
 Temple. 
 
 Boswell published, in 1762, a little poem, "The Cub 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, 
 
 * The writer here enters upon detailed, but not very satisfactory 
 extenuations of his conduct, into which it is not at all desirable to 
 follow him.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 13 
 
 perhaps, that its perusal will not repay any one, unless he may 
 desire to satisfy a special curiosity as to what some persons 
 could write and others could read, under the name of poetry, in 
 the middle of the last century. 
 
 Boswell was also carrying on a "humorous" correspondence 
 with the Honourable Andrew Erskine, which was published in 
 1763. These letters are very characteristic of Boswell, as well 
 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 
 between two young associates, as that the writers should have 
 allowed them to be given to the world. We may perhaps 
 attribute their publication to Boswell's passion for notoriety at 
 any cost. Rather than live unnoticed in society, he would 
 incur its ridicule. It is clear indeed 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.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 1763 
 
 Makes the acquaintance of Dr. yohnson — Character of a true 
 friend — Mr. Dempster — Criticism — Supper with Mr. yohnson — 
 BosweWs new plan of life — The pensive Gray and the apothecary 
 Gray — Bob Temple — yohnson on the art of study — Boswell on the 
 advantages of adversity — Dr. yohnson" s rooms in the Temple — 
 Supper at the Turlis Mead — B reparation for travel — Dr.fohnson 
 accompanies him to Harwich — Writes him a letter of precepts. 
 
 The year 1763 was to Boswell a memorable one ; " for in it," 
 says he,* " I had the happiness to obtain the acquaintance of 
 that extraordinary man whose Memoirs I am now writing — an 
 acquaintance which I shall ever esteem as one of the most 
 fortunate circumstances in my life " The amusing account of 
 his first meeting with Dr. Johnson, "on Monday, the i6th of 
 May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back parlour, 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 narrative tells us the whole story, how- 
 ever 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 humiliating 
 abasement at the expense of my country ; " how, being " eager 
 to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ven- 
 tured to say, ' Oh, Sir, I cannot think Mr, Garrick would 
 
 * " Life of Johnson," cKWij 1763. 
 14
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 15 
 
 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 some- 
 what mortified, he yet "remained on the field, not wholly dis- 
 comfited," and succeeded in picking 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 v/rite 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. Johnson's. 
 
 4] Inner Temple, izth July, 1763. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Your very kind letter did rne 
 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 complaints when oppressed with 
 melancholy. A true friend differs much from a com- 
 panion. 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 estab- 
 lished. 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 :
 
 i6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 I dread not its continuance while we live, and I will 
 not quit the hope of its lasting longer than this exis- 
 tence. 1 should have written to you before to-day, 
 but have had a languor and absence of ideas ; even 
 now I 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 be 
 sorry for my weakness. I insist on your showing it 
 to nobody, and I beg that you may return 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 answer to 
 your last. 
 
 I ever am your most sincere friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 Mr. Dempster here mentioned was, it will be remembered, 
 the gentleman who, according to Boswell, 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 drink- 
 ing port and sitting up late with him affected my nerves for 
 some time after, he said, * One had better be palsied at eighteen 
 than not keep company with such a man.' " He was con- 
 federated about this time with the Honourable Andrew Erskine 
 and Boswell in writing a pamphlet 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 criticise a work though he could 
 not himself have produced it. It has been said also by some
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 17 
 
 one else, when rebuked in like manner for condemning a book 
 which, it was alleged, 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 Boswellian 
 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 may abuse a tragedy, though you 
 cannot make one. You may scold a carpenter who has made 
 you a bad table, though you cannot make a table : it is not your 
 trade to make tables." 
 
 In the following letter will be found Boswell's announcement 
 to his friend that he had " the honour of supping /^/^-«-^^/^ with 
 Mr. Johnson." This supper, with the conversation which 
 took place during the repast, will be found in its proper place 
 in the "Life of Johnson." The supper was at the "Mitre," 
 and Boswell says, " It happening to be a very rainy night, I 
 made some commonplace observations on the relaxation ot 
 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 good sample of Boswell's share 
 in Jiis dialogues with Johnson : and it will be a never-ceasing 
 source of wonder how a man who, according to his ownaccount, 
 rarely speaks anything but what is more or less weak, common- 
 place, and foolish, could understand, remember, 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 
 
 * " Life of Johnson " : see also on the 26th of July, when 
 Boswell again fell upon the weather and the Doctor again fell upon 
 him for so doing.
 
 i8 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 steady path, from persons well informed on the matter, and 
 who might have — 
 
 " wondered that his Lordship 
 Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ; 
 While other men of slender reputation 
 Put forth their sons to seek preferment out, 
 .... Some to the University." 
 
 5] Inner Temple, i/[th July, 1763. 
 
 My dear Temple, — When my last letter was 
 written (or rather writing) I was exceedingly dull, not 
 melancholy, but merely stupid. I dare say my letter 
 would show that plainly, 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 diff'erent 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. For my own part, retirement has 
 always sunk my 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 19 
 
 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, 1 suppose, men of genius and elegance. You 
 surprise me a good deal when you tell me that Mr. 
 Gray says he never saw Mr. 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 " Kings," whose 
 name he has forgot. He says he never doubted his 
 being with the author of the " Elegy in a Country 
 Churchyard," 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 affair 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 
 
 * This mistaking Mr. Gray (an apothecary) at a public-house 
 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."
 
 20 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 a frequent repetition of " said he " and " I replied " is 
 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 I ^th. — 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 1 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 
 this great Metropolis, which 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 wish to pass it with
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 21 
 
 satisfaction. I 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 allowed 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. t 
 
 I had 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, Temple, 
 can I help indulging vanity } Sir David Dalrymple 
 
 * A younger brother of Mr. Temple. 
 
 t This naive confession of Boswell is doubtless true : he is often 
 seen letting himself down naturally ; and on finding his vanity 
 somewhat hurt thereby, he tries to raise himself again rather 
 awkwardly and unsuccessfully.
 
 22 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 says to me, in his last letter, *' It gives me pleasure 
 to think that you have obtained the friendship 
 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 opera- 
 tion, like the tyrant who said, Ita feri^ ut se sentiat 
 emon. 
 
 Mr. Johnson was in vast good humour, and we had 
 much conversation. I mentioned Fresnoy to him, 
 but he advised me not to follow a plan, and he de- 
 clared that he himself never followed one above two 
 days. He advised me to read just as inclination 
 prompted me, which alone he said would do me 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, and that I should prescribe to my- 
 self five hours a day, and in these hours gratify what- 
 ever literary desires may spring up.t He is to give 
 
 * 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 from Dr. Johnson. 
 
 t " No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en, 
 In brief, Sir, study what you most affect." 
 
 laming of the Shrew.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 23 
 
 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 peculiar 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. Temple's father fell. 
 They are only preserved here inasmuch as they 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 Bos- 
 well, 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] Inner Temple, \()th July, 1763. 
 
 My dear Sir, — It is a kind of established rule. In 
 writing letters, to begin with acknowledging the receipt 
 of our correspondent's last favours. I should have 
 done so just now were it not for an antipathy of estab- 
 lished rules, which I have not yet altogether got the 
 better of. You pay me some genteel compliments on 
 the pleasure 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 1 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 
 
 * See p. 43, letter 14.
 
 24 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 yesterday. I took the liberty to open it, being anxious 
 to know what he had done in your affairs. I was sur- 
 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- 
 stand all the circumstances which he mentions better 
 than I could. I 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 
 philosophers who would court adversity merely to be 
 convinced 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, where the appeal from the court- 
 martial of his regiment is to be tried. His expenses 
 are to be borne out of the regimental money : Cambers, 
 their attorney, supplied him. He went down upon 
 Sunday. I accompanied him to Hounslow, and re- 
 turned to town in the return-chaise. Bob and I were 
 better together the last two 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 ; 1 like them 
 much : it is the best way for a single man to live that 
 I can imagine. 
 
 1 was with Mr. Johnson to-day. I was in his garret,
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 25 
 
 up four pair of stairs ; it is very airy, commands a 
 view of St. Paul's and many a brick roof. He has 
 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 veneration, sup- 
 posing 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. The place seemed 
 very favourable for retirement and meditation. Johnson told 
 me that he went up thither without mentioning it to his 
 servant when he wanted to study secure from interruption, for 
 he would not allow his servant to say he was not at home 
 when he really was. ' A servant's strict regard for the 
 truth,' said he, ' must be weakened by such a practice. 
 A philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial, 
 but few servants are such nice distinguishers. If I accustom 
 a servant to tell a lie for me^ have I not reason to apprehend 
 that he will tell many lies for himself?^'''' "Johnson's Stair- 
 case" 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 Johnson," 
 
 * It should perhaps be mentioned, that it is understood to be a 
 fact that a laundress in the Temple is not necessarily a washer of 
 anything, so that the apartments need not be figured to the sensi- 
 tive reader's mind as now dedicated to linen and the smell of soap- 
 suds.
 
 26 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 and which has employed some editorial ingenuity, is perhaps 
 elucidated by the following letter. It is simply a question of 
 who was the person " mentioned " by Boswell and abused by 
 Johnson, during a conversation recorded by the faithful bio- 
 grapher. The passage runs thus : " Of a gentleman who was 
 mentioned 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 principles had been poisoned by a noted 
 infidel writer, but that he was nevertheless a benevolent, good 
 man ; ' whereupon Johnson of course 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 and other sceptics, of 
 whom he says, they are " vain men," and that as truth would 
 not afford sufficient food to their vanity, they betook them- 
 selves 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 criticised, and the following letter corroborates 
 the supposition. 
 
 The supper which preceded, and indeed produced the con- 
 versation in question, took place on the 20th of July, and an 
 account of it is given at length in the "Life." 
 
 7] Inner Temple, 2yd July, 1763. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Would it not be absurd if 
 you and I should stand upon ceremony in our corre- 
 spondence .? 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 sentences in a reciprocal proportion ; 
 at least, I dare say I speak three sentences for one of 
 yours ; why then should I think that written conversa- 
 tion 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 27 
 
 I must observe that, to an indolent man, conversa- 
 tion is so much easier than writing that he will 
 gladly seize a large portion of the former, but with 
 reluctance contribute his share of the latter ; and 
 hence it is that we see so many awkward and ridiculous 
 excuses of hurry and a thousand other things, which, 
 although they have already been heartily laughed at, can 
 still present themselves with some degree of confidence. 
 
 On Wednesday evening Mr. Johnson, Dempster, 
 and my uncle. Dr. Boswell, supped with me at my 
 chambers. I had prodigious satisfaction to find Demp- 
 ster's sophistry (which he has learnt from Hume and 
 Rousseau) vanquished by the solid sense and vigorous 
 reasoning of Johnson. It was a very fertile evening, 
 and my journal is stored with its fruits. Dempster 
 was as happy as a vanquished argumentator could be ; 
 and the honest Doctor was cheerful and conversible 
 and highly entertained. 
 
 Last night Mr. Johnson and I supped together at 
 the Turk's Head Coffee-house : he was extremely en- 
 tertaining and instructive. I learn more from him 
 than from any man I ever was with. He told me a 
 very odd thing, — that he 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 the 
 facts that he has now, and he says that he has led 
 but an idle life ; 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 acquiring knowledge. He 
 is to correspond with me wherever I am, and he said, 
 " My dear Boswell, it would give me great pain to part 
 with you if I thought we were not to meet again." 
 
 Master Robert is returned. I have been writing a 
 pleasant ditty upon him :
 
 28 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Tune, Nancy Dawson. 
 
 Bob Temple has at Sarum been, 
 And all the pretty girls has seen ; 
 But he came back in the machine, 
 Because he was the barber. 
 
 From Mother Bowles he got good wine ; 
 He lick'd his 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 apothecary.* Morris t called and delivered your 
 letter : I am to pass an evening at his lodgings soon. 
 Clack supped with me on Tuesday. 1 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. 
 
 8] Inner Temple, z^th July, 1763. 
 
 My dear Friend, — This comes to you by Bob, 
 who has cheerfully consented 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 
 
 * Referring to Mr. Ogilvie's mistake in fancying that he had met 
 Gray the poet at an inn in Cambridge (see ante, p. 24). 
 
 t Probably Corbyn Morris, the author of an " Essay on Wit, 
 Humour, and Ridicule."
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 29 
 
 comes 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 to-morrow. 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 pay down 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 un jeune homme de famille et de merite^ 
 and hopes he will find in the Count le guide et k pro- 
 tecteur de sa jeunesse. My father writes to Mynheer 
 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 several 
 other letters, so that I can be at no loss where I am 
 going, especially as I have got some relations of the 
 first fashion at the Hague. My father has allowed me 
 £Go 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 affairs being thus far settled, I 
 must set out soon. I can have no excuse for indulging 
 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
 
 30 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 where my affection 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 return 
 
 to the Metropolis much happier, and more qualified 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 gentlemen in his present 
 
 capacity. It was a great honour to me his offering 
 
 it ; I must be proud : advise me fully about it, and 
 
 believe me ever yours, t n 
 
 ^ 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, z6th 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 prevent him from doing you 
 material hurt without a discovery. 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 surely could not mean
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 31 
 
 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, might rouse him from this apathy. It is 
 unlucky that Mr. Compton is a man of the same temper, 
 even in a higher degree : they will encourage each other 
 to be easy and keep their minds serene. I wish you 
 would write to your father again, and in the same way 
 that you formerly did. Represent to him how severe it 
 is upon 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 advantage of your misfortunes, which, upon this as 
 well as other occasions, he seems strongly inclined to 
 do. In short, my dear Temple, I am at a loss how to 
 advise 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.
 
 32 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 unlucky circumstance ; however, I think Bob 
 has nothing now to keep him 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 1 have let him have 
 another 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 to-day, 
 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 eleva- 
 tion), 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 instances of 
 Boswell's kindness, which he felt for his friend when suffering 
 from difficulties and family annoyances. 
 
 10] Inner Temple, i-ith 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 in so much danger ; and in the 
 next place, as his behaviour cannot fail to be a great 
 cause of unhappiness to you, my worthy friend, whose 
 happiness is most sincerely wished for by me. No
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 33 
 
 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 thoroughly ; 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 understanding or imagination, 
 so that he has not been designed by nature for a man 
 who should make a shining 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 
 malevolence ; 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 analysed 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 authority. 
 I really have a liking for Bob, and wish very much to 
 see him do well. As he has got so able and willing a 
 friend as 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 situa- 
 tion, 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
 
 34 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 him just now, you 
 would by that means risk a thousand pounds on the 
 uncertain conduct of a giddy youth ; and were he 
 again to he in distress, you would be deprived, in a 
 great measure, of the means of relieving him. Leave 
 him to the General, and see what he 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, 1 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 goes down to 
 Cambridge. His going thither removes him from the 
 dissipation and vice which idleness is apt to drive a 
 young man to in a metropolis ; and by want of gay 
 amusements, and by seeing good example, he may 
 acquire a habit of study and reflection that may be of 
 use to him as long as he lives. Encourage 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 disgusted 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 acquires even a relish of reading 
 merely for amusement, it is a great deal gained. Above
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 35 
 
 all, do what you can to establish him in solid notions of 
 religion and morality. 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 encourage 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. But there is one 
 great gratification in store for the jeune homme de famille et de 
 me'rite ; " Would you believe 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 me 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 con- 
 siderable 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 disappeared." We have just seen a description 
 by Boswell of his friend Bob's character ; we may now perhaps 
 glance at the picture of Boswell's by Dr. Johnson, in a letter 
 written to him at Utrecht, dated December 8, 1 763, which, 
 both for its own merits and as containing the Doctor's view 
 at this time, and after a very short acquaintance of his corre- 
 spondent's character and habits, should perhaps be here pre- 
 sented.* 
 
 "There lurks perhaps in every human heart a desire of dis- 
 tinction, which inclines every man first to hope and then to 
 believe that nature has given him something peculiar to himself. 
 
 * See *'Life of Johnson," anno 1763.
 
 36 
 
 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 This vanity makes one mind nurse aversion, and another 
 actuate desires, till they rise by art much above their original 
 state of power ; and as affectation in time improves to habit, 
 they at last tyrannize over him who at first encouraged them 
 only for show. Every desire is a viper in the bosom, who 
 while he was chill was harmless, but when warmth gave him 
 strength he exerted his poison. You know a gentleman * who 
 when first he set his foot in the gay world, as he prepared him- 
 self to whirl in the vortex of pleasure, imagined a total indiffe- 
 rence and a universal negligence to be the most agreeable 
 concomitants of youth, and the strongest indication of an airy 
 temper and a quick apprehension. Vacant to every object and 
 sensible of every impulse, he thought that all appearance or 
 diligence would deduct something from the reputation of genius, 
 and hoped that he should appear to attain, amidst all the ease 
 of carelessness and all the tumult of diversion, that knowledge 
 and those accomplishments which mortals of the common 
 fabric obtain only by mute abstraction and solitary drudgery. 
 He tried this scheme of life awhile, was made weary of it by 
 his sense and his virtue ; he then wished to return to his studies, 
 and finding long habits of idleness and pleasure harder to be 
 cured than he expected, still willing to retain his claim to some 
 extraordinary prerogatives, resolved the common consequences 
 of irregularity into an unalterable degree of destiny, and con- 
 cluded that nature had originally formed him incapable of 
 rational employment. Let all such fancies, illusive and 
 destructive, be banished henceforward from your thoughts for 
 ever. Resolve, and keep your resolution ; choose, and pursue 
 your choice." 
 
 This letter, which would have been valuable if Boswell had 
 acted upon its precepts, was not followed by others during the 
 next two years, although he tells us that he wrote to his 
 revered friend on fitting occasions. However, on Boswell's 
 return the Doctor did write a flattering letter, saying that as 
 " apologies for such neglect are seldom of any use," he there- 
 fore makes none, and so closes the subject ; and nothing more 
 was heard about the poor biographer's chagrin at having had 
 no more letters. 
 
 * Of course the description which here follows applies to Boswell 
 himself.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 37 
 
 1 1] Inner Temple, zSti Ju/y, 1763. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I have now fixed to-morrow 
 se'nnight, Friday the 5th of August, for the day of my 
 departure ; and on Saturday, the 6th, I shall be upon 
 the Channel. Alas, my friend ! let me disclose my 
 weakness to you. My departure fills me with a kind 
 of gloom that quite overshadows my mind. I could 
 almost weep to think of leaving dear London and the 
 calm refinement of the Inner Temple. I am now 
 launching into the wide world, and am to be long at a 
 distance from my dear Temple, whose kind and amiable 
 counsel never failed to soothe my dejected mind. You 
 may see I am somewhat melancholy ; pray comfort me. 
 This is very effeminate and very young, but 1 cannot help 
 it. My time is fixed, and I will go; I have taken my 
 resolution, and you shall see that I can keep to it. 
 
 I enclose you a friendly dissertation, which you may 
 
 read at your leisure ; it will show how much stronger my 
 
 mind was last night only. I am just going to meet Mr. 
 
 Johnson at the Turk's Head.* My kind service to Bob. 
 
 Yours ever, with most sincere affection, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 12] Innkr Temple, '^rd August, 1763. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Your last letter is from a man in 
 that dejection of spirits which both you and I are un- 
 happily subject to ; all things appear dismal then, and 
 reason no longer bears sway. My dear friend, let us 
 mutually relieve and comfort each other in these dark- 
 some hours ; and let this be your constant solace, as it 
 is always mine, that true friendship such as ours will ever 
 last, and will ever render us sensible to each other's dis- 
 tress of every kind ; and surely we are both very much 
 
 * Duly chronicled in the Seventeenth Chapter of the " Life of 
 Johnson."
 
 38 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 mistaken if either of us should want assistance of any kind 
 which the other would not cheerfully give. " Give" is 
 a bad word, it makes too great a difference between us, 
 who should consider ourselves as one person. 
 
 I hope in God your affairs will be settled in such a 
 way that you shall be able to live comfortably. Pray, 
 my friend, do not indulge gloomy thoughts. Let 
 pleasing study and meditation amuse your mind, and 
 relieve yourself by thinking on your absent friend, who 
 shall often think of you, and when he returns shall 
 be most cordially connected with you. To-morrow 
 morning, at five o'clock, 1 set out upon my travels. I 
 am much hurried with putting all my things in order. 
 I have left some parcels in one of the drawers, which 
 I beg you may keep for me till I return. I have been 
 a great deal with Mr, Johnson of late, and (would you 
 believe it ?) his friendship for me is so great that he 
 insists on seeing me sail, and has actually taken a place 
 in the coach to accompany me to Harwich. 
 
 I am quite hurried and confused to-night; however, I 
 shall go with rational and agreeable views of improve- 
 ment, and hope to return much better than when 1 went 
 away. I like your present of Mason's Poems exceed- 
 ingly, and shall take it only, as Horace can be had every- 
 where. Mr. Gray's Poems will be left for you with Mr. 
 Edwards. And now, my dear Temple, God bless you 1 
 I am going far away, and for a long time, but let us cor- 
 respond frequently, and so make the time seem shorter. 
 Remember me kindly to NichoUs and Bob. Farewell ! 
 I ever am yours, with sincere regard, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 From the date of the above letter to February, 1766, Boswell 
 was abroad, and none of his letters to Temple, if any were 
 written, have been preserved; how the interval of time was 
 spent will be seen presently.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 I 764-1767 
 
 Studies at Utrecht — Letter to Sir Andrew Mitchell — BoswelPs 
 " spirited tour " — Fisits Voltaire and Rousseau — Corsica — Pascal 
 Paoli — Corsican History and Journal — WalpoWs and Grafs 
 criticism — Dedication of the book — Visit to Mr. Pitt — Corre- 
 spondence with Temple resumed — Boswell on the clerical character 
 and bachelorship — Marriage — Progress in the law — Contemplates 
 matrimony — Zelide — j4 Scotch lass — Writes to Lord Chatham — 
 The Douglas cause — Professional business — Miss Blair — Rough 
 notes for a conversation — Temple marries. 
 
 A WINTER was devoted by Boswell to Utrecht ; how much to 
 study, and how much to various dissipations, need not form 
 matter of deep speculation. He then proceeded on his travels, 
 visiting Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Corsica, Paris, and 
 returned early in 1 766 to London. 
 
 Two letters of Boswell, written during this foreign tour to 
 Sir Andrew Mitchell, have been published, and will be found 
 in the interesting Memoir of that Minister. As the editor of 
 the work mentioned below remarks,* these letters are very 
 characteristic of Boswell ;t and he adds, that " Boswell's 
 father, the Lord Auchinleck, so well known to all readers of 
 the most entertaining biography on record, seems to have been 
 
 * Memoirs and Papers of Sir Andrev^^ Mitchell, K.B., Envoy 
 Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary from the Court of 
 Great Britain to the Court of Prussia from 1756 to 1 77 1, edited by 
 Andrew Bisset, Esq., vol. ii. p. 381. 
 
 t The reader will moreover perceive that the second letter to Sir 
 Andrew bears upon the matter of the Temple family, for whom Bos- 
 well interests himself. 
 
 39
 
 40 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 pretty much of the opinion of Lord Burleigh on the subject or 
 foreign travel, who, in his letter of advice to his son, says, 
 * Suffer not thy sons to pass the Alps, for they shall have 
 nothing there but pride, blasphemy, and atheism. And if 
 they travel, they get a few broken languages that shall profit 
 them nothing more than to have one meat served in diverse 
 dishes.' " These letters are here subjoined. 
 
 Mr. Boswell to Mr. Mitchell. 
 
 1,1 z%th August, 1764. 
 
 You may believe. Sir, that I was a good deal sur- 
 prised to hear upon my return to Berlin that onze 
 Gezant* was gone. There was indeed a surmise at 
 Brunswick that you intended to return to England 
 this season. 1 was asked if it was true, and very in- 
 nocently affirmed that there was nothing in it. I find 
 however that when a man leaves a Minister at a foreign 
 Court but for a fortnight, he is not sure of finding him 
 upon his return. Your departure is a good deal un- 
 lucky for me, not only as it deprives me of conversa- 
 tion which gave me uncommon pleasure, and invariably 
 accustomed me to rational thinking and honourable 
 sentiment, but because I now particularly stand in need 
 of your prudent and kind counsel with respect to my 
 travels. I have had another letter from my father, in 
 which he continues of opinion that travelling is of very 
 little use, and may do a great deal of harm. I shall 
 not repeat what I have formerly said of my father's 
 particular character; I say particular^ for rarely will 
 you find a man of so excellent a frame of body and 
 so noble a mind as to have passed through life with 
 uniform propriety of conduct. t For my own part, I 
 own that I am not such a favourite of nature. Think 
 
 * Dutch for " our Envoy." 
 
 t The sense of this compliment is not very obvious.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 41 
 
 not that I intend to plead machinery, and escape from 
 the censure due to the faults which I have committed. 
 I only would have you consider that judgment is a 
 natural gift, as well as imagination and force of mind 
 is in a great measure independent of our endeavours : 
 think of me as I am, and pronounce accordingly. I 
 esteem and love my father, and I am determined to do 
 what is in my power to make him easy and happy ; 
 but you will allow that I may endeavour to make him 
 happy and at the same time not be too hard, upon jnyself. 
 I must use you so much with the freedom of a friend 
 as to tell you that, with the vivacity which you allowed 
 me, I have a melancholy disposition. To escape from 
 the gloom of dark speculation, I have made excursions 
 into the fields of amusement, perhaps of folly. I have 
 found that amusement and folly are beneath me, and 
 that without some laudable pursuit my life must be 
 insipid and wearisome ; I therefore took the resolution 
 of leaving London, and settled myself for the winter 
 at Utrecht, where I recovered my inclination for study 
 and rational thinking. I then laid my account with 
 travelling for a couple of years, but I found my father's 
 views to be entirely different. You saw the letter which 
 I wrote him from this, and I flatter myself that you 
 approved of it. I cannot expect his answer for some 
 weeks ; in the meantime he tells me that he would not 
 oppose my passing another winter at Utrecht, so that 
 he does not grudge the time which I ask. As for the 
 money, I should think for one year a little extra- 
 ordinary expense is not thrown away, when it is also 
 to be considered that what I spend now I shall not 
 have some years hence. My father seems much against 
 my going to Italy, but gives me leave to go from there 
 and pass some months in Paris. I own that the words 
 of the Apostle Paul, " I must see Rome," are strongly
 
 42 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 borne in upon my mind ; it would give me infinite 
 pleasure ; it would give me talk for a lifetime^ and I 
 should go home to Auchinleck with serene content- 
 ment. I am no libertine, and have a moral certainty of 
 suffering no harm in Italy ; I can also assure you that I 
 shall be as moderate as possible in my expenses. I 
 do not intend to travel as Mi Lord Anglois^ but merely 
 as a scholar and a man of elegant curiosity, and I am 
 told that in that character 1 may live in Italy very 
 reasonably. I obviate your objection of my being 
 obliged to live like others, by assuring you that I have 
 none of that second-rate ambition which actuates most 
 young men of fortune upon their travels. After 
 passing four months on classic ground, I would come 
 through France, and go home, as I said to my father, 
 uti conviva satur. 
 
 Now, Sir, tell me fairly if I am unreasonable. Upon 
 my honour, I cannot think that I am. I give you my 
 word that my father's inclinations shall be as inviolable 
 laws to his son ; but don't you think that I may just 
 remonstrate before I consider an act as passed ? Don't 
 you think that, rather than go home contrary to what 
 I much desire, and cannot help thinking very proper, 
 — don't you think it worth while to humour me so far 
 as to allow me my year and a reasonable sum, after 
 which I return clear and contented, without any pre- 
 tence for my stormy disposition to murmur at ^ I 
 would beg, Sir, that you may write to my father your 
 opinion as to this matter, and put it in the light which 
 you may think it deserves. In the meantime I can see 
 little advantage to be had at Berlin. I shall however 
 remain here a fortnight, after which I intend passing 
 by Mannheim, and one or two more of the German 
 Courts, to Geneva ; I am then at the point from whence 
 I may either steer to Italy or to France. I shall see
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 43 
 
 Voltaire ; I shall also see Switzerland and Rousseau : 
 these two men are to me greater objects than most 
 statues or pictures. 
 
 I take this opportunity to assure the loved and re- 
 spected friend of my father that I am sincerely happy 
 at having obtained his acquaintance, I would hope 
 that I shall not be found unworthy of his regard, and 
 I wish very honestly for an opportunity of showing my 
 real esteem for such a character as I could draw to 
 anybody else but to himself. 
 
 I am, Sir, your obliged, humble servant, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 I would be much obliged to you for an answer as 
 soon as you are at leisure to write. 
 
 The next letter relates to the affairs referred to already in 
 the letters to Temple, and, although as ridiculous in expression 
 as Boswell even could make it, is very creditable to his 
 amiability ; it shows too that he exerted himself to help the 
 father of his friend in his adversity. Upon this letter Mr. 
 Bisset truly remarks, that not only does he flatter his corre- 
 spondent judiciously, but he compliments himself in no small 
 degree, and "one fancies that one can see in these letters the 
 germ of the future most lively biographer of Johnson." The 
 editor of the Mitchell Papers rightly supposed it would not be 
 interesting to his readers to see the names of Temple and his 
 family in his collection, and he has therefore excluded them. 
 The letter runs thus : 
 
 Mr. Boswell to Mr. Mitchell. 
 
 14] Geneva, December zdth, 1764. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I thank you for your letter from Spa, 
 although it gave me no great encouragement in my 
 scheme of going to Italy. You tell me gravely to 
 follow the plan which my father prescribes, whatever it 
 may be ; and in doing so I shall certainly act most 
 wisely. I forgive you this, for I say just the same to
 
 44 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 young people when I advise. To enter into a detail of 
 the little circumstances which compose the felicity of 
 another, is what a man of any genius can hardly sub- 
 mit to. We therefore give a good, wholesome, general 
 counsel ; and he who consults us thinks a little, and 
 then endeavours to take his own way as well as he 
 can. I have however the happiness to inform you 
 that my father has consented that I shall go to Italy. 
 Upon my soul, I am grateful to the most worthy of 
 men : it will be hard if we are not well together, for 1 
 love him with the strongest affection. If I find that I 
 cannot succeed in my own plans, in such a way as to 
 convince my father that I am in the right, I shall do 
 my utmost to fulfil the plan beyond which he cannot 
 think to look. You may suppose what my ideas are, 
 for they are of your old acquaintances. One thing 1 
 am sure of, and, by the undisguised honour of a man 
 of probity, I swear, shall chiefly influence me, — a 
 regard to the happiness of him to whom I owe so much. 
 Believe me, I have a soul. 
 
 The intention of this letter is to beg your interest in 
 an affair which I have much at heart. My most inti- 
 mate friend, the friend of my youth and the comfort 
 of my being, is a Mr. Temple, of Trinity Hall, Cam- 
 bridge. He is an Englishman, and I am an old Scot ; 
 but brothers were never more united than we are. His 
 father was formerly Mayor of Berwick. He had an 
 employment in the Customs, but by misfortune became 
 bankrupt a year or two ago. My friend had a small 
 estate from his mother ; he has generously contributed 
 more than the half of it towards the relief of his father, 
 and has got the creditors to be satisfied ; but his father 
 has nothing to live upon. He understands business 
 very well. An employment of moderate income in 
 the Customs, or in one of the public offices, would
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 45 
 
 make him happy. His youngest son was Lieutenant 
 
 in the regiment of the late General , who was a 
 
 friend of the family, and promised to take care of the 
 young man. The regiment has been broken up some 
 time. The Lieutenant is on half-pay, and must have 
 a part of the little fortune which his brother still pos- 
 sesses. Surely it would be no very hard matter to get 
 him put upon full pay. 
 
 Sir, I beg and entreat of you to give me your interest. 
 You are the only man in Britain, except my Sovereign, 
 whom I would ask a favour of. I know you to be a 
 man of the most perfect honour ; and I know not 
 another who has been tried in public life. I have 
 written to Lady Northumberland ; but I confess I have 
 little confidence in her ; and, believe me, I have not 
 been mean enough to flatter her. Pray tell me how 
 much you can do. If you can aid me, you will most 
 truly oblige a worthy fellow, /or such I am. Were I as 
 rich as I shall probably be, the father and brother ot my 
 friend should not be as they are. 
 
 Adieu, respected Sir, 
 
 BOSWELL. 
 
 1 am very anxious as to this affair. Pray write to 
 me *''' Aux soins de, etc. etc. a Geneve^ etc. etc." 
 
 Whether these curious letters were productive of the good 
 effects Boswell desired, is unfortunately now undiscoverable. 
 Boswell visited different parts of the Netherlands ; proceeded 
 thence to Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Corsica, returning by 
 Paris. " I dare to call this a spirited tour ; I dare to challenge 
 your approbation," he exclaims to Dr. Johnson, in a letter 
 which the writer modestly describes, twenty years afterwards, 
 as " full of generous enthusiasm." * 
 
 In his passion for knowing and being known to celebrated 
 persons, Boswell sought out, on his tour, both Voltaire and 
 
 * See "Life of Johnson," anno 1765.
 
 46 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Rousseau, and, to his intense delight, was received by both 
 these famous men. The most important event of his travels, 
 however, was his visit to Corsica, and the acquaintance he 
 there made with Pascal Paoli. This latter event seems almost 
 to have turned 'his head. However he was relieved to some 
 extent after he had been delivered of his work upon Corsica, 
 which comprised two portions, — his "History" and his 
 "Journal." "Your History," writes Johnson to the happy 
 author,* " is like other histories, but your Journal is in a very 
 high degree curious and delightful. There is between the 
 History and the Journal that difference which there will 
 always be found between notions borrowed from without and 
 notions generated from within. Your History was copied 
 from books ; your Journal rose out of your own experience 
 and observation. You express images which operated strongly 
 upon yourself, and you have impressed them with great force 
 upon your readers. I know not whether I could name any 
 narrative by which curiosity is better excited or better 
 gratified." 
 
 It would seem that he had, previous to the publication or 
 the book, favoured the Doctor a little too much with his talk 
 about Corsica, and what he was going to write. He had, 
 however, he says, been "encouraged" by Johnson's telling 
 him, in reference to his intended publication, that, although he 
 could not " go to the bottom of the subject," yet " all that you 
 tell us will be new to us : give us as many anecdotes as you 
 can." The History is indeed a dull and weak essay, and 
 justifies the postscript which Dr. Johnson adds to a letter : f 
 " As to your ' History of Corsica,' you have no materials which 
 others have not or may not have. You have somehow or 
 other warmed your imagination. I wish there were some 
 cure, like the Lover's Leap, for all heads of which some single 
 idea has obtained an unreasonable and irregular possession. 
 Mind your own affairs, and leave the Corsicans to theirs." 
 And at a later date,t after reproaching Boswell for publishing 
 part of one of his letters without leave, he tells him to empty 
 his " head of Corsica," which has filled it too long. To this 
 sensible admonition the Doctor's correspondent replies,^ " How 
 
 * September 9, 1769. t August 10, 1766. 
 
 X March 23, 1768, § April 26, 1768.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 47 
 
 can you bid me 'empty my head of Corsica' ? My noble- 
 minded friend, do you not feel for an oppressed nation bravely 
 struggling to be free. . . . Empty my head of Corsica ! 
 Empty it of honour, empty it of humanity, empty it of friend- 
 ship, empty it of piety !" He might have added, empty it of 
 vanity and supply it with sense, for his follies and vagaries 
 upon this subject appear to have been excessive even for 
 Bosv^^ell. In spite of his ludicrous Corsican extravagances — 
 enough almost to have sunk his book beneath the ridicule of 
 his acquaintance and the literary vi^orld — it is undoubted that 
 his marvellous gift of giving interesting representations of 
 others, while he exposed himself to contempt and ridicule, was 
 displayed in his Journal. This part of the Work indeed excited 
 considerable attention, and is even now very amusing. Walpole, 
 in writing to Gray (February i8, 1768), thus speaks of it : 
 
 " Pray read the new account of Corsica ; what relates to 
 Paoli will amuse you much. There is a deal about the island 
 and its divisions that one does not care a straw for. The 
 author, Boswell, is a strange being, and, like Cambridge, has a 
 rage for knowing anybody that ever was talked of. He forced 
 himself upon me in spite of my teeth and my doors, and I see 
 has given a foolish account of all he could pick up from me 
 about King Theodore. He then took an antipathy to me on 
 Rousseau's account, abused me in the newspapers, and expected 
 Rousseau to do so too ; but as he came to see me no more, I 
 forgave all the rest. I see he now is a little sick of Rousseau 
 himself, but I hope it will not cure him of his anger to me ; 
 however his book will amuse you." 
 
 To this Gray, in his reply of February 25, 1768, says: 
 " Mr. Boswell's book I was going to recommend to you when 
 I received your letter. It has pleased and moved me strangely ; 
 all (I mean) that relates to Paoli. The pamphlet proves what 
 I have always maintained, that any fool mav write a most 
 valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard 
 and said with veracity. Of Mr. Boswell's truth I have not 
 the least suspicion, because I am sure he could invent nothing 
 of the kind. The title of this part of his work is a Dialogue 
 between a Green Goose and a Hero," The "veracity" of 
 the Journal indeed is vouched for not only by Boswell himself, 
 who declares that he wrote the most literal account of what 
 he saw and did, but also by the same characteristic traits which
 
 48 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 have given his " Life of Johnson" its fame. Some of his con- 
 versations with Paoli, which, of course, had still more interest 
 at the time when the Corsican patriot was in every man's 
 mind, have the true Boswellian virtue. The personal adven- 
 tures of the tourist only increase our astonishment, notwith- 
 standing Gray's opinion of its easy accomplishment, that such 
 a "fool" could appreciate and reproduce the Dialogues, or ever 
 had the opportunity afforded him of doing so by Paoli and his 
 friends.* " Before I was accustomed to Corsica," says he, " I 
 sometimes forgot myself, and, imagining I was in a public- 
 house, called for what I wanted with the tone which one uses 
 in calling to a waiter at a tavern. I did so at Pino, asking for 
 a variety of things at once, when Signora Tomasi, perceiving 
 my mistake, smiled, saying, with much calmness and good 
 nature, ' One thing after another. Sir.' " He mentions also a 
 curious circumstance with respect to himself, that, after talking 
 with the General some time, "my timidity wore off; I no 
 longer thought of myself." t He has recorded the like effect 
 when conversing with Dr. Johnson, and there is no reason to 
 doubt either statement. Again he tells us, "Every day I felt 
 myself happier. I had my chocolate served upon a silver 
 salver adorned with the arms of Corsica," He seems not 
 unfrequently to have confided to Paoli portions of auto- 
 biography, especially with regard to a topic with which we 
 know he indulged Dr. Johnson, viz. on hypochondria, a com- 
 plaint, it would appear, he was rather proud of. He thus 
 makes his confession on one occasion : " With a mind 
 naturally inclined to melancholy and a keen desire of 
 inquiry, I had intensely applied myself to metaphysical 
 research, and reasoned beyond my depth. ... I told him I 
 had almost become for ever incapable of taking a part in active 
 life." Probably his " timidity had quite worn off" at the time 
 of this interesting acknowledgment ; and assuredly his melan- 
 choly 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." :t One more 
 
 * "Journal " (second edit.), p. 277. f Ibid., p. 295. 
 
 X " Journal," p. 321.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 49 
 
 passage from the "Tour" must not be omitted: "One day 
 when I rode out I was mounted on Paoli's own horse, with 
 rich furniture 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 mankind are so strangely intoxi- 
 cated. ... 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 referred 
 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 Dedication 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 require. He had especially at heart the final k in words 
 like publick^ panegyrick ; 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 ot 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 future, 
 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
 
 50 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 to raise flattering expectations which are never fulfilled, 
 must sink the character of an author, and make him 
 appear a cringing parasite, or a fond enthusiast. 
 
 " I am under no apprehensions of that nature, when 
 1 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 
 attempt your panegyrick. That may in some measure 
 be collected from my imperfect labours. But I wish to 
 express to the world, the admiration and gratitude with 
 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, 
 
 " Sir, 
 " Your ever devoted, 
 
 " Obliged, humble servant, 
 
 "James Boswell." 
 
 "AucHiNLECK, Ayrshire, 
 
 " 29 October, 1767." 
 
 Boswell's acquaintance with Paoli was not only the cause of 
 the book being written, but enabled the enthusiastic Scotchman 
 to visit and enter into correspondence 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 :* 
 
 * Chatham Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 388.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 51 
 
 15] St. James's Street, Feb. 19, 1766. 
 
 Sir, — I have the honour to receive your most obliging 
 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 insinua- 
 tion 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, with 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 sympathise 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 slightest 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 Paoli, he's off wi' the land-Iouping scoundrel 
 of a Corsican ; and whose tail do you think he has pinned 
 himself to now, mon ? A dominie, mon, an auld dominie ; he 
 keepit a schule and cau'd it an acaudemy." The old gentle- 
 man, however, lived to modify this opinion, as will be seen 
 later in the volume. 
 
 Boswell returned to London in February, 1766, and was 
 
 * Boswell should have remembered, before he used this phrase, 
 Dr. Johnson's sneer on their first introduction. Mr. Pitt is here 
 left in doubt, by the language employed, whether Boswell is 
 describing Corsica or Scotland.
 
 52 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 able to enjoy the society of his friend Temple again. He 
 records that during his stay there he presented his "old and 
 most intimate friend the Rev. Mr. Temple, then of Cam- 
 bridge," to Dr. Johnson. This occurred at the " Mitre," and 
 Mr. Temple was indulged, 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 which here follow contain matter 
 which does not put the writer of them in a very becoming 
 attitude ; but the points referred to in them are closely con- 
 nected with subjects which Boswell much delighted to discuss 
 with the Doctor and other eminent men, and which occupy 
 considerable space in the " Life of Johnson." It is, therefore, 
 desirable to know what Boswell's private views and practices 
 really were ; for truthful as for the most part his representa- 
 tions of what was sent and meant may be, yet some prejudices 
 and colouring, drawn from his own character, were not unfre- 
 quently imparted to his writings.* If any further apology is 
 required for presenting such extraordinary 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. 
 
 l6] Edikburgh, isi February, 1767. 
 
 My dear Temple, — When I see lying before me 
 your last letter, dated the 2nd of December, and con- 
 sider how long a time has passed without any com- 
 munication between us, I am filled with wonder and 
 regret ; but I think both of us are so far arrived in the 
 knov^^ledge of human nature that we can calmly con- 
 template the vicissitudes of our own minds, and, 
 without fretting at our imperfections, can be sorry for 
 
 * This has been well shown in respect to Goldsmith by Mr. 
 Forster, in his "Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith." 
 
 I
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 53 
 
 them, while we are supported and cheered by the 
 consciousness of our good qualities. 
 
 I am sincerely happy that you are at length the 
 Reverend Mr. Temple. I view the profession of a 
 clergyman 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 are there displayed ; but 
 remember, Temple, you are there reading the vices 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 employed 
 in the rudest secular concerns. But if you would 
 judge fairly of the priests of Jesus, you must consider 
 how many of the distressed they have comforted, 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 cheer- 
 fully in the vineyard, and, if possible, to leave not a 
 tare in Mamhead.* You are tempted to join Rousseau 
 in preferring the savage state : I am so too, at times. 
 When jaded with business, or when tormented with 
 the passions of civilised life, I could fly to the woods, 
 
 * In Devonshire, of which place Mr. Temple was perpetual 
 curate.
 
 54 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 nay I could * on the face of a mountain, 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 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 Chris- 
 tianity 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 careful 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 
 
 * Here two words become undecipherable 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.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 55 
 
 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 
 would be better for a man 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 benignus, — a feather which flies about 
 and lights now here, now there ; and accordingly the 
 connections of a bachelor are always most extensive, 
 whereas a married man has a settled plan, a certain 
 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 ot 
 life, you will 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 man- 
 hood, and the pleasing pride of being the father of 
 brave and learned men, all which may be the case, and 
 depends much on our conduct as fathers, then mar-
 
 56 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 
 has 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 everything 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. 
 
 28//Z February. — In this manner I have travelled on 
 through seven folio pages. Every day I have intended 
 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 me, 
 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 57 
 
 instance, 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 replys and duplys 
 and tryplys ; and he will 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 which 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 question ; 
 and by binding up the Session papers a man may lay up 
 a treasure of law reasoning and a collection of extra- 
 ordinary facts. 
 
 4//^ 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 
 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 
 my 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
 
 58 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 force and elegance, and assist each other to dispel 
 every cloud. 
 
 You are right in preferring social life to retirement, 
 for no philosophy is equal to action ; you should not, 
 however, have quitted your elbow-chairs and fine car- 
 pets ; they are amusements, and you must not be with- 
 out them. You have had a fit of low spirits. 
 
 In a former part of this letter I have talked a great 
 deal of my sweet little mistress ; I am, however, uneasy 
 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 licen- 
 tiousness ; but what can I do .'' I have already taken 
 the house, and the lady has agreed to go in at Whitsun- 
 tide ; I cannot in honour draw back. 
 
 Oh, my friend ! were you but here ; but, alas, that 
 cannot be. Mamhead is not within a call ; it ought to 
 be, for you should always be my pastor, and I might 
 now and then be yours. Friend of my youth, explain 
 to me how we 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 .f" I wish I could get off ; 
 and yet how awkward would it be ! Think of your 
 Berwick Celia, and sympathise 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 Londonj but I do
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 59 
 
 not hear that his book on jurisprudence is in any for- 
 wardness. David Hume, 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 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. Gregory ;* 
 he was very desirous to know me. His book is inge- 
 nious 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 sincerely 
 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. Sinclair has never 
 found his brother. I don't write often enough to 
 
 * Dr. Gregory was Professor of Medicine in the University or 
 Edinburgh.
 
 6o LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Squire Boswell, but I shall give him a good letter 
 to-morrow ; 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 ? Zelide 
 has been in London this winter. I never hear from 
 her, — she is a strange creature. Sir John Pringle 
 attended her as a physician. He wrote to my father : 
 " She has too much vivacity ; she talks of your son 
 without either resentment or attachment." Her 
 brothers and I correspond ; but I am well rid of her. 
 You say well, that I find mistresses wherever 1 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 
 1 don't know how long. I have broke the trammels 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 
 waver. 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 
 myself with reflecting on my charmer's former loves, 
 and ruminating on parting with her, I went to her.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 6i 
 
 I could not conceal my being distressed. I told her I 
 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. 1 
 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 sus- 
 picious of her fidelity, and she thought that very un- 
 generous 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 
 follies, and we should be on an equal footing. My mind 
 all at once felt a spring ; I embraced her with transport. 
 [The letter then proceeds to say that the same evening 
 he supped with some friends, became intoxicated, 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 ; 
 she kissed me ; she gently upbraided me for entertain- 
 ing any unfavourable idea of her ; she bid me take 
 great care of myself, and In time coming never drink 
 upon any account. Own to me, Temple, that this was
 
 62 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 noble ; and all the time her beauty enchanted me 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 com- 
 pliments to them. There is a pretty book just now 
 published, " An Essay on the History of Civil Society," 
 by the Moral Philosophy Professor here. Let me 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 following letter, 
 and after an extremely original fashion : 
 
 17] AucHiNLECK, 30//^ 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 Auchinleck, I had time to think coolly, and 
 to call up that reason which I have so often con- 
 tradicted. 
 
 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 ;^ioo 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 63 
 
 my brother David had more. To him I discovered 
 my weakness, my slaverv, 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 1 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 i ; and, lastly, read what is between the scores 
 in page i. 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 
 answer : 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 
 rate be firm. What a snare have I escaped ! Do you 
 remember Ulysses and Circe ? — 
 
 " Sub domina meretrice vlxisset* turpis et excors." 
 
 My life is one of the 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 
 from my charmer, as much as from the gardener's 
 daughter who now puts on my fire and performs 
 menial offices like any other wench ; and yet just this 
 * [Sic in 1857 edition ; sc./uisset. Hot. Ep. I. ii. 25.]
 
 64 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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, 1 must tell you that 
 
 I have never owned Mrs. 's real kindness to me 
 
 except in my letters to you. I am much upon 
 honour 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 amiable 
 to mc ; 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. 
 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,
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 65 
 
 and add her lands to our dominions ? 1 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 
 possession here most naturally. This is a superb place ; 
 we have the noblest natural beauties, and my father 
 has made most extensive improvements. We 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 experience 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 
 recollect. How do you get your letters when my
 
 66 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Lord LIsburne is at London ? Must this go to his 
 Lordship's town-house ? Return me David's letter, 
 with the scroll, to Mrs. . 
 
 In the interval between the date of the last letter and that of 
 1 2th June, Boswell addressed a letter to the Earl of Chatham, 
 which ought not to be omitted, as it exhibits the self-compla- 
 cency of the writer in a curious manner. The modesty with 
 which he asks the Earl of Chatham to write to him "now and 
 then," that he may delight in being a correspondent of a great 
 man, is truly astounding : Boswell, however, was gratified to 
 some extent, for the next letter to Temple mentions a letter 
 of three pages from Lord Chatham. 
 
 i8] AucHiNLECK, Jpril %th, 1767. 
 
 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 admira- 
 tion which a disinterested soul can enjoy in the bower 
 of philosophy. [He then informs his correspondent 
 that he is about to publish an account of Corsica, 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE e-j 
 
 useful to my country. Could your Lordship find time to 
 honour me now and then with a letter? I have been 
 told how favourably your Lordship has spoken of me. 
 To correspond with a Paoli and with a Chatham is 
 enough to keep a young man ever ardent in the pursuit 
 of virtuous fame. 
 
 I am, etc., 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 Alas ! the following letter to Temple discloses that the pur- 
 suit of "virtuous fame" was not altogether preserved ardent in 
 the writer's mind by the means of the exalted correspondence 
 or otherwise. 
 
 19] Edinburgh, \zth June, 1767. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I have this moment received 
 your letter of yesterday. All your letters have come 
 safe. I may at times be a man of flight, but I am 
 equalled if not exceeded by my friend. Now, at Mam- 
 head, all passion for a pretty maid, yet profound, daring, 
 and philosophical ; then to London, and desiring me 
 not to write till I should hear from you ; and now, to 
 my astonishment, at Berwick-upon-Tweed. Never, 
 surely, were two men of minds more similar. I am not 
 surprised with what you tell me of your present views. 
 Perhaps 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- 
 bourhood is the finest woman I have ever seen. I went 
 and visited her, and she was so good as to prevail with 
 her mother to come to Auchinleck, where they stayed 
 four days, and in our romantic groves I adored her like 
 a divinity. I have already given you her character.
 
 68 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 My father is very desirous that I should marry her, — 
 all my relations, all my neighbours, approve 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 ; 1 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 our youthful 
 fancies roved abroad into extravagant, imaginary futu- 
 rity, shall we now consult together on plans of real 
 life and solid happiness. We can now hear from each 
 other every two days. How glad I am at this un- 
 expected meeting ! what a variety have we to talk 
 about ! I was at any rate to have insisted on your 
 coming down to see my princess. Perhaps 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 letter, 
 is often alluded to by Boswell 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 character 
 which naturally would attract 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 excitement 
 almost, if not altogether, unparalleled in the history of British 
 litigation. Perhaps this excitement was all the greater on ac- 
 count of the grossness of the scandals the trial revealed, and the 
 indecency divulged in its detail.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 69 
 
 The question in dispute was as to the heirship of Mr. Archi- 
 bald Douglas. If he were really the son of Lady Jane Douglas, 
 he would inherit large family estates ; but if he were suppositi- 
 tious, 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 married 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 ot 
 Edinburgh was for two days broken thereby, the Hamilton 
 party being on one occasion driven forth from the city, and 
 their family apartments in Holyrood House broken into and 
 plundered. 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 Duke 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 conclusive 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 injudi- 
 cial feeling exhibited. The lay Lords determined 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 Newcastle opened it on behalf of one side, and Lord 
 Sandwich, taking the opposite view of the question, answered 
 him. According to Horace Walpole * the latter nobleman 
 spoke at great length " with much humour, and scandalised the 
 bishops, having with his usual industry studied even the mid- 
 wifery 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 " perhaps the 
 most solemn and important ever heard at the bar ; " his Lord- 
 ship however not only thought it very important, but he thought 
 it very clear, alleging that "a more ample and positive proof of 
 
 * " Memoir of George III.," vol. iii, p. 303.
 
 70 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 the child's being the son of a mother never appeared in a court 
 of justice." 
 
 The proceedings in the 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 
 judgment. 
 
 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 Scot- 
 land ; but this was produced a good deal by Lord Mansfield's 
 wretched arguments [as to the impossibility of an illustrious 
 lady committing such a fraud], and the very able letters 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 judgment, 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, conform- 
 able 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, f a declaration I should not be so 
 arrogant as to make, if many able men were not as much per- 
 suaded as I am of the child being supposititious." X 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 judgment 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 pro- 
 perty. On both sides fraud and perjury were unscrupulously 
 
 * Lord Campbell's " Lives of the Chancellors," vol. v. p. 290. 
 t This is no compliment paid to equity. 
 t Chap. X. volj ii.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 71 
 
 called in aid of the respective claims of the noble houses. The 
 services of skilful scoundrels were purchased ; and indeed no 
 means which could be devised by the agents employed to pre- 
 pare and destroy evidence, 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 in 
 judges,* venality in lawyers, unscrupulousness among the 
 suitors and their creatures, and uncertainty in the administra- 
 tion of the law itself. These circumstances, however, as has 
 been already observed, rendered Boswell's interest in the matter 
 all the livelier. 
 
 The Cause is sometimes cited in the medico-legal books as 
 an authority with regard to the value of evidence relating to 
 family likeness,t when adduced to prove descent, as well as con- 
 taining a great deal of curious information upon the probable 
 limits of the parents' ages within which an heir or heiress may 
 interpose between an estate and its expectant inheritor to dis- 
 appoint him. 
 
 In addition to the judicial debates, the Parliamentary 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 
 
 * 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 extreme length to which it was carried. The reader may also 
 consult the " Annual Reporter " for 1 769 for a brief account of the 
 matter. 
 
 t The evidence 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 re- 
 sembled a French peasant. It was anyhow less clear than another 
 reported 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.
 
 72 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 
 counsel in the great last competition between Duke 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 appointed 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. 
 Macaulay had in his mind when he says that the bare recollec- 
 tion 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 misfortune 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 resentments of the Duchess of 
 Hamilton. 
 
 " I knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to 
 anybody ; but, that I might have the satisfaction for once to look 
 the Duchess in the face, with a glass in my hand, I with a 
 respectful air addressed her, ' My Lady Duchess, I have the 
 honour to drink to your Grace's good health.' I repeated the 
 words audibly, and with a steady countenance. This was 
 perhaps rather too much ; but some allowance must be made 
 for human feelings. ... I made some remark 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 credulity in the Douglas Cause. . . .
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 73 
 
 We went to tea. The Duke and I walked up and down the 
 drawing-room conversing. The Duchess still continued to 
 show the same marked coldness for me, for which, though I 
 suffered from it, I made every allowance, 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 why 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 o^ Mr. Boswell.' 
 Poor Lady Lucy Douglas, to whom I mentioned this, observed, 
 * 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 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 cordT * On the whole 
 we may perhaps conclude that Boswell derived far more pleasure 
 than dissatisfaction from mingling in this mighty Douglas 
 fray. 
 
 20] Edinburgh, 22«^ Jfti^'j ^767' 
 
 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 necessity enslaves me more or less. This 
 Douglas cause is still put off by some new delay. The 
 Lords are to examine to-morrow Isabel Walker, who is 
 one of Lady Jane Douglas's maids, and is the only per- 
 son 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. 
 
 * « 
 
 Life of Johnson" ; date, October, 1773.
 
 74 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 be, 
 in a great measure, disengaged, and any hours that 
 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 1 that my Temple comes to give it his 
 friendly revisal ! 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 with us : 
 when I get your answer, fixing a particular day, I shall 
 secure them for you. We shall live entirely in the 
 luxury 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 intimate affection. 
 My dear friend, is it not a distinguished felicity to par- 
 ticipate of the highest friendship as much as the greatest 
 and best of other ages have done ? This is literallv the 
 case with you and me : we are divine madmen to the 
 dull and interested many. Will you come on Saturday 
 or on Monday : 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, 
 
 James Boswell.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 75 
 
 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 disposi- 
 tion — 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, z6th June \)July], 1767. 
 
 My dearest Friend, — The first thing I must do 
 is to defend myself against a charge of affected im- 
 portance. 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 absurditv of mankind makes 
 nineteen out of twenty employ 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 moderate share of business is really 
 a load to me. So, my dear Temple, you are wrong. 
 Never suspect that I can be a bit better to you than I 
 am. You know me too well, and I am perfectly 
 satisfied with the genuine esteem which you have for me. 
 I 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 
 
 * 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 some grounds 
 for his assertion.
 
 -jd LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 with you. 
 
 I would not cloud my present frame of mind with 
 any gloomy reflection that concerns either you or 
 myself; it is better to communicate them when we 
 meet, when our mutual sympathy and friendly warmth 
 may temper and relieve them. [The letter then pro- 
 ceeds, and with very unnecessary particularity, with a 
 narration 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 
 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, 
 between us two, all rules and all maxims are suspended. 
 Pray prepare yourself for this adventure : we shall 
 settle it, 1 hope ; I cannot go with you though. You 
 are to see our country for a jaunt, upon my recom- 
 mendation, etc. Dearest friend, 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 This is Friday. If you write me a line to-morrow, 
 I shall have it on Monday by dinner-time.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE tj 
 
 The itinerary provided here by Boswell 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 discussion 
 leaves it uncertain whether Boswell was willing to excuse his 
 irregularities on the score of a predisposition 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, on his Tour to Auchinleck 
 
 and Adamtown. 
 
 He will set out in the fly on Monday morning, and 
 reach Glasgow by noon. Put up at Graham's, and 
 ask for the horses bespoke by Mr. Boswell. 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
 
 78 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 know them ; but talk 
 also how odd^ how inconstant^ how impetuous^ how much 
 accustomed to women of intrigue. Ask gravely^ fray 
 don't you imagine there is something of madness in that 
 family ? Talk of my various travels, German princes, 
 — Voltaire and Rousseau. Talk of my father ; my 
 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. Consider 
 what a romantic expedition you are on ; take notes ; 
 perhaps you now fix me for life. 
 
 'Thursday. — Return to Glasgow from New Mills or 
 from Adamtown. See High Church, New Church 
 College, and particularly the paintings, and put half-a- 
 crown into the box at the door. My friend, Mr. 
 Robert 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.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 79 
 
 22] Edinburgh, 2 9//5 y^i^, 1767. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I have more reason to make an 
 apology than you had, for I have been longer negli- 
 gent. Let us guard against this vice, and not subject 
 ourselves to continual returns of remorse to a certain 
 degree ; for every instance of our doing those things 
 which we ought 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 dissipa- 
 tion. The reflection however which follows the con- 
 fession of his folly is too extraordinary to be omitted.] 
 Will you forgive me, Temple, (says he) for exclaiming, 
 that all this evil is too much for the offence of my 
 getting drunk, because I would drink Miss Blair's health 
 in a large bumper ? But general laws often seem hard 
 in particular cases. 
 
 [The letter then proceeds with matter concerning his 
 love 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 
 her, and that I should not probably get a letter from 
 you without some fine thing said of her. I made 
 your compHments 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
 
 8o LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 bird in hand has made the heiress quit the uncertain 
 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 
 ** Jurisprudence " 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] Edinbukgh, wth 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 1 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, 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 return. I wrote Miss Blair on
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 8i 
 
 Wednesday the 5th, that I was afraid Mr. Temple had 
 told her my faults too honestly, so that she was mis- 
 taken 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 disorder, and had been dreaming a great 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 my Signora at Siena, written with all 
 the warmth of Italian affection ! I am a strange man, 
 but ever your most sincere friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 P.S. — David Johnston and all here wish you joy; 
 so does Sir Alexander Dick and Dr. 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,
 
 82 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 1767 
 
 Courting Miss Blair — " Dorando " — Matrimony — Mode of pre- 
 serving a reasonable attachment to Miss Blair — Disagreement 
 between father and son as to BosweWs merits — The " Corsican 
 JournaP^ — Lord Baltimore's tour — Lovers' quarrels — BosweWs 
 costume for courting — Miss Blair repudiated — Zelide and Miss 
 Bosville reconsidered — Miss Blair replaced — Dialogue between the 
 Prince and Princess — Its result. 
 
 The following Chapter contains a most absurd confession 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, indeed, an extraordinary pheno- 
 menon which he here exhibits : we see a rational man, appa- 
 rently conscious of the motives which are actuating him, which 
 he also discusses in these letters with considerable minuteness 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, might afiord 
 some extenuation of his behaviour. He is, moreover, willing 
 to offer as an explanation for his irregularities " 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 becoming a dignified man, viz., when his "Corsican 
 Journal " should be published, was unfortunately extended from 
 time to time for an indefinite period. 
 
 24] Edinburgh, z^tk August, ijSy. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Marriage is like to lose me a 
 friend ; for I have not had a line from you for near a 
 
 83
 
 84 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 fortnight, although my last letter was full of anxiety 
 
 with regard to my amiable Miss B . What can 
 
 have occasioned so long 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 con- 
 duct ; but, since I have waited so long in vain, I 
 now make you as easy as myself. I would send you 
 the letter, but it says so many fine things of you, that 
 I will not give you so much pleasure till I hear from 
 you again. 
 
 Wyvill was so good as to come and sit a whole after- 
 noon with me : he is an admirable critic on my account 
 of Corsica. He is gone on a jaunt to Glasgow, etc., 
 with his father and sister ; he sends you his best com- 
 pliments. 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. 
 
 25] Edinburgh, z%th August, 1767. 
 
 My DEAR Friend, — It seems you 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 85 
 
 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 alHance, 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 
 as a good English word, not having looked in Johnson. 
 You will next find the lady's answer ; then a long letter 
 from me, 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, &c. 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 restrain 
 myself from writing to her in transport. I will go to 
 Adamtown, and stay a week. I will have no disguise ; 
 we shall see each other fairly ; we are both independent ; 
 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
 
 86 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Johnston, who sits by me, sends you his most sincere 
 congratulations. Pray make my best compliments to 
 Mrs. Temple. I ever am, dear Temple, 
 
 Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 ["Dorando : A Spanish Tale." The brochure founded on the 
 Douglas Cause, and his championship of the youthful claimant 
 was called "Dorando : A Spanish Tale." After three editions it 
 was suppressed by the Court of Session, and this shilling booklet 
 is now sought in vain. It was reviewed in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine for July 1767. The best modern account of the cause 
 it championed is in Horace Bleackley's " Beautiful Duchess " 
 (1907).] 
 
 26] Edinburgh, 2()th August, 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 we have a strange custom of looking 
 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 interest 
 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 would furnish you 
 with an excellent subject for a homily, as worthy Sir 
 Alexander said. My old and intimate friend, can I
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 87 
 
 be better ? Can you suppose any woman in Britain 
 with whom more circumstances could unite to engage 
 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 probably 
 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, 9//^ 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 the plural number, as if the 
 affection between Miss Blair and me were of equal 
 importance to you as to your friend. I do think her 
 the finest woman I have seen, take her altogether, nor 
 could I wish to be happier 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
 
 88 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 
 interpreted 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 Mantucs ? Suppose I were 
 married to Miss Blair, would I not be Primus Mantua 
 at Adamtown ? and why 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 manner 
 you see, with that Scots strength of sarcasm which is 
 peculiar 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 the 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 89 
 
 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 carrier 
 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 publisher, 
 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. 
 
 The press is opened, and my book is fairly set 
 agoing. 
 
 " O navis, referet in mare te novum ! " 
 
 The proof-sheets amuse me 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 censure.^ I would not how- 
 ever disHke 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 Cor- 
 sica," is in my 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 
 
 * S/V In or'ig. 
 
 t We have seen Mr. Gray did say something about it in his 
 letter to Walpole, but not quite what Boswell would like to have 
 heard : antCy p. 60.
 
 90 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 the favour to peruse it with care, and write your 
 observations and corrections on a separate paper, 
 referring to the pages, as my Lord Hailes did. Pray 
 inquire 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 com- 
 fortable ; reading little, riding, walking, eating, drink- 
 ing, and sleeping well, and enjoying the society of a 
 wife whom you love. 
 
 " Parson, these goods in thy possessing. 
 Are better than the bishop's blessing." 
 
 My dear friend, I weary you with a letter of an 
 intolerable length : I cannot however conclude without 
 saying one word of the Princess. I shall write to her 
 to-morrow, and shall soon go and throw myself at her 
 feet, I offer my best compliments to Mrs. Temple, to 
 whom I hope to pay my respects next spring at Mam- 
 head, My old friend, at this moment our first acquaint- 
 ance at Hunter's class comes full into my mind : what 
 a crowd of ideas since ! Adieu. 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 28] Edinburgh, zxnd 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 91 
 
 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 occasioned by your indolence I shall be glad, though 
 I shall not spare you. 
 
 I have written to the Princess in a style more and 
 more as you would wish ; I expect to hear from her 
 soon. I have received a most polite letter from Sir 
 James Steuart, in answer to one which I wrote to him 
 with regard to a passage in his " Political Economy," 
 which is injurious to the Corsicans. I shall settle that 
 matter in my book, in terms very respectful to Sir 
 James. 
 
 I see 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 affectionate friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 29] Edinburgh, znd October, 1767, 
 
 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
 
 92 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 occasion me so much uneasiness ! Your letter came 
 late, night before last. It was not in my power to get 
 £-7,0 ready for last 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 
 remarks 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 read- 
 ings 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. 
 
 30] Adamtown, Kith November, 1767. 
 
 My dear Temple, — The pleasure of your counten- 
 ance, in reading the date of this letter, is before me at 
 this moment. I imagine it cannot be less than I felt
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 93 
 
 glowing in my eyes when I received the last of your 
 letters, with the elegant, and I am fully persuaded, 
 sincere commendations 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 present. You must know that Miss Blair's 
 silence, which I mentioned to you, was a silence not- 
 withstanding 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 quarrel 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 wished her joy ^ etc. ; she answered 
 me, with the same ease as ever, that I had no occasion. 
 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 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 to- 
 morrow 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 to-morrow 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
 
 94 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 my blood is warm. You shall hear fully from 
 Auchinleck. 
 
 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. Up)on 
 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. 
 
 Boswell, 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 his position towards her, now 
 determines to give up the " Scots lass," and hopes " to find an 
 Englishwoman who will be sensible of my merit, and will 
 strive [study] to please my singular humour." 
 
 31] Auchinleck, Sunday, StA November, iy6y. 
 
 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 oppor- 
 tunity, I sent her a letter, of which I enclose you a 
 copy. Could the proud Boswell say more than you
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 95 
 
 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 uneasiness, far more one whose cousin 
 and friend I shall always 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, Temple, 
 she is cunning, and sees my weakness. But I now see 
 her, and though I 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 to-morrow 
 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 that he had heard three people at 
 Ayr agree in abusing her as a jilt. What a risk have I 
 run ! However, 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 English- 
 woman 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 quarrelled 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
 
 96 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 differ- 
 ences between father and son. 1 never wrote to him 
 that I would take no pleasure in country 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 
 present 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 con- 
 versation together, and she assured 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 " Corsican 
 Journal," Please return the letters enclosed. My 
 compliments to Mrs. Temple. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 James Boswell,
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 97 
 
 32] Strathaven, 9M November, 1767. 
 
 My ever dear Temple, — Having left Auchinleck 
 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 October has overtaken me, I have opened 
 one of my letters, and add a {q.^ lines. Upon my soul, 
 the madness, of which I have a strong degree in my 
 composition, is at present so heightened by love that 1 
 am absolutely deprived of judgment. How could I 
 possibly 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 my 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 ; 1 am entirely 
 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 affec- 
 tions 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 friend, be watchful over me 
 in this precious period ! If she does not write to me she 
 is certainly unfeeUng, and I must at any price preserve 
 my own character ; if she writes as I can imagine, I will 
 consecrate myself 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
 
 98 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 Haiies 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 
 who 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 pos- 
 sible. Let it be when my account of Corsica is pub- 
 lished ; I shall then have a character which I must 
 support. I will swear, like an ancient disciple of Pytha- 
 goras, to observe silence ; I will be grave and reserved, 
 though cheerful and communicative, of what is verum 
 atque decens. One great fault of mine is talking 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. 
 
 33] Edinburgh, \6th 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 negotiations 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 returned. She did not write, but bid her
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 99 
 
 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 quarrelled; 
 I in short adored her, and was convinced she was not to 
 blame. I told her that henceforth she would entertain 
 no doubt that 1 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 therefore in a hurry and a 
 flutter, and must break off, but in a day or two I shall 
 write you fully. In the meantime, my friend, wish me 
 joy of my present peace of mind, and make my com- 
 pliments to the woman to whom I see you owe a great 
 deal. Adieu, my best friend ! 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 34] Edinburgh, z\th December, ^7^7- 
 
 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 evening 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
 
 100 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 distant as before. I 
 passed the evening at her aunt's, where I met a cousin 
 of my Princess, a young lady of Glasgow, who had 
 been with us at Adamtown. She told me she had 
 something to communicate, and she then said my be- 
 haviour 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 per- 
 suaded 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 seriously 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 answer ? " 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 Jcany Maxwell (Duchess of Gor- 
 don) better than you.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE loi 
 
 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 ? 
 
 P. — I don't know what is possible. 
 
 (By this time I had risen and placed myself by her, 
 and was in real agitation.) 
 
 B. — I'll tell you what, my dear Miss Blair, I love 
 you so much that I am very unhappy if you cannot 
 love me. I must, if possible, endeavour to forget you. 
 What would you have me do } 
 
 P. — I really don't know what you should do. 
 
 B. — It is certainly possible 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 
 Auchinleck, 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
 
 102 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 like me. If I could have you this moment for my wife, 
 I would not. 
 
 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 possible, 
 as it may happen that I may engage your affections. 
 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, 
 but I recollected how she had candidly told me that 
 she had no particular liking for me. 
 
 Temple, where am I now.? What is the meaning
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 103 
 
 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 
 patient 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 try her .'' or, 
 shall I 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 
 literally 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 Paoli, 
 with 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
 
 104 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 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 wl'l 
 not quarrel with her : she cannot help her defects : 
 but I will break my enchanting fetters. To-morrow 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.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 1768-1773 
 
 Boswell marries — Dr. yohnsori's opinion of Mrs. Boswell — 
 Uxoriana — " Account of Corsica " — Trip to Ireland — Advertises 
 his fashionable visits — Shakspeare jubilee — Resides at Edinburgh — 
 Elected a ?nember of*''' the Club " — Love affairs before his marriage 
 — The Princess again and the Nabob — Corresponds with '''■the 
 charming Dutchwoman " — Success of " account of Corsica " — Sets 
 up his chariot — Fisits from Hume and Johnson — Robertsons 
 '''■Charles /^." — '■'■La Belle Irlandaise'^ — Mental conflict — Letters 
 from the married Boswell — Hume upon history — Birth and death 
 of a son — BosweWs married life. 
 
 Another very considerable interval here occurs in the corre- 
 spondence : 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 autumn of 1769, when he married 
 Miss Margaret Montgomerie, a lady of whom frequent mention 
 is made in the following letters. It would seem that her 
 husband had good reason to be attached to her ; but it was not 
 in his nature to avoid making all who had intimate relation 
 with him more or less ridiculous. For example, in his political 
 pamphlet, the " Letter to the 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 happiness to be married to his Lordship's relation^ 
 a true Montgomerie^ whom I esteem^ whom I love^ after fifteen years^ 
 as on the day when she gave me her hand." Again, in the same 
 
 105
 
 io6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 letter to 
 Mrs. Thrale ; * but the learned lexicographer's opinion was 
 more valuable and trustworthy perhaps upon many other sub- 
 jects than when he took it upon himself to pass judgment 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 condemned. 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 comparison in favour of Boswell in its full significa- 
 tion, for there is no ground for believing that she made herself 
 either contemptible or ridiculous. 
 
 Boswell kept a book which he called " Uxoriana," in which 
 the "good things" his wife said were preserved. Some of 
 these, although at the husband's expense, were duly recorded. 
 Thus, with reference to his indiscriminate admiration of John- 
 son, she remarks, that she had often seen a bear led by a man, 
 but never before a man led by a bear. Mrs. Boswell, it would 
 seem, endeavoured by her sarcasm thus to check her husband's 
 absurd vanity, but not always without irritating him. On one 
 occasion he says, when " I was warm, telling of my own con- 
 sequence 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.' " f 
 
 There was apparently no great mutual regard between Dr. 
 Johnson and Mrs. Boswell. The reader of the Life of the 
 " big man" (as Goldsmith calls him) will remember a letter in 
 which, after narrating his safe return from his tour in Scotland 
 " without any incommodity, danger, or weariness," he tells 
 Boswell, with reference 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 biographer 
 appends to this rather surly observation on a very hospitable 
 host, is characteristic. In forming this opinion, he says, Dr. 
 
 * August 23rd, 1773. 
 
 t " Boswelliana," Philobiblion, vol. ii.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 107 
 
 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 
 departure. The truth is, that his irregular hours and uncouth 
 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 attempted to connect usefully 
 the two positions which he now claimed to occupy, — of hus- 
 band and biographer. He endeavoured in vain to persuade 
 Dr. Johnson to discourse of the duties of a husband. "Al- 
 though," 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 reli- 
 gion.' 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 Artemesias, I humbly 
 differed from him. That a woman should be sensible and well- 
 informed I allow to be a great advantage, and think that Sir 
 Thomas Overbury, in his rude versification, has very judiciously 
 pointed out that degree of intelligence which is to be desired in 
 a female companion : 
 
 *' Give me, next good, an understanding wife. 
 By nature loise, not learned by much art ; 
 Some knowledge 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." * 
 
 * "Life of Johnson," anno 1769.
 
 io8 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Boswell however managed to procure and has retailed some re- 
 marks 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 "Ac- 
 count of Corsica, with Journal of his Tour," to which reference 
 has already been made, attracted considerable 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 con- 
 versations even languished, in consequence chiefly of the obse- 
 quious court which Boswell delighted to pay to the distinguished 
 foreigner. From the same cause perhaps the Temple corre- 
 spondence also may have flagged. 
 
 Boswell, previously to his marriage, went over to Ireland, 
 attracted, it may be, by the " fair Irlandaise." Some of his 
 doings are chronicled in the T^ublic Advertiser^ and probably, 
 as suggested by Mr. Croker, with his own hand. The fashion- 
 able subscriber to that paper read on the yth 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 with 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 attending 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 SVIagavdne of September, 1769, contains an 
 amusing and characteristic " Letter from James Boswell, Esq., 
 on the Jubilee at Stratford-upon-Avon ; " also an " Account of 
 
 * See Croker's edition of Boswell's " Life of Dr. Johnson."
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 109 
 
 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 Jubilee Mask." The "Account," 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 war- 
 like appearance. On the breast of his coat was sewed a Moor's 
 head, the crest of Corsica, 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 cart- 
 ridge-pouch. He had a fusee slung across his shoulder, wore 
 no powder in his hair, but had it plaited at its full length, with 
 a knot of blue ribbons at the end of it. He had, by way of 
 staff, a very curious vine, all of one piece, with 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 Cor- 
 sican. 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, in 
 the character of a Turk, and the Corsican, on the different 
 constitution of the countries so opposite to each other,— Des- 
 potism and Liberty ; and Captain Thomson, of the navy, in 
 the character of an honest tar, kept it up very well ; he ex- 
 pressed a strong inclination to stand by the brave Islanders. 
 Mr. Boswell danced both a minuet and country-dance with a 
 very pretty Irish lady, Mrs. Sheldon, wife to Captain Sheldon 
 of the 38th Foot (Lord Blany) ; she was dressed in a genteel 
 domino, and before she danced threw off her mask. Mr. Bos- 
 well 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
 
 no LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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, which, it is thought, are well suited to 
 the occasion, while, at the same time, they preserved the true 
 Corsican character." 
 
 It would 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, and we 
 do not hear much of him, either in his correspondence with 
 Mr. Temple or as Dr. Johnson's biographer. In a letter to the 
 latter, dated Edinburgh, 1771, he says : "Although I am con- 
 scious 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. " I 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 charming con- 
 versation of Lady de Beauclerk could not entirely dissipate. In 
 a short time I received the agreeable 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 acquaintance ; Dr. 
 Nugent, Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. (afterwards Sir 
 William) Jones, and the company with whom I had dined (at
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE iii 
 
 Mr. Beauclerk's). Upon my entrance Johnson placed himselr 
 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."* 
 
 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] Edinburgh, ^ih February, 1768. 
 
 My dear Friend, — All is over between Miss Blair 
 and me. I have delayed writing till I could give you 
 some final account. About a fortnight after she went 
 to the country, a report went that she was going to be 
 married to Sir Alexander Gilmour, member of Parlia- 
 ment 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 
 
 O 
 
 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 believe 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 I got Sir Alexander Gilmour to frank a 
 
 * See "Life of Johnson," anno 1773. It is said by Mr. Croker, 
 on the authority of Mr. Milman, who examined the records of the 
 Club with special view of ascertaining the frequency of the visits of 
 both 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 visiting London.
 
 112 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 letter to her, which 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. Fullarton, 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 first 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 woman ! " T began to like the 
 Nabob much ; so I said to him, " I do believe, Mr. 
 Fullarton, you and I are in the same situation here ; 
 is it possible to be upon honour, and generous, 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 declared he was con- 
 vinced 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 observation on the wary 
 mother. " What 1 " said he, " did Temple say so ? 
 If he had lived twenty years in the country with them, 
 he could not have said a better thing." I then told 
 him Dempster's humorous saying, that all Miss B.'s 
 connections were in an absolute confederacy to lay hold
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 113 
 
 of every man who has a thousand a year, and how I 
 called their system a salmon-fishing. " You have hit 
 it," said he ; " we're all kept in play ; but I am positive 
 you are the fish, and Sir Alexander 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 professed the greatest pleasure on 
 being acquainted with 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," 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 I 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. 
 
 H
 
 114 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Before dinner the Nabob and I met, and he told me 
 that he went, and in the most serious and submissive 
 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 Princess, 
 who certainly is a lucky woman to have had a sovereign 
 sway over so many admirers. I have endeavoured 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 Sawney. 
 
 " She told me, with a scornful look, 
 I was as ugly as a tawny ; 
 For she a better fish could hook. 
 
 The rich and gallant knight. Sir Sawney." 
 
 N.B. I can find no more rhymes to Sawney. 
 
 Now that all is over, I see many faults in her 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 cannot 
 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 I assure you I am very easy and 
 cheerful. I am however resolved to look out for a good
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 115 
 
 wire, 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 before 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 ever attend you and her. 
 
 I am, 
 Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 Feb. I \th. — 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 a Howard, or 
 some other of the noblest in the kingdom. 
 
 The " Scots lass " being dethroned, the " charming Dutch- 
 woman " of Utrecht is set up in her stead. 
 
 36] London, z\th March, 1768. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I received, on yesterday, your 
 letter, wanting ^15, and this morning I got the enclosed 
 bank-bill. I heartily sympathise 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 I am rid of her. She has now shown, what I 
 always suspected, that she had no other view but just 
 convenience and interest. Do you know, my charming
 
 ii6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 I do not see how I can be un- 
 happy with her. Sir John Pringle is now for it ; and 
 this night I write to my father, begging his permission 
 to go over to Utrecht just now. She very properly 
 writes, we should meet without any engagement, and 
 if we like an union for life, good and well ; if not, 
 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 translates 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 Wy vill 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, iSth April, 1768. 
 
 My dearest Friend, — 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 117 
 
 in matrimonial concerns without your approbation ; 
 however, I cannot help thinking both my father and my 
 friend too severe. Zelide may have had faults, but is 
 she always to have them ? may not time have altered 
 her for the better, as it has altered me ? But vou 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 evening 
 with him. Wy vill 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 \x.} I 
 would ask you to come to London, but I wish to see 
 you at your own table with your 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 married. 
 What would you think of the fine, healthy, young, 
 amiable Miss Dick, with whom you dined so agreeably ? 
 Would not the worthy Knight call out a homily } She 
 wants only a good fortune. 
 
 * The evidence which he 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.
 
 ii8 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 38] London, zdth Apru, 1768. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Your moral lecture 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 the friend of Paoli. My warm 
 imagination looks forward with great complacency 
 on the sobriety, the healthfulness, and the worth of 
 my future life. 
 
 But 1 have not yet given up with Zelide. 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 prejudice 
 will be removed." The letter is in English ; I have 
 sent it to my father, and have earnestly begged his 
 permission to go and see her. I promised, upon honour, 
 not to engage myself, but only to bring a faithful 
 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 
 perplexity ; I have put in the plainest light what con- 
 duct I absolutely require of her, and what my father 
 will require. I have bid her be my wife at present, and 
 comfort me with a letter, in which 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 
 letters I am sure you will be better disposed towards
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 119 
 
 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 with me often, just on 
 account 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 acquired such a character as will 
 entitle you to any fortune. 
 
 You cannot imagine how happy I am at your appro- 
 bation of my book. Look back, my dearest friend, 
 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 yours, 
 
 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 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 up 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, wire-hunting, a little 
 gambling, and some practice in the law at Edinburgh, interfered 
 perhaps at this time with his pursuit of Dr. Johnson. 
 
 39] London, 1 4//^ M^j, 1768. 
 
 My dear Temple, — When one is confined, as I 
 am, he has a great avidity for the letters of a friend, so
 
 120 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 that I was uneasy at not hearing again from you so 
 soon as I expected ; but I received a kind letter yester- 
 day, 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 my 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 candid, fair, and conscientious, I told her of many 
 difficulties : 1 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, something 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, 1 
 was then afraid that my father, out of his great indul- 
 gence, might have consented to my going to Utrecht ; 
 but I send you his answer, which is admirable, if you 
 make allowance for his imagination that I am not duti- 
 ful 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 firm- 
 ness. I was eager for the Guards, I was eager for
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 121 
 
 Mademoiselle ; but you have happily restrained me 
 from both. Since then, I have experienced your 
 superior judgment in the two important 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 thunder," cries one ; 
 *' The quick lightning I," cries another, *' et voila notre 
 manager But she and I will always be good corre- 
 spondents. 
 
 I forget what I wrote you about somebody having 
 talked of my " placing " the Corsicans, etc. Who was 
 it .? and how is he wrong } This is to try if I can 
 balance 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 
 to-day; 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 Meadows are just setting out for Corsica, 
 and I have the honour of introducing them by a 
 letter to the General. David Hume came on pur- 
 pose, the other day, to tell me that the Duke of 
 Bedford was very fond of my book, and had recom- 
 mended it to the Duchess. David is really amiable :
 
 122 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 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 IL I 
 wish he may not mire himself in the 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, I shall be moral for the future. 
 When I hear from you again, 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 Mr. Gray.* You are wrong in being positive against 
 Miss Dick, but of this when we meet. Return me the 
 enclosed letters. Present my best compliments 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 
 Boswell'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 
 reminiscences of Gray, by the Rev. N. Nicholls, is as follows : 
 " When Boswell published his ' Account 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 Mitford. Pickering. 1843.)
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 123 
 
 40] AUCHINLECK, 2:\.ik JugUSt, 1 768. 
 
 My dear Temple, — You have good reason to 
 accuse me of neglect in being silent so long. My 
 apology, I fear, is not sufficient ; 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 was 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 1 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 con- 
 tinued ; 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 bankruptcy 
 of Mr. Fenwick Stow really afflicted me ; you have a 
 noble spirit, not to be cast down by so many mis- 
 fortunes. Are you in any immediate want of money ? 
 If you are, I will send you all that I can command. 
 Do you remember how generous you was to me when 
 I wanted to purchase a commission in the Guards } I 
 hope Mrs. Temple is in a good way ; let me know
 
 124 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 particularly about her. I am exceedingly 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 belle Irlandaise* Figure to yourself, 
 Temple, a young lady just sixteen, formed like a 
 Grecian nymph, with the sweetest countenance, full of 
 sensibility, accomplished, with a Dublin education, 
 arways half the year in the north of Ireland, her father 
 a counsellor-at-law, with an estate of ^looo a year, 
 and above ^10,000 in ready money; her mother a 
 sensible, well-bred woman ; she the darling 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 charming Mary Anne. 
 Upon my honour, I never was so much in love; I never 
 was before in a situation to which there was not some 
 objection, but here every flower is united, and not a 
 thorn to be found. But how shall 1 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 Ireland, and I promised to be there in 
 
 * "Ztf belie Irlandaise" is here called Mary Anne. The name of 
 the lady who ultimately became Mrs. Boswell was Margaret. She 
 belonged to the family of the Montgomeries of Lainshawe. Mrs. 
 Boswell certainly had Irish connections ; but, although she answers 
 in some respects to the description here given of la belle Irlandaise, 
 the two cannot safely be identified.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 125 
 
 March. In the meantime both the father and the aunt 
 write to me. What a fortunate fellow am I ! what a 
 variety of adventures in all countries ! I was allowed 
 
 to walk a great deal with Miss ; I repeated my 
 
 fervent passion 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 pertinax. 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 
 inconstancy ; 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 con- 
 duct, as with Miss B. No 1 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 ; 
 I am fixed beyond a possibility of doubt as to her. 
 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-
 
 126 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 course with Mrs. ; in short, Maria has me with- 
 out any rival. I do hope the period of my perfect 
 felicity, as far as this state can aftord, 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 
 i8's, and twenty 9-pounders, with one hundred and 
 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 generous 
 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.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 127 
 
 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 even- 
 tually that he remains quite constant to her. Still he does not 
 quite know what to do, though sure that he is himself the 
 " candid, generous Boswell." 
 
 As might be expected, Boswell's attempts to live like the 
 friend of Paoli, 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 
 usual want of self-control. 
 
 41] Edinburgh, (^th December y 1768. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I delay not a post to tell you 
 that I have received your letter of the 27th November, 
 and that 1 sincerely sympathise with the gloomy feel- 
 ings which at present seem to distress you. Your long 
 silence really 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 Temple, I cannot be without 
 you. 
 
 I trust that before this reaches you the clouds will 
 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 _^ 1,300, is no 
 inconsiderable fund. Your living is, I believe, £^0 a 
 year, which, with what you have clear after paying 
 your father's annuity, may enable you to live very com- 
 fortably. Be not too anxious on account of your chil-
 
 128 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 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 solemn 
 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 
 Scottish 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 family : 
 it was a sudden wish while your mind was unhinged. 
 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 be- 
 seech you. Temple, not to fix your desires on external 
 greatness. Recollect how you and I flattered ourselves 
 that we were to be the greatest men of our time. 
 
 "Rectius vives, Licini, neque ahum 
 Semper urgendo." 
 
 Do you know that in reality your uneasiness is owing to 
 your allowing yourself to think too much of those who 
 have 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 129 
 
 an opening. Keep up your 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 Miss Blair still ! Her marriage with the 
 Knight is not to be. I understand that when terms came 
 to be considered, neither answered the expectations 
 which they had formed of each other's circumstances, 
 and so the match was broken off. 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 1 had any serious intentions ; that in the 
 meantime the Knight offered, and what could she do } 
 Temple, to a man again in love, this was engaging. I 
 walked whole hours with the Princess ; I kneeled ; I 
 became truly amorous, but she told me that " 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 who 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 affected 
 
 * A heavy charge against Mr. Boswell, which nevertheless, as has 
 been seen, was probably too true. 
 
 I
 
 130 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 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 be- 
 haviour, do I, the candid, generous Boswell, owe her 
 anything ? Am I anyhow bound by passionate exclama- 
 tions 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 epistle. 
 
 Adieu, my dearest friend ! My kind compliments to 
 Mrs. Temple. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 James Bosv^^ell. 
 
 P.S. — I am just now a good deal in debt. If you 
 want any credit from me, let me know some weeks be- 
 fore. Excuse this. Whatever I can do, you may always 
 depend on. 
 
 Postscript. 
 
 My dear Temple. — You are by this time well ac- 
 quainted with my present 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 return 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 131 
 
 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 favourite to 
 keep me happy ? but alas ! I love her so much that I 
 am in a kind of fever. T/iis is unworthy of PaoWs 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 Bosw^ell upon 
 this subject : " In a man v^^hom religious education has secured 
 from licentious indulgence, the passion of love, when once it 
 has seized him, is exceedingly strong, being unimpaired by dis- 
 sipation, 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] Edinburgh, ytkMay, 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 I wrote to 
 you the 3rd of April, containing a full account of Mr,
 
 132 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 Chud- 
 leigh, 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 would begin with England, 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, Guicciardini, 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 your 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 seu ratio dederit^ seu sors objecerit^ 
 ilia contentus vivat, so strongly exemplified 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 your brother has been so lucky. I shall be 
 disappointed if I do not see you here this summer or 
 autumn ; but your objections till July is over are, I
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 133 
 
 confess, unanswerable. I believe August will be the 
 same sort of season in my family. My best compli- 
 ments 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. 
 
 43] Edinburgh, K^thjune^ ^11^- 
 
 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 Plistory as a prospectus or plan of the 
 work. I got it yesterday, and now send it to you, as 
 you are at present so much in the historical humour, 
 and will relish anything of that kind as much as a line 
 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 substantial. 
 The first advantage, which I have marked on page 5, 
 really puts history in a new light. Do you know any 
 good definition of history .'' The idea which I have been 
 accustomed to entertain of it is, an account of the poli- 
 tical and mihtary transactions of a nation or nations, 
 containing the characters of the principal persons who 
 have contributed to the several operations, interspersed 
 with various reflections. My meaning is clumsily ex- 
 pressed, 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 " His- 
 tory of Commerce." The language of this history will 
 not, as far as I think, be so flowing and elegant as that
 
 134 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 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 inti- 
 mate 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 different 
 classes of readers. I met him to-day, 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, very 
 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 
 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.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 135 
 
 A^l Edinburgh, 6ik September, 1770. 
 
 My dear Friend, — Yours of the 4th instant came 
 to my hands yesterday. 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 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 engage 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 a child a number of most agreeable 
 hopes ; and therefore when he is bereft of his child he 
 is deprived 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 Dalrymple. He told me that 
 Fergusson (Civil Society) used to maintain, that till a 
 child was four years old it was no better than a cabbage. 
 However, Fergusson married and had a child, which 
 died soon after it was born : the firm philosopher 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 com- 
 panion ; you shall have him with us at my house. 
 He tells him there is a " History of the Barbarous 
 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 cannot 
 undertake to read it himself, but he is very desirous to 
 know what is in it. I have undertaken to read it, and
 
 136 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 I shall do it with great pleasure. If the Indian Prince 
 writes of the horrible transactions of the Spaniards 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 Chessel'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 Mr. 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. 
 
 46] Edinburgh, 6//5 October, 1770. 
 
 My dear 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.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 137 
 
 1 rejoice that you got so well to Gainslaw. I was 
 afraid you might find the journey very fatiguing, but 
 you water-drinkers are Herculean fellows. I believe 
 it would be better for me, were I to adopt your 
 system ; 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 I am fully 
 sensible of my happiness in being married to so excel- 
 lent 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 
 tenderly 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 preserve 
 her! 
 
 Honest Johnston is very ill, and desires to be 
 kindly remembered to you ; he is very often with me ; 
 I always find him a worthy, 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-
 
 138 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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. 
 
 *M. M, M, ^ M. 
 
 Tl* TP ^ TT *«■ 
 
 My brother John took a ride this summer as far as 
 the Land's End; he was at Chudleigh^ no less. But so 
 strange a man is he, that, upon hearing that it was a 
 cross-road to Mamhead, or some such small difficulty, 
 he did not pay you a visit, though he knew that I 
 wished it much, and I believe wished it himself; for 
 be has a good deal of kindness under that curious 
 appearance 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. Li 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 part 
 of the Highlands and isles with me this autumn, but 
 I had a letter from him, some posts ago, telling me
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 139 
 
 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 formed 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. 
 
 It has been observed, that Boswell's marriage and residence 
 in Edinburgh caused a suspension of his industry, even in the 
 pursuit of his correspondence w^ith Dr. Johnson.* However 
 in 1772, when he reappeared in London, he recommenced 
 collecting material for the magnum opus^ and the next year had 
 the inexpressible joy of accompanying his revered friend on his 
 visit to the Hebrides, the Journal of which, incorporated by 
 Mr. Croker into the Biography, forms perhaps one of its most 
 interesting portions. 
 
 * See " Life of Johnson," anno 1770 (chap, xxiv., Croker's edit.).
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 1774-1775 
 
 Letter to Mrs. Temple — Advice to her as a wife — Bosweii s 
 journey to London — Superstition and feud alisfn — Lord Lisburne — 
 Inconvenience to a chaplain in breakfasting — Success in making 
 acquaintance — The American question — Talking from books — 
 Langton Garrick — Tetnples essay on the clergy — Boswell's hope of 
 place — Lord Pembroke — A speculation on the patriarchs — Boswell's 
 moral fences — Temples character of Gray adopted by Mason — 
 London Magazine — Boswell in election case — Dinners and pleasures 
 in town — Richard Owen Cambridge — Hermes Harris. 
 
 At this period we find Boswell differing from his father 
 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 Metropolis. 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 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. John- 
 son. The passage in question appeared in Vol. 41 of the 
 Magazine (March, 1772), and the editor (or Boswell) introduces 
 the criticism as written " by a gentleman of Cambridge, of 
 much learning, who knew him (Gray) well." Mr. Mason 
 
 140
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 141 
 
 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 suspected 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 himself, 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 
 that not superficially, but thoroughly. He knew every branch 
 of history, both natural and civil ; had read all the original 
 historians of England, France, and Italy, and was a great 
 antiquarian ; criticism, metaphysics, moral politics, made a 
 principal part of his study ; voyages and travels of all sorts 
 were his favourite amusements ; and he had a fine taste in 
 painting fruits, architecture, and gilding. With such a fund 
 of knowledge his conversation must have been equally instruct- 
 ing and entertaining ; but he was also a good man, a man of 
 virtue and humanity. There is no character without some 
 speck, some imperfection ; 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 dis- 
 gusted 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 without 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 
 
 * Edit. 1775, p. 401. In the superb edition by Mr. Mathias (18 14) 
 Mr, Temple's name is affixed to this passage.
 
 142 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 employed ; to him- 
 self certainly beneficially. His time passed agreeably ; he was 
 every day making some new acquaintance in science ; his mind 
 was enlarged, his heart softened, his virtue strengthened ; the 
 world and mankind were shown to him without a mask, and he 
 was taught to consider everything as trifling and unworthy 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. 
 
 47] Edinburgh, ^ist December, 1774. 
 
 Dear Madam, — I return you my thanks for your 
 kind letter, and be assured that it gives me sincere 
 comfort and satisfaction 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 circumstance 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, 
 though 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 143 
 
 Mamhead next spring. Take good care of my old and 
 most intimate friend, and be always good-humoured 
 when he complains. 
 
 I am, dear Madam, 
 
 Your affectionate humble servant, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 48] Edinburgh, yd Jatiuary, 1775. 
 
 My dearest Friend, — The enclosed to Mrs. 
 Temple should have been sent last night, but was 
 omitted in the hurry 1 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 disturbed with abstract doubts } 
 
 Adieu ! ever yours, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 49] Grantham, \%tk March, 1775. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Your letter of the ist Feb- 
 ruary 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. John- 
 son's "Journey" with judgment 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 
 
 * This 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 
 experience for it."
 
 144 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 valuable. The first pleases my superstition, which you 
 know is not small, and being not of the gloomy, but 
 the grand species, is an enjoyment ; 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 splendid 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 : 1 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 
 I would breakfast with him to-morrow, if not incon- 
 venient for him : his answer is just come, which 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 to-morrow at two o'clock. What can 
 be the meaning of this "^ How can breakfasting be 
 inconvenient to a family that dines ? Can he wish to 
 lie long in the morning, that Queen Mab may be 
 with him, "tickling the parson as he lies asleep.^" 
 or can his wife and daughter not dress early enough } 
 Pray guess in your next, with 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 145 
 
 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 1 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 fire 
 though itself is soon extinguished. I called on Mrs. 
 CoUingwood 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 
 the subject : it is too much for me perhaps, or I am 
 too indolent or frivolous. From the smattering which 
 newspapers have given me, 1 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 
 puzzled 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. 1 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
 
 146 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 ; yon 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 them. You are very kind iri 
 saying that I may overtake you in learning. Believe 
 me though, that I have a kind of impotency of study : 
 however, nil desperandum est. I have not yet fixed 
 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 Edinburgh 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 our- 
 selves, as plain as downright Skipper [Shippen] 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 sure you 
 have learning and good sense and an elegant style : 
 let me know what you think of writing. For 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 different 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- 
 
 * "An Essay on the Clergy, their Studies, Recreations," &c. 
 London, 1774.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 147 
 
 Ing the company which 1 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 in 
 Scotland, and has corresponded with me since. I have 
 hopes from him. How happy should I be to get an 
 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. 
 
 ^ ^ tF tP w 'w 
 
 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. 
 
 Co] London, ^th Jprh, 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 passion would blow them down ; when
 
 148 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 at Grantham, there was a pretty brisk gale, which 
 shook them, but now Reason, that steady builder and 
 overseer, has set them firm ; or they have proved to be 
 better than I thought them, for my enclosures are in 
 as good order as ever. I thank you 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 turbulent 
 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, when I read your elegant letter 
 upon Mr. Johnson's Journey, and other subjects : I am 
 prouder to-day. 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 anony- 
 mous writer. What is it, think you, but a character 
 of Gray written by you to me in a letter soon after his 
 death, and which I greatly admired, and copied out 
 for the Magazine, of which I am a proprietor ^. It 
 appears to great advantage as the peroration of Mason's 
 " Life of 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 149 
 
 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 Erskine, 
 brother to Miss Floyer's husband, as counsel for him 
 in the Clackmannan election, where he is petitioner : 
 I had neither wig nor gown with me. I posted to 
 Claxton's early this morning, and he 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. To-day I dine at Sir John Pringle's ; to-morrow 
 
 * Sic in orig.
 
 150 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 at Dilly's, with Mr. Johnson and Langton, etc. ; 
 Thursday, 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 Journey, but I wish I may be able to settle to it. 
 This House of Commons work will be good ballast 
 for me. I am little 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 except exhibitions of pictures with Lord Mount- 
 stuart ; 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 
 some time between the loth and 26th of this month ; 
 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. 
 Archibald Campbell, M.P., London." 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 51] London, 17//^ y^/inV, 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 multiplicity. Be not afraid of me, 
 except when I take too much claret ; and then indeed
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 151 
 
 there is di furor brevis^ as dangerous as anger. I in- 
 tended to have set out for Wilton to-morrow ; 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 Hermes Harris. f " ' Do you think so ? ' 
 said he. ''Most certainly^ said ly Do you remember 
 how I used to laugh at his style when we were in the 
 Temple ? He thinks himself an ancient Greek from 
 these little peculiarities, as the imitators of Shak- 
 speare, whom the Spectator mentions, thought they 
 had done wonderfully when they had produced a line 
 similar : 
 
 " And so good morrow to ye, good Master Lieutenant ! " 
 
 * 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 banks 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 literary fame various, elegant, and still in- 
 creasing ; colloquial talents 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 entitle 
 him to be addressed fortunate senex, I know not to whom in any 
 age that expression could with propriety have been used." — " Life 
 of Johnson," anno 1782. 
 
 t Spoken of generally in the " Life of Johnson " as Mr. Harris of 
 Salisbury, or James Harris, Esq., father of the first Earl of Salisbury. 
 Dr. Johnson, in reference to his work " Hermes," calls him a " cox- 
 comb." — See "Life of Johnson" (November 3, 1773), where Boswell 
 depreciates while he appears to defend Mr. Harris. In another 
 passage (April 7, 1770) Johnson is made to say, "Harris is a sound, 
 sullen scholar ; he does not like interlopers. Harris, however, is a 
 prig, and a bad prig." He seems, however, to have conversed with 
 Mr. Harris tolerably complacently on several occasions ; but their 
 friend Boswell has left, as in other cases, no very pleasant impression 
 as to either the worth of Mr. Harris or the charitableness of Dr. 
 Johnson.
 
 152 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 am pars magna^ for my exuberant spirits* 
 will not let me listen enough. On Wednesday General 
 Paoli and I shall be at Wilton ; I should suppose we 
 may stay there till Saturday. I shall take the fly at 
 Salisbury, and so get to Exeter. Write to me at Wil- 
 ton, 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 Cliff^ord. 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 aflPectionately, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 * " I am, for the most part, either too high strung or too low." 
 February, 1777 (Philobiblion, vol, ii.). In the same paper is 
 another remark of Boswell's, which perhaps may not be misapplied 
 here : " A dull fool was nothing that he should show himself; the 
 great thing is to have your fool well furnished with animal spirits, 
 and he will supply to you a rich fund of risibility," Boswell adds, 
 that he gave expression to this wisdom " at a certain Court in 
 Germany P
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 1775 
 
 Dr. 'Johnson repr esses the publication of the " Tour to the Hebrides** 
 — Preferment for Temple — Mr. Thrale — Beauclerk's elegant 
 villa^ i^c. — A days work — Dr. Johnson — Wilkes — 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 — Paoli's kindness — 
 The state and dignity of a coach — Professional practice — Anecdote 
 of Mr. Hume — Courtiers and courtesans — Hume on Pitt — The 
 American War — BosweWs ambition for 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 amus- 
 ing enough, but on the instance in question, probably 
 true. The association of Boswell with Dr. Johnson, per- 
 sonal 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 
 Temple, is a curious proposition ; but Boswell was very 
 anxious to publish his journal, while Dr. Johnson was 
 content that his own work should not be interfered 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. 
 
 153
 
 154 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 52] London, lotkMay, 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 1 have almost ever 
 seen you do. There is more of the yvuJBi cnavTov 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. 
 
 1 breakfasted with his Lordship of Lisburne yester- 
 day : 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 
 advantageous settlement indeed. My Lord's chief 
 expectations 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 
 have less in Devonshire, as that you may continue at 
 Mamhead, than a much better living 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 tourhillon 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 155 
 
 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. 
 Between ourselves^ he is not apt to encourage one 
 to share reputation with himself. 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 
 disappointed. Dr. Johnson does not like the book ; 
 he 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. Claxton 
 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 
 Saturday, 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. 
 
 * See ante, p. 185.
 
 156 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 53] Streatham, \']th May, iJJ^. 
 
 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 Streatham, a delightful spot. Dr. Johnson is 
 here too. I came yesterday to dinner, and this morning 
 Dr. Johnson and I return to London ; and I go with 
 Mr. Beauclerk to see his elegant villa and library, 
 worth ^^3000, at Muswell Hill, near Highgate, and 
 return and dine with him. I hope Dr. Johnson 
 will dine with us. I am in that dissipated state of 
 mind that 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 cultivate that mutual regard which, as it has lasted 
 till now, will, 1 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. 1 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 breakfasted 
 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 delightful, just at
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 157 
 
 Highgate. He has one of the most numerous and 
 splendid private libraries that I ever saw ; green-houses, 
 hot-houses, observatory, laboratory for chemical experi- 
 ments, 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. 
 1 am ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 I 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, zind 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 chambermaid 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 Muratori ; 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 fretful 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
 
 158 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 Rockingham made him 
 Solicitor-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. 1 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 were served. We talked with unre- 
 served freedom, as we had nothing to fear ; we were 
 -philosophical^ 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 v/ith 
 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 1 am now 
 so sleepy that I can scarcely keep my eyes from 
 closing. Tell Mrs. Temple that I am a favourite with 
 her because she knows me better, and that she may 
 be assured that the more she knows me the more
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 159 
 
 allowance will she make for my faults. God bless 
 and preserve you, my 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. 
 Remember 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, irdjune, 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 distillers will extract a spirit from 
 substances in themselves disagreeable enough. I visited 
 my brother John near Newcastle, and found him pretty 
 much in the same state as when I saw 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. Tlie unpleasing 
 tone, the rude familiarity, the barren conversation of
 
 i6o LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 those whom I found here, in comparison with what I 
 had left, really hurt my feelings. The excellent Laird 
 of Grange happened 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 facto something low and coarse 
 in such employment, though on paper it is a Court 
 of 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 
 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, John 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 to-day, 
 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE i6i 
 
 respectfully remembered to Lord and Lady L. I 
 never received Lord L.'s letter. 
 
 Ever most faithfully yours, 
 
 , JB. 
 
 There is a strange notion expressed in the following letter 
 by the writer, that he had earned the hospitality General Paoli 
 extended to him, and which he so excessively enjoyed. 
 
 56] Edinburgh, 6(^ June, 1775. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Believe me, your excellent 
 letter of the 27th of iVIay, which I received last night, 
 after my coming home fatigued after seeing a review, was 
 exceedingly refreshing 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 ought to be superfluous. General Paoli told me 
 lately that his brother was ill ; he consulted physicians 
 in London, and informed him of what they said ; but 
 he never once put in words that he was sorry or affec- 
 tionately concerned, for he thought that would be quite 
 unnecessary. He was so obliging as to apply this re- 
 mark to me : "I need not tell you," said he, *' that 
 everything in my power 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 Gerrard Street were taken by a gentle- 
 man 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 apartment, and the convenience and 
 state of a coach ; I recollected that this dignity in London
 
 i62 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 was honourably acquired by my travels abroad, and 
 my pen after I came home, so I could enjoy it with 
 my own approbation ; and in the extent and multi- 
 plicity of the Metropolis, other people had not even 
 the materials for finding fault, as my situation was not 
 particularly known. 
 
 Thus far I have written, when 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 
 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 to-day. His 
 wife is very homely indeed ; he and Sir i^lexander 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] Edinburgh, igt^ June, 1775. 
 
 My dear Temple, — This summer I hope shall be 
 much more fertile than usual in letters between you 
 and me. Our late comfortable 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 again by recollecting that I am 
 Temple's most intimate friend ; that Temple, who 
 knows me perfectly, thinks of me as I know you do. 
 No doubt the practice of the law here is sometimes 
 irksome to me, but it is often a kind of amusement ; 
 
 * Referring probably to their proposed publication.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 163 
 
 I have to consider and illustrate quicquid agunt 
 homines ; I have to treat of characters, of the history 
 of families, of trade and manufactures, as contracts 
 concerning them are the foundations of many lawsuits; 
 in short, the variety of subjects of which fragments 
 pass through my mind, as a pleader, engages my atten- 
 tion ; and, as upon most occasions, I become warmly 
 desirous of my client's success. There is the agitation 
 of contest, and sometimes, 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 endeavour 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 ; he said he himself did not like to con- 
 tinue the History of England further down, because 
 we have not yet had access to papers sufficient to let 
 us know, with authenticity, the state of affairs ; and it 
 was disagreeable to write history which afterwards 
 might be proved not to be true. He spoke highly of 
 the " Histoire Philosophique et Politique," and 1 won- 
 dered to find him excuse very easily the author of that 
 book, for translating long passages from English writers 
 without quoting them, but just ingrafting the passages 
 into his text. He said there are about fifteen pages 
 translated from his History, but he complained of one 
 mistake. He has mentioned that the clergy carried 
 their claim of tithes to so strange an excess that they 
 insisted to have a tenth of the gain of courtesans ; the 
 Frenchman, mistaking courtesans for courtisans (cour- 
 tiers) in his own language, makes the tenth to be of
 
 i64 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 the gains de ceux qui avaient des emplois a la Cour, 
 This, said David very justly, takes the salt from the 
 observation. He says Abbe Raynal cannot have 
 written that book himself; the eloquence must have 
 been borrowed. He is, said he, a dull man in conver- 
 sation ; 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'Angleterre " is very 
 ill written. He says, when he was at Paris, Abb6 
 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 Septch^nes, 
 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. Buffbn. 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. 
 Robertson, an elegant supper, three sores 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 London. 
 
 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 Colonies, 
 which 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 165 
 
 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 T 
 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 
 right to tax at all clear. He says there will in all 
 probability 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 
 consequence in the State is much like some of your 
 ambitious 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 
 I calmly determined to be at him ; so I repeated, by 
 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 
 
 * The passage of Temple's letter which 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 your pious^ but your 
 »zor^/ 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," 2lst March, 1778.)
 
 i66 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 American, I said, No, it was from an English gentle- 
 man. "Would a gentleman write so?" said he. In 
 short, Davy was finely punished * ior his treatment or 
 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 
 enfamille, 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- 
 formly, and yet how different are they ! how different 
 was James the Second from Charles the Second 1 " 
 
 1 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 Mr. Wyvill's. He and his daughter, and our 
 friend and his wife, and Sir Alexander and Miss Dick 
 dined with us here ; and last night Dr. Wyvill 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 to-day. 
 
 I enclose you a copy of my letter to Mason, to- 
 gether with his answer, which I received this afternoon. 
 
 * 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 me " is thoroughly Boswellian.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 167 
 
 I certainly wrote to him with sufficient civility ; yet 
 his answer is, I think, very dry and ill-humoured. 
 Worthy Grange, who was with me, said he must be 
 a surly child. Observe with what arrogance he talks 
 of his strictures on your character of Gray ; when I 
 published it, I did not know that he was preparing 
 memoirs : 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. Still I have not begun 
 to read ; but my resolution is lively, and I trust I shall 
 have it in my power soon to give you an account of 
 my studies : all that I can say for myself at present is, 
 that I attend, along with John Swinton and others, a 
 course of lectures and experiments by Dr. Black, Pro- 
 fessor of Chemistry, — a study which Dr. Johnson 
 recommends 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 £^0 — as I got forty- 
 two guineas in London — does not affect him. How 
 hard it is that I am totally excluded from parental 
 comfort ! I have a mind to go to Auchinleck next 
 autumn, and try what living in a mixed stupidity of 
 
 * Referring to Dr. Johnson, the " auld Dominie."
 
 i68 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 1775 
 
 Hypochondria — Proposed publication of Mr. Temple's letters to 
 Boswell — Lord Hailes' annals of Scotland — Lord Lisburne — 
 Capability Brown — Edmund Burke — BosweWs pedigree — Allow- 
 ance by his father — American War — Conjugal society — BosweWs 
 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 happiness. 
 
 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 correspondence. The intention of publishing them 
 as "Letters to James Boswell," seems to have been subse- 
 quently abandoned. 
 
 The disgust which poor Boswell experienced, and in his 
 letters frequently expresses, on account of the appreciation 
 which Lord Auchinleck both felt and exhibited for his son — so 
 ludicrously different to that of the son himself, and " a wonder- 
 ful number of mankind " besides — is again reiterated. 
 
 58] Edinburgh, izth August, iy7S- 
 
 My dearest Friend, — Again there has been a sad 
 interval in our correspondence, but do not blame me. 
 I have had a pretty severe return this summer of that 
 melancholy, or hypochondria, which is inherent in my 
 constitution, and from which I have suffered miserably 
 in former years, though since my marriage I have been 
 
 169
 
 170 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 wonderfully free from it. Your languor and discontent 
 are occasioned 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 i^i2\ 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 solemn 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 1 did not get 
 drunk. I was however intoxicated, and very ill next 
 day. I ask your forgiveness, and I shall be more 
 strictly cautious for the future. The drunken manners 
 of this country are very bad. 
 
 I am exceedingly pleased with the Sketches which you 
 have sent me.* Your assuming, or rather appearing 
 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 
 
 * Probably " Historical and Political Memoirs."
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 171 
 
 is necessary to introduce the letters, or rather to account 
 for their being written, than our long friendship, great 
 distance, and the effects of a literary correspondence on 
 us both, which you well describe when you talk of my 
 being engaged in the pursuits of a virtuous 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 
 emendations by Dr. Johnson. Sir David is to publish 
 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 publish 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 the 
 work. I told Lord Hailes you were Lord Lisburne's 
 clergyman : he said my Lord was his intimate friend. 
 Pray talk to Lord L. of him, and at the same time
 
 172 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 present my best respects to his Lordship and Lady 
 Lisburne. 
 
 You are certainly right, that none are so happy as 
 they appear to be. You tell me that Lord L., with his 
 large estates, fine place, fine wife, seat at the Admiralty 
 Board, elegant table, etc. etc., is not happy. I believe 
 it, for I can trust to your opinion ; yet I cannot 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 Clifford's happiness, with his noble park ^ But, 
 by the bye. Sir Joshua Reynolds told me that Capability 
 Brown's compliment, of nature being lewd, is what he 
 pays upon many occasions. What say you to Lord 
 Clifford's family pride, his vivacity, the varieties which 
 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 {qqI* But 
 it is absurd to hope for continual happiness in this life ; 
 few men, if any, enjoy it. I have a kind of belief that 
 
 * There are frequent repetitions of this sentiment ; and we may 
 accept his own evidence to show that Boswell was not impressed 
 with the beauties or picturesque 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.' 'Johnson : ' You are right, 
 Sir.'" (July 30, 1763.) Again, "As we walked to St. Clement's 
 Church, I again remarked, that Fleet Street was the most cheerful 
 scene in the world. ' Fleet Street,' said he, ' is in my mind more 
 delightful than Tempe.'" (April 17, 1778.)
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 173 
 
 Edmund Burke does : he has so much knowledge, so 
 much animation, and the consciousness 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 would authenticate a 
 pedigree of our family for my brother David. He 
 writes, " The pedigree 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 rejoice 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, 1 think I should be much better. That 
 however seems to be impossible. As he is bound for 
 ;^iooo which I owe, he has resolved to lessen his 
 allowance 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 treatises 
 on Midwifery, as I was engaged in a cause concern- 
 ing 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-
 
 174 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 lation of the " Lusiad " of Camoens by Mr. Mickle, a 
 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 being. 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 admirable 
 conipanion for a man of my atrabilious temperament, 
 for she has a good store of common sense and cheerful- 
 ness. 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 consent 
 of their Assemblies ; I think our Ministry are mad in 
 undertaking this desperate war. Let us write oftener ; 
 your correspondence is a great comfort to m.e. My 
 sincerest compliments to Mrs. Temple and love to the 
 children. 
 
 Ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 J. B.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 175 
 
 59] AucHiNLECK, 2fid 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. To- 
 morrow 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 sensibility to support existence in the 
 family where I now am. My father, whom I really 
 both respect and affectionate (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 feel myself like a timid boy^ which 
 to Boswell (comprehending all that my character does in 
 my own- imagination and in that of a wonderful number 
 of mankind) is intolerable. His wife too, whom in my 
 conscience I cannot condemn for any capital bad quality, 
 is so narrow-minded, and, 1 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
 
 176 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 improved ; it is really princely. I perceive some dawn- 
 ings 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 
 incommode 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 
 daughters, 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 unhappy is it for a 
 man to have 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 failing : 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- 
 ceeding. I shall now know whether trade has destroyed 
 his liberal spirit. This is quite a 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, \oth October, '775' 
 
 My dear Temple, — I am really uneasy that I have 
 been so long of hearing from you. I wrote to you in 
 August, I think, from this place, and in September
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 177 
 
 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 object 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. Temple. I am hurried, and cannot expatiate 
 on this happy event ; I hope you will find time to do it 
 with your 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 Boswell. 
 
 61] Edinburgh, \6th October, 1775. 
 
 My dearest Friend, — By the very return of the 
 post I can make you easy with respect to an appre- 
 hension 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. 1 confess I did intend to 
 have written 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 1 feel myself in rights and, 
 
 M
 
 178 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 in my views at least, near the present hord Advocate^ I 
 should certainly 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 loth, 
 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. 
 
 For 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 Edge- 
 cumbe, but let me know your faults ; I will endeavour 
 to understand them. I will force a taste for rural 
 beauties. I know Mr. Jerningham's pleasing poetry ; 
 1 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 Boswell in the capacity of travelling 
 reporter ; for he writes to Mrs. Thrale, asking her how
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 179 
 
 Bos well'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. Johnson had travelled over the same 
 ground in his own work, which must nevertheless be pro- 
 nounced far less interesting than that of his companion. 
 
 62] Edinburgh, 6th 'November, lyyS- 
 
 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 best living in the Diocese of 
 Exeter^ and the present incumbent eighty-six ! with 
 such a prospect can you be dispirited .'' If you attain 
 to such a reality, will you have the assurance to com- 
 plain any more ^ I most heartily rejoice at this great 
 good fortune. Your removal to Ireland had something 
 dreary in it ; Old England is your clime, and Devon- 
 shire has chiefly the sun and summer gale. We shall 
 meet once a year ; we shall be often in London to- 
 gether. We may visit some part of the Continent, 
 which, by the bye, Dr. Johnson has done lately, with 
 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 heaiix esprits, 
 how would he stun them by one of his violent explo- 
 sions .? I have seen the preface to his Dictionary, 
 translated by Diderot ; and when Madame de Boufllers 
 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, I always was sure that they would do
 
 i8o LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 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 publication, any passages which 
 you do not choose at present to own. I shall be 
 impatient to receive some more of your manuscript. 
 
 My wife is recovered remarkably welh 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 pro- 
 fession 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 myself 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-
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE i8i 
 
 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 family 
 passes a day, and tell me if you would not wish to 
 live so.* 
 
 Lord 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 affectionately yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 * Unfortunately Mr. Temple's explanation of this propounded 
 puzzle, although very necessary, is not presented to us.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 1776 
 
 Afrs. Rudd^ her trial and treachery — Bosweil seeks her acquaint- 
 ance — At Bath with Dr. Johnson and the Thrales—The yew-tree 
 vow not kept — Habits of drinking — Mrs. Rudd Boswellised — Pure 
 friendship for Mrs. Stuart — The Devonshire family. 
 
 Boswell's making the acquaintance of Mrs. Rudd, 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 exclaim : 
 
 *' How much, methinks, 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 Bosweil, who had success- 
 fully aspired to her acquaintance. He observes, in a memo- 
 randum 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, 
 and irresistible power of fascination. To a lady who dis- 
 approved of my visiting her he said, on a former occasion, 
 *Nay, Madam, Bosweil is in the right; I should have visited 
 her myself, were it not that they have now a trick of putting 
 everything into the newspapers.' This evening he exclaimed, 
 ' I envy him his acquaintance with Mrs. Rudd.'" 
 
 Who Mrs. Rudd was will be best seen in the Newgate 
 Calendar. A sufficient account, however, of the trial of her 
 
 * " Henry VIII.," Act iii. scene 2. 
 182
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 183 
 
 confederates in crime and of herself, and of her attempt to save 
 herself by turning King's evidence 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 Apprehending 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 w^ere guilty at all. 
 
 Mrs. Rudd used to pass as Mrs. Daniel Perreau ; and 
 although there is considerable obscurity as to the part which 
 the Perreaus played in the frauds perpetrated by forging and 
 uttering bonds in the name of William 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. Mrs. Rudd was 
 acquitted, and was, as we are told, and 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. Drummond (the 
 bankers), was discovered to be a forgery. The magistrate 
 admitted her, with somewhat 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 evidence ; that she has already given evidence, and is 
 further 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 deb'itojustitiee^ to quit her ; if she had not such a legal right, 
 but yet came under circumstances sufficient to warrant the 
 
 * See Cowper's Reports, p. 331.
 
 184 
 
 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Court in saying that she had sucn a title of recommendation 
 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 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 degree falls 
 within the reason of them. A bond is detected to have been 
 forged ; three persons are apprehended on suspicion — the two 
 Perreaus, and the prisoner (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 truth^ 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 liable 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 injured, 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 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. Drummond's, in the first instance ; for 
 when they doubted the genuineness of the signature of the 
 bond, purporting to be that of Mr. Adair, Robert Perreau sent 
 immediately for Mrs. Rudd to explain the matter, as it was 
 she who had handed the bond to him originally, and she there- 
 upon admitted her forgery. Lord Mansfield resolved on the
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 185 
 
 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 much 
 firmness in her defence : " she avowed her innocence inexplicit 
 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: 
 you are honest men, and I am safe in your hands.' " A note 
 to Cowper's Reports gives us the information that the jury 
 brought 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 undeserved 
 interest in her fate ; and it was said as Boswell 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 now- 
 adays ; but she was notorious^ 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 referred 
 to, were probably made in some of his contradictory moods, for
 
 1 86 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 they hardly accord with the morality which he so sternly pro- 
 fessed and practised. Notwithstanding the contempt which we 
 ought to feel for people who flociced, according to a fashionable 
 whim, 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 extraordinary success in 
 inducing characteristic conversation, 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 Sessions Papers 
 of the Old Bailey (May, 1775), but the case was so remarkable 
 that several publications relating 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, Circum- 
 stances in Life, and the means by which they brought Ruin, 
 Infamy, and Misery upon themselves : the whole compiled 
 from authentic records, communicated to the Editor by a 
 person well known in the literary world." This person "well 
 known in the literary 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. 
 
 One of the worst features in the woman's history is the cruel 
 letter which she wrote, after her own acquittal and before the 
 execution of the Perreaus, to Lord Weymouth, urging statements 
 incriminating her late confederate Robert Perreau, and endea- 
 vouring thus to cut him off from even the slight hope of a 
 pardon. This letter, it is said, was dictated by a noble 
 Worcestershire 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 Johnson ; " indeed 
 Boswell made good use of his opportunities, during the year 
 1776, for the purpose of his biography. He was also, it will 
 be observed, now practising his reporting powers upon General
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 187 
 
 PaoH, 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 endeavouring 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 became 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." 
 
 63] Bath, Sunday, z'ith 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 visible objects ; I can only paint 
 
 the varieties of mind, of T 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 diligaunce, 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 neglected it, and perhaps I should still have 
 
 put it oflF 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. 
 
 To-morrow he and I are to visit Bristol, and be back 
 
 at night. I shall stay one day more here, and get
 
 1 88 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 I must go to Scotland. 
 My two jaunts this year from London have not left 
 me time to be with you at Mamhead, which, upon my 
 honour, I regret ; for you may be sure that it is the 
 truest happiness to me to enjoy the conversation of my 
 most intimate friend, 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 
 competition 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 should 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 
 that as fast as infidel wasps or venomous insects, 
 
 * As to what was the proposed publication here referred to, see 
 pp. 194, 198.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 189 
 
 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. // 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. 
 I was sending an account of this to my wife, but as 
 it appeared to me highly entertaining, I thought 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 Lisburne a tasting of it— if that be English. 
 Compliments 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. 
 
 64] London, \st 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
 
 190 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 
 General 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, whose attention to me 
 is beautiful. I am going to sup with Lord Mount- 
 stuart, my Maecenas. You know how I delight in 
 patronage. My 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 ribbon of any colour." Perhaps the adventure with 
 Mrs. Rudd is very foolish, notwithstanding Dr. John- 
 son's approbation : judge, then, if you should mention 
 it to Lord L. : is he not to be here .? 
 
 Direc: to the care of Messrs. Dilly. T shall be 
 impatient till I get back Mrs. Rudd. Strahan and 
 Cadell may perhaps be the best treaters for such 
 volumes as you mention ; be assured of my attentive 
 exertion about them. My heart is vexed that we do 
 not meet this season.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 191 
 
 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 observed I was like Charles 
 Fox. Colonel J. Stuart said, with 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 retort /ess was meant than met the ear.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 1776-1779 
 
 Interval in the correspondence — Temple's circumstances — Dr.yohnson 
 confirms Boswell in his Toryism — A young widow — Louth — Sir 
 Alexander Dido's Georgic — Dr. Armstrong's description of Gibbon — 
 Temple' sbook and character criticised — Letter from a friend to Temple. 
 
 The next few years were, happily, 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 oppor- 
 tunities 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 little. 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 I was confined to 
 bed, and my 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 
 
 192
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 193 
 
 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, — 
 ;^6ooo fund, and only ;^i200 debt, so you have ^^4800 
 clear; i.e.^ at 5 per cent., £2^0 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 northern 
 jaunt ; for it would be sad indeed, if I were disappointed 
 in meeting you this year, after so long a separation. 
 You and 1 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 curious that at 
 times we are in so happy a frame that not 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.* 
 
 * A somewhat ambiguous prayer, but doubtless it is to a blaze of 
 joy the writer was aspiring.
 
 194 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 shocks the Revolution, be 
 forgotten. 
 
 I know not if Lord Haile's second volume 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 
 delivered to his old housekeeper. He asked me if it 
 had merit ; I said it had learning and elegance of 
 expression, and a great deal about liberty, which he 
 would like, but which I did not like.* He said he 
 would read it, which is a compliment he does not 
 
 * Mr. Boswell here seems to forget a certain cap of his, with the 
 inscription " Paoli and Liberty." What the book above referred to 
 is, is not certain : but probably it was either the " Selection of His- 
 torical and Political Memoirs," or the " Historical Essay on the 
 Abuse of Unrestrained Power," which was published in 1778. 
 There were also certain " Essays, Moral and Literary " (8vo, Dilly) 
 published in 1 777, 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 
 observations upon his correspondent'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 
 familiar to the readers of Boswell's " Letters," as " an agreeable col- 
 lection of ingenious, concise essays, on a great variety of useful 
 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 
 schools 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 with praise 
 in the Gentleman's Magazine, December, 1777.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 195 
 
 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. 
 
 \st May, \'J1% SouTHiLL, Bedfordshire. 
 
 I began this letter at the literary head-quarters in 
 the Poultry : I am now at Southill, to which place 
 Mr. Charles Dilly 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. 
 
 I am quite the great man here, and am to go 
 forward on the North road tomorrow morning. 
 Poor Mr. Edward Dilly is fast a-dying ; he cried 
 with affection 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 bliss," or some 
 such words. I am edified here. 
 
 Newcastle-upon-Tyne, %th 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 having something about me that interests most 
 people at first sight in my favour ? I am to rest here 
 till Monday, when I hope to get home to my wife and
 
 196 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 Lowth 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 
 curious 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 197 
 
 Strahan, who, as poor Garrick said, was an obtuse many 
 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 
 opinion of what his friend exhibited to him as poetry, 
 but which he knew not to come under that species of 
 composition. 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 temperamentis^ for which 
 you must have made collections." Here he made a 
 fine transition to Sir Alexander's skill in physic, not 
 acknowledging, however, in his friend what he states 
 in his poem on health, — 
 
 " One power of physic, melody, and song." 
 
 The Bishop of London is in a scrape. I doubt if 
 he will se tirer d' affaire as cleverly as Armstrong did. 
 
 " I laugh to think how your unshaken Cato 
 Will 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 ?.ny 
 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 
 ugl)\ affected^ disgusting fellow^ and poisons our literary
 
 198 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Club to me. I did not know Monboddo's new book, 
 " The Metaphysics of the Ancients," had been ad- 
 vertised. I expect it will be found to be a very 
 wonderful performance. I think I gathered from a 
 conversation with him, that he believes the " Metem- 
 psychosis." Voltaire ! Rousseau ! I don't hear of 
 new editions of them. 
 
 Your gentle reproof for not answering your letters 
 exactly, I feel to be very just. I think Dr. Johnson 
 never answered but three of my 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 speculations more than I 
 do ;t neither of us is fit for that sort of mental labour. 
 Mind your health, your temper, your fortune, your 
 wife 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. 
 
 * 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. 
 
 t See ante, p. 194, note.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 199 
 
 We should cultivate the excellent principle of submis- 
 sion for the Lord's sake. .... * 
 
 The following letter, which although not from Boswell'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 character. 
 
 From a Friend to Mr. Temple. 
 
 At the Earl of Findlater's, Cullen House, Scotland, 
 
 yd 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, what- 
 ever ruggedness, or even brutality 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, 
 
 * The rest of the letter is missing ; but, judging from the com- 
 mencement of this passage preserved here, the loss need not render 
 the reader inconsolable.
 
 200 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 at his own house, Dr. Robertson. It is impossible to 
 judge properly of a nervous man, who talks broad 
 Scotch, from such an interview, especially as I must 
 confess I took a little prejudice againt 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 f ass 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 mitiga- 
 tion of laws, dictated by bigotry against the Catholics, 
 he, I am told, distinguished 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 deluded 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 
 description follows, which may be omitted : he refers 
 also to Mr. Henry (Lord) Kaime'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 an infinite variety of knowledge which he 
 produces in a flighty manner, entirely unlike the dull 
 prose of most of his countrymen.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 201 
 
 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 pleasure 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.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 1780-1781 
 
 'Journey to Edinburgh — Dean Smith — Mr. Falconer — Stay at 
 Chester — Lord Monboddo's Metaphysics — BoswelPs position and 
 difficulties — Bishop Hurd — Happiness and knowledge — David 
 Boswell — His character — Speculations on human misery and 
 personal prospects — Nicholas M^Laurin — Story of an ordination 
 in the last century — Archbishop Drummond — Dr. Boswell. 
 
 66] Edinburgh, 4M January, 1780. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Again an unaccountable cessation 
 of our correspondence ! but it would be foolish to 
 employ a single sentence 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 
 lived a great deal. At the Mess of Colonel Stuart's 
 regiment 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 fortune 
 to be known to the Bishop, who is one of the most 
 distinguished prelates for piety and eloquence, and one 
 
 202
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 203 
 
 of the most pleasing men in social life, that you can 
 imagine. His palace was open to me, morning, 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 studying 
 under Mr. John Stevenson. I was surprised 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 knowledge, who is preparing a new 
 edition 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 Journal, 
 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- 
 where. The young ladies there were delightful, 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
 
 204 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 little at Greek. Lord Mon- 
 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- 
 riority. But we both want solidity and force of 
 mind, such 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 I have advanced between seven and 
 eight hundred pounds for them, which I have bor- 
 rowed at five per cent. A demand is now made upon 
 
 * Essays published in the London Magazine under this title, and 
 which have been referred to elsewhere in enumerating Boswell's 
 works.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 205 
 
 me which I must answer in February ; and 1 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 
 confidence, 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. 
 
 SjI Auchinleck, ^rd September, 1780. 
 
 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 ; 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 indolence 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 may find
 
 2o6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 lyour 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 comtemplation of the heights of learn- 
 ing to which one may attain, I view my own inferiority, 
 and think how much many others, and amongst them 
 you, Temple, are above me. Yet on the other hand, 
 when I consider what vexations you suffer, from which 
 I am free, I am inclined 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 advanc- 
 ing far into literature, would you advise me to do it ? 
 I am glad that you had two agreeable interviews 
 with Hurd ; but I do not understand that you dined 
 with him. Should not a Bishop be given to hospitality } 
 I hope to see your journal that you kept ; you shall see 
 all my volumes when you come to Scotland. Let us 
 resolve that, if God is pleased to allow us life and 
 health, we shall without fail have a meeting in London 
 next Spring. I am sorry that, like myself, you have 
 not the art of economy, so as to be laying up some- 
 thing 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 
 
 * Alas ! three-quarters of a century since this was written, the 
 search for Mr. Temple's publications [with the exception of the 
 " Essay on the Clergy "] at the British Museum has proved vain. 
 [A set may be seen in the University Library at Cambridge,]
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 207 
 
 fortune was diminished by his generosity to his father, 
 offered to let me have a loan of ;^iooo to purchase 
 a Commission in the Guards. Oh, my friend ! let 
 there never be the least reserve or possibility of mis- 
 understanding between us. And now good night ! 
 
 4//^ September. — I am just got up, and offered up my 
 prayers to God, and read a chapter of the New Testa- 
 ment ; I resume my letter to you. Drowsiness has 
 hung heavy upon me last night, when I was willing 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 know- 
 ledge 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 acquisitions. And 
 men of sound and vigorous minds have high satisfac- 
 tion 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 ex- 
 perience of the pleasure of knowledge from what I do 
 know. What must be the pleasure of some men, 
 whose enlarged minds and retentive memories possess 
 large extensive funds of various knowledge, 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 3rd 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 im- 
 perfect 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.
 
 2o8 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 My brother arrived at Edinburgh on the I2th 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 
 London, and is now settling himself there as a merchant 
 and banker. He is a sensible, intelligent, accurate 
 man, very formal and very prudent ; in short, as 
 different 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 amusements will 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 
 concerns. 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 my 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 
 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
 
 EiH/run-d hij Y. Holl, fvom ii sl.-ctrh hi/ 
 Sir Tuos. Lawrknci;, P.K.A.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 209 
 
 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 enjoy 
 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 ^^looo 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 
 place, I am conscious of having behaved to himself 
 and his lady with such respectful attention and 
 imposed such a restraint upon myself, as is truly 
 meritorious. 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 than their grandfather does. We are all to dine 
 at my father's to-day : he is better now than he has 
 been for several years.
 
 210 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 ad- 
 visable. Yet, my dear Temple, ambition to be in 
 Parliament, or in the Metropolis, is very allowable. 
 Perhaps my exalted notions of public situation are 
 fallacious ; 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, 
 improving, and beautifying Auchinleck ; and that I may 
 do all that to more advantage by having a smaller 
 income 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 
 present ? What are you writing ^ I must again and 
 again renew my wish for the publication 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 211 
 
 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'll 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 
 argued on the impropriety of the story, the matter 
 would have been made worse, while they were two to 
 one. Now, my dear friend, I do not believe, in the first 
 place, that the Archbishop would be so shamefully 
 unfaithful to his awful trust. If he had been so, it 
 was dishonourable 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. I shall never receive him 
 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 postchaise 
 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 all gone. And, do you know,
 
 212 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 our being better. It is shocking 
 to think that a new Parliament is returned, which will 
 be as subservient to Ministry as the last. I agree with 
 you sincerely, my friend, that it would be better to 
 be a Lord of Session, with an unblemished character, 
 than a Peer and Lord Chief Justice by such means as 
 these promotions have been attained. 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 Mcecenas 
 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 extraordinary 
 good spirits till yesterday. I am afraid a fit of hypo- 
 chondria is come, and that it may last some time. 
 
 * 
 
 * 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 misery," and denounces his " affectation of distress." However, 
 it is by no means improbable, as has been mentioned [in the 
 original Introduction], though Dr. Johnson refused to credit it, 
 that, if not constitutionally disposed to hypochondria, yet after 
 drinking and excessive excitement Boswell was subject to great 
 depression, which, as was natural to him, he paraded as an im- 
 portant constitutional phenomenon, and elevated tc the dignity of 
 hypochondria.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 213 
 
 Pray let me hear from you oftener. My best com- 
 pliments 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.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 1781-1789 
 
 Interval in correspondence — Death of BosweWs father — Boswell in 
 difficulties — Death of Dr. Johnson — " Tour to the Hebrides " — 
 Boswell comes to London — Borrows rnoney — A companion and 
 governess in 1788 — Christ^ s Hospital — ^^ Life of Johnson" — Dis- 
 sipation and despondency — Illness of BosweWs wife — Takes a house 
 in Queen Anne Street West — ISlo prospect at Westminster Hall — 
 M.alone's assistance — Archbishops s dinner to Judges and Counsel — 
 Becomes candidate for his county. 
 
 From the 3rd of September 1780, to the fifth of January 1787, 
 no further letters have been preserved. During this interval 
 several important events affecting Mr. Bosvi^ell occurred. One 
 of these was the death of his father, in the year 1782. Upon 
 this occasion it was that, writing to Boswell, Dr. Johnson made 
 the distinction between a kind and fond father. " Kindness, 
 at least actual, is in our power, but fondness is not ; and if by 
 negligence or imprudence you had extinguished his fondness, 
 he could not at will rekindle it. Nothing then remained 
 between you but mutual forgiveness of each other's faults, 
 and mutual desire of each other's 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, not- 
 withstanding 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 
 
 214
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 215 
 
 exercised. The very following year (1785) his first experiment 
 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 per- 
 manent association 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 
 English 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 pro- 
 posed to enter into a contest for the representation of " his 
 County." He did not, however, succeed in gaining the object 
 of his ambition. 
 
 68] London, i,tk January, 1787. 
 
 My dear Temple, — By what channel I know not, 
 farther than the penny-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 acquainted with 
 my amiable godson. Perhaps I should now be thankful ; 
 yet when my mind is firm, as it is at present, I feel a 
 solid confidence in the Divine wisdom, 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 assured of the unceasing and warm 
 regard of your truly affectionate 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 * See Letter, /w/, p. 304; January loth, 1789.
 
 2i6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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, z\th February, 1788. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I was yesterday enabled, by 
 your friendship, to keep my credit entire, in a place 
 where any suspicion against it is very fatal. David 
 will send you my note, which is all the security that is 
 necessary in such a transaction. You need be under 
 no sort of apprehension as to the sudden demand of 
 the ;^63o; for though the Will should be set aside 
 (which I do not fear) it must be by a tedious suit in 
 Chancery ; and you may depend upon your advance to 
 me being repaid long before you could have occasion 
 for the money in that event. 
 
 As to your niece, it is very natural for you to 
 imagine that what you affectionately and laudably wish 
 is practicable, nay easy. But in a calm conversation 
 with Miss Palmer, with whom I went to breakfast, on 
 purpose to talk with her on the subject, I found that 
 to get your niece into the situation of a companion and 
 governess is precisely the most difficult thing that can 
 be figured. Sir Joshua, who was by, and has always 
 good sense and observation, lent a word, and said, " a 
 companion must be one whom one chooses from one's 
 own knowledge. Nobody says to another. Get me a 
 companion." Then, said Miss Palmer, so many 
 accomplishments are necessary in a governess, that 
 probably this young woman would not answer ; and 
 were she to take the mode which is frequently tried, of 
 getting into a boarding-school as what is called a half- 
 boarder, to become qualified as a teacher, she probably 
 might not find an elegible situation ; because, except
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 217 
 
 in some of the very great families, a governess is treated 
 little better than a common servant. You see then, my 
 friend, how a scheme, which you and I, in the warmth 
 of simplicity (which I think will for ever mark our 
 characters,) might think could be realised speedily, is 
 in fact almost hopeless. My wife told me that a lady 
 of pretty good fortune here, who is her relation and 
 mine, told her that she sent her daughter to a boarding- 
 school, because she could not afford to keep a second 
 table for a governess, and she could not bear to have 
 governess sit at table with her husband and her. In 
 Scotland I know they are better treated, and perhaps in 
 the country in England. However it appears to me 
 that what you wish for your niece can be attained only 
 in the North, where her connections are, and where her 
 accent would not be an objection, as it certainly would 
 be here ; or, by your taking her for some time into 
 your own family, and by degrees getting her recom- 
 mended to some agreeable situation in the West, 
 through your means. 
 
 As to your nephew, whom you wish to get into 
 Christ's Hospital, honest David (who, at the same time 
 that he is accurate and strict as to his own rights and 
 his own agreements, is truly active in serving his 
 friends) has already brought me a list of the Governors, 
 so many of whom, marked with asterisks, have a right 
 (about once in two years) to present a boy, not a son 
 of a freeman of London ; and amongst them I find 
 Alderman Clark, who was a friend of Dr. Johnson's, to 
 whom I shall apply ; and our friend Mr. Wilkes, to 
 whom both you and I may apply. But what I really 
 think will be the most probable means of attaining to 
 what I find is an object of much competition, is for you 
 to get Mr. and Mrs. Gwathen [Gwatkin] to interest Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds to ask it of Alderman Boydell, the
 
 2i8 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 great printseller and patron of artists, who, either 
 himself, or by means of some other Governor, may 
 get it done. As I have too often seen how appli- 
 cations are civilly received, but without effect. Sir 
 Joshua must be prevailed on to urge it — to make a 
 point of it. 
 
 I have not yet had a message from Mr. Railton, 
 though he took down my address, and promised we 
 should meet when he had looked over the letters and 
 papers on Mr. Forster's affairs. If he and I differ as 
 to the right to the ^£250 legacy, I really think that the 
 opinion of an experienced counsel should be taken, but 
 without letting it be known ; and if it be for your 
 sister, let her stand a suit. If not, let her trust to the 
 generosity of the creditors. 
 
 So much for business. Does it not strike you how 
 frequent our letters are when that is the case, compared 
 with those periods when we have only friendly recipro- 
 cation and literary correspondence } — a proof how man 
 is intended for solid realities, more than the more 
 pleasing and more amiable objects of the heart and the 
 fancy ; yet surely intellectual business may be con- 
 sidered to be as real as anything whatever. 
 
 Mason's Life of Gray is excellent, because it is 
 interspersed with letters which show us the man. His 
 Life of Whitehead is not a life at all, for there is 
 neither a letter nor a saying from first to last. I am 
 absolutely certain that my mode of biography, which 
 gives not only a History of Johnson's visible progress 
 through the world, and of his publications, but a 
 view of his mind in his letters and conversations, is 
 the most perfect that can be conceived, and will be 
 more of a Life than any work that has ever yet 
 appeared. 
 
 I have been wretchedly dissipated, so that I have not
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 219 
 
 written a line for a fortnight ; but today I resume my 
 pen, and shall labour vigorously. I am now in strong, 
 steady spirits, which make me confident, instead of 
 being in despondency. Oh, my friend, what can be 
 the reason of such depression as we often suffer ? I 
 am very, very uneasy, on account of the state of my 
 affairs. When you come we will consult. Now I 
 charge you to be determined in coming instantly after 
 Easter. Hurd does not [publish i'] his Life of 
 Warburton, though it is written, but * 
 
 Adieu, my dear friend. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 My wife is, I thank God, much better ; but is it 
 not cruel to keep her in this pernicious air, when she 
 might be so much better at Auchinleck .'' But come, 
 come, come ! Upon my honour, if it be possible that 
 you disappoint me another year, I shall believe you 
 immersed in money-making. Oh, my friend ! let us 
 have some more comfortable hours in our own old 
 way. On Saturday Sir Joshua, Miss Palmer, 
 Mr. Malone, Mr. Langton, dined with us ; Courtenay 
 was taken ill and could not come, though engaged. 
 
 70] London, \oth January, 1789. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Another sad interruption of 
 our correspondence, without any sufficient reason. 
 Soon after receiving your last, long, kind letter, I 
 recovered my spirits pretty well, I know not how. A 
 letter from my wife, recommending me to take a house 
 in a well-aired situation, determined me not to sell my 
 
 * The rest of the letter is illegible.
 
 220 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 furniture ; as my doing so, after what she wrote, might 
 appear like discouraging her from coming to me, 
 which, though I could hardly hope, would have made 
 me very happy. It is incredible what difficulty I found, 
 in several weeks' wandering, to find a house that would 
 answer ; and at last I fixed on one at £s^i i^ Queen 
 Anne Street West, Cavendish Square, very small but 
 neat. It however would not accommodate the whole 
 of my family, with even tolerable conveniency, but 
 would serve as a sort of camp-lodging till better could 
 be had. In winter, the upholsterers and brokers take 
 numbers of houses and furnish them with old trash, 
 and by letting them furnished get great profits. This 
 makes it very difficult to get choice of unfurnished 
 houses at that season. I am in a most illegal situation, 
 and for appearance should have cheap chambers in the 
 Temple, as to which I am still inquiring. But in truth 
 I am sadly discouraged by having no practice, nor 
 probable prospect of it ; and to confess fairly to you, 
 my friend, I am afraid that, were I to be tried, I should 
 be found so deficient in the forms, the quirks and the 
 quiddities^ which early habit acquires, that I should 
 expose myself. Yet the delusion of Westminster 
 Hall, of brilliant reputation and splendid fortune as a 
 barrister, still weighs upon my imagination. I must 
 be seen in the Courts, and must hope for some happy 
 openings in causes of importance. The Chancellor, as 
 you observe, has not done as I expected ; but why did 
 I expect it .? I am going to put him to the test. 
 Could I be satisfied with being Baron of Auchinleck, 
 with a good income for a gentleman in Scotland I 
 might, no doubt, be independent. But what can be 
 done to deaden the ambition which has ever raged in 
 my veins like a fever.? In the country, I should sink 
 into wretched gloom, or at best into listless dullness
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 221 
 
 and sordid abstraction. Perhaps a time may come 
 when I may by lapse of time be grown fit for it. As 
 yet I really, from a philosophical spirit^ allow myself 
 to be driven along the tide of life with a good 
 deal of caution, not to be much hurt ; and still 
 flattering myself that an unexpected lucky chance 
 may at last place me so, that the prediction of a 
 fortunate cap appearing on my head at my birth will 
 be fulfilled. 
 
 My two boys are still in the house with me. The 
 eldest is advancing both in Latin and Greek exceedingly 
 well, by the assistance of one of the ushers of the Soho 
 Academy ; and the other goes on in Latin with him 
 during this hard weather, but next week I am to send 
 him again to that academy. I am sensible that it is 
 a great disadvantage to them to be under my roof, as I 
 am so much abroad ; and then they must be with my 
 Scotch housekeeper and footman, whom I yet retain on 
 account of their fidelity and moderate wages^ but I am 
 afraid to send my eldest to a public school with his 
 rupture ; the younger I shall send to one when he is a 
 year older. 
 
 I am now very near my rough draught of Johnson's 
 Life. On Saturday I finished the Introduction and 
 Dedication to Sir Joshua, both of which had appeared 
 very difficult to be accomplished. I am confident they 
 are well done. Whenever I have completed the rough 
 draught, by which I mean the work without nice 
 correction, Malone and I are to prepare one-half per- 
 fectly, and then it goes to press, where I hope to have 
 it early in February, so as to be out by the end of 
 May. I do not believe that Malone's Shakespeare will 
 be much before me : his brother. Lord Sunderlin, with 
 his Lady and two sisters, came home from a long tour 
 on the Continent in summer last, and took a country-
 
 222 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 house about twenty miles from town, for six months. 
 Malone lived with them, and so his labour was much 
 intermitted. 
 
 I am very sorry to find that it is the most difficult 
 thing you can imagine, to get a boy, not the son of a 
 citizen, into Christ's Hospital. Miss Palmer, whom I 
 have solicited, cannot do it ; and I am sure I have not 
 a tenth part of that kind of interest which is required. 
 You must think of something else for your nephew, 
 and pray do not blame me if I recommend aiming at 
 humble situations. It is impossible, in the nature of 
 society, that every branch of every creditable family 
 can have that preference to others from generation to 
 generation. 
 
 As to the Archbishop of York I had a letter to him 
 from Dr. Ball, one of his particular friends. He asked 
 me to a private dinner ; but a number of company 
 came, and 1 had very little of his conversation, for he 
 does not show away in talk at his table upon a Sunday. 
 I was at the dinner which he gives in form to the 
 Judges and Counsel on the Northern Circuit, and a 
 splendid dinner it was ; indeed his table is princely. 
 In the evening, departing, he whispered to me, " Don't 
 go, there's a bed for you." So I and Mr. Law, King's 
 Counsel, whose brother is married to his Lordship's 
 eldest daughter, stayed. His Lordship took me to walk 
 with him through his delightful Seat and was quite easy : 
 his conversation turned chiefly on British antiquities, 
 in which he seemed to be deeply versed ; and he said a 
 good deal of Scotland, a considerable part of which he 
 had seen some years ago. There is nothing of the 
 pedagogue or the high-priest in his domestic behaviour : 
 he is all affability, and even playfulness with his 
 children. I believe I should leave a card at his door 
 in town ; I will do it.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 223 
 
 As to my canvass in my own county, I started in 
 opposition to a junction between Lord Eglintoun and 
 Sir Adam Fergusson, who were violent opponents, and 
 whose coalition is as odious there, as the Great One 
 is to the nation. A few friends and real independent 
 gentlemen early declared for me ; three other noble 
 lords, the Earls of Cassillis, Glencairn, and Dumfries, 
 have lately joined and set up a nephew of the Earl of 
 Cassillis. A Mr. John Whitefoord, who as yet stands 
 as I do, will, I understand, make a bargain with this 
 last alliance. Supposing he does, the two great parties 
 will be so poised that I shall have it in my power to 
 cast the balance. If they are so piqued that either will 
 rather give the seat to me than be beaten by the other, 
 I may have it. Thus I stand, and I shall be firm. 
 Should Lord Lonsdale give me a seat he would do well, 
 but I have no claim upon him for it. 
 
 General Paoli's steady kindness is indeed highly to 
 be valued. 
 
 I have said nothing about the Regency, because you 
 have it all in the newspapers. (Pray, which do you 
 read }) Do you know I was at first carried away with 
 the notion of the right having devolved to the Prince, 
 and had almost written one of my very warm popular 
 pamphlets for it ; * but Lord Lonsdale having been 
 taken ill with a feverish disorder, from which he is not 
 yet quite free, so that I have not yet seen him for five 
 weeks, so as to know his sentiments, I prudently re- 
 frained, and have become satisfied that T was wrong ; 
 for there is a King, though his faculties be suspended. 
 Pitt has behaved very ill in his neglect of me. I now 
 think Dundas a sad fellow in his private capacity ; he 
 has used honest David cruelly. I breakfasted today 
 
 * Referring probably to the two political " Letters to the People 
 of Scotland " which had appeared five or six years before.
 
 224 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 with Hawkins ; he is, I believe, a good man, but mean 
 for a man of his fortune. We depend on your coming 
 to London in April or May ; it will be impossible to 
 bear another disappointment. Write soon to your 
 ever affectionate 
 
 James Boswell.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 1789 
 
 Illness of Mrs. Boswell— Society of the Northern Circuit — 
 Boswell '' roasted " — " Quare Adhasit Pavimento f " — Hawkins 
 — Dr. Parr — Collects and publishes IVarburtons juvenile works 
 — Hurd — Public affairs — Pitt\ ill-usage of Boswell — His wife — 
 Barthelemfs " Voyage en Grece " — Moeurs des Grecs — Story of 
 an apparition — Courtenay — Sir fohn Hawkins — fealousy of 
 Dr. Johnson's biographers — Mrs. BoswelVs illness increases — 
 Dundas — Pitis ''^ folly " — Disappointment of Boswell — Boswell 
 meditates an attack upon Pitt. 
 
 Boswell, it would seem, was now " hovering" about the legal 
 quarters, not with great hopes of business, but in some expecta- 
 tion of a place which, as a barrister, he might hold. What 
 were Boswell's feelings at Mr. Pitt's " unwise " conduct, in 
 neglecting to meet Boswell's wishes, will be seen in the following 
 letter. 
 
 Legal society, it is clear, had no great charm for Boswell. 
 His was just the character which laid him open to Circuit satire, 
 and the unsparing jocularity of the Bar mess. It is said, by 
 those experienced in the subject, that when the members of 
 some Circuits unbend in conviviality, and " mirth and jollity " 
 take the place of grave argument and subtle advocacy, an unini- 
 tiated spectator would think that he had fallen into the society 
 of collegians or even of schoolboys in disguise, and he would see 
 the weaknesses and peculiarities of the different members treated 
 with all the wit and freedom which are claimed to be exercised 
 by the youthful and scholastic public. What were the particular 
 points in the Circuit life of the last century which Boswell found 
 so disagreeable to his feelings it would be impossible to inquire; 
 
 225 p
 
 226 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 but doubtless the conceited, vain,* or presumptuous member 
 would have found small sympathy there ; and if such a one 
 aspired to a position amongst his brethren of the Mess, v^^hich 
 he could not successfully maintain, he vi^ould probably have to 
 submit to mortifying joke and banter. One may also conclude 
 perhaps, that deference to mere reputation and veneration for 
 the adherent of fine society were never leading attributes of the 
 Circuit Bar in their social hours. From whatever causes it may 
 have arisen, Boswell at all events, on several occasions, expressed 
 no great liking for the conduct of his professional brethren ; 
 and his entering himself at the English Bar contributed less to 
 his pleasure and profit than even his Scotch practice. 
 
 The failing health of his wife, and his labours at his magnum 
 opusy occupy for some time much of Boswell's anxious thoughts. 
 
 71] London, \6th February, 1789. 
 
 My dear Temple, — 1 am longing much to hear 
 from you. My wife has had a return of her asthmatic 
 fever, but it has not continued so long, or with such 
 alarming symptoms, as it did when it seized her the 
 three last winters ; but still you may imagine that I 
 am not easy^ being at this distance from her, and her 
 state of health so uncertain. My eldest son advances 
 exceedingly well both in Latin and Greek, under the 
 private tuition of one of the ushers of the Soho 
 Academy, to which my youngest now goes. I am 
 resolved to send him, when he is twelve, either to Eton 
 or Westminster. When you come we shall confer as 
 to that question. My book is now very near the con- 
 clusion of the rough draft. I hesitate as to going the 
 Spring Northern Circuit, which costs £^0^ and obliges 
 me to be in rough, unpleasant company four weeks.f 
 
 * " Bumptious " is a term which the next edition of Dr. John- 
 son's Dictionary inevitably must contain. 
 
 t There can be no doubt, as has been hinted at in the beginning 
 of the Chapter, that Boswell's peculiarities laid him open to be what
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 227 
 
 I wish to keep hovering as an English lawyer, for I 
 much, much fear that now I should be more unhappy 
 than ever in Scotland. Hawkins and I got into good 
 social plight this winter ; I dined at his house one day 
 with the Hon. and Rev. William Stuart, and they 
 dined at mine a few days after, and we were exceedingly 
 well. 
 
 There is just come out a publication which makes a 
 considerable noise, and which will interest you par- 
 ticularly. The celebrated Dr. Parr of Norwich, author 
 of the extraordinary Preface to Bellendenus,* has — 
 wickedly, shall we say ^ — but surely wantonly — collected 
 and published Warburton's Juvenile Translations and 
 Discourse on Prodigies, and Bishop Hurd's attacks on 
 Jortin and Dr. Thomas Leland with his " Essay on the 
 Delicacy of Friendship." The sheets will require ten 
 franks, which would be too many at a time ; they shall 
 come gradually. By this post I send you Parr's two 
 Prefaces and Dedication, in which you will find ardentia 
 verba indeed, and uncommon keenness of severity to 
 Hurd, such as cannot be justified unless great pro- 
 vocation has been given. Public affairs are in a very 
 dubious situation. 1 really do believe the King will 
 recover ; and I am told that neither the Duke of 
 
 is termed '■'■roasted'''' somewhat by the Circuit wits, who were, if 
 tradition may be trusted, somewhat more " rough " in their humour 
 than they are at the present day. Possibly also Boswell may have 
 been thinking of the " motion," quare adh^es'it pav'mento, which he 
 made in court, upon sham instructions emanating from the con- 
 viviality of the mess-table. 
 
 * It is in this preface that the " tria lumina Anglorum " — Lord 
 North, Fox, and Burke — are bepraised. The republications men- 
 tioned above by Boswell were issued by Dr. Parr from his spite to 
 Dr. Hurd. The literary and ecclesiastical scandals referred to in 
 this letter will be found in the respective biographies of the worthy 
 divines whose names are here connected with the disputation.
 
 228 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Portland nor Mr. Fox will accept of any part in an 
 Administration which is not likely to be permanent. 
 I begin now to think that whatever Administration 
 should appoint you and me to good places would be 
 the best. Lord Lonsdale is not yet out of his room, 
 but 1 see his members are in opposition. Pitt 
 (probably influenced by Dundas) has used me very 
 ill ; but I yet cannot relish the Coalition, especially 
 that worthless minister, Lord North. Nous verrons. 
 
 Let me know when you are to be in town ; remember 
 it will not be possible to bear another disappointment. 
 Lord Eliot 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 myself, though 
 living in company, he is subject to depression of spirits, 
 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, loth March, 1789. 
 
 My dear Temple, — David has found a Bipontine 
 Ammianus Marcellinus, 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 to-day from a relation, she is 
 certainly very ill, having a severe cough, sweatings, and 
 swelled legs. She has indeed had all these alarming
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 229 
 
 symptoms before, and has recovered ; but frequent 
 relapses make her situation more dangerous. I wait 
 with anxiety for a letter from a physician to whom I 
 have written to see her, as if on a visit of compliment 
 (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 
 directly, 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 London and 
 Westminster in the evening to contemplate the illumi- 
 nations 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 
 interview after so long an absence will be very 
 valuable. 
 
 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.
 
 230 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 My best compliments to Mrs. Temple. Long may 
 she be a comfort to you ! Love to your family. 
 
 I am ever 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 JB. 
 
 73] London, 5//^ 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 me 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, who is with her, have made me a little easier, 
 and I wait for further accounts, having written to her 
 physician in the country 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 already been delayed too long 
 — the completion of my " Life of Johnson," and taking 
 myself out of the great wheel of the Metropolis, from 
 which I 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 231 
 
 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." 
 Indeed all your " Abels," and such works, I should 
 guess are fit only for milk-and-water minds. Bar- 
 thelemy'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 fanci- 
 fully, 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 suggested that you should first be informed it is 
 pretty dear, — under £1, however, — that you may con- 
 sider. Courtenay commends much " Moeurs des 
 Grecs," by Peur, 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 w/zy, because that 
 may be objected to thousands and thousands of facts 
 which, in this world of mystery, we are sure have 
 happened. Malone and Sir Joshua will not believe 
 it ; they very erroneously, I think, maintain that sup- 
 posing the appearance, or imagination, or whatever
 
 232 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 Mess having 
 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 well known how people exag- 
 gerate and vary accounts. Johnson taught me to 
 cross-question in common life. I really think the 
 story deserves to be thoroughly examined. Where is 
 Winyard ^ 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 
 worse accounts. PFhy is this melancholy circumstance 
 in the lot of my family ? Cui 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 233 
 
 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 osten- 
 sibly on good terms) there existed great jealousy ; and Boswell's 
 ill-feeling towards his rival is frequently exhibited in the "Life 
 of Johnson." The passage cited in the above Postcript was 
 retained in the book unaltered, and will be found at the com- 
 mencement of the Biography. 
 
 With respect to Boswell's annoyance at Hawkin's talking of 
 him as quite unknown, there is an anecdote related * which is 
 a very proper pendant to his complaint, and which makes poor 
 Boswell's position appear still more ridiculous. 
 
 " My father and Boswell," says Miss Hawkins, " 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! ' '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 ' the celebrated ' or 
 the ' well-known,' but he could not confess quite so much ; he 
 therefore acquiesced in the amendment proposed, but he was 
 forced to depart without any promise of correction in a subse- 
 quent edition." 
 
 The Reader will remember, that, having attacked Sir John 
 
 * See anecdotes by Miss Hawkins in " Johnsoniana."
 
 234 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 reconcile 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, idth 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 and 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 will be obliged to you if you can 
 ascertain the day (for hour and minute are too precise) 
 on which the appearance 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 jesting concert to have a 
 regimental ghost, Courtenay also begs that you, in 
 whose opinion he will have confidence, may, upon strict
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 235 
 
 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 affectionately 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. 
 
 75] London, 31/^ M^rr/^, 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 continues, and I waste away daily." 
 I have been in wretched agitation since the day before 
 yesterday, when such melancholy information reached 
 me. It is possible that a return of mild weather may 
 relieve her, as has happened several times ; but we 
 cannot be ignorant 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 alter- 
 native is dreadful ; and though she, with admirable 
 generosity, bids me not be in a haste to leave London 
 (knowing my extreme 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 life. I have therefore resolved to set out
 
 236 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 early, the day after to-morrow, 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 frequently, pray let us continue to do so. Your 
 letters, under Mr. Garforth's cover, will be punctually 
 forwarded. 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 neces- 
 sary 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 recovery. 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 par- 
 ticulars ; 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. 
 
 * This Queen Square boarding-school, which was at one time so 
 fashionable and famous as to be termed the " Ladies' Eton," having 
 survived for nearly a century, has been finally closed within the last 
 year or two.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 237 
 
 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, notwithstand- 
 ing 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 
 firmness with which David behaves is very respectable. 
 He is right in persevering, so as to leave Dundas 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 pro- 
 motion, 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 
 manner 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
 
 238 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 
 Lowther, three of his Members, assure me that he 
 will give me a seat in Parliament at the General Elec- 
 tion. I do not reckon upon this, but the peut-etre is 
 animating. 
 
 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 public, and behaved with un- 
 grateful insolence to my patron^ who first introduced 
 him into public life, may I not warrantably 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 manoeuvres will be able 
 to understand this passage ; unless indeed Reformed Parliaments 
 have rendered this corrupt science obsolete.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 239 
 
 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 is 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.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 1789 
 
 Mrs. BoswelPs case pronounced hopeless — Self-reproaches — Parlia- 
 mentary aspiration — Chairman of Quarter-Sessions — Address to 
 the Prince of Wales — " Conspicuousness " — Pitt — Death of Mrs. 
 Boswell — Family plans — Electioneering — Visit to Lord Lonsdale — 
 Strange loss of a wig — Gloomy condition of mind — Mysterious 
 discovery of the wig — Malone revising the " Life of Johnson " — 
 Sir "Joshua Reynolds blindness — BoswelPs income — Visit to Eton 
 — Progress of the ^^ Life ofJohnsonP 
 
 The illness from which Mrs. Boswell had been suffering 
 terminated fatally during the absence of her husband. The 
 following letters exhibit in curious contrast Boswell's grief, 
 which was undoubtedly genuine, and the littlenesses and vanity 
 which unfortunately formed part of his nature. The nineteen 
 carriages, &c., 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 dissipation during his 
 wife's illness. His penitence seems also not a little excited, 
 when he remembers the inconvenience he experiences from 
 spraining his shoulder through his intoxication. 
 
 The election struggles which Boswell engaged in were un- 
 successful, 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 confesses that it has been, and still is, his great object, that 
 his life should tell ; 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. 
 
 240 

 
 TO VV. J. TEMPLE 241 
 
 76] LowT HER, 2 in (^ 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 our- 
 selves 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 human 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 parti- 
 cular 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 April, and now sitting down 
 here to do it when I am upon the wing.f 
 
 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 ai^/e 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 
 respite of comparative ease. Oh, my dear old friend, 
 how shocking was this to me ! Alas ! instead of having 
 a manly firmness, I am more weak and effeminate in 
 
 This question the reader is now in a position to answer, 
 t The sequence of Boswell's ideas in this paragraph is not very 
 obvious.
 
 242 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 mind than the valuable woman herself. Added to her 
 other complicated 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, 
 which 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 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 
 result of an attachment truly romantic ; yet how painful 
 is it to me to recollect a thousand instances of incon- 
 sistent conduct. I can justify my removing to the 
 great sphere of England, upon a principle of laudable 
 ambition ; but the frequent scenes of what I must call 
 dissolute 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 Auchin- 
 leck, 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 243 
 
 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 
 Lowther, and would be glad to have my company in 
 the carriage with him. I expected such a letter, because 
 I 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 was severe. She, 
 with a spirit which I cannot enough admire, 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 way is 
 exceedingly dilatory, so that we have not set out to-day 
 as was proposed, and perhaps we may not go for a 
 day or two longer. I philosophically resign myself to 
 what may happen ; this being (as Governor Penn, the 
 American, and one of his Members, 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 will go 
 forward. To be zealous is, with justice, a strong 
 recommendation ; and such is the great Parliamentary 
 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.
 
 244 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Entre nous^ my chance for representing my own County 
 is very small. There is a great coalition between Lord 
 Eglintoun and Sir Adam Fergusson, formed and 
 supported by Dundas. Against that there are three 
 candidates ; one who has a large number of votes, and 
 two of us who have each such a number that he cannot 
 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, knowing 
 my small chance^ I spend almost nothing in electioneer- 
 ing, yet keep up a spirited appearance. 
 
 At our last general Quarter-Sessions I was appointed 
 Chairman, or Prasses, 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 con- 
 duct 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, accompanied 
 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 wishing for 
 preferment, when men of the first family and fortune 
 in England struggle for it ? We shall see ; meantime 
 the attempt rouses my spirits. What a state is my 
 present ! — full of ambition and projects to attain 
 wealth and eminence, yet embarrassed in my circum- 
 stances, and depressed with family distress, which at 
 times makes everything in life seem indifferent. I
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 245 
 
 often repeat Johnson's lines, in his vanity of human 
 wishes : 
 
 " Shall helpless man, in ignorance sedate, 
 Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate ? " 
 
 Your account of your young family pleases me much, 
 while I am at the same time struck with a strange 
 memento how old we now are. May God bless them ! 
 My heart, and that of my dear wife, were tenderly 
 touched with the very affectionate and I am sure sin- 
 cere offer of accommodation by you and Mrs. Temple; 
 I heartily wish she had been able and willing to accept 
 of it; but home 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 certainly so as to my own life. I am 
 continually conscious, continually looking hack, or look- 
 ing forward, and wondering how I shall feel in situa- 
 tions which I anticipate in fancy. My 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 
 indeed she is too shrewd to receive the common topics: 
 she is keen and penetrating. Is it not difficult to 
 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 why 
 this is. I entreat all the comfort you can give. Write 
 to me in London directly.
 
 246 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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. 
 
 7"/^ AucHiNLECK, -^rdju/y, 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 the road, not even in our 
 own parish, nor till my second daughter came running 
 out from the house, and announced to us the dismal 
 event in a burst of tears. O my Temple, what dis- 
 tress! 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,
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 247 
 
 and upbraided myself 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 weeks 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 was 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 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 carriages followed the hearse, and a large body 
 of horsemen and the tenants of all my lands. It is 
 not customary 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 cofEn in presence of my sons, and was 
 relieved 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 
 imagined 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, 
 should I or could I be satisfied with narrow provin- 
 ciality, which was formerly so irksome, and must now
 
 248 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 be much more so ? I have agreed that my second 
 daughter shall pass this winter at Edinburgh, as she 
 has desired it, in 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 London. 
 Little Betsy, who is just nine years old, goes to-morrow 
 to a quiet boarding-school at Ayr, our country-town, 
 till 1 settle where to place her for a year or two. I 
 am thinking of a convent in France, or rather in 
 Flanders, 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 
 advise 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 
 revising of Johnson's Life cannot proceed till winter. 
 I am much obliged to you for your prayer. I ex- 
 perience 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] AucHiNLECK, 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 249 
 
 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- 
 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 you, 
 and of which I shall frankly accept, is perfectly decisive. 
 I cannot yet resolve whether I shall come to you this 
 month, so as to beat 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 Michaelmas, 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. To-morrow 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 success 
 at the General Election, but I may perhaps negotiate 
 for a part of the Parliament. The Prince of Wales 
 has received our Address most graciously, and I am to 
 be presented to his Royal Highness, who desired it 
 might be signified that he regretted Mr. Boswell was 
 gone from town.
 
 250 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 ! O 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, zyd 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 lawyers. I con- 
 sulted 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. 
 
 A strange accident happened : the house at Lowther 
 v^^as 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 251 
 
 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 was ; 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- 
 live miles to Carlisle on Friday, and luckily got a wig 
 there fitted for me in a few hours. Yesterday I 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 to-day. 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 
 God have mercy upon me ! I am quite restless and 
 feeble and desponding. I return 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 familiarity, would
 
 252 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 exertions, 
 or sink me into a gloomy stupor. Let me not think 
 at present, far less resolve. The " Life of Johnson " 
 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 
 mxy 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 ^ 
 
 Almighty 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 
 " Jesus wept " for the death of Lazarus, I hope my 
 tears at this time are excused. 
 
 How much do I regret that I have not applied my- 
 self more to learning. " Adversis perfugium et sola- 
 tium prasbent,"* is, 1 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 wretched- 
 ness. 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 
 
 * Cic, ProArchia Poeta, c. 7. — The remainder of the quotation 
 Boswell might have remembered equally appositely : — " Hsc studia 
 adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, secundas res ornant, 
 adversis perfugium ac solatium praebent, delectant domi, non 
 impediunt foris, pernoctant nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur."
 
 TO VV. J. TEMPLE 253 
 
 of hope that 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 enjoyment 
 in this state of being ? My kindest compliments to all 
 your family. Value Mrs, Temple warmly while you 
 have her. Write to me under cover to Mr. Garforth. 
 Ever, etc. 
 
 J. B. 
 
 80] London, 13//^ October, 1789. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Believe me I cannot suffi- 
 ciently thank you for the comfort your last most 
 friendly letter gave me. Your kindness has all advan- 
 tages : it is wise, virtuous, and pleasing. I thank God 
 my mind has attained more composure than when I 
 wrote to you from the Bishop of Carlisle's ; but the 
 truth is, I am in a kind of dissipated stupor, and am 
 afraid to think. I left Auchinleck on the first of this 
 month ; I had before that gone to Carlisle, and met 
 Lord Lonsdale, to license the publicans. 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 
 which it was lost will remain as secret as the author of 
 Junius. 
 
 On consideration, and hearing my friends here, I 
 cannot think of sending little Betsy so far as Devon-
 
 254 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 am inquiring 
 for a boarding-school in the neighbourhood of London. 
 This being now my resolution, I defer my visit to you. 
 Malone, who obligingly revises my " Life of Johnson," 
 is to go to Ireland when his Shakespeare is published, 
 which will be about Christmas. I am therefore to get 
 as much of his time as may be while he remains, as he 
 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 afflict 
 him deeply : he is another instance of did heatus ante 
 obitum nemo. His friends are assiduous in consoling 
 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. 
 
 \\th 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 
 Edinburgh pressingly, to exert [himself] in getting 
 me payment 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 255 
 
 your money ready before the Tontine is closed. How 
 unpleasant is it to be straitened in our circumstances^ as 
 the phrase is ; yet this I have been for twenty years, 
 and, I dread, must be so I know not how long. I 
 must reckon my children at ;^ioo 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. 
 Yesterday 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 conversation ; 
 1 hope to recover them. I go to Eton tomorrow 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 Fellows' table, and made a 
 creditable figure. / 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 ? 1 
 had my classical quotations very ready. I have drunk too 
 much wine for some time past.* I fly to every mode 
 of agitation. 1 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 drunken fellow is not honest — * a stick,' said 
 I, * kept always moist must become rotten.' " — Boswellianay Philobib. 
 Soc, vol. ii.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 I 789-1 790 
 
 Habit of intemperance — Malone — BosweWs own opinion of the 
 merits of the ^^Life of Johnson " — Private affairs — A good dinner 
 — Monument to Dr. "Johnson — ^^ European Settlements^ written by 
 Burke's cousin — Printing the ^^ Life of Johnson" — Inscription on 
 his ?nonument — 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 under- 
 went in preparing his magnum opus for the Press, is probably no 
 exaggeration. No matter of minutest detail, however trifling 
 in itself, was allowed to pass by the indefatigable biographer 
 into his pages without being tested and established to his own 
 conscientious 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 reference to 
 Boswell's two sons : all that it has been thought necessary to 
 say with respect to their career will be found [in the original 
 Introduction]. 
 
 81] London, z^th November, 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." 
 
 Your last letter supposes too truly my situation. With 
 grief continually at my heart, I have been endeavouring 
 
 256
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 257 
 
 to seek relief in dissipation and in wine, so that my 
 life for some time past has been unworthy of myself, 
 of you, and of all that is valuable in my character and 
 connections. For a week past, as the common phrase 
 is, *' I have taken up," and, by a more regular and 
 quiet course, find myself, 1 think, rather better. I 
 cannot express to you, Temple, what I suffer from the 
 loss of my valuable wife and the mother of my chil- 
 dren. While she lived, I had no occasion almost to 
 think concerning my family ; every particular was 
 thought of by her, better than I could. 1 am the most 
 helpless of human beings ; I am in a state very much 
 that of one in despair. 
 
 30/^ 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 life, 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 
 intended and wished, is really a sufficient one ; for the 
 revision of my *' Life of Johnson " by so acute and 
 knowing a critic as Mr. Malone is of most essential 
 consequence, especially as he is Johnsonianissimiis ; and, 
 as he is to hasten to Ireland as soon as his Shakespeare 
 is fairly published, 1 must avail myself of him now. 
 His hospitality and my other invitations, and particu- 
 larly 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 perplexity, what 
 vexation I have endured in arranging a prodigious 
 multiplicity of materials, in supplying omissions, in 
 searching for papers, buried in different masses, and all 
 this besides the exertion of composing and polishing :
 
 258 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 many a time have I thought of giving it up. How- 
 ever, though 1 shall be uneasily sensible of its many 
 deficiencies, it will certainly be to the world a very 
 valuable 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 with authenticity and in a 
 lively 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 
 promised no more, and I may die in peace, or retire 
 into dull obscurity, reddarque tenehris. Such is the 
 gloomy ground of my mind, that any agreeable per- 
 ceptions have an uncommon, though but a momentary, 
 brightness. 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 obstinate feeling toward men, I walk about upon the 
 earth with inward discontent, though I may appear the 
 most cheerful man you meet. I may have many grati- 
 fications, but the comfort of life is at an end. 
 
 I shrunk, on a near approach of the time, from 
 
 * In Johnson's Dictionary we find the word thus defined : — 
 
 "Anecdote, n. s. i. Something yet unpublished ; secret history. 
 " Some modern anecdotes aver 
 He nodded in his easy chair." — Prior. 
 
 "2. It is now used, after the French, for a biographical incident, 
 a minute passage of private life." 
 
 However now we hear of " anecdotes" alike of great 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 
 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 
 he would have been horrified.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 259 
 
 sending my youngest daughter to such a distance ; 
 indeed Sir Joshua said there would be a loss of all 
 natural affection ; and considering that she was not to 
 he in your neighbourhood either, I placed her at Mr. 
 Hockley's, at Blackland's House, Chelsea, a very excel- 
 lent 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, who have all been too much 
 indulged, my second daughter is at a good boarding- 
 school at Edinburgh, and under the inspection of her 
 Grandmamma^ as my father's widow is called, who, I 
 must 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 
 1 am very little at home, cannot afford to keep a car- 
 riage, 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-
 
 26o LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 dent of them, from the consideration of being com- 
 fortably accommodated, and having ^30 or £^0 to 
 buy clothes. But ?ny daughters are not what girls of 
 fifteen and sixteen commonly are ; they are exceedingly 
 advanced for their years, and would not submit to such 
 a woman, nor have I almost any authority 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 chambers 
 in the Inner Temple, to have the appearance of a 
 lawyer. O 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, who, 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 /[850 to spend. I reckon my 
 five children at j^soo 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 day this last Term, being eager to get my 
 " Life of Johnson " finished. And the delusion that 
 practice may come at any time (which is certainly true) 
 still possesses me.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 261 
 
 My eldest son has been at Eton since the 15th of 
 October. You cannot imagine how miserable he has 
 been : he wrote to me 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 ^^3000 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 Queen's, Oxford, a tioarse 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 somewhere^ for 
 while under my roof he passes his time chiefly with 
 my old housekeeper and my footman. What shall I 
 do } Soho is a competently good place, but there are 
 few boys there but of an inferior rank ; yet is it not 
 injustice to a good master, should I remove my son .? 
 The boy wishes much to go to Eton, because his 
 brother is there ; I, on the other hand, think it better 
 they should be separate, and wish to place him at
 
 262 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 
 respect 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 ;^iooo 
 due to me out of the patrimonies of my wife's nephews, 
 which I hope will be paid in the course of a year and 
 a 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, Flood 
 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
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 263 
 
 dinners ! Malone gives them without number. Last 
 Sunday I dined with him, with 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 supporter 
 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 imme- 
 diate cause, and therefore we see to what a horrible 
 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 unnatural 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 however 
 just ending the '* European Settlements in America," 
 for the first time : it is an admirable compend. Burke
 
 264 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 said to me, "I did not write it; I 'do not deny that 
 a friend did, and I revised it." Malone tells me 
 that it was written by Will Burke, the cousin of 
 Edmund, when they were in Wales ; but it is every- 
 where 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 Sermons, etc. 
 Could you get him no subscribers ? Best compliments 
 to Mrs. Temple, and love to all the children. 
 
 Ever yours, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 82] London, 8//5 Feb., 1790. 
 
 My dear Temple, — It is a long time since I wrote 
 you a letter of twelve pages, to which I have received 
 no return ; and, notwithstanding 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 himself 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 Westminster School.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 265 
 
 Warren has three of his own sons there, and assures me 
 that they are very healthy. I still keep on my house 
 in Oueen Ann Street West, having taken it till Mid- 
 summer, upon my finding that chambers in the Temple, 
 which I thought I had secured, were let to me by a per- 
 son 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 Johnson " 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 upon what is 
 called an English letter, 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 appeared 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 therefore taken a smaller type, called Pica^ and 
 even upon that I am afraid its bulk will be very large. 
 It is curious to observe how a printer calculates : he 
 arranges a number of pages, and the words in them, at 
 different 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 number of pages. 
 Mine will be, we reckon, eight hundred. I think it will 
 be without exception the most entertaining book you 
 ever read. I cannot be done with printing 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 
 you could assist us in your neighbourhood. As your
 
 266 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 character of Gray was adopted by him,* it would appear 
 well if you sent two guineas. We shall have a great 
 dispute as to the epitaph. Flood, the orator, though a 
 distinguished scholar, says it should be in English, as a 
 compliment to Johnson's having perpetuated our lan- 
 guage : he has comprised his opinion in these lines : 
 
 " No need of Latin, or of Greek, to grace 
 
 Our Johnson's memory and inscribe his grave ; 
 His native tongue demands this mournful space, 
 To pay the immortality he gave." 
 
 The Post-bell summons me to conclude, with best 
 compliments to Mrs. Temple and love to your children, 
 from your most affectionate friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 P.S. — Is there any doubt of your coming to London 
 this year ? surely not ! It is a heaven upon earth com- 
 paratively. 
 
 83] London, iT^th February, 1790. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Your few lines of the 6th warmed 
 my heart. I fully excuse you for your long silence, and 
 sincerely sympathise with you while under the pressure 
 of that uncomfortable indolence, which I know so well. 
 I also know how grateful it is to a man in that state to 
 have th*". animated attention of his friends, especially 
 those who are in the Metropolis, to whom he looks up ; 
 and as by God's mercy I am at present wonderfully well, 
 I shall endeavour to write to you often, and to supply 
 you with spirits from my store. I cannot account for 
 my healthful mind at this time ; there is no change for 
 
 * The Subscription List will show any reader who is curious on 
 the matter if this inducement influenced Mr. Temple to subscribe 
 to the Memorial.
 
 TO W. ]. TEMPLE 267 
 
 the better in my circumstances. I have no better prospect 
 of gratifying my ambition, or of increasing my fortune. 
 The irreparable loss of my valuable wife, the helpless 
 state of my daughters, in short all that ever hung heavy 
 upon me is still as it was ; but my spirits are vigorous 
 and elastic. I dine in a different company almost every 
 day, at least scarcely ever twice running in the same 
 company, so that I have fresh accessions of ideas. I 
 drink with Lord Lonsdale one day ; the next I am quiet 
 in Malone's elegant study revising my " Life of John- 
 son," of which I have high expectations both as to fame 
 and profit. I surely have the art of writing agreeably. 
 The Lord Chancellor told me he had read every word 
 of my Hebridian Journal; he could not help it; adding, 
 " Could you give a rule how to write a book that a man 
 must read ? I believe Longinus could not." 
 
 Honest David dined with me yesterday. Your power- 
 of-attorney is perfectly right. Dundas deserves to be 
 hanged for his treacherous and unfeeling conduct to 
 David; but David will stick to him. I am thinking to 
 write, in my way, against the repeal of the Test and 
 Corporation Acts ; I have no patience with the impudent 
 Sectarians. You know I meet at Dilly's table many of 
 those fellows who are very firebrands. 
 
 My best compliments to Mrs. Temple, and love to 
 the children. My sons are getting well. I saw my 
 little daughter at Chelsea to-day, very much improved; 
 she is very pretty, — she really is ! Adieu, my oldest 
 and most intimate friend ! 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 James Boswell.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 1 790-1 791 
 
 Political Disappointment — Lord Lonsdale's shocking roughness — A 
 lady of fortune — Death of Ross^ the player — Hypochondria — Ad- 
 vantages of high life and five hundred pounds per annum — Macklin^ 
 the actor — Last sheet of^^ Life ofjohnson " — Meditations on matri- 
 viony — Miss Bagnal — IVar with Russia — Helping the Turks. 
 
 One of Boswell's political and place-seeking misfortunes will 
 be found recounted presently, in a manner which, thovigh 
 eminently ridiculous, shows how deeply he was mortified by 
 the transaction referred to. The reader will also see the ap- 
 proach of fresh matrimonial speculations j but, on the whole, 
 the correspondence continues to display melancholy proofs that 
 poor Boswell's brightest days were past. The animal vigour 
 which was the main support of his success in society, and 
 which was wont to sustain him through the discomforts he 
 was destined to encounter, was now clearly decaying, and with 
 it ebbed his spirits. 
 
 84] Carlisle, z\st June, 1790. 
 
 My dear Temple, — At no period during our long 
 friendship have I been more unhappy than at present. 
 The day on which I was obliged to set out from 
 London, I had an hour allowed me, after a most 
 shocking conversation with Lord Lonsdale, and I 
 hasten"ed home in hopes of finding you, but you were 
 gone out. It was to inform you that, upon his seeing 
 me by no means in good humour, he challenged it 
 roughly, and said, " I suppose you thought I was to 
 
 268
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 269 
 
 bring you into Parliament; I never had any such 
 intention." In short he expressed himself in the most 
 degrading manner, in presence of a low man from 
 Carlisle, and one of his menial servants ! The miser- 
 able state of low spirits I had, as you too well know, 
 laboured under for some time before, made me almost 
 sink under such unexpected insulting behaviour. He 
 insisted rigorously on my having solicited the office of 
 Recorder of Carlisle ; and that I could not, without 
 using him ill, resign It, until the duties which were now 
 required of it were fulfilled, and without a sufficient 
 time being given for the election of a successor. Thus 
 was I dragged away, as wretched as a convict ; and in 
 my fretfulness I used such expressions as irritated him 
 almost to fury, so that he used such expressions towards 
 me that I should have, according to the irrational laws 
 of honour sanctioned by the world, been under the 
 necessity of risking my life, had not an explanation 
 taken place. This happened during the first stage. 
 The rest of the journey was barely tolerable : we got to 
 Lancaster on Saturday night, and there I left him to 
 the turmoil of a desperate attempt in electioneering. 
 I proceeded to Carlisle last night, and to-day have 
 been signing orders as to poor's-rates. I am alone at 
 an inn, in wretched spirits, and ashamed and sunk on 
 account of the disappointment of hopes, which led me 
 to endure such grievances. I deserve all that I suffer. 
 I may be kept hanging on for weeks, till the election 
 and Midsummer Sessions are over ; and I am at the 
 same time distracted what to do in my own County, as 
 to the state of which I expect letters every day. I am 
 quite in a fever. O my old and most intimate friend, 
 what a shocking state am I now reduced to ! I entreat 
 of you, if you possibly can, to afford me some consola- 
 tion, directed to me here, and pray do not divulge
 
 270 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 my mortification. I will endeavour to appear in- 
 different ; and, as I now resign my Recordership, I 
 shall gradually get rid of all communication with this 
 brutal fellow.* 
 
 How much does it distress me to think, that I should 
 have had a return of hypochondria at the very time 
 when you and your amiable daughter were with us, 
 and then that I should have been compelled to leave 
 you. As to making provision for your amusement 
 from my friends, alas ! the selfishness of London is too 
 great. I look up to God for relief to my mind ; and I 
 have this real consolation^ that we have met after a long 
 absence, the same friends as when we parted. My 
 kindest compliments to Miss Temple. 
 
 Ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 p,S. — How unfortunate to be obliged to leave my 
 friend, and interrupt my Work ! Never was a poor 
 ambitious projector more mortified. I am suffering 
 without any prospect of reward, and only from my 
 own folly. I apprehend you will be set out before this 
 reaches London. May God bless you and Mrs. Temple, 
 and your children ! As to my conduct and future 
 views, I take your admonition in good part, and shall 
 profit by it in one way or other ; but of this hereafter. 
 
 8c] London, zistjuly, 1790. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I gratefully acknowledged the 
 receipt of your kind and soothing letter, directed to me 
 at CarUsle, where I was detained in irksome captivity 
 from Sunday the 20th June, till Thursday the 1 5th July, 
 when I at length got free, and, with my daughter 
 Euphemia, arrived here about noon on Saturday the 
 
 * Meaning his noble patron.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 271 
 
 17th, Though my mind was very sick, I soon felt 
 relief in London. I dined that day quietly with Malone. 
 On Sunday I was at St. George's Church, Hanover 
 Square, and dined again with Malone, having by mis- 
 take been too late for the Villa of Devaynes, the 
 apothecary. On Monday I and my two daughters 
 dined and passed the day at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, 
 where were Lord Eliot and his son John, Mr. Metcalfe, 
 Mr. Malone, Mr. Jepson, and Mr. Devaynes. Variety 
 of company had an insensible influence upon my mind ; 
 but, whenever I was alone, my depression of spirits 
 recurred. I have however dined yesterday and to-day 
 at home with my daughters, and am tolerably well. 
 On my return to town I found a serious cause of real 
 anxiety, my dear little James having been seriously ill 
 of a fever for near a week, and being still under that 
 alarming disorder. I thank God that this day Dr. 
 Warren has declared that the fever has left him. I am 
 in great concern what should, be done with him, for he 
 is so oppressed at Westminster School by the big boys 
 that I am almost afraid to send him thither ; but he 
 must be at some school, and changes are disad- 
 vantageous. 
 
 Your letter of 7th June was lying for me here on 
 my arrival. You may easily believe that I most 
 sincerely sympathise with the uneasy feelings which 
 you confess. What a state are we in ! dissatisfied with 
 the present, and longing for some other situation, and, 
 when '- we reach that^ very often experiencing more 
 uneasiness, nay, imagining that what we wished to 
 quit was better. Surely, my dear friend, there must 
 be another world, in which such beings as we are will 
 have our misery compensated. But is not this a state 
 of probation .'' and, if it is, how awful is the considera- 
 tion ! I am struck with your question, " Have you
 
 272 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 confidence to entreat the Divine aid ? " In truth I am 
 sensible that I do not sufficiently " try my ways," as 
 the Psalmist says, and am even almost inclined to 
 think with you, that my great oracle 'Johnson did allow 
 too much credit to good principles^ without good practice. 
 What advice can I give you, my dear Temple, to be 
 pleased with yourself, unless to beg that you may view 
 yourself with my eyes ? for instance, when I think of 
 your creditable situation in the Church, while my 
 attempts in the Law have been hitherto so unsuccessful, 
 I wonder that you are not contented, though I would 
 not have you satisfied. And considering your domestic 
 disposition, your love of books and of rural scenes, you 
 are upon the whole vastly well. But let us contribute 
 all we can to each other's aid. 
 
 I did not go to Ayrshire, finding that I could only 
 show how small a party I had. I shall keep up a 
 candidateship, as giving consequence. I parted from 
 the northern tyrant in a strange, equivocal state, for he 
 was half irritated, half reconciled ; but I promise you 
 I shall keep myself quite independent of him. Best 
 compliments to all. 
 
 Ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 P.S. — Veronica says she has not found any feathers 
 left by Miss Temple. My Work had not stopped 
 during my absence. I shall now persevere in dili- 
 gence ; and, though I am now in woeful indifference, 
 I trust that before it is finished a taste or relish shall 
 return. 
 
 While in the North, I got such accounts of the lady 
 of fortune, whose reputation you heard something of, 
 that I was quite determined to make no advances. 
 Whether I shall take any such step I doubt much.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 273 
 
 The loss I have experienced is perpetually recurring ; 
 and, though there might be comforts in what you sug- 
 gested, I fear there would be troubles. 
 
 86] London, it^tk September, 1790, 
 
 My dear Temple, — Your last letter is truly kind. 
 I intended to have written you a long letter to-day, 
 and for that purpose obtained from Lord Eliot the 
 frank which covers this. But my old friend Ross, the 
 player, died suddenly yesterday morning. I was sent 
 for, as his most particular friend in town, and have 
 been so busy in arranging his funeral, at which I am to 
 be chief mourner, that I have left myself very little time 
 — only about ten minutes. Poor Ross ! he was an 
 unfortunate man in some respects ; but he was a true 
 bon-vivant, a most social man, and never was without 
 good eating and drinking, and hearty companions. He 
 had school-fellows and friends who stood by him won- 
 derfully. I have discovered that Admiral Barrington 
 once sent him ^loo^ and allowed him an annuity of 
 £60 a-year. 
 
 As to the important part of your letter, I should not 
 hesitate a moment, judging from the account which 
 you give me of the offer which Miss Temple has. But 
 I do not clearly understand of what family he is ; I 
 read "Duke of Breton." * Pray write the name fair, and 
 be more full. Is the young gentleman a foreigner ? 
 But I would by no means refuse such an offer. She is 
 indeed a charming girl, and was much admired here, 
 even by the critic Malone. 
 
 God bless you, my dearest friend, in whom I have 
 the consolation of unaltered affection, and ever am 
 
 Most sincerely yours, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 * [Sc. Bolton. See editor's Introduction.]
 
 274 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 I shall, without fail, write again soon. 
 
 I have a letter to-day from honest David : he left 
 London on Tuesday, half-past twelve at noon, and got 
 to Auchinleck on Friday. 
 
 87] London, 2\ih Nov., 1790. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Instead of a long letter, I write 
 a scrap, and at the same time send another, part of one 
 of an old date. Pray do not let your daughter refuse 
 so good a match. I am in great spirits, and shall, upon 
 my honour, write fully this week. 
 
 Ever most affectionately yours, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 88] London, Jth February, 1791. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Before this time you have been 
 informed of my having had a most miserable return of 
 bad spirits. Not only have I had a total distaste of 
 life, but have been perpetually gnawed by a kind of 
 mental fever. It is really shocking that human nature 
 is liable to such inexplicable distress. O my friend, 
 what can I do .f" In your last, I find that you are 
 afflicted with discontent and disapprobation of yourself, 
 — you, who are so learned, so elegant, so good a man 
 in all the relations of life. Your observation in a 
 former letter, as to time being measured not only by 
 days and years, but by our advancement in life, is new 
 and striking, and is brought home to us both, especially 
 to me, who have obtained no advancement whatever ; 
 but let me not harass you with my complaints, but 
 proceed to what concerns you and yours. 
 
 Miss Palmer, who has, I really believe, a sincere 
 regard for you, applied to Lord EUot, but all in vain. 
 I believe I mentioned to you having been told that 
 
 i
 
 TO VV. J. TEMPLE 275 
 
 several of the young men appointed by Lord Chatham 
 had not served their time, and therefore were to be 
 struck off, so that I hoped this might afford an opening ; 
 but what are we to do, when variety of interests draw 
 so strong ? I met Jerningham last night, at Lord 
 Lucan's, and complimented him on his new poem, of 
 which I have read a part. I spoke to him about your 
 son ; but, though I believe well inclined, he did not 
 seem to think he could do much. I protest I hope 
 most from Dundas. If you will allow me I will try 
 him in my way, requesting he may do a kindness of 
 much consequence to an old friend, unconnected with 
 politics ; and let me have it to tell. You should certainly 
 write to him again, either for a vacancy now, or for the 
 Newfoundland Station afterwards. It was a mistake to 
 suppose that Hawkins* would write to Mr. Pitt : he 
 never said he would, and he assures me he would 
 not were his own brother in the case. It is agreeable 
 to think that your son is a fine manly fellow, and does 
 not seem to be discouraged though his promotion should 
 be delayed. What a world is this ! Here again I 
 check myself, and go on. Your daughter is indeed a 
 most valuable young woman, and we cannot be too 
 anxious as to her settlement in life. I understood from 
 your son that Mr. Powlett's attachment to her is very 
 strong : this is a very favourable circumstance, and 
 much to his credit. I should wish to see him. The 
 objections which Mrs. Temple suggests are exceed- 
 ingly sensible, but, if the character of the gentleman 
 be steady, I should not fear the effects of his being in 
 the high company you mention. At the same time I 
 think it essential that he should have a reasonable 
 income upon some certainty. If either in one way or 
 
 * [Sir Christopher ; see Baring Gould's " Book of Devonshire 
 Portraits." — Ed.]
 
 276 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 another that is secured^ I am clear that the match should 
 take place. 
 
 Hawkins has been very attentive to me this winter, 
 and we must take him as he is.* 
 
 May God bless you and yours, my ever dear friend, 
 prays 
 
 Your most affectionate, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 89] London, 2nd April, 1791. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I return you Mr. Powlett's 
 letter, with which I am much pleased, and having, 
 according to your desire, shown it to honest David, we 
 had last night a conference upon the subject, which is 
 truly interesting to your family. He agrees with me 
 that, if Mr. Powlett and your daughter can be sure of 
 _^500 a year, such a match ought by no means to be 
 rejected. He seems to me to have a very just view of 
 what good may be derived from great connections ; and 
 from his having had so much experience of high life, he 
 is not dazzled by it. If a man can associate with the 
 great, and escape from "folly, vanity, and vice," there 
 is no doubt that his manners and even sentiments will 
 be refined and elevated ; and the probable hopes of solid 
 advantages, to be obtained from the regard of those who 
 must have influence in the disposal of ofiices, which 
 must be given in general as they desire, afford a rational 
 ground for perseverance in cultivating their friendship 
 by all honourable means. 
 
 If then we can be sure of ;/^500 a year, and have 
 besides such hopes, I really think it would be unreason- 
 able to object as to circumstances. But, my dear 
 friend, let us have a certainty of _^ 5 00, or even ;^400 
 
 * That is " very malevolent." Vide letter at page 233.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 277 
 
 a year. Your daughter is so amiable and accomplished, 
 that I should take a sincere interest in her happiness, 
 though she had not the strong claim of being my 
 Temple's daughter. 
 
 Your kindness to me fairly makes me shed tears. 
 Alas ! I fear that my constitutional melancholy, which 
 returns in such dismal fits, and is now aggravated by 
 the loss of my valuable wife, must prevent me from 
 any permanent felicity in this life. I snatch gratifica- 
 tions, but have no comfort, at least very little ; yet your 
 encouraging letters make me think at times that I may 
 yet, by God's blessing, attain to a portion of happiness, 
 such as philosophy and religion concur in assuring us 
 that this state of progressive being allows. I get bad 
 rest in the night, and then I brood over all my com- 
 plaints, — the sickly mind, which 1 have had from my 
 early years, — the disappointment of my hopes of success 
 in life, — the irrevocable separation between me and that 
 excellent woman, who was my cousin, my friend, and 
 my wife, — the embarrassment of my aft-'airs, — the disad- 
 vantage to my children in having so wretched a father, 
 — nay, the want of absolute certainty of being happy 
 after death, the sure prospect of which is frightful. No 
 more of this ! 
 
 Wednesday, 6ik April. 
 Thus far I wrote on Saturday, when, feeling myself 
 unhappy and restless, I sallied out with intention to go 
 to the Play at Drury Lane Theatre, the " Siege of Bel- 
 grade," a new Opera, of which I had heard much as a 
 gay exhibition ; but the House was so crowded I could 
 not get in. I then called on old Macklin, the come- 
 dian,* whom I found with a mind active and cheerful, 
 
 * Referred to in the " Life of Johnson," as having instructed 
 Wedderburn in elocution.
 
 2/8 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 in his ninety-second or third year. I could not but 
 wonder, while he related theatrical stories sixty years old, 
 and gave me an animated sketch of another Comedy in 
 five Acts, which he has now finished and will come out 
 next year. Here sat I, forty years younger than him, 
 listless and desponding, and unable to rid my mind of a 
 disagreeable sensation, as if I had been sitting in Edin- 
 burgh. I really, my dear Temple, believe that as much 
 pain may be sufi^ered from antipathies as from almost 
 any cause. Would it not torture you to be again at 
 Professor Hunter's, eating yV^//^ The possibility of a 
 disturbed imagination reducing me to the mode of exist- 
 ence in my youth frightens me. Alas 1 what real 
 advances have I made above that state ? How delusive 
 is this low-spirited thought ! But indeed 1 much fear 
 that to a speculating and very feeling mind, all that life 
 affords will at times appear of no effect. When I recall 
 the infinite variety of scenes through which I have 
 passed, in my moments of sound sensation, I am elated ; 
 but in moments of depression, I either forget them all, 
 or they seem indifferent. 
 
 My " Life of Johnson" is at last drawing to a close. 
 I am correcting the last sheet, and have only to write 
 an advertisement, to make out a note of Errata, and to 
 correct a second sheet of Contents, one being done. 
 I really hope to publish it on the 25th current. My 
 old and most intimate friend may be sure that a copy 
 will be sent to him. I am at present in such bad spirits 
 that I have every fear concerning it, — that I may get 
 no profit, nay, may lose, — that the Public may be dis- 
 appointed, and think that I have done it poorly, — that 
 I may make many enemies, and even have quarrels. 
 Yet perhaps the very reverse of all this may happen. 
 
 When my book is launched, I shall, if I am alone 
 and in tolerable health and spirits, have some furniture
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 279 
 
 put into my chambers in the Temple, and force myself 
 to sit there some hours a day, and to attend regularly 
 in Westminster Hall. The chambers cost me ^20 
 yearly, and I may reckon furniture and a lad to attend 
 there occasionally ^20 more. I doubt whether I shall get 
 fees equal to the expense. I am to dine with Sir William 
 Scott, the King's Advocate at the Commons, to-morrow, 
 and shall have a serious consultation with him, as he has 
 always encouraged me. It is to be a family party, 
 where I am to meet Miss Bagnal (his lady's sister), who 
 may probably have six or seven hundred a year. She 
 is about seven and twenty, and he tells me lively and 
 gay — a Ranelagh girl — but of excellent principles, inso- 
 much that she reads prayers to the servants in her 
 father's family every Sunday evening. '* Let me see 
 such a woman," cried I ; and accordingly I am to see 
 her. She has refused young and fine gentlemen. 
 " Bravo ! " cried I ; "we see then what her taste is." 
 Here then I am, my Temple, my flattering self! A 
 scheme — an adventure seizes my fancy. Perhaps I may 
 not like her ; and what should I do with such a com- 
 panion, unless she should really take a particular liking 
 to me, which is surely not probable ; and, as I am 
 conscious of my distempered mind, could I honestly 
 persuade her to unite her fate with mine i As to my 
 daughters, did I see a rational prospect of good by such 
 a scheme, I should not neglect it on their account, 
 though 1 should certainly be liberal to them. They 
 have twice had little parties for cards and music, and 
 have done wonderfully well. Hawkins was with us 
 both times. 
 
 What a horrible rumour of war is this ! To join the 
 Turks ! — it must not be. But perhaps some good may 
 arise from Pitt's arrogance. There may be another 
 navy promotion, and your son may get rank. I am
 
 28o LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 hesitating whether I should not write one of my 
 characteristical pamphlets upon this crisis, — " An 
 Appeal to the People upon the threatened Project of 
 involving this Country in a War with Russia, in order 
 to assist the Turks." * 
 
 "Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, 
 The arm'd rhynoceros, or Hyrcanian tyger : 
 Take any shape but that." 
 
 I am thinking to curtail my poem on the Slave 
 Trade, and throw it into the world just before the great 
 question comes on next Wednesday.f 
 
 Pray let me know the subject of your intended pub- 
 lication. Worthy Langton is in town. 
 
 Your little friend James is quite reconciled to West- 
 minster School, is grown a manly fellow : he^ I trust, 
 will be a prosperous barrister. 
 
 There is no foundation for the match between Miss 
 Palmer and Dr. B. : she is angry at me for talking of 
 it, but I was only one of many. Best compliments and 
 love to all with you. Let me hear more about Mr. 
 Powlett. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 J. B. 
 
 * Alas ! this " characteristical pamphlet " was never written — 
 otherwise, it might have been reprinted by the late Emperor of All 
 the Russias, besides being put into the Appendix to this Volume. 
 It might also have been copied or cited as an Authority by some 
 journals of the present day. 
 
 t This, it is believed, was never published.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 1791-1793 
 
 Publication of the *' Life of fohnson " — A second " Odyssey " — 
 Advertisements — The Home Circuit — Its superiority to the Northern 
 — Netu matrimonial schemes — Sir Joshua Reynolds' Blindness — 
 yourney to Auchinleck — Choice of a minister for a parish — Second 
 Edition of the " Life of fohnson " — Boswell intoxicated^ robbed 
 
 and repentant. 
 
 The magnum opus^ the "Life of Johnson," was now launched. 
 The date of the dedication to Sir Joshua Reynolds is the 
 20th April, 1791. This and the "Advertisements" to the 
 two editions of the work are curiously self-complaisant, not- 
 withstanding the occasional evil forebodings which harassed the 
 biographer. " It seems," says Boswell, " in my moments of 
 self-complacency, that this extensive biographical work, how- 
 ever inferior in its nature, may in one respect be assimilated to 
 the 'Odyssey.' Amidst a thousand entertaining and instructive 
 episodes, the hero is never long out of sight, for they are all 
 in some degree connected with him ; and he, in the whole 
 course of the history, is exhibited by the author for the best 
 advantage of his readers : 
 
 ' Quid virtus et quid sapientia possit, 
 Utile proposuit nobis exemplar Ulyssem.' 
 
 Should there be any cold-blooded or morose mortals who really 
 dislike this book, I will give them a story to apply. When the 
 great Duke of Marlborough, accompanied by Lord Cadogan, 
 was one day reconnoitring the army in Flanders, a heavy 
 rain came on, and they both called for their cloaks. Lord 
 
 281
 
 282 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Cadogan's servant, a good-humoured, alert lad, brought his 
 Lordship's in a minute ; the Duke's servant, a lazy, sulky 
 dog, was so sluggish, that his Grace, being wet to the skin, 
 reproved him, and had for an answer, with a grunt, ' I came 
 as fast as I could ' ; upon which the Duke calmly said, 
 ' Cadogan ! I would not for a thousand pounds have that 
 fellow's temper.' " * 
 
 Thus summarily Boswell disposes of hostile critics. It was 
 not necessary for him, however, to fear them, for the success of 
 his great Biography was immediate. He tells us, indeed, that in 
 four months twelve hundred copies were disposed of — a number 
 certainly very considerable in those days. 
 
 In July 1793 the second edition appeared, with "eight sheets 
 of additional matter." This was a cause of great delight to 
 Boswell, and he expresses his satisfaction in a very characteristic 
 manner. He says : " There are some men, I believe, who have, 
 or think they have, a very small share of vanity. Such may 
 speak of their literary fame in a decorous style of diffidence : 
 but I confess that I am so formed by nature and by habit, that 
 to restrain the effusionof delight, on having obtained such fame, 
 to me would be truly painful. Why then should I suppress it ? 
 Why ' out of the abundance of the heart' should 1 not speak ? 
 Let me then mention, with a warm, but no insolent exultation, 
 that I have been regaled with spontaneous praise of my work by 
 many and various persons, eminent for their rank, learning, 
 talents, and accomplishments ; much of which praise I have 
 under their hands, to be reposited in my archives at Auchinleck. 
 An honourable and reverend friend, speaking of the favourable 
 reception of my volumes, even in the circles of fashion and 
 elegance, said to me, ' You have made them all talk Johnson.' 
 Yes, I may add, I have yohnsonizcd the land ; and I trust they 
 will not only talk, but think Johnson." f 
 
 The unfortunate habit of drinking, which seems at this time 
 to have had firm hold of Boswell, was the cause of his meeting 
 with an accident and being robbed, which led, however, only to 
 his making another of his many but fruitless resolutions to 
 reform and live soberly. 
 
 * Advertisement to Second Edition of " Life of Johnson," 
 t Advertisement to Second Edition, ist July, 1793 ; and see ante^ 
 p. 272.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 283 
 
 go] London, iiftd August, I79i« 
 
 My dear Temple, — Do not look upon me as un- 
 kind, because you have not heard from me for some 
 time. My heart has been ever warm, but I have 
 had my spirits dissipated ; and now I write at mid- 
 night, on the eve of setting out for Auchinleck. My 
 eldest son went thither, some time ago, to enjoy 
 the grouse-shooting : I trusted him alone, as he is a 
 steady boy. 
 
 I have gone the full round of the Home Circuit, to 
 which I have returned, finding it much more pleasant,* 
 and, though I did not get a single brief, do not repent 
 of the expense, as I am showing myself desirous of 
 business and imbibing legal knowledge. I made an 
 excursion to Portsmouth and viewed the grand fleet, 
 and there I was assured that the most difficult step in 
 the Navy is from Midshipman to Lieutenant. My 
 
 * The distinction here made between the Northern and Home 
 Circuits, and in favour of the latter, will not, it is to be hoped, 
 produce any ill feeling between the two august bodies. From 
 anxious inquiries which have been made with reference to the com- 
 parison here suggested by Boswell, the conclusion has been arrived 
 at, that the Home Circuit still maintains, in addition to its high 
 legal reputation, that gravity, decorum, and sobriety (especially 
 amongst the juniors) which impressed Boswell so forcibly. It is 
 stated that even at the Mess on " grand days," which might offer 
 occasion for greater freedom and conviviality, nothing is to be heard 
 except abstruse legal questions formally and reverently discussed, or 
 important points connected with social and legislative matters 
 learnedly and temperately debated. It should, however, be also 
 here mentioned that it is stated on other authority that the very 
 reverse of the above account is, and always has been, the truth. It 
 is not incumbent upon the writer of this note to determine what the 
 facts are ; but he may suggest that the variation in the information 
 may in part have arisen from the different periods of the evening at 
 which the gentlemen who have been good enough to communicate 
 with the publisher on the subject were wont to leave the mess-table. 
 — Ed.
 
 284 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 first letter to Dundas, concerning your son, was re- 
 peating my words to you, that 1 was afraid he did not 
 like me (or something to that eiFect), but that I believed 
 him to be a generous fellow, and therefore advised you 
 to apply to him. I mentioned to you how cordially 
 he expressed himself towards your son when I saw him, 
 and that he was to make a memorandum. I transmitted 
 to him, from the Circuit, your last letter in one from 
 myself, and I cannot doubt of his sincerity and zeal 
 when an occasion offers. What a life have Midship- 
 men ! yet all our Admirals have passed through it.* 
 
 I feel for what you say as to a certain person ; but 
 trust it was a casual cloud. Mr. Powlett has never 
 appeared : I shall be glad to see him. 
 
 Tou musl know I have had several matrimonial schemes 
 of late. I shall amuse you with them from Auchinleck. 
 One was with Miss Milles, daughter of the late Dean of 
 Exeter, a most agreeable woman " d'un certain age," 
 and with a fortune of ^f 10,000 : she has left town for 
 the summer. It was no small circumstance that she 
 said to me, " Mr. Temple is a charming man." I hope 
 to be here again on the ist of October. My magnum 
 opus sells wonderfully ; twelve hundred are now gone, 
 and we hope the whole seventeen hundred may be gone 
 before Christmas. I must go to bed. 
 
 Ever most affectionately yours 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 91] London, iznd November, 1791. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Another sad chasm in our 
 correspondence is to be lamented. I wrote to you 
 before I went to Scotland : since then I have not 
 heard from you, except by receiving a few lines with an 
 
 * An original and very comforting reflection, both for Admirals 
 and Midshipmen !
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 285 
 
 order to receive the title-deeds of Allardeen. Pray 
 what would you have done about that matter, as my 
 visit to you cannot be for a long time ? 
 
 I had a very unhappy time in Ayrshire. My house 
 at Auchinleck seemed deserted and melancholy ; and 
 it brought upon my mind, with increased force, the re- 
 collection of my having lost my dear and valuable wife. 
 My London spirits were soon exhausted ; I sank into 
 languor and gloom ; I felt myself very unfit to trans- 
 act business with my tenants, or indeed with anybody. 
 To escape from what I felt at Auchinleck, I visited a 
 good deal, but alas ! I could not escape from myself : 
 in short you may see that I was exceedingly ill. I 
 hoped to be relieved when I got to London ; but my 
 depression of spirits has continued ; and still, though 
 I go into jovial scenes, I feel no pleasure in existence, 
 except the mere gratification of the senses. Oh, my 
 friend, this is sad ! 
 
 I have imagined that I was quite unable to write a 
 letter. I was glad to find that there was warmth 
 enough remaining about my heart to animate me to 
 answer, in two posts, an anxious letter which I re- 
 ceived from your son, on his return from Newfound- 
 land. Poor fellow ! 1 sincerely feel for his situation, 
 of v/hich (as I mentioned to him) f have a stronger 
 impression since passing a day and a night on board of 
 Captain Macbride's ship, in the grand fleet, last sum- 
 mer. I have assured your son that I shall not fail to 
 remind Mr. Dundas of his kind promise. What more 
 can be done ^ 
 
 My spirits have been still more sunk by seeing Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds almost as low as myself. He has, for 
 more than two months past, had a pain in his blind 
 eye, the effect of which has been to occasion a weak- 
 ness in the other, and he broods over the dismal appre-
 
 286 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 hension of becoming quite blind. He has been kept 
 so low as to diet that he is quite relaxed and despond- 
 ing. He who used to be looked upon as perhaps the 
 most happy man in the world, is now as 1 tell you. 
 I force myself to be a great deal with him, to do what 
 is in my power to amuse him. Your friend Miss 
 Palmer's assiduity and attention to him in every respect 
 is truly charming. 
 
 Am I to hear no more of Miss Temple's lover ? I 
 keep chambers open in the Temple, I attend in West- 
 minster Hall, but there is not the least prospect of my 
 having business. 
 
 This is a desponding, querulous letter, which I have 
 wished these several weeks to write. Pray try to do 
 me some good. My daughters join me in best com- 
 pliments, and I ever am 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 92] London, 29/^ March, 1792. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Still I cannot write a long 
 letter, though I got a frank yesterday on purpose from 
 the Bishop of London. I had this morning the 
 pleasure of Mr. Powlett's company at breakfast, and 
 like him much. He is to take a part of our family 
 dinner on Sunday. 
 
 I ever am 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 93] London, z6tk February, 1793. 
 
 My dear Temple, — I have no time now for our 
 usual reflections on wretched dilatory habits. I have from 
 day to day been uneasy that I did not answer your kind
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 287 
 
 letters; and now I am within a few hours of setting 
 out for Auchinleck, honest David having secured me a 
 place in the Carlisle coach to Ferry Bridge, that I may 
 have an opportunity to stop should I be too much 
 fatigued. It is quite right that I should now go down. 
 The choice of a minister to a worthy parish is a matter 
 of very great importance, and I cannot be sure of the 
 real wishes of the people without being present. Only 
 think, Temple, how serious a duty I am about to dis- 
 charge ! I, James Boswell, Esq. — you know what 
 vanity that name includes ! — I have promised to come 
 down on purpose, and his Honour's goodness is grate- 
 fully acknowledged. Besides, I have several matters 
 of consequence to my estate to adjust ; and though the 
 journey will no doubt be uncomfortable, and my being 
 alone in that house, where once I was so happy, be 
 dreary in a woful degree, the consciousness of duty, 
 and being busy, will I hope support me. I shall write 
 to you, my friend, from my Seat. I am to be there 
 only about three weeks ; for I return early in April, to 
 appear in an Appeal before the House of Lords, and to 
 publish the second edition of my " Life of Johnson," 
 for which I have lately received some more additions 
 of great value. 
 
 Meantime I send you, from Payne's catalogue, small 
 edition of Brumoy, '* Theatre des Grecs ; " Thornton's 
 " Plautus " (I forget the price — they are above £/\. 4J.) ; 
 also, Horsley's (Bishop of St. David's) Sermon ; Hay's 
 ditto ; " Village," a poem, by the same author ; " The 
 Library," a poem, as suited to your present zeal ; and 
 a letter to Fox, reckoned the best pamphlet that has 
 appeared for some time. 
 
 From myself please to receive. Print of Dr. John- 
 son ; two numbers of " European Magazine," containing 
 memoirs of your friend ; an excellent little tract on
 
 288 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 Contentment, by Dr. Paley. I can add no more now, 
 but that I ever am 
 
 Most afFectionately yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 94] London, 21st June, 1793. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Behold my hand ! The robbery 
 is only of a few shillings ; but the cut on my head and 
 the bruises on my arms were sad things, and confined 
 me to bed, in pain and fever and helplessness, as a 
 child, many days. By means of Surgeon Earle and 
 Apothecary Devaynes, I am now, I thank God, pretty 
 well. This however shall be a crisis in my life : I trust 
 I shall henceforth be a sober, regular man. Indeed, 
 my indulgence in wine has, of late years especially, been 
 excessive. You remember what Lord Eliot said, nay, 
 what you, I am sorry to think, have seen. Your sug- 
 gestion as to my being carried off in a state of intoxica- 
 tion is awful. I thank you for it, my dear friend. It 
 impressed me much, I assure you. 
 
 Your somewhat mysterious letter (without a date) 
 alarmed me, but not greatly ; because, though I guess 
 what you mean, I have confidence in your good sense 
 and spirit. You have had experience of such tender 
 folly, and, after it was past, have been sensible how weak 
 it was. I am at the same time aware that a new instance 
 seems stronger than any former one, and therefore gives 
 us trouble, unless we call in reason to our relief. /, who 
 have often been the victim of such feverishness, know 
 that the best cure is diversion ; and therefore, if you 
 find the complaint obstinate, remove from St. Gluvias 
 for a time, and dissipate yourself in some place where 
 you can have variety. But I conjure you to send me a 
 promise that you will not act without my consent.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 289 
 
 I will do what I can as to John James and Octavius. 
 I have good interest at Eton, and shall be there soon. 
 
 Sir Kit shall be applied to for a safe conveyance of 
 your deeds. 
 
 The printer is very slow with my second edition : I 
 hope to have it out next week. The additions (above 
 eight sheets) shall be sent to you. My Continental tour 
 is to hold. 
 
 I ever am, my dear Temple, 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 95] London, 14//^ October, 1793. 
 
 My dear Temple, — Your kind letter on your return 
 home was truly consolatory to me. I have, as a salvo 
 for my indolent procrastination, thought of waiting till 
 the long letter which you promised a few days afterwards 
 should come, so that I might answer both at a time ; but 
 I can no longer defer sending you at least a token that 
 I am alive, and that my affectionate regard for you is 
 constant. My spirits are somewhat better, but by no 
 means right yet. The day after you left us a nephew 
 of my wife's, a most deserving young man, who has been 
 fifteen years an officer in the East India Company's 
 service, almost continually in the field, and yet only a 
 subaltern, arrived unexpectedly, having been obliged to 
 come home on account of bad health ; he has been very 
 unfortunate ; for he has been three times obliged to quit 
 the country by reason of the dangerous liver complaint, 
 and this last time he lost a very profitable appointment 
 of Muster-Master to the Southern Army ; he has not 
 acquired above ;^3000, but, by succession, has about 
 ;^6ooo more ; and after such repeated warnings, he 
 must not return to a climate so hostile to his health.
 
 290 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 He is now quite recovered by change of climate. Such, 
 my dear friend, are the disappointments to which poor 
 mortals are subject. I do not wonder at Franky s impa- 
 tience and piteous letters ; but I find that lieutenants 
 are made only as they are wanted for particular ships. 
 I trust that, after what Dundas said to you, your son 
 cannot fail to be nominated soon, and that before he 
 sails. 
 
 I congratulate you on the removal of your trouble- 
 some guests. What a shocking thing was it to treat 
 poor Octavius as they did ! You see, when love is in the 
 case, other affections give way in a daughter. You must 
 consider your own happiness, my dear friend, while you 
 do liberal duty to your children, as I am sure you will do. 
 This is my own resolution ; and were I to see a proper 
 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 much that you think so well of my 
 daughters ; and in truth, when my judgment is clear and 
 my temper not irritated, I think of them as you do. 
 
 My brother has had a letter from John James, — 
 much 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 affectionately, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 P.S. — Best compliments from my daughters and 
 James,
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 1794-1795 
 
 Indisposition — French Revolution — Intemperance and remorse — 
 Serious Illness — Letters from Bosw ell's son and brother — BosweWs 
 
 death. 
 
 In a letter to his father (April the 8th, 1795) the younger 
 Mr. Temple, after acknowledging the kindness which Miss 
 Boswell and her sister had shown him, proceeds to mention 
 that "a few nights ago Mr. Boswell returned from the 
 Literary Club quite weak and languid." He however re- 
 covered 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 hand- 
 writing. The last letter he had from Boswell, before his 
 final illness, is as follows : — 
 
 ""J 
 
 96] London, $ist May, 1794. 
 
 My dear .Temple, — Your fall has suggested 
 serious and anxious thoughts indeed. In a moment, 
 that awful separation which we so much 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 
 appeared better if you had divided them by two 
 posts ; but Courtenay is very good, as a 'private 
 
 291
 
 292 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 friend^ and, as he lives very near me, I get my letters 
 very speedily.* 
 
 You have taken great pains in reading and tran- 
 scribing such a number of Illustrations, which are 
 truly strong warnings against the horrible proceedings 
 in France. But Mr. 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 ; 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 appeared, 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 Cornish 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. 
 
 I thank you sincerely for your friendly admonition 
 on my frailty in indulging so much in wine. I do 
 resolve anew 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 
 
 * Mr. Courtenay's franks frequently appear on Boswell's letters.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 293 
 
 means as having the extraordinary strong claims on 
 the Admiral. The ;/^40 annuity will, I doubt not, be 
 certain. The post-bell rings. 
 
 Yours ever, 
 
 J. B. 
 
 971 
 
 My dear Temple, — I would fain write to you in 
 my own hand, but really cannot. [These words, 
 which are hardly legible, aid probably the last poor 
 Boswell 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 I 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 conviction that I 
 was by no means as I should be — so exceedingly weak, 
 as my miserable attempt to write to you afforded a 
 full proof All then that can be said is, that I must 
 wait with patience. 
 
 But, O my friend ! how strange is it that, at this 
 very time of my illness, you and Miss Temple should 
 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, 
 frequently. I feel myself a good deal stronger to-day, 
 notwithstanding 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 : —
 
 294 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 to-day he has been somewhat better, and we trust 
 that the nourishment 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 8th, 1795, is also annexed to the 
 above, as follows : — 
 
 Reverend Sir, — My father being still unable to 
 write, I again give you 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 surgeon, 
 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. Being anxious 
 that his friend Temple should hear from him, he directs his son 
 James to write, which he does to the following effect : —
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 295 
 
 Great Portland Street, 
 
 17//5 April, 17951 
 
 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 confined 
 
 to bed ever since. He thinks himself better to-day, 
 
 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 conquered, and there remains 
 but Httle 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 swelling 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 will be remembered. Dr. Johnson on 
 his deathbed. 
 
 The two following letters tell the concluding part of the 
 sad story : — 
 
 Moz/rt^j;, iS/z^Mri-j?, 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 
 
 urgeon, thought it might be done with safety; but his 
 
 trength was not equal to it, and he fainted away. 
 
 ince that, he has been in a very bad way indeed,
 
 296 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 and there are now, I fear, little or no hopes of his 
 recovery. 
 
 I am, dear Sir, 
 
 With greatest respect, yours, etc. 
 
 James Boswell (Jun.). 
 
 London, i<^tk May, 1795. 
 My dear Sir, — I have now the painful task of 
 informing you that my dear brother expired this morn- 
 ing 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 daughters 
 have behaved in a 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. D. Boswell. 
 
 The remains of Boswell were removed to Auchinleck to be 
 interred. On his coffin-plate was inscribed 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. 
 
 * The date assigned to his birth is October 29th, 1740.
 
 TO W. J. TEMPLE 297 
 
 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 which 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 unfortunately subject.
 
 ADDITIONAL LETTERS 
 
 It has been already noticed [in the original Introduction] 
 that Boswell carried on and published a humorous corre- 
 spondence with the Hon. Andrew Erskine.* Some specimens 
 of this are here subjoined. The Advertisement to the Volume 
 containing these Epistles sets forth, as the grounds for their 
 publication, the universal " curiosity " which prevails with re- 
 gard to reading other people's letters. The main reasons 
 however for reprinting some of them now are, that they are 
 both funny and illustrative, in some degree, of one portion of 
 the minor literature of the last century. 
 
 Captain Erskine, as well as his correspondent, affected litera- 
 ture, 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. 
 
 The correspondence between Erskine and Boswell is com- 
 menced by the latter, as follows : — 
 
 AUCHINLECK, August 25th, 1 76 1. 
 
 Dear Erskine, — No ceremony, I beseech you 1 
 Give me your hand. How is my honest Captain 
 Andrew } How goes it with the elegant, gentle Lady 
 
 A .f* the lovely, sighing Lady Jane ? and how, 
 
 oh, how, does that glorious luminary Lady B do ? 
 
 You see I retain my usual volatility. The Boswells, 
 
 * See also page 13. 
 298
 
 TO ERSKINE 299 
 
 you know, came over from Normandy with William 
 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 bagatelle I is the maxim. A light 
 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 Shen- 
 stone's Pastoral on Absence, the tenderness and sim- 
 plicity 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 know 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 
 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 furnish 
 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 metaphorical 
 sense, but I would rather choose to be understood 
 literally. I am 
 
 Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 * 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.
 
 300 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 From Erskine to Boswell. 
 
 Kelly, September nth, 1761. 
 
 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 fires ! 
 
 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 like our friend Auchinleck, the cutler." 
 
 A Poet, Sir, whose fame is to support, 
 
 Must ne'er write verses tripping, pert, and short : 
 
 Who ever saw a judge himself disgrace, 
 
 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, 
 and 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 great rewards ! 
 Our eyes behold you glow with martial flame. 
 Our ears attend the never-ceasing theme. 
 Fast 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 ! 
 
 * 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 and adventures of the 
 Metropolis.
 
 TO ERSKINE 301 
 
 You kindly took me up, an awkward cub, 
 And introduced me to the Soaping Club,* 
 Where, every Tuesday-eve, our ears are blest 
 With genuine humour and with genuine jest ; 
 The voice of mirth 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 f roars forth Snip, and Bainbridge Snap ? t 
 Tell me how I your favours may return ; 
 With thankfulness and gratitude I burn. 
 I've one advice, — oh, take it, I implore ! 
 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 shall stare, 
 And hail you as a god, and call you fair : 
 Your blooming beauty shall unrivall'd shine, 
 And Captain Andrew's J whiteness yield to thine. 
 
 In reality I'm under vast obligations to you. It was 
 you who first made me thoroughly sensible (indeed, 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 your letter, because I know you have 
 an aversion at being thought a genius or a wit. The 
 reluctance with which you always repeat your Cub,§ 
 and the gravity of countenance which you always 
 
 * The Soaping Club — a club in Edinburgh, the motto of which 
 was, " Every man soap his own beard; or, Everyman indulge his 
 own humour." Their game was that facetious one, " Snip, Snap, 
 Snorum." 
 
 t Barclay and Bainbridge, two members of this Club. 
 
 J The writers of these Letters, instead of being rivals in wit, were 
 rivals in complexion, 
 
 § A poem, ode, or perhaps "piece" of Boswell's composition.
 
 302 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 humourous letter-writer I know ; and that 
 you have a finer complexion, and dance better, than 
 any man of my acquaintance. For my part, I actually 
 think you would make an excellent Champion at the 
 approaching Coronation. 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, when 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 
 
 * Auchinleck.
 
 TO ERSKINE 303 
 
 jovial. What a solemn idea rushes on my mind ! 
 They are all gone : I must follow. Well, and what 
 then ? Let me shift about to another subject. The 
 best I can think of is a sound sleep : so good night ! 
 and believe me yours, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 New Tarbat, Nov. 23, 1761. 
 Dear Boswell, — As we never hear that Demos- 
 thenes could broil beefsteaks, or Cicero poach eggs, 
 we may safely conclude that these gentlemen under- 
 stood nothing of cookery. In like 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 quintessence of solidity ; 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 skull, and be very cautious in your manner of 
 tumbling down precipices ; beware of falling into coal- 
 pits, 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 
 momentary indeed, but very necessary to be strictly 
 observed. Go not near the Soaping Club ; never 
 mention Drury 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 
 
 * Boswell had, as has been already seen, a great fondness for dress, 
 which he has thus defended. " It has been certainly remarked that
 
 304 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 we 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 over- 
 shadowing my paper, my hands trembHng, and my 
 tongue hanging 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 muddy, 
 More than a brilliant belle polemic study. 
 More than fat FalstafF 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 
 Tarbat * from you. That you may not appear totally 
 ridiculous and absurd, 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 
 
 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 fine clothes " {Hypochondriac 
 Papers). — Boswell, who was, it is said, partial to witnessing execu- 
 tions, might have noted the same passion in certain desperate 
 scoundrels at Tyburn. 
 
 * New Tarbat, a wild seat in the Western Highlands of Scotland 
 surrounded with mountains.
 
 TO ERSKINE 305 
 
 seen in this charmino; retreat. The castle is of Gothic 
 structure, awful and lofty ; there are fifty bedchambers 
 in it, with halls, saloons, and galleries without number. 
 
 Mr. M 's father, who was a man of infinite humour, 
 
 caused a magnificent 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 dozen people. 
 The room which I am writing in just now is in reality 
 a handsome parlour of twenty feet by sixteen, though 
 in my eyes and to all outward appearance it seems a 
 garret of six feet by four. The magnificent lake is 
 a dirty puddle, the lovely plain a rude, wild country 
 covered with the most astonishing high black moun- 
 tains ; 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 delicate limbs, 
 adorned with finest silk stockings, are now bare and 
 very dirty ; but to describe all the transformations 
 
 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 
 
 u
 
 3o6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 make you acquainted with it. You know I am really 
 very thick and short, prodigiously talkative, and won- 
 derfully impudent : now I am thin and tall, strangely 
 silent, and very bashful. If these things continue, 
 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 
 me advise you to learn it. The first cost is but three- 
 halfpence, and they last a long time. I have composed 
 the following Ode upon it, which exceeds Pindar as 
 much as the Jew's-harp does the organ. 
 
 Ode upon a Jew's-Harp. 
 
 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 cliffs 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, 
 
 All 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.
 
 TO ERSKINE 307 
 
 III 
 
 Roused 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 entertain- 
 ing 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. 
 
 Edinburgh, Dec. 2, 176 1. 
 Dear Erskine, — Notwithstanding of your affecting 
 elegy on the death of two pigs, I am just now returned 
 from eating a most excellent one with the most magni- 
 ficent Donaldson. I wish you would explain to me 
 the reason of my being so very hard-hearted as to dis- 
 cover 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 our 
 keenest penetration : at the same time give me leave to 
 offer my conjecture, which you may have by a little 
 transmutation of a vulgar adage, in such manner as to 
 obtain 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."
 
 3o8 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 I do assure you, the imperial sovereign of Pope's 
 Head, Caledonian Dodsley, Scottish Baskerville, and 
 Captain-General of Collective Bards, entertained us 
 most sumptuously. I question much if Captain Erskine 
 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 
 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 
 would call splendidum prandium^ — Englished 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 wonderful en- 
 chantments which you relate, the sagacious advices 
 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 any- 
 thing that you wish to say, and believe me 
 
 Yours, 
 James Boswell. 
 
 P.S.~- Are you not very proud of your Ode to Mid-
 
 TO ERSKINE 309 
 
 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. 
 
 Hail, Gluttony ! Oh let me eat 
 Immensely at thy awful board. 
 On which to serve the stomach meet. 
 What art and nature can aftbrd. 
 I'll furious cram, devoid of fear, 
 Let but the roast and boil'd appear : 
 Let me but sea 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 victuals float ! 
 
 II 
 
 And yet why trust a greasy cook, 
 
 Or give to meat the time of play, 
 While every trout gulps down a hook, 
 
 And poor dumb beasts arch butchers slay ? 
 Why seek the dull, sauce-smelling gloom 
 Of the beef-haunted dining-room ; 
 Where D — r gives to every guest. 
 With liberal hand whate'er is best ; 
 While you in vain th' insurance must invoke 
 To give security you shall not choke I 
 
 Edinburgh, December 8, 1761. 
 Dear Erskine, — It is a very strange thing that I, 
 James Boswell, Esq., "who am happily possessed of a 
 facility of manners " (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 I should 
 ever be at a loss how to express myself ; and yet, at 
 
 * Lord Kellie.
 
 310 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 this moment of my existence, that is really the case. 
 
 May Lady B say unto me, " Boswell, I detest 
 
 thee ! " if I am not in downright earnest. 
 
 Mankind are such a perverse race of beings, that they 
 never fail to lay hold of every circumstance tending to 
 their own praise, while they let slip every circumstance 
 tending to their censure. To illustrate this by a recent 
 example : you 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 think much resembles 
 a pair of ill-mended breeches. 
 
 Having a mind, Erskine, to open a sluice of happiness 
 upon you, I must inform you that I have lately got you 
 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 correspondent. I thought I did 
 not envy you a bit ; and yet, I don't know, I felt some- 
 how as if I could like to thrash you pretty heartily ; 
 however, I have one comfort in thinking that all this 
 praise would not have availed you a single curl of Sir 
 Cloudesly Shovel's periwig, had not I generously re- 
 ported 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. 
 
 Lady B entreats me to come and pass the Christ- 
 mas holidays with her. Guess, O guess ! what transport 
 I felt at reading that ; I did not know how to contain 
 
 * These volumes of poems by Scotch gentlemen have been men- 
 tioned [in the original Introduction].
 
 TO ERSKINE 311 
 
 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 handicraft 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 per- 
 mit 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 m.e, 
 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 evening. 
 
 Next day shall we both, in friendly guise, get into the 
 said chaise, and drive with velocity to your present 
 habitation, where I shall remain till the Monday 
 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- 
 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 journey- 
 ing 1 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
 
 312 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 back and be jolted through the mire, perhaps in wind 
 and rain, is a punishment too severe for all the 
 offences 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 per- 
 suade the world that it was owing to my having a 
 private amour with a lady of distinction in the Austrian 
 Court ; but that Minister was too deeply immersed in 
 State intrigues to know much about those of a more 
 tender nature. The tumultuous hurry of business and 
 ambition left no room in his mind for the delicious de- 
 licacy of sentiment and passion, so very essential to a 
 man of gallantry. 
 
 I think, Erskine, in this scheme of mine I am playing 
 a very sure game, for you must either indulge me 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 inconve- 
 nience ; indeed, I might have saved myself the trouble 
 of making this request, for you are that kind of man that 
 I believe 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 like 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
 
 TO ERSKINE 313 
 
 period, as I used to say : they bear some proportion to 
 the whole of life. Write instantly. 
 
 Sequel of the Ode to Gluttony. 
 
 Ill 
 
 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 unchewed bits. 
 He groans and nods his head by fits ; 
 His high-swoll'n cheeks, that were so red, 
 With egg-shell whiteness are o'erspread ; 
 Ah ! quickly thump his back, lest, for a boast. 
 Death from 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. 
 He, while he eyes the godlike haunch. 
 Rubs his rotundity of paunch ; 
 Which, 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.
 
 314 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 VI 
 
 And now, perhaps, the buxom wife 
 
 Of Vintner Thorn * consults her spouse, 
 How those who play the keenest knife, 
 She best may feast within her house. 
 She sees before her 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 purpose good, 
 To swallow monstrous quantities of food ! 
 
 New Tarbat, December 13, 1761. 
 Dear Boswell, — An Ode to Tragedy, by a gentle- 
 man of Scotland, and dedicated to you ! f had there 
 been only one spark of curiosity in my whole composi- 
 tion, 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, J 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. Tell me his genealogy, like 
 Mr. M ; how many miles he has travelled in post- 
 chaises, like Colonel R ; tell me what he eats, like 
 
 a cook ; what he drinks, like a wine-merchant ; what 
 
 * Thom, in whose house the Soaping Club was always held. 
 
 t This letter was occasioned by seeing an " Ode to Tragedy," 
 written by a gentleman of Scotland, and dedicated to James Boswell, 
 Esq., advertised in the Edinburgh newspapers : it afterwards appeared 
 that the Ode was written by Mr. Boswell himself. 
 
 X It may perhaps be permitted to mention that this " Ode 
 to Tragedy " was certainly neither worth two franks nor one 
 perusal.
 
 TO ERSKINE 315 
 
 shoes he wears, like a shoemaker ; in what manner his 
 mother was dehvered 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 uphol- 
 sterer, oh ! tell it me all in your manner, and in your 
 own incomparable 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 
 "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 brother A 
 
 and Lady A , both of whom have a notable com- 
 prehension 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
 
 3i6 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 Erskine was better entertained by the great 
 Donaldson than you was lately. Banish that opinion ; 
 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 making 
 love, and even you, O Boswell ! but these things I can 
 never forget ; the impression is too deep, too well im- 
 printed, 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, Boswell, 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 
 arrive at Glasgow on Monday evening the 28th of 
 December, 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
 
 TO ERSKINE 317 
 
 " Soap his own Beard ; " every other article of the pro- 
 posals will be executed as faithfully as this. But to 
 speak very seriously, you must be true to your appoint- 
 ment, and come with the utmost regularity upon the 
 Monday. Think of my emotions at Grasme's if you 
 should not come ; view my melancholy posture ! Hark ! 
 I rave like Lady Wishfort, — no Boswell yet ! Bos- 
 well'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'll 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 understanding. 
 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 
 quarto every fortnight, an octavo every week, and a 
 duodecimo every day. Hogarth has humorously repre- 
 
 * The Dr. Hill here referred to was probably the person who 
 called himself Sir John Hill, He was a very voluminous author, 
 chiefly on botanical subjects : his " Vegetable System " is in twenty- 
 six volumes folio. He also indulged in editing a scandalous news- 
 paper called the Inspector^ and was a rare example of science and 
 scoundrelism, of industry and quackery, being successfully combined 
 in one person.
 
 3i8 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 sented 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 Lidolence, which I have 
 lately written. Besides, it's fitting I reserve something 
 for you to peruse when we meet, for upon these occa- 
 sions 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 \']th, 1761. 
 
 Dear Erskine, — Had you but hinted a method of 
 conveyance sooner than by the first post, sooner should 
 the " Ode to Tragedy " 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 ! 
 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 efi'ects it must produce upon Captain Erskine
 
 TO ERSKINE 319 
 
 to find ill 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 
 excellent 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 
 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 
 Abbey 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
 
 320 LETTERS OF BOS WELL 
 
 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. 
 
 New Tarbat, December \6, 1761. 
 
 Dear Boswell, — Swift as pen can scratch, or ink 
 can flow, as floods can rush, or winds can blow, — 
 which, you'll 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 your epistle, which I 
 received this moment ; it is dated on Saturday, the 
 14th, which was really the I2th, according to the 
 computation of the best chronologists. This is a 
 blunder which Sir Isaac Newton 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 or conversa- 
 tion, even though that conversation should turn upon 
 the quickest and most pleasant method of swallow- 
 ing oysters, when you know I might very naturally 
 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 i^.^^ 
 days ; pray bring it with you.
 
 TO ERSKINE 321 
 
 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. 
 
 Pray now be faithful to this appointment, and so I 
 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 loth, 1762. 
 
 Dear Boswell, — Cicero, in his book of " Office- 
 houses," defines ingratitude 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 their 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 
 
 2C
 
 322 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 wit and humour from you, — a perfect Golconda mine 
 of diamonds. 
 
 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 
 sublime, 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 trembhng 
 with ecstasy ; but if I was to describe all my thoughts 
 you would think me absolutely mad. The beautiful 
 wildness 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, Beheve me, 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 Andrew Erskine. 
 
 Edinbvrgh, January ii, 1762. 
 
 Dear Erskine, — Instead of endeavouring to excuse 
 myself for neglecting so long to write, I shall present 
 you with some original conjectures of my own, upon
 
 TO ERSKINE 3.23 
 
 the way and manner in which you have been affected 
 on this present occasion. And here I must premise 
 that, in so doing, I shall not follow the formal and 
 orderly method 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 ingenious commentator on the epistolary corre- 
 spondence of the Hon. Andrew Erskine and James 
 Boswell, 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 burned, raged, and fried, like the thrice 
 amorous swain in the renowned English translation 
 of " Voi Amanti ; " and perhaps thundered forth all the 
 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 you 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 celebrated 
 Parson Brown of Carlisle says, — and he frequently is a
 
 324 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 little negligent ; but when he does write, ye gods, how 
 he does write 1 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 [is] 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 alto- 
 gether, which is not unfrequently 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 disso- 
 lution of our correspondence will immediately follow, 
 or dwindle 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 well satisfied. You was quite mistaken as 
 as to the manner I bore your silence ; I only thought 
 it was a little droll.
 
 TO ERSKINE 325 
 
 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 great deal 
 of prose in your poetry. He says, that as to your late 
 publication, there is a great deal of Ode in your Dedi- 
 cation, 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 prodigious 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 lire 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 occasion he writes like a 
 Christian and a poet, and a physician and an orator, 
 and a Jew. 
 
 Pray, Boswell, 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, Boswell, imitate me in your writing ; observe 
 how closely the lines are joined, how near the words 
 
 * Probably Mr. Dempster.
 
 326 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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, much 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 time 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 
 inscribed. 
 
 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 volume
 
 TO ERSKINE 327 
 
 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 miscellaneous col- 
 lection, even in that excellent one published by Mr. 
 Dodsley ? The truth is, that a volume printed in a 
 small type exhausts an infinite quantity of copy (to talk 
 technically), so that we must 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 superb, 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 solemn 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
 
 328 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 
 midnight 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 number 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 unmercifully. The 
 said Lamentation, you will find, is in verse, and, 
 although sold for a single penny, is a work of remark- 
 able merit. The exordium is a passionate address to 
 Captains all, amongst whom, who can more properly 
 be reckoned than Captain Andrew ? 
 
 I remain, your sincere friend, 
 
 James Boswell. 
 
 New Tarbat, May i, 1762. 
 
 Well then, my friend, you leave the Bar, 
 Resolved on drums, on dress, and war, 
 While Fancy paints in liveliest hues 
 Swords, sashes, shoulder-knots, reviews ;
 
 TO ERSKINE 329 
 
 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 ev'n the 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 green. 
 When every naked limb is seen. 
 And all without a blush reveal'd. 
 By modest maids with care conceal'd. 
 
 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 Macedon, 
 fairly scoured off, I think, at the battle of Cheronea ,
 
 330 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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, " 1 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 different times : some- 
 times I have taken you for the witches' cauldron in 
 " Macbeth," — this resemblance was in some degree 
 warranted 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, 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 
 
 " Appie 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
 
 TO ERSKINE 331 
 
 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. 1 am 
 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 undoubtedly 
 throw it into a lawn, and plant it with clumps of 
 trees ; she would vary it with fishponds, and render 
 it rural with flocks. Here, where I am writing, might
 
 332 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 a cow feed ; here might be an arbour ; 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 con- 
 clude, by the external impulse of the cloth's being 
 laid, and the internal impulse of being hungry. 
 Believe 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. 
 
 My fondness for the Guards must appear very 
 strange to you, who have a rooted antipathy at the 
 glare of scarlet. But 1 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 transitory state 
 of things. Every agreeable whim may be freely in- 
 dulged without censure. I hope however you will not 
 impute my living in England to the same cause for 
 which Hamlet was advised to go there, — because the 
 people were all as mad as himself.* 
 
 I long much for another of our long conversa- 
 tions on a fine forenoon after breakfast, while the 
 sun sheds light and gladness around us. Yours 
 sincerely, 
 
 James Bosvi^ell. 
 
 * "The earth is as thirsty as Boswell, and cracked all over 
 its surface, as certainly as he is in one part." (Letter of John 
 
 Wilkes.)
 
 TO ERSKINE 333 
 
 New Tarbat, May 25, 1762. 
 Dear Boswell, — It has been said that few people 
 succeed both in poetry and prose. Homer's prose 
 essay on the Gunpowder Plot is reckoned by all critics 
 inferior to the " Iliad," and Warburton's rhyming satire 
 on the Methodists is allowed by all to be superior to 
 his prosaical 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 have 
 a smack of verse, and my verse shall have a smack of 
 prose. I'll give you a specimen of both. My ser- 
 vant 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 your best breeches glares a mighty hole, 
 Your wash-ball and pomatum, Sir, are stole. 
 Your tailor, Sir, must payment have, that's plain ; 
 He called to-day, 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 is it 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-
 
 334 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 tea- 
 kettles of the ladies, and into the punchbowls of the 
 gentlemen." 
 
 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 
 naturally introduced. I am going to be very serious. 
 You will trace a resemblance between me and Sir 
 WiUiam Temple, or perhaps David Hume, Esq. 
 
 A modern writer must content himself with gleaning 
 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 poets saw in his walks every pleasant object of 
 nature undescribed ; his heart danced with the gale, 
 and his spirits shone with the invigorating 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 con- 
 ceits 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 so gently steal into our very
 
 TO ERSKINE 335 
 
 souls and involve us in the sweetest confusion, or whose 
 animating strains fire us even to madness. How ha? 
 the shore of Greece echoed with the wildest sounds ! 
 the deliciouswarblings 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 
 
 1 am, yours sincerely, 
 
 Andrew^ Erskine. 
 
 Kf-lly, July 6, 1762. 
 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 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 
 
 * A vessel with two masts.
 
 336 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 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 in his youth, is rent with lightning ; 
 and the girl on whom he had placed his early affec- 
 tions, 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 ; 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 
 penetration. ^le praises the "Mourning Bride" ex- 
 cessively; which nevertheless I can't help thinking a 
 very indiff^erent play: the plot wild and improbable, 
 and the language infinitely too high and swelling. 
 It is curious to see the opinions of the Reviewers 
 concerning you and me. They take you for a poor 
 distressed gentleman writing for bread, and me for 
 a very impudent 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 respect by nobody but James 
 Boswell, Esq. 
 
 Yours, etc., 
 
 Andrew Erskine.
 
 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 337 
 
 The following letter to Mr. Dempster, hitherto unpublished, 
 has been communicated to the Editor by a friend. Mr. 
 Dempster has been before referred to (pp. 16 and 27) as allied 
 with Erskine and Boswell in concocting a pamphlet upon 
 Mallet's "Elvira," and as having greatly displeased Dr. Johnson 
 by his sceptical arguments and opinions. Mr. Dempster repre- 
 sented the Perth Burghs for many years, and 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 warran, 
 The^, aith detesting, chaste Kilkerran, 
 An that glib-gabbet Highland Baron, 
 
 The Laird of o'Graham ; 
 An one, a chap that's d — d auld-farran, 
 
 Dundas his name." 
 
 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 repect it only shares the fate of several other of Boswell's 
 writings, the libraries and catalogues not containing any notice 
 whatever 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 
 
 * The same remark applies to Mr. Temple's writings. For in- 
 stance, in one of the Letters (March, 1793) which he preserved along 
 with Boswell's correspondence, reference is thus made to some un- 
 known publication in which Temple, it appears, had criticised 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, Temple had amongst 
 his friends those who (like himself) had no admiration for Dr. 
 Johnson, and (unlike himseli) a great contempt for Boswell. " Who," 
 writes one, " would purchase fame as an author, or in any other way, 
 on such terms as this creature, Boswell I "
 
 338 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 
 
 friends, who have always lived pleasantly together, 
 though of principles directly opposite. I was happy 
 that your accepting one of Mr. Pulteney's Seats proved 
 a false rumour, for it would have been a sad degrada- 
 tion ; but though not in Parliament, you can be mis- 
 chievous enough as a " Whig Dog," as Johnson would 
 say, or rather, something even beyond that ; for you 
 are for that most horrible anarchy the French Revo- 
 lution. 
 
 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 
 cannot 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 candour 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 full share of 
 the metropolitan advantages. 
 
 My magnum opus, the " Life of Dr. Johnson," in 
 two volumes quarto, is to be published on Monday, 
 1 6th 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-
 
 LETTERS OF BOSWELL 339 
 
 ing collection that has appeared in this age. When it 
 is fairly launched I mean to stick close to Westminster 
 Hall, and it will be truly kind if you recommend me 
 appeals, or causes of any sort. 
 
 Pray, let me have a long account of you as a Rusticus. 
 My compliments to Mrs. Dempster. 
 
 Ever most truly yours, 
 
 James Bosw^ell. 
 
 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 English Bar, wherever at least it becomes 
 known. This breach of conventional etiquette was however 
 more unavailing 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 gratitude of the world is 
 based alone upon the successful prosecution of his literary 
 pursuits.
 
 INDEX 
 
 Abington, Mrs., 150 
 AUardeen, 285 
 
 American Revolution, 145, 165, 174 
 Anderson's History of Commerce, 133 
 " Anecdote," Dr. Johnson's defini- 
 tion of, 258 
 Apparitions, 231, 234-235 
 Argyle, Duke of, on Boswell as a 
 
 soldier, il 
 Auchinleck, Lord (Boswell's 
 father), 40, 51, 88, 96, 134, 146, 
 167, 169, 173, 175, 204, 209 ; on 
 Dr. Johnson, 167 ; death of, 214 
 Auchinleck, 65, 285, 287, 302 
 
 Bacon's, John, statue of Dr. John- 
 son, 263 
 
 Bagnal, Miss, 279 
 
 Ball, Dr., 222 
 
 Baltimore's, Lord, Tour in the 
 East, 91 
 
 Barrington, Admiral, 273 
 
 Barrow, Rev. Dr., Soho Academy, 
 261 
 
 Barthelemy's Voyage en Grece, 231 
 
 Bath, Boswell's visit to, 187, 190 
 
 Beauclerks, the, 154, 156 
 
 Bedford, Duke of, 121 
 
 "Belle Irlandaise, La," 108, 124, 
 130 
 
 Bishops, the, and Dr. Johnson, 
 263 
 
 Blair, Miss, of Adamtown, Bos- 
 well's courtship of, 76, 78-104, 
 111-115, 129 
 
 Blenheim Tavern, Bond Street, 
 club, 236 
 
 BosviUe, Miss, 64, 96 
 
 Boswell, Alexander, Lord Auchin- 
 leck. See Auchinleck 
 
 Boswell, David, 60, 65, 126, 138, 
 208, 228, 236, 261, 262, 267, 276 
 
 Boswell, Dr., 81, 211 
 
 Boswell, James, introduction to 
 Hume, 2 ; love for Miss W — t, 
 3 ; Scotch accent, 4 ; study of 
 law, 7 ; attracted by London 
 and the Guards, 10, 332 ; pre- 
 sented to the Duke of Argyle, 1 1; 
 first meeting with Dr. Johnson, 
 14 ; preparations for journey to 
 Holland, 29, 37 ; in Utrecht, 39 ; 
 on his travels, 39-50 ; letters 
 to Mr. [Sir Andrew] Mitchell, 
 39-45 ; visits Corsica, and his 
 Account of Corsica, 46-50, 89, 92, 
 108, 116; work as a Scots 
 lawyer, 56, 160 ; his mistresses, 
 58, 60, 62, 87 ; and the Douglas 
 Cause, 68-73 ; courtship of 
 Miss Blair, 76, 78-104, III-I15, 
 129 ; marriage to Miss Mont- 
 gomerie, 105, 131 ; visits Ire- 
 land, 108 ; on Shakespeare's 
 
 341
 
 342 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Boswell, James — continued 
 Jubilee, at Stratford-upon-Avon, 
 1769, 108-110; as an "armed 
 Corsican chief," 109 ; elected 
 to the Literary Club, I lo ; and 
 Zelid-, 60, 96, 116, 117, 118, 
 120 ; and gaming, 123 ; and 
 "La belle Irkndaise " (Mary 
 Anne), 124, 130 ; supplies artil- 
 lery to the Corsicans, 126 ; sons 
 born, 134, 177; his married 
 life, 137; resides in London, 
 140, 150; visits Wilton, 150, 
 152 ; keeps a journal, 152, 245 ; 
 his association with Dr. John- 
 son, 153 ; at the Inner Temple 
 commons, 155, 158 ; attends 
 lectures on chemistry, 167 ; his 
 father's dissatisfaction with him, 
 see under Auchinleck, Lord; 
 suffers from hypochondria, 169, 
 212, 219, 270, 274, 277, 285 ; 
 his drinking habits, 189, 231, 
 240, 242, 255, 256, 257, 282, 288, 
 299 ; and rural scenery, 172 ; 
 and the English Bar, 173, 188, 
 215, 220, 260, 339 ; the renun- 
 ciation of his birthright, 176 ; 
 visits Bath, 187, 190 ; a tribute 
 to his character, 199 ; visits 
 Chester, 202 ; his Hypochon- 
 driac, 204 ; loans of money, 205, 
 254 ; his father's allowance, 209 ; 
 studies Greek, 204, 212 ; house- 
 hunting in London, 220 ; as a 
 candidate for Parliament, 223, 
 238, 240, 243, 249, 269, 272; 
 Pitt's neglect, 223, 225, 228, 237; 
 the Northern Circuit, 225, 226 ; 
 his vanity and Sir John Hawkins, 
 233 ; Recorder of Carlisle, 236, 
 240, 243, 249, 269, 270, 338 ; 
 attends a Drawing-room, 239; 
 his sons and their education, 221, 
 
 Boswell, James — continued 
 
 226, 239, 255, 261, 338 ; and his 
 children, 247-249, 251, 259-267; 
 falls from his horse, 242 ; his 
 wife's illness and death, see Bos- 
 well, Mrs. {injra) ; chairman of 
 Quarter Sessions, 244 ; loses his 
 wig, 250, 253 ; his preference 
 for London over Edinburgh, 
 259 ; takes chambers in the 
 Inner Temple, 260, 265 ; his 
 financial affairs, 260, 262 ; re- 
 sides in Queen Anne Street 
 West, 265 ; place-seeking, 268 ; 
 quarrels with Lord Lonsdale, 
 269 ; illness of his sons, 264, 271; 
 a " lady of fortune," 272 ; goes 
 the Home Circuit, 283 ; matri- 
 monial schemes, 284 ; meets 
 with an accident and is robbed, 
 288 ; his last letter, 293 ; his 
 last illness, 293-295 ; his death 
 and burial, 296 ; his character, 
 297 ; humorous correspondence 
 with the Hon. Andrew Erskine, 
 298-336 ; in love, 299 ; his 
 fondness for dress, 303 ; and the 
 Collection of Poems by Scotch 
 Gentlemen, edited by Boswell 
 and Erskine, 310, 326; his dis- 
 like of the country, 330 ; a 
 poem by, 338 ; resides in Great 
 Portland Street, 338 
 
 Boswell's Lije of Johnson: refer- 
 ences to its progress, 108, no, 
 119, 139, 192, 252, 272 ; collect- 
 ing materials for, 180, 186 ; pre- 
 paration for publication, 214, 
 233, 255, 256; "the most 
 perfect piece of biography," 216, 
 218 ; introduction and dedica- 
 tion, 221 ; Malone's revision, 221, 
 254, 255, 257, 265 ; delays in 
 completion, 230, 246 ; the
 
 INDEX 
 
 343 
 
 Boswell's Life of Johnson — con- 
 tinued 
 labour of its preparation, 257 ; 
 its " anecdotes," 258 ; in the 
 press, its type, &c., 265 ; its 
 completion, and fears concern- 
 ing it, 278 ; its publication, 281, 
 338 ; Boswell's satisfaction, 282 ; 
 the second edition, 282, 287, 
 289 ; its sale, 284 
 
 Boswell, Mrs. (Margaret Mont- 
 gomerie), marriage, 105 ; Dr. 
 Johnson's opinion of her, 106 ; 
 " Uxoriana," 106 ; birth of a 
 son, 134; Boswell's opinion of 
 her, 137 ; her illness, 226, 228- 
 230, 235, 241-242, 245 ; her 
 death, 240, 246 ; funeral, 247 ; 
 Boswell's grief at her loss, 250- 
 
 253, 257 
 
 Boswell, James, the younger, 
 letters on his father's illness, 
 294-296 
 
 Boswell, John, 138, 159 
 
 Boufflers, Mde. de, visits Dr. 
 Johnson, 179 
 
 Boy dell. Alderman, 217 
 
 " Breton, Duke of," 273 
 
 Brown, " Capabihty," 172 
 
 Brumoy's theatre des Grecs, 287 
 
 Buchanan, Mrs., 259 
 
 Burgh, James, Political Disquisi- 
 tions, 188 
 
 Burke, Edmund, 173, 194, 238 ; 
 Speech on Reconciliation with the 
 Colonies, 164 ; and European 
 Settlements in America, 263 
 
 Burke, Young (Richard), 263 
 
 Burke, Will, 264 
 
 Caermarthen, Lord, 237 
 Cambridge, Richard Owen, 151 
 Camoen's Lusiad, translated by 
 Mickle, 174 
 
 Campbell, Lord, on the Douglas 
 Cause, 70 
 
 Carlisle, Bishop of, 251 
 
 Carlisle, Recorder of, Boswell as, 
 236, 240, 243, 249, 269, 270, 338 
 
 Chatham, Earl of. See Pitt, Wil- 
 liam 
 
 Chelsea, Blacklands House Board- 
 ing School, 259, 267, 338 
 
 Chester, Boswell visits, 202 
 
 Christ's Hospital, Temple's 
 nephew and, 217, 222, 238 
 
 Clackmannan election case, 149 
 
 Clark, Alderman, 217 
 
 Claxton, , 117, 122, 139, 146, 
 
 149, 155, 156, 157 
 
 Clergy, Boswell on the, 53 
 
 CHfford, Lord, 152, 160, 172 
 
 Club, The, at Newmarket (poem by 
 Boswell), 12 
 
 Cochran, Major (Lord Dundonald) 
 story of, 7, 9 
 
 Cochrane, Commissioner, 136 
 
 Cochrane, , newspaper attack 
 
 on, 177 
 
 Collingwood, Mrs., Morpeth, 145 
 
 Concubinage, 148 
 
 Consultation sur la Discipline de 
 Avocats, 180 
 
 Corsica, Boswell's visit to, and his 
 Account of Corsica, 46-50, 59, 
 65, 89, 92, 108, 116; Corsican 
 affairs, 126 
 
 Corte, University of, 103 
 
 Courtenay, John, 231, 234, 262, 
 263, 291 
 
 Cub, The, 331 
 
 Dalrymple, Sir David (afterwards 
 Lord Hailes), 5, 7, 8, 9, 29, 
 74, 92, 98, 167 
 
 Dr. Johnson on, 8 
 
 On Dr. Johnson, 22 
 
 His Annals of Scotland,!'] 1,1%
 
 344 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Dalrymple, John, 135 
 
 Davies, Rev. Jonathan (Eton), 255, 
 
 262 
 Dempster, George, M.P., 16, 24, 
 26, 27, 325, 338 
 Letter to, 337 
 Burns on, 337 
 Devaynes, Mr., the apothecary, 
 
 271, 288, 298 
 Dick, Sir Alexander, 75, 81, 162, 
 164 
 British Georgic, 196 
 Dick, Miss, 116, 117, 122 
 Diderot's translation of the preface 
 
 to Johnson's Dictionary, 179 
 Dilly, E. and C, pubhshers, 82, 
 
 193, 194. 195 
 Donaldson, Alexander, 308, 316, 
 
 325, 326 
 
 Dorando, a romance on the Douglas 
 Cause, 71, 85, 86, 89, 90 
 
 Douglas Cause, the, 68-73 
 
 Drury Lane Theatre, 277, 303 
 
 Dun, John, 264 
 
 Dundas, Harry (afterwards Vis- 
 count Melville), 157, 177, 223, 
 236, 249, 267, 275, 284 
 
 Dundonald, Lord. See Cochran, 
 Major 
 
 Earle, surgeon, 288, 294, 295 
 Eghntoun, Earl of, 105, 131, 244 
 Elfrida, Mason's, 2, 149 
 Eliot, Lord, 228, 271, 274, 288 
 Elvira, Mallet's, pamphlet against, 
 
 16 
 Erskine, Hon. Andrew, and Bos- 
 well, humorous corre- 
 , spondence between, 298- 
 
 336; note on, 13 
 Lines on BosweU and the 
 
 Army, 328 
 Collection of Original Poems 
 by Scotch Gentlemen, edited 
 
 Erskine, Hon. Andrew — continued 
 by Erskine and BosweU, 310, 
 326 
 BosweU acts as counsel for, 149 
 Essays, Moral and Literary, 194 
 Eton, BosweU entertained at, 255, 
 
 262 
 European Magazine, 287 
 
 Falconer, Thomas, 203 
 
 Fergusson, Sir Adam, 244 
 
 Fergusson (Civil Society), 135 
 
 Fingal, 317, 319, 320, 325, 328 
 
 Flood, Henry, 262 
 
 Lines on Dr. Johnson, 266 
 
 Forster, Mr., 218 
 
 Fox, Charles J., Letter to (pamph- 
 let), 287 
 
 Frankhn, Dr., 121 
 
 Franklin on stiUing the waves by 
 oil, 148 
 
 French Revolution, the, 263, 292 
 
 FuUarton, Mr., lover of Miss 
 Blair, 112 
 
 Garrick, David, 109, 116, 121, 146 
 
 Gibbon, Edward, 1 88, 197 
 Gilmour, Sir Alexander, ill 
 Gordon, Duchess of, 99, 100 
 Governesses, the position of, 216 
 Gray, Thomas, on Boswell's Cor- 
 sica, 47, 89, 122 
 Rev. W. J. Temple on, 140- 
 
 142, 148 
 An apothecary Gray mistaken 
 
 for the poet, 19, 28 
 Mason's Life of Gray. See 
 Mason 
 Gregory, Mr., 159 
 Gwarthen, Mr. and Mrs., 217 
 
 Hailes, Lord. See Dalrymple, 
 
 Sir David 
 Hamilton, Duchess of, 72
 
 INDEX 
 
 345 
 
 Harris, James, On Happiness, 19 ; 
 
 Hermes and Dr. Johnson, 151 
 Hawkins, Sir John, 224, 227, 232, 
 
 233, 276, 279 
 Hawkins, Miss, 233 
 Hay's Sermons and Village, 287 
 Hebrides, Journal of a Tour in the, 
 
 139, 143-144, 215, 267; Dr. 
 
 Johnson and its publication, 153, 
 
 155 
 Henry's, Rev. Robert, History of 
 
 England, 133 
 
 Hill, Dr. ("Sir John Hill"), 317 
 
 History, a definition of, 133 
 
 History, modern, Hume on the 
 study of, 132 
 
 Hockley's Boarding School, Chel- 
 sea, 259 
 
 Home, John, 325, 336 
 
 Holyrood House, 327 
 
 Hopton House, 200 
 
 Horsley's, Bishop, Sermons, 287 
 
 Hume, David, 2, 59, 121, 122, 128, 
 132, 136, 153, 164, 166, 187 
 Anecdotes of, 163 
 On Johnson's Dictionary, 165 
 
 Hurd, Richard, Bishop of Wor- 
 cester, 206, 227 ; his Life of 
 Warburton, 219 
 
 Ireland, Boswell's visit to, 108 
 
 Jepson, Mr., 271 
 
 Jerningham's, Edward, poetry, 
 178, 275 
 Enthusiasm, 236 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, Boswell's 
 first meeting with, 14 ; 
 advice on study, 22 ; rooms 
 in the Temple, 25 ; ac- 
 companies Boswell to Har- 
 wich, 35-38 ; letter of ad- 
 vice to Boswell, 35-36; on 
 Boswell's Corsica, 46, and 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel — continued 
 
 Mrs. Boswell, 106 ; on mar- 
 riage, 107 ; and the Tour in 
 the Hebrides, 153, 155 ; at 
 the Thrales', 156; at the 
 Beauclerks', 157; emenda- 
 tions to Hailes' Annals of 
 Scotland, 17 1 ; visits the 
 Continent, 179 ; friendship 
 for Boswell, 199 ; his death, 
 214 ; proposed statue in 
 Westminster Abbey, 263, 
 265 
 Boswell's Life of Johnson. 
 See Boswell, James 
 
 Johnston, David, 81, 137, 139, 170, 
 205 
 
 Jortin, John, Hurd's attacks on, 227 
 
 Kames, Lord, 99, 164, 166, 200, 
 
 336 
 
 Kellie, Lord, 309, 325 
 Kerr, Lord Marck, 304 
 
 Lamentation of a stabler, Hutchi- 
 son, 328 
 
 Langton, Bennet, 234, 237 
 
 Law, Mr., K.C., 222 
 
 Le Fleming, Sir Michael, 238 
 
 Leland's, Dr. Thomas, Essay on 
 the Delicacy of Friendship, 227 
 
 Levett, Robert, 25 
 
 Liberty, human, and God's pre- 
 science, 143 
 
 Lisburne, Lord, 98, 126, 132, 139, 
 144, 148, 149, 154, 155, 161, 171 
 
 Literary Club, Boswell and the, 
 no, III, 150 
 
 London, Boswell and, 10, 20, 210 
 Facilities for study in, 205 
 
 London Magazine, 140, 148, 194, 
 204 
 
 Lonsdale, Lord, 223, 228, 233, 238, 
 243> 250; 257, 269
 
 346 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Love, Mr., 4, 7, 29 
 Lowth, Robert, Bishop of London, 
 197 
 On Isaiah, 196 
 Lowther, Col., 238, 243 
 Lucan, Lord, 275 
 Lyttelton, Lord, 116, 234 
 
 -, Miss, 292 
 
 M- 
 
 Macaulay, Mrs., 116, 132 
 
 Macbride, Capt., 106 
 
 Macklin, Charles, comedian, 277 
 
 M'Laurin, , 210 
 
 Macpherson, James, History, 
 
 Hume on, 163 
 Mallet's Elvira, 16 
 Malone, Edmund, 221, 231, 232, 
 262, 263, 271 
 Revises Boswell's Johnson, 254, 
 
 255, 257, 265 
 Edition of Shakespeare,2^^,2^j 
 Markham, Wm., Archbishop of 
 
 York, 222 
 Marlborough, Duke of, story of 
 
 the, 281 
 Marriage, Boswell on, 55, 58 
 
 Johnson on, 107 
 Mason's, Wm., Eljrida, 2, 149 
 Life of Gray, 140, 148, 155, 
 
 162, 167, 200, 218 
 Life of Whitehead, 218 
 Meadovs^s, Capt., 121 
 Metcalfe, Mr., 228, 263, 271 
 Mexico, History of the Barbarous 
 
 Conquest of, 135 
 Mickle's, W. J., Lusiad of Camoens, 
 
 174 
 
 Milles, Miss, 284 
 
 Mitchell, Sir Andrew, letters to, 
 
 39-45 
 " Mitre, The," 17 
 
 Monboddo's, Lord, Metaphysics of 
 
 the Ancients, 198, 204 
 
 Montesquieu's Lettres fersanes, 143 
 
 Montgomerie, Miss Margaret, 
 afterwards Mrs. Boswell. See 
 Boswell, Mrs. 
 
 Morris, Corbyn, 28 
 
 Mountstuart, Lord, 150, 160, 190, 
 
 Mourning Bride, The, 336 
 Muswell Hill, Beauclerk's villa at, 
 156 
 
 New Tarbat, account of, 304 
 
 Nichols, Rev. , 210 
 
 Nicholls, , 31, 87, 146, 236 
 
 North, Lord, 228 
 Northumberland, Lady, 45 
 
 Ode to Gluttony, by Boswell, 309, 
 
 and sequel, 313, 315 
 Ode to Tragedy, by Boswell, 314, 
 
 318, 319 
 Ode upon a Jezv's-Harp, by Erskine, 
 
 306 
 Ogilvie, Mr. [John], 19, 28 
 Oglethorpe, General, 119, 121 
 Ossian, Erskine on, 322 
 Overbury's, Sir Thomas, lines on a 
 
 wife, quoted, 107 
 
 Palmer, Rev. Mr., Grantham, 144 
 Palmer, Miss, 216, 222, 274, 280, 
 
 286 
 
 Paoli, General Pascal, 46-50, 103, 
 
 108, 150, 152, 161, 186, 189, 
 
 190, 223, 229 
 
 Dedication oiCorsicato,\()-'^o 
 
 Parr's, Dr. Samuel, Preface to 
 
 Bellendus, and other works, 227 
 Pearce's, Bishop Zachary, Sermons, 
 
 197 
 Pembroke, Earl of, 121, 147 
 Penn, Governor John, 238, 243, 
 
 263] 
 Perreau, Robert and Daniel, the 
 
 forgers, 183-186
 
 INDEX 
 
 347 
 
 Peur's Mmirs dcs Grecs, 231 
 
 " Pindar's, Peter," Bozzy and Pi- 
 
 ozzi, 234 
 Piozzi, Mrs., 234 
 
 Pitt, William, Earl of Chatham, 
 
 223,225,228, 237, 244,275 
 
 Letters to, on Paoli, 51, 59, 
 
 66 
 
 Poems by Scotch Gentlemen, edited 
 
 by Erskine and Boswell, 310, 326 
 Porteus, Beilby, Bishop of Chester, 
 
 202 
 Powlett, Mr., and Temple's 
 
 daughter, 275, 276, 286 
 Pringle, Sir John, 116, 121, 149, 
 
 164 
 Public Advertiser and Boswell's 
 
 visit to Ireland, 108 
 
 Queen Square Boarding School, 
 236 
 
 R., N. N., letter from, to Temple, 
 
 199 
 Railton, Mr., 218 
 Ramsay's Voyages de Cyrus, 231 
 '^3iyndiVsHistoirefhilosophique,^c., 
 HS, 163 
 Histoire dii Parlement d^Angle- 
 terre, 164 
 Regency, the, 223 
 
 Address to the Prince of Wales, 
 244, 249 
 Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 150, 154, 172, 
 215,228,231,254,259,262, 
 263, 285 
 Dedication of Boswell's John- 
 son to, 221 
 Robertson's, Wm,, Charles the 
 Fifth, 58, 122, 173 ; History of 
 America, 200 
 Ross, David, actor, 273 
 Rousseau, 43, 45, 47 
 
 Hume's quarrel with, 59 
 
 Rudd, Mrs., the forger, 182-186, 
 
 189, 190 
 Russia, rumour of war with, 
 
 280 
 
 Scott, Sir William, 263, 279 
 Septchcnes, M, de, 164 
 Shakespeare Jubilee, Stratford-on- 
 Avon, 1769, Boswell on, 108- 
 
 IIO 
 
 Shenstone's Pastoral on Absence, 
 
 299 
 Sheridan, Mr., 123, 321, 336 
 Silverton, Miss, 159 
 Slave Trade, Boswell and a poem 
 
 on the, 280, 337 
 Smith's, Adam, Wealth of Nations, 
 
 159 
 
 Smith's Jurisprudence, 80 
 Smith, Dean of Chester, 203 
 Soaping Club, the, Edinburgh, 
 
 301, 314 
 Soho Academy, 226, 261 
 
 Steuart's, Sir James, Political 
 
 Economy, 89, 91 
 
 Stormont, Lord, 152 
 
 Stow, Mr. Fenwick, 123 
 
 Streatham, Thrale's villa at, 156 
 
 Stuart, Col. James, 191, 202 
 
 Stuart, Mrs., 158, 190 
 
 Stuart, Hon. and Rev. Wm., 227 
 
 Sunderlin, Lord, 221 
 
 Swinton, John, 167 
 
 Temple family, letter on behalf 
 of the, 23, 44 
 
 Temple, Robert, 21, 24, 32 
 Ditty on, 28 
 
 Temple, Rev. W. J. (to whom the 
 letters are addressed), intro- 
 duced to Dr. Johnson, 52 ; in- 
 structions to, for his journey to 
 Auchinleck, &c., 77 ; marriage, 
 80 ; and Boswell's Corsica, 92,
 
 348 INDEX 
 
 Temple, Rev. W. J. — contlnuea 
 98 ; Boswell's financial help, 
 115, 123; visits Boswell at 
 Edinburgh, 136; on Thomas 
 Gray, 140-142, 148, 266 ; Essay 
 on the Clergy, 146 ; on the 
 lour in the Hebrides, 144, 148 ; 
 and his preferment, 154, 179 ; 
 on Church history, 149, 162 ; 
 and the publication of his 
 letters to Boswell, 169, 171 ; his 
 sketches or essays {Historical, 
 i^c, Memoirs), 170, 179; his 
 financial circumstances, 193,206; 
 Essays, Moral and Literary, as- 
 cribed to, 194 ; Boswell on his 
 political speculations, 198 ; his 
 Green Book, 198, 210 ; Boswell's 
 friendship for him, 257 ; his 
 son's promotion in the Navy, 
 275, 279, 284, 285, 290 ; meets 
 with an accident, 291 ; the pub- 
 lication of his sermons, 292 ; 
 illness, 293 ; on Dr. Johnson, 
 337 ; the fate of his writings, 
 
 337 
 
 Temple, Mrs., letter to, 142 
 
 Temple, Miss, and an offer of 
 
 marriage, 273-276 
 Temple, the Inner, Dr. Johnson's 
 
 rooms, 25 ; Boswell's chambers, 
 
 260, 265 
 Thornton's Plautus, 287 
 
 Thrales, the, 154, 156, 187 
 Torrington, Lord, 195 
 
 Vincent, Rev. Wm., Westminster 
 
 School, 262 
 Voltaire, 43, 45 
 
 W — T, Miss, Boswell's fancy for, 3 
 Walpole, Horace, on Boswell's 
 Corsica, 47, 116 
 On the Douglas Cause, 70 
 Warburton's, Bishop Wm., juve- 
 nile translations and Dis- 
 course on Prodigies, 227 
 Kurd's Life ojWarburton, 2l() 
 Warren, Dr., 264, 271, 294, 295 
 Westminster Abbey, statue of Dr. 
 
 Johnson for, 263, 265 
 Westminster School, 262, 271, 338 
 Wilkes, John, 30, 156, 217, 262 
 As Lord Mayor, 173 
 On Boswell, 332 
 Wilkie, Mr., publisher of Dorando, 
 
 89 
 Windham, Mr., 263 
 Winyard, Mr., and an apparition, 
 
 231, 234-235 
 Wolcot, John. See " Pindar, 
 Peter " 
 
 Wyvill, Rev. , 90, 92, 116, 117, 
 
 122, 162, 164 
 
 Zelide, 60, 96, 116, 117, 118, 120 
 
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