KANSAS CITY MO. PUBLIC LIBRARY
*
J^l?^l, ^^|^V^^|^Si Ifc-J
A MAP OF THE ENVIRONS OF EDINBURGH
focatina ?nany o/ f/ie p faces mentioned in f/ie fart
REDRAWN BY HAROLD K. FA YE FROM AN ANONYMOUS MAP, CIRCA 1767
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Boswsll in. search 0.1 a wife., 1766
1769-
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BosKX.JJ- in ^earch ox a
1769-
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THE YALE EDITIONS OF
C) . ^ C7) <%~
e tsnvate *^/aper$ of J-a
ames
BoswelVs London Journal^ 1762-1763
BoswelL in Holland, 1 763-1 764
Portraits, BY SIR JOSHUA BKYNOLDS
Boswell on the Grand Tour: Germany and Switzerland^ 1 764
BoswM on the Grand Tour: Italy., Corsica., and France^ 1 765-1 766
Boswell in Search of a Wife,, 1 766-1 769
Margaret Montgomerie (? 17 $8- 1789), from the oil painting in the
collection of Sir Gilbert Eliott of Slobs, Bt
77
u
IN SEARCH OF A WIFE
1766-1769
EDITED BY FRANK BRADY
ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH
AND FREDERICK A. POTTLE
PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH
YALE UNIVERSITY
-r* Boon COMPANY, INC.
NEW YORK TORONTO LONDON
Boswell in Search of a Wife, 17 66* '1769. Copyright (j$ *y56 by Yale,
Copyright., ^^28, *9$o 9 /$w, by Y&fc University, Copyright renewed
All rights in this book are reserved, It may not h^ used for dramatic^ motion -^
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THE Rioirr HowroimAHLK THE EAHL w CRAWFORD AND BALOARKRS, G.B.E., awrr., B.C.L.,
Lf^.B,, Chftirninn of the Board of Trustees, National Library of Scotland
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History)
Sin, JAMES FEKOUSSON OF KILKRKIIAN, BT., Keeper of the Records of Scotland
ARTHUR A, HotionTON, J,^ IJTT.D., L.UD, LL.D,, New York City
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W, S* LEWIS, t,rrr,B H LJLD^ Follow of Yale University and Editor of the Yale Edition of
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burgh
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L. F. POWELL, M.A., D.LITT., F.R.S.L., F.L.A., Sometime Librarian of the Taylor Institution,
Reviser of Hill's Edition of BoswelPs "Life of Johnson"
S. C. ROBERTS, M.A., LL.D., Master of Pembroke College, Cambridge
L. W. SHARP, M.A., PH.D., Librarian to the University of Edinburgh
D. NICHOL SMITH, LITT.D., LL.D., F.B.A., Emeritus Professor of English Literature in tho
University of Oxford
CHAUNGEY B. TINKER, PH.D., LITT.D., L.H.D., Sterling Professor Emeritus of English Litora
ture, and Keeper of Hare Books in the University Library, Yale University
The Yale Editions of the Private Papers of James Boswell will consist of two independent
but parallel series planned and executed for different types of readers, On<\ the "research"
edition, will give a complete text of Boswell 3 s journals, diaries, and memoranda; of his cor
respondence; and of "Th& Life of Johnson" from the original manuscript: the whole run
nlng to at least thirty volumes. It will preserve the spelling and capitalization of the original
documents^ and will be provided with extensive scholarly annotation. A targe group of
editors and a permanent office staff are engaged in this comprehend re undertaking* the
first volume of which may appear by ^957, The other, the reading or "trade" edition, will
select from the total mass of papers those portions that appear likely lo interest the general
reading public, and will present them in modern spelling arid, unth annotation of a popular
cast. The publishers may also issue limited de I axe printings of the trade rolurnes, with
extra illustrations and special editorial matter, hut in no case will the trade rolunies or the
de luxe printings include matter from BostvelTs archil w that will not cttao appear in the
research edition.
The present volume is the sixth of the trade edition,
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION by Frank Brady ix
TEXT OF Boswell hi Search of a Wife, i 366-17 6 9 i
APPENDIX A. Verses in the Character of a Corsican 351
APPENDIX B. Genealogical Tables 353
INDEX 357
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Margaret TVTontgo merle (? 1738-1789), from the oil painting in the collec-
tion of Sir Gilbert Kliott of Slobs, Bt. Frontispiece
Map of Edinburgh in 1 765, Redrawn by Harold K. Faye
Following page viii
Archibald Douglas, ist Baron Douglas of Douglas (1748-1827), from an
engraving in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, after a portrait by
George Willison. (Boswell was present in Willison's studio when this
painting was begun. See the entry in his Journal for 22 July 1769.)
Facing page 70
Title-page of the first edition of Boswoll's Account of Corsica, published in
February i 7^)8 Facing page 130
Poslsoript lo James BoswolPs loiter of proposal io Margaret Montgomerie
(20 July 1769), and his endorsement on her letter of acceptance (22
July t7()<)) From the originals in the Yale University library.
Facing page
David Garrick (1717-1 779) as Steward of the Stratford Jubilee, September
i/fic), from a jnex'/olint; in the Theatre Collection of the Harvard Col-
lege library, by Joseph Sauriders after Benjamin Van der Gucht
Facing page 280
viii List of Illustrations
The Marriage Contract between James Boswell and Margaret Montgomcrio,
31 October 1769, signed by Miss Montgomerie on 25 November 1769;
with endorsements by Pasquale de Paoli, Samuel Johnson, and Archi-
bald Douglas. From the original in the Yale University Library
Facing pages 348-349
Map of Edinburgh and Environs, about 1767. Redrawn by Harold K. Faye
Front endpapers; also following page 352
Maps of England, Scotland, and Ireland at the time of Boswcll's journal,
1766-69, locating many of the places mentioned. Redrawn by Harold
K. Faye Rear endpapers; also following page 352
N O T K OF C O ERECTION
The map of Edinburgh in 1765 which follows this page was ready for
printing before we discovered in it a number of errors that go back to the
original." Edgar's map of i 765" is a revision by an unknown hand of a map
drawn in 1742. The revisions were patched into the old plate, which in most
respects remained unchanged. One of these* revisions was the insertion of
the Royal Exchange (built 1753-1761), which replaced three entire closes
of the old map: Mary King's Close, Stewart's Close, and Pearson's ("lose.
The reviser, who wished to leave the sequence of numbers on each side of
the Exchange as they were, assigned the numbers of those doses to buildings
in various parts of the city: the Royal Bank, St. Cecilia's Hall, and Dr.
Alexander Monro's new theatre for dissections and lectures in anatomy
(Nos. 19, 20, 21 of our map). The engraver misunderstood his directions, or
could not find the new numbers, and so fitted them in around three sides of
the courtyard of the Exchange. Actually, the Royal Bank (built 1727) was
in No. 70, the close which Edgar calls SteiFs (it was later called Royal Bank
Close); St. Cecilia's Hall (built 1762) was at the foot of Niddry\s Wyml
(No. 87) on the right-hand side looking up from the Cowgate; and "Dr.
Monro's New Class" (built 71765) would have been somewhere in the area
of the University of Edinburgh ("College" on our map) . The mysterious
"Chander" (No. 101), which appears both in Edgar's map of i 742 and the
revision, is probably a misreading of Chanctor, and is equated by H. R Kerr
in his composite "Map of Edinburgh in the Mid-Eighteenth Century" (Rm/c
of the Old Edinburgh Club, 1922) with the structure called *The Chancel-
lor's House" in earlier accounts of Holyrood Palace,
A PLAN OF THE CITY
OF EDINBURGH
INTRODUCTION
The onset of maturity Is marked by one definite sign: a moment of
sudden realisation that the future has turned into the present.
Whether James Boswell ever experienced such a moment it is difficult
to say. His determination,, during the period covered by this volume,
"if possible to maintain a propriety and strictness of manners" after
the publication of his Account of Corsica, looks in another direction;
it illustrates the impossible desire to reach a stage of static perfection
that tantalized him throughout his life. But during the years 1 766-
1 769, whether he knew it or not, he arrived at the greatest degree of
maturity he was to reach. What had come before his education.,
sexual and religious experiences, the Grand Tour must be seen in
a new perspective. It served to prepare him for the crucial particular
situations he now faced, which, moreover, he was to deal with suc-
cessfully. He became a lawyer, wrote a fine, popular, and influential
book, and got 'married. These were his marvelous years.
To enter into the main stream of society, as Boswell now did, en-
tails the adoption of a number of attitudes towards oneself, others, and
one's work; it impels the individual to acquire a number of public
and private roles. The roles chosen depend, in turn, not only on the
context of the society in which he is to play a part, but also upon his
past: the framework of relationships he has built up, and the funda-
mental principles or passions that rule him. "You may just keep in
mind," Boswell wrote to Margaret Montgorncrie, "that a disposition
to melancholy and the most violent passion for the family of Auchin-
icck make a part of my very existence," Here are the bases of his ac-
tions and attitudes-
Melancholy and family are intertwined elements which can be
illuminated by a look at BoswelVs society and his early relationships.
Modern, and especially American, readers are likely to forget that
eighteenth-century society, though like our own in its stress on prop-
erty and money, differed from ours in one important respect: it was a
"lineal" society. A man thought of himself arid was judged by others
x Introduction
In terms of his family, its position and traditions, a good deal more
than in terms of what he was or made of himself as an individual. For
Boswell, then, what he was or did as a person counted less in itself
than it did in relation to the family of Boswell of Auchmleck.
Such an attitude immensely complicated his most significant re-
lationship up to this time, that with his father. He loved his timid
and pious mother, but she lacked his father's force of character and
the prestige he commanded in a patriarchal society, 1 ,ord AuebinleeL,
his son felt, was a man of "real worth" with a "strict regard to truth
and to honour." As a judge he was known for his integrity, intelli-
gence, and devotion to his duty. But to Boswell he seemed cold and
unimaginative, with a talent for checking conversation and for put-
ting what he despised in a contemptible light. More important,
though he acted fairly towards his son and perhaps even loved him,
he neither understood nor approved of Boswell's actions and char-
acter.
Boswell had spirit enough to rebel against his father's unflattering*
view; his survival as an individual demanded that he do so. I Us pa-
pers refer again and again to quarrels with his father, sullen inter-
views, remonstrances, defiant letters. But he was incapable of ever
shaking himself really free from his father's opinion of him, of attain
ing "the privileges of an independent human being. 1 * Material factors*
played a part: his father provided him with a necessary allowance
and other money on occasion; eventually the property of Aueliinleck
and the position it gave its owner were at stake, (Though Brswell
could not actually have been disinherited., his father could have made
difficulties for him.) But beyond these considerations and the basic
struggle which defying a parent involves was the fact that Bosw<H\s
picture of himself was confused. Much as he loved the roles of the
"great man" and the "playhouse buck," to run around London and
chase after girls in the streets, he also had "agrooabta, family, sober
ideas" he shared many of his father's values. He clung passion-
ately to the idea of the House of Auchinleck of which his father was
not merely the representative, but also the living spirit of its grave,
shrewd ideals. To twist a phrase of Samuel Johnson's somewhat-, the
issues between Boswell and his father were often "matters of sensa-
tion not of judgement/' which brought out differences of temper-
Introduction xi
ament rather than opinion. Therefore, Boswell could never be sure
that he had a right to oppose his father and to follow his own course
of action. The feelings of guilt and resentment that ensued account,
in part at least, for his melancholy.
Lord Auchinleck's intention, three years after his wife's death, to
remarry brought their relationship to its greatest crisis. Though such
a decision might seem but mildly objectionable to most sons, Boswell
wildly resented it. He saw it as a slur on his mother's memory, and
as an ungrateful return for his submissive behaviour. He feared that
remarriage might estrange his father from himself and his brothers,
that Lord Auchinleck might even leave his estate to children by his
second wife. (He did provide his widow with a large jointure.)
His proposed bride was an "infamous woman" so to "impose on an
old man worn out with business, and ruin the peace of a family!"
Boswell had felt himself an "old Roman" in disputing with his father
over the entail to the estate; now he conjured up visions of leaving
Scotland, his prospects, and his career, to become a "wild Indian" in
America if his father remarried. The violence of his emotion indicates
how profoundly he was disturbed, and. suggests that he feared some-
thing more central than any of the facts mentioned could warrant;
he may have been afraid that remarriage signified the final alienation
of his father's affection from him and from the mother with whom
he had, to some extent, identified himself.
From sxich deep disappointment it was a relief for him to turn to
Johnson, the other great older figure in his life. Instead of greeting
him with cool Scots sarcasm, Johnson, Boswell records of one meet-
ing, "took me all in his arms and kissed me on both sides of the head,
arid was as cordial as ever I saw him," Here was a father who,
whether he approved of him entirely or not, demonstrated his love
for him.
BoswelFs attitude towards Johnson, however, was a complicated
one. It included first the obvious roles of the dutiful son, the enthu-
siastic friend, arid the eager student. He loved and admired Johnson,
defended him, and wished to learn from him. He may even have
sought and enjoyed being reprimanded on certain occasions; experi-
ence had taught him that fathers condemned. Bxit the range of sub-
jects they discussed, and even more important the particular topics
xii Introduction
to which Boswell constantly chose to return^ indicate that he could
also play the equal and the sceptic. Boswell questioned Johnson, of
course, about problems immediate to his life: law., Corsica, his father's
prospective marriage and his own; but he also pressed him about,
death and free will, matters tense with significance for both of them,
and which Johnson wished to avoid. Furthermore, he felt secure
enough to mention almost any thought that came into his head, and
to pursue it even when Johnson showed annoyance: what would you
do if you were shut up in a castle with a now-born child? There is a
futile air about Boswell's struggles with his father, since neither
seemed willing or able to learn from the other. But in BoswelFs deal
ings with Johnson, enough affection and tolerance existed on hot It
sides so that a give-and-take situation could often, though not always,
be establisShed. It was not a closed system in which nothing new could
develop, but a meaningful and productive relationship.
In the landed and contentious society of eighteenth-century Scot-
land, the law was the great profession. Boswell clearly reveals his
mixed attitude towards it, as his destined vocation from early years,
in an anecdote in Bosuwlliana. After complaining that lie disliked the
law as a career and had entered on it only to please his father; he
added: "I am pressed into the service here; but I have observed that
a pressed man either by sea or land after a little time does just as well
as a volunteer." Boswell did make a much better lawyer than one
would have predicted; as a contemporary wrote: U 0allecl to the bar,
he distinguished himself in his first appearances by an ingenious in-
vention of arguments, a brilliancy of eloquence, and a quickness of
wit" 1 His early earnings were considerably better than the average
for young advocates, thoxigh to be sure his father's position as a judge
helped to make him sought after, Bosweli grew used to his work n and
even to like it at times. A stabilizing influence, it: provided him with a
place in society and a comfortable status in his own eyes; whatever
roles he adopted temporarily, he was permanently James BmwelL
advocate.
1 Quoted in Percy Fitzgerald's Ufa of Jamt*s #o.vwvr//, 1891, 1, u>0,
source is unknown.
Introduction xiii
The case that most interested him in his early years at the bar was
the Douglas cause, the greatest civil trial held in Scotland during the
period. Archibald, Duke of Douglas, died in 1761 without direct
heirs. His sister, Lady Jane Douglas, at forty-eight had married Colo-
nel (later Sir) John Stewart, and two years later, in 1748, had an-
nounced the birth of twins at Paris in very obscure circumstances.
One of the children died young. The guardians of the Duke of Hamil-
ton and his brother, acting for them, and another relative who had
an arguable claim to the estate if Archibald Douglas, the surviving
child, were disinherited, brought suit maintaining that the children
were spurious. The Hamilton lawyers thought they had discovered
that Archibald and his brother were French children fraudulently
obtained, and when the case, after having been fought through the
courts since 1762, came to a decision in July 1767, the Court of Ses-
sion agreed with them by a vote of eight to seven. In February 1769,
the House of Lords reversed this decision upon appeal. 2
Boswell did not need to be pressed into this cause; he became an
ardent volunteer for Douglas. As well as composing ballads (sung to
admiring audiences) and contributing* items to the newspapers about
it, he wrote a slightly disguised fictional account of the case called
Dorando^ while the trial was going on. In this little work the facts
are twisted with an easy facility to favour Douglas. Speeches uphold-
ing his claim are inserted into the mouths of characters representing
Robert Dundas, Lord President of the Court of Session, who was
strongly opposed to it, and the Earl of Chatham; Douglas's victory is
triumphantly predicted; and in a flight of fancy at its conclusion, the
Prince of Dorando (Douglas) rescues the Prince of Arvidoso (the
young Duke of Hamilton) from a wild boar, restoring peace between
the two families. For this and other literary services, Douglas re-
warded Boswell by making him a regular counsel in the cause after the
main victory had been won. a
The major issue in the Douglas cause, so far as Boswell was con-
3 A. Francis Stouurt's The Douglas Cause^ 1909, a volume in the Notable Scottish
Trials series, contains the boat short account of the case, together with illustra-
tive documents, Lillian de la Torre has made an accurate and exhaustive study
of the affair, and has come up with an ingenious solution to its difficulties in her
lively and entertaining The Heir of Douglas, 1952.
:j BoswelPs other efforts to help Douglas are discussed on pp. 69 and 87.
xlv Introduction
cerned, was "that great principle of law filiation on which wo
all depend." Doubt a man's parentage, he felt, and yon cut the very
ground from under his feet. Why Boswcll felt so strongly about an
abstract principle can be understood if Douglas's problem is trans-
posed into terms of his own situation. Boswcll's own inheritance was
threatened; in a metaphorical sense his parentage was questionable,
for the differences between his father and himself must have made
him wonder if he was a worthy son of the family of Auchinlee.k. The
resentment aroused by such uncertainty found a happy release. Dur-
ing the rioting in Edinburgh that followed the news of Douglas's
victory, Boswell headed the mob which broke the judges" windows
not excepting his father's.
111
Boswell's visit to Corsica in 1765 arose from a desire to see some-
thing which the ordinary young man on the Grand Tour missed; it
ended by giving him a cause and a reputation. In the Corsiean fight
for independence, first from the Genoese and after May 1 768 from the
French, he saw externalized his own rebellious struggle for liberty,
with none of the conflict which his respect; for authority aroused in
his personal situation. Authority, in this instance, amid legitimately
be defined as oppression, and in all his efforts on bohalf of the Corsi-
cans Boswell could be sure that Ite had the unqualified approval of
another much-respected older man, Pasquale do Paoli, the gallant
Gorsican leader. 4
As soon as he returned to the Continent; from Corsica. Hosxvell
started an elaborate newspaper campaign intended first to bring (lor*
ska and his connection with it to public attention,, and ultimately to
persuade the British government to aid the Corsieans, In tins cam
paign, "facts" and "inventions," as he distinguished thorn in his
marked file of The London Chronicle, wore mingled in a fashion cal-
culated to mislead any but the most knowing reader; all furthered his
* The political and social implications of Corsica and the Conunm r<b<liicm for
eighteenth-century Kurope, and Boswrll's conception of th* Corsintm an* dis-
cussed in the introduction to the Journal of a Tour to Corsica in Rosuvlt on tht*
Grand Tour: Italy ^ ( \>rsi<w, and France.
Introduction xv
grand design. He also raised money to buy arms, and edited a volume
of essays "in favour of the brave Corsicans."
His most important effort, however, and the climax to his attempt
to rouse his countrymen, was his Account of Corsica; The Journal of
a Tour to That Island, and Memoirs of Pascal Paoli, published in
February 1768. His "little monument to liberty," as Boswell called
it, made a strong- impression on the public: a book of the hour, it ran
to three editions in England, three in Ireland, and was translated into
Dutch, German, Italian, and twice into French. Because of Corsica.,
Boswell was as well known on the Continent as Johnson during their
lifetimes. It impressed the French government, which had a trans-
lation made, and undoubtedly influenced the decision of the British
government to send secret supplies of arms to the Corsicans. But the
ministry had no intention of entering on a large-scale war over a com-
paratively unimportant island, and the attempt of a group in Par-
liament in November 1 768 to force a more open stand against the
French was badly defeated. The French were then able to proceed
against their much inferior enemy without fear of British interven-
tion, and by June 1769 had effectually overcome all resistance.
Though his book did not succeed in its object, it deeply affected
Boswell himself. His identification with the Corsican cause was so
complete that he was still known as "Corsica Boswell" twenty-five
years later, Johnson might deprecate his enthusiasm for the Corsi-
cans, arid others smile at its apparent excess, but the cause was a noble
one and commanded respect for its most famous adherent. Further-
more, Corsica made Boswell secure in another social role, that of au-
thor. Ho had "an ardent ambition for literary fame," as he remarks in
its Preface, for lie felt that a successful author had "established him-
self as a respectable character in distant, society, without any danger
of having that character lessened by the observation of his weak-
nesses,"
Boswell could display weaknesses, however, at closer range, as
well as an open and very human mixture of motives. His appearance
in the figure of "an armed Corsican chief" at the Shakespeare Festival
in 1769, after the Corsican caxisc had been definitely lost, served no
larger purpose than to gratify his yearning for flamboyant exhibition-
ism by playing his Corsican role to the utmost. But his bid to save
xv i Introduction
Corsica was essentially a serious affair, no matter how it was tricked
out, and might have had serious consequences. After Paoli's escape
from Corsica, his former adjutant returned to Ajaccio with his preg-
nant wife, and a few weeks later their child was born. If Bosweli had
been successful in securing his government's intervention, Napoleon
Bonaparte might have been born a British subject.
IV
Nowhere did Bosweli strike more poses, or assign roles more rig-
idly to himself and others, than in his relations with women. Many
of those in whom he had any serious interest he characterized by cer-
tain repetitive key words or phrases. These identifications were all
the more hard and fast because Bosweli needed women enormously
and yet was often timid with them. Though he boasted that women of
all ages and tempers were fond of him, it is doubtful that he really
felt this to be the truth: the confidence displayed by the Don Juan is
more apparent than real. Casting a woman in a particular role do*
fined her for him, making her far easier to cope with than if he had
tried to understand her personality in full. His concept of his own
sexual role ranged erratically from "Mark Antony" to u l)<m Quix
ote," and his judgment of women was liable to be even loss sound,
especially when he was further unnerved by the prospect of mar
riage. 5
The glittering procession of women that passes in this volume* can
be divided into two groups: those whom Bosweli could marry and
those he could riot. In the latter category belong his "Italian an#ol/*
Girolama Piccolomim, that pathetic reminder of his stay in Siena; the
gardener's daughter; and the pert, rompish "Tarred of Moffat, Mrs,
Dodds. Among the theoretically eligible-, Bosweli was confronted by
the brilliant and frightening Dutch u termaganC" '/kHide; the "York'
shire beauty/' Miss Bosville; and the unidentified Miss II, whone per-
sonal "charms" were enhanced by her position as heiress to certain
vahiable mining properties.
The question of choice was complicated by the sometimes utiitwl*
5 Chauncey B, Tinker treats certain of BoswelPs love affairs perceptively in his
Young Bosuwll, 1,922, ch, 7.
Introduction xvii
sometimes conflicting claims of love and fortune. Among the more
important prospects, fortune was the predominant factor in the in-
stance of Catherine Blair, known to Boswell as "the Heiress" or "the
Princess." Social and property considerations made her an extremely
desirable match: a distant relative and Lord Auchinleck's former
ward, she was heiress to the estate of Adamtown. Boswell found her at
eighteen a a handsome, stately woman" with a good countenance, as
well as "sensible, good-tempered, cheerful, pious," but a sober and
prudential estimate did not satisfy him. He had to idealize her, to con-
vince himself that he lay entirely in her power, to adore her "like a
divinity" in the romantic groves of Auchinleck. And divinity was not
an end Miss Blair was shaped to. Temple thought her "a woman of
sense and prudence"; Boswcll's reports of her conversation show her
to have been naive and candid., a straightforward Scots young lady
far from the Dulcinca del Toboso or even Cleopatra that his "feverish
constitution" demanded. He must have sensed the disparity, however,
between the actual Miss Blair and his conception of her even before
she made it plain to him; his confession to Temple that he saw his
love for her as another chapter in his adventures indicates that he
saved himself from any real emotional commitment by safely "dis-
tancing" her. When he finally proposed, he could be sure of rejection.
Fortune also played a considerable part, in Boswell's affection for
"la belle Irlandaise," Mary Ann Boyd: "just sixteen, formed like a
Grecian nymph" - and almost, certain of a comfortable inheritance.
This was Boswell's Horatian romance; she was an Arcadian shep-
herdess and he a "Sicilian swain," He carved her initial on a tree, and
cut off a lock of her hair. But his pursuit of her into Ireland in the
spring of i 769 was hampered by a growing interest in Margaret
Montgomerie, his companion on the trip. Momentarily in the exhil-
aration of this Irish jaunt, he may have scon himself as Macheath, his
early hero from G&y'$Btfggar'$Op&ra:
How happy could I be with either
Were t'other dear charmer away,
but his heart had made its choice.
Margaret Montgomerie emerges as the most real figure in the
Bos well ian gallery of women, partly because a good number of her
xviii Introduction
letters have survived, and also because the ways in which Roswoll saw
her converge with what she was actually like. She was his first cousin,
poor, and two years older than he. Though Boswell did not think her a
beauty, he found her sexually very attractive, a "heathen goddess,"
Essentially she was a strong woman, neither hard nor aggressive, but
patient and enduring. She lacked Boswell's extraordinary appetite for
experience, preferring instead to live in peace with the world; she
realized, as he did not, the necessity for compromise and prudent re-
serve. But she knew what she wanted, and she was willing to tako it if
offered. What she wanted was James Boswell.
The relationship between them is moving in its gradual develop *
ment. Margaret had been Boswell's confidante for a number of years
before he took his interest in her seriously. Then he began to test her
and himself: did he love her enough, was she interested in someone
else, how much did she love him? Quarrels were followed by rap-
prochements. Her meagre dowry was a serious barrier; Lord Auchin-
leck was opposed to the marriage because she would bring neither
property nor sufficient money nor useful now connections to the fam-
ily, and Boswell felt the force of these objections. But seeing her now
as "my lady" and "my valuable friend, 1 "' Boswell slowly began to
realize that love was more important to him than fortune. His final
test was severe: would she be willing to go off to America with him
and live on almost nothing? When she answered that she would* even
Boswell was convinced that she loved him.
After this crisis, the two were on firmer ground. Their mutual love
and respect gave each confidence and a sense of value, Margaret foil
it her duty to be submissive, to study his happiness, to be entirely
guided by him, Imt she did not hesitate to speak her mind, whether it
meant offering advice about a cold or admitting her wish to see him*
Boswell insisted on his faults and his melancholy, feared that their
happiness might bo too great to last, but he had a due appreciation of
her "admirable heart and spirit," which strengthened him for the
responsibilities of marriage, A new note of maturity sounds in his
letters; whatever Lord Auchinleck or the world might think, their at-
tachment to each other was a credit to both, Boswell had found the
woman who best suited him.
Introduction xix
V
Any edition like the present is a desperate undertaking, since it
seeks to fulfil the double demands of truth and art, while it is inevita-
bly boxmded by the nature and inflexibility of the documents that
have happened to survive. In fiction one can impose whatever form is
desired on the cycles of nature; here the documents insist in part on
creating their own structure. Still, despite these limitations, it is pos-
sible to establish them within a framework, and this the editors have
tried to do. Basically we have presented Boswell as a private individ-
ual rather than as a public figure, realizing fully that the documents
selected emphasize certain aspects of a complex personality at the ex-
pense of others. How different an impression might be given if Bos-
well's letters to Mrs. Dodds had survived instead of those to Miss
Montgomerie! Only a full-scale biography, such as the one Professor
Pottle is now writing, can correct these deficiencies in perspective.
What Boswell reports, and how he reports it, are also of great sig-
nificance in determining the nature of this volume. He himself defied
"any man to write down anything like a perfect account of what he
has been conscious of during one day of his life, if in any degree of
spirits"; a man could mark external circumstances, "but the varia-
tions within, the workings of reason and passion . . . the colourings
of fancy, are too fleeting to be recorded." Literally this is true, but it is
arna/Jng how evocative his own writing is in its nice mixture of de-
scription and incident, and in its apparently uncalculated selection of
significant detail* What he reports is the scene before him, whether it
is the Edinburgh court room or the London stage-coach, and he re-
ports it as directly and undistortedly as he can. He avoids periphrasis
and elegant variation in his Journal, or rather they never seem to
enter his head. Simplicity, vitality, and precision arc the essential
characteristics of his writing, It is a triumph of the normal vision*
Such a style could not be sustained unless it reflected the man
within. George Colman, Boswell noted, "very justly observed that my
character was simplicity: not in a sense of weakness, but of being
plain and unaffected," This is the truth to which both his life and
$ A phrase* like "cherished the risible exertion" (21 February 1768) is extremely
unusual; perhaps, indeed, the only example of elegant variation in the volume.
xx Introduction
writings lead. One should not be misled by his candour or his uncer-
tain self-estimation into thinking him eccentric; the strengths and es-
pecially the weaknesses that can be confided to a journal are not nec-
essarily those exhibited in society. "Blending philosophy and raking;"
as he did, is no unusual matter, especially considering that the philos-
opher he most admired was Thomas Reid with his belief in "common
sense." (The common-sense vision, too, tends to be comic, in the
broadest sense, rather than tragic, though it is only coincidence that
this volume ends, like most English comedies, in marriage.) Boswell's
actions, like his aims, were for the most part ordinary; what distin-
guishes him is the extraordinary expressiveness of the great writer.
VT
The principal manuscripts from which this book has been com
piled are the following:
1. Journal in Scotland, 10 January to 3 June 1767; 61 quarto
pages and a title-page, numbered by Boswell 173, but pp. t 2, 71 $
and 2528 are now missing; ranging in size front 7$ by 6 to /| by (i|
inches, unbound.
2. Journal in Scotland, i January to 27 February 1 768: 34 quarto
pages and a title-page, numbered by Boswell through p, 32; roughly
7! by 6-| inches, unbound.
3. Journal in London and Oxford, 16 March to ? April 1768;
partly filled bound half-calf quarto notebook, 70 pages ('that is, i<>
leaves), numbered by Boswell 1108, but pp. 21-22, (>>> 70, 7 $-84,,
89-102, and 105-108 are missing. Pp. 21-22 are printed from a typo*
script made while that portion of the* toxt was intact, and the* groutor
part of p. 108 has been recovered from the "off* sot" on tho blank
page following.
4. Notes for Journal in London, 21 April to 16 May 1768; 7 un-
paged octavo leaves, written on both sides, roughly /| by 4! incites,
unbound. Notes for 24 to 30 March are written on the verso of the
third leaf.
5. Journal in London, 20 to 22 May 1768: 10 tin paged octavo
leaves, the last blank, roughly /| by 4! inches, unbound. These leaves
are enclosed in a wrapper endorsed by James Boswell, the Younger.
Introduction xxl
"Conversations with Lord Mansfield," and contain on the inside in
his hand an extract from the page of notes which originally preceded
them.
6. Journal of Journey to Ireland, 25 April to 7 May 1769: "Jour-
nal of the first part of my jaunt to Ireland in 1 769 with Miss Peggie
Montgomerie. I regret that I ceased when it would have been most
interesting": bound half-calf quarto notebook, 33 pages and a title-
page (17 leaves), numbered by Boswell 19^ 825, 2425, 2527, 30,
but continuous and complete; roughly 7^ by 6 inches.
7. Journal in Scotland, 12 June to 27 August 1769: enclosed in a
wrapper endorsed by Boswell, "Journal, Summer Session, 1 769": 100
numbered octavo pages (50 leaves); most are roughly 7^ by 4!
inches; unbound.
8. Journal in England, 28 August to 26 September 1 769: "Journal
of my jaunt to London., the Jubilee at Stratford upon Avon in memory
and honour of Shakespeare, and to visit ray old and most intimate
friend, the Reverend Mr. Temple in Devonshire, &c., &c., &c. Au-
tumn, 1 769": written from the other end of the notebook containing
No. 6; it consists of 122 pages and a title-page (62 leaves), numbered
by Boswell i -i 1 3, 1 041 14, but continuous. The lower half of the leaf
bearing pp. 3940 has been cut away, and pp. 4142 are missing. The
promise of the title is more ample than the performance, for the ac-
count: breaks off in London a month before the trip to Devonshire.
9. Memoranda and Notes for Journal in London, 3 September to
17 October 1769: 14 unpaged duodecimo leaves, roughly 6^ by 4
inches, stabbed and sewn, A fragment, leaves being missing both at
the beginning, and (apparently) at the end. There are no entries for
September 6, 8-10, 19, 22-23, 2 ^ 3 and October 6, but the portion
preserved seems to be complete as Boswell wrote it.
10. Notes for Journal in London., 24 September to 3 October, and
i 7 October 1 769; 4 unpaged quarto leaves, ranging in size from 9 by
7'i to 8$ by 7 inches, unbound.
1 1. Papers Apart, Manuscript of Life of Johnson, after 28 May
1768: Corrections and Additions for p. 333 of Boswoll's manuscript:
7 unnumbered quarto pages on 5 leaves; most are roughly gf by 8
incites, tmbound.
12* Papers Apart, Manuscript of Life of Johnson, 30 September
xxii Introduction
1769: Corrections and Additions for p. 335 of BoswelVs manuscript:
10 quarto leaves, rectos numbered by Boswcll i-io, sonic with addi-
tions on versos, roughly 9! by 8 inches, unbound; an octavo loaf
(roughly 8 by 4! inches) inserted at verso of p. 4.
13. Manuscript of Life of Johnson, 16-26 October i 769: 1 8 quarto
leaves, rectos numbered by Boswell 335-352, some with additions on
verso, roughly 9$ by 8 inches, unbound.
14. Papers Apart, Manuscript of Life of Johnson, 26-27 October
1769: Corrections and Additions marked U RC" [Roman Catholic? |
for p. 352 of Boswell's manuscript: 22 octavo leaves, rectos numbered
by Boswell 1-22, some with additions on versos, roughly 8 by />
inches, unbound.
15. Manuscript of /i/^o/7o/m,vo72, 8-10 November 1769: 3 quarto
leaves, rectos numbered by Boswell 351-353; matter of this quotation
on 351 v., 352 r. and v., 353 r.
1 6. Upwards of 550 letters sent or received by Boswell between 2 \
February 1 766 and 25 November 1 769. All but 62 of these letters arc*
at Yale. The letters to Boswcll in the Yale collection are originals as
arc Boswell's letters to John Johnston and W. J. Temple, (Ho retrieved
his letters to Johnston from Johnston's executor, and Temple returned
the few letters of this period that are now at Yale. The others to
Temple, which are in the Morgan Library, were discovered about
1840 in Boulogne, France.) Almost all the other lotions by Boswell at
Yale are drafts or copies. The originals of the letters from Margaret
Montgomcrie to Boswell with one exception were lost sometime after
the transfer of the papers to Colonel Isham. A typescript had boon
made previously, from which our text of the letters is taken. BoswelTs
Register of Letters, now at Yale, covers the period from the opening
of this volume to 21 October 1766, and from to Juno to <) November
1769: while neither complete nor entirely accurate,, it is often useful
for fixing dates and for proving the existence of lost letters,
17. Miscellaneous documents, 23 February 1766 to 25 November
1769. These include such items as Boswell's Consultation Book (the
original of which is in the National Library of Scotland), verses, two
assorted notebooks, and legal papers,
The Journals included in this volume and the Notes for 21 April
to 16 May 1768 were published in I<HO by Frederick A* Pottle in the
Introduction xxiii
seventh and eighth volumes of the Private Papers of James Boswell
from Malahide Castle, in the Collection of Lt.-Colonel Ralph Hey-
wood I sham,, an expensive limited edition of which only 570 copies
were printed. Some fifty-five of the eighty-five letters included in the
present volume have also previously appeared, most of them in the
Private Papers or in Professor Chauncey B. Tinker's Letters of James
Baswcll, Clarendon Press, 1924. Most of Boswell's letters to Temple
included here arid in Tinker had been previously published in Letters
of James Boswell Addressed to the Rev, W. J. Temple [ed. Sir Philip
Francis] 1857, and reprinted with an introduction by Thomas Sec-
combe in 1908. A group of newspaper items mainly about Corsica
composed by Boswell has been collected from The London Chronicle,
1 767. Outstanding among the material that now appears in print for
the first time are Boswell's letters to Temple about the gardener's
daughter, Temple's letters to Boswell, notes of a conversation between
Boswell and Johnson, and the manuscript versions of certain scenes in
The Life of Johnson. The fully written Journal is printed without
cuts, but other documents have been abridged whenever it has seemed
desirable. Notes saying that certain letters have not been recovered
should not be taken as indicating a policy of including all the letters
we have that are mentioned in the Journal, Such notes are intended to
explain why letters that sound important enough to be included in
this edition do not appear here.
The spelling, capitalization, and punctuation of both manuscripts
arid previously printed material have been reduced to accepted mod-
ern norms, and abbreviations and contractions have been expanded
at will. All quotations have been standardized in the same fashion.
The standard of spelling for all but proper names is The Concise Ox-
ford Dictionary (1951)- For place names F. H. Groome's Ordnance
Gazetteer of Scotland, J. G, Bartholomew's Survey Gazetteer of the
British /,V/<*A% and London Past and Present by Peter Cunningham and
1 1. B. Whoatley have been followed. Family names have been brought
Into conformity with the usage of The Dictionary of National Biog-
raphy^ Mrs. Margaret Stuart's Scottish Family History^ G. E. Co-
kayuo's Complete Baronetage and Complete Peerage, Sir James Bal-
four Paul's Scots Peerage, and various other special books of reference.
Names of speakers in conversations cast dramatically* whether sup-
xxiv Introduction
plied by Boswell or the editors, are put in small capitals without dis-
tinction. A few clear inadvertencies have been put right without
notice. Square brackets indicate words added where the manuscript
shows no defect,, and where there is no reason to suspect a slip on the
part of the writer; angular brackets indicate reconstruction of words
lost through defects in the manuscript, where the reconstruction is not
entirely certain. Those who wish to examine the unnormaH'/ecl and
unmodified text of the Journal are reminded that it is available in
Colonel Isham's Private Papers.
The annotation and editorial notes to this volume have been de-
signed for the general reader, though it is never easy to estimate how
much the general reader knows or wants to know. We have attempted
to provide essential information when it is available, and occasionally
to add sidelights which are intended to characterize a person or event
more firmly, but complete annotation such as full explication of
Boswell's legal cases lias been reserved for the research edition,
The indexes of this series are not mere finding tools., but supplement
the annotation. Tn particular., we usually reserve for the index the
function of supplying Christian names and professions of persons
mentioned.
An edition such as the present, one is based extensively on previous
published and unpublished work; it is, in fact, a highly collective and
co-operative enterprise*, which draws on the minute and multiple ac-
cumulation of facts, inferences, and guesses of at least a generation of
scholarship. As has been mentioned above, F, A, Pottle published a
text of BoswolVs Journals and certain of the Notes for this period in
Colonel Isham's privately printed Prirate Papers of JV/wv? /fawv//.
He also published the correspondence between Boswell and Margaret
Montgomerie, almost all of which appears in the eighth volume of the
Private Papers, Certain other letters and documents reprinted here
also first appeared in these volumes. As also mentioned above, Profes-
sor Tinker published many of BosweU's letters included here in his
Letters of James Boswell.
The basic annotation for this volume has been collected from
various sources. We have made grateful use of certain of the notes to
Professor Tinker's edition of the Lelter^ as well as, on occasion,, of
notes from the 'Hill-Powell edition of The Life of Johnson, Sir
Introduction xxv
Fergusson has generously answered many questions on Bos well's
Scottish background. We have drawn upon Professor Joseph Fola-
darc's unpublished Yale dissertation, "James Boswell and Corsica"
(2 vols., 1936), and Dr. Richard C Cole's unpublished Yale disserta-
tion, "The Correspondence of James Boswell in 1769" (1955). The
text of the Journal for i o January to 3 June 1 767 and i January to 27
February 1 768 was reviewed and annotation for it collected by Pro-
fessor Eleanor T. Lincoln as a class exercise in the Yale Graduate
School. Similar services were performed for the Journal and Journal
Notes from 16 March to 22 May 1 768 by Dr. Joseph L. Walsh; for the
Journal from 25 April to 7 May 1769 and from 12 June to 27 August
1769 by Professor Irving McKee; and for the Journal and Notes and
Memoranda from 28 August to 1 7 October 1 769 by Professor John P.
Kirby. Dr. Charles H. Bennett reviewed the entire text of the Journal.,
Notes, and Memoranda for the period, and made additions to the
annotation, especially for the Journal from 10 January to 3 June 1 767
and i January to 27 February 1768. He also drafted annotation for a
trade or reading edition. Using these materials and others resulting
from his own researches, Professor Pottle completed a text for a trade
edition over fifteen years ago. The subsequent recovery of papers from
Malahide Castle and other documents of the first importance necessi-
tated the planning of a quite different volume and extensive revisions
of and additions to the annotation.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The general plan of this volume, worked out by the editors, has
benefited considerably from the advice of the Editorial Committee.
Also, Mr, Licbert provided the artist with materials for the maps, and
Dr. Mot/dorf, who has been of assistance at every stage, assumed re-
sponsibility for collecting' the illustrations. Both they and Professor
I lilies read the proofs. Of the larger Advisory Committee, Professor
Clifford and Sir James Fergusson read the proofs and provided correc-
tions and suggestions for the notes.
In addition to those mentioned specifically elsewhere, we grate-
fully acknowledge the assistance of the following; C. Collcer Abbott,
Frederick K. Adams, Jr., Clcanth Brooks, Herbert Cahoon, W. Ken-
xxvi Introduction
neth Cornell, Miss Lillian de la Torre, Robert W. Hill, Dr. Harry M.
Keil, James M. Osborn, Paul Pickrel, Marshall Waingrow, Robert
Warnock^ and Charles McC. Weis. Our next-door neighbours in the
Walpole Office, George L. Lam and Warren H. Smith, have, as usual,
often taken time from their own pursuits to help us with one of our
problems. Finally we heartily thank all members of the office staff of
the Yale Editions of the Private Papers of James Boswell during the
past year: Miss Harriet Chidester, William F. Hawthorne '57, Robert
E. Murphy '58, Mrs. Marion S. Pottle, and Mrs. Phyllis 0. Warfol.
Mrs. Hope G. Waingrow is mainly responsible for the index.
F.K.
Yale University, New Haven
15 Aug'USl H)*)()
BOSWELL IN SEARCH OF A WIFE
1766-1769
This, my dear Peggie, iX 7 think, a just and true abstract of our
story. It docs you great honour, and I appear a better rnan titan people
have imagined. [BOS\VKI,L TO MARGAKKT MONTGOMKKIK, 2t AUGUST
S?? // - of / /
{^/C/oswell in \zJearcn of a
1766-1769
ire
SKETCH OF BOSWELL'S LIFE TO MARCH 1 766. James Boswell was born
in Edinburgh on 29 October 1 740, the eldest son of Alexanderjloswell,
whose title, Lord Aiuchinleck, indicated his position as a judge of the
supreme courts of Scotland. Of an old family and an important land-
owner in his home county, Ayrshire, Lord Auchinleck imparted his
strong sense of tradition and family pride to his son. Boswell studied
law at the Universities of Edinburgh and Glasgow, but his real inter-
ests were writing and attending the theatre. In the sspring of 1 760, he
ran away to London and briefly became a Roman Catholic. The Earl
of Eglinton, his father's Ayrshire neighbour, reclaimed him from this
lapse (which would have seriously disabled him in public life), and
introduced him u into the circles of the great, the gay, and the in-
genious." Admiring everything about London, Boswell tried to per-
suade his father to secure him a commission in the Foot Guards, but
Lord Auchinleck kept him at his studies in Edinburgh until he passed
the civil law examination in June 1762. Then, although refusing to
purchase a commission in the Guards, his father permitted him to
return to London to sec if he could obtain one through influence.
Boswell's ensuing year in London had two solid results: he wrote
the first long stretch of his great Journal, 1 and near the end of his stay
he met Samuel Johnson. The Journal vividly records his London im-
pressions and experiences, from parties at Northumberland House to
his affair with the actress Louisa and encounters with streetwalkers in
the Strand, while Johnson was to exert a permanent moral and intel-
lectual influence upon his life. Having failed to secure a commission,
Boswell agreed to become a lawyer as his father wished, and crossed
1 The journal for this year was discovered by Professor C. Colleer Abbott at
Fettercairn House in 1930, and published in 1950 under the title of Boswell's
London Journal, 1762-1763 by the McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc. (New
York) and William Hememann, Ltd, (London).
2 Sketch of BosirelTs Life to March \ 766
over to Utrecht in August 1 763 to continue his study of civil law. I lis
year in Holland was unhappy: he disliked the Dutch, and a combina-
tion of hard work and unaccustomed chastity profoundly depressed
him. But near the end of this year a relaxation of his religions and
moral standards and his interest in Belle de Zuylcn (Zelidc) , a Dutch
girl of noble family, helped to revive his spirits. 2
In June 1764, Boswell started off on his Grand Tour proper. He
visited a good number of the German courts., and, though ho failed to
meet Frederick the Great, he was presented to many people of the first
rank and became close friends with the Margrave of Badon-Durlach,
But greater successes were reserved for Switzerland,, whom ho met
Rousseau and Voltaire. Rousseaxx, though unwilling to become his
father-confessor, did encourage and reassure him. With Voltaire Bos-
well had a delightful conversation on religion. 11 Having made the two
great, antithetical spirits of the age conscious of his existence, Boswoll
headed happily over the Alps to Italy in January 1 765. Here, ho pur-
sued John Wilkes, sightseeing, and women with equal pertinacity,,
travelled with Lord Mountstuart, the Earl of Bute's eldest son, and
had a serious love affair in Siena with Girolama Picrolomini, Tho
most important event of his Continental tour, however, was Iris visit
to Corsica in October and November 1765. Ho was profoundly in-
fluenced by the sight of this small nation fighting for its liberty and,
by the memorable character of its leader, Pasquale de Paoll From
Corsica ho travelled to Genoa, and then through Franco to Paris. I 1 oar
ing there of his mother's doath ho hurried homo, after stopping brioflv
in London, where lie saw Johnson and Roussoau, and infortnod Pitt
about Corsica.' I lo arrived in Kdinburgh about /March t
2 $00 ftostivtl in Holland, 176$ '/?&/, W^ McGraw-Hill Hook Company,,
(Now York) and William Hoinomann, Ltd. (London).
n SOP Boswell on the (Irand Tour; Germany and Stritzcrttirtdi /7&J,
McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc. (Now York) and William tioinomatm, Ltd,
(London),
4 $0.0 Rvswt'tl on the (*ntnd Tour: Italy* Ctu'sira^ and, Franct\ tyi**} //A% HF^^
McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc. (Now York) and Williiun iloint'in*iii t Ltd.
(London),
Auchinleck, 28 April 1 766 3
[Boswell to William Johnson Temple] 5
Auchinleck House, 28 April 1 766
MY EVER DEAR TEMPLE, Many a curious letter have you had
from me in my different situations. A more extraordinary one than
this you have never had. I write to you while the delirium is really
existing. In short, Sir, the gardener's daughter who was named for
my mother/ and has for some time been in the family as a chamber-
maid is so very pretty that I am entirely captivated by her. Besides my
principle of never debauching an innocent girl, my regard for her
father, a worthy man of uncommon abilities, restrains me from form-
ing the least licentious thought against her. And, therefore, in plain
words, I am mad enough to indulge imaginations of marrying her.
Only think of the proud Boswell, with all that you know of him, the
fervent adorer of a country girl of three and twenty. I rave about her.
T was never so much in love as I am now. My fancy is quite inflamed.
It riots in extravagance.
I know as well as you can tell me that a month's or perhaps ten
days' possession of this angelic creature would probably make her
appear to me insipid as does to you Celia "who at Berwick deigns to
dwell. m I have a clear remembrance of my being tormented with
many such passions, all which went off in a little time, and yet,
Temple, I am still dreaming of delightful nuptials. She and I were in
a manner brought up together. As far back as I can remember, we
used to build houses and make gardens, wade in the river and play
upon, the sunny banks. I cannot consider her as below me. For these
six or seven years past I have seen her little. Before I went abroad she
had begun to be timid and reserved, for Lord Eglinton admired her
r> Temple, Boswell's one-time classmate at the University of Edinburgh, and
closest friend, was now at Cambridge qualifying himself for holy orders. Though
the two shared an int.ore.st in politics and literature, their intimacy was based
on an unreserved trust and openness and an appreciation of each other's
temperament,
This letter was not sent until 1 7 May. See, p. 5.
7 Euphemia. Possibly the gardener's daughter's last name was Bruce.
* Celia is Ann ("Nancy") Stow, Temple's first cousin to whom he was more or
less engaged. Thomas Gray later nicknamed her "Madame Minx." Boswell had
stopped to see her at Berwick on his way north. The quotation is unidentified.
4 Auchinleck, 28 April i 766
extremely and wanted to seduce her, 9 For my part I saw nothing more
about her than in many good-looking girls in the neighborhood. But
since my return from my travels, I have been quite enchanted with
her. She has a most amiable face, the prettiest foot and ankle. She is
perfectly well made, and has a lively, genteel air that is irresistible.
I take every opportunity of being with her when she is putting on
fires or dressing a room. She appears more graceful with her besom
than ever shepherdess did with a crook. T pretend great earnestness to
have the library in good order and assist her to dust it I cut my gloves
that she may mend them. I kiss her band. T tell her what, a beauty I
think her. She has an entire confidence in me and has no fear of any
bad design; and she has too much sense to form an idea of having me
for a husband. On the contrary, she talks to me of not refusing a good
offer if it is made to her. Enchanting creature! must she be enjoyed by
some schoolmaster or farmer? Upon my honour, it exits me to the
heart. If she would not many anybody else, I think I could let her
alone. That we may not be too often seen together, she and I write
notes to each other, which we lay under the cloth which covers my
table. This little curious correspondence^ which to her is an innocent
amusement, makes my heart beat continually. She has a fine temper*
She has read a great deal, for I always supplied her with books. In
short, she is better than any lady I know.
What shall I do, Temple? Shall 1 lay my account with all its con-
sequences and espouse her? Will not I he exquisite languish of her eyes
charm away repentance? Shall I not pass a life of true natural felicity
with the woman T love and have a race of healthy and handsome* chil-
dren? Good heavens! what, am I about? It would kill my father* Have
1 returned safe from London., from Italy, and from l*Yuneo to throw
myself away on a servant maid? You might apply to mo what was
said of St. Paul when the viper fastened upon his hand after the ship'
wreck: "Whom though he hath escaped the sea, yet vengeance suf
fercth not to live." 1
I have got a lock of her hair which 1 dote upon. She allowed me to
cut it off. If I should marry her, I would never suffer her to dress better
than she docs now. I think I could pass my whole life agreeably with
For Alexander Montgomeri<\ t*nth Earl of Kg] in ton, ,w p. J.
1 Acts 28, 4,
Auchinleck, 28 April 1 766 5
her assistance. I am not fit for marriage in all the forms. A lady would
not be compliant enough, and would oblige me to harass myself with
an endless repetition of external ceremony and a most woeful main-
taining of proper conduct. Whereas my dear girl would be grateful
for my attachment, would be devoted to me in every respect, would
live with me just as a mistress without the disgrace and remorse. After
all my feverish joys and pains, I should enjoy calm and permanent
bliss in her arms. Was there ever such madness?
My friend, give me your hand. Lead me away from what is prob-
ably a delusion that would make me give up with the world and sink
into a mere animal. And yet is it not being singularly happy that after
the gloom I have endured, the dreary speculations I have formed, and
the vast variety of all sorts of adventures that I have run through, my
mind should not be a bit corrupted, and I should feel the elegant
passion with all the pure simplicity and tender agitations of youth?
Surely I have the genuine soul of love. When dusting the rooms with
my charmer, am I not like Agamemnon amongst the Thracian girls?
All this may do for a summer. But is it possible that I could imagine
the dear delirium would last for life? I will rouse my philosophic
spirit, and fly from this fascination. I am going to Moff at 2 for a month.
Absence will break the enchantment. I charge you in honour not to
mention it. Write me how you are affected by this letter. My dear
Temple, I am ever yours,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[Boswell to Temple]
MoJEfat, 1 7 May 1 766
MY DEAREST FRIEND, I have been a week here, and to prevent
that rodomontade of which you have frequently accused me, let me
toll you at once that my love for the handsome chambermaid is al-
ready like a dream that is past, I kept the extravagant epistle which
was to inform you of it till 1 should see if absence would not free me
from the delirium, I can now send you with a good grace what would
certainly have alarmed you, but will now be truly amusing. Romantic
as I am, it was so strange a scene in the play of my life that I myself
2 A watering-place in Dumfriesshire, about a day's journey away.
6 Moffat, 1 7 May 1 766
was quite astonished at it. I give you my word of honour it was
literally true. There are few people who could give credit to it. But
you, who have traced me since ever I fairly entered upon the stage,
will not doubt of it. It is a little humbling; to be sure. It was the effect
of great force and great weakness of mind. I am certainly a most
various composition. Pray recollect my letter from Rotterdam," and
compare it with the inclosed. They are both genuine effusions, both
original pictures of the same man at different times.
I can tell you though, Temple, such a man as I am must be very
much upon his guard. T believe my safest way will be to give you a
promise that I never will marry without your approbation; indeed
you would not do amiss to make me such a promise too, for you was as
seriously resolved to marry that girl at Berwick as ever I was to do a
thing in my life! Arid had you married her, what a pretty figure
would you have made by this time! For she has an old look, an auntish
wisdom, awkward manners, and 1 imagine a narrow heart. She would
grudge me coffee.
I am persuaded, Temple, that true exalted friendship never was
stronger than it is between you and me. It has grown with ourselves
and is in, more vigour than ever. It has stood the trial of many a long
absence and of my extensive travels, notwithvStanding wliich you hav<
kept up with me, as I told you with sincere joy in London. It has one
more severe trial to stand our marriage. Few have ever enjoyed the
singular happiness that we have. Let us valuo it and preserve it* If we
cannot have wives that will be united as are their husbands, lot us
take care to have such as will not offend us, as will be complaisant and
agreeable and entertain us with elegance* I confess, my dear TempU%
that you are the best adviser. You are more clear and determined than
I am. After having seen your lovely Nancy* who upon honour looked
so sour that I suspected she was the elder sister, 4 instead of giving yon
a spirited admonition to have nothing to do with 'her, I indolently
thought: let him please himself. His grand ideas of rising in the state,
3 Boswell had been extremely depressed when he first arrived in Holland In
1763: "Would you believe it? I ran frantic up and down this street^ crying out,
bursting into tears, and groaning from my innermost heart** (fiomw/i in J7o/
land, 16 August 1763),
4 When Bosweli sent a visiting-can! to Ann Stow, her eider ist*r had burned it
in front of the boy who delivered it.
Moffat, 1 7 May 1 766 7
of climbing the rocky steep of exalted ambition, and rivalling the
most renowned in every age are now as if they never had been. Why
should not his gay ideas of an angelic partner of his soul share the
same fate? I ask you pardon*, Temple. To rise in the world is not
always given to superior merit, unless we allow a brazen assurance
and unceasing forwardness to be superior to the merits which you and
I now value so much. But an amiable wife and elegant living may be
obtained by such philosophical men as we are, without either sur-
prising strokes of chance or uncommon assistance from patrons; and
therefore, my dearest friend, let us still please ourselves with the
prospect of family happiness.
Miss Bosville is a charming young lady. 5 1 got her to speak a good
deal before T left London and found her extremely sensible. She never
dances. That I should have insisted,' 5 for no man shall ever pull about
my wife. She loves reading and walking, and does not tire of six
months in the country. But she is very fond of routs. What can that
mean? Will she not cure of it? She speaks French very prettily. I dined
three or four times a week at her father's while I stayed in London. He
has written to me since I came to Scotland. I am to go and see them in
Yorkshire. We must take time.
As to Zelide I am quite at my ease, 7 1 have had a letter from her
father telling me that he took my proposal in very good part; at the
same time he informed me that things were so far advanced between
his daughter and M. le Marquis, that the Marquis was actually apply-
ing to the Pope and the King of Sardinia for leave to marry a Protes-
tant, and that therefore he and his daughter were bound in honour to
fulfil their promises to him. As, however, the event of this application
5 Elizabeth Diana, eldest daughter of Godfrey Bosville of Gimthwaite, York-
shire, whom Boswell regarded as the chief of his "clan." Boswell thought her
"vastly pretty: black hair, charming complexion, quite modest" (Boswell on the
Grand Tour: Italy, Corsica, and France, 16 February 1766). The throe names
Bosville, Boswell, and Boswall are variants of the original French, Boisville.
<J That is, insisSted upon.
7 Belle de Zuylen, whom Boswell always refers to as "Zelide," was the attractive,
intelligent, and unconventional daughter of a noble Dutch family. Boswell, al-
ternately fascinated and repelled by her, had made a very tentative proposal of
marriage to her through her father the previous January, For a connected ac-
count of the whole Z61ide affair, see Boswell in Holland, Correspondence with
Belle de Zuylen,
8 Moffat, 17 May 1766
was uncertain, if I continued to be of the same mind after they were
free of the Marquis, he would then mention my proposal to Mademoi-
selle and have the honour to be umpire between us. 8 Nothing could
be more genteel and friendly. I am glad I am off with Zelide. A bel
esprit would never do at Auchinleck. My father and I have talked
fully of her. He could not bear such a woman. You may remember
you laughed very heartily at my finding fault with a pretty Dutch-
woman. But my father judges extremely well when he finds fault with
a clever Dutchwoman. "I love," says he, "one who has been accus-
tomed to play in concert, be the music heavy or be it lively. For such
a person will make harmony in any country. But one who has played
in discord with those around her will hardly play in tune at all."
Cum. fiier is Romae, Romano invito more is sound sense; 1 ' and Otway
says with much truth,
Avoid
The man that's singular , . .
His spleen outweighs his brains. 3
Zelide who must always shine, and Stockdalc who is sublimated and
thinks you below him in genius are weak beings, and would make ono
miserable to live with thorn." "Tis true (hoy can't help their levity,
Very well. Neither could they help it were the* one humpbacked arid
the other palsied. I am sorry for them. But 1 would not join my exist-
ence with theirs.
Alter all, Zelicle may perhaps take up^
But this is a flight. Now, Temple, let me explain to you how I am
already so free of the charming chambermaid Absence alone was not
enough. But I have found at Moffat a lady just in the situation of the
one whom you formerly dallied with in Northumberland. Hut mine
has no hope of ever being as yours now is. so that she is at full liberty.
and therefore the king can do no wrong. I am quite devoted to her. 1
H Belle's Catholic suitor was the Marquis de Bellegimk, a nobk of Savoy mid n
colonel in the Dutch Service,
9 "When in Rome, live as the Romans" (St Ambros^ "cum" for "i f *)
1 Altered from Otway's Orphan, II L i, 7*5-77*
2 The Rev. Perdval StockdaK A friend of Temple\s one-tune army officer tunned
clergyman, became a minor poet, critic, and dramatist,
3 Obsolete for "reform."
Moffat., 1 7 May i 766 g
dare write no more, but when we meet you shall hear of Elysium.
Love reconciles me to the Scots accent, which from the mouth of a
pretty woman is simply and sweetly melodious. It is indeed, and I
could engage to make Temple himself swear so in a few months. I am
all health, affection, and gratitude.
I came to Moffat to wash off a few scurvy spots which the warmer
climates of Europe had brought out on my skin. I drink the waters,
and bathe regularly, and take a great deal of exercise, 4 and have a fine
flow of spirits. I am as happy as an unmarried man can be. The felices
ter et amplius* enchants me as the mitre or the genteel chintz arm-
chairs in a handsome parlour do you. This shall be my last irregular
connection. I shall be attached to the generous woman for ever. I am
plaguing you with romantic sallies, my Temple. Forgive me, and it
shall be made up to you before I sleep.
I wrote you a glowing letter from Prussia and observed that our
fellow collegians had got before us in life. Do you remember what
you and I used to think of Dundas? He has been making 700 a year
as an advocate, has married a very genteel girl with io n ooo fortune,
and is now appointed His Majesty's Solicitor General for Scotland. I
should like to hear your remarks upon what I tell you. 15
If you have not taken orders, I shall be out of all patience. Down
with you to Devonshire, you dilatory dog. 7 And do riot use your living
as you have done the sighing and vulgar Celia. 8 1 will abuse her. So let
4 Moffat lies among some of the most impressive scenery of the Border, and
serves as a centre for excursions.
5 "Thrice happy arid more [are they who are united in passionate love]"
(Horace, Odes, L xiii. 17-18).
Henry Dundas, of the great legal family of Dundas of Arniston, was the
younger half-brother of Robert Dundas, Lord President of the Court of Session.
He later became Lord Advocate, Treasurer of the Navy, Home Secretary, and
the political boss of Scotland. His wife, Elizabeth Rermie, ran away with a Cap-
tain Fawkener in 1778. Temple, Boswell, and Dundas had been schoolmates at
the University of Edinburgh, Dundas being" a couple of yours younger than
Boswell.
T Temple was ordained priest in the Church of England on 21 September 1766,
His cousin once removed, Wilmot Vaxighan, fourth Viscount Lisburne, presented
him with the living of Mamhoad in Devonshire, worth about 80 a year,
8 Temple confessed, his irresolution in regard to Miss Stow in his letter of 17
March 1766 to Boswell: "It was foolish of me to think of marrying any person in
i o Moffat, 1 7 May 1766
me alone. I must make you laugh, though. One morning before I left
London as I was going along Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, to Miss
Bosville's, whom did I meet but our friend Clack. BOSWELL. "Your
servant, Mr. Claxton." CLAXTON. a Your servant, Sir." BQSWKIX. "Any
news from Temple?" CLAXTON. "No, but there's a letter come for him
in a woman's hand." BOSWELL. "It is from her^ I dare say. We must
have him married." CLAXTON. "Yes, yes, he wants to be off, but he
shan't be off." BOSWELL. "No, no, the dog shan't be off. Do you watch
him there and I'll watch him here, arid I defy him to break away." tt
Thus, Temple,, upon honour did your two friends commune con-
cerning you.
Mr. Pitt wrote me a most polite ministerial letter in answer to the
one which I sent him with your approbation. He said he would be glad
to "have the honour of my acquaintance" when he came to town. I
accordingly waited on him and had a noble conference, all which I
have in manuscript and hope to feast you most luxuriously with it.
Mr. Pitt is a great admirer of the Corsican Chief; "It may bo said of
General Paoli what Cardinal de Retz said of the great Duke of IVlon-
trose, c C'est uri de ces hommes qu'on no trouve plus quo dans les Viw
de Plutarque.' ' 51 Thus did Demosthenes talk of Kpaminondas.
So Mr. Gray thinks I should publish my Account of Corsica soon, 2
I am afraid he has had a fit of ennui and just wished for something to
amuse him, 1 am, however, certainly to give you something concern-
ing Corsica next winter, and am to do it with my father's a pprohat ion,
Pray offer my respectful compliments to Mr* Gray, and toll him that
as I was but five weeks in Corsica, T cannot he exported to havo ma-
terials enough to furnish anything like a complete account of it, But
that part of the world, but especially one so disagreeably connected, . , The
girl has some sense but no constancy."
9 This expands a conversation already printed in tttmwftl on ///*" (trttntl Tour:
Italy., Corsiaa, and Franct^ a i February 1 76(5.
1 Boswell's correspondence with Pitt hen* referred to and the record of the
"noble conference" are printed in Bosiwlt on th& Grand Tour: ltal\\ Cormw, ant I
France, 17-23 February 1766, He used Pitt's remark about Paoli, "Hi In one of
those men who are no longer to be found but in the Livtw of Plutmvh," IH the
last sentence of Corswa.
-For BoswelPs interest in Corsica, see Introduction,, p. xiv. Thomas Gnt>% the
poet, was a cherished friend of Temple's at Cambridge*.
M off at, 1 7 May 1 766 1 1
that I hope to tell my countrymen so much concerning the brave
islanders and their glorious leader that all the true lovers of liberty
must admire them and be interested for them. Quorum pars magna
fui 3 was really the case; so that I shall be obliged to write like an
egotist, and would keep my eye on Bishop Burnet. 4 Would Mr. Gray
give me his advice as to the form in which I should write? Shall I
make it a continued narration? or memoirs? or letters? What shall be
the title? Some Account of the Present State of Corsica An Account
of the Island of Corsica A Tour to Corsica Letters written from
Corsica Memoirs concerning Corsica and General de Paoli? What
shall be the motto
Manus haec, mirnica tyrannis,
Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietern? 5
Would Mr. Gray advise me as to this?
I am going very well on with the law, which I now like. As we
grow older we get a stronger relish for solid truth. The mind is com-
fortably nourished with jurisprudence. Metaphysics are made-dishes,
and the belles-lettres are sweetmeats and liqueurs. In short, Temple,
I am soon to be a counsellor. I am ever, with the warmest affection,
your friend and servant,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[EDITORIAL NOTE : Having freed his mind of the gardener's daugh-
ter arid entangled himself instead with Mrs. Dodds, the lady at Moffat
mentioned in the preceding letter, Boswell arrived in Edinburgh in
the middle of June to complete the preliminaries necessary for his
admission to the bar. Here he printed his Latin thesis on a title of the
Pandects, De supcllectile legata (Concerning Legacies of Household
Furniture), and having gone through the formality of defending it
before the Faculty of Advocates, he was admitted advocate on 29 Jxily,
[Young advocates working up practice commonly accepted ccmrt
appointments as counsel for poor clients, and put themselves in the
a "I played a large part" (Virgil, Aeneid, ii, 6).
4 Gilbert Buraet, Bishop of Salisbury, wrote a valuable History of My Own
Time, but the egotism displayed in it has sometimes been ridiculed.
8 "This hand, hostile to tyrants, seeks peace and quiet under liberty with the
sword" (Algernon Sidney). It was not the motto adopted.
1 2 June 1 766 to March 1 767: Summary
way of such business by attending the circuits of the Justiciary Court.
Bos well had been a member of the Faculty only about eight weeks
when, at Glasgow in the autumn of 1766, he was handed his first
criminal client one John Reid, a poor man of bad reputation who was
accused of stealing no fewer than one hundred and twenty sheep from
a farm in Peeblesshire, driving them off to Glasgow, and there offer-
ing them for sale to the butchers. The charge was of course capital.
There is no doubt that Reid had on occasion stolen sheep, for he later
confessed as much to Boswell; nor was there any question that in this
case he had offered stolen sheep for sale. But he persisted in maintain-
ing that he had been imposed upon: he had had the flock* he said,
from another man who had commissioned him to drive them to Glas-
gow and sell them. Boswell, who became convinced of his innocence,
threw himself into the case with greater ardour than the Court
thought appropriate. He managed to get the trial postponed to t/>
December, in Edinburgh, and secured the assistance of Andrew Cros-
bie, a fine but erratic lawyer who had a fondness for this sort of ease.
The Lord Advocate countered by clapping on a second charge* of
sheep-stealing, committed as far back as 1 763. Reid lost his nerve and
proposed to settle for transportation, but was persuaded to stick it out*
Boswell provided him with physical and spiritual comfort : ho paid for
his food in the Tolbooth and gave him a religious book with an in-
scription saying that if he could not save him from punishment in this
world, he hoped at least to assist him in obtaining' mercy in the world
to come. At the trial the prosecution presented many witnesses and
the Lord Advocate, the Solicitor General, and three other advocates
spoke for the Crown. Boswell and Croshie presented no witnesses at
all, but talked to such good effect that the jury returned a Scots verdict
of "not proven," whereupon Reid was discharged, The judges of
the Justiciary Court (one of whom was I/ord Auehmleek) denounced
the verdict as against the evidence, and the Lord Justice-Clerk a few
months later made a spiteful reference to it in giving* his division in
the Douglas caxise. By such xeal and imprudence at the very start of
his legal career, Boswell made practically certain that he would
never attain to a commanding position in his profession.
('The work closest to BoswelFs heart, however* was his projected
book on Corsica, Despite recurrences of the malaria he had picked up
June 176610 March 1 767: Summary 13
in Corsica, he made a determined effort to collect the materials he
needed, both from printed accounts and from manuscript information
furnished by the Reverend Andrew Burnaby, who had also toured the
country; John Dick, British consul at Leghorn; Count Antonio Riva-
rola, Sardinian consul at Leghorn; and through General Paoli him-
self. By March 1 767, he was ready to write. Meanwhile, he continued
a newspaper campaign he had begun on the Continent to engage
sympathy for the Corsicans with various items, both true and in-
vented, intended to keep Corsica in the public eye. The most bizarre
of his "inventions," as Boswell called them, was a Corsican courier,
Signor Romanzo, who travelled mysteriously from European capital
to capital, conferring with high dignitaries about aid to the Corsican
cause. These items, to Boswell's delight, were copied in good faith by
other periodicals and circulated widely throughout Europe.]
[Received ?i September, Lord Hailes to Boswell] 6
Newhailes, 29 August 1766
DEAR SIR ... As to Corsica, work as hard as you can, while the
ideas are fresh in your memory. But pray be very short in your topog-
raphy. Rather correct the errors of others where they are wrong than
transcribe their observations where they are right. Do not make your
vestibule too large for your house. Make your revolutions as rapid as
those in The Rehearsal; 7 ride post through the wilds of history; who
cares to know the ancient history of Corsica? It is the virtues and
actions of their present leader which renders the Corsicans an object
of public curiosity. If yoxi publish any letters, sacrifice to modesty
arid leave out yourself. By drawing a score where self was mentioned,
you will make the world think that you write to instruct it, not to
puff yourself. Let your anecdotes be characteristical, of rain and wind
and bad lodgings as little as you please. Paschal is more pleasing to
an English ear than Pasquale. Do not omit anything that can give us
Sir David Dalrymple, a jxadge in the Court of Session with the style of Lord
Hailes, was one of Boswell's early models, and a mediator of differences between
him and his father. A scholarly and respected historian, he advised Boswell on
literary and antiquarian matters.
7 Buckingham's play, which ridiculed the heroic tragedy popular in the Restora-
tion period.
14 Auchinleck, i September 1766
a clear idea of that hero; remember he is the chief figure, he must
come forward; the others, even yourself, must keep back. But why do
I thus talk to you who have so lately seen painting in perfection; you
are now to adapt the knowledge you have learnt; from history paint-
ing to history writing the transition is obvious. . . .
I beg my best respects to your father, and ever am, dear Sir, your
most obedient and faithful servant,
DAV. DALRYMPLK.
[Received c. 2 September, Samuel Johnson to Boswell ] B
London, 21 August t 766
DEAR SIR, The reception of your thesis put me in mind of my
debt to you. Why did yoti dedicate it to a man whom I know you do
not much love?" I will punish you for it by telling you that your I ,at in
wants correction. . . . *
I have now vexed you enough and will try to please you. Your
resolution to obey your father I sincerely approve," but do not ac-
custom yourself to enchain your volatility by vows: they will sorno
time leave a thorn in your mind, which you will perhaps never be
able to extract or eject. Take this warning, it is of great importance,**
The study of the law is what you very justly term it, copious and
generous; and in adding your name to its professors^ you have done
tt Printed from The Life of Johnson, the second sentence restored as described in
the following note,
"The Life has "Why did you * + ***** + *+ (v " f m f the transcript of the Inter which
Boswell used as prmter\s copy contained the missing words, and they can easily
be read through his deleting stroke. The thesis was dedicated to his old Italian
travelling companion. Lord MountstuarU the eldest son of Gcorgo HPs former
Prime Minister and intimate friend, the third Karl of Bute. Handsome., convert
tional, and indolent, he thought Boswell had "fine old noble ideas" but mis
trusted the "strange inc.ohtwncy" of his temper (Mountstuart to Boswell, ac|
May 1766), They had quarrelled violently in Italy, but were now .supposed to
be on friendly terms,
1 Johnson's animadversions on BoswelFs Latin are omitted*
B a For Boswell's relations with his father., see Introduction, p. x.
* { Boswell remarks in the Life (21 August 1766! that in u previous letter to John-
son he had complained of irresolution and u ma<ie a vow as a security for gmtd
conduct,"
Auchinleck, 2 September 1766 15
exactly what I always wished, when I wished you best. I hope that
you will continue to pursue it vigorously and constantly. You gain,
at least, what is no small advantage, security from those troublesome
and wearisome discontents which are always obtruding themselves
upon a mind vacant, unemployed, and undetermined.
You ought to think it no small inducement to diligence and per-
severance that they will please your father. We all live upon the hope
of pleasing somebody; and the pleasure of pleasing ought to be great-
est, and at last always will be greatest, when our endeavours are ex-
erted in consequence of our duty.
Life is not long, and too much of it must not pass in idle delibera-
tion how it shall be spent; deliberation, which those who begin it by
prudence and continue it with subtlety, must, after long expense of
thought, conclude by chance. To prefer one future mode of life to
another, upon just reasons, requires faculties which it has not pleased
our Creator to give us.
If, therefore, the profession you have chosen has some unexpected
inconveniencies, console yourself by reflecting that no profession is
without them; and that all the importunities and perplexities of busi-
ness are softness and luxury compared with the incessant cravings of
vacancy and the unsatisfactory expedients of idleness.
Haec sunt quae nostra potui te voce monere;
Vade,
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 wore 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. I am, dear Sir, your most humble servant,
SAM. JOHNSON.
4 "Such are the counsels which I am able to give you; go, act" (altered from
Virgil, Acncid 9 in. 461-462).
i6 Auchinleck, 18 September 1766
[Boswell to William Pitt, Earl of Chatham] 5
Auchinleck, County of Ayr, 1 8 September i 766
MY LORD: When (to use your own words) you was "William
Pitt, a plain member of Parliament," you expressed a high regard for
the Corsicans and their illustrious Chief. I have ever remembered
that conversation which Mr. Pitt honoured me with, and 1 own my
hopes of relief to the brave Islanders have been very great.
May I presume to ask the Earl of Chatham if he will befriend a
noble and unfortunate little nation whom I have seen with the en-
thusiasm of liberty, and for whom 1 shall be interested while my
blood is warm? Pardon me, my Lord, if I intrude upon you, and be-
lieve me to bo, with the highest consideration, your Lordship's most
obedient and most humble servant,
JAMES BOSWKM..
[Bos well to Samuel Johnson*] 6
Auohinlerk* (5 November i 766
MlJCH ESTEEMED AND PEAK SlK, 1 plead not gUllty t<> . , ,
Having thus, I hope, cleared myself of the charge brought against
me, I presume you will not be displeased if I escape the punishment
which you have decreed for me unheard. If you have discharged the
arrows of criticism against an innocent nuuu you must rejoice to find
they .have missed him., or have not been pointed so as to wound him.
To talk no longer in allegory , I am., with all deference, going to
offer a few observations in defence of my Latin., which you have
found fault with. . . .
Might I venture to differ from you with regard to the utility of
5 This loiter was not sent until November, The original is missing hut the copy
of it which Boswoll enclosed in his next letter (see p, 17 ) is among the Chatham
papers in the Public Record Office, BoswelFs draft, which is practically identical
with his copy, also survives. Pitt had formed a ministry and been made Karl of
Chatham in the summer of 1766.
Printed from The Life of Johnson, The hiatus in the first sentence, s Eoswell
explains in a noto, covers a "private transaction'* referred to in Johnson 1 * letter,
that is, to Boswell's alleged dislike of Mountstuart, In this case the copy for fhr
Life does not preserve the missing words.
Auchinleck, 6 November 1766 17
vows? I am sensible that It would be very dangerous to make vows
rashly, and without a due consideration. But I cannot help thinking
that they may often be of great advantage to one of a variable judg-
ment and irregular inclinations. I always remember a passage in one
of your letters to our Italian friend Baretti, 7 where, talking of the
monastic life, you say you do not wonder that serious men should put
themselves under the protection of a religious order, when they have
found how unable they are to take care of themselves. For my own
part, without affecting to be a Socrates, I am sure I have a more than
ordinary struggle to maintain with the Evil Principle; and all the
methods I can devise are little enough to keep me tolerably steady in
the paths of rectitude. ... I am ever, with the highest veneration,
your affectionate humble servant,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[Boswell to Chatham] 8
Edinburgh-, 3 January 1 767
MY LORD: It is now more than three months since I took the
liberty to write your Lordship a short letter in behalf of the Corsicans,
of which a copy is now transmitted lest it should not have come to
your hands.
I have received a letter from General Paoli In which he thus talks
of Mr. Pitt: u La pubblica farna esalta fino alle stelle II talent! del Sig-
nor Pitt, ma la relaziorie che ella mi fa della conversazione avuta con
esso lui mi ricmpic ancora di maggior ammlrazione e dl attaccamento
per la buonta del cuore di questo Pcricle della Gran Bretagna." 9
My Lord, I wrote to General Paoli the many strong and noble ex-
pressions which you uttered to me in a private conference with as
much eloquence as over Mr, Pitt displayed in the fullest assembly.
And, my Lord, 1 trust you will now show a generous sincerity,
I would recommend to your Lordship, Mr. Dick, His Majesty's
Consul at Leghorn, as a gentleman of great information and judg-
7 A translator and critic, whom Boswell had mot in Venice in 1765,
8 Bosweir.s draft. The original has not been recovered.
g "Public report exalts Mr, Pitt's talents to the stars, but the report you give me
of the conversation you had with him fills me with even greater admiration and
love for the goodness of heart of this Pericles of Great Britain,"
i8 Edinburgh, 3 January 1767
ment as to everything that concerns the Mediterranean, and I would
recommend him as a man of worth and spirit who is warmly attached
to the brave Corsicans. He will give your Lordship all the light you
can desire as to the advantages which Great Britain might derive
from an alliance with Corsica, either in the way of trade or for the
conveniency of war, and will faithfully execute whatever commands
your Lordship may lay upon him.
Your Lordship knows that a proclamation stands in force* by
which the subjects of Great Britain are prohibited from holding any
intercourse with the malcontents of Corsica, If your Lordship would
only get us that proclamation annulled., it would be of great conse-
quence in the mean time. Corsica seems to be particularly unlucky.
The Swiss and the Dutch had powerful assistance in recovering- their
liberties. But the gallant Islanders for whom I am concerned have
now been in arms for the glorious cause nine and thirty years, and not
a state in Europe has interposed in their behalf.
Let me plead with your Lordship for Corsica. Let me put you in
mind of the people animated with the spirit; of liberty,, whom the
Romans stood forth and protected against the great King of Asia, and
in so doing gained more real honour than by the most extensive con-
quests. 1 And lot me recall to your Lordship the excellent old fable of
the lion and the mouse, Far be it from me to attempt pointing out anv
measures to be taken by the Government of my country. But surely a
great free nation may befriend a small one. Is Great Britain now
afraid of Franco, or does she owe anything to Genoa?
As an advocate for Corsica I look tip to the Karl of Chatham, and I
cannot but hope for a favourable answer*
I have the honour to romain n <fec,
1 Th<* eighth chapter of 1 Maccabees tells how the Jewx appealed for protection
to the Romans. Boswell quoted It at length in ( Ws/ra,
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Boswell's Journal had lapsed since 23 Feb-
ruary 1766. He started to keep it again in condensed form on i Jan-
iiary 1767^ but the first leaf, bearing the entries for i January to the
middle of 10 January, is missing. When the record begins, the scene
appears to be Arniston House, where Boswell is visiting Robert Dun-
das,, Lord President of the Court of Session.]
SATURDAY ID JANUARY .... Then in library; found some
curious remarks on Corsica in Graevius. President took them up at
once before you amazing quickness. Hearty all afternoon; quite at
home. Darns 2 with Miss Dundas.
SUNDAY 11 JANUARY. Laird of Dundas [invited the company
to church] and all went. You alone here; library all forenoon. . . .
Hearty at dinner. Bottle of claret [for] each; second one [being-
brought] I grumbled, "Shall leave the half till night." . . . Good
strong conversation against infidelity, &c. Evening with ladies; read
alternately, all of you, Rambler and Bible.
MONDAY 12 JANUARY. Breakfasted early. President walked
you about in room, and told you with fire how Justiciary Court
brought itself down sending one judge by himself to circuit [and by]
not sending impertinent counsel to prison. Complained of putting im-
proper people into that office; talked of political connections with
masterly force. You came all in in coach. Miss Dundas, fine girl.
Liked her very well; was retenu? for fear of appearing lover. Quite
proper; was really sorry to think of her and her sister, who might per-
haps become maiden aunts. Safe journey through monstrous deep
snow to town. Sorry to part. Heard of Willy Webster's being
drowned. 4 Sorry, but felt mind hardened. Mr, Frazer dined with y<m.
Afternoon, Miss -_; B very well.
a A Scottish name for the game, of draughts,
a Restrained.
4 Webster was the son of BoswelFs mother's sister.
* Mrs, Dodds, She had followed Boswell to Kdinbxirgh, and had taken lodgings
there so as to continue their liaison.
20 Edinburgh^ 1 3 January 1 767
TUESDAY 13 JANUARY .... Before nine, Miss . , quite
fond. She reproved you for drinking so much. Home, arid had clerk,
arid corrected Caithness memorial till twelve.
THURSDAY 15 JANUARY .... Evening called Miss ;
gentleman with her. Came away jealous. Erskine came; very happy
together/'
FRIDAY 16 JANUARY .... At six, after torment with jeal-
ousy, went to Miss, She was gay. She declared | that she had | no fear
fof you]. You was torn with passion, or, as Rose 7 used to say, your
gloom fixed on love as its object. You was quite serious; said you was
much obliged to her. She must not think you ungrateful; hut really
you could not be miserable altogether, therefore you'd try to cease.
You'd be her Mend, &c., &c. But you again grew fond. Note came;
'twas open. Said she: "We can understand one another, though | our
letters are] open," 8 and laughed. You said nothing; but like Spaniard
mused on the fire. Murmuring between you. She | said she | would not
make you uneasy. YOU. "Then show me card," She did so freely.
Twas from a poor woman you had got into Infirmary. Bless me! She
just tried my jealousy. You asked pardon for weakness, She smiled,
as well she might
| 7/>w/o/7 Chronicle \ 1
SATURDAY 24 JANUARY, Extract of a letter from Hamburg.
January i, CC A courier arrived here early tins morning in a very extra
ordinary dress, said to he a Gorsican express, with dispatches front
General Paoli to my Lord Marisclml of Scotland* and Sir Andrew
e Lieutenant the Hon. Andrew Krskino, brother to the sixth Karl of Kellie* w<ts
otic of BoKwelFs dose friend*. In t^H they had published Lettetb ftetuwn the
Honourable Andrew Ktttkine ami James Wo.vf /*<'//, #A</,, a youthful bagatelle full
of private* jokes,
7 A Scotsman whom Boswelt hud known w4! m Holland,
H Mrs. Dodds is teasing Ro.sweiU saying that she and the "lover** Boswell is
jealous of understand eueh other even if their Inters are not sealed,
9 Six pages, containing the record of 17 January to $ February, are mi*sin# k
1 Here begins the bizarre ^invention"* of Signor Hoinan/o (sr p, < |l, llofh
Georgt* Keith, tenth I'.arl MarischaL and Sir Andrew Mitchell mentioned In if
were friends of Boswell from his German days.
Edinburgh, 24 January 1767 21
Mitchell, His Britannic Majesty's Ambassador at the Court of Prussia.
We hear that this courier was immediately carried to the Stadthouse
and examined for upwards of two hours, but nothing has yet tran-
spired. It was with some difficulty that our magistrates allowed him
to pass, under a convoy of the city guards, who were to attend him for
several leagues and take care that he was not followed by any of our
sailors, who had gathered about him in great crowds on his first ar-
rival. Our magistrates had also the precaution to stop the departure of
the post some hours, in order that an account of this singular affair
might be transmitted to Potsdam by a special messenger, before the
letters of our idle politicians should make the news of it resound
through Brandenburg and to Paris and Vienna. This Corsican courier
had plenty of money about him; and by his air and manner, it was
strongly suspected that he is a man of more distinction than he
chooses should be known."
[Boswell to Temple] 2
Edinburgh, t February 1767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, When I see lying before me your last letter,
dated the 2d of December, and consider how long a time has passed
without any communication between us, I am filled with wonder and
regret. But T think both of us are arrived so far in the knowledge of
human nature that we can calmly contemplate the vicissitudes of our
own minds, arid withcvut fretting at our imperfections can be sorry for
them while we arc 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 re-
spectable light. Don't be moved by declamations against ecclesiastical
history, as if that could blacken the sacred order. 3 1 confess that it is
a This and all of the following letters from Boswell to Temple, unless otherwise
stated, are reprinted from the Letters of James Boswcll, 2 vols., 1924, with the
kind permission of the editor, Professor Ghauneey B. Tinker, and of the Claren-
don Press, The originals of all the letters to Temple printed by Professor Tinker
are in the Morgan Library, New York, The present letter, which was written in
installments, is here given in parts according to date.
8 Temple had written to Boswell (20 November 1766): "The great truths of
22 Edinburgh, i February 1767
not in ecclesiastical history that we find the most agreeable account
of divines. Their politics, their ambition, their art) and their cru-
elty are there displayed. But remember, Temple, you arc there read-
ing 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 socular concerns,
But, if you would judge fairly of the priests of Jrsus, you must con-
sider how many of the distressed they have comforted, how many of
the wicked they have reclaimed, how many of the good they have im-
proved. Consider the lives of thousands of worthy, pious divinos who
have been a blessing to their parishes. This is just, Toniplc. You say
the truths of morality are written in the hearts of all men, and they
find it their interest to practise them. My dear friend, will you
believe a specious moral essayist against your own experience? Don't
you, in the very same letter, complain of the wickedness of those
around you? Don't you talk of the tares in society? My friend, it is
your office to labour cheerfully in the vineyard, and if possible to
leave not a tare in Mawhead.
You are tempted to join Rousseau in preferring the savage state, 1
am so too at times. When jaded with business or when tormented with
the passions of civilised life., I could fly to the woods; nay, 1 could
(be) the whinstone on the face of a mountain, wen* it possible for
me to be conscious of it, and to brave the elements by glorious insensi
bility. But these are the sallies of desperation, Philosophy tenrheth us
to bo moderate, to be patient, to expect a gradual progress of refine-
merit and felicity. In that hope I look tip to the Lord of the Universe*
with a grateful remembrance of the grand and mysterious propitia-
tion which Christianity hath announced.
Thus far 1 got in rny letter before breakfast. It is now late in the
evening when I sit down again. But I sit clown in the same frame in
which 1 parted from you in the morning, In a word., my dear Temple,
be a good clergyman, arid you will be happy both here and hereafter.
morality are written in the hearts of all men, they fiwl it their Interest fa prir <
Use them; but priests of all ages and nations and of every nert have aimtitntty
and upon principle endeavoured to fix their attention upon something else* by
making religion consist in fopperie% absurdities and nommse to the .wmiclal of
learning and of their character."
Edinburgh, i February 1767 23
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 made the clouds and storms
exalt the soul to solemn thought
And heavenly musing. 4
... of it while my father lives. His notions and mine are so dif-
ferent 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 in a most awk-
ward state between the subjection of a son and the authority of the
father and master of a family . .
. . , 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 char-
acter. The bachelor has a carelessness of disposition which pleases
everybody, and everybody thinks him a sort of a common good, nunc
rriihi 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 every-
body he meets. But, in my opinion, after a certain time of life a man
is not so desirous of this general flutter. The mind becomes more com-
posed 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 marriage. If you think of that weariness
which must at times hang over every kind of society, those disgusts
and vexations which will happen in the intercourse of life, you will be
frightened to take upon you the serious charge of the father of a f am-
4 Winter^ 11. 4-5. Half the leaf has been cut away, the hiatus involving this
paragraph and the following. The mutilation had occurred before the first print-
ing of the letter in 1857, though the editor attempted to disguise the fact by in-
venting some forty words to fill the gaps. Actually something more like two
hundred and fifty words are missing.
tf "Pleasant now to me, now to others" (altered from Horace, Odes, III. xxix, 52).
24 Edinburgh, i February 1 767
ily. But If you think of the comforts of a home where you are a sort of
sovereign, the kind endearments of an amiable woman who lias no
wish but to make you happy, the amusement of seeing your children
grow up from infancy to manhood, and the pleasing pride of being the
father of brave and of learned men, all which may be the case and de-
pends much upon our conduct as fathers then marriage is truly the
only condition in which true felicity is to be found. 1 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 enjoy
ment that I certainly suffered so severely. For the natural gloom of
my mind was not sufficient to torment me in a degree* so acute.
In the mean time, my friend, T am happy enough to have a dear
infidel? as you say. But don't think her unfaithful. I could not lovo
her if she was. There is a baseness hi all deceit which my soul is virtu
ous enough ever to abhor, and therefore I look with horror upon adul-
tery. But ray amiable mistress is no longer bound to him who was hor
husband. He has used her shockingly ill. I IP has dosortod hor, I Jo lives
with another. Is she not then free? She is. It is oloar,, and no arguments
can disguise it. She is now mine, and wore sho to ho unfaithful to mo,
she ought to be pierced with a Corsican poniard. But I bolievo she lovos
me sincerely. She has done everything to ploaso mo. Sho is perfectly
generous, and would not hear of any present. Sho has hithorto boon
boarded here, which lays us under a restraint. 1 have found out a sober
widow, in whose house is the rendezvous of our amours. But I have
now prevailed with my love to let me take a house for hor, and as it
will be ray family I shall provide what is necessary. In this manner I
am safe and happy and in no danger either of tho perils of Vonus or of
desperate matrimony,
I am now advancing fast in tho law, I am coming into groat om
ployment I have this winter made sixty 'five guineas, which is a con
siderablc sum for a young man, I expect that this first year I shall
clear, in all, about a hundred pieces.*
6 The "admire nothing" of Horace (Rpisth's, L vi. i ),
7 Temple, in referring to Mrs. Dodds, had written (so November 176*6); "What a
dear Infidel you have got (from not faithful you know, BowvelU, Nothing so
convenient as an eloped wife. How are you so lucky In *wstw*?*'
H Continued on p. -32. Boswell/loen not exaggerate his MT<K<. Sir Walter Kraft*
who passed advocate* In 170/3, in his fifth yew ut the bur received fv**i of 144,
considerably less than BoswelFsfees m his first full yi*ar
Edinburgh, 4 February 1 767 25
WEDNESDAY 4 FEBRUARY. Was hurt to find soul ravaged by
passion; determined to be firm, [as you] saw it hurt ideas of family.
. . . Had been looking at houses for Miss ; at last fell on one in
Borthwick's Close, quite neat and light.
THURSDAY 5 FEBRUARY .... In morning went to Mrs. Leith
and took house. Mind at ease; determined to be generous and let Miss
- do as she pleased. Very busy all day. Tea, Lord Hailes. [Was]
going to write noble letter to Miss ; sent for by her; went. She
tender as ever, quite affectionate. Saw all was easy. You felt too much
like married man., but 'twas gay. Then at nine, ClerihueV and Mr.
William Wilson and Brycc, [a] client. Saw [that law was a] form of
fleecing poor lieges. Hurt, tant soit peu^ [soon] firm again.
SATURDAY 7 FEBRUARY. With honest Doctor [Boswell] and a
Doctor Livingston walked out to Sir Alexander's. 2 Fine day. Was
powerful like Johnson; very much satisfied. Evening with Miss
She had taken other house, so resolved to give up yours. A little gloom
still, a little fever.
MONDAY 9 FEBRUARY. Robert Hay' $ trial. You opened and
strongly protested his innocence; quite calm. a Lasted till eight. Jaded
a little.
The Star and Garter in Writer's Court, kept by John Clerihue, a favorite tavern
for lawyers,
1 Ever so little.
2 Sir Alexander Dick, one-time President of the College of Physicians of Edin-
burgh, was now retired to his estate at Prestonfield where he kept open house.
His most conspicuous trait was amiability, Dr. John Boswell was an amusing,
honest eccentric., very different from his brother, Lord Auchinleck. Boswell ad-
mired his scholarly attainments and responded to his affectionate nature, but
complained of his loose conduct.
a Hay, a young soldier (said variously to be twenty, twenty-one, arid twenty-two
years old), was charged with having assaulted a sailor in the Cowgate, Edin-
burgh, and with having robbed him of 2 and a silver watch. It was admitted
that he had tried to sell the watch on the clay after the robbery. Boswell' s defence
(apart from such moving but irrelevant representations as that Hay was "the
favourite child of an old and distressed mother . . . whose grey hairs must be
brought with sorrow to the grave should her unfortunate son be condemned")
was that, on the night in question Hay had been drunk for the first time in his
life and could give no clear account of himself; that he had "a dark remem-
brance" of having been in the company of "one Robertson, a soldier of most in-
famous character," and that the watch must have come from him. The jury in a
unanimous verdict found Hay guilty, but recommended mercy.
26 Edinburgh, 10 February 1767
TUESDAY 10 FEBRUARY. Very busy. Poor Hay condemned.
Dined Mr. John Gordon's: George Wallaee and James Stevenson
new scene or rather old one revived. Quite comfortable and plain;
saw how various happiness is. Very good conversation. Busy all the
evening.
WEDNESDAY ii FEBRUARY. Visited Robert Hay. Why it is, 1
know not, but, we compassionate less a genteel man ["in affliction than
a poor man] . He was very quiet. You had a kind of sentiment as if he
was utterly insensible to good. But he said if he had got time., he would
have been a new rnan as from his mother's breast, and wept. Had
Bible. Spoke to him seriously and calmly; bid him free innocent
people, but not impeach a companion if [he hold information | in
trust.' 1 At eight, Miss a little.
| Received 12 February, Chatham to Boswoll ]
Batlu .(, February i 7^>7
SIR: The honour of your letter found mo here confined with a
severe fit of the gout and totally unable to writes or I should sooner
have acknowledged that favour, I now write with some difficulty,, but
can no longer defer expressing the sense I have of the great, honour
done me by the sentiments contained in the Italian passage of the lot-
tor you are so good to convey to me, I can assure* you* Sh% I retain the
same admiration of your illustrious friend* General Paoll, which I
1 Some days of tor the trial (the date is not #ivn in the copy preserved in the
Boswell papers) Boswell forwarded to the King a formal petition in I lav's I***.
half, hedging 1 that the sentence he commuted to transportation. This petition
slates what wore prohahly the real facts of the rase: **t le confesses that the mght
the robbery happened . , , he was unfortunate enough to drink too much, and
to be persuaded to go along with John Butterfteld,, drummer in the Forfv fourth
Regiment of Foot, who committed the robbery, while your petitioner stood h>%
and afterwards accepted of a watch as part of the spoil." The petition goe% on to
say that this appeal for clemency is being made because there is "nwon to fear
that . . . the judges will not transmit the recoinmendttttoti of the jurv, as their
Lordships were much offended with your petitioner because front a mist*tk**n
principle of honour, ho for some time refused to discover (us accomplice, and, in
order to divert the course of public vengenriu% laid the guilt to the charge of mi-
other person.'* Butterfield^ who appears in the list of witness***, hatl meantime
fled the kingdom.
Edinburgh, 12 February 1767 27
once expressed to you, but, sincere as this admiration is, I must not at
the same time forbear to acquaint you (in answer to your desire to
know my sentiments) that I see not the least ground at present for this
country to interfere with any justice in the affairs of Corsica. As I
think nothing more natural and commendable than the generous
warmth you express for so striking a character as that able Chief, so I
doubt not you will approve the directness of my opinion upon an oc-
casion which admits of no deliberation.
I am with great esteem arid regard. Sir, your most obedient, hum-
ble servant,
CHATHAM.
SATURDAY 14 FEBRUARY. Had composed song on [the memo-
rial for the | Hamilton cause. 5 Lord Hailes | said], "Very witty, but
put it in the fire; you'll make yourself enemies." He had frightened
you, such is still your weakness. Showed it to Sir Adam ("Fergusson].,
David Hume, &c. All liked it; no venom. "No," said David Hume,
" 5 Tis not in you." Sung it in Parliament House with circle round
you; had the iwida vis* of Wilkes. Resolved to follow your own plan.
Walked down with Sir Adam and Nairne to Lord Alemoor's; viewed
my Lord calmly. Felt the sentiment of awe for others gone. Afternoon
very busy, Mr. William Wilson, S., r at tea with you. At six, Miss
at Philippl. 8 Had been indifferent for this week. You and she this
night first cold and upbraiding, then kind as ever. Home, and labour
again.
SUNDAY 15 FBBRUAKY, Morning Erskine called; told you
what applause you got. You was quite firm and gay. Church, fore-
noon. Home between sermons, then to prison. Such an audience!
5 That is, a song attacking the memorial for the Hamilton plaintiffs in the
Douglas cause (see Introduction, p. xiii). Sir Adam Fergusson, mentioned below,
had written the memorial He was a conscientious, respectable, somewhat
humourless man, a considerable scholar and linguist, arid best known to
posterity because Dr. Johnson called him u "vile Whig,"
6 "Lively force" (Lucretius, De rerum natura, L 72) .
7 This "S. 9 " which follows William Wilson's name and no other, may stand for
"Senior." But it is also possible that it indicates "Writer to the Signet."
a This probably means, "At six met Mrs. Dodds at the house of the sober widow
who serves as a screen, for our amours" (see p 214). The use of Philippi to mean
a place of assignation was probably suggested by Julius Cat>$ar, 1V._ iii. 284: "To
tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi,"
28 Edinburgh, 1 5 February 1 767
Young divine preached: "Be not slothful in business," &c. not at
all applicable to his hearers. Great genius required for a jail preacher.
You sat in the closet, like an isle. 1 You did not like to hear the divine
in his prayer talk of a disgraceful death. 'Twas too shocking to his un-
happy hearers. He should have preached on patience, on the necessity
of punishment, on the corruption of man's nature, on the mercy of
God. (They sang] psalms, with precentor reading [them] line | by
line] with a doleful tone. Your mind now so strong | that such a scene
produces] no impression. . . .
Went and saw poor Hay. He was bad and all heaving could not
speak. His aged mother there, and his wife (a soldier's wife), very
well looked. Then David Hume's, who was next day to set out for
London; tea with him. He agreed to manage your Account of Corsica
with Millar. You very pleasantly maintained your happiness in being
a Christian. Then Miss -. _'s, where you met La Cara in black. Your
love returned gay and fine. . . . Supped Lord Knmes; y rather too
high. What a variety you have made of Edinburgh!
*
[Received c. 15 February, Sir John Prhigle to Boswell'l'
London, 10 February fftij
DEAR SIR ... I continue to have the satisfaction of hearing from
different hands of your application to business, and of the figure
which you have made and are likely to make at the bar. I believe that
I told you in a former letter, but I must repeat it, that my pleasure is
the greater, as in this event I have had my vanity gratified in thinking
that I judged well when I told yon that your genius, however differ -
ently it then appeared to you, was most calculated for that profession*
Romans 12, 10-1 u The "prison" is the Tolbootlu the ehv prison of Edinburgh
the "Heart of Midlothian" of Scott's novel,
1 The isle or "aisle" was a wing 1 or lateral extension of the church, commonly
where the lain! had his seat,
- Henry Home, styled Lord Kanies from his position on the Bench, wis om* of the
able, wide-ranging, and eccentric members of the Court of Session, Author of
works on law, philosophy, history, agriculture, and educiition, he is h*st remem-
bered as a "bunging" judge,, and for his treatise on aesthetics., Klwrwnts o/
Criticism.
8 Pringle, a pioneer in military hygieiw% was Ittter phy.su* w to George III and
President of the Royal Society, He was a great friend of Lord Aurhittlwk and
very fond of writing Boswell admonitory letters
Edinburgh, 15 February 1767 29
which you seem now to have embraced in earnest. I will go further,
since you must now give a little credit to my predictions, and tell you
that if you continue to give application you will soon get the start of
all our young men in the Parliament House, and will give the tone for
a new eloquence very different from what prevailed there in my time.
You have the advantage of possessing the English language and the
accent in a greater degree than any of your rivals, and a turn for ex-
pressing yourself in a clear and energetic manner, without those hy-
perbolical modes of speech that were introduced long ago, and were
still kept up during my youth, and which slipped from the bar to the
tea tables at Edinburgh.
By letters which I have since my return had from my worthy
friend your father (for I have had more than one upon the subject),
I have the comfort to find that you have made him very happy; and
I have the superstition to believe that whilst you go on in this train
(I mean in sobriety, diligence in your business, and attentions to the
best of parents) God will bless you, not only with conferring upon
you his imperceptible favours, but will even condescend to gratify
you with reputation and other worldly enjoyments, which we may
desire but never set our hearts upon. You may be assured that your
father's confidence in you and his affection will daily augment; for,
between ourselves be it spoken, could you expect that after all that is
passed, he should all at once consider you as arrived at the full ma-
turity of your judgment? Permit me to predict once more. In a year,
or two at furthest, if you persevere in this course, my sage friend, so
far will he be from seeing you in the light of a boy that he will not
only communicate to you all his most secret affairs^ but will consult
you upon them and show a regard to your judgement.
In order to hasten this confidence, I will presume to suggest what
may be the most proper means: that is, I would advise you to look out
for a wife, and to make such a match as he and the whole world shall
approve of. After examining that affair with some attention, I am
much for early nuptials, and indeed so much, that if I were in your
place I should set immediately about them. I am persuaded that you
woxild have a great deal of satisfaction in following that plan; for
your temper is good, you would have joy in children, and I believe
I may add that yoti have had too much experience of the vague and
vicious pleasures not to relish the confined and virtuous ones as soon
30 Edinburgh, 15 February 1767
as you will make the comparison. This would give great contentment
to your father, and, as I said above, nothing would so much ripen that
confidence which he is beginning to have in you as that very action.
Your reconciled friend (and you may depend upon the sincerity of
the reconciliation) is a married man, and I am persuaded happy in
that state, although the match was made upon prudential considera-
tions only.' 1
With regard to your design of publishing an Account of Corsica, I
wrote to your father my thoughts on that subject. You may remember
with what pleasure and approbation Sir Andrew Mitchell and I heard
your natural account of those travels; but to relate and to print are
two very different things. If you bad any encouragement from the
Minister that would be another matter; but as he has not. chosen to
answer your letter on that; subject, yon may take it for granted that,
the publication would give him no satisfaction. At present be you and
Paoli private friends. Possibly the timo may come when the Ministry
here may find it their interest to support him; in which event they
will probably apply to you. Meanwhile, I hope you have not omitted
to take an opportunity of sending that brave man the present which
you proposed, as a just return for the civilities which be .showed you
during your stay with him/'
I am with great sincerity, dear Sir, your affectionate friend and
humble servant,
JOHN
TUESDAY 17 FEBRUARY .... Kvonblft With MlStf -< --, dfOSS-
ed in the very black she had charmed you with on Sunday, You was
delighted with her* . . .
SATURDAY 2t FKB1UTAHY, Y0U WOS qUitC OVCrpOW<wd With
papers to draw. Had been accustomed too much to make the law easy*
and write papers like essays for a newspaper, without reading much-
Saw labour arid poring necessary, and reading long papers, Dined
Samuel Mitchelson's with Sir Alexander Dick and family. Evening
with Miss -~-.-~, again in black. Allowed you full sight; enchanted
4 Pringlo is talking alxnu Lord Mountstuart, who hnd married Chm'lotti* JNm
Windsor, an ugly heiress When Mounts twirt and Roswi*lt had <iuwH*d at th**
beginning of A 7^6, Prin#l< hud artod as mtwwdwty,
5 The present was a collection of English hooks, whirh mainly dwtlt with
and morality*
Edinburgh, 21 February 1767 31
with her. She said, "Next night 111 wear black and let candles burn to
keep you longer."
SUNDAY 22 FEBRUARY. . . . You stayed in the afternoon and
wrote letters. Evening was with Miss , who came instantly on
your sending [for her, and was] very kind.
WEDNESDAY 25 FEBRUARY. At five Miss with you; pretty
well. At eight, at Mrs. Dunbar's in Gosford's Close, low house but
comfortable, with William Taylor and John Stobie 6 consulting on
cause of old Barclay, [the] Quaker [of] London. Four bottles [of]
good claret drunk, quite style of old consultations. Home and finished
paper. Was with Father; was hearty. Asked him, u Am I not doing as
well as you would wish? " HE. "Yes." Took his hand.
SATURDAY 28 FEBRUARY. . . At six with Miss , in vary-
ing humour. She upbraided you; almost would give up concert. 1
Talked of expense offending you, [and] parted angry with you. [As
you came out] met , 8 [and showed] alarm. You supped Lady
Betty's with Grange, Dr. Gregory, 9 Arbuthnot and his ladies. Pleas-
ant, but you was a little drowsy.
[Boswell to Temple, continued']
28 February. In this manner have I 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 igth 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
<J For John Stobie, see p. 43 /z.a.
7 That is, common design.
w Lord Auehirileck? Boswell says in the entry of 2 March: "Father has been
displeased."
n Lady Elizabeth Macfarlane was Andrew Erskine's sister and wife of the anti-
quary, Walter Maefaiiane, who died in June 1767. The following year she
married Alexander, seventh Lord Colville of Cuirass. Next to Temple, John
Johnston of Grange was Boswoll's closest friend. An obscure "writer" (that is,
solicitor or attorney) in Edinburgh, he was mild, indolent, melancholy, and a
great lover of Scottish scenery and antiquities. Dr. John Gregory was Profes-
sor of Medicine in the University of Edinburgh, He was chiefly known for his
Comparative View of the State and Faculties of Man with Those of the Animal
World} which had been published the previous year.
32 Edinburgh) 28 February i 767
business before the Court of Session is carried on by writing. In the
first instance, a cause 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 replies and duplics and tri plies.,
and he will sometimes order memorials to give him a full view of the
cause. Then we reclaim to the Inner House by petition, and there
again we give in variety of printed papers., from which tho Lords de-
termine the cause. For it is only in causes of great consequence that
the Court orders a hearing in presence. This method of procedure 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 extraordinary facts. l
SUNDAY i MARCH. Miss Blair of Adamtown in |'our| seat [at
church], handsome, stately woman; good countenance." Dined Duch-
ess of Douglas, vfcry hearty." . . . Before dinner had been with Miss
_, and settled plan how to explain last night's alarm. You and site
were as fine as ever. At six she met yon. By having lived luxuriously
so much last week., you was confused and debilitate*. | and | performed
only one a kind of ludicrous distress.
TUESDAY 3 MARCH . . . . Tea, Grange; Krskine there. Read
part of your London Journal; delighted j them |, Talked of your fever
for Mrs, Dodds.' 1 They showed you weakness; you saw 1 t was only sue!
den resolution to be free. Sat till near three extraordinary night.
WEDNESDAY 4 M A no a . Was so much hurt to hear srmulal of
Miss . .would riot visit her. Was on rack. . , .
[Boswell to Temple, continued]
4 March, Here 1 am still, and let me go on, It must he <*onftsw!
that our Court, of Session is not so favourable to eloquence as the Kng
1 Continued below, 4 March,
-For Catherine Blair, see Introduction, p. xvn, "Ow" church wai the New
Church, the east end of St. Giles's cathedral,
3 Ostentatious, vulgar, illiterate, and vigorous, Peggie Douglas, Dowager I)'h
ess of Douglas, ws one of the main forces behind Archibald Doughis in the
Douglas cause,
4 This k the only place In the Journal where iofwell giw^ the nmm* of hia
mistress.
Edinburgh, 4 March 1 767 33
lish 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 al-
ready speak with so much ease and boldness, and have already the
language of the bar so much at command. I have now cleared eighty
guineas. I am kept very throng. 5 My clerk comes to me every morning
at six, and I have dictated to him forty folio pages in one day. It is im-
possible 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 even 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 force and elegance, and assist
each other to dispel every cloud.
You are right in preferring social life to retirement, for no philos-
ophy is equal to action. You should not, however, have quitted your
elbow-chairs and fine carpets. They are amusements, and you must
not be without them. You have had a fit of low spirits.
In a former part of this letter I have talked a great deal of my
sweet little mistress. 1 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
licentiousness. But what can I do? I have already taken the house, and
the lady has agreed to go into it at Whitsunday. I cannot in honour
draw back. Besides, in no other way can I have her. But I have had
more intelligence of her former intrigues, I am hurt to think of them.
I cry, "Damn her, lewd minx." 7 1 arn jealous. What shall I do?
Oh, my friend! were you but here; but, alas! that cannot be. Mam-
head is not within a call. It ought to be so, 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!
5 Scots for "busy,"
Temple had written (19 February 1767) that he had abandoned ideas of "el-
bow-chairs, fine carpets, and such trumpery." He now thought the man happiest
"who has no more than the mere necessaries of life, cleanness, and decency."
7 Othello, III. iii 475.
34 Edinburgh, 4 March 1 767
I am disgusted to think of it. My lively imagination often represents
her former lovers in actual enjoyment of her. My desire fails, I am
unfit for love. Besides, she is ill-bred, quite a rompish girl She debases
my dignity. She has no refinement. But she is very handsome, very
lively, and admirably formed for amorous dalliance. What is it to me
that she has formerly loved? So have 1. 1 am positive that since I first
courted her at Moffat she has been constant to me. She is kind. She is
generous. What shall I do? I wish I could get off, and yet how awk-
ward would it be! And, after all, can I do better than keep a dear
infidel for my hours of Paphian bliss? But, alas, since yesterday I am
cooled. Think of your Berwick Celia and sympathize with me. One
way or other, my mind will be settled before I can hear from you. This
is a curious epistle to a clergyman. Admonish me, but forgive rne.
Doctor Robertson will soon give the world his Charles the Fifth.
Smith, I suppose, is in London. But I do not hear that his book on
jurisprudence is in any forwardness. 8 David Hume, you know, is gone
back to be a minister of state, being appointed secretary to Mr. Con-
way. I fancy he will hardly write any more. I was very hearty with
him here this winter. Whenever you go to London, I will #ive you a
letter of introduction to him. His quarrel with Rousseau is a literary
tragicomedy. I wrote verses in the character of each of them, I also de-
signed a ludicrous print. They have altered my idea and made a
glister be applied to David. But you may have the substance of it from
one of the London print-shops under the title of "The Savage Man,"
You must know Rousseau quarrelled with me too, and wrote mo last
summer a peevish letter with strong* marks of frcnxy In it. For he has
never yet told me the came of his offence* As you well observe, how
different is our friendship! 11
I have got pretty well acquainted with Doctor Gregory. lie was
very desirous to know rne, His book is ingenious and elrgant, and lie
himself is one of the amiable, pleasant men alive,
8 Adam Smith never did write a book on jurisprudence., though a collection of
his lectures on justice, police, etc. was published long after his death, Possibly
Boswcll refers to his Wealth of Nations, published in i 776.
Boswe.H's relations with Rousseau arid his share in the quarrel between Rons-
seau and Hume are discussed in Roswcll an the (!rtm<l Tour: //#/>*, Corsica^ and
Franca, after 2"$ February t /()(>.
Edinburgh, 4 March 1 767 35
The session will be up this day sennight. 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 publication of it for me with Andrew Millar. All your
old friends here are well, in statu quo^ Jeel and all, and remember you
kindly. 1 Sinclair has never found his brother. I don't write often
enough to Squire Bosville, but I shall give him a good letter tomorrow.
His beauty, I am afraid, would be too fine for this northern air.
Temple, will you allow me to marry a good Scots lass? Ha! ha! ha!
What shall I tell you? 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 I am. But I am a sad dupe, a perfect Don
Quixote. To return to where it winces, might not I tell my little
charmer that really I am an inconstant being, but I cannot help it?
Or I may let my love gradually decay? Had she never loved before,
I would have lost every drop of my blood rather than give her up.
There's madness! There's delicacy! I have not had such a relief as this
for I don't know how long. I have broke the trammels of business, and
am roving unconfined with my worthy Temple,
My brother Davy is a prodigious fine fellow. He and I dined to-
gether tete-a-tete on Christmas Day in an elegant manner, and went
to chapel,' 2 as you and I did long ago. He is in constant occupation as a
banker . . . 3
1 Jeel is Scots for jolly. Boswell and Temple, while students at the University of
Edinburgh, had been entertained at tea or dinner at the home of Robert Hunter,
Professor of Greek, and had been amused by his broad Scots ("Will you hae
some jeel?") "Jeel" consequently became their nickname for Hunter.
2 That is, to the Chureh-of-England chapel in Carrubber's Close. Temple had
introduced Boswell to Anglican worship there, probably on Christmas Day,
1755. See p. 12472.3.
8 Continued on p. 36. Brother David was an earnest young man apprenticed to
a banking house in Edinburgh.
36 Edinburgh, 5 March 1767
THURSDAY 5 MARCH. Had message from Miss ; went to
her. Could not conceal [you] was black and dreary. She was much
affected. You begged of her to have patience. You was unhappy, but
you would not tell why. Supped Lord Coalston's. Some young lawyers
there, and Miss Nisbet of Dirleton, a most charming creature did not
she speak too broad. Her mother, a genteel, amiable woman. You was
much in spirits. You consented to sing your Hamilton song. You
was asked about the prison, &c. You was well understood.
[Boswell to Temple, continued}
March 8, still here .... 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, a 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 1 on my
charmer's former loves and ruminating on parting with her, I went
to her. I could not conceal my being distressed. I told her I 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
our house, I went in the afternoon and secured the house, and then
drank tea with her. She was much agitated. She said she was deter-
mined 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 suspicious of her fidelity,
and she thought that very ungenerous in me, considering her be-
haviour. She said I should not mind her faults before I know lun\ since
her conduct was now most circumspect We renewed our fondness,
She owned she loved me more than she had ever clone her husband.
All was again well She said she did not reproach mo with my former
follies, and we should be on an equal footing. My mind all at once* felt
a spring. I agreed with her. I embraced her with transport.
Edinburgh, 8 March 1767 37
That very evening I gave a supper to two or three of my acquaint-
ance, having before I left Scotland laid a guinea that I should not
catch the venereal disorder for three years, which bet I had most
certainly lost and now was paying. We drank a great deal till I was
so much intoxicated that instead of going home, I went to a low house
in one of the alleys in Edinburgh where I knew a common girl lodged,
and like a brute as I was I lay all night with her. I had still so much
reason left as not to "dive into the bottom of the deep," 4 but I gratified
my coarse desires by tumbling about on the brink of destruction.
Next morning I was like a man ordered for ignominious execution.
But by noon I was worse^ for I discovered that some infection had
reached me. Was not this dreadful? I had an assignation in the
evening with my charmer. How lucky was it that I knew my mis-
fortune in time. I might have polluted her sweet body. Bless me! what
a risk! But how could I tell her my shocking story? I took courage. I
told how drunk I had been. I told the consequences. I lay down and
kissed her feet. I said I was unworthy of any other favour. But I took 5
myself. I gloried that I had ever been firmly constant to her while I
was myself. I hoped she would consider my being drunk as a fatal
accident which I should never again fall into. I called her my friend
in whom I had confidence, and entreated she would comfort me.
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 enter-
taining any unfavourable ideas 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 noble and all the time her beauty enchanted
me more than ever. May I not then be hers? In the mean time I must
be shut up, and honest Thomas must be my guardian. 6 He does ex-
cellently well. Pray what do you hear of Nicholls 7 and Claxton? Make
my compliments to them. There is a pretty book just now published,
4 / Henry IV, 1 iii. 203.
5 That is, checked.
fl Boswell's servant, who had been recommended to Mm by Temple.
T According to Boswell, the Rev. Norton Nicholls, a good friend of Thomas Gray
as well as of Temple, was distinguished for "an amiable disposition, a sweetness
of manners, and an easy politeness" (Boswelts London Journal, 13 May 1763).
3 8 Edinburgh, 8 March 1 767
An Essay on the History of Civil Society, by the Moral Philosophy
Professor here. 8 Let me hear from you soon, and believe me, ever
yours,
JAMES BOSWELL.
Postscript. 9 My dear Temple, you are by this time well acquainted
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 re-
turn to Scotland I have given a great deal too much into that habit
which still prevails in Scotland. 1 Perhaps the coldness of the Scots
requires it. But my fiery blood is turned to madness by it. This will
be a warning to me, and from henceforth I shall be a perfect man.
At least I hope so. Adieu, my friend. Let us correspond once a fort-
night. Write me fully. Tell me sincerely, do 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, she is paradisial in bed. 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. This is unworthy of
Paoli's 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 in this country a woman of gallantry is
a woman without principle. There is too much truth in this. But I
cannot apply it to my angel. By the by, she is now more affected by
my bad conduct than she was at first. Adieu encore.
WEDNESDAY ii MARCH* .... a kind of gloom to think this
was the last day of the session. You drank tea at Mr. Alexander Tail's.
8 Adam Ferguson,
9 This postscript is written on another sheet, which became separated from its
letter. It seems to belong 1 here,
1 It Is quite true that Boswell did not begin drinking to excess until about the
time he was admitted to the bar, This is, we believe, the first record of real
drunkenness that has appeared in these volumes,
2 Four pages of the Joiirnal, containing the entries from 6 to the middle of 11
March, are missing.
Edinburgh, 11 March 1767 39
He was not in. You had for company Mrs. Tait [and] Mrs. and Miss
Blair. You was quite easy. You liked Miss Blair more and more with-
out any fever. Saw Miss _ a little.
FRIDAY 13 MARCH. Had a kind card from Miss - ; went to
her and stayed from twelve to two. . . .
MEMORABILIA,
? MARCH. I am a singular man. I have the whim of an English-
man to make rne think and act extravagantly, and yet I have the cool-
ness and good sense of a Scotsman to make me sensible of it.
I have often found myself inclined to give praise in a great degree.
The reason is that in giving praise one feels a pride similar to that of
one giving money. When I deal out laudatory epithets I am like a
great man bestowing his largesses. Our inclination to censure strongly
is owing to the same imaginary dignity. We suppose ourselves men
of power distributing punishments; such, indeed, are not often of
much importance.
Lord Auchinleck used to pass his time in the country in continual
attention to the improvement of his place, but would often busy him-
self with very small matters. He would, for instance, gather stones off
the land for hours; nay, he would very gravely fill his pockets with
them, and carry them to mend a broken part in some favourite part.
His sons, though they had a high respect for him, could not but
exercise their humour on such oddities in a great character. David
said, "He carries the stones in this manner upon the principle of
utility, and no doubt he does some good to the road. But he would
also do some good were he to fill his nails with sand, and sprinkle it
upon the road. Why does he not always do good in some more im-
portant manner?"
I have seen contemptible beings exceedingly vain of being satiri-
cal. They do not consider how very little a dog is yet capable to bite.
The veriest cur may scratch the heel of the most generous horse.
I have sometimes fallen into a strange, wild reverie, looking upon
the human species as produced merely to exist a little here, and then
8 An undated group of thoughts in a notebook entitled "Memorabilia," placed
here because they follow an extract of a letter from Boswell to Lord Marischal,
dated 12 March 1767.
40 Edinburgh, March 1767
be destroyed by the course of nature; so that all the diversities of
character and of virtues have appeared as of little consequence. Me-
thought I could use the words of him who was born blind, when Jesus
was curing him, "Methinks I see men as trees walking." 4
I am a weaker man than can well be imagined. My brilliant
qualities are like embroidery upon gauze.
SATURDAY 14 MARCH. Tea, Miss ; provoked her with old
stories. Grange had been with you in the forenoon, and insisted you
had no morals. You was shocked. You saw Miss .- had no senti-
ment. You had sore conflict. But you resolved to try one winter, to
enjoy fully so strong a passion. You then fancied you could inspire
her with finer feelings. You grew fond. Her eyes looked like precious
stones. Some delirium seized you. She seemed an angel
SUNDAY 15 MARCH. Had message from Miss ; she was to
set out next day. Was in, quiet all this day. Captain Erskine and
Houston Stewart drank tea with you. Houston was dissipated as ever.
You felt cairn superiority, but not to shock him you assumed dissipa-
tion a little. You had wrote earnestly to Miss She came at eight,
and sat a while with you. It was vastly kind.
MONDAY 16 MARCH. You called on Miss - and passed a
great part of the forenoon, as she was not to go till Tuesday. Ycm again
spoke of old stories. She was fretted. You were both very uneasy. You
saw her temper such that no eloquence could touch her. But you was
her slave. Returned at five to tea. She was young and vivacious. What
a temperament! You gave word in honour you'd never again allow
her to be ill spoken of by Grange in your presence. You were like man
and wife. . . . Went to Lady Betty's. She had been ill; you was so,
[She still] appeared invalid. Was restless, having" promised to Miss
to return. You talked much of Miss _ n and Lady Betty and the
Captain rated you about her. At eleven you went to her. You was lot
softly in. She was quite kind. But the recollection of her former tricks
galled you, for your heart was affected. You had been with Lord
Monboddo and talked of your flame. 5 He quoted Ulysses and Circa:
4 Mark 8, 24,
5 James Burnett, a judge in the Court of Session with the 1 style of Lord IWonboddo,
was an able lawyer, a passionate admirer of antiquity, and remarkable for his*
pro-Darwinian evolutionary views. Though a highly intelligent man, he was
Edinburgh, 16 March 1767 41
"Sub donaina meretrice vixisset turpis et excors." 6 You saw how
lightly passions appear to those not immediately affected by them, for
even to yourself will this afterwards seem light. You was all resigned
to sweet Miss . You chased away all reflection. You drank in
instant delight. You sat till one, and parted with great fondness in
hopes of meeting. Home, Father still up. Lady Betty bore the blame
of late hours.
TUESDAY 17 MARCH. [Was] feverish [and felt like] Mark
Antony, quite given up to violent love. . . . Then Miss G and
gave money for [your] house, &c. Had laboured hard all winter, but
now passion made you at once give up the fruits of your labour, which
you had carefully collected. . . .
WEDNESDAY 18 MARCH. Found a listlessness creeping on you.
Reviewed winter; wondered at the variety of business you had gone
through, having made fourscore and four guineas. Went to Lord
Hailes to have him examined by Lord Eliock in Cairncross cause. The
other party could not attend. You was hurt to find reverence for Lords
ceasing. You feared that caelum ipsum might lose its dignity if you
got to it. Wild idea! Can finite beings be at all compared to infinity?
You had a tete-a-tete with Lord Hailes. He commended you in some
causes, said you had fought a good battle; but in Warnock's cause you
had drawn a paper with as unfair a state of the facts as Lockhart
could have done/ You told him of feverish passion. He bid you break
off, but he seemed not rigid.
Then Dr. Blair's. 8 Had not seen him of a long time. He was com-
fortable. Talked of Corsica. He was roused with it. Complained of
sickly love. He talked of it calmly as a bad thing. Talked of marriage,
how agreeable, and how suited to you. Talked of action as quite neces-
mislcd into maintaining vigorously that in some countries men had tails. This
prompted Dr. Johnson's remark that Mdnboddo was as jealous of his tail as a
squirrel.
(J "He lived filthy and stupid ruled by a whore" (Horace, Epistles^ I. ii 25, "vixis-
set"for"fuissct").
7 For Alexander Lockhart, see p. 1 16 77.9.
8 The Rev, Hugh Blair was Professor of Rhetoric and Belles-Lettres at the Uni-
versity of Fxlinlmrgh, and later published some very popular sermons. Boswell
described him as learned, ingenious and full of an engaging simplicity,
42 Edinburgh, 1 8 March 1767
sary. You said yes, but [only] as a remedy to distempered minds. The
sound and perfect human being can sit under a spreading tree like the
Spaniard, playing on his guitar, his mistress by him, and glowing
with gratitude to his God. Music, love, adoration! there is a soul The
Doctor was struck and pleased with this warm effusion. Commissioner
[Cochrane] dined with you. 9
At five, Lady Betty's, comfortable tea. You was still in fever about
Miss She and the Captain 1 showed you what a weakness [this
was], what want of firmness, and how in all such cases a man of im-
agination supposed his mistress to have virtues. Lord Kellic actually
believed Miss Massey, a common whore, to be a most virtuous woman
but in unhappy circumstances, and that for the first time her heart
was engaged to him. Lady Betty talked to me as a Christian. In short,
everything was said, and the Captain recalled all the scandalous
stories, [her living with the] waiter and all, which revolted you.
You resolved to be self, to break free from slavery. What strength of
mind you have had this winter, to go through so much business and
at the same time have so violent a passion! You held Lady Betty's
hand. Owned error; said, "Have hope of me"; and gave honour you'd
never again allow yourself to fall into such a scrape.
Home. David sat long with you. Told him fairly your situation
(all but paradisial completion). He, like a man, advised you to got
free; you'd ruin yourself. You would fain have indulged for one year,
"No," said he, "you might acquire habit of slavery, and, besides, it
would then be ungenerous to quit." You wavered and knew not how
to determine. You saw yourself gone. You wondered how you would
feel if a notorious villain; for, from your violent passions, you dreaded
its possibility. Was stunned; resolved firm. To bed quite agitated.
THURSDAY 1Q MARCH. Waked in tender anguish: "What, shall
I give her up?" Your melting moments rushed on your mind: her
generosity ah! For some seconds a real fit of delirium | sei/ed you |,
tossing in your distempered mind |tho thought of) instant self-de-
struction. Bless rne! is this possible? It was literally true. Got up,
roused, grew better, Bad weather had kept you still in town yesterday.
9 Basil Cochrane, BoswolPs maternal grand-undo., one of the Commissioners of
the Customs in Scotland.
1 Andrew Rrskinc*.
Edinburgh., 19 March 1767 43
However set out today, the same family form. John Bruce, Mr. Stobie,
Matthew Dickie, [and] Bob Boswell all down with you to the Back
Stairs. 2 This composed your mind. It was, as it were, quilted with
good, comfortable, family ideas. Jogged on. Good conversation on law.
Dined Livingstone; night, Bedlay's new house. Father gave you
account of the Hamilton memorial after supper, [but] left it off.
In your room begun letter to Miss Was gloomy but resolved;
considered she had not feeling [enough] to be much affected.
FRIDAY 20 MARCH. Heavy snow. Father resumed the Hamil-
ton memorial. Astonished at his memory, and how all this time he has
never said a word, and yet has it so perfectly. [He has a] prodigious
strong mind, singular frame. Dined Strathaven; night, Sornbeg, [to
which you] walked up from Galston. Comfortable and easy, reflected
on the gradual course of things. Was contented. Sat up late and
finished letter to Miss Sent it; was firm as if it had been a year
after.
SATURDAY 21 MARCH. Left Sornbeg in the morning. As you
came along, talked of economy. You was sensible of your want of that
virtue, and wanted to save yourself. BOSWELL. "Come, come, I see some
people in this world have economy, and some not." "Very right," said
my father, "but why don't they acquire it then? You may as well say,
'Some people have learning in this world and some not. Some people
are thieves in this world, and some not.' That argument will serve for
everything." How excellent was his reasoning! You resolved to exert
your active powers. My father has done so, and is the man he is.
Arrived safe at Auchinleck. Reflected on your emancipation from
Circe, Enjoyed the noble scat after the longa negotia 3 of a winter
session. But the evil complaint pained you. It was, however, pretty
easy.
SUNDAY 22 MARCH, Lay abed long and reflected comfortably
2 All evidently dependents on the Boswell family. John Bruce was Lord Auchin-
leck's major-domo, and John Stobie his law clerk. Matthew Dickie, whom Bos-
well once described as a kind of diminutive Falstaff, was later his law clerk.
Robert Boswell was Dr, John Boswell's son, and a "writer" in Edinburgh. The
party walked down the long flight of stone steps leading from the Parliament
Close to the Cowgate instead of making the horses pull the coach by a round-
about route np the hill to the High Street,
3 "Tedious business" (Horace, Odes, III. v. 53).
44 Auchirileck, 22 March 1767
on being free from Lais. 4 We did not go to church. I wrote to M. de
Sommelsdyck a calm family letter which my father read, I am sure,
with satisfaction. 6 We read some of old Mr. Robert Bruce's Scots
sermons, and a chapter of the Greek New Testament, and a psalm of
Buchanan. We were very happy. We arc now friends as much as my
father's singular grave and steady temper will allow; for he has not
that quick sensibility which animates me. Since the beginning of last
winter he has ceased to treat me like a boy. This evening I thought
with astonishment, "Is it really true that a man of such variety of
genius, who has seen so much, who is in constant friendship with
General Paoli, is it possible that he was all last winter the slave of a
woman without one elegant quality?"
MONDAY 23 MARCH. Mr. Dun, Hallglenmuir, 6 &c., here. I
roused my mind and wrote the Introduction to my Account of Corsica.
[London Chronicle']' 7
THURSDAY 26 MARCH. Extract of a letter from The Hague,
dated March i, 1 767. "The Corsican courier who some time ago made
such a noise at Hamburg stayed a week in this place., and had an
audience of three hours of Sir Joseph Yorke, His Britannic Majesty's
Ambassador, to whom he was introduced by the Reverend Mr. Rich-
ardson, his Excellency's chaplain, and by the Reverend Mr. Maclaine,
minister of the English church here, in whose house he was lodged
during his residence at The Hague. M. Formey, perpetual Secretary
of the Royal Academy at Berlin, had recommended him to Mr, Mao
laine. It seems he would not put up at cither of our two great inns, the.
Marechal de Turenne or the Parliament d'Angleterrc, What; was the
reason of this nobody can say; very probably he thought, ho would
be less exposed to the visits of idle people by having an apartment; in a
4 The name of a famous Greek courtesan applied to Mrs, Dodds.
5 The Countess of Kincardine, BoswelFs great-grandmother on his paternal side
and great-great-grandmother on his maternal side, had been a Sommelsdyck. A
partial copy of BoswelFs letter which survives describes various documents and
obje.ts d'art. at Auchinleek pertaining to her and her relatives.
The Rev. John Dun was minister at Auehinleek and had once been BoswelFs
tutor. Alexander Mitchell of Hallglemnuir was a neighbour and distant rein lion.
7 In this continuation of the adventures of Signor Romanzo, Boswell draws on his
acquaintance with Holland and the English there.
Auchinlecky 26 March 1767 45
private house. But some of our penetrating politicians of the Morning
Society will needs have it that the courier meant to show that neither
France nor England could be looked upon as friendly to his nation.
To such extravagant lengths will some wise heads carry their divina-
tion. This courier passed by the name of Signor Romanzo. He ap-
peared to be a man of profound learning and great address. The Stadt-
holder showed him particular marks of attention, and the Duke of
Brunswick was much with him. His equipage was superb, and his
servants had the richest clothes ever seen in Holland."
FRIDAY 27 MARCH. Began my Account of Corsica, [and found
I] could labour well. Father studied Douglas memorials 8 and at
intervals [read] Don Quixote. [He was] much entertained with him.
Joked on my Account; called it quixotism.
SATURDAY 28 MARCH. Went on well; thought I was writing
for Europe. Had kept the house all this week. Honest Dr. Johnston
had been with me. 9 At night Mr. Brown arrived. 1
SUNDAY 29 MARCH. At church. Mr. Brown went to Mauchline.
Evening, [we read from the] Greek Testament; very comfortable.
Quite firm; mind sound after the fever of love. Determined to support
the ancient family; offered up sincere devotions to my Father above.
[Boswell to Voltaire]
Auchinleck, 29 March 1767
SIR: The politeness with which you received me at Ferney has
never faded from my remembrance. I often recall it with the liveliest
pleasure, and I am happy to think that I can boast of having had
several conversations with M. de Voltaire. 2
After I left you, you was so good as to write me a letter in English,
which I had the honour to receive at Naples. On my return to Rome, I
sent you an answer. I know not if yoxi received it. 3
Since that time I have seen a great deal, and I think my travelling
8 Memorials for the defendants in the Douglas cause.
5) Daniel Johnston, a physician in Cximnock.
1 James Brown, BoswelPs clerk.
2 Boswell's description of his visit to Voltaire at Ferney is printed in Boswell on
the Grand Tour; Germany and Switzerland, 25-29 December 1764.
3 These letters are printed in Boswell on the Grand Tour: Germany and Switz^r-
Iand 9 15 March and 4 April 1765.
46 Auchinleck, 29 March 1 767
has done me great service. It has at least furnished me with a stock of
ideas with which I can entertain my mind while I live; and to a man
of keenness of thought that is very important. For if he has not a good
stock of ideas he is apt to turn his keenness against himself, and you
philosophers know that the human mind cannot be nicely searched
without certain pain. My philosophy appeared to you very gloomy,
for I confessed to you that misery seemed to me to be the principal
portion of thinking beings.
I have visited the Island of Corsica, where I saw with enthusiasm
a brave people who have vindicated their liberty with as much real
spirit as was ever found in antiquity. General Paoli is a most extra-
ordinary man. His abilities in politics and in war, his learning, his
eloquence, and his generous sentiments render him truly illustrious.
He has been now ten years the commander of his countrymen from
personal merit, a glorious distinction!
I am busy writing an Account of Corsica, with Memoirs of General
Paoli, which will be published the beginning of next winter. Mr.
David Hume is so obliging as to take the charge of the publication,
as I cannot be at London myself.
What does M. de Voltaire think of the Corsicans? I am persuaded
he feels for them as I do. Why do you not write something in their
behalf to rouse the cold spirit of the times? Why does M. de Voltaire
live in the same age with so gallant a nation and not compose a verse
to their honour?
After all my travels, I am now fixed in Scotland half the year as an
advocate and the other half as a country gentleman. If it is not pre-
suming too much on your former goodness I would beg to hoar from
you. I entreat you may make my best compliments to Madame Denis
and to Pere Adam. I have the honour to be, Sir, your most obedient,
humble servant.
My address is &c.
Je n'ai pas ose vous 6crire en francais. Je crois qu'il ost mkuix
d'4crlre dans sa propre langue, meme quand on sait bien xmo langue
&trangere; et a plus forte raison quand on en sait tres pen. 4
* I have not dared write to you In French, I believe it is better to write in one's
own language, even when one knows a foreign language well; and with much
greater reason when one knows it veiy badly.
Auchinlecky 30 March 1 767 47
MONDAY 30 MARCH . . . . Proceeded in Corsica. Received
noble letter from Temple; was in great spirits,
[Received 30 March, Temple to Boswell]
Mamhead, 20 March 1767
BEFORE I PROCEED to what I am going to say, let me beg of you
when we write to each other never to consider me in the light of a
priest, but in that of your friend, of a philosopher in the modest and
original sense of the word, in short in that of a man. Now for your
letter.
Though your last favour, my dearest Boswell, affords me the sin-
cerest pleasure and much entertainment, yet I must confess myself a
good deal concerned to find your attachment to your Moff at acquaint-
ance is become so serious. A little occasional amorous dalliance, it is
to be hoped, all of us may innocently enough allow ourselves; I mean
where the object is incapable of injury, and ourselves run no hazard
of fame or health; but then such intercourse ought to be but occa-
sional, when nature will not be denied; and the desire being satisfied,
the object should be thought of no more. Perhaps this reasoning may
shock your delicacy (it once would have shocked mine), but unhap-
pily in our present circumstances it is but common sense and common
prudence, and whoever acts otherwise is considered by people that
think, and even by the world, either as the good-natured dupe of an
artful woman, or the slave of his passions.
I know, my dear Boswell, that neither of these characters can be
applied to you, but if you continue to cohabit with a married woman,
the unnatural mother of three children, and by your own account
noted for her former gallantries, have a care of the character of a bad
citizen, an encourager and the support of vice, and the convenience of
a lewd woman. To be convinced that this is not declamation, for a
moment only put any of your friends in your circumstances. Poor
Temple, I am really grieved for him, my heart bleeds to see him act
with so little regard to the esteem of his friends, and even his character
in, common life; he is a promising young man coming fast into busi-
ness, and cannot be too guarded in his conduct; and to keep another
man's wife, to take a house for her, and at this time too when so many
48 Auchinleck^ 30 March 1 767
industrious poor can hardly procure a morsel of bread, a woman that
has deserted three poor infants and whom any handsome fellow that
has money [can] lie with, surely he must either be bewitched or ut-
terly abandoned. Probably in these words^ or somewhat like them,
you would compassionate my unhappy turn of mind.
Now you, who think it possible for the God of nature to have a
son whose blood alone can appease him for the crime a created being
committed in eating an apple, do not flatter yourself that such a pro-
pitiation will atone for sins against the laws of our country and against
mankind. In the vast continent of Ethiopia, where according to Di~
odorus men yet live in a state of nature, chastity and fidelity are not
virtues, for women and children are there in common; 5 but in our
polished Europe, where we have sacrificed many of our natural rights
to the peaceable enjoyment of our persons and properties, the laws of
our country are our religion, and can hardly ever be violated without
impiety. The absolute necessaries of life are what we all have right to n
can demand, and ought to obtain, but he who indulges himself in
superfluities, not to say criminal excesses, when thousands of his fel-
low creatures are fainting with hunger, what must we think of such
a citizen! But to talk more like myself. My dearest Boswell, if you
love me let me entreat you to sacrifice this woman to our friendship.
You know that there is not a person in the world who possesses such a
share in my heart as you do; you know it; is my affection for you that
dictates this letter; if then you really love me, if you would not give
your worthy father pain, if your own peace, of mind, if your timc% if
your health, if yoxir good name is dear to you., by all that is sacred in
friendship, by all that is desirable in life, let mo prevail with you to
break your ignominious fetters, to assert the command of yourself,
and be again my Boswell. . . . e
Adieu, dearest friend, let our affection increase with our years*
and let our hearts be conscious of a friendship that might have clone
honour to Greece or Rome.
W. J/rRMPUC.
5 Diodorus Siculus in his Historical Library attributes this state of affairs to
neighbors of the Ethiopians, the Fisho aters.
6 In the omitted portion of this letter., Temple tells Boswell that the "holy inter-
course" of philosophy., history, and poetry is preferable to the "melting down' 1 of
his manhood in the arms of his Ohloe,
Auchinleck^ 30 March 1 767 49
P.S. Pray keep your promise in writing often. You shall hear from
me again next week. Tell me if you are got well.
[Boswell to Temple]
Auchinleck, 30 March 1 767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, I have this moment received your kind let-
ter 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 contradicted. Johnston, an old friend of mine,
a writer in Edinburgh, but too much of an indolent philosopher to
have great business, being rather a worthy country gentleman with a
paternal estate of 100 a year, was much distressed with my unhappy
passion. He was at Moffat when it first began, and he marked the ad-
vance of the fever. It was he who assured me upon his honour that my
fair one had a very bad character, and gave me some instances which
made my love-sick heart recoil.
He had some influence with me. But my brother David had more.
To him I discovered my weakness, my slavery, and begged his advice.
He gave it me like a man. I gloried in him. I roused all my spirit, and
at last I was myself again. I immediately wrote her the letter of which
I inclose the scroll for your perusal. 7 She and I have always corre-
sponded in such a manner that no mischief could come of it, for we
supposed a Miss _ to whom all my amorous vows were paid. You
will observe my method. I wish you may be able to read the scroll.
After reading the note to Mrs. , 8 read pages two, three, and four
to Miss .-, then read what is below the second score in page one,
and lastly read what is between the scores in page one. This is leading
you an odd dance, but it is better than giving myself the labour 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
7 The enclosure is missing. A "scroll" is a draft or rough copy of a letter.
B The name in this instance has been crossed out. The dashes elsewhere occur in
the manuscript.
5O Auchirileck, 30 March 1 767
firm. What a snare have I escaped! Do you remember Ulysses and
Circe?
Sub domina meretrice vixisset 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 garden-
er's daughter, who now puts on my fire and empties my chamber-pot
like any other wench; and yet just this time twelvemonth, I was so
madly in love as to think of marrying her. Should not this be an ever-
lasting lesson to me? It shall be so, and Mrs. shall second it. By
the by, Temple, I must tell you that I have never owned Mrs. Js
real kindness to me except in my letters to you. I am much upon hon-
our in all these affairs. So if by some strange accident anybody who
knows her should enquire 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 affec-
tion for her children makes her amiable to me. But I confess she
ought, for the sake of her children, to conform to the strict ideas of the
world. How strangely do we colour our own vices. I startle when you
talk of keeping another man's wife. Yet that was literally my scheme.,
though my imagination represented it just as being fond of a pretty.,
lively, black little lady who, to oblige me, stayed in Edinburgh, and I
very genteelly paid her expenses. You will sec by my letter to her that
I shall have a house and a servant-maid upon my hands. I low she will
settle that I know not. You rogue! don't bid me settle it this way: put
the maid into the house and kiss the maid. At any rate, I shall not he
Limberham?
What say you to my marrying? I intend next autumn to visit Miss
Bosville in Yorkshire. But I fear, my lot being east in Scotland, that
beauty would not be content. She is, however, grave, I shall see. Then*
is a young lady in the neighbourhood here who has an estate of her
The "kind keeper" of Dryden's loose comedy. Limber ham.
Auchinleck, 30 March 1767 gi
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. 1 You know my grand object is the ancient family of
Auchinleck, a venerable and noble principle. How would it do to con-
clude an alliance with this neighbouring princess, and add her lands
to our dominions? I should at once have a very pretty little estate, a
good house, and a sweet place. My father is very fond of her. It would
make him perfectly happy. He gives me hints in his 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 myself the advice
I wrote you from Naples, and go to London a while before I marry.
I am not yet quite well, but am in as good a way as can be ex-
pected. My fair neighbour was a ward of my father's. She sits in our
scat at church in Edinburgh. She would take possession here most
naturally. This is a superb place: we have the noblest natural beau-
ties, and my father has made most extensive improvements. We look
ten miles out upon our own dominions. We have an excellent new
house. I ,am now writing in a library forty foot long. Come to us, my
dearest friend. We will live like the most privileged spirits of antiq-
uity. I am now seriously engaged in my Account of Corsica. It ele-
vates my soul, and makes me spernere humum. 2 1 shall have it finished
by June. My brother David is quite to my mind. I inclose you a letter
from him. You will see the young man as he is, in it. He has a portion
of that sensibility which rendered you and me unhappy every mo-
ment, till time and experience taught us common sense and moderate
desires. I am over, my dearest f riend^ most affectionately yours,
JAMES BOSWELL.
What varies casus* have you known your friend in, first and last,
real arid imaginary, only recollect. How do you get your letters, when
my Lord Lisburnc is in London? Must this go to his Lordship's town
house? Return me David's letter with the scroll to Mrs.
TUESDAY 31 MARCH. Began information for Gilkie. Read al-
ways a little of Hamilton and Douglas memorials after breakfast. At
night you and Father both owned you were living very happily.
1 Catherine Blair,
2 "Spurn the earth" (adapted from Horace, Odes, III. ii 21-24).
8 "Varied hazards" (Virgil, Aencid, i. 204).
52 Auchinleck^ 2 April 1767
THURSDAY 2 APRIL. Mr. Brown at Cumnock. Mr. Reid dined. 4
Gave him your time as a worthy old friend of the family. Talked of
your grandfather, &c. Dr. Johnston drank tea. You was still bad. At
night had fear of ghosts, [thinking of] poor Robert Hay. 5
FRIDAY 3 APRIL .... You laboured hard and with spirit.
SATURDAY 4 APRIL. Accounts came of the Corsicans having
made a descent on Capraja, with a letter from Mr. Dick confirming
it and informing you that all your correspondence was safe. You was
roused. You had not felt your blood in fermentation of a long time
before. You only regretted that you don't feel yourself more manly.
This your own fault. Resolved more guarded conduct.
SUNDAY 5 APRIL. Mr. Brown had gone yesterday to Kilmar-
nock. At church. Evening read Greek Testament and Hervey.
MONDAY 6 APRIL. Corsica went on, and old charters. You saw
everything is only practice.
TUESDAY 7 APRIL .... You was well enough. At night
talked with Mr. Dun on the nature of God and of a future state. Felt
yourself much unaccustomed to these subjects. Meditated seriously.
Wonderful thought; alarming too. But God is good.
WEDNESDAY 8 APRIL. Dr. Johnston thought me better. Corsica
still.
| Boswell to Chatham | 7
Auchinlock, 8 April t 767
MY LORD: I have had the honour to receive your Lordship's let-
ter from Bath, and I perfectly feel the sentiments which it contains. T
4 The Rev. George Reid, minister of Ochiltree, had been chaplain to James Bos-
well, Boswell's grandfather, and domestic tutor to Lord Auchinleek. He was
now about 70 and lived to be 90.
5 Who had been hanged on 25 March,
e The Rev. James Hervey was author of such popular essays as i\fe<Ht<ttions
Among the Tombs, Reflections on a Flower Garden, and (*ontemfrfation$ on the
Night.
7 Published In part in the Correspondence of William Pitt, Karl of Chatham, ed,
W. S, Taylor and J. H. Pringle, 1838-1840, iii. 244-2:47, and in Letters of Jarnw
Bo$wcll> 1 iio-ni. BoswelFs draft differs very little from the letter us sent.
The original, which is followed here, is among the Chatham Papers in the Pub-
lic Record Office.
Auchinleck, 8 April 1767 53
only wish that circumstances were such that your Lordship could
have an opportunity of showing the interest you take in the fate of a
people who well deserve the favour of so illustrious a patron of liberty
as your Lordship. I have communicated to General Paoli the contents
of your Lordship's letter, and I am persuaded he will think as I do.
Allow me to give your Lordship another quotation from a letter
of that hero. It is addressed to a friend of mine at Leghorn. "Essendo
al Ministero il Conte di Chatham, voglio sperar tutto il buon successo
alia generosa premura del Signore Boswell, per la rivocazione dell'
ingiuriosa Proclama del 1763. Quel sublime genio della Gran Bret-
tagna e quell' anirna grande ne' propri sentimenti e nel sistema della
sua politica, ritrovcra i piu efficaci motivi per far uscir la sua Corte
dello stato di indifferenza sopra gli affari di Corsica." 8 1 leave with the
Earl of Chatham these words of General Paoli, and I am persuaded
quelV anima grande will not forget them.
Your Lordship applauds my "generous 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 distin-
guished spirits by whom God is sometimes pleased to honour human-
ity; 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 admiration which a disinterested soul can enjoy
in the bower of philosophy.
I think it my duty to inform your Lordship that I am preparing
to publish an Account of Corsica. My plan is, first, to give a geograph-
ical and physical description of the Island; secondly, to exhibit a con-
cise view of the revolutions it has undergone from the earliest times
till now; thirdly, to show the present state of Corsica in every respect;
and, lastly, I subjoin my Journal of a Tour to That Island, in which I
8 "Now that the Earl of Chatham is in the Ministry, I venture to hope for good
success to Mr, BoswelFs generous concern in the revoking of the injurious Proc-
lamation of 1763* That sublime genius of Great Britain, and that great spirit,
will find in his own sentiments and in his own political views the most effica-
cious motives for causing his Court to emerge from its state of indifference to the
affairs of Corsica," John Dick was the Leghorn friend who forwarded a copy of
Paoli's letter to him. Although Boswell does not seem to have known it, Paoli, on
31 January 1767, had written directly to Pitt asking for English aid.
54 Auchinleck, 8 April 1 767
relate a variety of anecdotes and treasure up many memoirs of the
illustrious General of the Corsicans memorabilia Paoli.
While I was in Corsica I was careful to write down everything
that deserved attention, and since my return home I have received
many materials from different people of that country. I hope my book
will be agreeable, and may do some service to the brave Islanders by
representing them in a proper light. General Paoli is very impatient
for my publishing it.
I beg to know what your Lordship thinks of my undertaking, for
although I am so much engaged to the island that I must at any rate
go on with it, the approbation of my Lord Chatham would make me
advance with double spirit.
And I must entreat your Lordship's permission to take notice of
your noble sayings concerning Corsica and General Paoli. It will add
much dignity to the subject and to the author. I promise to insert
nothing that is improper to be read by all the world. But when I re-
cord General Paoli's grand ideas of your Lordship, I would also record
your Lordship's grand ideas of him, that posterity may sec how
highly two such men thought of each other,
As for myself^ to please a worthy and respected father, otio 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 corning forward, and
I hope to be useful to my country. Could your Lordship find time to
honour me now and then with a letter? I have been told how favour-
ably your Lordship has spoke of me. 1 To correspond with a Paoli and
with a Chatham is enough to keep a yoxing man ever ardent, in the
pursuit of virtuous fame, I ever am, my Lord, with the highest ad-
miration, your Lordship's much obliged, humble servant,
JAMES BOSWKM,.
P.S. I beg to know if I may address my letters to your Lordship by
the public post? 2
See p. 10.
1 Erskme wrote to John Johnston (2 June 1766): "I would toll Boswoll what Pitt
said of Mm at Bath, but why feed vanity?" Apparently no record survives of
what Pitt did say.
2 By the time Boswell's letter reached him, Pitt had sunk into a tat of prostra-
tion close to insanity, and he remained unfit for business during the rest of his
ministry.
Auchinleck, 9 April 1767 55
THURSDAY Q APRIL. Craigengillan 3 and Mr. Duff dined. You
was quite easy and felt the effect of experience, which it is impossible
for youth to conceive. Only most people are not so much surprised
with it, because they did not look so far before them in youth as I did.
In the evening came Captain Cuninghame-Montgomerie 4 and Mat-
thew Dickie. Very comfortable.
FRIDAY 10 APRIL. Your toe was pretty well, and you walked
in the Broomholm with Matthew. You talked of Miss Blair. I felt my
openness too great. I might soon acquire a habit of telling everything.
By doing so a man becomes quite easy, but loses delicacy and dignity.
You thought it best to own a libertine misfortune and regret your
fault. The same company continued all night, with honest Hallglen-
muir. You found time, however, to advance a little in Corsica.
[Scots Magazine~\
London, April it. This morning M. Romanzo, agent from Corsica,
had a private audience of the Earl of Shelburne.
SUNDAY 12 APRIL. Overton very kindly agreed to buy Dal-
blair r> for me, and got a letter of commission from my father to the
extent of 900. We had much good conversation on my being a well-
doing laird, as the Jameses have been in this family. Overton went to
church with us, from whence he went home. At night we read our
Greek chapters, translating one in English, the other in Latin.
MONDAY 13 APRIL. Corsica advanced. Treesbank 6 and Polqu-
hairn dined. The latter told you gross scandal of Mrs It hardly
hurt you, so well are you grown. Dr. Johnston thought you not so
3 John Me Adam of Craigengillan, a wealthy landowner and close friend of the
Boswell family, was later a fricmd of Burns, who addressed a poem to him.
4 Captain Alexander Montgomerie-Cuninghame, eldest son of Sir David Cuning-
hame of Gorsehill. His wife was Elizabeth Montgomerie, Lord Auchinleck's
niece, and proprietress of Lainshaw.
s Part of the wild vale of Glenmuir, aboxit ten miles east of Auchinleck. It prob-
ably bordered on the Auchinleck estates.
6 James Campbell, laird of Treesbank, was Lord Auchinleck's first cousin. He
married in 1768 as his second wife, Mary Montgomerie, sister to the late laird of
Lainshaw,
56 Auchinleck^ 13 April 1 767
well. Said your distemper had paroxysms, but could hardly go wrong
in the way you treated it. Mr. Brown returned.
TUESDAY 14 APRIL. Began information for Mackenzies against
Sir Alexander Mackenzie. 7 Made library [your] consulting room to
inspire you with noble ideas of antiquity of family while you wrote
in favour of entails. . . . Little was done to Corsica. You began
Dorando . . . . 8
WEDNESDAY 1 5 APRIL, You was in great vigour of genius, and
in the library you dictated Dorando. You thought it excellent. Mr.
Brown, when writing it, often was struck with admiration, and cried,
"That's grand!" You considered it as an elegant mark of your attach-
ment to the family of Douglas. You did nothing to Corsica. Mr. An-
drew Mitchell was here,
THURSDAY 16 APRIL. Waterhead breakfasted. You and he
agreed that venereal disorders do not hurt the constitution. Only se-
vere cures do. There may be a good deal in this. But Waterhead and I
have both been wild, so are not impartial judges, for no doubt such dis-
orders do harm. Mr. Mitchell and I and Knockroon rode up to Cum-
nock to the roup 1 of Dalblair. I dined in Mrs. Johnston's. The trustees
were hearty. Sundrum was there. 2 There was a kind of awkwardness
when he and I, who had formerly travelled pretty much in the same
way, and had now taken so very different roads, met again. I was as
much composed as I could wish to be. I felt myself insensibly grown
up.
About four we had the roup. Overton made at first an offer of
2400. It had been set up at 2000. 1 bid 1 o more. I sat as if pretty in-
different, but was very anxious, till at last it fell to me. The company
then took me by the hand as Dalblair. We went upstairs, and I gave
7 Sir Alexander Mackenzie wished to break the entail which settled his estate on
his eldest son, in order to provide for his children by his second wife, I f< was un-
successful.
8 For Dorandoy see Introduction, p. xiiL
9 John Boswell of Knockroon was a distant cousin of BoswelPs, and ut one time or
other collector of taxes in Ayr. Boswell bought his lands in 1790,
1 Auction.
2 John Hamilton of Sundrum, an important landed proprietor, later for many
years Vice-Lieutenant of Ayrshire. He had been a college mate of BoswelFs both
at the University of Edinburgh and the University of Glasgow,
Cumnock, 16 April 1767 57
them a bowl of punch. Polosh said he would give me 500 for my
bargain, and, if I had not bid, he would have given a great deal more.
So said Overton, perhaps in earnest. So said several. This showed the
influence of the family of Auchinleck. It was most fortunately con-
ducted. Had Overton bid a small sum, they never would have let it go
for that, the ice would have been broke, and when once they had begun
to bid they would have gone to their utmost stretch. Or had I bid 100
more, as I intended, I should have paid 90 more. Over and above the
price, I was burdened with an annuity of 25 a year to young James
Gib's wife, which, however, I believe may be compounded for 80. At
any rate the price cannot be more than 2500. 1 drank tea at Dr. Johns-
ton's, from whence I wrote to David acquainting him of my purchase.
When I came home I found my father in the library. He imagined
Dalblair would be bought by the Earl of Dumfries. But I told him,
"It's our own," and the price. He took me by the hand as Dalblair and
was very well pleased. 3
FRIDAY 17 APRIL. At breakfast my father treated me with some
fine honey. "For," says he, "you are a stranger laird a parish
laird." I finished Mackenzie; at night read it to my father. I was
wrong towards the end. But upon the whole he thought it a good
paper.
SATURDAY 18 APRIL. Corsica advanced. Mr. Brown went
home. Sent Dorando to Foulis. 4 Imagined he might perhaps scruple to
publish so strong an allusion to the Douglas cause; left him to himself.
MONDAY 20 APRIL. Corsica advanced. At night I began to
write an account of the Boswells from my father's dictating.
TUESDAY 21 APRIL. Corsica still understood to advance. Also
much entertained with the Douglas cause. Studied today Godefroi's
| testimony'] by |'the] Pursuers. 5 At night came Captain McAdam
and Mr. Robert Aikcn. Felt a kind of wildness and awkward reluc-
tance to be in society. Tis in the family.
;i He did not continue to be so well pleased. Boswell still owed 1300 of the pur-
chase price in 1776, and Lord Auchinleck, who had gone surety for part of it (see
entry (or 12 April), made a number of unpleasant scenes before finally advanc-
ing the money to pay off the debt.
* Robert Foulis, the noted Glasgow printer.
8 The Hamiltons were trying to prove that at the time when Lady Jane was sup-
posed to be lying in at a different house, she was actually at Godefroi's inn.
58 Auchinleck, 22 April 1767
WEDNESDAY 22 APRIL. Corsica still. Read Godefrofs [testi-
mony] by [the] Defender; amazingly strong. Captain McAdam and
Fingland dined. At night continued account of [the] Boswells; very
happy.
THURSDAY 23 APRIL. Corsica advanced. Mr. Dun, Mr. Hugh
Campbell, and Mr. Smeaton, the seceding minister, dined. The se-
ceder was jocular upon the established minister. 6 Mr. Dun went home
after tea. Mr. Smeaton was my client, so had a right to my time. I
went through his cause to him. It was curious to find myself the grave
counsellor of an old seceding minister with his mind full of Presby-
terian notions about the Covenant, the Act and Testimony, &c. At
night he and I had a long tete-a-tete. I led him into metaphysical en-
quiry. I talked of original sin. I argued in defence of the metempsy-
chosis, or of a pre-existence. I objected that indeed this could hardly
be, as there is to be a resurrection. Now, in this state we know nothing
of spirit. All that I know of a person is an animated body. If I do not
see the animated bodies of ray friends at the Resurrection, I cannot
know them. Now, if there is but one soul, which has animated a va-
riety of bodies, there must in every generation be numbers a-wanting
at the last day; for not only does the same soul serve different bodies,
but has different accidents and fills different spheres in life. To this
I answered myself, that the Resurrection is a doctrine exceedingly
dark. That in creeds we find the restirrcction of the body, but that the
Scriptures do not expressly contain it. Paul, in order to give some
satisfaction to the curiosity of the Corinthians, says, "It is sown in cor-
ruption, it is raised in incorruptiori; it is sown a natural body; it; is
raised a spiritual body"; and, having illustrated this with a compari-
son, to grain, he says, "And that which thou sowest, thou sowest not
that body which shall be," Therefore I suppose | there will be] no res-
urrection of the body, in conformity with "flesh and blood shall not
inherit the Kingdom of Heaven," and with "at the Resurrection there
is neither marrying nor giving in marriage," 7
Now, may it not be thus? A soul darts its view backward through
all the stages of its existence; the earthy frames arc totally forgot, and
The Seceders were members of Presbyterian splinter groups that had left the
Church of Scotland. They held, in general, rather old-fashioned views,
7 1 Corinthians 15 and Matthew &2* 30.
Auchinlecky 23 April 1767 59
the spirits recollect each other by mutual ideas. A spirit remembers
having been in different states of life, as a man recollects infancy,
youth, and manhood; and, as it is by a communication of ideas only
that spirits shall recollect each other^ the spirits of every age will find
their companions and friends in this spiritual intercourse. Only throw
body out of the question and all is easy. Suppose the ideas of Alex-
ander the Great and Luther to be repeated by the same spirit, those
spirits who retain the ideas of Alexander's courtiers and those who re-
tain the ideas of the first Reformers will find corresponding communi-
cations. The ethereal spirit, the air, affects us with sensations both of
cold and of heat. We do not look for a distinct body out of which the
qualities producing each of these sensations must issue.
Mr. Smeaton was struck with my subtle philosophy. He defended
himself by some abstract doctrines of the schoolmen, and I let him off.
I found he had afterwards said to James Bruce that he had conversed
with many, but he had never found a gentleman who had such a
foundation, and if I lived I must be a very great man.
[London Chronicle'] 8
THURSDAY 23 APRIL. Letter from an English soldier in the
Corsican service to his cousin at Salisbury.
Island of Capra, this 20th Day of March 1 767.
Dir Bob, This is to let you know I am piur and well, thank God.
You knows as how I never coud be quaiet, bot was allwis awishing for
somthing to do. And I had mi bellif ool of it in Germani, and win I was
dismist the servis as laim, I cryd lyk a nu born child to Doctor Arm-
strong, and that wurthi sowl gaiv me a guiny and a paiper all ful of
diricshiuns how to git mi ligg heeld. So you knows as how I cumd
horn and recuvert, and as how I next embarkt to Martinico [and had
hot wurk cnuff of it. I then went with my Captain to Itali] 9 wer I
heard mooch tauk of them here Corsicans, so over I gos, and faith Bob
8 In the following "invention," Boswell imitates illiterate letters in the novels of
Fielding, Richardson, and Smollett, and anticipates such comic American char-
acters as Mr. Dooloy,
9 The phrases in brackets were added in Boswell's hand to his marked copy of the
Chronicle, The printer must have dropped them out inadvertently.
60 Auchinleck, 23 April 1767
I never was better. The General on em Poll is as good a man as the
King himself, whom God blis, I shall never sarv another whyl he his
any thing to do. He speaks to us in inglish for you must know thair ar
fyv mor on us inglish, two on em Scots, but they call us all inglish
here, Wir not listit nor sworn befor a Justis-, no, no, all Volonteers, and
never a lash, all bold and free as as many lyons. We haiv littel pai to
signifi but enuff of good vittals and drink, sweet mutton as any on the
downs, and the best of wyns as plenty as smal bir in old Ingland. Youll
see by the Paipers wiv had an expedishun to the Island of Capra. We
landed saif and soon took thri forts, and ar now seeging the Sitedil.
Thair drol littel fellows them Corsicans. Som on em can tank to be
understood, as we went briscly on they cryd well don Brother Inglish,
well don Brother freemen. They fyt powrfuli, but I wish we had
Gunner Robison and som mor of the train, for thair tilleri dos not plai
so smart as I coud wish. If Duncan Drummond wer heer by Jove hid
blow the Genoeses to hell. 1 We heer as how a fleet is cumin against; us.
But we will all dy on the spot befor we giv it up. No more at present
but rests your loving Cousin
SAM: JONES.
FRIDAY 24 APRIL. My father and I went to the burial of the
Justice Clerk's lady. 2 I was not affected by such solemn feelings as I
used to be at burials. I did not see the rest so affected. A woman had
paid the common debt to nature and we interred her decently; that
was all. We had so heavy a rain that few of us came out of our ohaisos
to go into the islc, n My father and I sat snug. We came home through
the Trabboch, At; night [received] many letters; a great packet from
Temple, curious, &c.
1 Boswell had met Duncan Drummond, Captain in the Royal Regiment of Artil-
lery, in Genoa. There is no record of his having known David Robison, Lieuten-
ant Fireworker in the Royal Irish Artillery,
2 The Lord Justice-Clerk, acting head of the Justiciary Court, was Thomas Mil*
ler, a neighbour of the Bosweils at Auohinleck, On M iller 1 s elevation to this posi-
tion David Boswell wrote Boswell: "It is a shame that such a body sprung from
nothing should come before so many more worthy personages^ (a<) April tjttti),
8 The isle (see p. 28/2.1) was often used, as a burial place for the laird's family,
The burial probably took place in the family vault at Stair church.
Auchinleck, 24 April 1767 61
[Received 24 April, Temple to Boswell]
Mamhead, 13 April 1767
MY DEAR BOSWELL, I kept my promise in writing to you, but
my letter is so unreasonably long that I must defer sending it till I
get a frank from Lord Lisburne in town. 4 Indeed it is lucky I am going
thither, for I am in some danger. Boswell, what weak creatures are
we! how apt to forget ourselves, how prone to folly and vice! I wrote
to my friends in the North to get me a sober, careful maidservant to
manage my house, and on whom I might entirely depend, for I can-
not bear to suspect anybody and hate the trouble of ordering dinner,
&c. They have sent me a young creature of two and twenty, not hand-
some indeed, but the very picture of health, modest, gentle, and even
anxious to please me. I am a weak creature: good nature, affection
destroy me, I cannot resist it, I cannot get this girl out of my head.
How I despise myself! and what is worse, it makes me mad to think
my man is always by her. What shall I do! I am miserable, it has af-
fected my health, I wish to be dead. I know it is all owing to my situa-
tion; in any other I could never forget myself so much, but I see no-
body, I am as bad as you were at Utrecht, I rave, I burst into tears, I
almost say, why did you give me being? I cannot sleep, I call out aloud
in my bed. God, I hope I am not mad!
What shall I do! I'll go to town instantly, I'll go down to the
North, I'll come to you. And the lady at Berwick. They tell me I shall
be infamous there if I do not marry her. We must sacrifice our happi-
ness to our good name. You must give me leave, you must approve,
you must insist that I do not deceive her. How cruel it is that virtue
and peace of mind should depend so much upon circumstances, situa-
tion! Aristippus said a man that can live alone must either be a god or
a beast. A god alas! A beast I may be. But I would not injure her
for the world; I would not attempt it.
What I have said has given me some relief. My heart is not so
heavy. I write incorrectly^ but as I feel. You know your own weak-
nesses, you can pity mine. My constitution is rather a peculiar one.
My passions seemed to sleep till I came hither. I am much altered. I
4 Postage on letters was paid by the recipient, not the sender. It was customary
for members of Parliament to frank covers for their friends.
62 Auchinleck, 24 April 1767
am no longer that resigned, tranquil creature you knew me. My
thoughts are too much turned upon myself. Discontent, ambition, a
gentler passion, indolence, yet an insatiable thirst after knowledge
tear my very soul in pieces and make me a torment to myself. What a
picture have I drawn of myself! I cannot look at it. Pity your lost
Temple. Farewell, farewell, my dear Boswell.
WJ.T.
[Received 24 April, Temple to Boswell]
14 April 1767
MY EVER DEAR FRIEND, I have just now received your letter
from Auchinleck, and to find you are yourself again suspends the
anguish of my troubled mind and is a most sensible relief to me. What
a pleasure is it to me to feel that the interest, the honour, the happi-
ness of another man are as dear to me as my own. I can never repent;
me of this double existence. It is the surest pledge of the goodness of
my heart; it may increase my pains, but it must also double my pleas-
ures. I thank your friend Johnston, I thank your brother David; they
are good young men. Davy's letter is sensible, and I think very like
our own at his age. I shall be curious to see Mrs. ~ ,~~ 's answer. Yours
is very polite, delicate, and philosophical.
I am in a very good frame now. My Boswell has broken the shack-
les of a dishonourable connection, is happy at the seat of his ancestors,
has thoughts of a union that will be a credit arid happiness to lum., and
is employing his recess from business in creating an eternal monu-
ment to his love of letters and of liberty/* You see I almost flatten* you
to keep you in humour, for you are a very young man, and you know
I regard no honours but personal ones worthily acquired; and it is not
certain that your book will last,
What shall I say of myself? 'Tis a fine morning, the sun shines
mildly and nature is reviving in every herb and flower. I am now
quite calm, pleased with and thankful for my existence, 1 look up to
the God of my being with silent gratitude. If we may say so., what
should I have lost had I never been! many cares, many sorrows, many
disgusts, but oh! what sensations, what thoughts, what, pleasures,
5 In the Preface to Corsica, Boswell spoke of his work as "my little monument to
liberty."
Auchinleck, 24 April 1767 63
How horrible the idea of never having existed, of existing no more. It
makes my very blood run cold. Certainly, certainly, impossible! Wol-
laston says God cannot disappoint us! silly enough! We cannot be dis-
appointed if we do not exist. And how are we accountable creatures?
Are we not the workmanship of God? Don't we think and move and
act through him? If he foreknows the tenor of our lives, where is free-
dom? These doubts can never be resolved. I give over the search. What
then do we really know? That we are created beings, born to live with
one another, to be grateful to God for what we enjoy, to be just, hu-
mane, temperate; this, I think, is all. 'Tis enough, Boswell. God bless
you. Your most affectionate,
WJ.T.
P.S. Your letters come directly to me here. I inclose your brother's
and the other with mine this afternoon to Lord Lisburne to frank.
Don't write again till you hear from me from London. I propose going
by Bath. I must amuse myself. Today I think the girl very ordinary,
her features coarse, far too much red in her face; besides, she cannot
write. Never was there such folly. Her lips too don't please me, and
her breasts are too small. And think of the want of delicacy in that
rank. The coarse jest, the lewd reply, the falseness, the unfeeling
heart, and the inexpressible meannesses and low arts. The best can
hardly resist example; water always tastes of the soil it flows through.
Let this be buried in oblivion. Do not reproach me, my dear Boswell.
Adieu.
MONDAY 2 7 APRIL. Corsica went on pleasantly. After dinner I
got a letter from ["Miss] that the black boy, &c. G I was very com-
posed; half delighted to obtain what I had wished, and half vexed to
think of the expense, &c. a curious example of the vanity of human
wishes. A man loves a woman to distraction. He would give the world
to have a child by her. It does not appear. He suffers, he quits his
angel, his love cools. He hears she is pregnant. world, world! But I
resolved to behave with humour and generosity, and pleased my
fancy with a thousand airy plans. I also got a proof of Dorando. What
a variety of productions! My father argued with Mr. Connell, or
rather joked, against reading books of controversy about religion. I
6 Boswell and Mrs. Dodds were both very dark in complexion.
64 A uchinleck, 2 7 April 1767
saw my father had never been uneasy upon these matters. His system
has never been tried. He has had it like a man who has carried his
walking-stick under his arm, being so strong that he has never had
occasion to put it to the ground; but, had he leaned on it, he might
perhaps have been obliged to seek for another^ or at least to look well
how he put his own to the ground.
TUESDAY 28 APRIL. Baillie Wilson of Kilmarnock and his son
came in the morning, and, as clients, had a claim to my time. We
walked about. I was very comfortable. At night I received a packet of
papers brought from Holland by Captain Kinloch. But my Journal
was a-missing. I was much vexed. I figured its being exposed to a hun-
dred enemies. I wrote immediately to Mr. Brown at Utrecht, and to
Mr. Kinloch of Gilmerton, the Captain's father. 7 James Bruce said it
would cast up yet. So I suppose he would have me not cast down.
Come, a pun is not a bad thing at times. 8
SATURDAY 2 MAY. My father was to have gone with me to Lain-
shaw, but he was not quite well. I rode to it. I dined at Treesbank, a
noble, hearty meeting with the honest Laird. I then called at Hill of
Kilmaurs', and saw Mr. Smeaton and his wife. I was as solid and
sagacious as I could wish. Biit I don't know how, I have not the vivid
feelings of satisfaction that I expected. Well, is not this the nil ad-
rnirari of Horace? the
prope res una,
Solaque, quae possit facere ac scrvarc bcatum?"
[Reached] Lainshaw at night; easy and happy.
SUNDAY 3 MAY. Stewarton church all day. Many reflections on
old stories. But calm and not shocked with the course of nature. Had
thought I would be in love; was so. 1 Steuart Hall supped with us, a
7 Boswell's Holland Journal never was found. See Boswvll in Holland, p. j^f) of
McGraw-Hill's edition (p. 349 of Heinemann's),
8 The next three days have an identical entry; "Corsica advanced,"
g u To admire nothing [is] almost the one and only thing to make and keep a
man contented" (altered from Epistles, L vi. 1-2).
1 With Jean Montgomerie, widow of James Montgomery of Lainshnw, and
sister-in-law of Lord Auehmleck's nieces. Boswell also calls her La Vwhtva (see
entry for 8 May). Ho had not been at Lainshaw since Montgomery's death in
LainshaW) 3 May 1767 65
genteel, lively man. At night a long walk, the Captain 2 and I; a solid,
serious conversation. Relished much his strong sense. Curious pun at
supper to ladies: "Is cod light? 0, yes, fish is light; anything that
swims is light." Mrs. was so agreeable you formed romantic
schemes, xxxx. 3 Lainshaw was really comfortable and orderly. You
had no dreary ideas of death. All is soon easy and well again by a suc-
cession of good people.
MONDAY 4 MAY. Early this morning some rioters about meal
at Stewarton were with you, being indicted against the circuit. 4 I
counselled them as well as I could, and promised to let them know
soon what to do. The ladies promised to come to Auchinleck. I set out,
dined at Kilmarnock with Mr. Wilson; saw manufactory of carpets
and the tannery. All well. Felt most agreeable change of the frame of
my mind as I sat by my cousins of Sornbeg, 5 with whom I had form-
erly been most weak and dreary.
TUESDAY 5 MAY. Very early set off with James Bruce to see my
lands of Dalblair. Took up Dr. Johnston at Cumnock. Rode on to
Hallglenmuir, [where we had] a good breakfast. Then Polosh arrived
and we all proceeded. Good fresh day; difficult riding. Now and then
like to sink. When we came to the foot of Wardlaw the physician, as
we called him, stopped. We made it out to the top; took a dram of rum.
Immense prospect: Ayr, Ailsa, Ben Lomond, Jura, Galloway hills,
Cairnsmore, Clydesdale hills. Resolved to erect a pillar here, but must
do it without lime, as there is none but at a good distance, though
there is plenty of stone, a quarry on the very top of the hill. We then
came to the house, a very poor one, but might be repaired. Got plenty
of bread and milk. It is a noble moor farm; a great extent above
three miles from, Wardlaw to the march behind Benhill, and two
December 1766, which perhaps accounts for his remark about "the course of
nature."
2 Captain Montgomerie-Cuninghame. 3 So in the original,
4 The rioters, discovering that meal was being shipped out of the country in a
time of scarcity, seized some and forced its sale to the local inhabitants. The
charges against the four defendants who appeared to face trial were found "not
proven."
5 The Campbells, generally called of Barquharrie. Bruce Campbell, mentioned
in the entry for i June, was of this family.
66 Dalblair^ 5 May 1 767
miles broad. Few places fit for planting; it may be tried on the
west point, Craigengour. We rode up to Benhill, a very pretty hill.
Unluckily my Lord Dumfries has one half of it. But I can make a
plantation of a triangular or oval shape. There is in Dalblair variety
of moorground, a tup park well inclosed, some arable land near the
house, and a few trees which the snow hurts much. On the Gass water
there is a great appearance of lead, [and] large and extensive veins of
spar. It may be a noble quarry in time. . . .
THURSDAY j MAY .... In the evening arrived Mrs. Mont-
gomerie, Mrs. Cuninghame, &c.-> from Lainshaw.
[London Chronicle"}
THURSDAY j MAY. A letter from the Hague, dated April 28,
says, "Signer Romanzo, the Corsican courier, passed by here lately in
his return from London, He appeared remarkably gay, but made a
profound secret of his negotiations. His maitre d y hotel was heard to
say that the taking of Capraja had gained Corsica 100,000 extra-
ordinary credit from the English merchants."
FRIDAY 8 MAY. At night [ came ) Sir Adam Forgusson and
George and Professor Wallace. You was quite inamorato of /Vz Vc-
dova. All went well. After supper somebody talked of flirtation with a
married woman nothing but trifles and jests, &c. Said my father:
"Ay, ay; they begin wi' needles and prins and etid wi' honied. nowt" n
The best conceit I have heard. The day had passed we'll, yet you was
uneasy to have company, even your own relations. Curious turn.
Worthy Sir Adam wondered you was "still on Dougias side," The Fall
of Terni surprised me, but not like this, 7
SATURDAY 9 MAY, Walked about with Mrs, Cuuinghame; re-
called old stories. Spoke of the family hypochondria quite seriously;
saw it was believed in the country. Both you and honest David have a
6 A Scottish proverb meaning that those* who begin by stealing needles and pins
end by stealing nawt (cattle*). Lord Audtinleek is also alluding, of course, to th
horns of the cuckold,
T Boswell had visited the Cascade* of Velino at Terni on his trip to Italy, and
thought it "prodigious wild" (Rosuwll on the, Grand Tour: //#/v, (,''raVa ? and
France, 14 February 1765).
Auchinleck^ g May 1767 67
certain pride to think of it to a certain degree. But it would be very
bad should it be universally known. There are also two ways of view-
ing it. Either thus: there is a distemper in that family, all crack-
brained; or thus: that family is remarkable for genius and worth,
though they have a cast of melancholy, often the attendant of dis-
tinguished minds. I am now perfectly well upon the whole. Let my
actions bear evidence.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: On 1 1 May, Boswell set out with his father to
join the southern Justiciary circuit at Dumfries. "Want of sleep had
hurt" him, and for the first time in "many months" he had a sharp
attack of hypochondria, seeing the vanity of all things: "judges,
chaises, men, and horses." Recovering by the time they reached Dum-
fries on the 1 2th, he divided his time between the law court during the
day and assemblies at night. He became fond of a Mrs. Laurie ("Not
yet firm against fine eyes"), and on 17 May after a long walk with
her and others reported himself "in love like a madman," but "knew
it would not last."
[He and his father started for home the next day, riding through
Auchinleck village on 19 May with the trumpeters, attached to Lord
Auchinleck in his position as judge, sounding their call. The next day
on a "good ride to Ayr" for the session of the court there, Boswell com-
posed The Douglas Cause, a companion ballad to his earlier Hamilton
Cause. While at Ayr he rode out to Adamtown, Kate Blair's estate
("fine lands, large orchards, good house, but in disorder") ; he "was
much joked on having been viewing the premises." Business went
well: he got a "handsome fee of six guineas" for defending some riot-
ers from Galloway. He wrote for 24 May: "Felt now that former ideas
of recommending myself to the county with anxious care were gone,
and that I just did my duty and showed my talents free and uncon-
cerned." Yet, he added later, his vivacity still appeared "feverish in
this cold and composed country." He was home for breakfast on 27
May.]
THURSDAY 28 MAY. Mr. Claud 8 and I went to Adamtown,
dined, passed the afternoon agreeably, [and] stayed all night.
8 Claud Boswell of Balmuto, Lord Auchinleck's first cousin but a couple of years
younger than Boswell. Later as a judge in the Court of Session he was styled Lord
Balmuto.
68 Adamtown, 29 May 1767
FRIDAY 29 MAY. Mrs. Blair and Miss came with us to Auchin-
leck. We rode by the chaise. . . . After tea walked down to the old
place, and from thence up the waterside to the Broomholm and so
home.
SATURDAY 30 MAY. My father would not let them go. Wettish
weather. We walked to the grotto and down the grotto walk, and then
to the old place. Miss Blair and Mr. Claud and I walked to the top of
the old castle, and then with Mr. Overseer Bruce we made the com-
plete round of the avenues and came in by the Hern Gate. Polqu-
hairn, Mr. Thomas Wallace, &c. dined. Dr. Johnston called after din-
ner. We walked again to the natural bridge. I had a deep return of
gloom. I wished the ladies away. I was quite discontented. At night;
recovered. Looked at medals.
SUNDAY 31 MAY. All at church. We had our dues. First [we
drank] the twopenny, which was to be cleared off to make room for
the strong ale to be decanted in the stoup. My father filled always the
other capful 1 to Mr, Claud and me, and said he made slop-bowls of us.
All went well. Honest Hallglenmuir was with us. Yet I looked some
years before me, and saw that I would not feel then as I figure in
prospect, no more than I feel now what I have figured in years past.
At night walked at the old place, and down to the cave at iho back of
the garden.
MONDAY i JUNE. The ladies agreed to stay one day longer, Bui
it was a wet day. My mind had been relaxed by elegant dissipation. I
called myself to my post and wrote Corsica as well as ever At, night
Bruce Campbell with us. [I was] too free and nmipageneous. Time
must cure all.
TUESDAY 2 JUNE. Went; with the* ladles to CoiLsficlcl/ J Fit ic day*
[Played] at ninepins with Messrs. Gland., Bnico Campbell, and Sandy
Montgomorie, and then all four in dining room with coats off played
"The "old castle" dated back to the days of the Auchinleeks of Auchmleek,
James IV had granted their estate to Thomas Boswell in 1504. The "old plan*"
had probably been built in the middle* of the iGth century, It was superseded by
Lord, Auohinleck's handsome now mansion,
1 A "cap" was a wooden cup or bowl; a "stoup," a deep, narrow vessel,
2 The home of Alexander Montgomerio, next in line,, after the Karl's brother, to
the Earldom of Eglinton, The Sandy Montgomerie of the next sentence is prob-
ably his son Alexander,
Coils field, 2 June 1767 69
at the handball, quite keen. Was pleased to relax a little into youthful
frolic. Rather too impetuous here; better so than being too bashful.
Home at night. Auchinleck seemed desolate without the ladies.
WEDNESDAY 3 JUNE. From this day till I left Auchinleck I
omitted to mark daily the incidents of my life. In general I was at
home, and much composed and happy. I went over one day and drank
tea at Barquharrie; and one day when Gilmillscroft and Hallglenmuir
dined at Auchinleck, I proposed to them to take a ride up and see the
coalwork at Barglachan, which we accordingly did. As we returned
by our village, I said, "Gilmillscroft, are you dry? Cooper Gib has
good twopenny." The Laird relished the proposal. Up came the
worthy physician (Doctor Johnston), and in we all went to Cooper
Gib's (the provost) , where we had twopenny with cap and stoup and
drank like fishes, while the provost and the overseer (James Bruce),
who was also of the party, drank punch at a by table. We drank "Agri-
culture," "Trade," "Mines and minerals," "Coal and lime," &c., and
Miss Blair in all manner of ways: "Her speedy return to the loft of
Auchinleck kirk," &c. We sung most nobly, and towards the end of
the evening we got rum in gills and took a papin* all the time eating
bread and cheese, both raw and roasted. We then got in Halbert the
schoolmaster and drank to the rising generation. Time galloped away.
I loved to be a perfect Scots laird of the last age. We were vastly joy-
ous. At ten Gilmillscroft went away.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Boswell's Journal unfortunately lapses for the
rest of 1767., one of the busiest and most amusing periods of his life.
It can be replaced in part by his letters and other documents, partic-
ularly by his correspondence with Temple, which concentrates on
their love affairs,
[The Douglas cause was much in the foreground at this time.
Dorando was published anonymously on 15 June and became at
once a succes de scandale, going into a third edition. And Boswell
found another way of exciting interest in Douglas. On 1 9 May, a letter
printed in The London Chronicle announced that "no less than five
eminent writers of shorthand are preparing to set out for Edinburgh,
in order to take the reports for the Scots judges on the Douglas cause."
3 A combination of small beer and whisky.
jo Summer of 1767: Summary
These five shorthand writers, ranking with Signer Romanzo as one
of Boswell's most elaborate and entertaining inventions, were to have
a short but distinguished career. On 16 June they were reported to
have passed through Berwick the previous day. On the igth Tlie
Edinburgh Advertiser built them up in extended character sketches.
Mr. Tracy, for example, had dissipated a fine fortune "by extravagant
living with the late Duke of Hamilton and many of the first nobility."
Of another, Mr. Burridge, it was reported that he " wears a brown coat
and a cut wig, and looks as grave as a parish clerk; yet over his bottle
he has the most droll and ludicrous sallies." He had been a govern-
ment spy in the Rebellion of 1745. "It will be in vain to think of
excluding the shorthand men from your court," the Advertiser an-
nounced. "They will appear like men of the highest rank and quality.
Nay, they have often been known to dress themselves in women's
clothes." By 26 June, they had actually been in court, and naturally
were sympathetic to the Douglas side.
["At this point the joke ends. The publishing" of extracts from
Dorando and the continued reports of the progress of the shorthand
men so infuriated Robert Dundas, the Lord President, thai he hauled
the publishers before the bench for publishing- opinion upon a case
sub judice. Boswell himself was engaged as counsel for Tlie Edin-
burgh Advertiser, and wrote a brief filled with demure sarcasms
against the Lord President and his Court. But however much Dorando
might sway the multitude to the side of Douglas (and it was un-
questionably very influential in that direction), it failed to impress
the Lord President, who on 14 July; when seven of the judges had
voted for Douglas and seven against, cast his deciding vote for the
Hamilton party. The ease was appealed at once to the I louse of Lords,
fin the mean time, Boswell was still advancing in Corsica, which
he kept before the public eye through the career of SIguor Roxmmxo
and other newspaper items,]
[London Chronicle*]
SATURDAY 6 JUNE, Extract of a loiter from Marseilles, dated
May i. "Signer Romanzo, the Corsican courier, has been among vis
these ten days past. The Duke de ~., having said something very
Archibald Douglas, ist Baron Douglas of Douglas (1748-1827), from an
engraving in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, after a portrait
by George Willison. (Boswell was present in Willison's studio when
this painting was begun. See the entry in his Journal for 22 July 1769)
Auchinleck, 6 June 1767 71
impertinent against the British nation, and particularly against a
great personage, the generous Corsican told him that the British were
a nation of men, and their King the best prince in Europe. He said this
with such an emphasis and so indignant a look that the Duke thought
proper to call him out, and they fought behind the ramparts. The
Duke was severely wounded, but Signor Romanzo escaped unhurt.
This affair has done him great honour with everybody. Gest un beau
coup cela pour prendre conge^ said a colonel of the Gendarmes. M.
Romanzo is preparing to embark on his return to Corsica."
THURSDAY ii JUNE. Toulon, May 9. It is said that when
Signor Romanzo had an audience of General Paoli to render an
account to the illustrious Chief of his different negotiations, his Ex-
cellency insisted that the conversation should be in English.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 1 2 June 1 767
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 philo-
sophical; then to London and desiring me not to write till I should
hear from you; and now to my astonishment at Berwick upon Tweed. 5
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 neighbourhood 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
4 That's a good way of taking leave.
6 Temple wrote from Berwick on 11 June that (i), the "innocent" servant-maid
he had wished to make love to had had a child before coming to Mamhead; (2),
that he now intended, though with reluctance, to marry Ann Stow, unless Bos-
well could raise serious objections; (3), that he wished to visit Boswell in Edin-
burgh.
72 Edinburgh, 12 June 1767
our romantic groves I adored her like a divinity. I have already given
you her character. My father is very desirous 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. 6 1 had a letter from
her but a few days ago, which made me cry. And what shall I tell
you? My late Circe, Mrs. _, is with child. What a fellow am I!
Come to me, my Temple, and on that Arthur Seat where our youthful
fancies roved abroad into extravagant, imaginary futurity 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
unexpected meeting! What a variety have we to talk of! 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 done in employments.
[Received ?i8 June, Temple to Boswell]
[Berwick] Wednesday [1,7 June 1767*]
MY DEAR BOSWELL, Your last letter gives me both pleasure and
pain, I am happy to think of the connection you have in view, but
distressed at what you tell me of the consequence of your late tin-
fortunate passion. It must not be known on any account: it would give
all your friends much uneasiness and might disgust the young lady.
Your own prudence will point; out the best methods to keep it from
the light; your humanity will protect and take all due care of it.
I am impatient to come to you. Pray name a week when you can
give yourself entirely to me. Business rrmst not interrupt us: no long-
winded briefs, no importunate, noisy clients; friendship arid philoso-
phy ill agree with interest and clamoixr. . .
You are too ycmng a man to be retained in the Douglas cause, yet
G GIrolama Piocolomini's letters to Boswell during the period covered by this vol-
ume are published in Boswell on the Grand Tour: Italy, Corsica, and
Appendix A.
Edinburgh, 18 June 1767 73
as I hate a crowd, and you will probably wish to hear the trial, I
should not choose to come while it is in agitation. I intend, and indeed
must return to Devonshire the middle of next month; name therefore
your time, and let Thomas take a comfortable lodging for me for a
week; yet not till I hear from you again. Yours, my dear friend,
WJ.T.
I am amazed at the constancy of your Italian friend. How must
she write to force tears from you? But you are easily melted.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 22 June 1767
MY DEAREST FRIEND, 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
tomorrow Isabel Walker, who was one of Lady Jane Douglas's maids,
and is the only person now alive who has been accused as an accom-
plice in the alleged crime of partus supposition Her examination will
be solemn and important. Though I am not a counsel in that cause,
yet I am much interested in it. I doubt if it will be determined this
week. But I am persuaded it will not be put off longer than next week.
The week after next my father is judge in the Outer House, and
I shall have such a load of business that we could be together very
little. I would therefore have you to come and stay next week when
I hope to be in a great measure disengaged, and any hours that busi-
ness absolutely demands shall be compensated by reading journals
and letters which you will delight to peruse.
You will also have my Account of Corsica. How happy am I that
my Temple comes to give it his friendly 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 lodgings in the same stair 8 with us. When I get your answer
fixing a particular day, I shall secure them for you. We shall live en-
7 Supposititious birth. See Introduction, p. xiii.
8 Lord Auchinleck's house was one of the floors of Blair's Land, Parliament Close,
a multiple tenement served by a common stair.
74 Edinburgh., 22 June 1767
tirely in the luxury of philosophy and friendship. We shall have the
society of Dr. Blair, Dr. Gregory, Dr. Ferguson, and our other literati.
But we shall keep the best portion of our time sacred to our intimate
affection.
My dearest friend! is it not a distinguished felicity to participate
of the highest friendship as much as the greatest and best of other ages
have done? This is literally the case with you and me. We are divine
madmen to the dull and interested many. Will you come on Saturday
or on Monday? Why, why, is it session time! Temple, you must be
at Auchinleck. You must sec my charming bride. If you cannot return
in autumn, pray resolve to take a ride now, arid on pretence of viewing
the seat of your friend view also the woman who has his heart. Come,
you have the fire of a Spaniard. I know you have. Oh, think of this.
I am ever, my dear, dear Temple, most sincerely yours,
JAMES BOSWKLL.
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 entreat of
you to take one romantic ride to oblige essentially your most cordial
friend. God bless you.
Sir Alexander Dick, a Corycius sencx" quite a classical man and
much of an Italian in pleasantness of disposition, lias a fine seat just
a mile from town* He is very desirous to see Mr, Temple, We shall b<
quite at home there. Well, I never was happier. Adieu till we meet,
[Received ?2/> June, Temple to Boswell |
| Berwick] 24 June f t 767 |
THANK YOU, MY DKARKST BOSWKLL, for your affectionate letter.
Your friendship, 1 think, is the only happiness I enjoy in life. Indeed
my relations are my greatest enemies: my father cruel, an ungrateful
brother. I beg your pardon but cannot help complaining, for I foel to
my very soul.
But, till 1 return, let mo banish from my memory every disagree-
able reflection. 1 am going to see my Boswell, my friend, my dearest
"Old man of Corycus" (altered from Virgil, Georgia iv. 127), Virgil describes
him as a hospitable old fanner making the most of his unproductive land.
Edinburgh, 25 June 1 767 75
friend. Boswell, believe me, I love you as I do myself, and when I
die shall thank God above all things in life for your friendship. Indeed
our intimacy little requires these declarations, but to have the virtue
to make them with sincerity is a pleasure which I shall ever glory in.
Let the boast of others be eloquence and wit and learning, let them too
be our ornament, but let the basis of our fame be laid in virtue, hu-
manity, and friendship.
God bless us! you talk as if you had more business than Norton or
Mr. Yorke. 1 In time you may be worthy of as much, but do not, do not
think such methods necessary to raise my esteem of you; 'tis an injury
to yourself as well as to your friend.
I am greatly disappointed to find the young lady is not at Edin-
burgh. I fully expected to have had the pleasure of paying my respects
to her there. I am the more grieved, as I fear it will hardly be possible
for me to go to Auchinleck.
Let me now congratulate you on my Lord Hailes' approbation. I
dare say he is a good judge, and I now begin to flatter myself that your
Account of Corsica is a book that will stand. 2 1 trust it will and hope it
will make but a small segment of the glorious circle that is yet to
surround my Boswell. I shall be abashed in the presence of your
Gregories and Fergusons, but shall recover myself when I recollect I
have seen a Gray. Yours ever,
WJ.T.
Expect me Monday evening.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, Friday 26 June 1 767
MY DEAREST FRIEND, The first thing I must do is to defend
myself against a charge of affected importance. Yes, indeed I do say
neither Mr. Yorke nor Mr. Norton can be busier than I shall be the
week that my father sits as judge in our Outer House. For you must
know that the absurdity of mankind makes nineteen out of twenty
employ the son of the judge before whom their cause is heard. 3 And
1 Two former Attorneys-General of England.
2 Hume's opinion as reported by Boswell. See p. 35.
3 From 29 June to 4 July, Boswell was concerned in fourteen cases.
76 Edinburgh, 26 June 1 767
you must take it along with you that I am as yet but a very raw coun-
sellor, 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 pretend
to 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. For it is strange that it
should be so, but undoubtedly we are very well pleased that those
who cannot admire us for what we truly possess should admire us for
what we do not.
Thus far my defence, and now, my ever dear friend, lot 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
room with a large alcove bedplace or two rooms. As you are to stay
immediately above us, Thomas will be always ready to attend upon
you, as I suppose you will not bring a servant with you.
I would not cloud the present frame of ray mind with any gloomy
reflection that concerns either you or myself. It is better to com-
municate them when we meet, when our mutual sympathy and
friendly warmth may temper and relieve them. In the mean time,
I must tell you that on Tuesday last; drinking Miss Blair's health (for
that is the name of my angelic princess) n I got myself quite intoxi-
cated, went to a bawdy-house, and passed a whole night in the arms
of a whore. She indeed was a fine, strong, spirited girl., a whore worthy
of Boswell if Boswell must have a Whore,, and 1 apprehend no bad con-
sequences. But I am abashed, and determined to keep the sir iciest
watch over my passions,
You must resolve to visit my goddess. You arc a stranger,, and may
do a romantic thing. Yon 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 arc suspended. Fray prepare
yourself for this adventure. We shall settle it, I hope. I cannot go with
you though* You arc to sec our county for a jaunt upon my recom-
mendation, &c. Adieu, my dearest friend. Ever yours,
JAMES BCXSWELU
This is Friday, If you write me a line tomorrow, I shall have it on
Monday by dinner- time-
Edinburgh, 29 June 1767 77
[Received ?2g June, Temple to Bos well]
[Berwick] Saturday 27 June [1767]
I CONFESS MYSELF MUCH IN THE WRONG, MY DEAR BOSWELL, and
beg your pardon. May you soon have always as much business as Mr.
Yorke or Norton, and may I ever be thus mistaken when I apprehend
anything to your disadvantage!
If any ill effects are the consequence of your last week's extra-
vagant sally, you will be in a fine situation indeed! Your libation to
Bacchus is excusable enough, but you might have omitted the sacrifice
to Venus.
So Miss Blair is this angel's, goddess's name. Pray is she like any-
thing human? Would Miss Bosville give one any idea of her, or could
any of Lady Harrington's daughters serve by way of contrast? 4 In-
deed, Boswell, it gives me a good deal of concern that she should be in
the country at this time.
You are good to get me a lodging so near you. I should imagine
the alcove room will do well enough, for I am now learning to be an
economist. I shall set out tomorrow evening after divine service and
sleep at Old Cambus, so that I shall have an easy journey next day to
Edinburgh. I bring a servant and horses, but shall send them back
the morning after my arrival. Economy again, you see!
I dare say I shall like Sir Alexander Dick. I have heard of him,
formerly a physician, and Mr. Spence sometimes spends a summer
with him. 5
There is a Cambridge acquaintance of mine too at Edinburgh at
present, a Mr. Wyvill, a clergyman of a good living in Essex, a man
of letters and merit, and more orthodox than your friend. 6 He is upon
a visit to his father, who has an employment in the customs. You must
let me introduce him to you.
Would you believe it, but I really tremble to think of hearing you
at the bar. Tis childish, for I have been told by several people that
4 Lady Harrington and at least one of her daughters were notable beauties.
5 Joseph Spence, literary and art critic, is best remembered for his collection of
anecdotes about Pope and his friends. He had been Professor of Poetry at Oxford.
6 Christopher Wyvill became a noted parliamentary reformer and advocate of
religious toleration.
7 8 Edinburgh, 29 June 1 767
you are beginning to make a figure. Persevere in the glorious career,
my dear Boswell, arid be the joy and boast of your worthy father's
old age, and ever the dearest friend of your affectionate
TEMPLE.
Adieu till Monday evening.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: No records remain of Temple's visit except the
following sheet of instructions, which Boswell gave to him for his tour
to Auchinleck and Adamtown. Temple intended to arrive on Monday
29 June, as his letter printed immediately above indicates; he prob-
ably began his journey to the west of Scotland on the following
Monday, 6 July, since he wished to be out of town during the period
(7-14 July) when the judges were delivering their opinions on the
Douglas cause.]
INSTRUCTIONS FOB MB. TEMPLE ON His
TOUR TO AUCHINLECK AND ADAMTOWN ?
He will set out in the fly on Monday morning, and roach Glasgow
by noon. Put up at Graham's, 8 and ask for the horses bespoke by Mr.
Boswell. Take tickets for the Friday's fly. Eat some cold victuals. Set
out for Kingswclls, to which you have good road; arrived there, get a
guide to put you through the moor 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 entertainment as the family is not at
home.
Tuesday. See the house, look at the front, choose your room, ad-
vise as to pavilions. Have James Bruce to conduct you to ihe cab
house/ to the old castle, to whore I am to make the superb grotto, up
the river to Broomholm, 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
7 Published in Letters of James Boswell Atldrewd to the R<*v. W. L Temple fee!.
Sir Philip Francis] 1857, pp. 97-99. Those instructions wore apparently written
out on a separate sheet of paper, which is now lost.
8 The Saracen's Head Inn, Glasgow-
Probably Boswell wrote "old house,"
Edinburgh, 8 July 1767 79
bring you to Adamtown a little after eleven. Send up your name; if
possible, put up your horses there^ they can have cut grass; if not,
Thomas will take them to Mountain, a place a mile off, and come
back and wait at dinner. Give Miss Blair my letter. 1 Salute her and
her mother; ask to walk. See the place fully; think what improvement
should be made. Talk of my mare, the purse, the chocolate. 2 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 im-
petuous, how much accustomed to women of intrigue. Ask gravely,
"Pray, don't you imagine there is something of madness in that fam-
ily?" 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 Newmilns, 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 Newmilns or from Adam-
town. 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 Foulis, will show you all.
Friday. Come back in the fly. Bring your portmanteau here. We
shall settle where you are to lodge.
N.B. You are to keep an exact account of your charges.
[Received c. 28 July, Temple to Boswell]
[Berwick, c. 27 July 1 767]
MY BEAR BOSWELL, Forgive me for not writing to you imme-
diately on my return hither, birt really when I am at Berwick I am
never myself, oppressed with low spirits, dissatisfied with myself and
with everything around me.
1 Not recovered.
2 Miss Blair sent him chocolate as Boswell wrote to Sir Alexander Dick (21
August 1767), but nothing is known of the purse or the mare.
8o Edinburgh, 28 July 1767
I had a very accurate letter from Dr. Gregory; I have begun my
regimen and shall be punctual in observing it. Pray have you heard
from Miss Blair? If she does not write favourably of me, mention not
a word of what she writes. Her dear idea shall ever accompany me,
and if you lose her you may be assured you will regret it as long
as you live. Next week will probably unite me to one not so handsome,
indeed, but I would fain hope almost as good. Make my best respects
to your excellent father, and remember me to David, honest Johnston,
and tell Wyvill I am ashamed of not taking my leave of him but shall
write to him soon. I can say nothing more but that I am ever yours
most sincerely,
WJ.T.
P.S. I hope poor Thomas is better. When the third edition of
Dorando comes out, I must beg two copies. 3
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 29 July 1 767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, I have more reason to make an apology than
you had, for I have been longer negligent. Let us guard against this
vice and not subject ourselves to continual returns of remorse to a
certain degree. For every instance of our doing those things which
we ought not to have done and leaving undone those things which
we otight to have done is attended with more or less of what is truly
remorse. I am an unhappy man. The consequences of my debauch
are now fatal, for I have got a disease from which I suffer severely. It
has been long of appearing and is a heavy one. T shall stay a month
here after the Session rises, and be cured. I am patient under it, as a
just retribution for rny licentiousness. But 1 greatly fear that Mrs,
__ is infected, for I have been with her several times since my de-
bauch, and once within less than a week of the full appearance of mis-
chief. In her present situation the consequences will be dreadful; for,
besides the pain that she must endure, an innocent 'being* cannot fail
to be injured. Will you forgive me, Temple, for exclaiming that all
this evil is too much for the offence of my getting drunk because I
3 Curiously enough, the third edition of Dorando had been advertised as early as
29 June in The Caledonian Mercury.
Edinburgh, 29 July 1767 81
would drink Miss Blair's health every round in a large bumper? But
general laws often seem hard in particular cases. I am not, however,
certain that Mrs. will be ill. I would fain hope that she may
have escaped. I have told her the risk she runs. Her good temper is
astonishing. She does not upbraid me in the least degree.
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 compliments to her and Mrs. Blair.
What can be the matter? Probably the letter you carried has been
thought so strange, and so distant from any rational scheme that it has
been resolved no longer to carry on so friendly and easy an inter-
course with me. Or what would you say if the formal Nabob whom
you saw there had struck in, and so good a bird in the hand has made
the heiress quit the uncertain prospect of catching the bird on the
bush? 4 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 adventures, though I do own to you that I have a more
serious attachment to her than I ever had to anybody. For "here every
flower is united." 5 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.
[Received ?8 August, Temple to Boswell]
[Berwick] 7 August 1 767
DEAREST BOSWELL, I just sit down to acquaint you that I was
married yesterday. Do I repent? God knows; I'll tell you a twelve-
4 The Nabob (that is, the man returned from India with a fortune) was appar-
ently William Fullarton of Rosemount.
5 From Macheath's song in act I of Gay's Beggar's Opera,
82 Edinburgh, 8 August 1 767
month hence, I own I can't yet perceive that it makes any difference.
I awoke in the morning not at all surprised at myself. I got up, read,
and eat and drank as usual. Indeed, I am apt to believe that almost
all changes are much more in the idea than in the reality. The mind
is a very complaisant and pliant gentleman, and easily suits himself
to every situation. Thanks to your excellent father; I have in great
measure adopted his idea.
But how can I talk so indifferently when you arc so justly dis-
tressed. I feel with you most sincerely, both on your own accoxint and
that of the dear innocent exposed to such danger. Forgive me if I
suspect Mrs. herself, but I must suspect her; and dearest Boswcll,
guard, guard against her artful openness and vulgarity. But you see
the consequence of such connections, and how dare I call the punish-
ment unjust? It is according to the order of nature and Providence,
and you will ever find, my orthodox friend, that faith without works
is nothing, that virtue is happiness and vice misery; henceforth, never
have the audacity to refuse drinking David Hume in my company,
and learn to reverence his name till you can imitate his example. I
know I write confusedly and incorrectly, but consider my situation.
My respects to your father, compliments to David, Wyvill, and
worthy Johnston. Most sincerely yours,
T.
From my wife's bedchamber^ this 7th of August, 1 767. Tn my next
I shall not forget Miss Blair, Perhaps your jealousy of the Nabob is
not groundless.
[Boswcll to Temple]
Edinburgh, 1 1 August 1 767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, T sincerely congratulate you on your mar-
riage, which from your manner of writing I take to ho a very good,
comfortable situation, Y<w have removed half my apprehensions, and
I suppose I shall likewise by and by experience the agreeable union.
But what can you say in defence of this heiress? Not a word front her
since you were there. You carried her one letter from me n and I wrote
her another a week after, neither of which have boon answered. You
must know that my present unhappy distemper joined with a cold
tmmght on a most terrible fever, and I was for several days In a very
Edinburgh, 11 August 1767 83
alarming situation. I am not yet got up, though I am in a fair way of
recovery from every evil. Well, but to return. I wrote Miss Blair on
Wednesday the 5th that I was afraid Mr. Temple had told her my
faults too honestly, so that she found she was mistaken in having too
good an opinion of me. That, however, she had punished me (only
think of that, Temple!) too much. That I felt it the more, because I
had been for some days confined to my bed by a feverish disorder, and
had been dreaming a great deal of her.
Now, my dear friend, suppose what you please: suppose her affec-
tions changed as those of women too often are, suppose her offended at
niy Spanish stateliness, suppose her to have resolved to be more re-
served and coy in order to make me more in love, nay suppose her be-
trothed 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 frank-
ness 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 whom I have ever
seen. Perhaps her mysterious conduct may be quite cleared up.
I am in great hopes that my black friend is safe. No symptoms
have yet appeared. Temple, what an escape. I had the other day 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.
David, Johnston, and all here wish you joy. So does Sir Alexander
Dick and Doctor Boswell. The honest Doctor thinks you a good quiet
philosopher, a kind of Parson Adams. 6 Inimitable! Wyvill was so
good as to call when I was very ill. I shall send to him and have him to
chat a while. I am to be a week or two here, quiet and studious. Mr.
Dilly, bookseller in the Poultry, has purchased my Account of Corsica.
I receive one hundred guineas three months after publication. 7 1 shall
be close employed all this autumn in revising it and correcting the
proof sheets. Let me hear from you soon.
The comic parson of Fielding's Joseph Andrews.
7 Edward Dilly with his younger brother Charles ran a well-known publishing
firm; Charles later published The Life of Johnson. It was at their house that Bos-
well managed to bring Johnson and Wilkes together for dinner.
84 Edinburgh, 25 August 1767
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 25 August 1 767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, Marriage is like to lose me a friend, for I
have not had a line from you for near a fortnight, although my last
letter was full of anxiety with regard to my amiable Miss Blair. 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 in-
forming you that she has made an apology herself. On Monday sen-
night I had the pleasure to receive a most agreeable letter from her,
in which she told me that my letter to her had lain eight days at the
post-house at Ayr, which was the occasion of her seeming neglect. You
see, my friend, how appearances are often very deceitful. This never
occurred either to you or me. I have refrained from communicating
this to you from a curiosity to see how you would endeavour to excuse
her conduct. But since I have waited so long in vain, I now make you
as easy as myself. 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 afternoon with me.
He is an admirable critic on my Account of Corsica. He Is gone on a
jaunt to Glasgow, &c. with his father and sister. He sends you his best
compliments. I hope to have him with me again in a day or two.
I ever am, my dear Temple, your most faithful friend,
JAMES BOSWKLL.
[Received 26 August, Temple to Boswell]
Berwick, 2/5 August 1 767
MY DEAR BOSWKLL., I thank you arid all our friends for their
good wishes. I make no doubt of being happy. My wife is a modest,
sensible, good-natured girl, and always seems best pleased when we
see least company. She studies my humour in everything, and will
make an excellent country parson's wife.
I am glad I did not know of your illness, I trust you are now quite
recovered, perhaps indeed once more happy at yoxir princely retire-
Edinburgh., 26 August 1767 85
ment at Auchinleck. Pray endeavour to acquire a juster relish for
natural beauties, let the fauns and naiads of your groves and streams
view you of tener, and never neglect one evening to invoke the genius
of the Broornholm.
There is no mystery in Miss Blair's conduct. The Nabob with
bended knee has offered her his crown, and she is in doubt whether to
accept of it, till by a little finesse the haughty Boswell is obliged to be
explicit. Tell her immediately you love her, will marry her, or be
content to lose her.
You are very lucky in selling Corsica so well. I hope it will bring
you fame as well as money. I desired you to send me two copies of
Dorando with the speeches; 8 pray don't neglect it. Thomas will easily
find out the Berwick carrier.
I am quite sick of being here, but cannot yet get away. Nicholls
is so kind as to go down to supply my living. There is even now such
a thing as disinterested friendship.
Remember me in the kindest manner to Wyvill. I am sorry I have
not spirits to write to him, but I shall be able to do nothing while I
stay here,
Mrs. Temple sends her compliments to you. Pray write soon, and
believe me, ever yours, my dear friend, most sincerely,
WJ.T,
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 28 August 1767
MY DEAR FRIEND, It seems you and L> like the magnetic needles
of the two friends, have both turned towards each other at the same
time. You would receive the day before yesterday a letter from me
complaining of your long silence, and I 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 fortunate men in the world. As Miss Blair is my great
object at present, and you are a principal minister in forwarding the
alliance, I enclose you the latest papers upon the subject. You will
find the letter I wrote her when ill, where you will see a Scots word
8 Presumably copies of the judges' speeches in the Douglas cause (see p. 87).
86 Edinburgh, 28 August 1767
roving from the French rever, as if to dream awake. 9 I put It down
as a good English word, not having looked 1 Johnson. You will next
find the lady's answer; then a long letter from me which required an
extraordinary degree of good sense and good temper to answer it with
an agreeable propriety; then her answer, which exceeds my highest
expectations.
Read these papers in their order, and let me have your Excellency's
opinion. 2 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 Adam-
town and stay a week. I will have no disguise. We shall sec 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 3 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 docs not go till Thursday. Honest
Johnston, who sits by me, sends you his most sincere congratulations.
Pray make my best compliments to Mrs. Temple. 1 ever am n dear
Temple, your most affectionate friend,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[Bos well to Temple]
Edinburgh, 29 August 1 767
DEAR TEMPLE, My letter of yesterday was so full of fcho Princess
that I had not room for anything else. I cannot, however, delay ex-
pressing 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
The New English Dictionary cites this dialectical word as ran*, and gives but
one example of its use, and that from the year 1789. BoswelPs derivation of the
word is incorrect.
1 Scots for "looked in."
2 These letters have not been recovered,
3 Miss Blair, of course, not Mrs. Dodds.
Edinburgh, 29 August 1767 87
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 en-
gaging 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 Dick said. My old and
intimate friend, can I 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 [has] a
contented, cheerful temper, and is perfectly generous. She has not had
a single guinea from me since you was here, nor has she given me the
least hint as if she wanted money. It is my duty to be kind to her
while she bears Edward, the Black Prince. 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. This connection keeps me reasonable
in my attachment to the Princess. 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 very imperfect. You will soon have a
better edition. With compliments to Mrs. Temple, I ever am yours,
&<x,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Apart from his pursuit of Miss Blair and his
successful legal practice, Boswell's main interests during the remain-
der of 1767 were the great Douglas cause and Corsica. The theatre of
Douglas activities having shifted from Scotland to England, Boswell
now provided his new audience with two publications, one intended
to instruct and the other to move, it. On 24 November was published
88 September to December 1 767: Summary
The Essence of the Douglas Cause., which reduced the four thousand
pages of memorials and proofs to a neat, clear, and of course one-sided
pamphlet of eighty. Four days later appeared the Letters of Lady Jane
Douglas, an attractive but rather unscrupulous selection from Lady
Jane's private correspondence. While these works can hardly have af-
fected the Lords' decision, the latter especially had a profound influ-
ence on public opinion.
[With his publisher arranged for and Robert Foulis engaged as
printer, Boswell also had to work hard on Corsica. The Account had
probably been completed by the middle of June, and this could be
sent to the press at once. He received his first proof of it by the begin-
ning of September. The Dedication is dated "Auchinleck, 29 October
1 767^" which was his twenty-seventh birthday. But in spite of Billy's
promptings^ the Journal of a Tour was still being revised in line with
his friends' comments until well into November. Not until 30 Decem-
ber was the whole printed off, and Boswell able to sit back to wait for
its publication.]
[Received ?4 September, Temple to Boswell]
Berwick, 3 September 1767
MY DEAR BOSWELL, I received the packet and your letter by the
next post, and am happy to find that not Miss Blair but we are hi
fault. To be sure we might easily have supposed that such an accident
had happened, but where we are much interested, common sense
often deserts us. Upon the whole, however, as it has been cleared up
so agreeably I am far from repenting of our mistake,
I shall say nothing of your letter to the Princess; it is in your usual
manner, quite characteristic. She writes easily arid naturally-, like a
woman of sense and prudence* We must not look for wit and humour
indeed, but for simplicity and unaffected freedom. It; is the only style
in which a wife should write.
I am glad you are in so fair a way of recovery, T love your human-
ity to Mrs. - ,~ .., but afterwards you should really think of her no
more,
As you say there is a correct edition expected, you need not trouble
yourself to send the speeches.
Edinburgh, 4 September 1 767 89
Probably I shall continue here a fortnight longer. You certainly
should write to Adamtown. Do not forget my most respectful compli-
ments, and tell your charming mistress it is impossible she can do
anything to hurt herself in my esteem. I sincerely beg her pardon for
my unworthy suspicion; it was natural enough, she will own, but
Miss Blair stands single above her sex. . . .
I lead a very idle life. I read, I may well say, nothing, and at pres-
ent take much more care of my body than of my mind. I am perpet-
ually on horseback or walking in the fields; my wife is all my com-
pany, and I desire to see nobody else here. She desires her best compli-
ments to you. Return mine to Johnston. Yours ever, my dear Boswell,
most sincerely,
WJ.T.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 9 September 1 767
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 un-
easiness does not arise from ourselves, it will come to us from others.
How unaccountable is it that my father and I should be so ill to-
gether! He is a man of sense and a man of worth. But from some un-
happy 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 in-
stance, 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 rny
own style. I will be myself. I have said: "Why think so strangely of
my expression of being primus Mantuae?* Suppose I were married to
Miss Blair, would I not be primus Mantuae at Adamtown? And why
* "First in Mantua" (adapted from Virgil's Georgics, iii. 12).
go Edinburgh, 9 September 1 767
not? Would not you be pleased to see your son happy in Independence,
cultivating his little farm, and ornamenting his nuptial villa, and fit-
ting himself to fill one day, as well as possible, the place of a much
greater man?"
Temple, would not you like such a son? Would not you 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 North Briton. 5 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 me. 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 satis-
faction of being well with my father. I send you an extract from a
letter of yours which gave him a very bad opinion of Tcrnplc in the
year 1 759. It will divert you to read it at this distance of time. Pray
return it together with my father's letter by the earner who bring\s
you this and Dorando, of which 1 have sent only one copy, as I have
few here. When you got to London, I shall desire Mr, Wilkio^ my pub-
lisher, to let you have two or three of them. Let me know if packets
come safe by your carrier. ...
The press is opened, and my book is fairly set a-going.
navis, refcrot in mare tc novum/
The proof-sheets amuse me finely at breakfast. 1 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-
Boswoll probably mean to write "Britain."
a Temple had written to. Lord Auehinleck, proposing that he and Boswoll
should go together to Geneva to study. The letter contained the. words, "Voltaire!
Rousseau! Immortal names!"
TU ship! [the flood] will bear yon into a strange, sea" (altered from Horace*,
Odv$y I. xiv. i). Boswell seems to have in mind principally the concluding lines
of the Ode.: "0 you, so lately a cause of worry and fatigue, hut now an object of
tenderness and concern, may you escape those seas which race among the shin-
Ing Cy eludes,"
Edinburgh, 9 September 1767 91
ever, dislike to hear impartial corrections. Perhaps Mr. Gray may say
something to you of it. 8 The last part of my work, entitled The Journal
of a Tour to Corsica, 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 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 enquire 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 contentment. Laugh
as you please or reason as you please, I think your present way of life
very comfortable. Reading little, riding, walking, eating, drinking,
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. 9
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 tomorrow; and so soon as I am quite clear of all evil,
shall 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 acquaintance at Hunt-
er's class comes full into my mind. What a crowd of ideas since!
Adieu,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 22 September 1767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, I ain 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 sennight. It contained Dorando.,
a long letter from your old friend, with one from his father. Pray
8 Gray wrote to Horace Walpole that it was "a dialogue between a green-goose
and a hero" (25 February 1768).
Pope's imitation of Swift, The Happy Life of a Country Parson, 11. 1-2 ("goods"
for "things").
g 2 Edinburgh, 2 2 September 1767
write to me, and if you have not received the packet make the carrier
give an account what he has done with it, for I should be vexed to
think 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 in-
jurious to the Corsicans. I shall settle that matter in my book in terms
very respectful to Sir James. 1
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 care-
less ease but with vivacity, and now and then you meet with admi-
rable little anecdotes. Lord Baltimore has had a very good opportu-
nity 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 Tnrk. a Do you, my dear Tem-
ple, 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 BOSWKLL,
[* London Chronicle*] *
THURSDAY 24 SKPTKMBKK. Extract of a letter from Civitavec-
chia, dated August 14. "The celebrated Prince Herac.lZtts of Georgia
hath sent General Paoli a present of six beautiful camels, with a letter
full of the glow and metaphor of oriental eloquence, lie concludes,
1 Temple had asked Boswell, in the omitted portion of his letter of 3 September,
how Sir James Stenarf s new book had been received,
2 Lord Baltimore continued in his supposed oriental ways, barely escaping con-
viction on a charge of abduction and rape the following year, Evidently Bos-
well knew his work only from the newspaper specimen referred to, since the book
itself does not bear out BoswelFs statements with regard to Baltimore 1 *; residence,
in Constantinople,
n Indexed as an "invention" in BoswelFs own file of The London Chronicle, now
at Yale.
Edinburgh, 24 September 1767 93
'Great Sir, while in thy zenith of glory, deign to accept the tribute of
him who is proud of being born in the same age with Paoli, and feel-
ing the most exalted admiration of his character without one spark of
envy.' "
[Received 30 September, Temple to Bos well]
Jermyn Street [London] 26 September [i 767]
You WILL BE SURPRISED, MY DEAR BOSWELL, to find me apply to
you for money, but at present I have a particular occasion for 30,
which if you can I imagine you will send me a bill upon London for
in a few posts. We set out for Mamhead Friday, the 2d of October.
Direct for me there. I shall write to you soon with regard to your
father's letter, and return it under one of Lord Lisburne's covers. My
wife desires her best compliments. Yours affectionately,
WJ.T.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 2 October 1 767
MY DEAREST FRIEND, Your letter from London relieved me
from a great deal of anxiety, both on your account and on that of the
letters, which would have made a bad appearance to strangers. How
can you let indolence occasion me so much uneasiness? Your letter
came late, night before last; it was not in my power to get 30 ready
for last night's post. You have along with this a draught for that sum.
I have sent you a copy of my Corsican Journal, which you will do
me the favour to peruse in the shades of Mamhead in the tranquillity
of your rectory, and write down on a separate sheet of paper your re-
marks and corrections^ as my Lord Hailes did. You need not take the
trouble to mark both page and line, only page. So soon as you have
finished six sheets, send me your remarks, and transmit the sheets to
Wyvill with franks addressed to me along with them so that he may
send them to me. Wyvill, I fancy, will be in Essex. I expect a letter
from him every day with his address if he is not, which I shall send to
you. His address in Essex is Rector of Black Notely, near Braintree,
Essex, You will find many various readings in my Journal; tell which
you prefer. Now, Temple, I trust you will be diligent and clever to
aid your friend, and will let me see that had your fortune made you
94 Edinburgh, 2 October 1767
a minister of state you would have been an able and expeditious one.
I allow you a day to three sheet [s]. Transmit to Wyvill six and six,
and to me your remarks. Pray be my Atticus. 4 1 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 BOSWEJJL.
[Received ? 2 October, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell ] r>
Lainshaw, Thursday |"i October i 767 |
DEAR JAMIE, I beg the favour of you to take the trouble to bring-
out a gown of mine with you. I shall write the mantua-maker to bring
it to you, but, if she neglect to do it, she is a Miss Tait who lives in
Milne's Square; so I'll be obliged to you if you'll send to her.
I am glad you propose being here so soon. I hope you intend being
at the October meeting at Ayr, as I dare say your favorite Miss Blair
will be there; and as the Duke of Gordon has convinced you he is in
earnest, I hope you will continue fixed in resolutions of following his
example. 7 I was at Pollok this week and left Mrs. Montgomcrie in
perfect health. 8
I fancy you have seen Lord Eglmton, as T met him on his way to
Edinburgh. I beg my compliments to Davy. All hero join in best
wishes to you and him. Adieu, dear Jumes, and believe me, your
affectionate cousin arid obliged
IVL MONTGOMKIUK.
Will expect you and David the beginning* of the week.
\" London Chronicle"] f)
THURSDAY 8 OCTOBKE. A correspondent writes that a threat-
ening incendiary letter has been lately sent to the author of Dorando,
Cicero's friend and correspondent,
5 For Margaret Montgomerie and the textual history of her letters to Boswell,
see Introduction, pp. xvii and xxii.
(] At tho races.
7 The Duke of Gordon was about to marry Miss Blair's cousin and friend, Jeanio
Maxwell
8 Jean Montgomerie was the daughter of Sir John Maxwell, of Pollok,
A Boswelllan "invention."
<\
Edinburgh, 8 October 1767 95
A Spanish Tale, declaring with horrid imprecations that if he does
not retract the speeches and arguments therein contained before the
appeal of a certain alarming cause, he shall be stabbed in the dark;
and that a very considerable reward has been offered for the discovery
of the author of the said letter.
[Boswell to John Johnston]
Edinburgh, 9 October 1767
MY DEAR SIR, You will wonder to find me still here. But this
unhappy distemper has been very obstinate, and as I have done so
well hitherto I have determined to finish my course of medicines in
the most complete [manner] . I am now, I may say, perfectly recov-
ered. Tomorrow I go to Sir Alexander Dick's where I shall stay till
Monday; and on Tuesday morning David and I set out for Auchin-
leck in a post-chaise, with trusty Thomas riding by us. We are to
stay a night at Bothwell Castle. I wrote to the Duchess of Douglas to
let me have a warm, orthodox room, and she with great good humour
sent me word that the warmest bed in the house was her own, to
which I should be welcome. How far this would be orthodox, your
Honour and Mr. Joseph Fergusson may judge. 1
Having said so much of myself, let me now treat of you, my
friend. A letter which I had this morning from Mr. William Hay has
thrown me into great concern. He tells me you have a new attack of
the old complaint. Does he mean that some latent poison has broken
out? Or that you have again been infected? 2 Either of the two sup-
positions is distressing. Pray take care of yourself, and let me know
by the very first post how you are.
We are unhappy mortals, no doubt. But in the present state of
society, a great part of our unhappiness is occasioned by our own vices
1 The Rev. Joseph Fergusson at one time had been tutor to the Boswell children.
He was now minister of Tundergarth, Johnston's parish.
2 Johnston had reported his "complaint" in a letter of the previous spring (24
April 1767): "My good friend, I may in confidence tell you that it is owing to
my own folly in indulging an irregular passion with a wretch full of disease. At
first, when I found myself affected, my mind was so totally unhinged that for
some days I was quite miserable, until reflection and cool philosophy brought
me back to reason more justly and to think of attending to my own recovery."
We have no further information as to the "new attack."
96 Edinburgh, 9 October 1 767
and follies. You know I am an austere philosopher in principle, and
even my practice has often been so. Could either you or I act in con-
sistency with our principles, we should not be in danger of suffering
from a malady the most dreadful which nature has ever produced,
and which has been well said is the cause of poisoning the very
sources of the human species. As far as man can be depended on, I
trust that I shall henceforth maintain such a conduct as is the best
for this life and for that which is to come. I have been busy with the
Douglas cause, and have made out the Essence of it, which I hope will
be of considerable service. The scheme which I communicated to you
will make a great noise. 3 Wishing to hear comfortable accounts of
you, I ever am, dear Sir, your affectionate friend,
JAMES BOSWKLL.
[Oath of David Boswell] 4
I, David Boswell, youngest son of the Right Honourable Alexander
Boswell, Lord of Session and Justiciary, present representative of the
family of Auchinleck, do by these presents declare that, according to
the usage of the family when any branch of it is sent forth into the
world, I have stood upon the old castle of Auchinleck and have there
solemnly promised to stand by these old walls with heart, purso and
sword, that is to say, that in whatever part of the globe my fortune
should place me, I should always be faithful to the ancient family of
3 The scheme was perhaps Boswell's intention of "editing" the letter* of Lady
Jane Dcmglas.
4 An oath which Boswell requested his brother to take on the occasion of his
leaving to become a merchant in Spain. Geoffrey Scott remarked that the oath
"illustrates, better than anything else we possess, the highly romantic attach-
ment which [Boswell] felt, and assiduously cultivated, for his feudal ancestry,
... It Is in its inspiration an eminently juvenile document, The romantically
staged scene on the crumbling walls, the seal of investiture, the chaplains
drawn from their pulpits at Auchinleck and Tunderg'arth and "appointed for the
occasion,' and the entire family of Bruces mostly juvenile gardeners pro*
claiming with one voice, at a suitable moment selected by Boswell, their fealty
to his ancient line, all this appears more like the device of a boy of fifteen
than a man of twenty-seven." On his return from Spain in t/Ho, David iuldinl a
ratification, and explained that the custom of swearing such tmths did not go
back to time immemorial but had begun with this instance*
Auchinleck, 27 October 1767 97
Auchinleck, and give a reasonable obedience to the representative
thereof. In consequence of which I was invested with a ring according
to the usage of the family. All this was done upon the nineteenth day
of October in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and
sixty-seven years, in presence of James Boswell, Esquire, my eldest
brother and heir of the family; the Reverend Mr. John Dun, minister
at Auchinleck, and the Reverend Mr. Joseph Fergusson, minister at
Tundergarth, chaplains appointed for the occasion; I departing for
Valencia in Spain, there to settle as a merchant. Also in presence of
Mr. James Bruce, overseer at Auchinleck, and Alexander, John, An-
drew, and James Bruces, his sons, all present having with one voice
wished the continuance and prosperity of the ancient family of Auch-
inleck, and that the family of Bruce might ever flourish there. In
testimony of which I now subscribe these presents, and seal them
with the seal of my investiture, they being written by the said James
Boswell, Esquire, and subscribed on the twenty-seventh day of the
said month and in the said year of our Lord. Amen.
DAVID BOSWELL,
JAMES BOSWELL, Witness.
JOHN DUN, Witness.
JOSEPH FERGUSSON, Witness. (Seal)
JAS. BRUCE, Witness.
[Received ?28 October, Temple to Boswell]
Mamhead, Monday, seven in the evening,
19 October 1767
MY DEAREST BOSWELL, I received yours of the gth instant 5 on
Friday last, but the packets only came to my hands this moment,
being sent by mistake to Lord Lisburne at Bath. His Lordship is just
arrived here and brought them with him to my great joy, for I own I
began to have my apprehensions. The bill came also safe.
You complain of your father's letter, but I think without reason.
How could you tell him "that were he anybody but your father, you
could live in friendship with him and with satisfaction"; and "that
you never will concern yourself with country business till he is dead."
5 Not recovered.
98 Auchinleck, 28 October 1767
Surely strange declarations from a son to a father, and very unbecom-
ing and undutiful from such a child to such a parent. But you will
take your own way; I find all I can say is in vain; I shall therefore
interfere no farther, but leave you to your own inventions. Allow me,
however, to assure you of one thing, that if any open rupture happens
between you, the son alone will be blamed and will repent it as long
as he lives. Undoubtedly there is some severe humour in the letter,
but is there no foundation for it? And notwithstanding its severity, is
it not full of the tenderest affection and regard? Indeed, my dear
Boswell, if you do not endeavour in everything to please such a father,
I can never think so well of you as I have done.
I will read your Journal with all possible care, but do not confine
me to days. When I have finished a packet, I will dispatch it and the
observations as you direct. I would fain hope that this book will do
you some credit and make it remembered a century hence, that there
was one James Boswell. I fancy you expect at least to be named with
a Stanyan and a Molesworth. 6
How can you expect to hear from the Princess? Does not she hope
every day to see you at Adamtown? But I forgot myself; you arc now
at Auchinleck, and have you been to wait on her; and does she look as
well, and did she receive you with as much ease as formerly? I trust
not. Were there no blushings, nor hesitation, nor eyes afraid to meet?
And did not your heart beat, my friend, and were there no tremors
and anxieties on your side? Alas! my Boswell, where those symptoms
are wanting, respect and esteem may inhabit, but the god of love will
be sought for in vain. If she still deems you worthy of that honour,
pray make my best respects to her and to Mrs. Blair, and say with
what pleasure I shall ever remember the polite and friendly recep-
tion they gave me at Adamtown. When I return, I trust I shall salute
her mistress of, though not a more sweet, yet a more princely seat.
And now, Boswell, you are at the retirement of your ancestors; lei
me beg of you to please your father a little and show some curiosity
about flowering shrubs, trees, and the manner of laying out ground
with some sort of taste. Let honest James Bruce and you persuade my
Lord to cut down the row of trees that spoils the meadow, and not to
make the wings to the house little bandboxes, but in proportion to the
6 Abraham Stanyan, a diplomat, wrote An Account of Sztntzerland, Robert
Molesworth, first Viscount Molesworth, wrote An Account of Denmark*
Auchinleck, 28 October 1 767 99
body of the building; otherwise, tell his Lordship from me that the
whole will look like a giant with the arms of a dwarf. Most affection-
ately yours,
WJ.T.
My wife is even happy in my hovel. She begs her kind compli-
ments to you.
[Received ?3i October, David Boswell to Boswell]
Glasgow, 30 October 1767
DEAR JAMES, This is wrote at a place which I shall ever hold in
contempt as being filled with a set of unmannerly, low-bred, narrow-
minded wretches; the place itself, however, is really pretty, and were
the present inhabitants taken out and drowned in the ocean, and
others with generous souls put in their stead, it would be an honour
to Scotland. I arrived here yesterday about three o'clock. My jaunt
since I left you has been really very agreeable. I dined with Mrs.
Wilson at Kilmarnock, where I had much respect shown me, and I
thought by my behaviour I merited it; worthy Mr. Joseph was quite
the same man, had his own little jokes about matrimony and was very
happy. He never knows what it is to make any alteration in his be-
haviour; I verily believe that if he was in the presence of General
Paoli he would not be ten minutes there before he would be saying,
"General, can you recommend us to a goud wife."
I arrived at Lainshaw before it grew dark; was exceedingly well
received. I have not better friends in the world than the Lainshaw
family; they are not such friends, however, as you would wish me to
have, for the Captain and Mrs. Cuninghame said they thought my
father should give me 5000 patrimony. We talked a good deal about
you; I related to them particularly how my father used you, and they
owned it was a difficult task for you to live with him. My father has
great confidence in Mrs, Cuninghame, and lets her into all his se-
crets; she often speaks to him about the strange way he lives in, and
of the bad way in which he treats his children. She is to speak boldly
to him next time she sees him, and I hope it will produce some good
effect, for I must say I should be sorry you was to live separate from
him; for although he seems to take little satisfaction in his sons when
they are with him, yet when they are absent he wishes constantly for
ioo Auchinleck, 31 October 1767
them and thinks their presence would enliven him. This, I well re-
member, was the case before you came from abroad, and yet how
soon after your arrival did he grow displeased with you.
I left Lainshaw yesterday morning. I really appeared during my
stay there a sensible, well-behaved young man. Mrs. Cuninghame
was brought to bed while I was there of a daughter. She was, however,
so well that I sat with her yesterday morning half an hour, and had
much conversation about our family. My father had mentioned your
illness to her, and exclaimed against it, and do you know that she ex-
cused you by telling him that what occasioned it was now become
quite common. . . .
I hope to hear from you soon. Make my best respects to my father,
and my compliments to the worthy overseer. I ever am, with regard,
your affectionate brother and friend,
DAVID BOSWELL.
[Boswell to Temple]
Adamtown, 5 November 1767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, The pleasure of your countenance on read-
ing the date of this letter is before me at this moment. I imagine it
cannot be less than I felt glowing in my eyes when I received the last
of your letters with the elegant and, I am fully persuaded, sincere
commendations of my Corsican Journal. 7 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 pres-
ent. You must know that Miss Blair's silence, which I mentioned to
you, was a silence notwithstanding of my having written three letters
to her and (here supper interrupted me; the rest is written in my own
room, the same where you slept) and 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 Auchinlcck
and wished her joy, <&c. B She answered me with the same ease as ever,
that I had no occasion, I then wrote her a strange sultanic letter, very
7 Not recovered.
8 Boswell thought that the Nabob was pressing his suit successfully.
Adamtown, 5 November 1767 101
cool 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 has 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 tomorrow morning. If she can still
remain indifferent as to what has given me much pain, she is not
the woman I thought her; and from tomorrow morning shall I be
severed from her as a lover. I shall just bring myself (I hope) to a
good, easy tranquillity. If she feels as I wish her to do, I shall adore
her while my blood is warm. You shall hear fully from AuchinlecL
We have talked a great deal of you. She has made me laugh heart-
ily 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 wig, a man something like Mr. Whitefield. 9 Upon honour, she
said so. But she and Mrs. Blair were quite charmed with the young
parson with his neat black periwig, and his polite address. They send
you a thousand compliments. With my best compliments to Mrs.
Temple, I am ever yours,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[Boswell to Temple]
Auchinleck, Sunday, 8 November 1 767
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. Yester-
day I was extremely uneasy. That I might give her a fair opportunity
I sent her a letter, of which I enclose you a copy. 1 Could the proud
Boswell say more than you will see there? In the evening I got her
answer. It was written with an art and an indifference astonishing
9 George Whitefield, the famous Methodist preacher.
1 The enclosures mentioned in this letter have not been recovered.
102 Auchinleck, 8 November 1767
from so young a lady. "I have not yet found out that I was to blame.
If you have been uneasy upon 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
several 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 tomorrow morning. Wish me joy, my good friend, of hav-
ing 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 neigh-
bour who came to Auchinleck last night told me that he had heard
three people at Ayr agree in abusing her as a d ned 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 man-
ner and shall never say a word against her but to you. After this, I
shall be upon my guard against ever indulging the least fondness for
a Scots lass. I am a soul of a more southern frame. I may perhaps be
fortunate enough to find an Englishwoman who will be sensible of
my merit, and will study to please my singular humour. By what you
write of Mrs. Temple I wish I had such a wife, though indeed your
temper is so much better than mine that perhaps she and I would
have quarrelled before this time, had we been married when you was.
Love is a perfect fever of the mind. I question if any man has been
more tormented with it than myself. Even at this moment as I write,
my heart is torn by vexing thoughts of this fine Princess of ours. But
1 may take comfort, since I have so often recovered. Think of the gar-
dener's daughter. Think of Mrs, D- .. By the by, the latter shared
in my late misfortune, but she is quite well again; and in a fortnight
hence I expect a young friend, who if a male is to be George Keith
after my good Lord Marischal, who has accepted of being his name-
father. 2
2 Lord Marischal wrote to Boswell on 12 September 1767: "Bonny wark, Colonel,
getting the lassies wi' bairns, and worse to yoursel. . . , What's done is done;
get well; take care of Keith Boswell, who in time I hope shall become a nabob."
Auchinleck, 8 November 1 767 103
You are too hard upon me in judging of the differences between
father and son. I 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,
u Auchinleck will be well taken care of while you live, and you may
be assured that it shall not be neglected after 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 tempers which
occasions our differences.
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 conversations 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'm 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.
[Boswell to Temple]
Strathaven, 9 November 176/ 3
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 few lines. Upon my soul, the
madness of which I have a strong degree in my composition is at pres-
ent so heightened by love that I am absolutely deprived of judgment.
How eould 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
3 See 20 March 1767. Boswell is on his way back to Edinburgh for the opening
of the Winter Session of the courts (12 November to 12 March),
1 04 Strathaven, 9 November 1 767
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. I 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 affections to fix on such a
man!"
She has defended herself very well in refusing me the lock. I shall
get it from her at Edinburgh. my friend, be watchful over me in
this precious period. If she does not write to me she is certainly un-
feeling, 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 know not what
is in store. Do you think it possible that she can have any scheme of
marrying another? I will not suspect her.
Your remarks are of great service to me. I am glad you show my
Journal to Lord Lisburne. But I must have my great preceptor Mr.
Johnson introduced. Lord Hailes has approved of it. 4
Temple, I wish to be at last an uniform, pretty man. I am aston-
ishingly so already; but I wish to be a man who deserves Miss Blair.
(By the by, your expression, "Be perpetually with Miss Blair," is fine.
It made me more affectionate towards you than ever. ) I am always
for fixing some period for my perfection as far as possible. Let it be
when my Account of Corsica is published. I shall then have a char-
acter which I must support. I will swear like an ancient disciple of
Pythagoras to observe silence. I will be grave and reserved, though
cheerful and communicative of what is verum atque decens? One
4 Boswell had somewhat gratuitously brought Johnson into his Journal of a Tour
to Corsica by relating how he had discussed him with Paoli. See Boswell on the
Grand Tour: Italy, Corsica, and France, 22-27 October 1765.
5 "Right and seemly" (Horace, Epistles, I. i. 11).
Strathaven, 9 November 1767 105
great fault of mine is talking at random. I will guard against it. My
feudal signors are printed off in the Account. 6 Adieu, my best friend.
I thank God for the comfort of such a friend. Ever yours,
J.B.
[Received c. 2 December, Temple to Boswell]
Mamhead, 22 November 1767
MY DEAR BOSWELL, I received your two packets today, and am
now convinced that you are really in love with Miss Blair. Your anx-
iety, your perpetual change of resolution, your desiring yet not being
able to break your fetters, are too certain proofs of the dominion of the
Princess over your heart. As to her Highness, did I not suspect her
mother I should with you accuse her of artifice. But, indeed, consider-
ing your behaviour, I think she only treats you in the manner you
deserve. The defence you make for her is a very good one, and severe
enough upon yourself. 7 Yet, after all, I must confess I am not alto-
gether pleased with your mistress's indifference. Did she really love
you, could she act with such prudence and caution? my dear friend!
be upon your guard, consider what you are about, and penetrate and
explore her very soul before you surrender yourself irretrievably to
her charms. Know that she loves yourself: that she loves and esteems
you for those qualities for which I love and esteem you, not for your
fine house, your estate, and your hopes. Converse with her on every
subject, draw forth and examine her principles, her ideas, her notions
of retirement and dissipation, of friendship, of pleasure, of domestic
happiness, of society, of her fellow creatures, and all this with such
address that she may not be aware of your intention, but be surprised
in a manner into a confession of her real sentiments. When you have
done this you will have done all that man can do; yet such is the dis-
simulation of the sex that you may still be deceived, and instead of an
angel, wake with a serpent in your arms. Yet there [are] many good
women, and I trust you will not be less fortunate than myself.
I wish our future George Keith may not bring into the world with
him the marks of his father's irregularities! I need not desire you to
That is, Foulis had printed through Boswell's remarks on the feudal organiza-
tion of Corsica, or about two-fifths of the book.
7 Two and a half lines are deleted here, presumably by Temple.
106 Edinburgh., 2 December 1767
take care of his mother, but, for God's sake, when she is quite recov-
ered break off all connection with her and see her no more. Surely she
was not with child when she first told you so: artful baggage! she
trusted to her good fortune. I would immediately take the child from
her and send it to honest James Bruce to be brought up in the coun-
try. . . .
I was much entertained with your letter from Adamtown. I
thought I saw you writing, Mrs. Blair sitting by the fireside, and the
Princess walking about the room, interrupting you every now and
then. Your pen in your hand, with eyes that speak what no language
can express you heard her with ecstasy and unwillingly resumed your
letter. After supper, she wished you a good night with a sweetness and
expression that sent you to bed in a fever. I followed you up the stone
staircase, I saw the unpainted room, I heard you invoke the goddess
of your adoration, I pitied the poor pillow you squeezed so unmerci-
fully, and then I left you asleep. Adieu, adieu, dearest Boswell.
W. J . TEMPLE.
My wife commends herself to you.
[Received ?8 December, Pringle to Boswell]
London, 4 December 1 767
DEAR SIR, By this time you will probably have heard that I
have been abroad once more, for my health, and that it is not long
since I returned. This will partly apologize for my long silence, after
having received so obliging a letter from you, and one too that made
a demand upon me for speedy advice. . . .
I should have the more regretted and apologized for my unman-
nerly silence, had I been persuaded that I could have influenced your
judgment with regard to most of those articles which were the subject
of your letter. Not that I consider you as more wilful or tenacious to
your own opinion than others are, in general; but because the deter-
mination was to be about such things as a man, after asking the opin-
ion of twenty friends, will either do or omit doing just as if he had no
friends at all. I will therefore not pretend to give you my advice, but
I will amuse you with my opinion. In the first place (as I am assured
by Mr. Forbes that you have got entirely free from your disorder) , I
Edinburgh, 8 December 1767 107
should think Miss Blair would be a very proper match if she has all
those good qualities which you mention, and which I am the more
inclined to believe she has^ as you seem not to be blinded by love when
you recite her good qualities, and especially as you are likely to have
your father's approbation. How far you yourself are qualified for en-
tering into the holy bonds and fitted for Miss Blair is another ques-
tion, notwithstanding that point about which you were doubtful was
settled fully to my satisfaction by Mr. Forbes. I should hope that
principles of honour as well as prudence would engage you to keep
those solemn vows, which too many make too lightly of.
I was amused, as I have been before on the like occasion, with your
confidence about your success. I have commonly observed that vanity
is for the most part punished by mortifying the person in the very
thing in which he most prides himself; and, upon that principle, I
could lay a bet that in this very affair you will meet with a disappoint-
ment. But we shall see.
You have had, it seems, too much success upon less honourable
terms with a weak one of the sex. I hope you have as sincerely re-
pented of that action, as you must have done of that act which
brought you into the condition in which Mr. Forbes saw you. If you
have not repented, and with great compunction too, be assured that
your misfortunes are not at an end, and that Providence for your
amendment will not cease to chastise you till you cry peccavi. Is it
nothing to render ashamed and unhappy for life a poor silly creature
whom you have catched off her guard? The damage is irreparable,
but since the thing is done you ought to make amends as much as you
can by money. In the first place, I hope you will apply that sum
which you tell me you are to receive for the copy of your book. Not
that I approve of that merchandise, but since you have made the bar-
gain I take the liberty to tell you what my opinion is with regard to
the disposal of the money,
I have always,, you well know, used great freedom with you, not
only when you have asked my opinion, but likewise whenever you
afforded me matter to form opinions relating to your conduct and
character. On the occasion of the book I must therefore tell you that,
since contrary to my advice you have written it and will publish it,
you have done, I am afraid, rather ungenteelly in selling the copy
io8 Edinburgh, 8 December 1767
(before the publication) to a bookseller. This has too much the air of
writing for gain, I mean for money, which is below a gentleman. I
know this was not your only motive; nay, I will do you the justice as
to say that I believe that this circumstance did not at first enter into
the consideration at all, but you ought to have avoided the appearance
of it. I shall keep your secret, but will your bookseller do it; or have
you done it yourself? Were I the Heiress of Adamtown, be assured I
should never listen to a lover who had been capable of so doing. See
the consequences: your bookseller, in order to indemnify himself,
must puff your work with a pompous title-page, and advertisements
in the newspapers. He must tell that you give not only the political
but the natural history of that Island. Now surely you could never
call yourself a naturalist; or if you had had any genius or education
for that branch of science, had you time to make observations that
could claim an article in such a book? If it be not too late, I would ad-
vise you to change that at least. You see I take great liberties.
I shall conclude with telling you that with regard to separate
houses in case of marriage, your father is too reasonable not to consent-
to it. But remember that by leaving him lonely, he may be tempted to
take a companion likewise. Perhaps the best for you both would be for
each to have a good one. I am most affectionately yours,
J.P.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 1 8 December 1 767
MY DEAR TEMPLE, You have reason to blame me for a too long
silence, after having received all your friendly remarks on my Jour-
nal, and while you was incertain as to my negotiations with the Prin-
cess. I am sincerely obliged to you for your aid in polishing my Corsi-
can monument. It is now complete, and I would fain hope it will do
both the brave Islanders and myself a good deal of honour. As to the
Princess, I sent the letter which you returned. She did not write, but
bid her aunt tell me that she and I were as good friends as ever. This
did not satisfy me, and for several weeks did I strive to break my chain*
At last she came to town, and I have had a long conversation with her.
She assured me she did not believe me serious or that I was uneasy,
and that it was my own fault if ever she and I quarrelled. I in short,
Edinburgh, 18 December 1767 109
adored her, and was convinced she was not to blame. I told her that
henceforth she should entertain no doubt that I sincerely loved her
and, Temple, I ventured to seize her hand. She is really the finest
woman to me I ever saw.
I am just now going to meet her at the concert, after which I sup
with her at Lord Kames'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 mean time,
my friend, wish me joy of my present peace of mind, and make my
best compliments to the woman to whom I see you owe a great deal.
Adieu, my best friend. Ever yours,
JAMES BOSWELL.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 24 December 1767
MY DEAREST FRIEND, In my last I told you that after I had re-
solved to give up with the Princess for ever, I resolved first to see her,
and that when I did 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 Kames's. The Prin-
cess appeared distant and reserved. I could hardly believe that it was
the same woman with whom I had been quite easy the day before. I
was then uneasy.
Next evening I was at the play with them. It was Othello. I sat
close behind the Princess, and at the most affecting scenes I pressed
my hand upon her waist. She was in tears, and rather leaned to me.
The jealous Moor described my very soul. I often spoke to her of the
torment which she saw before her. Still I thought her distant, and still
I was uneasy.
On Sunday the Duchess of Gordon 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 that rny behaviour to the Princess
was such that Mrs. Blair and her daughter did not know how to
no Edinburgh, 24 December 1767
behave to me. That it was not honourable to engage a young lady's
affections while I kept myself free. In short, the good cousin persuaded
me that the Princess had formed an attachment for me, and she as-
sured me the Nabob had been refused. On Monday forenoon I waited
on Miss Blair; 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," said she, u 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 Jeanie Maxwell
(Duchess of Gordon) better than you." BOSWELL. "Very well. But do
you like no man better than me?" PRINCESS. "No." BOSWELL. "Is it
possible that you may like me better than other men?" PRINCESS. "I
don't know what is possible." (By this time I had risen and placed my-
self by her, and was in real agitation.) BOSWELL. "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?" PRINCESS. "I really don't know what you
should do." BOSWELL. "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?" PRINCESS. "Yes." BOSWELL. "And if you should
happen to love another, will you tell me immediately, and help me to
make myself easy?" PRINCESS. "Yes, I will." BOSWELL. "Well, you arc
very good" (often squeezing and kissing her fine hand, while she
looked at me with those beautiful black eyes) .
PRINCESS. "I may tell you as a cousin what I would not tell to an-
other man." BOSWELL. "You may indeed. You are very fond of Auchin-
leck; that is one good circumstance." PRINCESS. "I confess I am. I wish
I liked you as well as I do Auchinleck." BOSWELL. "I have told you
how fond I am of you. But unless you like me sincerely, I have too
much spirit to ask you to live with me, as I know that you do not like
Edinburgh, 24 December 1767 1 1 1
me. If I could have you this moment for my wife I would not." PRIN-
CESS. " I should not like to put myself in your offer, though." BOSWELL.
"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 again have any quarrel."
PRINCESS. "Never." BOSWELL. "And I may come and see you as much
as I please?" PRINCESS. "Yes."
My worthy friend, what sort of a scene was this? It was most curi-
ous. 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 per-
son; but she could 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 admired 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 endeav-
oured 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 mean-
ing of this? I drank tea with her this afternoon and sat near four hours
with her mother and her. Our conversation 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 philoso-
112 Edinburgh, 24 December 1 767
pher, 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. I have catched an-
other memorandum of vice, but a very slight one. Trust me in time
coming. I give you my word in honour, Temple. I have nothing else
to save me.
My black friend has brought me the finest little girl I ever saw. I
ha v e named it Sally. It is healthy and strong. I take the greatest care
of the mother, but shall have her no more in keeping.
I have this day received a large packet from Paoli, with a letter in
elegant Latin from the University of Corte, and also an extract of an
oration pronounced this year at the opening of the University, in
which oration I am celebrated in a manner which does me the greatest
honour. I think, Temple, I have had my full share of fame. Yet my
book is still to come, and I cannot doubt its doing me credit. Come, why
do I allow myself to be uneasy for a Scots lass? Rouse me, my friend.
Kate has not fire enough. She does not know the value of her lover. If
on her return she still remains cold, she does not deserve me. I will not
quarrel with her. She cannot help her defects. But I will break my en-
chanting fetters. Tomorrow I shall be happy with my devotions. I
shall think of you and wish to be at Mamhead. Could you assist me to
keep up my real dignity among the illiberal race of Scots lawyers?
Adieu, my dearest friend. My best compliments to your amiable
spouse.
J.B.
/? '68
FRIDAY i JANUARY. 8 Busy all day drawing replies in the For-
far elections. 9
SATURDAY 2 JANUARY. Went with my father to Arniston. By
the way talked of the antiquities and constitution of the election law
in Scotland. Found it difficult to fix my attention. But by degrees
wrought my mind into a knowledge of the subject. Was amazed at my
father's memory and patience. Well at Arniston. All old ideas had no
longer any force, but the traces of them diversified arid amused my
thoughts. At night played whist. Still had gloom, because I have
never played at it when well so as to get free of former prejudices.
About nine my father was taken ill with his old complaint. 1
Thomas went express to Edinburgh. The President showed a friendly
concern which will ever make him be regarded by me. For some hours
my father was in agony. In the view of death he gave me the best and
most affectionate advices. He spoke of Miss Blair as the woman whom
he wished I would marry. How strong was this. I was in terrible con-
cern. He said if business did not succeed with me after his death I
should retire to the country. He charged me to take care of my broth-
ers, to be a worthy man, and keep up the character of the family. I
firmly resolved to be as he wished, though in somewhat a different
taste of life. I looked my watch a hundred times. A quarter before one
Thomas arrived with the catheter. In five minutes my father was easy.
What a happy change! Went calmly to bed/It was an intense frost,
and the ground was covered with snow.
8 This Journal, written on loose sheets, is enclosed in a wrapper which Boswell
endorsed: "Journal 1768, from January i to February 27."
9 A new parliament was elected this year, and the complicated property qualifi-
cations of voters in the counties and burghs of Scotland were being contested by
the various opposing interests,
1 A suppression of urine, probably due to an enlarged prostate. The affliction
had first appeared at the time of the Ogilvy trial of 1765 when Lord Auchinleck
sat nine hours without rising from his seat (see Boswell on the Grand Tour:
Italy ^ Corsica, and France, following 30 November 1765) .
113
114 Arniston, 3 January 1768
SUNDAY 3 JANUARY. My father was quite easy. I went out for
an hour with the President in his chariot. Talked freely on the Doug-
las cause. Heard how it struck him in its various points. Saw how
foolish the suspicions against him were. Resolved to take men as I find
them. Was assured by the President that I should do well as a lawyer.
Saw no difficulties in life. Saw that all depends on our frame of mind.
Lord and Lady Hyndford were here. The day passed well. In the
evening I adored my God; I had now no doubt of the Christian revela-
tion. I was quite satisfied with my being. I hoped to be happy with
Miss Blair.
MONDAY 4 JANUARY. After breakfast, set off. My father re-
marked how foolish and wicked evil-speaking was. The President af-
forded a good instance, as so many false reports had been raised
against him as to the Douglas cause. 2 We dined at Newbattle. I experi-
enced that calm tranquillity in presence of great people for which I
have often wished and have now acquired. Much attention was paid
me. Returned to town. Supped Sir George Preston's. 3
TUESDAY 5 JANUARY. I was at home all day except calling half
an hour for Sally's mother. Felt all inclination gone and that I now
acted from principle alone.
WEDNESDAY 6 JANUARY. In all day. Matthew Dickie dined
with us. The terrible cold weather made me consider keeping warm as
almost business enough.
THURSDAY j JANUARY. Breakfast Mr. Webster's. 4 Old ideas re-
vived in an agreeable manner. When my mind was weak, ideas were
too powerful for me. I am now strong; I can discern all their qualities
but am master of them. I was formerly, in many articles of thought,
like a boy who fires a gun. He startles at the noise, and, being unable
to wield it, he can direct it to no steady point. I am now master of my
gun, and can manage it with ease. I called for Lord Leven, visited Mr.
2 For an example, see p. 171.
3 Preston's wife, Anne Cochrane, was Boswell's maternal great-aunt She had
brought up Boswell's mother, and Boswell had spent a good deal of time at the
Prestons' estate of Valleyfield as a child.
4 The Rev. Alexander Webster, D.D., was married to Mary Krskine, BoswelPs
aunt. He was a leader of the "High Flying" or fundamentalist faction of the
Church of Scotland, but is best remembered for his early work on actuarial cal-
culations. His love of a social bottle was well known.
Edinburgh, 7 January 1 768 115
George Frazer, called for Lord Dalhousie, visited Lady Crawford.
Miss Montgomerie, John and George Frazers dined.
FRIDAY 8 JANUARY. In a 11 day. Felt myself now quite free of
fancies. Was amazed to find how much happiness and misery is ideal.
Passed the evening at Mr. Moncrieffe's with the Chief Baron, 5 Miss
Ords, &c. Felt myself now quite indifferent about making a figure in
company. Am I grown dull? Or is it a calm confidence in a fixed repu-
tation?
SATURDAY Q JANUARY. Busy with election law. John Chalmer
showed me an old opinion of Duncan Forbes, and reflected how
curious it was that the opinion remained while the man was no more.
A hint such as this brings to my mind all that passed, though it would
be barren to anybody but myself. At home all day consulting and
writing law papers till six. Went and saw The Suspicious Husband
and Citizen; had my London ideas revived. Went home with Mr. Ross
and supped and drank a cheerful glass. He gave me all the history of
his marriage. 6 He put me into my old romantic frame. I wished again
for adventures, for proofs of my own address and of the generosity of
charming women. I was for breaking loose from Scots marriage. But
my elegant heiress and the old family of Auchinleck brought me back
again.
SUNDAY 10 JANUARY. In forenoon writing to Zelide, &c.
Church afternoon. Heard Heiress was to have a knight. 7 Was not so
much shocked as before. I did not indeed fully believe it. Visited
Sally's mother. Was tired of her.
MONDAY 11 JANUARY. Busy with law. Lord Chief Baron, Mr.
Moncrieffe, Lord Strichen, &c., dined.
TUESDAY 1 2 JANUARY. Went in coach with my father, visited
5 Robert Orel, Lord Chief Baron of the Court of Exchequer, a witty and hos-
pitable Englishman. For Moncrieffe, see p. 210 n.g.
6 David Ross, a well-known actor, was patentee and manager of the Edinburgh
Theatre Royal. Boswell had written a Prologue at its opening the previous De-
cember, which he himself credited with having saved the theatre in the face of
strong local opposition. Ross was married to Fanny Murray, a famous courtesan
and the main figure in Wilkes's obscene Essay on Woman. Upon his marriage.,
Ross is said to have received an allowance of 200 a year from Lord Spencer,
whose father had "debauched" her.
7 That Miss Blair was to marry Sir Alexander Gilmour. See pp. 117-118.
1 1 6 Edinburgh, 1 2 January 1 768
Mr. James Ker. Felt myself quite established. Dined Lady Alva's with
Lord Chief Baron, Miss Ords, and Mr. John Mackenzie. Was well, but
found I was ignorant and had no turn for the common affairs of life.
WEDNESDAY 13 JANUARY. Dined Mrs. Boswell's of Balmuto. 8
Found I had formed a habit there of constant jocularity, in so much
that I never said one serious word. This must be corrected; they are
good people. Relations should be regarded. In the immense multi-
plicity of human beings, the more attachments we can form, the
better. Do as we please, they are all few enough. Saw Martin's
portraits. Drank tea at Mr. Kincaid's. Mrs. Kincaid not in; just the
father and son and his governor. I appeared a formed man of learning.
THURSDAY 14 JANUARY. Was entertained to find myself again
in the Parliament House in all the hurry of business. Mr. Kincaid arid
his family dined with us.
FRIDAY 15 JANUARY. Breakfasted with Mr. William Alexan-
der- genteel people. I thought myself among strangers and not in
Edinburgh. Was busy with election causes; found the law fatigue me
greatly, and from my indolent and anxious temper I was really har-
assed with it.
SATURDAY 1 6 JANUARY. This morning I was amazed when T
thought of Mr. Lockhart, who is all the forenoon in the Parliament
House and is never hurried or fretted, and yet goes through such
multitudes of causes. 9 1 told him he was just a brownie in business. In
a few hours the work of a dozen of men is performed by him. He never
talks of himself, or complains anyhow. He said he wondered how the
story of brownies came ever to be believed. I never before saw him
aim at philosophy. It is indeed odd how the existence of a being who
actually performed work, as a brownie was said to do^ came to be be-
lieved; for it is not like imagining one sees a vision or hears a noise.
Miss Montgomerie and Doctor Boswell and I were carried out by
8 Lord Auchinleck's aunt and Claud BoswelFs mother.
9 Alexander Lockhart, Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, was considered per-
haps the most eminent lawyer practising at the Scottish bar. He was certainly
one of the most successful. Boswell described him as always ready to cry and
fond of getting his fees, and applied 2 Henry IV 9 IV. iv. 3 1-32, to him:
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day.
Prestonfield, 16 January 1768 117
worthy Sir Alexander Dick in his coach to Prestonfield. We were very
happy. I don't believe there ever existed a man more continually
amiable than Sir Alexander. Came home in his coach.
Had a consultation on the Forfar politics. In the forenoon, as we
went along in the coach, the Earl of Eglinton was at the Cross. I
jumped out, and he and I embraced most cordially. I had a strange
pleasure in showing my intimacy with his Lordship before the citizens
of Edinburgh. It is fine to be sensible of all one's various sentiments
and to analyse them. After my consultation, I went to Fortune's and
supped with Lord Eglinton, Lord Galloway, Matthew Henderson, and
several more. 1 I saw a genteel, profligate society who live like a dis-
tinct nation in Edinburgh, having constant recruits going and com-
ing. I was ill of a venereal disorder, but resolved to make myself easy
and eat and drink, though not to excess, yet freely.
About one, Lord Eglinton and I went upstairs and had a friendly
conference. I told him I loved Miss Blair much and wished to marry
her if she liked me, and I gave him all our history. He said I was right
to be honest with her; that her answers were very clever, and that it
was probable she liked me. But he said I did not show her attention
enough; that a woman had a right to be courted as much as a husband
after marriage had a right to command. That if I insisted on a woman
showing much love for me, I was certain of being taken in by any
artful girl who wanted to have a man with a good estate. That I
should tell Miss Blair, "If I have any chance, I'll do all in my power
to be agreeable. If not, I'll make myself easy as soon as possible." He
said my Yorkshire beauty 2 would not do so well, that she would be
miserable in this country; and he quoted a blunt saying of the High-
landers that "a cow fed in fine Lowland parks was unco bonny, but
turned lean and scabbed when she was turned out to the wild hills."
Up came Matthew Henderson and swore he believed Sir Alexander
1 Fortune's was the most fashionable Edinburgh tavern of the day. Matthew
Henderson was a convivial antiquary, and later a friend of Burns, who said of
him after his death: U 0f all mankind I ever knew, he was one of the first for a
nice sense of honour, a generous contempt of the adventitious distinctions of
men, and sterling though somewhat outre wit" (Letters of Robert Burns, ed. J.
De Lancey Ferguson, 1931, ii. 33). Boswell once described Lord Galloway as a
quick, spirited, pleasure-loving politician.
2 Miss Bosville.
1 1 8 Edinburgh, 1 6 January 1 768
Gilmour was to have the Heiress. My Lord advised me to write to her
and know as to this. Such admirable advice did I get from a man of
great genius who knows the world perfectly. He talked to me of my
neutrality in the Ayrshire elections. I felt I was wrong. I was now
quite free of hypochondria. Walking home after convoying my Lord
to the Bow, I met a girl. Like a madman I would try the experiment of
cooling myself when ill. What more mischief may it not bring!
SUNDAY 17 JANUARY. In all forenoon. At dinner my father
was out of humour because I had been so late abroad. I bore with him
quite calmly. At five met at Mr. Macqueen's 3 with Messieurs Rae,
Alexander Murray, and Armstrong, as counsel for Raybould, the
forger, as I allow myself to consult on criminal business on Sundays.
Went to bed at nine that I might be up early next morning.
MONDAY 18 JANUARY. Rose at three. Wrote a reply in the For-
far politics, and prepared a charge to the jury for Raybould. Went to
the Justiciary Court at nine. Dull reading of the decreet of the Court
of Session for many hours. 4 At two I went home, dined and drank a
3 Robert Macqueen, a coarse, vigorous, gifted lawyer, well known for his Scots
dialect and accent. Later a judge in the Courts of Session and Justiciary with the
style of Lord Braxfield, he was notorious for his severity in the sedition trials
of the 17905. He is supposedly the model for the judge in R. L. Stevenson's Weir
of Hermiston.
4 John Raybould, who seems to have been an Englishman living in New
Merchiston, Stirlingshire, had already been found guilty by the Court of Session
of forging bank-notes. If the indictment was true (as there seems no reason to
doubt), he had hired an engraver in Birmingham to engrave a copper plate
duplicating a twenty-shilling note of the Thistle Banking Company, Glasgow,
and had caused five hundred impressions to be struck from this plate. Having
been unable to hire the engraver to fill in with a pen dates, numbers, and sub-
scriptions for the notes, he brought them back to Scotland and filled in some him-
self and got other persons to fill in others. At least fifty notes were completed in
this fashion, and at least twenty-two were put in circulation. Raybould's counsel
had caused one postponement by demanding proof that he was the same as the
person who had been tried by the Court of Session; on this day they seem to have
limited their efforts to an attempt to establish that he did not himself fill in the
signatures on some of the forged notes. The case raised an important and inter-
esting legal point on which the authorities were disagreed: was the jury in the
Court of Justiciary bound to accept the finding of the Court of Session, or could it
acquit if it thought the prisoner in fact not guilty? Raybotild's counsel argued
for the latter view, and the judges of the Court of Justiciary upheld them. It
made no difference, for the jury returned a unanimous verdict of guilty, Boswell
Edinburgh, 1 8 January 1768 119
glass or two of malaga, and wrote another reply. Returned to the court.
The Solicitor 5 charged the jury for the Crown. I was very uneasy and
frightened. I however began, and was soon warm and in spirits, and
recollected all my arguments. I really spoke well for above half an
hour. I saw my imperfections, and hoped in time to make a real good
speaker. I felt sound ambition and clear faculties. At eight went to
Crosbie's 6 and had tea and a consultation with Mr. James Hay, Writer
to the Signet. He revived in my mind worthy Scots family ideas. What
a variety do I enjoy by observation! I went to bed in good time.
[Received ? 1 8 January, Temple to Boswell]
Mamhead, 8 January 1 768
MY DEAR BOSWELL, I have read your letter with some care, and
must confess am rather at a loss what to think of Miss Blair's conduct.
Though she chooses to coquet it with you a little, yet she certainly
may love you, and perhaps the dance she seems to intend leading you
is no more than you deserve, considering the unaccountable manner
in which you have behaved to her. For what woman can bear to see a
man so long an admirer professedly, and yet at the same time so cau-
tiously insensible as always to guard against the least advance to any
engagement. At last, indeed, she finds you are caught and is resolved
to punish you for your former temerity. Alas! the proud Boswell, to
what humiliations, to what entreaties, to what pardons, to what in-
sults do I not see him destined! The great Baron, the friend of Rous-
seau and Voltaire, the companion of Paoli, the author of that immortal
work, the Account of Corsica, is dwindled into a whining, fawning
lover, the slave of a fair hand and a pair of black eyes.
does not seem to have been much involved emotionally in this case, partly be-
cause Raybould was unquestionably guilty, partly because he was "a genteel
man" (see above, 11 February 1767).
5 Henry Dundas.
6 Andrew Crosbie, Roswell's fellow advocate in the John Reid trial, was noted
for his learning and the originality of Ms thinking and arguments. He pleased
Dr. Johnson on one occasion by discoursing on alchemy. In later life he was
ruined in a disastrous banking venture, and died in great poverty. Though Scott
denied using Mm as a model, he was taken for the original of Counsellor
Pleydell in Guy Mannering.
1 2O Edinburgh, 1 8 January 1 768
Jesting apart, my dear friend, I dare not venture to say whether
Miss Blair loves you or no. As she now has reason to think that you
really love her, why does she not ingenuously confess that your flame
is reciprocal? But you have told her your character; you have told her
that you are inconstant, fickle, and jealous, and never sure of yourself
for two days together. Has she not reason then to examine every step
that she takes, lest imagining she is walking upon flowers she meets
with nothing under foot but thorns and poison? But is such caution
consistent with tenderness, with love, with genuine passion? Un-
doubtedly it is, my dear Boswell; the romance of knight-errantry is no
more, and good folks nowadays agree to run the race of life together
because it is convenient; not because they love, but because they do
not hate. Does not this shock the sensibility of your enthusiastic soul?
However, in general, it is but too true, and if you want a wife upon
more refined conditions, I fear you must go seek her in the wilds of
America, or in that stage of society in which mankind have not yet
learnt to prefer paltry conveniences and gilded trifles to the genuine
feelings of nature and passion.
I am much pleased with her being so amiably affected at Othello;
for to feel even for imaginary distresses is the sign of a tender and
generous heart. But I am not fond of the mediation of her Glasgow
cousin. It looks artful. However, considering your strange conduct,
perhaps it was necessary and probably more owing to the prudence of
a wary mother than to anything else. Upon the whole, I dare say Miss
Blair is a good girl. When she returns, therefore, continue your assi-
duity and professions of eternal love; if you cannot melt her that way.,
then affect a careless indifference, which, if there is the least spark of
love in her breast, will certainly blow it into a flame; at any rate you
must not lose her, for she surely is destined by fate to continue the
race of the lords of Auchinleck. . . .
My wife desires her kind remembrances to you. She seems in a fair
way to bring me a boy. Adieu, my dear friend,
WJ.T.
TUESDAY 19 JANUARY, Was at the anniversary meeting of the
Faculty of Advocates. 7 Had the true old sensations, and felt myself
7 "Anniversary" seems simply to mean "annual." Its purpose was the election of
officers and committees.
Edinburgh, 1 9 January 1768 121
Mr. James Boswell, comfortable and secure. Recollected how formerly
I should have been wretched with a life so void of vivid enjoyment,
but now had force of mind enough to be content. At Clerihue's we
were very merry. The Dean after many ladies had been drank called
out, "Here is a toast: a young lady just in her teens Miss Corsica.
Give her a gentleman!" All called out, "Paoli!" I drank too much. I
went to a close in the Luckenbooths to seek a girl whom I had once
seen in the street. I found a natural daughter of the late Lord (Kin-
naird), 8 a fine lass. I stayed an hour and a half with her and drank
malaga and was most amorous-, being so well that no infection re-
mained. I felt now that the indifference of the Heiress had cured me,
and I was indifferent as to her. I was so happy with Jeany Kinnaird
that I very philosophically reasoned that there was to me so much
virtue mixed with licentious love that perhaps I might be privileged.
For it made me humane, polite, generous. But then lawful love with a
woman I really like would make me still better. I forgot the risk I run
with this girl. She looked so healthy and so honest I had no fears.
WEDNESDAY 2O JANUARY. Mr. George Frazer and Mr. Orme
drank tea and claret with me, consulting on a plan for Lochmaben
manse.
THURSDAY 21 JANUARY. Lords Stonefield and Barjarg, Walter
Campbell, George Cockburn, &c., dined. I drank tea with Johnston.
Supped with Dempster at Peter Ramsay's. 9 Had a most pleasant eve-
ning.
FRIDAY 22 JANUARY. My father and I dined at Lord Coals-
ton's. I had written to Miss Blair to tell me if she was going to be
married to Sir Alexander Gilmour, and if she was disengaged and did
not write me so I should upon honour consider it to be the same thing
as if she was engaged. No answer had come yet, so I began to exert all
my spirit to be free. I drank tea at Mrs. Hamilton of Bangour's, and
made my peace for not having visited her since I came home.
SATURDAY 23 JANUARY, My father and I dined at Lord Gallo-
way's. Old ideas of true people of quality revived. I then went to the
play, to Mrs. Hamilton's box. It was Venice Preserved: Jaffier, Ross;
Pierre, Sowdon; I relished it much. The Heiress began to lose her do-
8 There is a hole in the manuscript here, but Boswell supplies the name below.
9 An inn at the bottom of St. Mary's Wynd. For Dempster, see p. 173 72.5.
122 Edinburgh, 23 January 1 768
minion over me. I supped at Ross's after the play. Sowdon was there
and Cullen, &c. Felt myself now calm and improved, as I used to wish.
SUNDAY 24 JANUARY. In all forenoon. Afternoon, church;
then tea, Marchioness Dowager of Lothian. Miss BothwelL, a sister of
the late Lord Holyroodhouse, was there. We had good solid conversa-
tion on the advantages of the Christian religion. Then drank coffee at
the Marquess of Lothian's. Found myself as in a London family of
fashion. Then visited Lady Crawford, a most amiable woman. Sir
John Cathcart and lady there.
MONDAY 25 JANUARY. In all day. M. Dupont drank tea with
me; 10 had two consultations. Supped Mrs. Hamilton of Bangour's, an
Edinburgh evening. Found I was fit for any company. Before my Ac-
count of Corsica came out, I was desirous to have all my visits paid, as
I thenceforward intended if possible to maintain a propriety and
strictness of manners.
TUESDAY 26 JANUARY. All the evening was employed in writ-
ing to Paoli, Mr. Burnaby, &c., before the great era of the publication
of my book. I sat up till past two.
WEDNESDAY 2 7 JANUARY. My father and Claud and I dined
at Lord Barjarg's. It was just a family dinner. I felt myself palled with
insipidity, so high is my taste of society grown. I drank tea at Mrs.
Hunter's of Polmood, and revived Sommelsdyck and Auchinleck
ideas. 1 I then came home and wrote papers busily till seven. Then had
a consultation at the Hon. Alexander Gordon's. Then supped Mrs.
Cockburn's. 2 A great company there. Felt myself quite easy, but still
subject to fall in love with the woman next me at table. I have from
nature a feverish constitution which time has moderated and will at
last cure. Mrs. Cockburn said a man much versant in love was not so
valuable. I maintained he was, for a hack, if not lamed or too much
worn down, is the cleverest horse when put on good pasture.
THURSDAY 28 JANUARY. My father was confined with a se-
10 The Rev. Pierre Loumeau Dupont was minister of the Huguenot congregation
in Edinburgh.
1 Mrs. Hunter, like Boswell, had a Sommelsdyck ancestor, which explains the
association.
2 Alicia Cockburn was a poetess who in person somewhat resembled Queen
Elizabeth. Her supper parties were well known for the distinguished circle she
gathered. Burns admired her lyrics, and Scott her conversation.
Edinburgh, 28 January 1768 123
vere cold. I saw his great worth and value to me, when I was reminded
of the danger of losing him. I resolved to act towards him in such a
way as to make his life comfortable, and give me the consolation after
he is gone that I have done my duty, and may hope for the same
attention from my son. I was not abroad but at the Parliament House
and dining at Lord President's.
FRIDAY 29 JANUARY, Had Hallglenmuir and Knockroon to
dine. Went after supper to Bailie Hunter's, and sat a while with Lady
Crawford and a good many more company. Sat too late. I resolved to
be more regular, as I really had a constant fever and sweating every
morning.
SATURDAY 30 JANUARY. I stayed in all forenoon writing re-
plies for Hardriggs, in the division of Dornock commonty. Dined John
Chalmer's with Hallglenmuir, James Neill, Knockroon, &c.
SUNDAY 31 JANUARY. Forenoon at church. Dined Mr. Mon-
crieffe's with Prebendary Douglas and lady, Lady and Miss Eden,
all from Durham, who wished much to see the author of The Essence
of the Douglas Cause. Lord John Murray was there. All was elegant
and really agreeable. At night went to Sally's mother and renewed
gallantry.
MONDAY i FEBRUARY. Was busy all day with law till five,
when I drank tea at Miss Montgomerie's. At seven consulted at
Solicitor's.
TUESDAY 2 FEBRUARY. At seven met Mr. Alexander Orme and
Holmains, George Frazer, William Hay, and Jamie Baillie at Cleri-
hue's at a treat given by the heritors of Lochmaben. Mr. Ross had
come up to me and asked me to sup with him; so I went and found
Sir Johns Cathcart and Whitefoord. We were very merry and pleas-
ant. I drank a great deal, though I was not well yet. Between two and
three I went to Sally's mother's and renewed again. What a life do I
lead!
WEDNESDAY 3 FEBRUARY. I awaked so ill I could hardly rise,
and all forenoon I was quite out of order and feverish after my
debauchery. I felt myself a very rake as I pleaded a cause before Lord
Monboddo.
THURSDAY 4 FEBRUARY. I was busy and regular.
FRIDAY 5 FEBRUARY. I supped at Lord Monboddo's with Lords
1 24 Edinburgh, 5 February 1 768
Coalston and Kennet, Mrs. Murray of Stormont, &c. I was quite easy.
I saw lords of session in a quite different light from what I have done
by looking only at awful judges. Claret fevered me, and I again went
to Sally's mother and renewed.
SATURDAY 6 FEBRUARY. Breakfasted at the President's. Was
too late for a cause before Lord Monboddo. Determined to confine
myself to the Parliament House all the forenoon. Considered the law
is my profession, my occupation in life. Saw it not to be such a
mystery as I apprehended.
SUNDAY 7 FEBRUARY. Church forenoon. Heard Mr. Butter in
St. Paul's Chapel, 3 afternoon. Drank tea with Mrs. Montgomerie-
Cuninghame. Then visited Lady Maxwell. Was quite cheerful and
well. Mr. Fullarton (the Nabob) came in. Miss Blair was now arrived.
He proposed we should go and visit her. We went. She was reserved
and distant. I saw plainly all was over. Yet I could not be quite
certain. Fullarton and I came away together. I liked the rnan. I asked
him freely how he was. We owned candidly to each other that we
were both for Miss Blair. I insisted that he and I should not part that
night. I carried him to sup at Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame's
and then we adjourned to Clerihue's. I opened the Nabob's mind, and
he and I gave each other a fair recital of all that we hoped from the
Heiress. It was agreed I had her heart once, and perhaps still, if she
was not engaged to Sir Alexander Gilmour. "Come," said I, u we shall
be at our wits' end. If you'll ask her tomorrow, upon honour I'll ask
her." We shook hands and wished all happiness to him who should
succeed. Never was there a more curious scene. At two in the morning
I went to Sally's mother, and, being flushed with claret, renewed my
love.
MONDAY 8 FEBRUARY. Between nine and ten went to Miss
Blair. "Come, before they come in, are you engaged or no?" She
seemed reserved. I said, "You know I am much in love with you, and,
if you are not engaged, I would take a good deal of trouble to make
3 Not "Old St. Paul's," the Scots Episcopal church whose present beautiful struc-
ture on the east side of Carrubber's Close is believed to cover the site of its
eighteenth-century chapel, but a "qualified" congregation meeting at the foot
of the close in the luckless theatre which Allan Ramsay had opened in 1737, only
to have it promptly shut by the authorities.
Edinburgh, 8 February 1768 125
myself agreeable to you." She said, "You need not take the trouble.
Now you must not be angry with me." "Indeed no," said I. u But is it
really so? Say upon your word, upon honour." She did so. I therefore
was satisfied. My spirit was such that, though I felt some regret, I
appeared quite easy and gay. I made her give me breakfast, and with
true philosophy I put my mind in a proper frame. It was agreed that
we were not to ask her if she was engaged. She gave me a lecture on
my conduct towards her, in talking without reserve. At twelve the
Nabob was with her, and she treated him with the greatest coldness.
He and I met at the Cross at two and joked and laughed with all our
acquaintance. I did the Nabob much good, for I relieved him from
serious love by my vivacity. I have one of the most singular minds
ever was formed.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 8 February 1 768
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 Parliament
for the county of Midlothian, 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, 4 1000 a year; in
short, a noble match, though a man of expense and obliged to lead
a London life. After the fair agreement between her and me which
I gave you fully in my last, I had a title to know the truth. I wrote to
her seriously, and told her that 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 last engaged. I endeavoured to laugh
off my passion and I got Sir Alexander Gilmour to frank a 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
4 A judicial and financial department of the King's Household.
126 Edinburgh, 8 February 1 768
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 ex-
ceedingly well, though with a reserve more than ordinary. When we
left her, we both exclaimed, "Upon my soul, a fine woman." I 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 Blair, and 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 as-
siduous in attending Miss Blair, but she never gave him the least en-
couragement, and he declared he was convinced she loved me as
much as a woman could love a man. With equal honesty I told him all
that has passed between her and me, and your observation on the
wary mother. "What!" 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
Blair's connections were in an absolute confederacy to lay hold of
every man who has a 1000 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 a question?" &c. I said that she knew very well I was much
Edinburgh, 8 February 1 768 127
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, u have I no chance?" "No," said she. I
asked her to say so upon her word and upon honour. She fairly re-
peated 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."
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 cer-
tainly 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 S 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, 6
The Heiress showed me to the door,
And said she'd have the Knight, Sir Sawney.
5 That is, with a constantly recurring rhyme-word.
6 Sir Jonathan Trelawny, a militant bishop of the late seventeenth and early
eighteenth centuries, was tried for seditious libel under James II. It is to him
that the song refers:
And shall Trelawny die?
Then twenty thousand Cornishmen will Inow the reason why.
128 Edinburgh, 8 February 1 768
She told me with a scornful look
I was as ugly as a tawny; 7
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 be-
fore. 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 wife, either here or in
England, I intend to be in London in March. My address will be at
Mr. Billy's, bookseller. But I expect to hear from you before I set out,
which will not be till the 14 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.
11 February. 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.
TUESDAY 9 FEBRUARY. 8 Mr. Claud and I visited the Heiress.
She seemed very ordinary today. My Lord President and his lady,
Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuningharne, Professor Stevenson, &c., dined.
Mrs. Dundas and I danced at a private ball at Fortune's, a very good
company. The Nabob was there, and I made him talk easily and be
quite cheerful After supper I gave for my toast, "May we bear our
7 Mulatto.
8 Boswell, bringing up his Journal at a later date, began to misnumber the days
here, calling this 2 February, until he came to his supposed 8 February (really
the i5th) when his memory naturally failed him. He then wrote, "I cannot say
what I did" for this day, and for the next, "I have also forgotten what I did, only
one day this week I visited Raybould under sentence of death," The next "week"
is blank, until the entries pick up again correctly on the 15th.
Edinburgh, 9 February 1 768 129
misfortunes with spirit," and sung, "The mind of a woman." Lord
Monboddo was there and highly pleased. All my prejudices against
Edinburgh were worn off. I saw the company quite agreeable and
elegant enough, with a great deal of virtuous manners.
WEDNESDAY io FEBRUARY. I breakfasted at Lord President's.
FRIDAY 12 FEBRUARY. Lord Justice- Clerk, Mr. David Ken-
nedy, Hay Campbell, Mr. Alexander Tait, John Davidson, &c., dined. 9
SATURDAY 13 FEBRUARY. I dined at Lord Justice-Clerk's with
my father. Lords Kinnoul, Coalston, Kames, Baron Winn, &c., were
there. I drank pretty freely, and after five went to Sally's mother and
renewed. She told me she was again, she believed, as before. 1 1 was a
little embarrassed, but just submitted my mind to it. I then went to
Crosbie and had some tea. Then he and I went to Mr. James Hay's and
had a consultation with Mrs. Smith of Ferret. It was quite in old
style, and when it was over honest Mr. Hay gave us a couple of bottles
of claret. This inflamed me again and I went back to Sally's mother.
She really looked pretty.
SUNDAY 14 FEBRUARY. I sat in all forenoon. Afternoon went
to church. Tea at home, then went to the good Doctor's. 2
MONDAY 15 FEBRUARY. This day I heard from Mr. Dilly that
my Account of Corsica was ready for publication, so I ordered Mr,
NeilP to give out copies in Scotland.
TUESDAY 16 FEBRUARY. I was busy with law.
THURSDAY 18 FEBRUARY. I breakfasted with Lord Hailes and
gave him my book. I dined with my father, Lord Coalston, &c., at the
Solicitor's with the ladies of Cromartie. Lady Augusta, the famed
beauty, did not strike me. I then went to an Ayrshire ball at Fortune's.
My book was published this day, and felt my own importance. I
danced with the Countess of Crawford, so opened the ball. I was quite
as I wished to be; only I am positive I had not so high an opinion of
9 A legal gathering. David Kennedy, an advocate, was M.P. for Ayrshire and
later tenth Earl of Cassillis. Hay Campbell, one of the Douglas counsel, was later
Lord President of the Court of Session, and a baronet. Tait was a principal clerk
of session, and Davidson a crown agent.
1 Boswell does not make any further mention of Mrs, Dodds's possible preg-
nancy, so perhaps she was mistaken.
2 Dr. Boswell's.
3 Adam Neill, printer in Edinburgh, and a business connection of Dilly's.
130 Edinburgh, 18 February 1768
myself as other people had. I look back with wonder on the mysterious
and respectful notions I used to have of authors. I felt that I was still
subject to attacks of feverish love, but I also knew that my mind is
now firm enough soon to recover its tone.
FRIDAY 19 FEBRUARY. I called on Lady Crawford in the fore-
noon. I felt that I could easily relapse into dissipation, but I also saw
that I was become strong; and though, when I allowed myself to be
indolent, I was carried down the stream, I might if I pleased swim up
against the current.
SATURDAY 20 FEBRUARY. I dined at Lord Dundonald's. There
had been a coldness between that family and me, and I had not seen
them of a long time. All was well again, and old ideas of Major
Cochrane, my dear mother, &c., &c., &c. revived.*
SUNDAY 21 FEBRUARY. In all forenoon. I had dreamt of Ray-
bould under sentence of death. I was gloomy. Afternoon, church. Tea
home, then visited Raybould, that my gloomy imagination might be
cured by seeing the reality. I was shown up to him by Archibald, the
soldier who was to be tried for murder. 5 The clanking of the iron-room
door was terrible. I found him very composed. I sat by him an hour
and a half by the light of a dim farthing candle. He spoke very
properly on religion. I read him the 4 Chapter of the i Epistle of John
and lectured upon it. On verse 18 I discoursed on fear very appositely, 6
by an illustration taken from Robert Hay, the soldier who was hanged
last year. "There, John," said I, "did he lie quite sunk, quite desperate,
and neither would eat nor drink, and all for fear, just terror for dying.
But the comfortable doctrine of Christianity prevents this." I was
quite firm, and I was astonished to compare myself now with myself
when a boy, remarkably timorous. Raybould seemed wonderfully
easy. I therefore talked quite freely to him. "But, John, have you no
fear for the immediate pain of dying?" "No," said he, "I have had
none as yet. I know not how it may be at the very moment* But I do
4 Thomas Cochrane, eighth Earl of Dundonald, was Boswell's maternal grand-
uncle. He had been known as Major Cochrane before his accession to the title.
The "coldness" may have been occasioned by the Douglas cause, Lord Dun-
donald being a violent partisan of the Hamilton interest.
5 James Archibald, accused of murdering a fellow labourer, was found not
guilty because he had used no weapons but his fists.
6 "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casteth out fear."
A C
AN
C O
O F
U NT
C O R S I C A,
THE JOURNAL OF A TOUR
TO "THAT 'ISLAND; * .
AND MEMOIRS OF
PASCAL PA O L I.
BY J A M E S B O S W E L L, JSfq;
ILLUSTRATED with a New and Accurate MAP of CORSI CA.
Non enim propter gloriam, divitias aut horiores pxignamus, fed proptcr libec-
tatcra folummodo, <jnam nemo bonus nifi fimul cum vita amittit.
jUr. Comic, ct Baron. Scotiae ad Pap, A. D, 13x0*
G .L : A S
Pit i KT ED BY ROBERT AKD
EDWARD AN
Title-page of the first edition of Boswell's Account of
Corsica, published in February 1768
Edinburgh, 21 February 1768 131
think I shall be quite composed." I looked steadfastly at him during
this and saw he was speaking truly. One certain sign of his being
much at ease was the readiness with which his attention was diverted
to any other subject than his own melancholy situation; for, when a
man is much distressed, he is still fixed in brooding over his calamity.
But Raybould talked of his wife's journey down in all its particulars,
just as if he had been an indifferent, ordinary man.
He told me when he came first to Scotland he did not know the
difference between an agent and an advocate. 7 1 saw him beginning
to smile at his own ignorance. I considered how amazing it would be
if a man under sentence of death should really laugh, and, with the
nicest care of a diligent student of human nature, I as decently as
possible first smiled as he did, and gradually cherished the risible
exertion, till he and I together fairly laughed. How strange! He very
calmly examined whether a man dying of sickness or one in his
situation was worst. He said one in his situation. I argued that one
dying of sickness was worst, because he is weakened and unable to
support the fear of death, whereas one in his situation was quite well
but for the prospect before him. Raybould, however, maintained his
proposition, because, he said, the man weakened by sickness was
brought to a state of indifference. I bid him farewell. It was truly a
curious scene. I went and sat a while at the worthy Doctor's.
WEDNESDAY 24 FEBRUARY. I went to see Raybould's execu-
tion. I was invited up to the window of one , a merchant by ,
who knew me. I tried to be quite firm and philosophical, and imagined
Raybould in some future period telling what he felt at his execution.
The most dreadful event seems light when past, and I made it past by
imagination. I felt very little; but when he stood long on the ladder I
grew impatient, and was beginning to have uneasy sensations. I came
home. Mr. William Wilson, S., Mr. Walter Scott, 8 &c. dined. At night
I was with Lady Crawford at The Beggar's Opera^ which quite re-
7 An advocate is a counsellor-at-law or barrister, who does the actual pleading in
court. An agent or "writer" (the English equivalent is "solicitor") is a member
of the legal profession who advises clients and manages cases, but does not
present them in court. The position of agent was less distinguished socially, but
was likely to be more remunerative. Boswell was an advocate, John Johnston an
agent. A "Writer to the Signet" belongs to a special, superior class of agents,
8 Sir Walter Scott's father, a Writer to the Signet.
132 Edinburgh, 24 February 1 768
lieved any gloom. The songs revived London ideas, and my old in-
trigues with actresses who used to play in this opera. 9 I was happy
in being free of Miss Blair. The farce was The Vintner Tricked. It was
curious that after seeing a real hanging I should meet with two mock
ones on the stage. I went with Houston Stewart and renewed our old
acquaintance at Caddie 1 Miller's with oysters and claret. We sat till
two, very agreeably. When I came home I was a little dreary, but
it went off and I slept well.
THURSDAY 25 FEBRUARY. My father and I dined at the Mar-
quess of Lothian's.
SATURDAY 2 7 FEBRUARY. Sir Alexander Dick carried me out
in his coach to Prestonfield. No other person was there. We were quite
happy.
[Boswell to Horace Walpole] 2
Edinburgh, 26 February 1 768
SIR: I beg your acceptance of a copy of my Account of Corsica,
to which you have a better claim than you perhaps imagine, as I
dare say you have forgotten what you said to me at Paris, when I had
the honour of giving you a few anecdotes of what I had just come from
seeing among the brave Islanders. In short, Sir, your telling me that I
ought to publish something in order to show the Corsicans in a proper
light was my first incitement to undertake the work which has now
made its appearance. 3
If it gives any pleasure to Mr. Horace Walpole I shall be par-
ticularly happy. I shall think that I have been able to make him some
small return for the pleasure which his elegant writings have afforded
me. I have the honour to be, Sir, your most obedient, humble servant,
JAMES BOSWELL.
9 One of these actresses was Mrs. Love, wife of James Love, once manager of the
Edinburgh theatre, and an early friend of Boswell's.
1 A caddie was a street messenger, valet de place., arid odd-job man in general.
2 Printed in Letters of James Boswell, i. 146-147 and in Supplement to the Let-
ters of Horace Walpole, ed. Paget Toynbee, 1918, ii. 138-139, The original is in
the collection of Mr, and Mrs. Donald F. Hyde.
3 For this visit, see Boswell on the Grand Tour: Italy, Corsica, and France, 22
January 1766. Though Boswell did not know it ? Walpole had disliked him at
sight.
Edinburgh, 9 March 1768 133
[Received ?g March, Temple to Boswell]
Mamhead, i March 1 768
DEAR BOSWELL, If I am at all sorry you have broke with Miss
Blair, it is only lest it should give your father pain and lest he should
think it owing to your own imprudence; otherwise I could almost
congratulate you upon it, as I cannot help suspecting the mother of
interested views and the daughter of great insensibility, and even
want of sincerity and candour. Miss Blair's conduct, till you declared
yourself passionately her admirer, was prudent and blameless, but
since that time I should think that neither her reserve nor want of
feeling can be at all justified. "The woman that wants candour where
she is addressed by a man of merit wants a very essential virtue; and
she who can delight in the anxiety of a worthy mind is little to be
pitied when she feels the sharpest stings of anxiety in her own," so
says Lady Betty in the new comedy. 4 If she even loves you then
(which is almost impossible) she is justly punished; if she does not,
you must own you are happily off.
So it is as we suspected with regard to the Nabob. I trust he has
not taken the advantage of your candour and openness. I hope you do
not forget that the Princess did not give him an absolute refusal. Take
care you are not duped. Yet perhaps all this time I am accusing Miss
Blair very rashly and unjustly; perhaps she has heard of your un-
fortunate connection with Mrs. ; and if so, who then will be to
blame? And pray do not take any merit to yourself in bearing this
disappointment so calmly; perhaps some of it may be placed to that
vulgar creature's account; and if not, I am sure you never loved Miss
Blair. Pray tell me how the little infant does and where you have
placed it.
So you are going to town to publish your book, I fancy. How
have you swelled it into a six-shilling volume? Though so far on the
way, I will not formally invite you to proceed to Devonshire. My
parsonage is in a wretched condition, and I cannot have a spare room
till autumn. This, my dear Boswell, gives me a good deal of un-
4 Hugh Kelly's False Delicacy, act 2, scene 2. Garrick had produced it at Drury
Lane about six weeks before in competition with Goldsmith's Good-Natured
Man,
134 Edinburgh, 9 March 1 768
easiness. However, if you do come, I'll endeavor to get a bed for you
at Lord Lisburne's. I know you will think I write unkindly here, but
you cannot imagine what a vile house I live in, and I own I am weak
enough to be almost ashamed to receive you in it. However, take your
own way, and be assured that I can be no place where I would not
rather see you than any man I know. Adieu, and write to me when
you get to town.
W.J.T.
P.S. 5 I have just heard to my great concern that my unworthy
brother has completed the measure of his follies by eloping to Edin-
burgh with a woman of very low condition and not worth a guinea.
Claxton gives me a very good account today of your Corsica; he
commends it much. Pray do not forget to call upon him. As I expect
a copy, from the author, directed to the Reverend Mr. Temple of
Mamhead, near Chudleigh, Devon, to be left at the London Inn,
Exeter, I shall not think of buying Boswell's book. Is it not a shame I
should have occasion to mention this? But perhaps you have now
bound yourself by the same promise you did with regard to your
Letters. Such promises are very convenient.
WEDNESDAY 16 MARCH. 6 It is very odd that it is hardly possible
to set out upon a journey without being in confusion. I was so not a
little this morning. My worthy friend Johnston came and stayed by
me while I packed my trunk, the sign of a real friend. He who can
stand by a man while he packs his trunk would attend him to the
place of execution were he going to be hanged; for really one
packing his trunk and one going to be hanged are pretty much the
same company to a friend. My travelling companion was Mr. Robert-
son near Alloway, one of the contractors for paving the streets of
London, but who was going thither for the first time. Mr. John Small,
one of the macers 7 " of the Court of Session, was to ride by us all the
way. He could not get a horse this morning, so we took him into the
chaise to Haddington, where we had a beefsteak, having set out at
two o'clock. We seemed hearty and easy. Only I, whose combustible,
or rather inflammable, soul is always taking fire, was uneasy at hav-
5 A postscript preceding this one has been omitted.
6 To symbolize the importance of his jaunt to London, Boswell started a new
Journal, the first to be kept in a bound notebook.
7 A petty official who executes indictments and keeps order in the court.
Haddington^ 16 March 1768 135
ing left Mary., a pretty, lively little girl whom accident had thrown in
my way a few days before. She was one of those females who either
from wickedness or misfortune are the slaves of profligate men. She
was very young, and I resolved to try if there was virtue in her; so I
left her as many guineas as she said she could live upon till my return.
I got two of my friends to promise to go to her and offer her a high
bribe to break her engagement to me, and to write me what she did. I
find I am still somewhat of a Don Quixote, for now am I in love with
perhaps an abandoned, worthless being; but we shall see. We went to
Dunbar at night, where we drank the finest small beer I ever tasted
in my life, and had a good supper and warm punch.
THURSDAY i/ MARCH. We set out about half an hour after four
and went two stages to Berwick to breakfast. Captain Webster came
and saw me. 8 The elections were very dead here. The landlord offered
any of us a premium to set up as candidate and make a stir. We were
obliged to take four horses to Belford, but we went all in the chaise.
By the way we came to a place called Longbridgend, where there is
an arm of the sea and a river meeting which crosses the road on the
sands, which we took as easier than the turnpike road. The sea was
out, so we had to wait an hour. We played at drawing straws and at
odds and evens for halfpence. We did not dine, but came to Alnwick
at night to the house of Turnbull, the family of Northumberland's
old piper, who gave us many tunes with amazing dexterity. My at-
tention had still been fixed on Mary. It was a moment diverted by a
glance from a girl standing at a door in Alnwick. We supped heartily
and drank warm punch.
FRIDAY 18 MARCH. We set off very early. Small galloped on
first and had breakfast ready for us at Morpeth. He had travelled the
road a hundred times as Lord Cathcart's master household. 9 So he
bullied waiters, postilions, and ostlers, and carried us on like smoke.
We got to Newcastle about noon. I sent for my brother, the Lieuten-
ant, 1 and he carried me to dine where he was boarded, at Dr. Wilson's.
8 Captain (later Lt.-Colonel) James Webster, Dr. Alexander Webster's second
son, was full of vivacity and lively humour according to David Boswell. He
served with distinction in the American Revolution and died of wounds received
at the battle of Guilford Court House.
a The Scottish equivalent of a steward in a nobleman's household.
1 Lt. John Boswell, Lord Auchinleck's second son, suffered from intermittent
attacks of insanity, possibly initiated by a fall on a flight of stairs in 1762.
1 36 Newcastle, 1 8 March 1768
The Doctor was not at home. But his lady, a fine, pretty, amiable little
woman, entertained us. I had on my journey an old French black
suit, but I here put on my green and gold and made a good figure.
After dinner the Doctor came in, a worthy, sensible man. He showed
me a little essay he had written on the Douglas cause. It was well. But
I had already seen so much upon it in a more masterly style that it did
not strike me greatly. My brother and I went and drank tea with old
Mr. Aitken, the dissenting clergyman who was my father's governor,
and there much plain, old-fashioned, cordial conversation passed. I
then went to my inn and sent for Mr. Spearman, the attorney. He was
a young^ smart, talking fellow. He and Dr. Wilson and my brother
supped with me. I was pleased to see the kind of people in the north of
England. But hasted south.
SATURDAY 19 MARCH. Small acquitted himself so nobly that
Mr. Robertson and I constituted him Lord President, and we were the
Court of Session, He was very droll. "Come, my lords, we have done a
great deal of business. Tomorrow your lordships have a church
cause." (That was to see the Minster at York.) "We shall make a
good session of it." We got to York at night and put up at Bluitfs Inn.
We were dusty, bustling fellows, and no sooner was our baggage
taken off than we posted to the theatre. We went into the back seat of
one of the boxes, and indeed there was a pretty company. I loved to see
so many genteel people in their own county town, in place of crowd-
ing to London. The play was False Delicacy, and the farce, A Peep
behind the Curtain. Wilkinson, the mimic, played, and several of the
performers did very well. We returned to our inn and had an excel-
lent supper, the President encouraging the court to eat heartily. I
never saw a better inn. The waiters had all one livery: brown coats
and scarlet vests. We had hitherto been raised very early, but we now
resolved to take sufficient repose for a night. Upon my word, eating,
drinking, and sleeping are matters of great moment.
SUNDAY 20 MARCH. After a long sleep and a copious breakfast,
we went and saw the cathedral. It is a prodigiously noble Gothic
edifice. Small and Robertson stayed all the time of service. But I slip-
ped away to a coffee-house where I fell into conversation with a Sir
George (I believe, Armytage) about Corsica. He talked very warmly
for them and seemed to know a good deal about them. I began to think
York, 20 March 1768 137
he must have learnt his knowledge of me. So I asked him if the Corsi-
cans had any seaports. "Oh, yes, Sir," said he, "very good ones. Why,
Boswell's Account of Corsica tells you all that." "Sir?" said I, "what
is that?" u Why, Sir," said he, " a book just now published." "By an
officer in that service, Sir?" said I. "No," said he. "I have not the
pleasure of being acquainted with the gentleman, but Mr. Boswell is
a gentleman who was abroad and who thought he would pay a visit
to Corsica, and accordingly went thither and had many conversations
with Paoli" (Pioli he pronounced it), "and he has given its history
and a full account of everything about the island, and has shown that
Britain should make an alliance with Corsica." "But, Sir," said I, "can
we believe what he says?" "Yes, Sir," said Sir George, "the book is
authentic and very accurate." I was highly pleased.
About twelve we set out, having first seen the assembly room,
which is really very noble, with columns all round it, and a spacious
passage with lifters behind each box for gentlemen to get in, and then
let them down and sit behind the ladies. I call the seats between each
column, boxes. I lost Mary in the crowd at York, but I found her again
upon the road. How strange is this! the author of the Account of Cor-
sica the sport of a frivolous passion. Shall my mind ever be all solid
and rational? Yes. A room which is hung with the slightest chintz and
gaudiest paper may by and by be hung with substantial velvet or
even thick arras hangings with scripture stories wrought upon them.
My walls are good, so they will bear any sort of hangings. Often have
they been substantially hung. But as yet I have changed my furniture
as whim suggested. Small insisted we should dine at Ferrybridge, at
the inn of his old acquaintance, Landlord Lowe. We did so, and were
very jolly. Lowe had travelled in Italy with the Marquess of Rocking-
ham, but had not weakened a bit his honest old English bluffness.
This was the only dinner our President allowed us upon the journey.
He was our purser and studied economy as well as dispatch. Lowe was
very desirous to see my Corsica. Many a curious reader I have.
We went at night to the inn on Barnby Moor. We were now jum-
bled into old acquaintance. I felt myself quite strong, and exulted
when I compared my present mind with my mind some years ago.
Formerly my mind was quite a lodging-house for all ideas who chose
to put up there, so that it was at the mercy of accident, for I had no
138 Barnby Moor, 20 March 1 768
fixed mind of my own. Now my mind is a house where, though the
street rooms and the upper floors are open to strangers, yet there is
always a settled family in the back parlour and sleeping-closet behind
it; and this family can judge of the ideas which come to lodge. This
family! this landlord, let me say, or this landlady, as the mind and the
soul are both she. I shall confuse myself with metaphor. Let me then
have done with it. Only this more. The ideas rny lodgers are of
all sorts. Some, gentlemen of the law, who pay me a great deal more
than others. Divines of all sorts have been with me, and have ever 2
disturbed me. When I first took up house, Presbyterian ministers
used to make me melancholy with dreary tones. Methodists next
shook my passions. Romish clergy filled me with solemn ideas, and,
although their statues and many movable ornaments are gone, yet
they drew some pictures upon my walls with such deep strokes that
they still remain. They are, indeed, only agreeable ones. I had Deists
for a very short while. But they, being sceptics, were perpetually
alarming me with thoughts that my walls were made of clay and
could not last, so I was glad to get rid of them. I am forced to own that
my rooms have been occupied by women of the town, and by some
ladies of abandoned manners. But I am resolved that by degrees there
shall be only decent people and innocent, gay lodgers.
MONDAY 21 MARCH. We started betimes. We breakfasted at
3 Small, as President, said, "Come, your lordships have the peti-
tion of the landlord praying to put you into a new- washed room. Re-
fuse." He was highly comical, and Robertson was an excellent hand
to laugh at his jokes. He had gotten his hair oiled. He said it was to
keep the dust out of it. Robertson laughed for near half an hour at this.
1 was now become quite composed, and never spoke for speaking's
sake, or was uneasy because I was silent. The truth is I am now con-
scious of having attained to a superior character, and so rest satisfied.
Robertson had read my Corsica and could tell a good deal about it.
He sung pretty well, and in the chaise when he thought I was not
minding him, he hummed an amazing number of tunes. This morn-
2 Perhaps "even."
3 At Newark, Grantham, or Colesworth, depending on whether they drove two,
three, or four stages. See above, 17 March 1768, and below, 31 August 1769 and
i September 1769. (Stilton was the fourth stage beyond Grantham.)
Biggleswade, 21 March 1768 139
ing his music took an exceedingly droll turn. He sung "Blest as th'
immortal gods is he" to the tune of Black Joke.* Much did I inwardly
laugh. N.B. It will do nobly for Brigadier Bluster in my comedy. 5
We came at night to Biggleswade, having travelled this day 105
miles. We had an admirable supper. After my former sufferings from
bad health and low spirits, I exulted in my present vigour and cheer-
fulness.
TUESDAY 22 MARCH. Mary began to fade. 6 I thought of mar-
riage and was determined to have a good match, as I was become so
agreeable and so happy a man. Miss Bosville my Yorkshire beauty,
Mademoiselle de Zuylen my Utrecht bel esprit and friend, 7 were both
before me. Yet still I had no determined purpose. About two we ar-
rived at London and put up at the Star and Garter in Bond Street. 8
The streets and squares of the metropolis with all the hurry and vari-
ety struck me to a certain degree, but by no means as they had once
done, and I contentedly felt myself an Edinburgh advocate. Our Lord
President, who had made us live with economy upon the road, find-
ing that of twenty-nine guineas set apart for our expenses there re-
mained two, would needs conclude the session with a jovial repast.
Accordingly, we had a cod with oyster and shrimp sauce, some other
dishes,, and three bottles of the best claret I ever drank. Prentice and
Rowden, the two landlords, were called in to take a glass, and in
short we were great men. Upon the whole, it was as good a journey
4 "Blest as th' immortal gods is he" is Ambrose Philips's version of an ode by
Sappho. The Coal-black Joke is an English air associated with very indecent
words.
5 So far as is known, this comedy was never written.
6 On 10 June, Boswell wrote to John Johnston that he was distressed to find that
there was "not a spark of virtue" in Mary.
7 Boswell had written to Zelide as recently as 26 February to ask, "Whether do
you think that you and I shall live happier: as distant correspondents, or as
partners for life?" (Boswell in Holland, Correspondence with Belle de Zuylen).
8 Not unheralded. On i March The London Chronicle printed the following
notices: "Messrs. Herries and Co., merchants in this city, have received bills of
loading from Leghorn of presents from General Paoli to Mr. Boswell." "James
Boswell, Esquire, is expected in town." And under date of 24 March: "Yesterday
James Boswell, Esquire, arrived from Scotland at his apartments in Half Moon
Street, Piccadilly." Boswell's marked file of the Chronicle shows that he sent in
these notices himself.
140 London, 22 March 1768
as ever was made; and, as in all other scenes, though words do but
imperfectly preserve the ideas, yet such notes as I write are suffi-
cient to make the impressions revive, with many associated ones.
What should there be in this house but a club every Tuesday called
the Roman Club, consisting of gentlemen who were at Rome the
same year I was; and who should be upstairs alone but my friend
Consul Dick. I sent to him, and he came down immediately. We em-
braced and in a few words renewed our covenant of cordiality. I
then got into a hackney-coach and drove to Mr. Russel's, upholsterer,
Half Moon Street, Piccadilly, where I had admirable lodgings. After
unpacking my trunk, I sallied forth like a roaring lion after girls,
blending philosophy and raking. I had a neat little lass in armour, at
a tavern in the Strand. I then went to the Consul's and supped, and
was quite hearty.
WEDNESDAY 23 MARCH. The Consul had provided me not only
good lodgings, but a good servant. His name was Anthony Mudf ord, a
Somersetshire lad who had served his time to a hairdresser. I gave him
a guinea a week for everything. I called on Lord Mountstuart. But he
was out of town. I waited on the Duke of Queensberry for ten minutes,
as he had to dress to go to Court. He received me well, and assured me
that Mr. Douglas would run no risk. 9
I had this morning been at Tyburn seeing the execution of Mr.
Gibson, the attorney, for forgery, and of Benjamin Payne for highway
robbery. It is a curious turn, but I never can resist seeing executions.
The Abbe du Bos ingeniously shows that we have all a strong desire
of having our passions moved, and the interesting scene of a man with
death before his eyes cannot but move us greatly. One of weak nerves
is overpowered by such spectacles. But by thinking and accustoming
myself to them, I can see them quite firmly, though I feel compassion,
I was on a scaffold close by. Payne was a poor young man of nineteen.
He was pale as death, and half a corpse before the rope was put round
his neck. Mr. Gibson came in a coach with some of his friends, and I
declare I cannot conceive a more perfect calmness and manly resolu-
tion than his behaviour. He was dressed in a full suit of black, wore
his own hair cut round and a hat, was a man about fifty, and as he
9 Charles Douglas, third Duke of Queensberry, famous as Gay's patron, was one
of Archibald Douglas's guardians.
London, 23 March 1768 141
drove along it was impossible to perceive the least sign of dejection or
gloom about him. He was helped up on the cart. The rope was put
round his neck, and he stood with the mos-, perfect composure, eat a
sweet orange,, and seemed rationally devout during prayers by Mr.
Moore, the ordinary 1 of Newgate, who is really a good man and most
earnest in the duties of his sad office, which I think a very important
one. Stephen Roe, the last ordinary, was but a rough-spun blade.
Never did I see death without some horror but in the case of Mr.
Gibson. It seemed a very easy matter. I always use to compare the con-
duct of malefactors with what I suppose my conduct might be. I be-
lieve I confounded the people about me by my many reflections. I
affected being shocked that punishment might have an effect on their
minds, though it had none upon my own. I never saw a man hanged
but I thought I could behave better than he did, except Mr. Gibson,
who, I confess, exceeded all that I could ever hope to show of easy and
steady resolution. 2
I run about all the forenoon, and got to Mr. Billy's about three. It
was comfortable to find myself in the shop where my book was pub-
lished, and, from the great connection between author and bookseller,
I was very kindly received, Mr. Dilly made me acquainted with his
brother, Mr. Charles, a good, tall, smartish, civil, bowing young man,
quite of the city form, and to his sister, Miss Dilly, a neat, little, well-
behaved young lady, smart too not very pretty, but with a good air
and a handsome headdress she appeared very well. Dinner was over,
but I had some slices of good roast mutton and potatoes and excellent
beer. Then we drank a glass of port and were like blood relations. A
Mr. Clayton, a gentleman of 1500 a year and a good house about ten
miles from London, was there. He lives at Messrs. Dillys' when he
comes to town, and they go and visit him. Mr. Mayo, a dissenting
clergyman, came in. I observed I was introduced with great cere-
mony, like one whose character was high.
1 That is, the permanent chaplain.
2 Boswell was sufficiently impressed by this execution to work up this portion of
the Journal as a letter to The Public Advertiser, which he incorporated in a
Hypochondriack essay (No. 68) fifteen years later. There he attempts to explain
his lifelong interest in executions by saying that we have a natural anxiety to
see how others face death, but he admits that a desire to see others suffer plays
some part.
142 London, 23 March 1768
We went to Guildhall to see the poll for members. It was really
grand. Harley (Lord Mayor) , Beckf ord, Trecothick, Sir Richard Glyn,
Mr. Deputy Paterson, and Mr. Wilkes 8 all stood upon the hustings,
that is to say, a place raised by some steps at one end of the room. They
had true London countenances. I cannot describe them. It was curious
for me to look at Wilkes here and recollect my scenes with him at
Rome, Naples, and Paris. The confusion and the noise of the mob
roaring "Wilkes and Liberty" were prodigious. I met here Mr. Herries
and Sir William Forbes, 4 and, after having had enough of the confu-
sion, I went to them and drank a glass of claret. They showed me my
Corsican gun and pistols. But the dog had broken loose and was run-
ning about town. 5 Thomas, Mr. Herries's servant, and Will, the butch-
er's man, and I went and patrolled an hour in the Borough, 6 but did
not see him. I returned by Dilly's and drank tea. Doctors Saunders and
Smith were there. I found it to be a very hospitable house. In the
Strand I inquired at the girls for a Miss Simson whom I had known
formerly. One of them very obligingly went with me to a Miss Sim-
son's. But she was not the same. However, they both seemed good-
natured, and I sat and drank some port with them, and then tossed up
which I should make my sultana. Luckily the lot fell on my obliging
conductress. I however was armed.
THURSDAY 24 MARCH. I patrolled the great metropolis the
whole morning. I dined at the worthy Consul's; a lady and a gentle-
man were there. We were easy enough. At night I still patrolled, I
cannot tell where. But about ten I came to Sir John Pringle's. He re-
3 Whom Boswell had not seen since their parting in Paris in 1766. Still under
sentence of outlawry, Wilkes had returned to England and had presented him-
self as candidate for London in the general elections. This was the last day of the
poll. Though vociferously supported by the mob (many of whom were riot en-
titled to vote), he finished last among the seven candidates for the four places.
Wilkes thereupon declared himself a candidate for Middlesex, and on 28 March
was chosen by a heavy majority (see p. 156 and p. 286 n.8),
4 At that time a partner in the Edinburgh banking house where David Boswell
had been employed. Forbes later became one of Boswell's closest friends and was
named along with Temple and Edmond Malone as one of his literary executors.
5 Paoli had presented Boswell with one dog, Jachone, while in Corsica, but
Jachone had run away in France on the trip home. This was another dog sent by
Paoli.
6 Of Southward
London, 24 March 1768 143
ceived me with his usual grave, steady kindness. General Clerk was
with him. The conversation turned on the wars of Venus. The General
assured me that oil was an infallible shield. Sir John nodded assent;
I resolved to try it fairly. After the General went away I talked to Sir
John of Mademoiselle de Zuylen. I had just received a letter from Mr.
Brown at Utrecht containing a very sensible proposal from her, that if
I had any serious thoughts of her I should come to see her, and then
we might judge whether we could live happily together or not. Sir
John had opposed any such scheme. But I found him now better dis-
posed to it, upon which I wrote to my father and begged permission to
go to Utrecht.
FRIDAY 25 MARCH. I dined at ray good kinsman Godfrey Bos-
ville, Esquire's. Nobody was there, but just the family that I left. He
received me with true kindness. Miss Bosville was now engaged to Sir
Alexander Macdonald. 7 Godfrey had drawn up a very full account of
his family. It entertained me a good deal and put some comfortable
ideas in my mind. 8 I then went to Covent Garden and in one of the
courts called for a young lady whom I had seen when formerly in
London. I did not find her, but I found Kitty Brookes, as pretty a lively
lass as youth need see. The oil was called and I played my part well. I
never saw a girl more expert at it. I gave her only four shillings, to try
her generosity. She never made the least sign of discontent, but was
quite gay and obliging. Just as I was going away I turned back and
again we loved. Then was the time for her to ask something. Yet she
made not the smallest advance. I fell on my knees and kissed her
hand: "My dear Kitty, you are a virtuous girl. I could marry you this
moment."
I then came home, and Maconochie 9 and I went to Percy Coffee-
7 Of Sleat, in the Hebrides. So, despite Lord Eglinton's opinion of its undesirabil-
ity (p. 117), Miss Bosville did marry a Scotsman, and a Highlander at that. Sir
Alexander and his wife entertained Boswell and Johnson on their tour of the
Hebrides in 1773 in so miserly a fashion that Boswell complained of their lack of
hospitality in his Tour to the Hebrides, 1785. Sir Alexander became very angry
and a duel was barely avoided.
8 At this point a leaf of the Journal has been removed, but the passage can be
recovered from a typescript made at a time when this portion of the text was in-
tact. This page of typescript is now printed for the first time.
9 Alexander Maconochie, a "writer," was one of Douglas's chief legal agents.
144 London, 25 March 1768
house, Rathbone Place, to meet Mr. Guthrie, the historian and Critical
R ev i ewer<j w ho had fought the battle of Douglas in the Review, and
had praised my Account of Corsica? He was an old gentleman about
sixty, had on a white coat and a crimson satin waistcoat with broad
gold lace, and a bag-wig. We had port and madeira and a hearty sup-
per. He had a great deal of the London author. He praised my book
much, and drank a bumper to Pascal Paoli, omni titulo major. 2 He
told me he and my father had been at the same class in the College,
and he talked of "little Robin Hunter." He said he did not wonder that
the Douglas cause was lost in Scotland, as it had against it all the in-
terest of the families of Hamilton, Argyll, Hyndford, and the Dal-
rymples. As he had observed in the Review that it was a loss to us in
Scotland to have no jury in civil causes, I gave him Lord Hailes's argu-
ment that the lords of session made a jury, only a wiser and more en-
lightened jury than a number of tradesmen. 3 He answered this argu-
ment by observing that in England the jury is always changed for
every cause; that the jurymen are chosen by a sort of chance, as the
judges just take a pin and prick at random on the back of the paper
whereon their names are written, and wherever the holes happen to
be made these jurymen are chosen. "Whereas," said he, "the lords of
session form a perpetual jury, which is a very dangerous one."
He praised my Account of Corsica much, though he found some
faults with it. "You will see my opinion of it," said he. It was curious
to sit with the very person whom in a little I should look upon as an
awful reviewer. He talked very well (I mean very justly) of Wilkes.
Said that ho wrote with vivacity, but that there was no political knowl-
edge, no manliness, in his papers. "Ah-," said he, "when Lord Boling-
broke and I wrote together, when the Craftsman came out, when Old
England by Jeffrey Broadbottom came out." 4 We took a very cheerful
1 In conversation apparently, for his review had not yet been published in The
Critical Review. See later in this entry.
2 "Greater than any title," that is, so great a man that no one used a title with
his name. Boswell is thinking of a passage in Corsica (3d eel, 1769, p. 154 n.) in
which he says that, at Lord Hailes's suggestion, he has avoided calling Paoli
"Signer" or "General." "You do not say King Alexander, but Alexander of
Macedon,"
3 Here the text is resumed in the manuscript.
4 Guthrie himself was the principal writer of Old England, or ? The, Constitu-
London., 25 March 1768 145
glass of claret and madeira. He took me by the hand and said my con-
versation exceeded my writing. "Well," said he, "y u are a gem^s. A
thousand people might have thought of making themselves famous
before one would have thought of Corsica." He asked Maconochie and
me to dine with him on the Sunday sennight. When the old man
praised my book, I paid him a very genteel compliment. "Sir," said I,
"amidst such historic oaks as yours, it is well if a little praise can be
given to such a shrub as mine, growing on the rocky surface of Cor-
sica." I gave him some curious anecdotes of Scotch antiquities which
I had learnt from my father. Upon the whole, the evening went well
off. We accompanied him home in our hackney-coach as far as Port-
land Chapel, where he lived. Mr. Maconochie then set me down.
SATURDAY 26 MARCH. On my coming to London I had called
on Mr. Samuel Johnson, but found he was gone to Oxford and was
living at New Inn Hall. I was very anxious to see again my revered
friend. I had written him many letters and had received none from
him of a long time. I had published my Account of Corsica., in which I
had spoken very highly of him, yet he had taken no notice of it. I had
heard he was displeased at my having put into my book a part of one
of his letters to me. In short, I was quite in the dark concerning him.
But, be it as it would, I was determined to find him out, and if possible
be well with him as usual. I therefore set out early this morning in the
Oxford fly. Anthony had an outside place. My travelling companions
were an old, red-faced, fat gentlewoman who lived in the borough of
Southwark, and whose husband dealt in a wholesale trade of brandy
and wine. Dr. Cockayne, a lecturer at one of the churches, lodged in
her house, having his own maid-servant and a boy. But she would not
board the Doctor. "No, no. I knows him too well. Why, he's the great-
est epicure, perpetually minding his belly. I tells him, 'Why, Doctor,
you do nothing else from morning to night. You sure have a false
pocket. 7 And so I roasts him. But he's a good-natured creature, and
would have everyone to share with him. He gets up my daughter:
'Come now, Miss, we'll have some tea and something very nice with
it.' " Besides this good woman, there was a clergyman, a stiff divine, a
tional Journal, which was published under the pseudonym of Jeffrey Broad-
bottom.
146 Slough, 26 March 1768
fellow of a college in Oxford. He was very wise and laughed at the
old lady. The fourth in the coach was a little tailor who has often trip-
ped over to France and Flanders, and who therefore had a right to talk
as a travelled man. All the road was roaring with "Wilkes and Lib-
erty," which, with "No. 45/' 5 was chalked on every coach and chaise.
We breakfasted at Slough. We became very merry. We dined at Hen-
ley, and there we were as hearty as people could be. We had a good
drive to Oxford, with always t'other joke on Dr. Cockayne. We stop-
ped at the gate of Magdalen College, of which our clergyman was a
fellow. He jumped out of the coach, and in a moment we saw what a
great man he was; for he went into the barber's and got the key of his
chambers, and two or three people followed him with his trunk, tea-
things, and I know not what all. The lady left us here too. The tailor
and I put up at the Angel, where the coach inns; but we parted there.
I immediately had some coffee and then got a guide to show me
New Inn Hall. Mr. Johnson lived in the house of Mr, Chambers, the
head of that hall and Vinerian Professor at Oxford. 6 I supposed the
professor would be very formal, and I apprehended but an awkward
reception. However, I rung and was shown into the parlour. In a little,
down came Mr. Chambers^ a lively, easy, agreeable Newcastle man. I
had sent up my name, "Mr. Boswell." After receiving me very po-
litely, "Sir," said he, "you are Mr. Boswell of Auchinleck?" "Yes,
Sir." "Mr. Johnson wrote to you yesterday. He dined abroad, but I
expect him in every minute." "Oho!" thought I, "this is excellent." I
was quite relieved. Mr. Chambers gave me tea, and by and by arrived
the great man. He took me all in his arms and kissed me on both sides
of the head, and was as cordial as ever I saw him. I told him all my
perplexity on his account, and how I had come determined to fight
him, or to do anything he pleased. "What," said he, "did you come
5 The famous number of The North Briton in which Wilkes in 1763 had attacked
the King and his ministers, and which had played a major part in his subsequent
career. It was identified with popular as opposed to royal or aristocratic rule.
c A law professorship. In 1774 at about the age of thirty-seven, Robert (later Sir
Robert) Chambers married Fanny Wilton, a fifteen-year old beauty, and went
out to Bengal to serve on its supreme court. He subsequently became Chief
Justice of this court and President of the Asiatic Society. Though Boswell does
not seem to have known it, Johnson was visiting Chambers to help him write the
lectures he was required to deliver.
Oxford, 26 March 1768 147
here on purpose?" "Yes, indeed," said I. This gave him high satisfac-
tion. I told him how I was settled as a lawyer and how I had made two
hundred pounds by the law this year. He grumbled and laughed and
was wonderfully pleased. "What, Bozzy? Two hundred pounds! A
great deal."
I had longed much to see him as my great preceptor, to state to
him some difficulties as a moralist with regard to the profession of the
law, as it appeared to me that in some respects it hurt the principles of
honesty; and I asked him if it did not. "Why, no, Sir," said he, "if you
act properly. You are not to deceive your clients with false representa-
tions of your opinion. You are not to tell lies to a judge." "But," said I,
"what do you think of pleading a cause which you know to be bad?"
"Sir, you don't know it to be bad till the judge determines it. I have
said that you are to state your facts fairly; so that your thinking, or
what you call knowing, a cause to be bad must be from reasoning,
must be from thinking your arguments weak and inconclusive. But,
Sir, that is not enough. An argument which does not convince you
yourself may convince the judge before whom you plead it; and if it
does convince him, why, then, Sir, you are wrong and he is right. It is
his business to judge, and you are not to be confident in your opinion,
but to say all you can for your client and then hear the judge's opin-
ion." "But, Sir," said I, "does not the putting on a warmth when you
have no warmth, and appearing to be clearly of one opinion when you
are in reality of another, does not such dissimulation hurt one's hon-
esty? Is there not some danger that one may put on the same mask in
common life, in the intercourse with one's friends?" "Why, no, Sir.
Everybody knows you are paid for putting on a warmth for your
client, and it is properly no dissimulation. The moment you come
from the bar you resume your usual behaviour. Sir, a man will no
more carry the artifice of the bar into the common intercourse of
society than a man who is paid for tumbling upon his hands will con-
tinue tumbling upon his hands when he ought to be walking on his
feet." Wonderful force and fancy. At once he satisfied me as to a thing
which had often and often perplexed me. It was truly comfortable
having him in his own old High-Church Oxford, and I had besides
many good ideas of the Vinerian Professor, the head of a hall, &c.
These halls were originally additions to colleges where there was not
148 Oxford, 26 March 1768
sufficient room. In time some of them became unnecessary as the
number of students decreased. There are no students in New Inn Hall.
But it is kept up and gives the rank of master to Mr. Chambers.
I told Mr. Johnson a story which I should have recorded before
this time. The day before I left London, coming through Bloomsbury
Square and being dressed in green and gold, I was actually taken for
Wilkes by a Middlesex voter who came up to me. "Sir, I beg pardon,
is not your name Wilkes?' 7 "Yes, Sir." "I thought so. I saw you upon
the hustings and I thought I knew you again. Sir, I'm your very good
friend; I've got you five and twenty votes today." I bowed and grinned
and thanked him, and talked of liberty and general warrants and I
don't know what all. I told him too, between ourselves, that the King
had a very good opinion of me. I ventured to ask him how he could be
sure that I was a right man and acted from public spirit. He was a
little puzzled. So I helped him out. "As to my private character, it
would take a long time to explain it. But, Sir, if I were the devil, I have
done good to the people of England, and they ought to support me."
"Ay," said he. I am vexed I did not make more of this curious incident.
After carrying my voter half-way down Long Acre, I stopped and
looked him gravely in the face. "Sir, I must tell you a secret. I'm riot
Mr. Wilkes, and what's more, I'm a Scotsman." He stared not a little,
and said, "Sir, I beg pardon for having given you so much trouble."
"No, Sir," said I, "you have been very good company to me." I wonder
he did not beat me. I said to Mr. Johnson that I never before knew that
I was so ugly a fellow. He was angry at me that I did not borrow
money from the voter. Indeed, it would have made a fine scene at
Brentford when he demanded payment of the real Wilkes, and called
him a rogue for denying the debt.
The conversation of Mr. Johnson, Mr. Chambers, and me then
turned on the latest authors. Mr. Johnson would allow no character
to False Delicacy. He praised Goldsmith's Good-Natured Man. He
said it was the best comedy that has appeared since The Provoked
Husband. "Sir," said he, "there has not been of late any such character
exhibited on the stage as that of Croaker." I told him it was just the
Suspirius of his Rambler. He said Goldsmith owned he had borrowed
it from thence. "Sir," said he, "there is all the difference in the world
between characters of nature and characters of manners. And there
is the difference between those of Fielding and those of Richardson.
Oxford, 26 March 1768 149
Characters of manners are very entertaining; but they are to be under-
stood by a more superficial observer than characters of nature can
be, where a man must dive into the recesses of human nature. Even
Sir Francis Wronghead is a character of manners, though drawn with
great humour." He then repeated all Sir Francis's story to Manly of
his being with the great man and securing a place. 7 I asked him if
The Suspicious Husband did not furnish a well-drawn character, that
of Ranger. "No, Sir," said he, "Ranger is just a rake, a mere rake, and
a lively young fellow, but no character."
I asked him and Mr. Chambers to go and sup at my room. They
made me stay with them that night, and promised to come to me next
night. I brought on the subject of the Douglas cause. Mr. Johnson had
never studied it. He had just heard parts of it. He was of opinion that
positive, or what is called proof that admits of no doubt, should not
be required; but that judges should give the cause according as the
probability should preponderate, allowing, however, to Mr. Douglas
the general presumption of filiation as strong in his favour. He
thought a good deal of force should be allowed to the dying declara-
tions for this reason, because they were voluntary and spontaneous;
for he observed that there is all the difference in the world between
what is said without our being pushed to it, and what is said from
a sort of compulsion. "If I praise a man's book without being asked
my opinion of it, that is honest praise and may be depended on. But
when an author asks me if I like his book and I give him something
like praise, it must not be taken as my real opinion." I thought within
myself I should not ask him about my book. He promised to read
my Essence of the Douglas Cause.
He told us he had not been plagued of a long time with authors
desiring his opinion of their works. He said he used once to be sadly
plagued with a man who wrote verses, but who had no other notion
of a verse but that it consisted of ten syllables. "Lay your knife and
your fork across your plate" was to him a verse:
Lay your knife and your fork across your plate.
7 In Sir John Vanbrugh and Colley Gibber's The Provoked Husband, Sir Francis
Wronghead is a country squire who spends half his fortune to be elected to
Parliament, and at once brings his family up to London, all of whom hope to
make their fortune overnight. His kinsman, Manly, preserves them from their
folly by his secret intervention.
150 Oxford, 26 March 1768
And, as he wrote a great number of verses, he sometimes by chance
made good ones, though he did not know it.
He put me in mind of our journey to Harwich, and we recalled
many a circumstance. He also renewed his promise of coming to Scot-
land and visiting with me some of the Western Isles. He was now to
content himself with seeing one or two of the most curious. He said,
"Macaulay, who writes the account of St. Kilda, 8 set out with a
prejudice against prejudices, and wanted to be a smart modern
thinker; and yet he affirms for a truth, that when a ship arrives all the
inhabitants are seized with a cold." In this manner did our evening
pass. When I got home I went to bed more comfortably than I had
done for a good while past. But I was still apprehensive of some
venereal mischief, and at any rate had the remains of an old one,
though without infection.
SUNDAY 27 MARCH. I sent a card to Dr. Smith, the anatomy
professor 9 and physician here, that if it was convenient I would come
and breakfast with him. I was made welcome. So I went and found
him just as he was in 1 763 when poor Sir James Macdonald made me
acquainted with him, only he was now become professor and had a
very elegant house. Dr. Smith is a Maybole man. He had a sister who
had come up two years ago and was our landlady. Various topics of
conversation employed us. He is a great foe to Johnson and an admirer
of Hume, but can bear my admiration of Mr. Johnson very well. After
breakfast we went to Christ Church, where he introduced me to Frank
Stewart, Lord Eglinton's nephew, a very pretty young man treading
in the steps of Sir James Macdonald. 1
8 The Rev, Kenneth Macaulay, great-uncle of Lord Macaulay. ". . . who writes
[for "wrote" or "who has written"] the account of St. Kilda . . ," is a Scotti-
cism which Johnson could hardly have used. It escaped Malone and still stands
in the Life.
9 Officially, professor of geometry. Maybole, mentioned further on in this entry,
is a town in Ayrshire.
3 Sir James Macdonald, who had died in 1766, had been considered a young man
of brilliant promise because he united scholarly attainments and the accom-
plishments of a man of the world. Frank Stewart was his first cousin, arid like
him died young. David Boswell admired Stewart extremely. "I never came into
the room where he was," he wrote to Boswell (28 April 1767), "but I trembled
as if some superior being had been present. I know you wonder that I should
Oxford, 2 7 March 1768 151
I went to St. Mary's to hear the sermon before the University of
Oxford, which has often filled me with a grand idea. But this institu-
tion is become a matter of mere form, and, although all the preachers
in the university must have this office in their turns, they are allowed
to employ others to officiate for them, to whom they give three guineas
apiece, and it is generally performed by men who have no reputation
to lose, and are indifferent how they are received. The show of vice-
chancellor, proctors, masters of arts, &c., was well enough, but there
were but few students there. A Dr. Blackstone, who had been a
physician, preached. He gave us a good, sensible, common sermon.
After sermon, I went back to Mr. Stewart. He and I ordered dinner
at the Golden Cross, and then went and walked in the venerable shade.
I found he was a great admirer of my book, and was quite a Corsican.
He resolved to visit that island, and I promised him a letter to Paoli.
We talked of Mr. Johnson. He esteemed him highly for his learning
and genius, but in the usual way of many people found fault with his
language. He mentioned the ridicule of it, called Lexiphanes^ written
by one Campbell. "Sir," said I, "nothing can be more unfair. Mr.
Johnson's language is suitable to his sentiment. He gives large words
because he has large ideas. If Campbell clothes little paltry ideas with
these big words, to be sure the effect must be ridiculous. The late King
of Prussia's tall regiment looked very stately with their large grena-
dier caps. If Campbell had taken these caps and clapped them on the
heads of a parcel of blackguard children in the street it would be
highly ridiculous, but does that prove anything against the caps when
properly applied? 2 No, Sir, Mr. Johnson has gigantic thoughts, and
therefore he must be allowed gigantic words." This was quite in Mr.
Johnson's own style. Mr. Stewart talked like a man of reflection and
rave so much about this young man, but I must say that I never did see one ap-
pear in my eyes to that advantage in conversation that he did the few times I
was in company with him."
2 This is so much like a passage in Longinus, On the Sublime, as to point to a
conscious or unconscious adaption: "For dressing up a trifling subject in grand
and exalted expressions makes the same ridiculous appearance as the enormous
mask of a tragedian would do upon the diminutive face of an infant" (trans.
William Smith, 2d ed. ? 1742, p. 71). Boswell read Longinus in the course in
Logic taught by John Stevenson at the University of Edinburgh, 1756-1757.
152 Oxford, 27 March 1768
principle. He approved of my sentiment, "Better occasional murders
than frequent adulteries," 3 and expatiated on the destruction of the
nobler kinds of happiness, confidence, family affection, &c., which
profligacy occasioned. We dined well at the Golden Cross, and had
a serious and affecting conversation about Sir James Macdonald. We
then adjourned to my inn, and had tea and coffee. I sent for Lord
Dundonald's son, James, who was of Balliol College. He came and sat
a while with us. Mr. Stewart was desirous to see Mr. Johnson. So I
asked him to be of my party at supper, upon his promising to be very
quiet and submissive. He left me a while to myself, when I indulged
most agreeable thoughts of the good spirits and fortunate circum-
stances, in many respects, which were now my lot.
About nine Mr. Johnson, Mr. Chambers, and Mr. Stewart as-
sembled. We had a good supper, and madeira and warm port negus,
Mr. Johnson expatiated on the advantages of Oxford for learning, as
there is there such a progressive emulation. "The tutors are anxious
to have their pupils appear well in the college. The colleges are
anxious to have their students appear well in the university. There
are all opportunities of books and learned men; there are no avoca-
tions. There are excellent rules of discipline in every college." I
objected that the rules and indeed the whole system is very ill ob-
served. u Why, Sir," said he, u that is nothing against the institution.
The members of an university may, for a season, be unmindful of
their duty. I am arguing for the excellency of the institution." He was
right. Indeed I can conceive nothing nobler in the way of learning
and science than Oxford. If they who are there neglect the means, it is
their own absurdity; it is their own loss. The means are always there
for such as will use them. But the expense is great. No young man can
do with less than 1 oo a year, and, if he takes the rank of a gentleman
commoner, it will cost him 200 a year. But this rank is of no real
service to his education, excepting that it puts him among young
people of better fortune who may be of use to him afterwards.
I spoke of Guthrie. "Sir," said Mr. Johnson, u he has parts. He has
no great regular fund of knowledge, but by reading so long and writ-
3 In Corsica, p, 243. This "sentiment" was much ridiculed by the reviewers. Bos-
well's temporary separation from Mrs. Dodds at the time he wrote this section
of the book probably added fervour to his denunciation of achiltery.
Oxford, 2 7 March 1 768 1 53
ing so long, he no doubt has picked up a good deal." The great man
still retained his prejudice against Scotland. The night before, he told
us he had lately been a long while at Lichfield, but had wearied
sadly. "I wonder at that," said I; "it is your native place." "Why,"
said he, u so is Scotland your native place." This night I talked of our
advances in literature. "Sir," said he, "you have learnt a little from
us, and you think yourselves very great men." Hume I knew he would
abuse. "Sir," said he, "Hume would never have written history had
not Voltaire written it before him. He is an echo of Voltaire." "But,
Sir," said I, "we have Lord Kames." "You have Lord Kames," said he;
"keep him, ha! ha! ha! We don't envy you him. Do you ever see Dr.
Robertson?" BOSWELL. "Yes." JOHNSON. "Does the dog ever talk of
me?" BOSWELL. "Indeed he does, and loves you." He said the severest
thing of Robertson without intending it, for I pushed him to say what
he thought of Robertson's History. 4 "Sir," said he, "I love Robertson,
and I won't talk of his book." He was very hard on poor Dr. Blair,
whom he holds wonderfully cheap for having written A Dissertation
on Ossian. Talking of the future life of brutes, "Sir," said he, "if you
allow Blair's soul to be immortal, why not allow a dog to be im-
mortal?" I wanted much to defend the pleasing system of brutes
existing in the other world. Mr. Johnson, who does not like to hear
any ideas of futurity but what are in the Thirty-nine Articles, was
out of humour with me, and watched his time to give me a blow. So
when I, with a serious, metaphysical, pensive face, ventured to say,
"But really, Sir, when we see a very sensible dog, we know not what
to think of him," he turned about, and growling with joy replied, "No,
Sir; and when we see a very foolish fellow, we don't know what to
think of him." Then up he got, bounced along, and stood by the fire,
laughing and exulting over me, while I took it to myself and had only
to say, "Well, but you do not know what to think of a very sensible
dog." About twelve they left me.
MONDAY 28 MARCH. I breakfasted with Mr. Stewart. Then he
and I went to Mr. Chambers's and found him and Mr. Johnson drink-
ing tea. I talked of the scorpion killing itself when encircled with hot
coals. Mr. Johnson said that Maupertuis is of opinion that it does not
4 William Robertson's History of Scotland, a very successful book, published in
^759-
154 Oxford., 28 March 1768
kill itself, but dies of the heat, and that its clapping its tail to its head
is merely a convulsion from the excessive pain, and it does not sting
itself. I told him I had often tried the experiment, that it ran round
and round, and finding no outlet retired to the centre, and, like a true
Stoic philosopher, gave itself the fatal sting to free itself from its
woes. "This will end 'em." 5 1 said it was a curious fact, as it showed
suicide in an insect. Mr. Johnson would not admit the fact. I said I
would write to the great Morgagni, the anatomist, and get him to ex-
amine the head of one after the experiment, and to tell whether it
was stung or not. Mr. Johnson said the report of Morgagni would
convince him. I shall certainly try to get it. Mr. Johnson said that the
woodcocks fly over to the northern countries, which is proved because
they have been observed at sea. He said swallows certainly sleep all
the winter; many of them conglobulate themselves by flying round
and round, and then all in a heap throw themselves under water, and
lie in the bed of a river. This appeared strange to me. I know not if
Mr. Johnson was well founded in it. Our conversation was quite on
natural philosophy. Mr. Johnson told us one of his first essays was a
Latin poem on the glow-worm.
I then talked of law and of our courts of justice in Scotland, of
which I gave them a very good account. I found that having been two
years a lawyer in real business had given me great force. I could not
be sensible of it, while living always with the same people. But I felt it
when I was with Mr. Johnson.
Mr. Stewart went home with me. Riall, an honest Irishman who
had studied civil law with me at Glasgow, came and saw me. He was
now become a divine. We all three went to dine at Dr. Smith's. He
had several more company; among the rest, Dr. Wilmot of Trinity,
a pleasant, jovial parson who loves hunting and a glass dearly. He was
well acquainted with Mr. Johnson, and said he submitted patiently
to be bruised by him in order to enjoy his conversation. Dr. Smith was
truly hospitable and civil. I had neglected in the morning to go and
see the Bodleian Library, which I had not seen when formerly at
Oxford. Dr. Smith got one of the under-keepers to show me it this
afternoon, a Mr, Hall of Jesus, a Welshman. It is indeed a grand and
venerable sight. I often repeated Mr. Johnson's line: "O'er Bodley's
: ' "This must end 'em," Addison, Cato 3 V. i. 20.
Oxford, 28 March 1768 155
dome his future labours spread." 6 I was shown a few very fine old
editions of books, and some rich manuscripts on vellum and illumi-
nated. I must return and stay a month at Oxford some vacation, and
enjoy it in calmness.
Mr. Stewart and I were invited to sup with Mr. Chambers. When
we went, it was about eight. I had drank tea with Mr. Stewart in an
Oxford coffee-house, while he listened to a wonderful variety of
anecdotes which I gave him. Said he: "You are an extraordinary man,
and have had extraordinary good fortune in meeting with such a
singular variety. It has been said that Mr. Johnson is a walking
library. You are a walking collection of men." Mr. Chambers was not
come in when we came to his house. Mr. Johnson came and enter-
tained us, bowed and said, "Your servant, gentlemen," and was really
courteous. The house is a good one, and genteelly furnished. We
talked of the Chinese and Russians. Mr. Johnson advised me to read
Bell's Travels. I asked him if I should read Du Halde's China. "Why
yes," said he, "as one reads such a book; that is to say, consult it."
When Mr. Chambers came we had a good supper. Mr. Johnson was
excellent company. He laughed a good deal. I really found him more
cheerful and gay. His mixing more in society had dissipated much of
that gloom which hung upon his mind when he lived much alone,
when he brooded in the Temple.
I forgot to put down two things in former evenings : one, that he
showed plainly that a general warrant must at times be granted by
all governments, but they must do it at their peril; so that all the noise
about Wilkes was idle, except as to some irregularities; the other
thing was a fine specimen of his contriving always to have the
superiority. When Mr. Chambers was getting the better of him in an
argument, he said to him as to a boy, "My dear Chambers, take it to
you, take it to you, since you will have it so," as if he made a con-
cession to please him, when in reality he did not know how to answer
him.
We talked of adultery. Mr. Johnson showed how highly criminal
it was, because it broke the peace of families and introduced confusion
of progeny. "These constitute the essence of the crime, and therefore
a woman who breaks her marriage vows is so much more criminal
e 77z# Vanity of Human Wishes, 1. 139.
156 Oxford, 28 March 1768
than a man. A man, to be sure, is criminal in the sight of God, but he
does not do his wife a very material injury if he does not insult her; if^
for instance, from mere wantonness of appetite, he steals privately to
her chamber-maid. Sir, a wife ought not greatly to resent this. I should
not receive home a daughter who had run away from her husband
on that account. A wife should study to reclaim her husband by more
attention to please him. Sir, a man will not once in a hundred in-
stances leave his wife and go to a harlot, if his wife has not been
negligent of pleasing." "Upon my word," said I, "he is grown liberal
upon our hand." "But," said Mr. Chambers, "suppose a husband goes
a-whoring, and then poxes his wife." "Why, Sir, if he poxes her, it is
a bodily injury, and she may resent it as she pleases."
I asked him if it was not hard that one deviation from chastity
should so absolutely ruin a woman. JOHNSON. "Why, no, Sir; the great
principle which every woman is taught is to keep her legs together.
When she has given up that principle, she has given up every notion
of female honour and virtue, which are all included in chastity," I
argued that virtue might be found even in a common street- walker.
He laughed^ and as I had told him of my Dutch lady, "Why," said he,
"I shall have the Dutch lady; you can get a wife in the streets." I told
him my objections to the Dutch lady were her superior talents. "O
Sir," said he, "you need not be afraid, marry her; before a year goes
about you'll find that reason much weaker, and that wit not near so
bright." admirable master of human nature!
He praised Baretti. "His Account of Italy is a very entertaining
book; and, Sir, I know no man who carries his head higher in con-
versation than Baretti. There are strong powers in his mind. He has
not indeed so many hooks as he might have had; but so far as his
hooks reach, he lays hold of objects very forcibly." This was another
good night. How different was I from what I was when I last saw Mr.
Johnson in London, when I was still wavering and often clouded. I
am now serene and steady, I took leave of the company, being to set
out next morning.
TUESDAY 29 MARCH. Iset out in the fly, or rather post-coach,
all alone. I breakfasted at , T where to my astonishment I heard
that Wilkes had been elected for Middlesex. So fascinating is success
7 Probably Bensington, which was the stage between Oxford and Henley.
Bensington, 29 March 1768 157
that I began to quit the determinations of my own reason, and to
imagine him really a patriot and like a Roman whom
mobilium turba Quiritium
Certat tergeminis toller e honoribus. 8
But a little reflection soon cured me of this. After breakfast I was
joined by a jolly London justice who had lands in the neighbourhood.
He and I were very hearty.
At Henley we came out and went and looked at the machine with
which they are levelling a very steep hill on the London side^ by
digging it down and throwing the earth into the hollow at the bottom.
This is done without horses, by two carts which are contrived to work
as buckets in a well. There is a road cut down the hill, they having
begun at the foot of it, and cut upwards as they removed the earth. A
number of men dig the earth and throw it into the cart, to which a
strong rope is fixed, which is wound upon a horizontal wheel above
the face of the hill yet entire. The moment the cart is full, a bell is
rung to warn the man at the bottom of the hill, who then lets go the
cart which he has emptied into the hollow. Then two men go, one on
each side of the loaded cart (or but one for each cart, I forget which.
I now recollect the two men on each side of the loaded cart only set
it a-going) for a little way and push it along; then one returns to his
companions, and one goes along with the cart, guiding it till he gets
to the brink of the deep bottom; then he has a long piece of wood
fixed to the cart, but so as to be twisted about. This he twists till he
fixes the end of it between two spokes of the left wheel, and so stops
the cart.
In the mean time, the weight of the loaded cart going down the hill
pulls up the empty cart, which is filled, and then pulls up the other.
The wheel to which the rope is fixed is so made as not to turn too
quickly; so it lets down the cart at a moderate pace. At three or four
different places, there are across the road double horizontal trees, or
long pieces of wood, which are fixed by swinging ligatures or inser-
tions in notches to a post. Upon these trees the rope is put to preserve
it from trailing and being rubbed on the hill. The man who guides
8 "The crowd of fickle voters strives to exalt to the highest honours" (Horace,
Odes, Li. 7-8).
158 Henley, 29 March 1768
each, cart runs now and then a little before it. He who goes down, runs
to draw out the tree on one side to receive the rope. He who goes up
runs to draw out the tree to receive the rope on the other side; and as
the one side is drawn out, the other falls in, and it is so contrived that
by these means the ropes are always kept at a proper elevation. This
method was invented lately by a dissenting clergyman at Henley. 9 It
is exceedingly useful, by making that be done by two men which
would require a great number of horses and oxen.
When I came to Sandhill, 1 I quitted the coach and took a post-
chaise and drove to Eton. I went into the college and walked about
very agreeably, repeating Mr. Gray's verses, and as I looked at the
statue of King Henry, I thought of
grateful science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade.
I then returned to my chaise and drove to Windsor. It was truly ele-
vating to ascend that noble highth. When I enjoyed the prospect, I
repeated Gray's lines:
And ye, who from the lofty brow
Of Windsor's highths th' expanse below, &c. 2
I surveyed the rooms with solid ancient taste. When I was shown the
armour of David King of Scotland my . . . 3
Brentford, [then] home. Sallied [out in search of ] Kitty. Borrowed
[money] from Matthew; raged. Then Dun's, left watch and purse,
and had [only a] crown. Wanted two [whores] like Bolingbroke. Got
red-haired hussy; went to Bob Derry's, had brandy and water. She
went for companion; found her not. Then once. Then home with her.
Watchman lighted us, and she paid penny. Horrid room; no fire, no
curtains, dirty sheets, &c. All night; three here.
WEDNESDAY 30 MARCH. About six in the morning I decamped.
I was despicable in my own opinion for having been in the very sink of
The Rev. Humphry Gainsborough, a brother of the painter.
1 Probably Boswell meant Salthill.
2 These, and the lines above, are slightly misquoted from Gray's "Ode on a Dis-
tant Prospect of Eton College," 11. 3-6.
3 Here six pages have been torn from the Journal. The rest of this entry is sup-
plied by the Notes for this day, which by chance have survived.
London, 30 March 1 768 159
vice. I walked about a while and looked at the windows which had
been broken by the mob. 4 1 then came home, washed, shifted, and had
my hair combed. Then called on Sir John Dick a moment. Then went
to Giardini's in Queen Anne Street, Cavendish Square, and called for
Signor Baretti. On my road to him I was a little faint, so I stepped
into a chairman's public house and drank a glass of usquebaugh.
Baretti was abed and bid the boy tell me he was not well. I made him
be roused, and, when I had asked him all how he did, I found why he
had been so restive. It seems one Mr. Bousfield lived in the same street
with me. Baretti had called at his door, and met with a very rude
reception, and all the time he supposed this Bousfield to be me; and so
he had gone and abused me to all our common acquaintance. What
confirmed him in this idea was that Davies 5 had told him that I was
angry at a passage in his Account of Italy where he abuses the writers
in the English newspapers in favour of Corsica. 6 However, I soon un-
deceived him, and then he gave me my breakfast in good humour. I
found his manners exceedingly rough, which had not disgusted me
when I saw him at Venice, because I was so happy to find there a
great admirer of Mr. Samuel Johnson. He and I walked over the way
to Mr. Wilton's and saw the noble monument . . . 7
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Great portions have been torn from the re-
mainder of Boswell's Journal describing his stay in London, and no
dates are given in what survives. Twelve pages have been torn away
at this point, and the Memorandum for 30 March is very cryptic:
4 On its return from Brentford after electing Wilkes on 28 March, the mob had
compelled all householders to illuminate their windows on penalty of having
them broken. They attempted to storm the Mansion House (the Lord Mayor's
residence), and broke every pane of glass in Lord Bute's house. On the night of
29 March the disturbance was renewed, and many more windows broken.
5 Thomas Davies, at whose bookshop Johnson and Boswell had met in 1763.
6 Baretti had written to Boswell on 4 March to congratulate him on his "delight-
ful book," but also to complain that he had been unfair to the Genoese. Baretti
added that he hated to see them libelled, "especially in favour of the Corsicans,
who upon the very face of your book do not appear to be anything better than
bloody-minded savages."
7 Probably the monument to General Wolfe, now in Westminster Abbey. Joseph
Wilton, the father of Chambers's future wife (p. 146/2.6), did not complete it
until 1772, but he had been at work on it for many years.
160 London, 30 March to 20 April 1 768
"Dined Great Piazza. Sent Matthew for Black. Down to Westminister.
Two naked. 'Ah, 'tis the barber, he's a clever one.' " On 6 April, ac-
cording to The London Chronicle, Boswell presided at a celebration
honouring Paoli's birthday, which was so successful that "animated
with universal ideas of liberty" and an extraordinary number of
toasts the group formed itself into a Corsican Club to meet annually
on that day. The remaining fragments of the fully written Journal
follow.]
. . . He came to me this morning, and a terrible operation he had
of it; and after all was obliged to leave so much of the nail in till he
should get the proud flesh brought down. 8 He was an old, formal, lean
man, pretty tall, in a brown coat and red waistcoat and long light-
coloured bob-wig. He actually told me that he had always a turn for
this profession, and when a boy used to get apples from the maids for
cutting their nails. He was a Methodist-, and whined grievously, giv-
ing one no comfort, but making the pain seem worse than it really
was, though I do not think he had anything of a quack. But I shall
know that when paying time comes.
I called this morning on Mrs. Macaulay. 9 She was denied, but her
servant came running after me: "Sir, my mistress is at home to Mr.
8 Boswell had had trouble with ingrown toe-nails since his trip to Corsica. They
were probably acquired by walking along mountain trails in riding-boots.
9 Catherine Macaulay, the Whig historian, whose footman Johnson invited to
sit down with her at dinner to test her republican principles. She was a friend
of the American cause and visited Washington at Mt. Vernon in 1785. This was
BoswelFs first meeting with her. In 1763, on the appearance of the first volume
of her History of England, he had satirized her in his Ten-Lines-a-Day Verses
(30 November 1763):
Like a Dutch vrouw, all shapeless, pale, and fat.
That hugs and slabbers her ungainly brat,
Our Catherine sits sublime o'er steaming tea,
And takes her dear Republic on her knee:
Sings it all songs that ever yet were sung,
And licks it fondly with her length of tongue.
This remained pretty much his private opinion of the lady, but he was now
placed under the restraint of politeness, first by the fact that Dilly was their
common publisher, and secondly by Mrs. Macaulay's having volunteered a con-
stitution for Corsica, in the form of an open letter to Paoli,
London, 30 March to 20 April 1 768 161
Boswell." I was shown into her study where she was sitting in a kind
of Spanish dress. Two gentlemen were with her, who went away. She
was very complimentative to me, but formal and affected, and she
whined about liberty as an old Puritan would whine about grace. In
short, I was rather disgusted with her.
I then drove in a hackney-coach to Billy's, where I was to dine. He
had a company for me. He introduced me to Mr. Burgh, a Scotsman,
master of an academy at Newington Green, who had written a very
warm commendation of my Account of Corsica in a letter to The Lon-
don Chronicle signed "Philopaolus." Mr. Burgh is the author of The
Dignity of Human Nature, Crito, &c. He is a stiff, positive man, know-
ing, however, and shrewd. The next man I was introduced to was Mr.
Ryland, master of an academy at Northampton, and a dissenting
clergyman; a bold Briton with a very strong voice and much zeal. He
has published a little book on mechanics, and is publishing packs of
cards on all the sciences. The next was the Reverend Dr. Robertson,
author of An Attempt to Explain the Words, Reason, Person, &c., who
honestly resigned his living because he became convinced that several
of the Articles to which he had subscribed were not true. Mr. Gum-
ming, the Quaker, was there too; 1 and the Reverend Mr. Mayo, who I
found was the person who had taken upon him to make some altera-
tions in my language in the Account of Corsica, but which a violent
letter from me to Dilly had prevented, all but one or two; and lucky
was it, for sad alterations they were. After we were set down to dinner,
Dr. Wayman, a physician in the city, also came. It was a most curious
company. The most direct compliments were paid to me, without the
least delicacy. "Dr. Wayman, this is Mr. Boswell, author of the Ac-
count of Corsica" WAYMAN. "Mr. Boswell is a very respectable char-
acter!" Such broad hints as these were thrown about. Dr. Robertson
was also praised for his conduct. We had a good substantial dinner,
after . . . 2
. . . Another morning Willison the painter called upon me. 3 Mr.
1 The fighting Quaker. He was a private merchant of London who persuaded the
Government to allow him to lead an armed expedition into Senegal, which
drove out the French and established British trading supremacy there.
2 Fourteen pages have been torn out here. What remains was clearly not the
record of a single day, but a "review."
8 George Willison had painted Boswell's portrait at Rome in 1765.
1 62 London, 30 March to 20 April 1 768
Ryland of Northampton happened then to be with me. He and Willi-
son began to dispute. Ryland was all enthusiasm, all in generals.
Willison was slow, and wanted to bring him to particulars. Ryland
boasted of his son Jack, his proficiency in learning, his excellent prin-
ciples both in politics and morals. 4 "Well, but," said Willison, "what
do you intend to make of him?" "Make of him?" cried Ryland, "I
will make nothing of him. Would you have me cramp his inclina-
tions, fetter the free-born mind? No, Sir!" "But," said Willison, "do
you intend him for the Church or " "Church!" roared Ryland.
"No, Sir to cringe to a despicable lord or duke, who has only the
accidents of birth and fortune to recommend him, to be an utter syco-
phant, a fellow destitute of every noble sentiment?" "But, Sir," said
Willison, "what profession, I say, what profession do you intend him
for?" "Profession!" cried Ryland. "Why, Sir, a citizen of the world, a
lover of his country, a friend of mankind. One who knows the dignity
of human nature. Such a mind, Sir, such a soul, is beyond all that a
painter can show." I all the while' fanned the fire, sometimes joining
Willison, sometimes Ryland, being like to burst out with a peal of
laughter. Willison, with the Scotch sneer, snuffed at Ryland as at a
great English fool, and Ryland strutted with the step of Costar Pear-
main in The Recruiting Officer, despising Willison as a poor spiritless
artist who knew nothing of sublime philosophy. Another morning I
met Lord Mountstuart at Sir John Dick's . . . 5
I was really put in a passion,, and told them I was resolved to pun-
ish them, and would go immediately to Justice Fielding's. 1 accord-
ingly placed a ?watchman as sentry upon the house, and then actu-
ally went to the blind Justice's. A very decent, civil man came out to
me; I suppose he was one of the clerks. I told him the trick that had
4 John, Ryland, though only fifteen years old, began about this time to teach in
his father's academy. He is said to have learned Hebrew at the age of five, and
Greek before he was nine. Like his father, he became a distinguished Baptist
minister.
The manuscript breaks off completely at this point, four pages having been
torn out. The last page can be partly recovered from the "offset" on the blank
page following. The dots indicate unrecoverable words, and the question marks
doubtful readings.
n Sir John Fielding, half-brother to the novelist, and blind, apparently from
birth. He served as a justice of the peace in Bow Street.
London, 30 March to 20 April 1 768 1 63
been put upon me. He said I could have no immediate redress, for, as
I had given her the money out of my own hand, it was no theft. I had
therefore no other method but to prosecute her for a debt in a ...
court of law, "which," said he ... "I suppose you would not
choose." I asked him what I Powed him for his good advice. "Nothing
at all, Sir," said he. This office of Fielding's is really an admirable
institution. I Pposted home, and thought no more of it.
[EDITORIAL NOTE: Here the fully written Journal breaks off. For
the remainder of Boswell's stay in London we have only two dis-
jointed fragments of the condensed diary, the first covering 21 April
to 16 May, and the other 20 to 22 May. The first fragment, though
scrappy and obscure, is of the greatest interest and importance, as it
probably records more meetings with famous men than any other
portion of equal length in the whole Yale collection. Boswell's "roar-
ing" having had its usual unhappy consequence, he was now confined
to his room, "suffering severely for immorality" as he wrote to Tem-
ple on 26 April; and the great men of the literary and political world
came to pay their respects to the author of Corsica, the book of the
hour. Lord Lyttelton fan historian himself) called twice to discuss
the possibility of aiding the Corsicans; old General Oglethorpe, Dr.
Johnson, Baretti made their visits; and Sir John Pringle brought the
most famous of Americans, Dr. Franklin, to dine.
[The cause of Corsican independence was in great danger at this
time, London being filled with rumors, and true ones, that France was
about to take over Genoa's claims to the Island and to subdue it. Bos-
well exerted himself on behalf of the Corsicans through his usual
medium of newspaper "inventions," and also started to make a col-
lection of essays by various hands,, which was finally published in
December 1768 as British Essays in Favour of the Brave Corsicans.
His affair with Zelide came to an abrupt end when a stinging letter
from her prompted Boswell to call them as incompatible as thunder
and lightning.]
THURSDAY 21 APRIL. Lor d Ly ttelton sat an hour ; talked much
of Corsica. . . . Bid me be well informed; so I [would] show best
my friendship [for Corsica] . Fine interview. In great pain, afternoon.
164 London, 26 April 1768
[Received c. 26 April, Johnson to Bos well] 7
Oxford, 23 March 1768
MY DEAR BOSWELL, I have omitted a long time to write to you,
without knowing very well why. I could now tell why I should not
write; for who would write to men who publish letters of their friends
without their leave? 8 Yet I write to you in spite of my caution to tell
you that I shall be glad to see you, and that I wish you would empty
your head of Corsica, which I think has filled it rather too long. But,
at all events, I shall be glad, very glad to see you. I am, Sir, yours
affectionately,
SAM. JOHNSON.
[Boswell to Johnson] 9
London, 26 April 1 768
MY DEAR SIR, I have received your last letter, which, though
very short and by no means complimentary, yet gave me real pleas-
ure, because it contains these words, U I shall be glad, very glad to see
you." Surely you have no reason to complain of my publishing a
single paragraph of one of your letters; the temptation to it was so
strong. An irrevocable grant of your friendship, and your dignifying
my desire of visiting Corsica with the epithet of "a wise and noble
curiosity," are to me more valuable than many of the grants of kings.
But how can you bid me "empty my head of Corsica?" My noble-
minded friend, do you not feel for an oppressed nation bravely strug-
gling to be free? Consider fairly what is the case. The Corsicans never
received any kindness from the Genoese. They never agreed to be sub-
ject to them. They owe them nothing; and when reduced to an abject
state of slavery by force, shall they not rise in the great cause of liberty
and break the galling yoke? And shall not every liberal soul be warm
for them? Empty my head of Corsica! Empty it of honour, empty it of
7 Boswell explains in printing this letter in The Life of Johnson (26 April 1768)
that it had gone to Scotland, and had been sent cm to him in London,
8 See p. 145. In the Life (May 1768), Boswell mentions that; ho asked Johnson if
it would be improper to publish his letters after his death, and Johnson replied:
"Nay, Sir, when I am dead you may do as you will."
9 Printed in The Life of Johnson.
London, 26 April 1768 165
humanity, empty it of friendship, empty it of piety. No! while I live,
Corsica and the cause of the brave Islanders shall ever employ much
of my attention, shall ever interest me in the sincerest manner. . . .
I am, &c.
JAMES BOSWELL.
SUNDAY i MAY. Much better. Had written to Paoli and pledged
honour no more vice, yet the scent of eau sans pareille would revive
[thoughts of some] elegant Lais. But I repressed [them]; I forfeit
more healthy and worthy joys. I read Lord Lyttelton's St. Paul, and
the Bible, and was well. Guthrie, Hamilton^ and Maconochie dined.
I was well. Guthrie said General Oglethorpe's mind and also Lord
Elibank's [were] rich but like upholsterer's shop: carpets high up,
glasses below, &C. 1 I talked of not writing till the very day a paper
was needed; "because then," said I, "one runs downhill. Till then,
one is labouring up the hill, but one is at the top the moment the point
of necessity is reached. To write before that is double fatigue; but I
must do so for my clients, lest running too quick downhill I miss
something. Slowly going up, I take all." . . .
MONDAY 2 MAY. Morning, letter from Zelide; termagant! 2 . . ,
Sent note to David Hume. He came, was most placid. Said it required
great goodness of disposition to withstand baleful effects of Christian-
ity. 3 . . . Just then entered Mr. Johnson. I jumped [up] and em-
1 The simile may have been suggested by Boswell's surroundings: his landlord
was an upholsterer. James Edward Oglethorpe, full General in the British
army, was a grand old man who had fought against the Turks under Prince
Eugene and had founded the Colony of Georgia as a refuge for poor debtors. He
had sought out Boswell of his own accord and had asked to be allowed to shake
the author of the Account of Corsica by the hand. Patrick Murray, fifth Lord
Elibank, was a Scottish advocate and patron of literature. Johnson once wrote to
him: "I never met you without going away a wiser man" (Tour to the Hebrides,
12 September 1773).
2 Boswell enclosed her letter, which has not been recovered, in one to Temple
(14 May 1768) and commented: "Could any actress at any of the theatres attack
one 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?"
(Letters of James Boswell, i. 159). Three years later, she married her brothers'
former tutor, Monsieur de Charriere.
8 Hume then left. In his letter to Temple of 14 May, Boswell remarked about
166 London., 2 May 1768
braced [him, crying] "Thou great man!" JOHNSON. "Don't call
names." He would not dine; had bad spirits. I run on about the praise
of my book. JOHNSON. "Sir, your book is very well. The Account may
be had more from other books. But the Tour is extremely well. It
entertains everybody. Sir, everybody who wishes you well [is]
pleased." Asked him to review. JOHNSON. u No, one ass [should not]
scratch [another]."' 1 . . . [Talk of] liberty. JOHNSON. "Sir, they
mistake [in ranting about] universal liberty without [considering]
private. Political liberty is only as many private [persons] as can be
happy. Liberty of press not much. Suppose you and I and two hundred
more restrained: what then? What proportion?" BOSWELL. "Ay, but
[suppose] ten thousand [restrained] from reading us?" JOHNSON.
"Yes, they are the wretches [to be pitied.] " . . . 5
TUESDAY 3 MAY .... Lord Lyttelton had been with Lord
Hardwicke. Bid me not come to people's doors as minister [from
Corsica] . Get introduced; speak as hinting, not as pointing out. Mean-
time, Corsican Club [would] make good blood, LYTTELTON. "Don't
appear too hot-headed." . . .
FRIDAY 6 MAY. General Oglethorpe a little, morning; then
Frank Stewart. Then Lord Drummond; eat eggs, sat till General
Oglethorpe came, who said mob was now [the] best blood, [being]
old families sunk: Mortimers sweeping streets. Coffee, Great Clarke,
morning; who read Corsica believe you thus.
him: "David is really amiable. I always regret to him his unlucky principles,
and he smiles at my faith. But 1 have a hope which he has not, or pretends not
to have" (Letters of James Boswcll, L 160).
4 Johnson was remembering the Latin proverb, "Mutuum mtili scabunt."
5 This passage is expanded in The Life of Johnson as follows: "He talked in his
usual style with a rough contempt for popular liberty, 'They make a rout about
universal liberty without considering that all that is to be valued, or indeed can
be enjoyed by individuals, is private liberty. Political liberty is good only so far
as it prodxices private liberty. Now, Sir, there is the liberty of the press, which
you know is a constant topic. Suppose you and I and two hundred more were
restrained from printing our thoughts: what then? What proportion would that
restraint upon us bear to the private happiness of the nation?' "
6 Boswell was discovering that his chosen method of writing laid him open to the
charge of personal fatuity (see Gray's comment, p. 9177.8), He comforted
himself all his life with the story of Dr. Clarke, the famous theologian, which
London, i o May 1768 167
TUESDAY 10 MAY. The old General, Home of Billy, and Maco-
nochie, forenoon. You was too eager with the worthy General and
raged on subjecting inferiors, and Home joined. You was sorry at
opposing too much the worthy man, so full of age and spirit. Maco-
nochie stayed and eat a steak, and you and he studied President's
speech [on the Douglas cause]. No philosophy or wit today.
THURSDAY 12 MAY. Mr. Home of Billy [called]. Told me of
Percivall Pott. 7 Saw him; [was] quite firm. Read much.
SATURDAY 14 MAY. Mr. Kennedy, then Sir John Dick and Cap-
tain Meadows. I talked of some things though [they are] in my book.
I have observed Mr. Johnson do so. Almost every man you meet is,
either from not having read or [from] having forgotten, just as if he
had never seen a book. Sir John Pringle, Dr. Franklin, Mr. Rose,
[and] Mr. Burgh dined. All was elegant. You maintained [author
should] never correct [his] book. Sir John opposed. "But," said I,
"Lord Kames has made [his] Elements of Criticism so 'tis not the
same book." SIR JOHN. "Then it's another book" very well. Burgh
[was] always saying, "Ah, that came off so fine and dry!" and Sir
John [sat] with leg crossed and [talked with] shrewd gravity and
satisfaction. You was quite happy and pleased as a man. Burgh and
Rose drank tea. Franklin asked whether infidels or Protestants had
done most to pull down Popery. We disputed the price of Robertson's
book, 8 [and] the good done by preaching; [agreed] the English tone
superior to Scotch, [possibly because there was] more music here,
except whistling.
SUNDAY 15 MAY. Mr. Bosville called and talked quite like one
of his letters. 9 Messrs. Dillys drank tea. All turned on Robertson's
book and the trade. At night Baretti came. He was pleasanter. Was for
he printed In the Dedication to The Life of Johnson: "It is related of the great
Dr. Clarke that when in one of his leisure hours he was unbending himself with
a few friends in the most playful and frolicsome manner he observed Beau Nash
approaching, upon which he suddenly stopped: 'My boys, (said he,) let us be
grave; here comes a fool.' The world, my friend, I have found to be a great fool."
7 A famous surgeon, who helped to revise surgical practice of the day. Pott's
disease and Pott's fracture take their name from him.
8 Robertson had just arrived in London with three large quarto volumes of his
History of the Reign of Charles V, for which he obtained 4500.
9 That is, in a hearty, shrewd, amusing manner.
168 London, 15 May 1768
answering Kenrick. Had argued with Johnson: "As you expelled
Lady Macclesfield from society, why not so bury Wilkes, Kenrick,
Campbell, &c.? [If you succeeded] you would have done real serv-
ice." JOHNSON. "Sir, I don't know but I've been wrong." 1 Baretti
talked strongly against our liberty. BARETTI. "Had you been content
like other nations to have just jogged on, with sometimes a good king,
sometimes a worse, you'd have done very well, as other nations. But
to please your mad notions of claims of right, you did an unjust and
barbarous thing to turn away your king, and sacrificed four hundred
of the best families, and by restraining the king's power so much you
force him and his ministers to load you with taxes to purchase power
which they ought to have."
He argued for the Italian ceremonies. "They are innocent," said
he, "and our people are better so than yours, who get into taverns
with whores and bottles and pots of beer." "But," said I, "the mind
is hurt by that kind of idolatry, and drawn from just notions of God."
"Nay," said he, "has any common people just notions of God?" "Yes,"
said I, "the people here." "No," said he, "they never think of God but
with 'damn' joined to it." He was really well tonight.
MONDAY 16 MAY. Donaldson, morning, and Sir John Dick.
Then Captain Bosville, not a bit spoiled. [In] afternoon [was] old
John Frail a little; quite in love with opposite lady. She signed for a
note. 2 1 sent it; pretty answer. I have really strange fortune for adven-
tures. But let's see .
FRIDAY 20 MAY. Called at Lord Mansfield's. 3 I was received.
My Lord came forward and took [me] by the hand very courteously:
"Mr. Boswell, your servant. I am glad I was at home. I should have
been very sorry not to have seen you." I said, "My Lord, your Lord-
1 William Kenrick had attacked Johnson through Boswell in a pamphlet on
Corsica. Boswell first intended to answer it, but Johnson persuaded him that to
do so would only keep the matter alive. Lady Macclesfield was charged with
having treated her supposed son, the poet Richard Savage, with great cruelty;
Johnson had excoriated her in his Life of Savage.
2 That is, she made a sign for him to send her a note.
3 William Murray, first Baron (later first Earl of) Mansfield, Lord Chief Justice
of the King's Bench. One of the greatest of all English lawyers, he was also a
fine orator, a Scotsman, a bitter rival of Chatham's, and unpopular with the
masses for his juridical treatment of Wilkee.
London, 20 May 1 768 1 69
ship never took any man by the hand who is more truly proud to
have the honour of waiting upon your Lordship than I am." After
talking of my having been ill, thus went the dialogue. MANSFIELD.
u You have travelled a great deal, Sir." BOSWELL. "Why, yes, my Lord,
I was very fond of seeing as much as I could, and travelled as much as
my father would allow me." MANSFIELD. "Pray, Sir, how did you
leave your father?" BOSWELL. "Very well, my Lord." MANSFIELD. "I
am glad of it; he is a very respectable man." BOSWELL. "Indeed, my
Lord, he is a very conscientious judge. He is content to do his duty.
He does not seek to be known beyond his own circle." MANSFIELD.
"Ay, but he is known here, especially among a certain class." BOS-
WELL. "Why, this great Douglas cause has made all our judges known
here by publishing their speeches." MANSFIELD. "I have not read a
word of it. But your father has been known in many other cases."
(Here he paid my father several compliments of which I do not re-
collect the precise terms.)
I was determined if possible to be at him on the great cause, so
began again. BOSWELL. "These speeches have been read over all
here." MANSFIELD. "If one thought them authentic, one would like to
look at them. Pray, how are they?" BOSWELL. "Why, my Lord, Almon
first published an edition, very imperfect indeed and so often non-
sense, but very genuine so far as they went. After this, a writer's clerk
who had taken full notes sent each judge his own speech to look over
and make what corrections he pleased. Some of 'em have altered a
good deal. I may say there are thirteen looked over by them. Lord
Kames, who though I have a great regard for him, I must say made a
very poor speech " MANSFIELD. "Ay?" BOSWELL. "Yes, my Lord, he
was taken at unawares. He was clear upon Mr. Douglas's side, and
he thought it would go without speaking cela va sans dire and
he would only vote. But, being called upon unprepared, he made
really a poor figure, which was a pity, as a man of my Lord Kames's
genius might have made a very fine speech." MANSFIELD. "Yes, in-
deed." BOSWELL. "Well, my Lord, being sensible that he had appear-
ed so ill, he would not meddle with his speech, and I may say it is
now better than he made it, though a very poor one. Old Lord Strich-
en (Fraser), whom your Lordship may have heard of, would not
correct his speech. He said with great spirit, 'No. I have given accord-
1 70 London, 20 May 1 768
ing to my conscience. I will not appeal to the world. If those who have
given their opinions on the other side want a justification, let them
publish. I want no justification.' Lord Strichen spoke like a plain
country gentleman. Lord Alemoor (Pringle) made a very eloquent
speech." MANSFIELD. "That's a very respectable character." BOSWELL.
"My father made a solid, sensible speech: a few sound principles of
law and a few reflections on the capital facts, without going into the
wide field of circumstance, which is endless."
MANSFIELD. "I was sorry for the manner in which that cause was
decided; so much time employed in a question of fact, when I should
have decided it at a sitting. And such a division. It makes one suspect
there was something more in that cause than the cause itself." BOS-
WELL. "Why, my Lord, that cause has done a great deal of harm.
There was in particular the Lord President. A terrible outcry has
been raised, though to be sure most unjustly, in regard of his giving
an opinion contrary to his conscience; but, my Lord, it was not well
in the president of a court to employ his supposed superior talents in
making a violent harangue for the Pursuers. He even says in direct
terms that he will not touch on the arguments on the other side. Now,
my Lord, that is very dangerous. And we can prove one judge chang-
ed by this harangue. Old Charles Erskine, the Justice-Clerk, whom
your Lordship must have known, his son, who has the title of Lord
Barjarg, actually wrote a new speech. We can bring one clerk who
wrote for him a speech for Mr. Douglas, and another who wrote for
him one for Duke Hamilton. He took a cold and kept the house a day.
I was surprised with Veitch (Lord Eliock), a sound-headed fellow.
Burnett (Lord Monboddo) made an admirable speech, and with
great dignity, after they had all spoken and it was in vain to try any
more. It was just victrix causa dels placuit, sed victa Catoni." 4
MANSFIELD. "There are very respectable opinions on both sides."
BOSWELL. "Yes, indeed. But the cause has done a great deal of harm.
When the people of a country lose their confidence in their judges,
4 Lucan, Pharsalia, i. 128:
Victorious Caesar by the gods was crowned,
The vanquished party was by Cato owned.
Nicholas Rowe.
London, 20 May 1 768 171
and even hint anything against them, it is terrible. Now, there is
Dundas, the President; a most dreadful outcry has been raised against
him, though certainly most unjustly." MANSFIELD. "Ay, and does it
continue?" BOSWELL. "Yes, my Lord. His manner was so violent; and
then unluckily his whole speech from beginning to end is without the
least foundation in the evidence. He has read it with very little atten-
tion and trusted to the Pursuers' memorial, which is a most unfair
paper." MANSFIELD. "As I told you, I have not read a word of the
cause." BOSWELL. "I dare say not, my Lord." MANSFIELD. "I have not,
upon my honour." (He said this like one gentleman speaking to an-
other. A man of curiosity would have looked at it.) "I have their
great quartos lying here upon my table, but I have been so much
employed with other things that I have not had time to open them."
(I was highly pleased to find that he allowed me to talk so freely and
even seemed very desirous to hear me, for when his servant came in
and asked if his chariot should wait, and I rose up and was going
away, he said, "Sit still, Mr. Boswell." So I thought I would do all the
good I could.)
BOSWELL. "My Lord, the unhappy thing was that our judges spoke
in so different a manner. Lord Lyttelton said their speeches were just
pleadings on each side." MANSFIELD. "That's very bad. My Lord Lyt-
telton, I am sure, will determine very candidly; he is a very worthy
man." BOSWELL. "I wish to God, my Lord, that everybody thought as
Lord Lyttelton." (I then repeated his ideas, which seemed to please
Lord Mansfield.) "But I fancy, my Lord, the peers in general will not
interfere," MANSFIELD. "I don't know that. There never was a cause
where they could do it better." BOSWELL. "I should be sorry to see the
peers in general take upon them to judge in a cause of property."
MANSFIELD. "To be sure," BOSWELL. "What made the judges on the
Hamilton side so obnoxious was their maintaining that there was no
law in the cause. Now, your Lordship sees that, although gentlemen
without doors are not lawyers, they are still judges of that great prin-
ciple of law filiation on which we all depend; and every man is
alarmed at the danger of that principle being taken away. When a
man is called, 'Sir, you must stand trial for your birthright,' [he
replies,] 'Very well. I put myself upon my country. I rest upon my
filiation.' [Then he is told] 'No^ Sir, [there is] no law. You must
1 72 London., 20 May 1 768
bring proofs, and the plaintiffs must bring proofs; and then it will be
judged whose proofs are strongest.' My Lord, when you thus deny a
man the great privilege of filiation, you are taking the very pavement
from under his feet. You are depriving him of half his cause." MANS-
FIELD. "You are so." BOSWELL. "There was now poor Sir John Stewart;
why, all the strange suggestions of his wild fancy must be made sus-
picions against him." 5 MANSFIELD. "I did not know Sir John." BOS-
WELL. "No, my Lord? Your Lordship knew Lady Jane?" MANSFIELD.
u No, but I was once able to [do] her a piece of service" 6 BOSWELL. "I
asked my father where I was born. He mentioned a house. I asked an
old woman who was in the house at the birth, and she said another
house. My Lord, if my birth had been scrutinized, my father and this
old woman would have been declared perjured, as contradicting one
another." MANSFIELD. "Very true." BOSWELL. "Every man must be
alarmed. He runs back in his own mind and sees what difficulties
must occur in such questions. We had a very busy winter with politi-
cal causes." MANSFIELD. "The fewer political causes you have the
better. They shake your court." BOSWELL. "They do so. I fear this
great Douglas cause has been something of a political one." MANS-
FIELD. "I imagine so. You are making great improvements at Edin-
burgh." BOSWELL. "Yes. We have a Theatre Royal, too." MANSFIELD.
"I believe you wrote the prologue at the opening of it. I assure you I
admired it exceedingly." (BOSWELL. Here I told him all how Ross had
applied to me, &c., &c.) 7 MANSFIELD. "Upon my word, it was a very
pretty copy of verses, and I like the judicious style of it so concilia-
ting. I'm sure it must have done him a great deal of good." 8 1 went
home and felt myself in most admirable humour. N.B. Convinced
him of importance of Corsica. 9
5 Douglas's father. The evidence he gave at various times was self-contradictory,
and even Douglas partisans admitted that it looked as if he had forged certain
important letters.
6 He got her a pension of 300 from the Crown at a time when her fortunes were
at a very low ebb.
7 See p. 115 n.6.
8 Boswell treasured this compliment, and quoted it years afterwards in the
memoir of himself which he wrote for The European Magazine.
9 Boswell was apparently mistaken here. Mansfield assured Choiseul, the French
minister of war and foreign affairs, "that the English Ministry were too weak
London, 21 May 1768 173
SATURDAY 21 MAY. I dined at Lord Eglinton's, he and I and
John Ross Mackye, very well. Evening^ Lord Mountstuart's; much
serious and open conversation. Our friendship quite renewed.
SUNDAY 22 MAY. Went in the morning to Lord Mountstuart's;
saw his son; supposed him [one day] John Earl of Bute. I called at
several places, and dined at Mr. Bosville's, quite easy and comforta-
ble. Then drove about and called at doors. Between eight and nine at
night went to Lord Mansfield's, being his levee. Found him alone;
drank a dish of tea with him. He was quite easy with me. Told me the
Anglesey cause was clearly shown to be an imposition by authentic
papers. 1 The week before, he had had a cause of a horse before him. I
pleaded Smith contra Steel. 2 He said there was no time fixed for
redhibition* but a jury would determine just by circumstances; and,
to be sure, a man's having kept a horse two months without offering
him back, and working him too, was virtually passing from his objec-
tion.
In a little, my Lord Oxford came. Then Lord Mansfield assumed
all the state of a chief justice. Went to the opposite side of the room
and sat by my Lord, and kept me down as I tried to speak. I was
etourdi 4 enough to talk of Wilkes, which Lord Mansfield did not
relish. When Lord Oxford went, Lord Mansfield became quite easy
again. Came close to me and resumed his urbanity. I spoke again of
the Douglas cause, but found I had exhausted it.
He spoke (or I did it first, I know not which) of Dempster's plea
of privilege. 5 Said it was an absurd decision. I defended it. "Come,"
and the nation too wise to support them in entering on a war for the sake of
Corsica" (Autobiography of Augustus Henry, third Duke of Grafton, ed. Sir
William Anson, 1898, p. 204),
1 The Anglesey cause was another famous eighteenth-century case of contested
filiation. Smollett inserted an affecting ex parte account of it in Peregrine Pickle.
2 A cause of Boswell's entered in his Consultation Book under the date of 2
February 1767. It concerned a horse.
:i An action to annul the sale of an article and return it to the seller because of
some material defect. Mansfield was mistaken; according to Scottish legal
usage, the buyer had to offer the goods back to the seller within a few days of
their purchase in order for such an action to be valid.
4 Thoughtless or giddy.
5 George Dempster, an old and close friend of Boswell's, was M.P. for the Perth
1 74 London, 22 May 1 768
said he, "how, are they not to judge only by the statute and common
law of Scotland? Well. Had the Scotch Parliament any privilege? No.
How then are they to judge of the privilege of a British Parliament?
Where do they find it?" BOSWELL. "Why, in Blackstone." MANSFIELD.
u You may as well say that candle. He is no rule to them." (I then
harangued, I forget how.) MANSFIELD. "Keep to the point. Answer
me a plain question. Have they any other rule but statute and com-
mon law? "BOSWELL. "No." MANSFIELD. "Well, then, they had noth-
ing to do with such a plea. They might as well have pleaded a statute
of Paoli of Corsica. They should have said, 4 We know nothing of this,'
and so proceeded, or adjourned till they took advice. They had very
near set the two houses of Parliament by the ears, and I can tell you
the Speaker had thoughts of moving to have 'em brought up to answer
for what they had done. And, what was most extraordinary, they not
only decided, but they decided wrong; and I wonder Lord Justice-
Clerk, who heard the debates in Parliament on that subject, could go
so far wrong. They were to proceed, and let the prosecutor be answer-
able for what he did, as Mr. Dempster might call him before the
House of Commons, the proper judges of privilege."
I asked him if it was advisable for a Scotch counsel to come to the
English bar. "No," said he, "he has not the education for it. A man of
very extraordinary parts may perhaps succeed." I had told him at my
first visit that nothing would tempt me from being Laird of Auchin-
leck, &c.^ and he said, "A very laudable (or a very good) prejudice."
He advised [me] to read Blackstone, and also Burrow's reports. He
said he decided about seven hundred causes a year.
burghs. In 1767 he was charged with having resorted to bribery and corruption
to assure himself a majority for the next election. To postpone his trial he
pleaded privilege as a member of the House of Commons, and the Court of Justi-
ciary sustained his plea, but the House of Lords, upon being appealed to, ordered
the trial to proceed, in terms implying a rebuke to the Court. Dempster's de-
fence was amusing: it was that no statute covered the alleged offence, and that
bribery was not a crime at common law. The Court "repelled" this, but
acquitted him on the ground that it had not been proved that he had been suc-
cessful in his attempt to bribe the electors. Everyone knew, of course, that he
had been successful, and that he had been forced to resort to bribery because his
opponent, Lord Clive, had used the same tactic.
London, 7 June 1 768 1 75
[7 June, Manuscript of The Life of Johnson]*
Soon after this, he supped at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the
Strand with a company whom I collected to meet him. There were
the Reverend Dr. Percy now Bishop of Dromore, 7 Dr. Douglas now
Bishop of Carlisle, Mr. Langton, Dr. Robertson the historian, Dr.
Hugh Blair, and Mr. Thomas Davies, who wished much to be intro-
duced to these eminent Scotch literati; but on the present occasion he
had very little opportunity of hearing them talk, for with much
prudence, for which Johnson afterwards found fault with them, they
hardly opened their lips, and that only to say something which they
were certain would not expose them to animadversion; such was
their anxiety for their fame when in the presence of Johnson. He was
this evening in remarkable vigour of mind and eager to exert himself
in conversation, which he did with great readiness and fluency, but
I am sorry to find that I have preserved but a small part of what passed.
He allowed high praise to Thomson as a poet, but when a gentle-
man said he was also a very good man our moralist contested this
with great warmth, accusing him of gross sensuality and licentious-
ness of manners. . . .
He was vehement against old Dr. Monsey of Chelsea College as
"a fellow who swore and talked bawdy." 8 U I have been often in his
company," said Dr. Percy, "and never heard him swear or talk
bawdy," Mr. Davies, who sat next to Dr. Percy, having after this had
(} The manuscript of The Life of Johnson now at Yale shows the book in all the
stages of its composition, BoswelFs first draft serves as the basic text for this and
later passages, but certain additions and alterations have been retained. Reflec-
tive parts or general comments which appear to be afterthoughts are omitted.
This supper is dated by an entry in Percy's Journal, now in the British Museum.
7 Best remembered as the editor of the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry,
which had appeared in 1765 and which did much to revive interest in older
English literature.
8 A famous eccentric, somewhat like Swift in temperament, who lived to be
ninety-five. It is said that in old age he took savage delight in meeting younger
physicians who were waiting for his appointment and in prophesying that they
would die before he did, which proved to be true so far as most of them were
concerned.
176 London, 7 June 1768
some conversation aside with him, made a discovery which in his
zeal to please Dr. Johnson he eagerly proclaimed aloud from the foot
of the table: "O Sir, I have found out a very good reason why Dr.
Percy never heard Monsey swear or talk bawdy, for he tells me he
never saw him but at the Duke of Northumberland's table." "And so,
Sir," said Johnson loudly to Dr. Percy, "you would shield this fellow
from the charge of swearing and talking bawdy because he did not do
so at the Duke of Northumberland's table. Sir, you might as well say
that you had seen him hold up his hand at the Old Bailey and he
neither swore nor talked bawdy; or that you had seen him in the cart
at Tyburn and he neither swore nor talked bawdy. And is it thus, Sir,
that you presume to contradict what I have related?" Dr. Johnson's
reprimand was uttered in such a manner that Dr. Percy was much
hurt and soon afterwards left the company, of which Johnson did not
take any notice at the time.
Swift having been mentioned, Johnson as usual treated him with
little respect as an author. One or two of our number endeavoured to
support the Dean of St. Patrick's by various arguments. One in partic-
ular praised his Conduct of the Allies. JOHNSON. "Sir, his Conduct of
the Allies is a performance of very little merit." "I don't know, Sir,"
said the gentleman, 9 "you must allow it has strong facts." JOHNSON.
"Why yes, Sir, but what has that to do with the merit of the compo-
sition? In the Sessions paper of the Old Bailey there are strong facts.
Housebreaking is a strong fact, robbery is a strong fact, and murder
is a mighty strong fact, but is great praise due to the historian of those
strong facts? No, Sir. Swift has told what he had to tell distinctly
enough, but that is all. He had to count ten, and he has counted it
right." Then recollecting that Mr. Davies by acting as an informer
had been the occasion of his talking somewhat too harshly to his
friend, Dr. Percy, for which probably when the first ebullition was
over he felt some compunction, he took an opportunity to give him a
hit; so added with a preparatory laugh, "Why, Sir, Tom Davies
might have written The Conduct of the Allies." Poor Tom being thus
suddenly dragged into ludicrous notice in presence of the Scottish
doctors, to whom he was ambitious of appearing to advantage, was
sadly mortified. Nor did the matter rest here; for upon after occasions
9 Dr. Douglas.
London, 7 June 1768 177
whenever he, "statesman all over," 1 assumed an over importance, I
used to hail him "the author of The Conduct of the Allies"
When I called upon Dr. Johnson next morning I found him
highly satisfied with his colloquial prowess the preceding evening.
"Well," said he, "we had good talk." BOSWELL. "Yes, Sir, you tossed
and gored several persons."
The late Alexander Earl of Eglinton, who loved wit more than
wine, and men of genius more than sycophants, had a great admira-
tion of Johnson, but from the remarkable elegance of his own man-
ners was perhaps too delicately sensible of the roughness which often
appeared in Johnson's behaviour. One evening about this time, when
his Lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with Dr.
Robertson and several other literati, he regretted that Johnson had
not been educated with more refinement and lived more in polished
society. "No, no, my Lord," said Signor Baretti, "do with him what
you would, he would always have been a bear." "True," answered
the Earl with a pleasing smile, "but he would have been a dancing
bear." . . .
[EDITORIAL NOTE: On 9 June, Boswell left London to return to
Edinburgh for the summer term of the Court of Session. He divided
his time thereafter mainly between Edinburgh and Auchinleck until
his jaunt to Ireland in the spring of 1769. No journal exists for the
period.]
[Agreement between James Boswell and Margaret Montgomerie] 2
At Edinburgh, the eighth day of August one thousand seven hundred
and sixty-eight years, L, Margaret Montgomerie, sister of the late
James Montgomerie of Lainshaw, Esquire, considering that Mr.
1 Churchill's description of Davies in The Rosciad (11. 321-322) :
Statesman all over! in plots famous grown!
He mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone.
2 This joking contract between Boswell and Ms impoverished first cousin,
Margaret Montgomerie, is important as the first major indication of the ease and
intimacy of their relationship, and also attests to the strength of feeling she was
capable of arousing in him.
178 Edinburgh, 8 August 1768
James Boswell, advocate, my cousin, is at present so much in love
with me that I might certainly have him for my lawful husband if
I choose it, and the said James being of a temper so inconstant that
there is reason to fear that he would repent of his choice in a very short
time, on which account he is unwilling to trust himself in my com-
pany; therefore, I, the said Margaret Montgomerie, hereby agree that
in case I am married to the said James Boswell any time this year, or
insist upon his promise thereto within the said time to take place any
time thereafter, I shall submit to be banished out of Great Britain
during all the days of my life. In witness whereof I have subscribed
this paper written by the said James Boswell.
MARGT. MONTGOMERIE.
[Boswell to Temple]
Auchinleck, 24 August 1 768
MY DEAR TEMPLE, You have good reason to accuse me of neg-
lect 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. 3 When I was abroad he freed me from my promise,
but restricted me not to lose above three guineas at a sitting. I thought
my passion for gaming had been quite gone. But since I came last to
Scotland, I began again to try a game of chance, and I found the
fever still lurking in my veins. (It) seized me for a while, and I
know not how much harm it might have done me had it continued.
But after having recovered myself so as to have lost but 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,
3 Thomas Sheridan was an actor and elocutionist, and father of Richard Brinsley
Sheridan. The promise was made in the summer of 1761, when Sheridan was
giving a series of lectures on English elocution in Edinburgh.
Auchinleck, 24 August 1 768 1 79
from which I am sure I suffer more than you do; and let us hence-
forth keep up a close correspondence, and so live together as much
as possible when at a distance. Your misfortune by the bankruptcy
of Mr. Fenwick Stow really afflicts me. 4 You have a noble spirit not to
be cast down by so many misfortunes. Are you in any immediate
want of money? If you are, I 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? 5 I hope Mrs. Temple is in a
good way. Let me know particularly about her.
I am exceedingly lucky in having escaped the insensible Miss
Blair 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, always half the year in the north of Ireland, her father a
counsellor-at-law with an estate of 1000 a year and above 10,000 in
ready money. Her mother a sensible, well-bred woman. She the
darling of her parents, and no other child but her sister. She is cousin
to some cousins of mine 7 in this county. I was at their house while she
and her father, 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 Ann. Upon my honour, I never was so much in love.
I never was before in a situation to which there was not some objec-
tion. But "here every flower is united," 8 and not a thorn to be found.
But how shall I manage it? They were in a hurry, and are gone home
to Ireland. They were sorry they could not come to see Auchinleck, of
which they had heard a great deal Mary Ann 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,
4 The bankruptcy of Fenwick Stow, who was the grandfather of both Temple
and his wife, cost Temple 1 100 of her marriage portion.
5 Temple had offered to lend him 1000 towards the purchase of a commission,
probably in 1762.
6 Mary Ann Boyd. See Introduction, p. xvii.
7 The Montgomeries of Lainshaw.
8 He had applied the same quotation to Miss Blair only a year before (see p. 81 ).
180 Auchinleck, 24 August 1 768
and I promised to be there in March. In the mean time both the father
and the aunt write to me. What a fortunate fellow am I! What 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 pertinaci?
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,
cautious conduct as with Miss Blair. No, all youthful, warm, natural;
in short, all genuine love. Pray tell me what you think. I have a 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 part of my very 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 u third" edition.
That is no bad circumstance. I shall see in what style the Counsellor
writes., and shall send some elegant present to my lovely mistress.
This is the most agreeable passion I ever felt. Sixteen, 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
licentious 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 intercourse with Mrs. . In short, Maria 1 has me
without any rival. I do hope the period of my perfect felicity as far as
this state of being can afford is now in view.
The affairs of the brave Corsicans interest me exceedingly. Is it
not shocking in France to send a great armament against such a noble
little people? 2 1 have had four letters from the General this summer.
9 "Ill-defended" (Horace, Odes, I. ix. 24).
1 Mary Ann.
2 The French were now intent on making good their claim to Corsica, and were
sending large numbers of troops into the Island.
Auchinleck, 24 August 1768 181
He and his countrymen are resolved to stand to the last. I have hopes
that our Government will interfere. In the mean time by a private
subscription in Scotland, I am this week sending 700 worth of
ordnance. The Carron Company has furnished me them very cheap.
There are two 32 pounders, four 24*5, four i8's^ and twenty 9
pounders, with one hundred fifty ball to each. It is really a tolerable
train of artillery. . . . 3
And now, my dear friend, I trust that you will forgive my long
silence and will be assured that I ever am with the warmest regard,
your affectionate and faithful
JAMES BOSWELL.
[Boswell to Temple]
Edinburgh, 9 December 1 768
MY DEAR TEMPLE, I delay not a post to tell you that I have re-
ceived your letter of the 2 7th November, and that I sincerely sympa-
thize with the gloomy feelings which at present seem to distress you.
Your long silence made rne really uneasy. I did not know what to
think, and I was just going to have written to Mrs. Temple or to Lord
Lisburne to enquire 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 suggested false terrors. Read Epic-
tetus. 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 mis-
fortunes, I believe you have 200 of your own^ which with Mrs.
Temple's 1300 is no inconsiderable fund. Your living is, I believe, 80
a year, which with what you have clear after paying your father's
annuity may enable you to live very comfortably. Be not too anxious
on account of your children. Educate them with good principles and
active habits, and they will make their way through life. I wish you
3 It was later decided to send fewer pieces of ordnance and a greater amount of
ammunition. The shipment reached Leghorn safely, but it is not known whether
Paoli ever received it. According to newspaper reports, almost 20,000 was raised
by subscription and private gift for the Corsicans before their submission In the
summer of 1769. Boswell was directly or indirectly responsible for all of this aid.
1 82 Edinburgh, g December 1 768
joy of your son, and I most heartily accept the office of being his god-
father; I give you ray 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 essential 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. 4 " You admire our Scottish authors too much. But you
know, my worthy friend, we differ just enough to enliven us and
afford some exercise for 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 your-
self to suppose that Lord Lisburne will do nothing more for you. He is
your relation. Keep well with him, and things may come about. Let
me beseech you, Temple, not to fix your desire 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 altum
Nimis urgendo. 5
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
favour of fortune. Pardon me, my friend, if I write thus. I am sure I
mean it well. I should like much to have you settled in the English
Chapel here. But I believe the income is less than at your present
residence. I shall, however, consider of it, and inquire as to particulars
and when there will be an opening. Keep up your spirits, and pray let
me know exactly the state of your affairs. Be assured that my friend-
ship 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 under-
stand that when terms came to be considered, neither answered the
expectations which they had formed of each other's circumstances,
4 Of his History of England. Actually, Hume was engaged in revising rather
than continuing it.
5 Horace, Odes, II. x. 1-2 ("nimis" for "semper"): "You will steer your life's
course better, Licinius, if you do not hazard yourself too often on the deep."
Edinburgh, 9 December 1768 183
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, &c., I had made such a joke
of my love for the Heiress in every company that she was piqued and
did not believe that I had any serious intentions. That in the mean
time, 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 coldness. Yet the Nabob told me
upon his honour and salvation that he had it from one who had it
from Miss Blair'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 the same coldness, and not a line would she write.
Then came a kind letter from my amiable Aunt Boyd 6 in Ireland, and
all the charms of sweet Marianne 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 that I am cured as she wished? Or is there more dignity in
just letting the affair sleep? After her behaviour, do I, the candid,
generous Boswell, owe her anything? Am I anyhow bound by pas-
sionate exclamations to which she did not even answer? Write to me
immediately, 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. 7 Write me without delay. I shall soon
give you a more general epistle.
6 Mary Ann's aunt, Mrs. Jane Boyd. She was probably a sister-in-law of
Margaret Montgomerie's father, David Montgomerie.
7 Here Kate Blair virtually disappears from the scene. She married her cousin,
184 Edinburgh, 9 December 1 768
Adieu, my dearest friend. My kind compliments to Mrs. Temple.
Ever yours,
JAMES BOSWELL.
P.S. I am just now a good deal in debt. If you want any credit from
me, let me know some weeks before. Excuse this. Whatever I can do
you may always depend on.
Sir William Maxwell of Monreith in 1776, sold Adamtown in 1783, and died in
1798.
1769
[Boswell to George Dempster]
I
Edinburgh, 23 February 1769
DEAR DEMPSTER, The fire was prepared,
Your letter is burnt^
Your sighs all consumed,
A delicate show.
Go on, undismayed,
For love is a debt,
A debt on demand,
So she must not say no.
I would give the best horse in my stable to have you here just now. I
would talk to you for seven hours without intermission Dempster,
you dog, why did you allow me to approach the mines? I went into
the basket thinking to amuse myself by going down a little way, and
looking at the spars, &c. But before I had time to recollect myself,
away went the pulleys and I found myself two hundred fathoms below
ground, where a candle would not burn and where I could hardly
breathe. So it happened to me at John Tait's on Friday last. I had
dined at Lord Glencairn's and was just mellow with claret. B. and
Kate with Miss Gordon 8 and some more company supped at Mr. Tait's.
I was there a little after eight. I got close to B. I never ceased conversa-
tion with her till supper. I told her, u You are in a noble situation. We
8 Miss Gordon is probably Catherine Gordon of Stair, whom Boswell had briefly
considered as a matrimonial possibility. Burns, who presented her with a manu-
script collection of his poems, praised her "benevolence of temper and goodness
of heart" (Letters of Robert Burns, i. 43). B. remains a mysterious figure. As
Boswell and Dempster's correspondence makes plain, she was BoswelPs cousin,
heiress to valuable mining properties, and much loved by Dempster. As early as
July 1 768 he had refused Boswell's offer to sound her out on his behalf.
185
186 Edinburgh, 23 February 1769
all (except myself who am in Ireland) pass before you. You may
choose whom you please." Said she, "Do you think that so great an ad-
vantage?" "Come," said I, "I know what you mean, you have the
pain of refusing. Never mind that. It is all fancy. There is no doubt
but you may prefer one man to another who you must own is a more
respectable character. So no man can take it amiss." "But," said she,
"everybody does not think as you do, and I should be sorry not to
have it in my power to make a return to a man who thinks me essential
to his happiness."
What think you of this? I gazed and admired. It is impossible to
put in a letter the fiftieth part of our conversation. I got next her at
supper, and she and I talked on and on together. I was the cousin and
called her m. c.; 9 at last I felt myself absolutely in love. I am positive
she saw it. I cried, "Ah! this is wrong, this is wrong." There was I, in
torment before this divinity. In one corner, my sweet Marianne was
chiding my inconstancy in her simple, lively way. Malo me petit,
lasciva puella? In another corner my friend like Banquo's ghost
shook his gory locks at me. I endeavoured to rage about Ireland. But I
faltered. I begged she would dance with me at next assembly. She
agreed. Next day Peter Craufurd and Bob Chalmers dined at my
father's. Bob joked about mines. I spoke strongly for you. He said, "She
did not know you was Dempster's advocate." Yesterday I dined at
Bob's: the President, Sinclair, and so many more jolly boys; B. and
her sisters; I, next her again. Not as at Tait's in glowing spirits, but
calm and placid, suffering real pain, and yet keeping conversation
ever alive. I am sure I have said nothing amiss, and you may depend
on an honesty which nothing can vary. This evening will try me
severely. I wish from my soul that you had her. I know the feverish
temperature of my soul, and I know I can cure it. But if I were sure
that her fancy is wayward enough not to choose you, I would throw
myself headlong into the awful abyss. May I ask her about you? May
I tell her the whole truth?
The mistress of the Spuilhouse 2 said to me when I harangued on
9 M. C. may well be initials for first names, as for Margaret Caroline.
1 "The wanton girl flings an apple at me [and runs off, wishing first to be seen] "
(altered from Virgil, Eclogues, iii. 64).
2 Spuilhouse (properly spelled speelhuis) is Dutch; in the eighteenth century
Edinburgh, 23 February 1 769 187
Hibernia, "Ye're a great idiot." What could this mean? Plague on
that disposition, be it vanity or be it idle fancy, which makes a man
interpret everything for himself. When I asked B. to dance at this
assembly, she said she made it a rule never to dance two nights to-
gether; and she was engaged to the Capillaire Ball on Friday. 3
"Madam," said I, "I beg you may do something more than common,
something extraordinary for me." She waited a little, and then with
that look and that soft voice which you know, said just "Yes." I
said, "I see you give your answer at once." Said she, "I always do, and
that prevents me from being teased." She said she was very independ-
ent, and she was determined to (here she said something which meant
that she was to make a very difficult choice; I forget the words) . In
short, Dempster, she is a perfect woman-, and I think at this moment
I could take her without a shilling. Such madness! However don't
mind me. I can take care of myself. Where is the rock of Carrickf ergus
now? 4 It will soon appear again. Thus have I given you a most candid
abstract. I shall write to you again tomorrow. Burn me as I burn you.
I say there are few men who are capable of such a correspondence.
Tell me what to do. Ever yours,
J.B.
II
Edinburgh, 24 February 1 769
DEAR DEMPSTER, I did not send off my letter of last night. I
waited till the Assembly should be over. I was worse than ever. I was
in a delirium. But being dressed in sea-green and silver with a sword,
I assumed spirits, and in a gay, smiling manner tried to find out how
she would be courted. She said a man of sense might soon find out
it meant a low public dance hall (see Boswell in Holland, 26 May 1764). Bos-
well is presumably making a sarcastic reference to the Assembly of Edinburgh.
The Mistress of the Spuilhouse would then be the Hon. Miss Nicholas Helen
("Nicky") Murray, who ruled over these dances for many years.
3 The Capillaire Club was a convivial Edinburgh society (capillaire is a syrup
used to flavour drinks). The Club's annual ball was one of the more brilliant
social events of the year.
4 The Irish seaport and fortress, celebrated in the song, The Siege of Carrick-
f ergus, which served to remind Boswell of Mary Ann Boyd and his projected trip
to Ireland.
1 88 Edinburgh, 24 February 769
whether he was a woman's choice, and that she would never be forced
by perseverance to take a man she did not like at first, though she
owned that perseverance in a real attachment might have some effect.
But then she would be sure of his motives (no doubt she meant if
mines or charms) . "But," said I, "suppose a man loves you sincerely,
and yet has always talked in a general style and has been afraid to
address you particularly; what say you to that?" Said she, "That is a
disagreeable situation, both for the man and the woman. And what
can a woman do?" I said, U 0h, see him and give him an opportunity
to open his mind." She said, "No if you do not intend to have him."
This was severe, for she certainly knew what I meant, as I had already
said, "I had this morning a letter from a gentleman who I believe
loves you as much as possible," and then expatiated on his character,
as you know I can do.
I then asked her if sending a friend to inquire was a good way.
She said, "Nothing can be more indelicate to a woman. If I even had
some liking for a man, that would destroy it. If I had none, it would
be a good reason to give for refusing him." Dempster, this made D. R. 5
alarming. I then asked her how comes it that a lady shall refuse a man
whom all his friends love and esteem, who is worthy and amiable in
every respect? Said she, "Perhaps the lady just thinks of him as all his
friends do, who speak so much of him. But she has not that particular
regard which you would have for one with whom you would spend
your life." "Well," said I, "that is putting it in a light I never saw it
before. I understand you. Perhaps we all like the man but would
any of us marry him? I see it."
Now, my friend, what say you to all this? Though my letter is
dated on the 24 (Friday) I am writing this part of it on Saturday. I
am rather warm with wine. But I would not delay another post. So
you must take it as I can write. Yesterday (Friday) I called about
twelve and found her in the coach waiting till her sisters should come
down. She danced with young Pitfour at the Capillaire Ball last night,
and this morning I found her at home just going out. By all that's
sacred, ut vidi, ut peril.* I never in my life was so much in love.
For heaven's sake, Dempster, determine what you are to do. How
pleasant is it to think that it is literally true that, although I now love
5 Possibly David Rae, an advocate and later Lord Justice-Clerk.
6 "I saw; T perished" (Virgil, Eclogues, viii. 41).
Edinburgh, 25 February 1769 189
her to distraction, I would be sincerely happy at your getting her.
This is upon honour the truth. Come over, or write to her, or give her
up. And let me set myself at rest, one way or other. If she is for you,
God bless you both. If not, I will ask her, and then we shall be com-
panions. I will not see her again till I hear from you. For upon my
conscience I am miserable in her company. I asked her if she would
use a lover well who would candidly tell her all his mind. She said
yes. Said I, "Would you endeavour to make him as easy as possible,
and be a friend to him?" "Yes." Dempster, write to me without
delay, and instead of burning those frantic pages return them, that I
may read them calmly. Pray do. Was there ever such a situation?
Adieu, my excellent friend. What philosophy have I! What amazing
command of human nature!
[Received ?6 March, Hailes to Boswell] 7
Edinburgh, 4 March 1 769
SIR: When I received that information which occasioned your
letter, your father was just in my sight, and in my astonishment I re-
lieved myself by telling him what I had heard. 8 What I said was from
information, and did not consist with my own personal knowledge.
Nor could it, for if all my friends had been at the door I might have
7 On 27 February, the House of Lords had reversed the Court of Session's decision
in the Douglas cause, and confirmed Archibald Douglas's position as lawful heir
to the late Duke of Douglas. The news reached Edinburgh on the night of 2
March and the populace took over. They ordered among others all the judges,
whether or not they had voted for Douglas, to illuminate, breaking windows and
doing further mischief where they met opposition. On the second night of cele-
bration, the military were called in to patrol the streets and protect certain
judges' houses.
8 Boswell's letter has not been recovered. From what Hailes writes, one would
infer that Hailes had told Lord Auchinleck that Boswell was in the mob that at-
tacked his house, and that Boswell had written to demand his authority; had he
seen him there? It was commonly reported, probably correctly, that Boswell
had not merely been one of the mob, but that he had headed it. John Ramsay
says that his "behaviour on that occasion savoured so much of insanity that it
was generally imputed to his Dutch blood" (Scotland and Scotsmen, 1888,
i. 173). This letter of Hailes makes it appear either that Boswell was disguised
or that he was confident that nobody except members of the mob had seen him
while the assaults were being made.
190 Edinburgh, 6 March 1 769
been killed by going out to speak to them before I could be known.
Had the mob satisfied themselves with breaking my windows and
thrown in stones which might have murdered the family, I might
have been less displeased when the first attack was over. But renewed
attacks not at windows but at my door, in order to break it open; these
are insults which every man of spirit and dignity must feel.
I am not at liberty to suppose that you had any hand in such
things directly, and I wish that you may have an opportunity of
letting me know that you did not countenance the mob when in my
neighbourhood and just in the street where I live; I never could ask
you any more particular question, for this reason which upon recol-
lection will suggest itself to you, that had you in an unguarded hour
forgot yourself and me, and had you acknowledged it, this would
[have] been a circumstance for proving one of the greatest insults
that has been committed, except those against the President. 9
Had I been a private man I should have probably submitted to
humour the mob in their fancy, but in my situation as a judge I
thought that I could not submit to any commands but legal com-
mands, unless in the case of necessity when the safety of an only
child, and she too not in condition to be transported to a place of
safety, might have prevailed over my sentiments of propriety. When
I found that breaking my windows did not satisfy the populace, I had
recourse to the last resort of civil order, a military force; a chairman
whom I had not employed for many years came down to me and
begged that I might call for instant assistance. I bless God, who en-
abled me to act according to my own opinion on Friday night. I did not
call for any aid till the necessity urged, and if anything had hap-
pened, I should not have been answerable for the consequences. I am,
Sir, your most obedient servant,
DAV. DALRYMPLE.
[Received c. 15 March, Dempster to Boswell]
[Dunnichen, c. 12 March 1 769]
MY DEAR BOSWELL, I thank you for both your letters. The con-
tents of 'em were extremely acceptable to me. But my coat of mail is
9 On his way to the Parliament House in his sedan chair, the President had
been jostled by a mob crying, "Pull him down." Also his house was stoned.
Auchinleck, 15 March 1769 191
all rust; neither sand nor files can give it the least polish. Even the
soft breath of Melvina stuff. 1 You have been rioting, you dog you,
and have broke thy honest father's windows, as the story here tells. 2
Nobody suspects that you have thereby broke his heart. Nothing can
be so strange as the present state of my affair. D.R. at my request
waited of 3 B. and desired to know if I should take what I had got for a
refusal, expressing in the strongest terms my resolution not to be a
troublesome or impertinent suitor. He writes me he found B. (so)
silent and reserved that he thought it indelicate (to inquire) farther,
and is as little qualified to advise me now as before he spoke with B.
on the subject. He recommends it to me to see her as I go to London,
and doubts not but my own good sense and penetration will enable
me to determine what is proper afterwards to be done. 4
Your Irish plan is very prudently and properly concerted. By all
means carry the approbation of the old gentleman along with you.
Not that your interest would suffer by neglecting it, but that you may
enjoy the exquisite satisfaction of gilding the evening of his life by
every act of filial duty and attention. The public, whose faithful
servant he has been so long, expect, nay exact, this of you. I am not
much in the humour of writing today. The weather is fine, I have a
1 Perhaps an allusion to Malvina in Book 4 of Macpherson's FingaL Boswell, in
a missing letter, had presumably urged Dempster to carry off B. like a hero of
old.
2 Lord Marischal wrote to Boswell (26 August 1769): "I am highly delighted
with your behaviour in the Douglas cause. . . . You broke, I am told, your fa-
ther's windows because they were not enough illuminate. Bravo, bravissimo!"
According to Ramsay, Lord Auchinleck "entreated the President, with tears in
his eyes, to put his son in the Tolbooth." Being asked by Sheriff Cockburn to
tell what had happened in his own way Boswell is supposed to have said: "After
I had communicated the glorious news to my father, who received them very
coolly, I went to the Cross to see what was going on. There I overheard a group
of fellows forming their plan of operations. One of them asked what sort of man
the Sheriff was, and whether he was not to be dreaded. c No, no,' answered an-
other, 'he is a puppy of the President's making.' " On hearing this, the Sheriff
went off and left Boswell to himself (Scotland and Scotsmen, i. 173 TZ.I). Bos-
well, of course, was not punished in any way.
3 Scots for "waited on."
4 Dempster later reported that he had called on B. twice in Edinburgh, but that
she had refused even to see him.
192 Auchinleck, 15 March 1769
guest who waits for me to ride out with him, my mind is distracted,
but I could not restrain myself (from) sending you a letter. Write
me <? from the) west, and believe me unalterably (yours).
[Boswell to John Johnston]
[Auchinleck, 31 March 1769]
DEAR SIR, We had an agreeable journey west and a comfort-
able meeting with our cousins at Lainshaw, whom we found much
better than we expected. We stayed six nights there. And now we are
safe at Auchinleck, where is also my brother John.
I am endeavouring to acquire a taste for country affairs, and
hope by degrees to do quite well. If you will give orders about the
planting of the trees, I will fall on a method of getting them sent to
Grange. But I would fain hope you may contrive matters so as to come
here and stay a while, before you go home. My cousins of Lainshaw
intend going to Ireland, so I shall have good company. We are to set
out the last week of April or first of May. James Bruce tells me that
the trees fit for sending you at present are the red fir of Hanover, the
larix, and the different sorts of pines. I can get a parcel sent to Dum-
fries, from whence you can have them taken to Grange, Perhaps you
have these kinds of trees already. If so, it is needless to send them. But
if they will be an acceptable present to you, please let me know.
I have done nothing for my black friend these many weeks, which
is very wrong. I therefore enclose you a draught for 10, which you
may negotiate and deliver the money, together with my letter, to
Mr. Hamilton, surgeon in the Back Stairs. If you think it needless for
me to correspond with him about my black friend, you need not
deliver the letter; but just at my desire inquire how all goes, and just
say what I have said in the letter, and then inform me. 5 I think it
would be proper to have as little interference as possible. If you would
call yourself with Mr. Hamilton and deliver the money, it would
be obliging. You will judge if any receipt is necessary.
I am now as calm and quiet as if I had not been from Auchinleck
5 "Tell her," said Boswell in his letter to Alexander Hamilton, "that my reason
for not seeing her for some time is my resolution to take no part, either one way
or other, in a certain dispute." The matter of the dispute is unknown.
Auchinleck, 31 March 1769 193
for years. Do come, my dear friend. Is it not very odd that one with
whom I am in such intimacy should hardly ever be here? You ought
never to be a year absent. I ever am, with most sincere regard, your
affectionate friend,
JAMES BOSWELL.
TUESDAY 25 APRIL. 6 Miss Montgomerie and I set out from
Auchinleck. My father was so averse to my Irish expedition that she
had not resolution to agree to accompany me. Dr. Johnston took
leave of me, and seemed most anxious for my safe return. My father
walked out, and I did not take leave of him. It was a delightful day.
We were calm and social. We came to Treesbank at four. Mr. Camp-
bell 7 had been at a burial, so dinner was not begun. We were cordially
entertained, and very merry here*
WEDNESDAY 26 APRIL. I gave up my place in the Lainshaw
chaise to Lady Treesbank, and rode my mare. Miss Annie Cuning-
hame was with us. 8 We came to Lainshaw to dinner. The Captain 9
said he would fulfil his promise of going to Portpatrick with me. This
left no objection to Miss Montgomerie' s going, especially as both her
sisters were clear for it. This was a great point gained to me. I felt my-
self quite at home at Lainshaw. Annie and her three eldest brothers
were there. I gave them raisins and called this giving them grocery,
a word which relished much. I sent Thomas to Glasgow to bring a
chaise. My love for Marianne revived most beautifully.
THURSDAY 2 7 APRIL. The Captain, Mrs. Montgomerie-Cun-
inghame and Lady Treesbank, and I took a long walk. They were all
of my opinion as to the Irish scheme, so right is it for a man to have
perseverance. I stated to the Captain the process Brown against Parr,
and was assisted by him. As there was no law in the case, his strong
common sense was excellent for it. After dinner we drank pretty
6 Here Boswell begins his Journal again. This section he endorsed: "Journal of
the first part of my jaunt to Ireland in 1769 with Miss Peggie Montgomerie. I
regret that I ceased when it would have been most interesting."
7 See p. 55 n.6.
8 Annie Cuninghame was the daughter of Captain and Mrs. Montgomerie-
Cuninghame. "Lady Treesbank" was Mary (Montgomerie) Campbell, James
Campbell's wife, sister to Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame and Margaret Mont-
gomerie.
9 Captain Montgomerie-Cuninghame.
1 94 Lainshaw, 27 April 1 769
freely, and he gave me very good hopes of a scheme that will gratify
my ambition in a very honourable way. The families of Auchinleck
and Lainshaw and Corsehill and Treesbank united may do much, and
we resolved they should be united to the end of time. 1 As we were
much in the spirit of Douglas, I put a bottle of wine and a glass in
my pocket, and he and I resolved to go and drink to Douglas under
the old tower at Corsehill, which had formerly belonged to the illus-
trious family. We stopped at Oliver's in Stewarton and drank a little
punch, and bottled up the rest of our bowl, and then, attended by
Oliver and John Brown, one of the Captain's feuars, 2 we went to the
ancient spot and did drink most happily, and huzzaed as boldly as if
there had been a hundred of us. Drink makes men appear numerous.
We feel double as well as see double. Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame
and Mrs. Campbell came out to us and brought us home. I was quite
drunk. I am sorry for it. I behaved ill to Margaret, my own affection-
ate friend. Such terrible effects may intoxication have.
FRIDAY 28 APRIL. I rose with a headache and the disagreeable
reflection that I had offended Margaret. When she came down I
found her so much hurt that she would not have set out on our Irish
jaunt, had she not been so kind that she would not assign the cause of
her staying. I was very sorry, and resolved to make up to her for what
she had suffered by my future good behaviour. We took some break-
fast at Lainshaw; and then we and the Captain, Mrs. Montgomerie-
Cuninghame, and Lady Treesbank all drove to Irvine, where Mr.
Graham had breakfast ready for us at his house. On the road it was
curious for me to think how different things in reality may be from
what they appear. Margaret and I on bad terms were yet driving in
one chaise, and going on a jaunt of pleasure all the way to Dublin.
But the quarrels of friends never last.
At Irvine we had Dr. George Augustus Cuninghame to attend us.
We left Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame and Lady Treesbank, and
the Captain and Mrs. Graham rode with us to Ayr. It was a charming
day, and Margaret and I became gentle and complacent. My love of
1 The scheme that would gratify Boswell's ambition was probably a union of
the political interests of the families mentioned, which might help him to be
elected to Parliament for Ayrshire.
2 One who holds a piece of land on perpetual lease for a fixed rent.
Ayr, 28 April 1769 195
making a show was gratified, for we had sent our servants on to order
dinner, and it was a fair-day, and the streets were crowded with
people; and honest James Gibson came forth and marched like a
macer, clearing the way for us. After a cheerful welcome to each
other to Ayr, James the waiter agreeably surprised me by delivering
me my Roman ring, which I had lost. I also received a very handsome
letter from Paoli, so that I was in noble spirits. We dined well and took
a merry glass with our old landlord, who, having bought his house,
was now Laird Gibson, and then we drank tea at Mrs. Kerr's, where
was a whole drawing-room of people. Among others, who should be
there but Balmuto's heiress and her Glasgow cousin! 3 This was fine
for show. I then paid a visit at Auchinskeith's, where I received a two-
guinea consultation from a company at Glasgow, by the hands of
Craigengillan. I next paid a visit at Mr. Duff's; and then returned to
our inn, where we had Mrs. Kerr and her daughter, and Captain
Ballantyne and Dr. Mackie, her attendants, and Miss Cuninghame
of Auchinskeith to sup with us.
SATURDAY 29 APRIL. I breakfasted at Auchinskeith's, from
whence we set out and drove all the length of the town of Ayr (a fine
show, surely) . We stopped a little at Rozelle. 4 There I put the Captain
into the chaise, and I rode my mare. There was this day a meeting of
the gentlemen of the shire, and so, besides shaking hands with Doon-
side over one of his dykes, I had the satisfaction of showing to many
of the Carrick gentlemen. It was fine to meet Sir Adam Fergusson
after the glorious Douglas decision. I called out to him, " 'Sir Fletcher,
Sir Fletcher, your servant. 73 Well, Sir Adam, I never saw you with so
much pleasure. We no longer meet as foes." I then showed him Paoli's
letter, and we were classically companionable. I and my fellow
travellers stopped at Maybole and got a pretty good dinner. The old
Laird of Killantringan drank a glass with us.
3 Claud Boswell of Balmuto married Anne Irvine, heiress of Kingcausie, but as
the marriage did not take place until 1783 it is not probable that she is referred
to here. Just possibly Balmuto is a slip for Adamtowri.
4 The seat of Robert Hamilton of Bourtreehill, and, after his death, of his daugh-
ter the Countess of Crawford, Margaret Montgomerie's dear friend.
5 Sir Fletcher Norton had been one of Douglas's English counsel, and thus on
the other side from Fergusson (see p. 27 rz-5). Boswell appears to be recalling to
Fergusson some joke about Sir Fletcher that they shared.
196 Maybole^ 29 April 1769
I felt myself in love with another woman than Marianne. 6 1 spoke
of it to Margaret. She is always my friend and comforter. She and I
were now admirable company. I observed that there were few people
but were mixed characters, like a candle: half wax, half tallow. But
Sir Adam Fergusson was all wax, a pure taper, whom you may light
and set upon any lady's table. I observed that she and I had more en-
larged views, as we had fancy to look beyond what really is ours
like one whose house has a prospect not only of his own lands, but of
many beautiful objects at a distance. That Balmuto saw nothing but
what was solid, and substantially his own. That he had thick high
stone walls built round that extent, and had that only in his view,
except when I surprised him by sometimes taking a hammer and beat-
ing a hole in his walls so as to give him a peep of the fields of fancy,
which made him caper; but his mother and sisters took care to build
all up again directly. When I talked that Corsica was a very hilly
country, Margaret observed that the French would have uphill work
there.
We came at night to Ardmillan. Mr. Craufurd we had met going
to Ayr, and he could not be home; but we found his mother, a fine old
lady full of life, an Episcopal and a Jacobite, and his three sisters. We
were most hospitably entertained, but my serious passion hung
heavily on my mind. I feared that the lady was engaged, and I was in
great uneasiness all night.
SUNDAY 30 APRIL. I was restless and rose at six, and walked to
the top of the highest mountain, from whence I saw a great way. The
sea and Ailsa pleased me. Ardmillan stands at the foot of a hill.
There is little planting about it. But a good garden, some fields in
excellent culture, and pretty green hills with a prospect as far as
Ireland. The old lady and I were great friends. I read part of the
service of the day to her, and took her prayer-book with me that I
might get silver clasps put upon it at Dublin. No man ever understood
the little arts of obliging better than I do, and the peculiar beauty in
my case is that what others have done from designing views, I do
from an amiable disposition to make people happy. No doubt, I have
sometimes had my designs, too. But, in general, I have none.
6 Margaret Montgomerie herself. Boswell continues to refer to her in this mys-
terious manner.
Ardmillan, 30 April 1769 197
The Captain found himself fatigued, so Miss Montgomerie and I
agreed that he should go no farther. We dined here, and at four we set
out and took a Sabbath day's journey to Ballantrae. By the way, my
serious passion came into my mind with more force than ever. I
imagined that Miss Montgomerie knew the lady's mind, and from
some things she said, I concluded that the lady was engaged. I was
amazingly affected. I cried bitterly, and would not speak to my
companion. I, who was on an expedition to court a pretty young lady
at Dublin, and had with me a most agreeable companion, was miser-
able from love of another woman, and would not speak to my com-
panion. Such a mind! I never was in greater torment, nor indulged
gloomier schemes. We had a good inn at Ballantrae. For ten minutes
I continued as bad as in the chaise, till Miss Montgomerie by chance
discovered the cause of all my misery, and with her usual kindness
assured me that I was mistaken. I then enjoyed the most delightful
calm after a dismal storm. We drank tea comfortably after our
journey, read part of the evening service, had some agreeable religious
conversation, and then supped cheerfully. I was so much rejoiced that,
after she went to bed, I got Mactaggart the landlord to drink with
me till I staggered. Such wild transitions! A punster would say the
landlord might be called Macstaggered.
MONDAY i MAY. My last night' s riot hurt me a little. I begged
my companion's pardon, we breakfasted, and set out in good humour.
I entertained my companion with stories of Mr. Samuel Johnson, and
we walked up the monstrous hill of Glen App very cleverly. We
stopped at , 7 a place now Sir Thomas Wallace's, formerly a
Colonel Agnew's. It is just a piece of low ground gradually descending
from the bottom of a range of hills. There is a neat house, and the most
is made of the space that ever I saw, there being a fine garden with
variety of flowers and fruit both on standards and walls, fish-ponds,
and a few pretty enclosures. The sea is just before it, and the avenue
is in the old style. I had a great desire to buy this place. It was such a
one as I had often fancied in a romantic mood, and I thought I and my
companion could live at it most happily. We had a pretty drive along
the shore and through Stranraer to Portpatrick, which has the oddest-
like rocky shore I have seen. It is a poor town, and instead of appear-
7 Lochryan.
198 Portpatrick, i May 1769
ing a very public thoroughfare as it really is, it looks like a remote
Highland sea-coast village. We dined here, and after dinner were
visited by Mr. Fraser of the customs, formerly an attendant on the
Earl of Cassillis, an obliging little man. He accompanied us to Craig-
buy, the seat of Mr. Blair of Dunskey. There is little done about it.
But there is a fine prospect to the sea. There was nobody at home but
the two Miss Blairs. The eldest is a very pretty girl, and seems to have
much goodness. I did not observe the other so much.
We drank tea, and then they walked down with us to the port,
where we engaged a boat, the James and , Captain Cosh, com-
mander, to carry us to the other side of the water. As we knew we
would be sick, we determined to sail that night and try to sleep, as
there was a good cabin. We had our company to sup with us, and were
very well. Mr. Campbell of Airies, the collector of the customs here,
arrived atJhome about eleven, and came to us. I had not seen him for
seventeen years. We were very cordial. At twelve my companion and I
went aboard. I tried to brave it out for a while, but grew very sick. She
was better than I. Only I got some sleep, which she did not. Nothing
can be severer than to be sick at sea, for one has no hope that immediate
relief may come, as in other sicknesses. One grows quite weak. I
thought my Irish jaunt madness, and that I would not try another.
Such are our minds at times. It was a very moderate breeze. We got
over in about five hours.
TUESDAY 2 MAY. It was pleasant to see the Irish shore, but from
my distracted passions I had not the joy I had promised myself. We
put up at the Hillsborough Arms, and drank a dish of tea. It was a bad
house. Between seven and eight we went to Collector Boyd's. 8 We
were met by our amiable friend Aunt Boyd, and in a little her
husband came and we were received like relations and friends. We
then saw Miss Boyd and the two youngest daughters, and my ac-
quaintance Mr. Ponsonby Boyd, all their children then at home. We
found here an admirable house, and took a good second breakfast.
Then came Miss Macbride, a niece of Mr. Boyd's.
The Collector, Mr. Ponsonby, and I took horses from the stable,
and rode out along the shore , which is every now and then agree-
ably varied with a fine strand on which a race might be run. I ob-
8 Hugh, Aunt Boyd's husband. Ponsonby Boyd, mentioned below, was their sec-
ond son.
Donaghadee, 2 May 1769 199
served the ground naturally good and much enriched with marl,
which covers it with daisies. The country here is, I may say, uni-
versally enclosed, though not in the best way, with mounds planted
all over with whins, which do not look so well as thorns and are apt to
spread. This may be much prevented by clearing the ditches and often
ploughing the ground. And I observed a droll way of restraining their
sheep, which was by putting them in couples just like dogs, which,
however, they say prevents their feeding so well. I observed in the
churchyards a kind of black stone like slate which was very becoming
as gravestones, much more so than our white ones.
We went to Grey Abbey, where is one of the finest Gothic ruins I
ever saw, though there are but small remains of it. There has been a
noble church and a large convent. Of the convent little is left. But
there is a good part of the church standing; in particular there is an
end window with three divisions in it, exceedingly Gothic, and
covered with a thicker ivy than I ever saw, which adds greatly to its
appearance. There is also standing a side window just adjoining to
this end. It is a lofty arch eight yards or more wide at the bottom. I
measured seven lengths and a third of my cane.
While we were looking at this piece of antiquity, which belongs to
Mr. Montgomery of Rosemount, his eldest son, a young officer, walk-
ing about with dogs and his gun, came up to us, asked Mr. Boyd and
Ponsonby, whom he knew, how they were, and begged we might all
go and see his father's house, which stands not far above where we
were. We went with him and found it to be an excellent house of Mr.
Montgomery's own planning, and not yet finished. He was not at
home, but his lady and two daughters were very obliging, gave us
bread and wine, and begged we would stay dinner. I already saw a
specimen of an Irish gentleman's family in the country. We walked
about the place, which is remarkable for a fine view of the sea, par-
ticularly of Strangford Bay. There is also a good deal planted. I saw
here a singular thing, at least to me: a goldfinch's nest in a young
pine. I believe birds never build in pines till they are well grown up,
and then only large birds such as crows.
We rode another way from that which we had come. As we passed
by , 9 Mr. Mathews, the gentleman to whom it belongs, met us as
he was out riding, and begged we would take pot luck with him. So
9 Probably Springvale, the seat of George Mathews.
20O Donaghadee, 2 May 1769
hospitable is everybody here. We got home to dinner in good time.
Aunt Boyd, as we call her, keeps a regular, genteel, good table as ever
I saw, and the Collector and I took our bottle apiece of claret at dinner
and supper every day.
WEDNESDAY 3 MAY. Mr s. Boyd carried Miss Montgomerie and
me to wait of the Countess Dowager Mount Alexander, a French lady,
who was first married to a peer of France, and afterwards to Lord
Mount Alexander, by whom she has a great estate about Donaghadee. 1
She is a fine, lively old lady, has been much in the gay world, but
lives now quite retired and dresses like a common farmer's wife. But
as she has read a great deal, she is very good company. I should have
mentioned that Mrs. Boyd and Miss Montgomerie had last night
resolved not to go with me to Dublin. This vexed me much; and,
although I said nothing, they saw me in such an humour that they this
morning agreed to attend me. Our day passed very comfortably. We
had with us at tea and supper a Mr. Sempill and his two daughters.
I was really pleased to hear the Irish tone. But, being still sincerely
in love with one whom I do not name, I was vastly uneasy in being
distracted between that passion and my Irish schemes.
[Boswell to Temple] 2
Donaghadee, 3 May 1 769
MY DEAR TEMPLE, I am fairly landed in the kingdom of Ire-
land, and am tomorrow to proceed for Dublin to see my sweet Mary
Ann. But my worthy friend, to whom my heart is ever open, and to
whom I must apply for advice at all times, I must tell you that I am
accompanied by my cousin Miss Montgomerie, whom I believe you
saw at Edinburgh, and she perhaps may and perhaps ought to prevent
my Hibernian nuptials. You must know that she and I have always
been in the greatest intimacy. I have proved her on a thousand
occasions, and found her sensible, agreeable, and generous. When I
1 BoswelFs information is unusually inaccurate. Lady Mount Alexander's father
was a Huguenot refugee who served under William III, and she was a widow
when she married Lord Mount Alexander, but her first husband cannot have
been a "peer of France." She also outlived a third husband, whom Boswell does
not mention.
2 This letter is printed here for the first time. It was not sent until later (see en-
tries for 5 May and 16 June 1769) .
Donaghadee, 3 May 1769 201
was not in love with some one or other of my numerous flames, I have
been in love with her; and during the intervals of all my passions
Margaret has been constantly my mistress as well as my friend. Allow
me to add that her person is to me the most desirable that I ever saw.
Often have I thought of marrying her, and often told her so. But we
talked of my wonderful inconstancy, were merry, and perhaps in two
days after the most ardent professions to her I came and told her that
I was desperately in love with another woman. Then she smiled, was
my confidante, and in time I returned to herself. She is with all this,
Temple, the most honest, undesigning creature that ever existed.
Well, Sir, being my cousin german, she accompanies me on my
Irish expedition. I found her both by sea and land the best companion
I ever saw. I am exceedingly in love with her. I highly value her. If
ever a man had his full choice of a wife, I would have it in her. But
the objections are she is two years older than I. She has only a
thousand pounds. My father would be violent against my marrying
her, as she would bring neither money nor interest. I, from a desire to
aggrandize my family, think somewhat in the same manner. And all
my gay projects of bringing home some blooming young lady, and
making an eclat with her brilliant fortune would be gone.
But, on the other hand, my cousin is of a fine, firm, lively tem-
perament, and never can be old. She may have as many children as I
wish, and from what she has already done as an aunt, I am sure she
would make a very good mother. Would not my children be more
obliged to me for such a mother than for many thousands? Then, she
has much to say with my father, who could not reasonably be enraged
at having his niece for daughter-in-law. She would live in such a
manner that at my death my family may be richer than if I married
a fortune; and for the gay projects of fancy, is there any doubt that
they are nothing when compared with real happiness? Many men
seek to form friendships with the great, the embroidered, the titled.
If they succeed, are they as happy as I am in the friendship of
Temple? I fear that if I marry any other woman, my love for my
cousin may often distract me. And what weighs much with me.
Temple, is that amidst all this merriment and scheming, I really
imagine that she truly loves me, that by my courting her so often she
is so attached to me, that she would silently suffer very severely if she
saw me irrevocably fixed to another.
202 Donaghadee, 3 May 1769
And yet my charming seraph, my Marianne, melts my heart. Her
little bosom beats at the thoughts of seeing me forgive my vanity
you know, strange as it may be, that women of all tempers and
ages have been fond of me. Temple, you never failed me yet. What
shall I do? This is the most delicate case of the many that I have laid
before you. I must, however, tell you that my father is quite averse
to Marianne, and declares he never will agree to it. But if her father
gives me a round sum, I do not fear mine. But if I am certain that my
cousin sincerely loves me, wishes to have me, and would be unhappy
without me, what should I do? Should I be hard-hearted enough not
to give happiness to the woman I love, and the friend I can trust? for
such she literally is. And if I think of my own happiness, whether do
you think that she or the seraph is most certain? And how shall I do
not to hurt either of the two? Never did there live such a man as my-
self. I beseech you write to me without delay: Dublin is address
enough for Corsican Boswell. Pray is not your wife about your own
age? On the other hand, might I not by a couple of thousand pounds
marry my cousin so as that both she and I may be more properly dis-
posed of than if we went together? 3
My dear Temple-, I know both your heart and your understand-
ing. Be so kind as immediately to exert them both for me. I shall just
amuse myself at Dublin in an easy, general style till your letter
arrives. I think I could give up my certain felicity with my cousin,
and take my chance of the brilliant Irish scheme. But when I throw
into the scale the concern that I believe my amiable, worthy, and de-
sirable cousin has in it, what should preponderate? Let us ever be
helpful to each other; and believe me to be, my dear Temple, your
unalterable, affectionate friend,
JAMES BOSWELL.
THURSDAY 4 MAY. Mr. Ponsonby and I and a Mr. McMinn, 4 a
young gentleman here, rode to Newtown, where I found the curate,
Mr. Hugh Caldwell, brother to my old friend, Mr. Samuel Caldwell. 5
3 This sentence is heavily crossed out in an eighteenth-century ink.
4 William McMinn later married Jane Charlotte, one of Collector Boyd's daugh-
ters.
5 The Rev. Samuel Caldwell had been one of BoswelFs confidants at the Hague
in 1764.
Newtown, 4 May 1 769 203
He resembles him a good deal, but is bigger and jollier. Mr. Stewart 6
is proprietor of the place., having fourteen thousand a year estate
round it. He is building some new streets, the town as yet being of no
great extent. Caldwell was very happy to see his brother's friend. He
showed me a very pretty chapel here which belonged to the Colville
family, formerly lords of this manor. It is prettily stuccoed on the
ceiling, and boxed, painted, and gilded on the walls. It stands at the
end of the church, which is of no use, there being such a number of
Dissenters 7 here that the chapel is sufficient to hold all those of the
established communion; to the great concern of Mr. Hugh Caldwell,
as I could well perceive from his manner of talking. We drank a glass
of white wine at Tom Orr's, and then rode home by Bangor. When we
came upon the shore we had a fine view of the bay and old Castle of
Carrickfergus, that wonderful place of which I have thought and
raved so much as the representative of all my Irish ideas. I sung the
song with great violence and was quite the Hawk*
After dinner Captain Murray of the old Highland regiment,
brother to the Duke of Atholl, and a foreign engineer famous for di-
recting many of the public works in Ireland, arrived in their way to
Scotland. Mr. Boyd and I waited on them, and he asked them to his
house. They drank tea with us, and showed us a raccoon, an American
animal, which they had with them. Lady Mount Alexander drank tea
with us. I accompanied her Ladyship home. She asked me in, and
gave me a glass of good old claret, and talked of the wonderful works
of nature, Fontenelle's Plurality of Worlds^ and other such subjects.
I amused my wild fancy for a moment with thinking how clever it
would be for me to carry off the old lady and her great fortune, for
which I might well spare a few years. We passed the evening at Mr.
Boyd's at brag. The two strangers went away.
FRIDAY 5 MAY. I showed Miss Montgomerie a letter I had writ-
ten to Temple to have his advice how to proceed in my distracted war
6 Alexander Stewart, father of the first Marquess of Londonderry and grandfa-
ther of the second (better known to history as Viscount Castlereagh) . He con-
tributed 100 to the fund which Boswell raised for the Corsicans in Ireland.
7 Emigrant Scots Presbyterians. The established church was Episcopalian.
s "Was quite the Hawk" probably means "realized all my spirited ideas of what
a Boswell should be." The crest of the Boswells of Auchinleck is a falcon or
hawk.
2O4 Donaghadee, 5 May 1769
of passions. She would not allow me to send it. But convinced me that
the other lady was of so generous a temper that I might marry anyone
I liked best, or found most for my interest, and she would even help
me to do so. I admired the other lady from the bottom of my heart,
and all that Miss Montgomerie told me of her with intention to make
me easy only served to distract me more, as it showed me more of her
excellent character. We should have set out before now, but our
chaises did not come from Belfast till this day.
SATURDAY 6 MAY. We set out for Dublin, Mrs. Boyd and I in
one chaise, and Miss Montgomerie and Miss Macbride in another.
We arrived safely at Belfast. We passed along a bridge over an arm of
the sea. It is said to be an English mile in length. It is indeed amaz-
ingly long. It consists of above twenty arches. The town is beautifully
situated, but it is not very pretty itself. We took a second breakfast
here. Two Miss Pattersons of Comber visited Mrs. Boyd. They were
both pretty girls. The eldest was clever and like an actress, and took
my idle fancy. All this place belongs to Lord Donegall. I believe no
subject in the three kingdoms has so large a town in property. There
is a good mall to walk in, but there is some standing water in a ditch
that is offensive,, and spoils the pleasure of a grove of noble old trees.
Miss Macbride and I next were companions. She was full of narrative
and very obligingly told me the name of every place we saw, and
gave me some account of every person. Between Belfast and Lisburn
there is the finest country I ever saw, naturally rich, finely diversified,
and improved to the utmost. I never saw such a verdure or such a
quantity of grass and daisies upon ground. The linen manufacturers
possess this country, and, as every one has but a few acres and pays
a rent of four or five pounds an acre, everything is done to enrich the
land, and there is plenty of marl in all corners here. It was very
agreeable to see a number of bleach fields, the webs looking so white
on the green grass, and the people looking so clean. A number of them
are Quakers.
Lisburn is one of the prettiest towns I ever saw. The High Street
is a good breadth, and consists of admirable brick houses, all inhab-
ited by substantial people. We dined here. A Counsellor Smyth, for-
merly their Member, said to Miss Macbride that if I was come over to
raise contributions for the Corsicans a considerable sum might be
Lisburn, 6 May 1769 205
raised in Lisburn. I saw here a very odd sign: "Groceries, liquors, and
coffins sold here." I made Miss Montgomerie look at it, lest my telling
it should appear the report of a traveller. It seemed the man of the
shop was resolved that his guests or customers should be in want of
nothing, and, if the spirits conveyed them a little abruptly to their
long home, coffins were ready for their reception.
I neglected to mention a curious epitaph in the church of New-
town: "Here lies the body of one of Joseph Macowan's children, who
died April 10, 1754." Epitaphs are usually intended to preserve the
memory of the dead. My old professor at Utrecht, doctissimus Trot-
zius, has written a book, De memoria propaganda, or the various
methods which mankind have taken to preserve their memories.
Amongst these, epitaphs are often mentioned. But this epitaph could
only keep up Joseph Macowan's own memory, and assure posterity
that he had more than one child. But as to the child, it could serve no
purpose. It neither mentions its age, sex, nor even his or her name.
At Lisburn I visited my old acquaintance, Dr. Traill, Bishop of
Down and Connor. 9 I was a very little while with him. He told me
that, when he read in my Tour to Corsica that I had played to the brave
Islanders on my flute, he thought how he had made me a present of it.
We went at night to Hillsborough. Near to it I saw some of the largest
silver firs that I ever beheld. There is at Hillsborough a magnificent
inn built by the Earl. 1 But the landlord and landlady are rather too
fine people for their business, for they had both their post-chaises
away with themselves and friends on a party of pleasure. Miss Mac-
bride and I walked round the Earl's improvements, and saw very rich
fields, all kinds of trees and shrubs, a river formed into beautiful
pieces of water, and an excellent kitchen garden. Mr. Atchison, from
Duns in Scotland, my Lord's gardener, showed us everything. He was
a sensible, understanding man. He had not been in Scotland for
twenty years. He conducted us along a noble, broad walk, at the end
of which we entered a place hedged round, and all at once found our-
selves in the churchyard, which my Lord has taken into his place. It
has a fine effect. There are in it many tombstones, a number of old
trees, and the ruins of the burial-place of the Magennises to whom
9 Boswell had met him in Florence in 1765.
1 Wills Hill, first Earl of Hillsborough, noted for Ms improvement of his lands.
206 Hillsborough, 6 May 1 769
this domain anciently belonged. Atchison showed it to advantage, for
he said he would take us the nearest way home; and, before we had
any idea of it, we were on the solemn spot in the shade of night. Our
evening passed pretty well.
SUNDAY 7 MAY. We set out early. Aunt Boyd and I were in one
chaise. Our conversation was quiet, pleasing, and really sensible. We
agreed that she should acquaint Mr. and Mrs. Boyd at Dublin that I
had come contrary to my father's inclination; and that I should be-
have to Miss Boyd in such a manner as not to be particular while it
was uncertain what could be done seriously. Aunt Boyd's observa-
tions on different characters and the conduct of life were exceedingly
just and agreeable, and so were her notions of religion. We break-
fasted at Banbridge, a very good house. We next stopped at Newry,
where we saw at a window the three Miss McCammins who, for more
gentility, call themselves Miss Cummins. Their father keeps a shop
here. They are all pretty. But one of them is as beautiful a creature
as I ever beheld. We then drove through the mountains of Newry. It
pleased my Scottish soul to see mountains. The road here is as good
as the military roads in the Highlands of Scotland. About two miles
from Newry, the horse which the postilion rode before the chaise
where Miss Montgomerie and Miss Macbride were lost his feet all at
once, and the poor fellow fell on his neck and head, and was severely
hurt. It was just by a little farmhouse, into which we went till the
postilion and his horse recovered. It was a neat Highland house., and
all the people spoke Irish, though they could speak English too. I gave
the postilion half a crown, which proved an admirable medicine to
him. We dined at Dundalk, a town pleasantly situated on the sea
coast. But we ...
[EDITORIAL NOTE. The Journal breaks off here "when it would
have been most interesting," some four weeks before Boswell's return
to Scotland, but it is possible to reconstruct in part the weak conclu-
sion of his long contemplated attack on la belle Irlandaise. He came
as a suitor, but as he drew nearer to Dublin his passion steadily evap-
orated, until, the goal of his longings reached, he ceased to be a suitor
at all. Now believing that it was Peggie Montgomerie whom he really
wished to marry, he conducted himself with such caution toward the
8 May ton June 1 769: Summary 207
heiress and her relatives (who apparently were very well disposed
toward his advances) that they took offence. They perhaps saw little
of his company. The scanty references which he himself made to his
days in Dublin do not have to do with courtship, but with social dis-
sipation and riot in the company of the Lord Lieutenant and the wits
of the Irish metropolis, and with junketings to "beautiful country
seats" in the County of Down. "One night of Irish extravagance" was
to have serious consequences; he contracted a severe case of venereal
disease. The humble lover recedes, and there emerges the more bril-
liant figure of the Corsican traveller and friend of Paoli, everywhere
"treated with a distinction . . . very flattering to the blood of Auch-
inleck." 2 On 7 July there appeared in The Public Advertiser a para-
graph dated "Dublin, June 8," written by Boswell and giving an ac-
count of his visit to Ireland. It ends with the information that the
great man "is now set out on his return to Scotland." He made the
crossing about 7 June, stopped briefly at Lainshaw, and arrived in
Edinburgh on 12 June. One of the few surviving documents of his
Irish trip illustrates the growth of his regard for Margaret Mont-
gomerie.]
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie] 3
Belfast, 29 May 1 769
MY DEAR PEGGIE, It gave me great concern that you got so bad
an evening. I hope the rain has done you no harm. Pray take care of
yourself. I solemnly assure you that my rash and most absurd passion
at dinner has given me real uneasiness. And allow me to say, my dear
friend, that your taxing me with indifference went to my very heart.
1 beseech you forget what is past that can anyhow offend you; and I
promise you I shall for the future be so much on my guard that you
never shall have any occasion to blame me. Oh, my dear Peggie^ these
few hours of separation have had a serious effect on me. Be sorry for
2 So he wrote to Sir Alexander Dick, 29 May 1769 (Letters of James Boswell,
i. 171).
3 Addressed to Margaret Montgomerie at Hugh Boyd's in Donaghadee. Boswell
set out from Donaghadee on this day for a jaunt to Lough Neagh and the
Giant's Causeway. Apparently Miss Montgomerie accompanied him as far as
Belfast, but returned to Donaghadee the same evening, possibly because of the
display of anger towards her for which he is writing to apologize.
208 Belfast, 29 May 1 769
me, and let your friendship and affectionate temper have fair play. I
drank tea at Mrs. Haliday's, where was a company to see me. I was
surprisingly well. I supped with some of Captain Hoggan's corps,
drank a single glass of wine, and a little wine and water.
We set out tomorrow by five o'clock, six of us in three chaises. By
all I have seen, the Highland host did not strike you differently from
what this corps does me. What an odds to read of a brave regiment in
Germany or in America from what it is to dine or sup with the officers.
But my old companion is exceedingly good. He is as careful as my
lady 4 could wish. I said to him tonight, "Captain, I shall let Miss
Montgomerie know." It will take us three days, so I cannot be with
you till Friday to dinner. Believe me, the time seems dreary in pros-
pect. I know not what a variety of curious objects may do to amuse my
mind. In the mean time, my valuable friend, think of me, and for the
sake of every good principle and my real happiness be kind enough to
think no evil against an absent man. I am to sleep in the room where
you and I were alone. You are present to my imagination in the live-
liest manner. It is late and I am weary, not being well. Good night,
my dearest. God bless and preserve you, and direct us. Make my best
compliments to Aunt Boyd, Mr. Boyd, and all with you. Pray think
of me as I wish and believe me to be while I have a being, your most
sincerely affectionate
J.B.
MONDAY i 2 JUNE. 5 Set out early from Lainshaw. Got to Glas-
gow to breakfast. Had Mr. Blair the hatter with me. Left Glasgow
about eleven, Thomas in the chaise with me. Read newspapers all the
way. Dined at Whitburn. Was grave and quite in the Auchinleck
style. Thought of coming there with my lady. Young Samuel Mit-
chelson came in and sat a while with me. I arrived at Edinburgh
about nine. Captain Erskine was at the Cross, and followed the chaise.
He welcomed me to town, and asked me if I had not carried Miss
Montgomerie to Ireland to compare her with Miss Boyd and take the
one I liked best. Found my father and John quite well. Conversation
slow and rather dry. In my own room thought of my lady.
TUESDAY 13 JUNE. Went to Parliament House; found it just as
usual. Had many questions put to me as to my Irish jaunt, and where
4 That is, Miss Montgomerie herself.
5 A new Journal begins here, covering the summer term of the Court of Session.
Edinburgh, 13 June 1769 209
was my heiress? I was prepared, and laughed them off with "My
time's not come." or, "Aha, I'm just as I was. 5 ' Mr. Claud and Miss
Betty 6 dined with us. Claud and I drank tea at the Doctor's and saw
Bob and his wife. 7 It was humbling and yet agreeable to see them all
so happy. Came and sat a while with Mrs. Betty. Called for Lord
Mountstuart.
WEDNESDAY 14 JUNE. Lord Mountstuart begged to see me in
the morning. I went to him. and found him as agreeable as ever. But
I was in a different style from the gay, thoughtless way in which he
and I used to be. Baron Mure and many more of the Bute train were
with him. I dined at home quietly, and supped at Fortune's with Lord
Mountstuart, &c.
THURSDAY 15 JUNE. Mrs. Fullarton and her son, Sandy Tait,
Drs. Gregory and Austin, and Willy Wallace dined with us. I was not
well, and in very bad spirits. At such times all the varnish of life is off,
and I see it as it really is. Or why not may it be that there is a shade
thrown over it which is merely ideal darkness? All my comfort was
piety, my friends, and 7777 lady.
FRIDAY 16 JUNE. I dined along with Lord Mountstuart at
Fortune's. There was a great crowd there. I had little joy. Among
others, Andrew Stuart 8 was there. I was very angry. "Why?" said Dr.
Blair. "Because," said I, "there is no telling what he may do. He may
bring a process to show my leg is not my own. In vain have I acknowl-
edged it all my life long. He would insist it belonged to another per-
son and should be cut off, and he would get a majority of the Court
of Session for this, Doctor." My ludicrous indignation silenced the
Doctor. "Ay," said Erskine, "it would be in proof that you had let the
nail grow into your great toe, which no man would do were the leg
his own!" I drank tea in comfortable quietness with Grange, whom I
saw today for the first time this session. He and I had much conversa-
tion. He argued me quite out of my mercenary views for marriage,
and was clear for my lady if I thought myself sure of happiness. But
G His father's cousin, Elizabeth Boswell. Boswell's evident liking for her ended
abruptly when he learned that Lord Auchinleck had proposed marriage to her.
She is also the Mrs. Betty mentioned further on in this entry.
7 Dr. John Boswell and his son Robert, who had recently married a niece of
Robert Sandeman, the Glassite sectary.
8 Writer to the Signet, and the leading agent for the Hamiltons in the Douglas
cause.
2 1 o Edinburgh, 1 6 June 1769
he wished to see Temple's answer to my letter, which I sent off. I
supped at Mr. Moncrieffe's. The Club 9 was merry. Sandy Maxwell
had some jokes on me. I said he was hard on me. He kept a close fire:
grape-shot from a wine-merchant. This set me up. But I had only
forced spirits.
SATURDAY ij JUNE. The reports concerning the Corsicans
were various. I was uneasy. 1 Grange brought me Mr. Macdonald, an
obliging and clever surgeon, to take care of me. I passed part of the
forenoon at Lord Mountstuart's, but was both ill and low-spirited. So
sent an apology to Mr. David Ross, where I was engaged to dine, and
stayed quietly at home. Was very gloomy. Wrote to my lady.
SUNDAY 18 JUNE. Lay quiet abed all day. Was calm. Sir
George Preston, Dr. Webster, and Grange visited me.
MONDAY 19 JUNE. The Commissioner 2 dined. I had mentioned
my lady by the by to many as a supposable case, if I had spirit to over-
come my mercenary views. All approved. Even the Commissioner
and Mr. Stobie were not against it. The Lieutenant 3 indeed was. I
stayed at home all day and was rather better. Sir Alexander Dick
drank tea, and
TUESDAY 20 JUNE. The Dean of Faculty 4 showed me a letter
from Colonel Lockhart of Carnwath, from Florence, confirming the
defeat and destruction of the Corsicans. I was quite sunk. I thought of
retiring to the country. I felt myself unable for the law. I saw I had
parts to make a figure at times. But could not stand a constant trial. I
received a most comforting letter from M. I just worshipped her. I was
at home all day, except paying a short visit to Lord Mountstuart, and
being at the Parliament House. The Doctor 5 was with me a while. He
commended M. highly as a sensible woman, a fine woman. But
seemed to have some extravagant idea of a wife for me.
9 Nameless apparently, but composed of a convivial company of advocates who
met on Fridays at David Stewart Moncrieffe's. Moncrieffe was noted for the
quality of his dinners, for which his guests were expected to pay in flattery.
1 On 8 May 1769 Paoli was defeated by the French in a decisive battle at Ponte
Nuovo and fled to Leghorn.
2 Basil Cochrane.
3 Boswell's brother, John.
4 Alexander Lockhart.
5 Dr. John Boswell.
Edinburgh, 20 June 1 769 211
[Received 20 June, Margaret Montgomerie to Bos well]
Lainshaw, 1 7 June 1 769
HOW SINCERELY DID YOUR LETTER OBLIGE ME, but how SOriy I was
to think by writing it you put a force on yourself. What is the reason
of your uneasiness? Why do you conceal from me what is the cause of
your unhappiness? Surely you forget how much I am interested in
what concerns you; otherwise you would not have left me in uncer-
tainty. I was apprehensive you was not well, but you say you have
been oftener abroad than you would choose with Lord Mountstuart, so
that want of health cannot be the thing. Are you angry at me for keep-
ing up a correspondence with one I could never view an the black
colours you do? 7 I am sensible amongst the number of her enemies
there are some who have the art of setting people's action in a very
bad light. She is now far removed from me and quite independent of
my friendship. It is therefore nothing wrong in me to say that, since
it gives offence to one whose good opinion I wish to preserve, I shall
give up all correspondence with her till I can convince him of his prej-
udice or he make me sensible of ray weakness. Is not this sufficient? If
that will not do, I promise never to mention her name to you again.
How sorry I am for the poor Corsicans. I'm afraid the accounts of
their defeat is but too true. 8 1 doubt not but you will see the General,
as it's said he is on his way to England. I am much distressed with a
6 Dated 18 June in the typescript (see Introduction, p. xxii), and no doubt also in
the manuscript. But in her letter of i July, Miss Montgomerie says that she
never writes on Sunday, and she clearly plans to post this letter during the day
on which she is writing. Her reference later in the letter to Tuesday shows that
she can hardly be writing on Monday.
7 To judge from a later letter, this refers to Margaret Stuart, wife of the Earl
of Bute's second son, Lieut-Col. James Archibald Stuart. (He later added the
names Wortley and Mackenzie.) Though the two saw little of each other after
Mrs. Stuart's marriage in 1767, they remained affectionate friends. The situa-
tion is amusing if Mrs. Stuart is meant, for Boswell later developed an extrava-
gantly sentimental regard for her.
8 "Accounts is" and similar expressions prove Miss Montgomerie Scotch rather
than illiterate. In the Scottish variety of English the ending for all persons and
numbers of the present is "s," except where the personal pronoun immediately
precedes. Boswell himself was contributing some of the Corsican accounts in
the newspapers.
212 Edinburgh, 20 June 1769
headache tonight, but could not think of missing this post, as I have
not another opportunity till Tuesday.
May I once more entreat you to keep up your spirits, and do not
keep the house too close. Exercise is absolutely necessary for your
body, and society is a great relaxation to the mind. I approve much of
your sober plan and hope you will continue it, and I am certain you
will find it will make a great change on your sentiments; but is it
necessary to be shut up to live sober? I hope not. Keep company with
those who are so, and you will soon have a relish for that way of life.
I was very uneasy after I sent off your Irish packet and would
have given anything I had sent them where you desired, but your
goodness in forgiving me has reconciled me to my conduct. I am
afraid I must lay aside thoughts of being in Edinburgh this summer,
as our sacrament is not till the second Sunday of July, so that I would
not have a fortnight to stay, as Mr. and Mrs. Boyd spoke of being
here the beginning of August. It would not do for me to be from
home; however, if you think I should perform my promise to Sir
Alexander Dick's family, I shall not make my apology but endeavour
to pay my visit, though it should be short.
It is now late, so I must bid you adieu, with wishing every happy
thing to attend you, and assuring you how sincerely I am your affec-
tionate and obliged
M.M.
I wish this long letter may not tire you., but I hope you will answer
it and let me (know) particularly how you do.
"WEDNESDAY 21 JUNE. I breakfasted at Sandy Gordon's tete-
a-tete. He was for M. He and Claud and Miss Betty dined with us.
[Boswell to Dempster] 9
Edinburgh, [?2i] June [1769]
I WAS RECEIVED AT DUBLIN with open arms by a numerous and
creditable set of relations. But I give you my word, I found myself
under no engagements. The young lady seemed the sweetest, loveliest
9 This is the second portion of a letter to Dempster, of which the first part, dated
4 May at Donaghadee, covers much the same ground as BoswelFs letter to Tem-
ple of 3 May (p. 200) . This part is marked "sequel."
Edinburgh, 2 1 June 1 769 213
little creature that ever was born. But so young, so childish, so much
res and 720, that (between ourselves) I was ashamed of having raved
so much about her. I candidly told my situation: that I had come
quite contrary to my father's inclination. That was enough for the
present, and a genteel distance was the proper conduct. At the same
time I found myself like a foreign prince to them, so much did I take;
and I was assured of her having for certain 500 a year. You know me,
Dempster. I was often carried by fancy, like a man on the finest race-
horse; and, at all events, I would have her. But my cousin hung on
my heart. Her most desirable person, like a heathen goddess painted
alfresco on the ceiling of a palace at Rome, was compared with the
delicate little Miss. Her admirable sense and vivacity were compared
with the reserved quietness of the Heiress. I was tossed by waves and
drawn by horses. I resolved to fix nothing. My cousin gave me that
advice herself, for I had assurance enough to consult her deliberately.
My journey to Scotland with her, during which I was a little indis-
posed and had occasion to see a new proof of her affectionate atten-
tion, has inclined me to her more and more.
Here then I am, my friend, at no loss to determine whom I really
love and value of all women I have ever seen, but at a great loss to
determine whom I should marry. No man knows the scene of human
life better than you do. At least, no man gives me such clear views of
it. Therefore^ pray assist me. And whatever is the drawing of your
reason, pray let me have it agreeably coloured by your fancy. An
advice from you to a friend is singularly excellent for two reasons.
First, because it is always at least ingenious; and secondly, because
you are not a bit angry though he does not follow it. I depend on you,
my worthy Dempster, and am your ever affectionate friend,
J.B.
Vraye Foz. 1
THURSDAY 22 JUNE. Dupont and George Webster drank tea
with us. I was quite fixed to a comfortable, quiet life. I paid a visit to
Lord Barjarg.
FRIDAY 23 JUNE. I breakfasted at Sir George Preston's. My
father dined abroad. I had Grange to dine with John and me. Grange
1 The Boswell motto.
214 Edinburgh, 23 June 1769
and Dr. Cairnie drank tea with me, and consulted as to my managing
with economy that unlucky affair of Mrs. 2 Dr. Cairnie's
friendly activity pleased me.
SATURDAY 24 JUNE. Auchline and two daughters, a Mr. Mc-
Intosh, and Miss Betty Boswell dined and drank tea. I was obtuse at
night. My father talked to me of marriage. I avoided the subject. M.
had my heart.
SUNDAY 25 JUNE. I lay quietly abed all day and read Tissot
On the Health of Literary Persons and Strange' s Catalogue of Pic-
tures. The former gave me some curious thoughts. The latter cheered
me with fine ideas of painting and the lives of painters. I felt the
pleasures of taste to be exquisite. I thought of Margaret. But then,
money would enable me to buy pictures, and my Irish connection
make a pretty anecdote in my life. So I wavered. But then again,
Margaret was like Raphael's mistress; and what real happiness all my
life should I have with her! 3 I was just calm. Sir George Preston and
Dr. Webster visited me. At night I rose and read a good deal of the
Bible. I was a Christian, but regretted my not being more devout, more
regularly pious. This would make me happier.
MONDAY 26 JUNE. I have this summer session read and given
my opinion both of a new tragedy and a new comedy by Scotch au-
thors, the last by a lady. 4 Both pleased me. If every person would keep
an exact list of all the books or parts of books he has read, it might be
seen how a wit or a philosopher is gradually formed according to the
2 Mrs. Dodds. Johnston and Dr. Cairnie had also helped Boswell manage the af-
fair of his first illegitimate child, Charles, who died in 1764. (See BoswelPs Lon-
don Journal, 1950, p. 324.) With this entry Mrs. Dodds and Sally disappear for
ever from BoswelFs records. The complete absence of further references to
Sally almost certainly means that she died an infant, for we know from the
previous case of Charles that Boswell was not one to ignore his parental re-
sponsibilities. He would not have given an illegitimate daughter the advantages
of a daughter of the house, but he would certainly have kept in touch with her,
and would have made such provision for her care and upbringing as the gentle-
manly code demanded.
3 Raphael deferred his marriage to his betrothed, Maria Bibiena, a lady of rank
and fortune, and remained faithful to his mistress, who (according to tradition)
bore the name Margherita.
4 The tragedy, Chateaubriant, was by William Julius Mickle; the comedy was
probably Sir Harry Gaylove by Jane Marshall. See pp. 275 and 285.
Edinburgh, 2 6 June 1769 215
materials furnished to him. Lady Preston visited me this morning. I
received a letter from M. which made me value her more and more,
and one from Dempster in a gay, pleasant style which made me for a
little lay marriage out of my mind, and so relieved me. Miss Betty
Boswell, Professor Hunter, and M. Cauvin dined with us. I was quiet,
but dispirited on account of Corsica. My views of life sunk very low.
I wished merely for comfort. I drank tea at Crosbie's at a consultation,
my fourth only for this session. There seems to be little business. I
must study law.
TUESDAY 27 JUNE. The Reverend Mr. Foord, our housekeep-
er's brother, and Matthew Dickie dined with us. At seven I went to
the Goldsmiths' Hall to the first night of a new society for speaking on
different subjects. I was quite flat and had no ambition, yet I spoke
with force and spirit on Britain's right to tax her colonies.
WEDNESDAY 28 JUNE. I breakfasted at Bob Boswell's. I saw his
neat little house with satisfaction. Pope has a fine Imitation of Hor-
ace:
What, and how great, the virtue and the art
To live on little with a cheerful heart! &c. 5
One may see this every day in many families, and learn contentment
from example. I dined at Mr. John Chalmer's in company with two
of his brothers-in-law: one a merchant in London, the other belong-
ing to the sea.
THURSDAY 29 JUNE. I was called out of the Parliament House
by Mr. Capper, who had been in Corsica. He sat some time with me,
and gave me much interesting news of Paoli, and made me have bet-
ter hopes. I dined at Lord Monboddo's. We were alone before dinner a
while, and I talked to him of my marrying. He was first for the child,
as a man may form such a one as he pleases. But when I assured him I
had a bad temper, and he observed that it requires great patience to
breed a wife, as it does to breed a horse, he was clear for one already
formed, and for Margaret, saying, "How it will tell is nothing." We
were interrupted. I was quiet at dinner. I drank tea at home. Dupont
and George Webster were with us. My father and I supped at Balmu-
to's.
8 The Second Satire of the Second Book of Horace, 11. 1-2.
2 1 6 Edinburgh, 30 June 1769
FRIDAY 30 JUNE. Captain Lyon, an old schoolfellow who was
just come from Berlin, Captain Charles Cochrane, David Stewart,
Nairne, Balbarton, 6 and Mr. Stevenson, under clerk of session, dined
with us; and the two captains and Stevenson drank tea with me. I was
just resigned to my fate, and had no farther views. I had a most inter-
esting letter from Margaret. I was much affected by it, and wrote a
long letter to her. At night I was at Mr. Moncrieffe's, but finding brag
run high, I calmly gave it up and looked on. I was quite dull, think-
ing that I had given up all gay and brilliant schemes of marriage. At
supper they talked of the Duke of Kingston marrying Miss Chudleigh
from principles of honour and gratitude. 7 1 thought if he acted so to-
wards a woman of her character, what ought I to do for a woman of
real worth? I was resolved; and, what is really curious, as I considered
that I was to make up for the want of 10,000 by frugality, my mind
took the strongest bent that way, and I looked with aversion on a fine
table and every piece of elegance then around me, wishing just for
absolute plainness. I had, however, some suspicions that my father
intended to prendre encore une femme* and that soured me totally.
But I had no certainty for this.
SATURDAY i JULY. I walked out early and met the Sixth Regi-
ment of Foot and marched with my cousin, Captain Maxwell of Dal-
swinton, a captain in it, from about half a mile west from town,
through the city, and till the Regiment was fairly out at the Water
Get (gate) . I have always had a great fondness for the army, at least
for the show and parade of it, though I am fixed to the law. I am like
a man who has married one woman while he is in love with another.
Perhaps, indeed., if I had enjoyed my military mistress, I should have
been heartily tired of her. Captain Maxwell returned to town, and he
and his brother Hugh and Grange dined with us. The two former and
I drank tea with Miss Webster. 9 At night my father hinted to me
6 James Boswell, a distant cousin, .a man well advanced in years. Captain
Cochrane was also a relation.
7 She had long been his mistress before marrying him on 8 March 1 769. She was
also, though unknown to the Duke, married to the Earl of Bristol. Her trial for
bigamy in the House of Lords after the Duke's death was a cause celebre.
8 See p. 209 n.6.
9 Anne Webster, Dr. Webster's daughter, and cousin to the Maxwells as well as
to Boswell.
Edinburgh, i July 1769 217
something of what I had suspected. I was amazed and hurt. It threw
me quite into wild melancholy. It is many years since L, as it were,
pulled myself up by the roots from the place where nature placed me;
and though I have allowed myself to be brought back I have never
taken firm root, but am like a tree sunk in a flowerpot that may be
lifted at any time very easily. I must now endeavour to get matters
settled so as to determine either on remaining where I am, or going
somewhere else.
SUNDAY 2 JULY. I was at church all day decently. Between
sermons I called on Grange and told him my uneasiness and wild
schemes. He conjured me to lay aside such thoughts as would ruin
me, and bid me consider how much it would please my enemies. I
answered readily, "There is one comfort: it would not please them so
much as it would me." So wild yet is my imagination. But my honest
friend's advice weighed with me. Sir George, Lady Preston, and Miss
Preston dined with us. I drank tea at Mrs. Scott's and spoke French,
but was observed to look ill. I then called on Lady Crawford, who was
not able to see company. But I sat a long time with Miss Macredie
and had a very agreeable conversation with her, much indeed in
praise of M. But she hurt me by saying she thought M. would do very
well with the Irish doctor, and that she had a hankering kindness for
Mr. C. 1 Strange that I, whose heart has been tossed about by all the
winds, cannot bear to think that my friend has ever had a kindness
for anybody, though I am sure she never thought of anyone as she
does of me. I supped quietly with my father, and resolved to be pru-
dent.
MONDAY 3 JULY. My father and I dined at Mr. Kincaid's
where I drank tea. I then went to Mr. Charles Brown's and saw DOUG-
LAS, 2 who was just come to town. I had not seen him since the great
decision. He was dressing and without coat or waistcoat when I came
in. He expressed much joy on seeing me, and invited me to celebrate
his birthday at Bothwell Castle. I was truly happy and easy. But
wished I could feel the same joy I did on the glorious news.
1 Jane Macredie was a sister of Campbell of Treesbank's first wife a cousin by
marriage. The Irish doctor and Mr. C. are unidentified.
2 The names of Douglas and the Deity are frequently written large in Boswell's
script.
218 Edinburgh, 4 July 1769
TUESDAY 4 JULY. Whenever I do not mention my breakfasting,
dining, drinking tea, or supping somewhere abroad, it is to be under-
stood that I was at home. Business now began to look better. I walked
in the Meadow with Lord Monboddo and talked of M. He said there
was no question she was the woman for me, thought her being a little
older nothing, and said she'd bring me children worth rearing, which
is seldom the case nowadays. I mentioned to him my apprehensions
concerning my father. He said it would be very foolish at his time of
life a terrible thing a burthen on a family, &c. Bid me not delay
getting a settlement made, which my marriage only would do. I saw
Lord Monboddo's regard for me, and I was really happy with the
scheme of my lady. I wrote to her at night and was in fine spirits. I
drank tea at Mr. Thomas Boswall's.
[Received 4 July, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell] 3
Lainshaw, Saturday night, 11 o'clock [~i July 1769]
I RECEIVED THE BOOK 4 you sent me last post, for which, and your
friendly letter tonight, I return you my grateful thanks.
I shall read with attention the portions of Scripture you recom-
mend, and hope I shall find great comfort and satisfaction in so doing.
The pains you take to instruct me in what is of so much consequence
gives me the strongest proof of the sincerity of your friendship.
Prayers and wishes are all I have to offer in return for your goodness;
if they are heard, I'm sure you will be happy.
I was very uneasy at your silence; fearful I had offended, or that
want of health prevented you from writing. I own I am vastly too
anxious, but I cannot help it; much I have endeavoured to be less so,
but to no purpose.
I wish I had power to remove all uneasy thoughts from your mind
how happy would it make me! I would gladly recommend to you
resignation to the Divine Will in everything^ acknowledging that
whatever He does is well and wisely ordered. I cannot see that, should
3 The original of this letter, acquired separately from the Malahide collection,
has survived.
4 In later letters Miss Montgomerie refers to Andrew Michael Ramsay's Les
Voyages de Cyrus, Johnson's Rambler , and Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Senti-
ments. The book here referred to might be any one of the three.
Edinburgh, 4 July 1769 219
what you suspect take place, it could hurt you. 5 For God sake, do not
therefore take any rash resolutions. You are warm, I know, but surely
you will not allow any heat of passion to get the better of your good
sense.
I will not allow the character you give of yourself to be just. If
you are either sullen or discontented, it is your own fault. Naturally,
you are quite the reverse. Allow your good principles once to get the
better of bad habits, and you will be just as you could wish. Many
times, though we are desirous to be cured of our faults, we are loath
to part with them. Perhaps that may give you uneasiness without
your being sensible of the cause; but persevere in your good resolu-
tions, and you will find yourself quite a new man.
Captain Cuninghame speaks of being in Edinburgh in a fortnight.
He asked me this day to put off my going till then, which I promised,
but you know he sometimes changes his mind. I shall, however, en-
deavour to fix him one way or other and let you know what he deter-
mines on. You may believe the day you mention would be most agree-
able to me could I possibly bring it about, but should I not have it in
my power, I live in hopes of another opportunity.
Lady Crawford leaves Edinburgh in a week or two on account of
bad health. Lady Cathcart, I hear, is still far from being well.
I thought to have finished my letter for this night post, but I
could not possibly get it done; however, I shall end it tonight, as I lay
it down for a rule never to write on Sunday. I was at Treesbank on
Friday, where you was remembered by the Laird and Lady with
great kindness. I saw Hugh Campbell there, and Bruce at Kilmar-
nock. I believe they are close on the wing.
Should MacNeil lose his lands, it will put a stop to his matrimo-
nial affairs, which I'm told was to have been concluded immediately
on the favourable decision of the Lords. Perhaps it was a story of his
own inventing, but it gained credit here, as most reports of the kind
does almost everywhere. The lady, I believe I mentioned to you
formerly, is Miss Steuart of Steuart Hall.
I shall perhaps write again in a post or two and put it in some
other post office, as the Stewarton stamp may give rise to suspicions
when so often making its appearance. Good night, God bless you.
5 Lord Auchinleck's possible marriage.
22O Edinburgh, 4 July 1 769
Remember me, if you think proper, to all with you, and believe me,
my dear Jamie, your ever affectionate and obliged
M. MONTGOMERIE.
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie]
Edinburgh, 4 July 1 769
You HAVE VERY WELL OBSERVED that you cannot write as you
would speak. I am just in the same situation. It is impossible for me to
put upon paper the sentiments which I have felt since we parted; and
yet if we were together, I am very sure I could make you fully under-
stand them. I read your letters with such feelings as I never before
experienced. I have imagined such when I have thought of my grand-
father receiving a letter from Lady Betty. I do not imagine it possible
for a man to value and love at the same time a woman more than I do
my lady. You remember you said at Donaghadee that it would be
wonderful if I stood Dublin. You know what happened, and I be-
lieve both you and I thought more highly of my heart than we did
before. Indeed, you have often said you was of opinion I had no heart.
Is it so, think you? And do you intend to assume the merit of giving
me what I had not before? Or is it that fancy has so prevailed that my
heart could never appear? Methinks I may compare my heart to a
rock in the sea. While the tempest of passions blew and the waves of
vain folly beat, it could not be perceived. But now that these begin to
subside, it shows itself as firm as any rock that ever existed. Now that
I have told you all my history relative to yourself during such a num-
ber of years, you need not wonder at my present situation.
I thank you, my dearest friend, for your calm advice. I will try to
compose myself. But what I hinted to you shocked me so much that I
declare I was thrown into the wildest melancholy, and resolved to go
and at once break off all connection for ever, that I might no longer
struggle with uncertainty and a kind of unnaturality, if I may use the
word. You alone distracted my mind. But I believe I could settle that,
provided I myself was unhappy, for then nothing can be said. I am
more composed now, as from some late hints I imagine any scheme to
be concerning some other person whom I do not know. Believe me,
such a step in a family is terrible, and I fairly own to you, that unless
Edinburgh, 4 July 1 769 22 1
I had an absolute security against what might be done, I would re-
nounce all relation. The worst is that a wild, ruinous scheme in some
measure pleases my gloomy temper, and there is not a man alive to
whom poverty and obscurity would be easier. I shall, however, make
no rash vows, and when you come to town we shall have a long con-
versation on the subject. In the mean time, be quite easy as to my
lady. I am now better than at any time. I walked a long time with
Lord Monboddo today, and, without giving you any share in it,
talked to him fully. He was clear, and made me admire the scheme.
Is it not curious, my honest Margaret, to think how you and I are
now together? Upon honour, I was uneasy that I did not hear from
you yesterday. Are we not then pretty equal? You are, however, par-
tial as to my character. I assure you, you are. But so much the more
valuable are you to me. I have not yet heard from Ireland. I have
written to Mrs. Sibthorpe and said many sincere pretty things in your
name and mine. 6 1 beg you may come for the race week, at least a part
of it. T I wish to see you in a crowd at Edinburgh. You must undergo
all trials. There is nothing in the Stewarton postmark appearing as
often as you please.
This day poor Dr. MacNeil lost his cause. The Lords Barjarg,
Pitfour, Monboddo, and Auchinleck were for him and all the rest
against him, except one who did not vote and one who was absent. He
may have a chance here yet, and I imagine a good one upon an ap-
peal.
Adieu. Ever yours,
J.B.
WEDNESDAY 5 JULY. I was quite enamoured in the forenoon,
and impatient to have M. for certain. I drank tea at Balmuto's. Mrs.
Betty and I had much conversation about M. I was hurt by talking too
much of her faults. It made me miserable. But I went home, read
Tooke's Pantheon^ wrote to her, and recovered all my fondness and
really admiration.
6 Mary Ann Sibthorpe was a maternal relation of BoswelFs. Her husband, as
Boswell remarks in his autobiographical memoir in The European Magazine
(1791), was a gentleman of great consequence in the county of Down, and had
introduced him into good society there.
7 Race week started at Leith on 19 July.
222 Edinburgh, 6 July 1 769
THURSDAY 6 JULY. I heard a pleading in the case of the credi-
tors of Auchinbreck, and really shuddered to think of the conse-
quences of debt. I then waited on the Duke of Queensberry, who was
just come to town, and was well received. I dined at Mr. Charles
Brown's with Billy, 8 young Pitfour, Sir John Whitefoord, and Mr.
Stewart of Blantyre. After dinner Mr. Charles read us a genuine copy
of the Chancellor's speech on the Douglas cause. 9 1 drank tea at home
with my father and M. Dupont, and my father and I and John and
Mr. Claud and Mrs. Betty all supped at Mr, Thomas Boswall's. I liked
to see a good, open Scots wife, and a sensible, understanding man of
business.
FRIDAY 7 JULY. Messieurs Baillie, Colquhoun, George Fergus-
son, Blair, and Law, advocates, and William Macdonald and James
Frazer, writers, dined with us. I was dull enough, but contented to be
so. I had this day an answer from Temple, finely written, but prefer-
ring interest and ambition to the heart. 1 1 hoped easily to bring him
into my opinion. Yet I considered what I owed to my family. But then
again, insuring health, sense, and genius to my successor would be
better than great riches. A man too rich is like a man too fat. Besides,
I could save more than 10,000 portion by the manner in which I
would live with M. So I continued firm, but was uneasy at not hear-
ing from her for some days. At seven I was at Clerihue's at a consulta-
tion for Douglas against Duke Hamilton and Lord Selkirk. 2 I felt
myself weak and without much memory or application. I was hum-
ble and modest. I consoled myself that M. thought so highly of me,
and I hoped in time to acquire law and application. I rejoiced at being
a regular counsel for the great Douglas, for whom I had done so much
as a volunteer. Indeed, I received a handsome retaining fee, ten guin-
8 That is, Patrick Home of Billy.
Lord Camden had performed the brilliant feat of recapitulating the entire
cause from memory.
1 Temple in his letter of i July paid high compliments to Miss Montgomerie's
character, but insisted that the exalted position of BoswelFs family made it
impossible for him to marry from simple choice. "Your attachments of this sort,
you know," he added, a are violent while they last, but like the hot fits of an ague
of no long duration."
2 Douglas's counsels were taking further steps to repel the Hamilton claims, con-
sequent on the decision of the House of Lords.
Edinburgh, 7 July 1769 223
eas. The news of Duke Hamilton's death struck us. 3 We all supped
together.
SATURDAY 8 JULY. About noon Mr. Maconochie and I set out
in a post-chaise for Bothwell Castle, to be present at the celebration of
Douglas's birthday on Monday the 10 of July. We had a great deal of
conversation. I wavered somewhat as to my plan of life still: whether
to remain here, or go to the English bar. Maconochie showed himself
a little man of admirable common sense, observation, activity, and
really a good share of neat taste from having seen so much of the
world. We dined at Whitburn, and got to Bothwell Castle to tea.
I rejoiced to see the Duchess, now that all was well. Douglas and the
Duke of Queensberry were there before us, as also Captain William
Douglas of Kelhead and a Mr. Douglas of Fechil, somewhere in the
North, a young gentleman just come from Vienna, having travelled
several years. 4 He had much the foreign air, and brought my travels
fresh into my mind. I then for a little disliked the thoughts of
marriage. But then again, I thought it was time to settle and be com-
fortable; and my valuable M. had me all to herself.
SUNDAY 9 JULY. We sauntered about very agreeably. There is
a fine bank of wood here. Douglas and I got by ourselves a while. We
seemed great intimates. I told him I did not like to trust him abroad
till he had a wife and a child. "Then^" said he, "go along with me";
and described our travelling together, very agreeably. I told him it
would take me quite out of the line of the Scotch law which I had
taken, and I would not easily settle to it again. He argued that it
might be made up to me. I was, for a while, very fond of the thought,
which pleased my roving fancy and would furnish a good chapter in
my life. But I thought warmly of Margaret. Douglas said a very
good thing. "Bos well," said he, "you should now be just a worthy
country gentleman, and not seek any more fame. You never can make
yourself better known than you have done by your Account of
3 James George, seventh Duke of Hamilton, the nominal plaintiff in the Douglas
cause, was only fourteen years old when he died on this day.
4 Sylvester Douglas; he married Lord North's daughter and in 1800 was created
Baron Glenbervie. He was admitted to The Club in 1818. His Diaries (1793-
1819) are a lively and valuable record of the times. Captain William Douglas
was a maternal relation of BoswelFs.
224 Eothwell Castle, g July 1 769
Corsica. It is better known than Sir James Steuart's book. Be satisfied
with it. You have just fallen upon a lucky thought." I was struck with
this. We were very comfortable. The worthy Duke was very good
company. I was deeply in love with M., and often wished to slip
away and see her.
MONDAY 10 JULY. This was indeed a joyful day. The Duke
assured me that he would be ready to do me any service in his power.
We were busy in the morning concerting toasts and seeing that
all was in good order. A numerous company came. We were about
seventy at table. The Duke, Mr. Douglas, and I had each a copy of
sixteen excellent toasts. Two engineers attended and took charge of a
cannon and mortar. Whenever they were charged, they made a sign
with a handkerchief to a servant who was placed at the door, and who
gave notice to me. I then rose up and called with an audible voice,,
"Charged, all charged." Then a toast was given and I called "Fire!"
to the servant, who made a sign to the engineers, and the artillery
went off. 5 I was quite in my element, and had much satisfaction in
philosophizing upon the Douglas cause and the grand period then
before my eyes. I could not but drink pretty freely, but I was not
drunk. We had fireworks, bonfires, and a ball, and a crowd of country
people huzzaing. During the whole, I was constant to M. Mr. Maco-
nochie and I set out half an hour after eleven and drove all night. It
was very light, and I had a curious, agreeable, drowsy satisfaction.
TUESDAY 11 JULY. We came to Livingstone about three in the
morning, and got some fried chicken and a bottle of madeira with
Mr. Mackellar, the landlord, for company. I know not how it is, but I
am very fond of the road between Edinburgh and Auchinleck. It
brings a crowd of agreeable, family, sober ideas into my mind. How-
ever, travelling it as I now did seemed odd. It was like dancing in a
church. I got to town just in time to throw off my laced coat and
waistcoat, get on black clothes, and be ready at nine o'clock to attend
some causes in the Parliament House. A thousand questions were
put to me. I was sleepy all day, but stood it very well.
WEDNESDAY 12 JULY. I had received a letter from Sir John
Dick informing me that Paoli was safe at Leghorn. This was great
5 Boswell himself gave the last toast: "May fools become wise and knaves
honest."
Edinburgh, 12 July 1769 225
comfort to me. I was anxious and uneasy at having no letter from M.
this week. I was apprehensive she was offended with me. Dempster
was now in town. He came and saw me, and heard my anxious,
irresolute situation with patience and complacency. He bid me treat
it lightly. He said I was yet far from matrimony, and could easier
return than advance. That supposing Glasgow to be marriage and
Edinburgh the state of a bachelor, I was no farther on my road than
Fountainbridge. 6 But, upon the whole, he was for M. Said she must
have a noble mind, and that I would be happy. He put me in spirits.
I told him of my reception in Ireland. "You know," said I, "how finely
I can show away to strangers who see me for a little only. I can run the
gauntlet very well, but cannot bear being tied up to the halberts" a
curious representation of my small degree of merit, or rather knowl-
edge, that passes very well on a cursory view, but is found out to be
very superficial if deliberately examined. I drank tea with worthy
Johnston calmly and cordially.
THURSDAY 13 JULY. I received a letter from M. in a style that
made me think she was angry, and had given up all love for me. She
appeared to me so cool and indifferent that I was absolutely shocked.
I thought with a kind of distraction of the world in which one whom I
thought I knew so intimately could be so changeable. My head turned
giddy, and I am positive no man was ever more severely tortured by
love. Worthy Grange represented to me that it was all my own fault,
for I had acknowledged to him that I had written to her with such
censure that no woman of spirit could bear; and that I ought rather to
be grateful to her for writing at all, and should make an apology for
what I had written. He pacified me a little. But I have a wretched
satisfaction in being surly. I, however, was much affected, and could
for gleams of thought have almost cried; and, had she been near me,
would have fallen at her feet. Yet my obstinate, unreasonable pride
still rose again, I determined not to write till I was more moderate.
Dempster was gone home, which I regretted.
After the House I had a walk with Lord Monboddo. He said I
might be sure my father had thoughts de se remarier, and pushed me
to think of marrying directly. He was clear and irresistible for M. I
thought, "How curious is this compared with her last letter and its
6 A western suburb of Edinburgh, now part of the city.
226 Edinburgh, 13 July 1769
effects on me." Mr. Claud, Miss Betty, and Grange dined with us. I
was quite thoughtful and vexed on a complication of accounts: my
father, Margaret, and a very bad symptom of illness. I drank tea at
Grange's along with Mr. Macdonald, the surgeon. But was really
low. My heart was softened. I was all gratitude to M. But alas! what
could I do for her? I was ready to give her myself, but was persuaded
it would make her miserable.
At night I had a serious conversation with my father. He talked
of my not minding affairs at home. That gave me a good opportunity
to say that I really had no encouragement as I was in so incertain a
way, and that he even talked de se remarier. He in a manner acknowl-
edged his having such views. I spoke in the strongest terms, and fairly
told him he should be no more troubled with me. I was really calm
and determined. It is wonderful to think how he and I have differed to
such a degree for so many years. I was somewhat hurt to find myself
again thrown loose on the world. But my love of adventure and hope
made me surprisingly easy. My great unhappiness was thinking of
M. And yet in any way she could not but suffer, for I could not think
of marriage when he exposed himself at his years and forgot my
valuable mother. unfeeling world! I declare I am not, nor ever
could be, so much so. And yet, honest man! he talked of his affection
for me and what he had suffered on my account with a tone that
moved me, though I was quite irritated against him now. I am truly a
composition of many opposite qualities.
[Received 13 July, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
[Lainshaw,] Saturday [8 July 1769]
I AM MUCH OBLIGED TO YOU for both your letters, 7 and would have
taken the very first opportunity of telling you so had I not recollected
your intended visit to Bothwell Castle.
I heard of both the marriages. You ask me if I feel any regret when
I hear of a good match going off. I answer, not the smallest when I
have no attachment, notwithstanding the opinion a certain friend of
mine entertains of me. I have not yet perceived such charms in the
7 Boswell's letters of 4 and 5 July. Boswell's second letter, which is missing, must
have taxed Miss Montgomerie with too great "frankness to gentlemen."
Edinburgh, 13 July 1769 227
matrimonial state as to make me enter very deep into any plot to get
myself a member of that society; however, this I know will gain but
small credit, being inconsistent with female dependence. I must
therefore be satisfied to lie under the general aspersion. I could not
help being a little nettled at that part of your letter where you tax
me with a too great degree of frankness to gentlemen. Without any
regard to character, most men are more industrious to hide their
faults than a friend of mine has ever shown himself to be; and, as I
only meant civility, I see no reason why I should give myself the
trouble to pry into the real worth of a common acquaintance. Do not
imagine I mean by this to vindicate my behaviour; I am conscious I
have been on many occasions too free. It is on that account I have
often run out in praises of a prudent reserve which I'm afraid to
a person of a frank disposition will border a little on disguise; but,
believe me, most people will find this absolutely necessary to carry
them through life. Experience has taught me under what disad-
vantages one labours who is totally free of it. I have often wished to
follow the example of the lady you drank tea with in the many
amiable and praiseworthy parts of her character, economy not ex-
cepted; but, though in some measure blinded by partiality to those I
really like, my eyes are so far open to my own failings as to perceive
I have been as yet very unsuccessful. But surely you cannot term it
a weakness to be able to overlook the faults of our friends. I am so far
from, being of that opinion that I wish I could do it in a more extensive
manner. To be able to separate the offender from the offence appears
to me of some consequence; otherwise I'm afraid we shall run a risk
of hating both., which would be a breach of that universal charity so
often and strongly recommended by the great Pattern of all per-
fection.
I am most sincerely obliged to you for the friendly part you take
in what concerns me. My debt will very soon be paid without the
assistance of my board, 8 which you know is of some consequence to
8 So in the typescript. Margaret had the income on 1000, and may well have
paid board at Lainshaw. If the text is accurate, the passage perhaps means that
she had got behind in her board and had gone further into debt to somebody for
something perhaps the expenses of the Irish jaunt. Boswell may have offered
to ask Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame to forgive the board bill. But it is perhaps
228 Edinburgh., 13 July 1769
one of my way of thinking. I therefore beg you will not say a sentence
on this subject. Most people wish to arrive at a state of independence;
none likes the opposite situation worse than I. Why then shall I, by
my own extravagance and folly, make myself unhappy? You seem to
think the same frankness that has so great a share in my composition
will secure me against the effects of inconstancy. I have never as yet
been tried in that way, so cannot dispute your judgment. I have
sentiments on this head perhaps peculiar to myself, but as silence can-
not now be termed dissimulation, I beg to be indulged.
I have read your book and like it very much. I wish I could act up
to the precepts it contains. I should then run little risk of being too
deeply affected with any worldly concern. I am sorry you should find
it difficult to preserve your good opinion of your friend. With me it is
quite easy. You are therefore the less obliged, as it's generally accord-
ing to the trouble we have in obtaining a thing that we affix a value
to its possession.
I had wrote so far to be ready to send off tomorrow, when I received
your letter dated the /th. 9 1 cannot imagine why you have not heard
from me, as I wrote you an answer to your first letter that very post I
received it. Surely it is in the possession of somebody or other.
So far from blaming your friend, I admire him for the part he has
acted towards you. 1 1 only think a supposition that I could take amiss
his advice was owing to his not recollecting that the happiness of Miss
Montgomerie was so much connected with his friend's that, in judging
wisely for the one, they were certainly mutually obliged.
I am glad it will make you cautious. You know I recommended
silence to you, both on my own account and yours. The instability of
the human heart (not to fix it on either sex) should teach people to be
a little prudent and leave to time to determine the sincerity of their
affections. Why are you so gloomy? I cannot imagine what should
make you so. Has these religious principles you recommend to me no
influence over your own mind? Endeavour against it, I beg of you. It
more likely that the typist misread the manuscript, and that Margaret really
wrote "assistance of any body."
9 She is now writing on Monday 10 July.
1 Boswell had retailed to her the substance of the letter from Temple which he
had received on 7 July (see p. 222 M.I).
Edinburgh, 13 July 1769 229
is really sinful to indulge melancholy and discontent when the Al-
mighty has been so bountiful to you. Instead of allowing disagreeable
ideas to take possession of your mind, think on what cannot fail to fill
you with gratitude, and that will bring you to a cheerful, contented
way. I'm sure I sincerely wish you happy and do not despair of seeing
you so, if you yourself will but suffer it. Banish from your mind as
much as possible that subject that has caused you so much uneasiness.
You are secure and also free. 2
My sister disapproves of my staying at Preston. I believe she is
right; her arguments convince me. I must therefore lay aside all
thoughts of being in Edinburgh without my sister or the Captain
accompanies me.
I have many objections to the coming alone that I'm convinced
you will approve of when I have an opportunity of communicating
them to you. I must bid you adieu, with offering my duty to my uncle
and best wishes to John, and begging you will believe me your
sincerely affectionate and obliged
M.M.
I am very happy to hear your father is so well. I wish he could be
prevailed on to come this way. My sister expects him.
FRIDAY 14 JULY. I continued most unhappy. Having sat up
till four in the morning, I was very feverish. I loved M. from my
soul, but saw myself to be incapable of any lasting connection. Grange
and I walked down to Leith Links and saw a review of Gary's, the
Forty-third Regiment. It entertained me somewhat. One of the Scots
Greys, who stood as a sentinel to keep off the mob, did his duty so
faithfully and yet with so much good nature that I gave him a shilling
to drink. A little after this, I wanted to buy a bit of gingerbread. So, to
make a trial of human nature, I came to my Grey and asked if he
would give me some halfpence to buy some gingerbread. This was a
pretty severe trial, for many fellows would have damned me and
denied they had ever seen me. But my honest Grey said, "O yes, Sir,"
2 As preserved in the typescript, this letter and one from Margaret Montgomerie
to Boswell of 17 October 1769 (p. 334) contain near the end certain passages
chronologically incompatible with what precedes. The simplest explanation is
the most plausible: both letters occupied more than one sheet, and the typist
assembled the sheets wrongly. The following paragraphs have been transferred.
230 Edinburgh, 14 July 1769
and immediately pulled out a leathern purse. He had indeed but one
halfpenny, but he gave me it very cheerfully; and, instead of buying
gingerbread with it, I keep it with a piece of paper wrapped round it,
on which I have written the anecdote.
I came home for a little. My father came into my room and spoke
to me a little on indifferent subjects. But I shunned him. Grange and
I dined comfortably at Purves's. He advised me strongly against
any desperate scheme. But I was quite determined. Mr. Macdonald
blooded me today to begin the cure of a severe symptom. It is hard
for one night of Irish extravagance to suffer so much. I wrote a law
paper this afternoon. But could hardly fix my attention. I then went
to Mr. Moncrieffe's and played three rubbers at whist with him and
Lord Galloway and David Kennedy, and then supped. I was observed
to be very dull. It passed all to be on account of the fate of Corsica.
SATURDAY 15 JULY. I took a walk on the Castle Hill with Mr.
Maconochie, and told him my dilemma. He was vexed, but advised
me to be prudent. I became quite outrageous, and was mad enough
to ask him if it would not be allowable to cut off , before he ruined
his family? But this I certainly did not seriously mean for a moment.
I went in the stage to Pinkie, to have talked with Commissioner
Cochrane. But he was from home. My father and Miss Betty drove
past in a chaise. I was quite chagrined. I hired a chaise and went to
Sir Alexander Dick's. Amidst all my gloom the sweet place and
amiable people soothed me. I told him my dilemma. He was vexed,
and bid me do anything to prevent it. I was at home all the evening.
My father sent for me to him. But I would not sit down. I just spoke
a few sullen words. I was quite gone.
SUNDAY 16 JULY. After a wretched, feverish night I awaked
in a dreadful state. I have no doubt that evil spirits, enemies to man-
kind, are permitted to tempt and torment them. "Damn him. Curse
him," sounded somehow involuntarily in my ears perpetually. I was
absolutely mad. I sent for worthy Grange, and was so furious and
black-minded and uttered such horrid ideas that he could not help
shedding tears, and even went so far as to say that if I talked so he
would never see me again. I looked on my father's marrying again as
the most ungrateful return to me for my having submitted so much
to please him. I thought it an insult on the memory of my valuable
mother. I thought it would totally estrange him from his children by
Edinburgh., 16 July 1769 231
her. In short, my wild imagination made it appear as terrible as can
be conceived. I rose and took a little broth, and, in order to try if what
I liked most could have any effect on me when in such a frame, I went
to the chapel in Carrubber's Close, which has always made me fancy
myself in heaven. I was really relieved. I thought of M., and loved
her fervently. But I was still obstinate. A clergyman from Leith
preached on these words, "I have learned, in whatever state I am,
therewith to be content." 3 He said many good things on contentment,
and that the text informed us it was to be learnt. I was averse to
learn any good.
I then went and drank tea at the Miss Mackenzies'. M. again here
in fancy. I am really constant. I wanted to be gloomy and like a man
of such resolutions as I then had. But the agreeable company around
me and my own gaiety insensibly made me otherwise. I then sat a
while with Lady Crawford, with whom I have always a great deal
of sentimental conversation. She made me love M. still more. I should
have mentioned that in the forenoon my father wanted to speak to
me, and I absolutely refused it by running away from him. I was very
gloomy at night.
MONDAY 17 JULY. A kind letter from M., without taking any
notice of our late quarrel, warmed my heart. I went and breakfasted
with my uncle, the Doctor, who agreed with me in thinking my father
would marry again, and said he had heard it. The family madness
was kept up to a great pitch by the Doctor and me. 4 1 was determined
to throw myself on the wide world. I went and sat a while with Lady
Crawford, and told her both my uneasiness and my love. She was
3 Philippians 4. 11.
4 Here is a clue to part of the secret of Boswell's "madness" overlooked by those
who believe him to have been, at least at times, actually insane. There was un-
doubtedly insanity in the family. His brother John was sometimes violently
insane and had to be locked up; his daughter Euphemia suffered from delusions
of persecution and of grandeur. But BoswelFs "madness" was partly posturing,
partly the common depression of spirits suffered by all sensitive men who feel
themselves thwarted in their ambitions. He rather liked to see himself in the
role of madman, and in the Journal sometimes enacted that part with the same
gusto with which he enacted the parts of traveller, lover, philosopher, or lit-
terateur. Sometimes genuine "hypochondria" plunged him into despair and
moral lethargy. In short, he was childish, unreasonable, above all melancholy;
but not mad.
232 Edinburgh, 17 July 1769
anxious to have me prevent the one, and clearly of opinion for the
other. I took my clerk, Mr. Brown, to dine with me at Purves's. I had
been with the Duchess and Douglas in the morning. At night I
laboured at the law. but could hardly fix my attention at all. I wrote
to Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame to beg she would interpose in the
unlucky affair. I also wrote to Margaret and to Temple.
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie]
Edinburgh, 1 7 July 1 769
MY DEAREST PEGGIE, The enclosed will account to you for my
long silence. 5 It has been long in comparison of our frequent corre-
spondence. Though your last letter but one made me imagine you had
given me up, and I was for a while piqued and enraged, you see how
humble I became, and how a true passion tears the heart. But my
pride has made me keep the enclosed by me, and since I wrote it I
have thought seriously that I am not fit for marriage with any woman.
If I could behave so to such a valuable and affectionate woman as you,
what a shocking temper must I have! The frankness for which I
blamed you is really a perfection, for I never saw you improperly free.
My present situation is dreadful. What an infamous woman must
she be who can impose on an old man worn out with business, and
ruin the peace of a family! I am employing all prudent methods to
prevent the ruinous scheme. If it shall go on, I am fixed in my resolu-
tions. You must know that Douglas has pressed me to go abroad with
him. This will be a very honourable employment for a year or two
of my life. I shall not, however, determine hastily on anything.
What you tell me of my servant enrages me beyond measure. 6
Pray allow me to tell the rascal his villainy and turn him off. But yoii
may depend on my doing nothing without your permission. Be not
uneasy, my dear friend. Malicious reports against you can gain no
credit. Your letter today has made me write this night. Be persuaded
that my heart is wholly yours, though I am (perhaps madly) uneasy
at what I formerly wrote to you about a certain gentleman. Adieu.
J.B.
5 The enclosure, now missing, was apparently an apology, and possibly a further
statement of his intentions toward her.
6 The reference to Thomas is unexplained.
Edinburgh, Summer 1 769 233
[EDITORIAL NOTE: The following essay, preserved among Bos-
well's miscellaneous papers, is undated but clearly was written dur-
ing the summer of 1 769 between the time when Boswell learned of
his father's desire to remarry and the settlement of his own marital
plans. The manuscript is at least a second draft, and very possibly was
intended to serve as fair copy for the printer, though we have no
evidence that it was ever published. "On Second Marriages" may be a
reworking of an older narrative Boswell had come across, but it is
more likely that "Queen Anne's Reign" and the English locale had
their origin in the fancy that turned Douglas into Dorando and Edin-
burgh into Seville. The essay is a striking instance of how Boswell's
imagination responded to the factual, when given a free rein, and
provides as well a full and revealing account of his attitude towards
his father and his father's prospective bride.]
ON SECOND MARRIAGES: A TRUE STORY
IN QUEEN ANNE'S REIGN
The duties which become essential to a man from the relation of
family in the present state of society are most important and serious,
and a neglect or transgression of them is often attended with such
fatal consequences as I am now about to relate. A gentleman of
distinction in Berkshire was at a proper age married to one of the best
women that ever lived. He was one of those men of strong sense,
prudence, and application to business, whose usefulness to society
makes them generally respected. His lady brought him several chil-
dren, all of whom she lived to see in a fair way of succeeding in the
world, and then was carried off by a sudden illness. The gentleman's
eldest son was then abroad upon his travels, but, being deeply affected
with the loss of his valuable mother, and the distress into which his
father was thrown, he returned home immediately. Though he had
a distinguished genius, and a fire and impetuosity which could hardly
brook the least control and disposed him to enjoy all the variety of
life, regard for his father and for the family from which he was
descended made him resolve to give up all the gay schemes of happi-
ness which he had formed, and submit himself to a plan of living
which he considered to be a perpetual succession of disgust. In order
to this, he deadened his mind gradually, till he brought himself
234 Edinburgh, Summer 1 769
to a kind of state of indifference, forced himself to take a share in
the dull employments and insipid society around him, and at length
brought himself to be perfectly content. While the truly dutiful son
conducted himself in this manner, the father, who had appeared
almost inconsolable for the death of his wife and had been warned
of mortality by a severe distemper, gave all the reason in the world
to believe that he could have no other intention than to pass the
rest of his days with a becoming gravity and abstraction, and would
wish to see his heir assume in some measure the place which, in
the course of nature, he was destined one day to fill. But instead of
this, in little more than two years after the death of his wife, the father
began to think of a second marriage. He communicated his design to
his son with that awkward hesitation which generally shows itself
when we are about to do anything of which we are ashamed. The
young gentleman was shocked at the idea. He could hardly allow
himself to believe such a thing of his father. Being of a melancholy
temper, he began to doubt the reality of all apparent worth when he
saw so shameful an instance of selfishness. His heart grew big, and he
with difficulty could restrain himself from breaking out into sallies of
indignation. He employed a prudent person to talk to the lady whom
his father had in view, and to represent to her that if she complied
with his proposals she would not only have the meanness to become
the legal prostitute of libidinous old age, but would be the cause of
destroying the peace of a family and ruining a young man of merit.
He at the same time remonstrated to his father in the strongest terms,
conjured him to remember his deceased spouse, and told him plainly
that the keenness of his feelings were such that if his father put his
scheme in execution, he would from that moment renounce him for
ever. But vile interest in the one, and wretched appetite in the other
of these parties prevailed over every proper sentiment, and produced
a second marriage. The son, who was equally determined as he was
warm, quitted his ungrateful father and retired to a distant country,
where he indulged his gloomy reflections without restraint, and would
upon no account listen to any terms of reconciliation. The father soon
perceived that age and distemper are miserably suited for conjugal
society, and for all the art of his new wife he saw her disgusted
with his nauseous fondness. The respectable character which he had
Edinburgh, Summer 1769 235
maintained was now sunk in folly and dotage. He became the sub-
ject of drunken jests, and turpe senilis amor peccet ad extremum
ridendus 7 were every day applied to him. None of his children would
see a man who, for the selfish gratification of at most but a few years,
had exposed himself, affronted the memory of their mother, driven
from his country a son who did honour to it, and ruined a family
which had supported itself for ages. He died in great agony both in
body and mind, and may serve to teach decorum and generosity of
conduct to those who come after him.
TUESDAY 18 JULY. I continued as bad as ever. I appeared be-
fore my father in some causes, and had a strange satisfaction in plead-
ing calmly to a man with whom I could not have any intercourse
in private. I felt a kind of regret to leave the Parliament House, to
which I have a kind of family attachment. But I considered all attach-
ments to be now at an end. I was really in a terrible state. Lord Mon-
boddo desired to speak with me after the House. I accordingly took a
walk with him, when he told me that he had just had a long and
serious conversation with my father, who had complained to him
of my behaviour, told him that it was my choosing to live in the irreg-
ular state of a bachelor which made him think of marrying again,
and my Lord said if I would not alter my plan he was right. "But,"
said he, "will you let me negotiate between you? Yours is an estate
and a family worth preserving." I said I could marry no other woman
but Margaret. "Well," said he, "be serious and firm, and I hope to
settle matters." This gave me quite a new set of thoughts.
I had told Douglas my uneasiness, and he promised to be my firm
friend in all events. I went in the coach with the Duchess to Lord
Chief Baron's, where we dined along with the Duke of Queensberry
and Douglas. I was in perfect good spirits. The sight of grandeur made
me for a second or two consider if I was not wrong to give up all
schemes of marrying for ambition and wealth. But M. soon brought
me back. I soon saw that my real happiness is not in such objects.
That I only love sometimes to contemplate them, and that I would
do it with double satisfaction when I have Margaret for my com-
7 "An old man's love is shocking ridiculous, he transgresses in his last years"
(Ovid, Amores, I. ix. 4; Horace, Epistles, I. i. 9).
236 Edinburgh, 18 July 1769
panion. Every different attempt to make me waver makes my love
steadier. The Duchess and I paid a visit to Lady Alva and the young
Countess of Sutherland, 8 and then returned to town, the mob huzzaing
and crying, "Douglas for ever!" I supped with my father. But Mr.
Brown was with us, as I wished to avoid particular conversation. We
were, however, tolerably well.
WEDNESDAY Q JULY. Mr. Walter Campbell and his wife,
Mrs. Ritchie, Lord Monboddo, and Tilquhilly dined with us. I was
persuaded to go to the Assembly. There was a very fine company, and
I felt myself wonderfully calm and constant. I renewed my acquaint-
ance with my old friend, Lady Colville. I was mad enough to dance
one country dance. Mrs. Walter Campbell was my partner, which
made me dance with violence. It did me much ill. I supped at Queens-
berry House with the Duke and the three Douglases. We were gay
and easy. I thought all the time how perhaps I should by and by be in
a company. Talking of the Hamilton Lords, 9 the Duke said, "Why,
the devil entered into them." "Yes," said I, "just as he did into the
swine."
THURSDAY 2O JULY. I was hurt by having danced. David Arm-
strong, Grange, and I took a chaise and saw a race at Leith. At night
I resolved to put M.'s affection to the strictest trial. I wrote to her,
taking no notice of any hopes of a compromise, but told her plainly
that if she would go off with me and live on my 100 a year, with the
interest of her 1000, 1 was ready to marry her. I bid her think fully,
and give me no reasoning but a direct answer. I wrote to Temple of
this, while I told him of the prospect of a compromise. This was truly
romantic, and perhaps too severe a trial of a woman of so much good
sense and so high a character.
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie]
[On the outside Boswell has written] Read this in your own room,
and think as long as you please. Only let me have a positive answer as
I am quite dependent on you.
8 Very young; in fact, only four. "Lady Alva" was her grandmother.
9 Either the five members of the House of Lords who had protested against the
Lords' decision in favour of Douglas, or the Lords of Session who had earlier
sustained the claim of the Hamilton side that he was a supposititious child.
Edinburgh, 20 July 1769 237
Edinburgh, 20 July 1 769
MY DEAR COUSIN, I know I shall have a friendly and affection-
ate answer to the last letter which I wrote to you. But in the mean
time, I am going to write you a calm and determined epistle, in few
words but of infinite importance to us both.
You never knew till we were in Ireland that I had at different
periods of my life been deeply in love with you. That has, however,
been the case; and had not vanity or some other artificial motive made
me, from time to time, encourage my fancy in other schemes, the
genuine inclinations of my heart would ever have been constant to
my dear Peggie Montgomerie. As it was, you know how fond I have
been of you, and how I have at different times convinced you that my
love for you was truly sincere. While wavering in my resolutions, I
was always determined that if your happiness depended upon having
me, I would not hesitate a moment to make my best friend happy.
And I accordingly begged in a late letter that you would tell me
freely if that was the case.
I was at the Assembly last night, and saw a variety of beauties. I
was not inconstant to you for a moment. Indeed, after standing the
trial you did in Ireland, there could be little fear. Any other person
than you would be apt to disregard what I say in my present situation.
But I think I may trust to the generosity of a noble-minded woman,
as Dempster calls you. I therefore make you this proposal. You know
my unhappy temper. You know all my faults. It is painful to repeat
them. Will you, then, knowing me fully, accept of me for your hus-
band as I now am; not the heir of Auchinleck, but one who has
had his time of the world, and is henceforth to expect no more than
100 a year? With that and the interest of your 1000, we can live in
an agreeable retirement in any part of Europe that you please. But
we are to bid adieu for ever to this country. All our happiness is to be
our society with each other, and our hopes of a better world. I confess
this scheme is so romantic that nothing but such love as you showed
at Donaghadee could make you listen to it. Nor ought I to be surprised
if a woman of your admirable sense and high character with all who
know you should refuse to comply with it, should refuse to sacrifice
every prudent consideration to me. But as I love you more than I can
express, you will excuse me for making this proposal. I am ready
238 Edinburgh, 20 July 1 769
upon these terms to marry you directly. And, upon my honour, I
would not propose it now, were I not fully persuaded that I would
share a kingdom with you if I had it. I also solemnly promise to do
everything in my power to show my gratitude and make you happy.
Think seriously of this. Give me any positive answer you honestly
can. But I insist on no mediocrity, no reasoning, no hesitation. Think
fully, and one way or other tell me your resolution. I am much yours,
JAMES BOSWELL.
FRIDAY 21 JULY. I dined at Lord Monboddo's with the Duke
of Queensberry, Douglas, &c. All went on with politeness and most
agreeable society. I passed the evening quietly at home.
SATURDAY 22 JULY. I breakfasted at Queensberry House with
all the excellent friends there. Then Douglas carried me in his phae-
ton to the race at Leith. It was a handsome carriage with pretty
mares, and he drove with great spirit among the crowd of company,
always coming to pay his attentive duty to the worthy Duke. I was
exceedingly happy. I exulted in reflecting that the author of the
Essence had his charge so prosperous. As we drove home, I tried to
make Douglas talk of immortality. He seemed to believe, and be ani-
mated with the idea of seeing the great who have appeared in the
world. After the race, the Duke, Lord Monboddo, &c., and I went
with Douglas to Willison's, and I made him fairly sit once to his pic-
ture, in order to begin it. I dined quietly at home with my brother.
Grange drank tea with me. At night my father, having dined abroad
and drank, cheerfully spoke to me of Lord Monboddo's telling him
of my scheme as to M. I endeavoured to be as reserved as possible, but
insensibly he and I fell into our usual bad humour. It is hard.
SUNDAY 23 JULY. I went to Mr. Erskine's church and heard
Dr. Gibbons preach. This was an English clergyman recommended
to me by Mr. Dilly. 10 In the morning I had been at the burial of John
Mair, an extractor and the best formalist about the House, and then
I breakfasted with Professor Wallace, who showed me a genealogy
of the family of Fullarton vouched by papers for above five hundred
years. It is curious how pleasing variety is. Mr. Wallace's style of
conversation amused me much, and when I saw his law papers neatly
10 It was Thomas Gibbons, a Nonconformist minister, whom Johnson invited to
come "and dawdle over a dish of tea in an afternoon" (Life of Johnson, 3 June
1781).
Edinburgh, 23 July 1769 239
bound up, with accurate indexes, and amongst them some of my own
writing, the business of a Scotch lawyer acquired value in my mind,
and I thought of continuing at it even in the worst event. But while I
was in church, I thought that if M. gave me a prudent, cold, evasive
answer, I would set sail for America and become a wild Indian. I had
great thoughts of my acquiring strength and fortitude, and could not
regret much leaving all I had known, as I should adore God and be
happy hereafter. Between sermons, I called on Lady Preston and told
her my dilemma. She was vastly hurt, and joined with me in rage. I
then went to Queensberry House. I told my cousin, Willy Douglas,
my dilemma. He was struck and said, "I sincerely commiserate you."
The worthy Duke had just a select company of us to dinner. He
was very good company, and told us of a Scotch servant in London
whom he turned off one day for drunkenness. Next day the fellow
appeared at dinner. "How now!" said the Duke. Said the servant: "If
ye dinna ken when ye hae a good servant, I ken when I hae a good
master; and I'm no ga'in awa." All the company interceded, and he
continued. Captain Douglas and I drank tea at the Miss Mackenzies'
very agreeably. I then supped at the Duchess of Douglas's with the
worthy Duke, Douglas, &c.
MONDAY 24 JULY. The Commissioner called on me a little. I
told him my dilemma. He could not believe it. But when I raged, he
stopped me and said, "No. You must make the best of it." His cool
sense for a moment communicated itself to me. But I soon regained
my usual warmth. I received a letter from my brother David, which
pleased me much and gave me spirits. Dr. Gibbons and a young
student of physic along with him, Mr. Harris a London dissenting
clergyman, the Reverend Messrs. Walker and Erskine, and Mr. An-
drew Hunter the preacher, dined with me, my father being at a Jus-
ticiary trial. I made myself excellent clerical company and was won-
derfully well.
TUESDAY 2 5 JULY. The important answer from M. was brought
to me in the Parliament House: "I accept of your terms." For a
minute or two my habits of terror for marriage returned. I found
myself at last fixed for ever; my heart beat and my head was
giddy. But I soon recovered and felt the highest admiration and grati-
tude on a conduct so generous. Her letter was finely written, and did
me more real honour than anything I have ever met with in life. I
240 Edinburgh, 25 July 1769
determined to make it my study to do all in my power to show my
sense of her goodness. And I became calm and easy, thinking that as
I was now fixed in the most important concern, everything else was
but secondary. The Commissioner dined with us. At night I was at
the Society, and spoke against repealing the Marriage Act. 1
[Received 25 July, Margaret Montgomerie to Bos well]
[Enclosed in a wrapper endorsed by Boswell] The most valuable
letter of my valuable friend, which does honour to both her and me.
Vraye Foi. 2
[Lainshaw] Saturday [22 July 1769]
I HAVE THOUGHT FULLY as you desired, and in answer to your let-
ter I accept of your terms, and shall do everything in my power to
make myself worthy of you. J.B. with 100 a year is every bit as val-
uable to me as if possessed of the estate of Auchinleck. I only regret
the want of wealth on your account, not being certain if you can be
happy without a proper share of it. Free of ambition, I prefer real
happiness to the splendid appearance of it. I wish you could meet me
at Glasgow on Saturday. Could you not come that length in the fly
and return on Monday? Let me know and I'll be there any day you
will appoint.
My heart determines my choice. May the Almighty grant His
blessing and protection, and we need not be afraid; His providence
extends over all the earth, so that wherever you go I shall willingly
accompany you and hope to be happy. Had you been, as you mention,
in your former prosperity, I should perhaps have indulged myself in
female prudence, &c., but I think this is not now the time for dis-
simulation. I am therefore ready to meet you when you please and to
join my fate to yours. Is not this as full an answer as you could wish?
Say nothing of the affair to your father, as you are sure he will never
consent; and to disobey after consulting is worse than doing it without
saying a word.
1 An Act passed in 1753 requiring that all marriages in England, with a few
exceptions, had to be performed by an Anglican priest, or in Scotland by a Pres-
byterian minister, according to certain established rules.
2 The original of this letter has survived.
Postscript to James Boswell's letter of proposal to Margaret Montgomerie
(20 July 1769), and his endorsement on her letter of acceptance (22 July
1769) . From the originals in the Yale University Library
Edinburgh., 25 July 1769 241
My heart is more at ease than it has been of a long time, though
still I feel for what I'm afraid you suffer. Be assured, my dear Jamie,
you have a friend that would sacrifice everything for you, who never
had a wish for wealth till now, to bestow it on the man of her heart.
I wrote two letters, one on Friday and one on Tuesday. I hope the
contents of neither have offended you. My anxiety about your happi-
ness made me use every argument in my power to prevail on you to
stay at home. In hopes of meeting with you soon, I shall only add that
I most sincerely am, my dear Jamie, your faithful and affectionate
M.M.
Sunday. I did not get this sent off yesterday, so have had one other
night to think of it, and am still determined in my resolution to go
with you where you please. Write me soon and let me know if you can
meet me,
WEDNESDAY 26 JULY. I was in great uneasiness on account of
my illness, but Macdonald and Dr. Cairnie, whom I also consulted,
made me give over terrible apprehensions. I was this afternoon at a
meeting of the late Mr. Adie's trustees. At night I wrote to M. She
had proposed to meet me on Saturday at Glasgow. But I could not get
so far, as the Duke was to dine with us. I begged to know if she could
come to Whitburn. I was very desirous to see her.
THURSDAY 27 JULY. Cowhill, Skerrington, and Matthew Dick-
ie dined with us. Dupont drank tea, and then he and I and my brother
went and saw Willison's pictures.
FRIDAY 28 JULY. I was chancellor to the jury who served
Horatius Cannan of Barlay heir to his father and grandfather. I liked
a ceremony of this kind, and was pleased to think of my standing
upon record in it. We all dined with the heir at Small's. It was quite a
comfortable Edinburgh dinner, and I was neither better nor worse
than my neighbours, but just plain and content. I supped at Mr.
Moncrieffe's. It was a jovial meeting over a capercailye. 3
SATURDAY 29 JULY. This has been a good week for me in the
way of business. I have cleared twenty guineas, and have really been
able to do very well. I am ready for whatever may happen. My dear-
est Margaret is my great object. The Duke of Queensberry, Douglas,
3 A wood grouse from the Highlands.
242 Edinburgh, 29 July 1 769
Lords Pitfour and Monboddo, Mr. Stewart of Blantyre, Mr. Solicitor,
Captain Douglas, Mr. Douglas of Fechil, and Lord Chief Baron dined
with us. Things went on admirably. I then went with the Duke,
Douglas, &c., to Lord Advocate's, 4 from whence Mrs. Montgomery,
Lady Mary Hay, and her aunt, Miss Lockhart, were attended by us
to Comely Garden. Lady Mary was a fine, good-humoured young
lady of a noble carriage, stately person, and the daughter of the Lord
High Constable of Scotland. 5 1 was truly desirous to have a match be-
tween her and Douglas. We walked some time in the garden, then
went in and drank tea, I in excellent spirits observing Douglas and
Lady Mary taking to one another. They danced a country dance, and
I stood with my black clothes and my cane, looking on as grave and
anxious as if I had been their parent. There was a good company. I
was quite constant to Margaret. I had once been with her here, and I
had some conversation about her tonight with her correspondent,
Miss Kitty Mackenzie, which pleased me more than I can tell. I was
all affection and admiration. The Duke and Douglas and the Captain
and I supped at the Duchess's, where we met my father, and my uncle
the Doctor, and David Moncrieffe and Maconochie. We were all
friends and very good company.
I find it is impossible to put upon paper an exact journal of the
life of man. External circumstances may be marked. But the varia-
tions within, the workings of reason and passion, and, what perhaps
influence happiness most, the colourings of fancy, are too fleeting to
be recorded. In short, so it is that I defy any man to write down any-
thing like a perfect account of what he has been conscious during one
day of his life, if in any degree of spirits. However, what I put down
has so far an effect that I can, by reading my Journal, recall a good
deal of my life.
SUNDAY 30 JULY. I was at church all day. I fancied M. sitting
beside me as she used to do. Sir George 6 and George Webster dined
4 Chief prosecutor for the Crown in Scotland. The office was held at this time by
James William Montgomery, later Lord Chief Baron of the Court of Exchequer
and a baronet.
5 The Earl of Erroll, in whose title the office is hereditary. Lady Mary (just
fifteen when this was written) next year married General Scott of Balcomie,
but before long ran off with Captain James Sutherland, later fifth Lord Duffus.
She died in 1782, aged only twenty-seven.
Edinburgh, 30 July 1 769 243
with us. It was curious to observe how my father's manner awed and
checked the freedom of conversation. This is really hard to bear. I
went out with Ulbster to his house in a park off the Pleasance, and
drank tea with Lady Janet. It pleased me to see his children coming so
well on, and I found myself wonderfully regarded here. 7 Jamie Col-
quhoun was here. I applied to him, who is narrow and loves to stay at
home, a droll story which George Webster told me of the late Presi-
dent Craigie's eldest son, who, when his father asked him to go abroad
and offered him 400 a year, answered, "Very well; and wha'll that
come off at the lang run?" Such a speech I think I never heard. I was
in very good humour today. I recollected my former follies; I saw
that my father had indulged and forgiven me more than I could a
son of mine if I had one. I therefore would have no resentment against
him, let him do as he pleased. I would just consider his marrying
again as a fatality by which he was killed and his estate overwhelmed,
and, without farther connection either with the one or the other, I
would go and live as easily and agreeably as possible with my dearest
M. I wished to tell him something like this at night. But I found my-
self kept back as usual.
MONDAY 31 JULY. The Commissioner carried me out in his
chaise to Pinkie, where I dined with him most comfortably along
with my brother John. The Commissioner did not seem very fond of
my scheme with M. However, that will be got over. He spoke to me
very seriously against being outrageous on my father's marrying
again, and really his notions were rational, I came to town in the fly.
A German was in it, and I spoke to him in his own language, but
found myself much rusted. At night I was quiet at home.
[Received 31 July, Margaret Montgomerie to Bos well]
[Lainshaw] Saturday [29 July 1769]
I WAS so HURRIED and had such a severe headache when I wrote
my last letter, I had it only in my power to tell you I could not meet
you at Whitburn. The Captain was so very ill I thought it was im-
proper for me to leave my sister, but if he is tolerably well I shall be
7 George Sinclair of Ulbster and Lady Janet, his wife. One of the children, John,
was later a baronet, first president of the Board of Agriculture, and compiler of
244 Edinburgh., 31 July 1769
at Glasgow on Saturday, in case you think the journey will do you
no harm; but I entreat you will not think of coming without you can
do it safely, as a few weeks will soon pass over, when I hope to be
happy with you here. You must, however, be punctual in writing, as
your silence would now affect me very much. I hope nobody knows
of my letter you received in the Parliament House. You must not
mention it, as it would not be right anybody knew of it but yourself.
I wonder you could ever imagine I would write you an evasive answer
to yours. Have you not often experienced my sincerity? How could
you, then, imagine me such a dissembling, mercenary being? Believe
me, without the least hopes of a reconciliation, and with the prospect
of setting out in a few weeks, perhaps in a few days, I wrote my letter.
I had my uneasy reflections also, but they were quite different from
yours. I was fearful you would have the feelings you describe, but I
dreaded they would not so soon wear off. I was, however, satisfied
that, notwithstanding my frankness in declaring my sentiments and
resolutions, I would not take any advantage of the offer you made me
if you was not perfectly convinced that, in making the proposal, you
consulted your own happiness. I am much obliged to you for acting
so honestly by me. You told me what was your situation when you
read my letter; I have therefore no doubts of the sincerity of the dec-
laration that follows. Believe me, I am perfectly satisfied of the reality
of that affection you express, and shall make it my constant endeav-
our to be worthy of it. I neither fear for you nor myself. I am conscious
my conduct will be such as you must approve, and I am likewise sen-
sible your natural dispositions are good. I have therefore no doubts of
our being constant friends. You must not indulge melancholy. You
know it's what we may easily bring upon ourselves, but what is very
hard to remove. Be therefore as cheerful as possible from this generous
consideration: that the happiness of your friend depends on yours.
Did you not speak of buying some Holland for shirts? I wish you
would get some female friend to choose it and send it to me. I'll get
them made for you. Let it be pretty fine, as I hate to see you with
coarse linens. Don't buy any stockings for me. I assure you I want
nothing. I am determined to be a perfect economist now, so you must
not put me out of my way.
The Captain is still very much distressed. He gets no sleep at
Edinburgh, 31 July 1769 245
nights, which makes the fever continue with him. Tell me if your
father knows your resolutions with regard to me. If he does, and
comes this way, I shall be frightened to face him. Have you heard
from David? Poor man, I long to hear how he does. Pray, is the Lieu-
tenant with you? Has he received his garters? This will reach you on
Monday; I hope therefore to hear from you on Tuesday. You see I
am selfish in some respects, for, notwithstanding your telling me how
much you was busied, I scruple not to put you to additional trouble.
Could you send me a few franks, as I never see Lord Eglinton now to
ask them from him? I doubt you pay double postage for my letters.
Write me if you do. You never mention the lady's name you suspect
to be your father's favourite, but I imagine it must be B.B. 8 I believe
I told you I had received a letter from Aunt Boyd. I had also one from
her husband, but not a sentence of their coming to Scotland.
I see by the papers your friend General Paoli is on his way to Eng-
land. He will surely visit Scotland also. The Captain has got your dog.
I was obliged to write James Bruce to send him. I ought to have asked
your liberty first, but he was so impatient I had not the time, but I
know you will forgive me.
I must now bid you adieu in hopes of hearing from you soon that
you was not angry at me for not being at Whitburn as you desired. I
remain, my dear Jamie, your ever affectionate
M.M.
TUESDAY i AUGUST. Mr. John Chalmer, Mr, James Neill from
Ayr, and Grange dined with us. At five I drank tea along with
Maclaurin at Mr. John Swinton's, at a consultation. I really, for the
most part, like the business of the law. There is a kind of entertain-
ment in observing the progression of causes, and a great variety of
ideas are made to work,
WEDNESDAY 2 AUGUST. Dempster was in town in his way to
London. I had written him a letter while he was sick, which I said just
came on its tiptoes to inquire how he was. I went now and found him
at Peter Ramsay's, and observing him thin, "Dempster," said I, "your
belly has been imitating the India stock of late falling"; a very
proper similitude for a director of the East India Company. I told him
I was fixed to M. He said he was much pleased; that his only surprise
8 Betty Boswell?
246 Edinburgh, 2 August 1769
was how I could do so rational a thing. He said it was just as if either
he or I could be transformed into a female, and the one marry the
other. He was quite against my outrage, supposing my father to
marry again. He said I had a title to remonstrate, and try to prevent
it; but if my father insisted for it, it was my duty to submit. He said
it was not an insult to the memory of a first wife to marry a second.
"I suppose^" said I, "you will say it is no more so than it is an insult
upon boiled beef to eat afterwards of roast mutton." "Just so," said
he, "when the first course is gone, why not take a second?" This lively
argument would have some truth if a wife were looked upon with as
little sentiment as a dish at one's table.
Dempster said that all schemes of flying one's country were bad,
because the moment there is a variation in the sentiments of a person
who does so he is miserable, because it is very difficult for him to re-
turn. Said I, "Would it not be noble for me to get among the wild
Indians in America?" "What," said he, "would you give up for ever
with me, with Miss Montgomerie?" I was sorry to part with him. I
dined at Lord Monboddo's with the Duke of Queensberry and Doug-
las, and we were so well and cheerful that it was agreed we should all
meet again at supper too. I was in admirable spirits, with perfect
sobriety.
THURSDAY 3 AUGUST. I do not recollect this day.
FRIDAY 4 AUGUST, My father came into my room this morning
and told me that although he thought my scheme of marriage im-
proper and that Margaret and I would part in half a year, yet as I
insisted for it he would agree. I was really very grateful to him, and
hoped to be able to behave to his satisfaction.
SATURDAY 5 AUGUST. I had agreed to go to Lainshaw to see
Margaret. I accordingly set out this morning in the fly. There was a
very good company, and I was calm and just as I could wish. I was
taking a glass of madeira at Graham's when Sir James Steuart sent to
me that he was in the house and would be glad to see rne. I went to
him. I told him I had a companion whom I would wish to introduce.
"Oh," said he, "bring him in by all means," "There he is," said I,
pointing to my bottle of madeira-, which I had made the waiter set
upon the table. Sir James made it very welcome, and he and I were
very social. He argued for prudent, interested marriages. I told him
Glasgow, 5 August 1769 247
of mine. He opposed my scheme, "For," said he, "whenever you have
enjoyed a woman you are in love with, love goes off." "No fear," said
I, "my mistress and I are old friends; and surely our friendship will
not be lessened because we enjoy happiness together? Do you think
two friends will become less so by drinking a bottle of champagne
together? I grant you that if the champagne is the only connection
that brings two people together, their love will not last; but my situa-
tion is quite different." I really thought I had the better of Sir James
when I argued for love. I received here a kind letter from Margaret.
I was in the best frame imaginable.
I took a post-chaise and set out for Lainshaw. It pleased me to
drive through Glasgow, and recall a variety of ideas, I got to Lain-
shaw before ten. The poor Captain was very ill. When I saw my val-
uable Margaret, I was in more agitation than I could have believed.
Mrs. Cuninghame and I had a serious conversation, and all was now
certainly fixed. It is impossible to write down all that M. and I said.
[Received 5 August, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
[Lainshaw] Friday [4 August 1769]
IT MADE ME VERY UNEASY to be obliged to apologize for not coming
to Glasgow, but I found it impossible for me to do otherwise, as the
Captain continues so distressed, and Sandy is also very ill of a sore
throat. 9
I did not receive your letter till late last night; otherwise I would
have told you how kind I thought you for remembering me so often.
You may believe it hurts me to be obliged to act so ungratefully and
inconsistently to one I am bound by the strongest ties to behave [to]
in a different manner. But the opinion of those we live with must be
attended to if we wish to have any satisfaction in life. You know I
have often told you I am a coward, and in some measure a slave to
public report. I never but in one instance got entirely the better of
these two, and then I thought the affair of too great importance to
me to be withheld by either.
I shall send this under cover to Mr. Graham's, lest my letter
9 Alexander Cuninghame, one of the Captain's younger sons. He was at this
time probably in his early teens.
248 Glasgow, 5 August 1 769
should not reach you in time to inform you of the impossibility of my
meeting you as you desired, and to beg you will come to Lainshaw if
you can. I am not at all the housekeeper; I keep close in my own room
except when called to the dining-room or to take a walk, and am
never out of bed after eleven; so you see I follow all your prescrip-
tions, and, what's more, I obey your commands in not writing to any
disagreeable person.
I really wish above all things to see you, and, believe me, I am al-
most convinced you'll be here. If you do not come, figure what will be
my disappointment. News I have none to entertain you with. I am
accustomed to very little variety, and, I may say, with no conversa-
tion at all. The whole amusement I have is in reading my friend's
letters and sometimes a paper of The Spectator or some serious book.
As to my French, I have applied but little of late. A mind taken up
with more important concerns is capable of making small progress
in any piece of learning. But as you desire me to give attention to it,
you may believe that is sufficient.
I will be much obliged to you for the picture. I often regret the
one I have has no resemblance; the only thing makes it valuable is
knowing who it was designed for, and remembering out of whose
hands I received it. I shall walk at least a mile or two to meet you on
Saturday evening; if you don't come, I shall go home not in good
spirits.
You did not tell me if your father proposes coming this way. I
should like to know, that I may be out of the way.
The Captain is still very feverish; he got no sleep last night, which
has fretted him and makes him more uneasy today. I must now bid
you farewell, with wishing every happy thing to attend you, and as-
suring you I am, with sincerity, my dear Jamie's ever affectionate
and faithful friend,
M. MONTGOMERIE.
You are not angry at me for calling you by your name? Tell me
and I will not do it again. 1
SUNDAY 6 AUGUST. We did not go to church, but stayed quietly
at home. I felt myself serene and happy, and I had infinite satisfaction
1 Boswell intensely disliked being called "Jamie." He apparently made no protest
at this time, but after marriage his wife seems to have addressed him invariably
as "Mr. Boswell."
Lainshaw, 6 August 1769 249
in seeing my dear M. as happy as I was. As I was to set out next morn-
ing at three to be in time for the fly I did not go to bed, but kept Mr.
Grahames and Dr. Dean with me over a bowl of punch. M. went to
bed early, as she was to go with me. During the night I became anx-
ious and frightened that still I should not have her.
MONDAY 7 AUGUST. When she came down in the morning, I
told her my uneasiness and insisted that we should take each other's
hands and solemnly engage ourselves. We did so, and I was easy. We
had an agreeable drive to Glasgow, where we breakfasted. I was hap-
pier than I can describe. It was curious to look back, and then to con-
sider my present situation. It vexed me that I could not immediately
marry. But I pleased myself that the scheme's being known for some
time before would be more creditable, as it would show it to be no
sudden flight. Captain Wood was in the fly with me, and some more
good company. We were exceedingly merry. We took a mutton chop
at Whitburn, and I pushed about madeira till four of us drank five
bottles. I was hurt to find myself so inclined to intemperance. When
I got to town, I went to the opera of Artaxerxes. Archie Stewart, my
old Rotterdam friend, and Captain Erskine sat with me in a dark cor-
ner. I told them I was now fixed, and they rejoiced at my happiness,
though they could not help hinting that they had apprehensions of
my inconstancy. I was not afraid. My father was pretty kind when I
came home.
TUESDAY 8 AUGUST. Sir Thomas Wentworth, Lady Macdon-
ald's uncle, was now here in his way to Skye. I went and called for
him, but he was abroad. In a little he came to me, and we were at once
quite easy. My father and Balmuto and I dined along with him and
the two Mr. Riddels and William Macdonald at Mr. Campbell of
Ashnish's. I drank freely and then I went to Fortune's, where Mr.
Moncrieffe's guests were entertaining him, and there I became out-
rageously jovial and intoxicated myself terribly, and was absurd and
played at brag and was quarrelsome. How unhappy is this!
WEDNESDAY 9 AUGUST. I was quite gloomy and dejected. I
wrote a long letter to Margaret. That valuable woman will make me
the man I wish to be. The company who dined together yesterday,
with the addition of Lord Hailes, dined at my father's. William Mac-
donald and I supped at Mr. Surgeon Macdonald's and drank bottles
apiece of the finest old claret that I ever tasted. I consulted Dr. Gregory
250 Edinburgh, 9 August 1 769
this afternoon. He thought me in no bad way and was of opinion I
might be cured very well here, but as it would make my mind easy
advised me to go to London and drink some of Kennedy's decoction.
THURSDAY io AUGUST. Mr. Riddel gave a dinner at Leith to
Sir Thomas Wentworth and a number of others, amongst whom I was
one. My spirits sparkled in an extraordinary degree. Lord Kellie was
in high glee, 2 "Upon my soul," said he, "we are merry. We have said
a devilish number of good things." "Why," said I, "my Lord, it is
very natural for puns and rebuses, &c.^ to keep company with Rid-
dels." My Lord abused his tailor for having given him a brown coat
that made him look like a dean of guild. Said I, "It is very proper for
you, my Lord, now that you are becoming a grave man: Quid verum
atque decens^ euro et rog*o." 3 "Curo et rogo" said he; "I wish you
would cure the roguery of the tailor." The Earl played his battery
against me, and gave me many hard hits which I need not repeat.
When he was in great triumph, I said, "My Lord, I can say nothing
to you myself, but I'll tell you what Dictionary Johnson would say:
'Why, Sir, Kellie is a turf that burns for other people while he con-
sumes himself.' " The whole company roared, and my Lord was
foundered for some time. But he soon got up again and went on with
immense spirit. I drank immensely and was so joyous that I was
clearly of opinion that intoxication is a noble thing. Such is the effect
of wine. And perhaps a good quantity of it may at times do well for
many people. But I, who have so much extravagance and vice to sub-
due, must observe the strictest sobriety. Sir Thomas and William
Macdonald and I walked up, and I was fit for business and wrote a
law paper. I must mention that during all our excess of merriment, I
was continually wafting my fervent vows to M., and rejoicing that I
was at last so happily fixed.
FRIDAY 11 AUGUST, Lord Galloway carried Sir Thomas Went-
worth and me in his coach out to St. Catherine's, Lord Gardenstone's
country place. 4 By the way we were very pleasant. My Lord told us a
2 Thomas Alexander Erskine, sixth Earl of Kellie, was a noted musician, humor-
ist, and drinker.
3 "What is right and seemly is my study and pursuit" (Horace, Epistles, Li. 11).
4 Francis Garden, a judge in the Court of Session with the style of Lord Garden-
stone, was another able, literary, and eccentric judge. His eccentricity showed
St. Catherine's, 1 1 August 1769 251
repartee of Lord Hyndford's to the King of Prussia, who never had a
child. He was laughing at the Emperor, and said, "// est bon a rien
que pour bercer des enfants" Replied Lord Hyndford, "Et pour en
faire. " 5 My Lord did not relish much a joke of mine on the Hamilton
tutors, who had about this time very serious meetings. "My Lord,"
said I, "you have had long sederunts 6 a long parliament; and I
believe a good many bills have been brought in." Mr. Lockhart and
Mr. and Mrs. Macqueen were with us at dinner. I drank too much bur-
gundy. I came to town in Mrs. Macqueen's chaise, with her and Sir
Thomas. I supped at Charles Small's with Captain Erskine. I was in
liquor, but good company. We drank bottles of claret apiece. Erskine
would not let me call for any more.
[Received ? 1 1 August, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
[Lainshaw] Thursday [10 August 1769]
WITH THE UTMOST IMPATIENCE I wait the arrival of the post in
hopes he will bring me a letter from my dear friend. What an anx-
ious, uneasy time have I spent since I received your last letter! I am
fearful you are not well your fatigue, hard drinking, and going to
the opera all join to make me unhappy. I imagine you perhaps met
some companion there who prevailed on you to sup abroad, and by
that means finished the irregularities of the day. Oh, what would I
give to be certain this was not the case, and to hear you had not
suffered in the least by your journey! I can write no more till I see
what accounts the post brings. I am just going to set off for Stewarton,
so adieu for a little and God bless you, my best friend.
itself in a fondness for pigs, a visitor even having stumbled over one which slept
in his bedroom according to report. He also successfully founded a large village.
5 "He is only good for rocking children" . , . "And to beget them." John
Carmichael, third Earl of Hyndford, acted as envoy extraordinary and pleni-
potentiary to mediate between Frederick II and Maria Theresa on Frederick's
invasion of Silesia in 1741. He is the subject of one of Carlyle's best portraits
(History of Friedrich II, Book xiii, Ch. 2). The "Emperor" alluded to was
presumably Maria Theresa's husband, Francis of Lorraine, though he did not
become Emperor until 1745.
6 Sessions.
252 Edinburgh, 11 August 1769
I am now returned and beg you will accept of my sincere, my
grateful thanks for your kind letter. I have read your friend's epistle
and admire him much, setting aside the partiality his goodness to me
must naturally inspire me with/ His sentiments are beautiful, and
his having so much vivacity is a convincing proof there is perfect
peace within. I shall be happy to get acquainted with him, and hope
our good opinion of each other will rather increase than diminish.
How glad I am to see him of the same opinion I was with regard to
your father. 8 I hope you and he shall always live in the strictest
friendship, for such a companion, whose goodness you have experi-
enced, is certainly valuable, and his advice will always be an un-
speakable advantage.
I am happy to think your father treats you with so much kindness.
It shall be my constant endeavour to behave so to him as that he shall
have no cause to regret your choice. I am sensible of my faults, and
very desirous to amend them. He shall ever find me dutiful to him,
and extremely ready to follow his directions, as far as lies in my
power.
I am sorry you met with Sir Thomas Wentworth, since it led you
into a riot. It is on account of your health I am most uneasy, as I am
not afraid but you will be very sober when you reflect that being
otherwise will make a person unhappy who would sacrifice a great
deal for your satisfaction.
As to your going to London, I cannot, will not, object if it's your
interest to be there, but how will your father relish such an expedi-
tion? I'm afraid he will be greatly offended. In that case, I should be
extremely uneasy. If your health is not in question, you could see Mr.
7 Boswell's letter has not been recovered. He enclosed a letter from Temple (28
July) in which the latter says: "If you can obtain your father's approbation, you
cannot be too soon united to so respectable, so amiable a woman. You have been
tossed too long on the ocean of irregular desire, without compass, without real
attachment, without real enjoyment. ... I really now long to see you the
married man. What a different turn will it give to your letters! No more venereal
disasters, no more intrigues, no more Zelide, no more gardener's daughters.
The volatile, the witty, the amorous Boswell will then write like any other
grave, sensible man."
8 Temple had argued that Lord Auchinleck had a right to remarry, to comfort
his "cheerless solitude,"
Edinburgh, 11 August 1769 253
Johnson some other time, but you are surely the best judge yourself.
I pretend not to dictate; I only wish you to act so as not to disoblige
my uncle when he is so very good to you.
You are quite right as to my anxiety. I suffer as much from that as
you can possibly imagine. I must surely see you before you set out for
London. If you are determined to go, I'll endeavour to be in Edin-
burgh before you leave it. There's a great odds betwixt the distance of
the two places to me; in the one I can see you in a day, but I would
have no sort of excuse for setting out to London without the ceremony
had been put over. I really think it should; it would have been much
more satisfactory to me to think I had it in my power to see you with-
out giving real cause for censure; and, when once people are deter-
mined, the sooner they put it over the better. I must have many prom-
ises of sobriety before I give my consent to your going to London.
The Captain, poor man, is extremely distressed; he seems to think
himself, as he really is, in a dangerous way. Did you tell Archie
Stewart, or was it his own supposition? I must surely write Lady
Maxwell, as I was her confidante when she engaged herself, and I
think I ought to act in the same manner by her, but I shall not do it
till I hear from you. You are very good to allow me to correspond with
Mrs. S. 9 1 shall never abuse the confidence you put in me. I shall think
it my duty to give up any acquaintance that is disagreeable to you,
but I would willingly do it by degrees. I must once more entreat you
will be sober. Consider, my dear Jamie, that my happiness is entirely
in your power, and I'm sure your generosity will make you deny
yourself an indulgence that may be hurtful to you as well as your
friend. Lord Eglinton sent his compliments to me by Mr. Grahames
today, and bid him tell me he heard for certain I was to be married to
Mr. Boswell. How in the world does everybody know so well? It must
surely be from you, for I declare it is not from me they know anything
of the matter. I fancy you will have received my letter I wrote on
Tuesday. I mentioned your keeping Thomas. It's on T. Brace's 1 ac-
count I wish him continued, and, if you live with your father, he may
do well enough; but I am doubtful he is not a servant where there is
nobody to depend on but himself. I fancy you will have some conver-
9 Mrs. Stuart? See p. 211 n.j.
1 So in the typescript, but probably it should read "J. Bruce's."
254 Edinburgh, 1 1 August 1 769
sation with Lord Auchinleck before you part. Let me know what
humour he is in with me.
I am obliged to make my letter shorter than I intended, as I was
called down to entertain some of our neighbours while my sister was
with the Captain. They are now gone, but I'm afraid I shall be too late
for the post, and I should be sorry to lose the earliest opportunity of
assuring you with what sincere gratitude and affection I ever shall be
your faithful and affectionate
M.M.
SATURDAY 12 AUGUST. The session rose today. Lord Mon-
boddo took leave of me, hoping to meet me next as a married man.
My father was to have set out for Auchinleck today. But some busi-
ness detained him. John went, and my father and I were easy and
well. After dinner he talked of Margaret and me. Said we had both
very good sense, but were thoughtless, and must become just different
beings. I told him I was under a necessity to go to London for a little
to clear my constitution. He acquiesced. The evening passed well.
SUNDAY 13 AUGUST. My illness was visibly decreasing, so I
resolved to stay in and take care of it for a week or a fortnight, and be
pretty well before I set out for London. My father and I had a warm
dispute at night on male and female succession. I argued that a male
alone could support a family, could represent his forefathers. That
females, in a feudal light, were only vehicles for carrying down men
to posterity, and that a man might as well entail his estate on his post-
chaise, and put one into it who should bear his name, as entail it upon
his daughter and make her husband take his name. I told him that the
principle of family, of supporting the race of Thomas Boswell of
Auchinleck, was what supported my mind, and that, were it not for
that, I would not submit to the burthen of life here, but would go and
pass my days in a warm climate, easy and gay. I bid him consider
that he held the estate of Auchinleck, at least the old stamen of it, in
prejudice of no less than four females. That excluding females might
at a time hurt a fond father who had daughters and no sons. "But
what," said I, "is a sorry individual to the preservation of a family?
Is there any comparison? Besides, in that view, why will you make
the son whom you see miserable on account of some woman who may
appear nobody knows when?" I saw he was quite positive in the
Edinburgh) 13 August 1769 255
strange, delusive notion of heirs whatsoever, and I had the mortifi-
cation to be sensible that my dissipated and profligate conduct had
made him at all think of an entail, and made any arguments from me
of little force. I, however, hoped to get him prevented from ruining
his family. I was quite in a fever, for I declare that the family of
Auchinleck is my only constant object in this world. I should say, has
been so. For my dearest M. is now as firmly established. I determined
to leave the country if he made the settlement which shocked me. I
told him so, and I knew M. would not complain. Indeed I was too hot
for a son to a father. But I could not help it. I was like an old Roman
when his country was at stake.
I fell upon a most curious argument which diverted my own
fancy so much that it was with difficulty I could preserve my gravity
when uttering it. "If," said I, "you believe the Bible, you must allow
male succession. Turn to the first chapter of Matthew: 'Abraham
begat Isaac, Isaac begat Jacob,' &c. If you are not an infidel, if you do
not renounce Christianity, you must be for males." Worthy man! he
had patience with me. I am quite firm in my opinion on this point. It
will not do to say a grandson by a daughter is as near as a grandson by
a son. It leads into a nice disquisition in natural philosophy. I say the
stamen is derived from the man. The woman is only like the ground
where a tree is planted. A grandson by a daughter has no connection
with my original stock. A new race is begun by a father of another
name. It is true a child partakes of the constitution of his mother, gets
some of his mother's blood in his veins. But so does he as to his nurse,
so does he as to the ox whose beef he eats. The most of the particles of
the human frame are changed in a few years' rotation. The stamen
only continues the same. Let females be well portioned. Let them en-
joy liberally what is naturally intended for them: dowries as virgins,
a share of what their husbands have while wives, jointures when
widows. But for goodness' sake, let us not make feudal lords, let us not
make barons of them. As well might we equip them with breeches,
swords, and gold-laced hats.
In every age some instances of folly have occurred to humble the
pride of human nature. Of these, the idea of female succession is one
of the most striking. A foolish fondness for daughters has introduced
it, when fathers thought they could not do enough for them. Like the
256 Edinburgh, 1 3 August i 769
ancient Scottish clergy, who became so very fond of the Virgin Mary
that, not satisfied with Aves and other acknowledgments, they grave-
ly disputed in a synod at St. Andrews whether they should not say
Pater Noster, "Our Father which art in heaven," to her. Spottiswood
relates this as a most monstrous absurdity. To make a woman a feudal
lord is much such another. If it be said that remote heirs male may be
in the lowest ranks, surely remote heirs female may be so too. I love
the late Earl of Cassillis, who, when settling his estate, being told by
his man of business that he had called all the heirs male, "Then,"
said he, "give it to the devil." This was the true spirit and dignity of
the ancient peer. 2
MONDAY 14 AUGUST. The Commissioner and I had a serious
conversation in which he gave me hopes that by patience, calmness,
attention, and good behaviour, I would get all matters made easy
with my father. This cheered me. My father was quite in good hu-
mour again, and took a kind leave of me as he set out for Auchinleck.
1 was now left quiet, and hoped to get away soon to London.
TUESDAY 15 AUGUST. I wrote law papers and stayed close at
home. I should have mentioned that I received some time ago an ad-
mirable letter from Temple, approving much of my marriage with
M. and putting it in the most agreeable light.
Having from this day till Thursday the 24 omitted to mark what
passed every day, it is enough to say that I have been close keeping
the house, that Dr. Cairn ie has attended me now and then, and Mr.
Macdonald constantly. That my distemper has been gradually melt-
ing away. That I have written a great many pages of law papers, and
been employed several hours for several evenings in sorting a large
mass of session papers belonging to my father and selecting such as
are worth binding; and, to show the force of custom, I have been very
fond of this business. I have been visited by Sir George Preston very
frequently, by M. Dupont every Thursday, by worthy Grange often.
One day Mr. David Hume came and sat a while with me. I said that
Dr. Robertson from the first part of his Spanish history had drawn the
2 Here begins the long and wearisome contest between Boswell and his father
over the Auchinleck entail, not ended until 1776, and then by a compromise
satisfactory to neither. By that time, Boswell had two daughters himself, and his
"old Gothic Salic male enthusiasm" had so far abated that he wished them
"called" in the entail after the male heirs of Lord Auchinleck' s own body.
Edinburgh., 1 6 to 24 August i 769: Review 257
riches of Peru, of which the second is to treat. Mr. Balfour of Pilrig
was with me one morning. I thanked him for his Philosophical Es-
says, particularly for the one on liberty and necessity. "You have
smoothed it finely, Sir," said I. "You have put a good swaird 3 upon it."
M. Dupont and Surgeon Macdonald drank tea with me today.
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie]
Edinburgh, 2 1 August 1 769
I HOPE MY LETTER OF SATURDAY has prevented you from being un-
easy till this arrives. Be assured that it shall ever be my constant study
to ward off pain from my dearest friend, and to make her as happy as
I can. You have been kind enough to accept of me with all my faults.
I am sure I have told you everything bad about myself: my melan-
choly, my jealousy, every unhappy feeling to which I am subject.
You are prepared to bear with them all, or to prevent them by your
kindness. You may just keep in mind that a disposition to melancholy
and the most violent passion for the family of Auchinleck make a part
of my very existence. So you are not to wonder at their effects. I in-
deed hope that neither the one nor the other shall trouble you much.
If I am at times unhappy^ I trust I shall not make you so. To see my
dearest Peggie well is enough to comfort me. But enough of this at
present, when I am as contented and cheerful as you could wish me to
be. I am recovering my health very fast, and pleasing myself with the
most agreeable prospect of our mutual happiness.
I do not wonder at your panic and reluctance to go to Auchinleck.
Nobody but such as know my father's way perfectly can imagine how
hard it must be upon you. For the truth is that his manner of keeping
people in awe, joined with his peculiar talent of putting what he
pleases in a contemptible light, is galling beyond expression to a feel-
ing mind. The best remedy which I have found against the effects of
this has been to prepare myself calmly for it, as for a piece of carica-
tura, which I am certain is unjust but which may entertain me. A
great part of the happiness of lovers and friends consists in the high
opinion which they entertain of each other. In what particular way
you think of me, I cannot know; but am convinced that you have a
3 An obsolete form of "sward," surface.
258 Edinburgh, 21 August 1769
value for me, as I have for you, as much as ever man had for woman,
and for which I have often given you the best reasons. Now how terri-
ble must it be for any one of us to have the other represented as a very
inconsiderable being. However, allowance must be made. No other
person can think equally high of us as we do of each other, and my
father less so perhaps than anybody else. Let us bear it patiently, and
hope to make him by degrees think better of us.
I approve of your not being in too great a hurry to go to Auchin-
leck. I have written to my father telling him that, as I now look upon
you as my wife, it will be very obliging to me if he will send his chaise
for you, or at least write to you, and behave to you with kindness as
his daughter-in-law. My letter will be with him this afternoon. You
may wait a day or two, and see what effect it produces. As this is our
sacrament week at Auchinleck, he may put off sending for you till
next week. But if you do not hear from him by Friday, I would have
you send your letter to him. You will observe that I have shortened it
considerably and have struck out the paragraph justifying yourself as
to our marriage. I think you have no need of a justification. Are not
you my equal? Are not you his own niece? Keep in mind your own
value, my dearest. Keep in mind that you are my spouse, the woman
whom I have preferred to all others for her real merit. Will you for-
give me for rejoicing in my reformation? and let me add the woman
whom I have preferred to the temptations of fortune? for so you know
to be true. On my account, as well as your own, I will not suffer you to
write to my father as if you were a milliner or a tenant's daughter
whom his son had married in a foolish fit of love. Remember you are
my lady. I have also thought it best to keep out the paragraph as to
some of your relations having contributed to prejudice him against
you. Let all these things be forgotten. My life for it, we shall hear no
more of them now. I have taken the same liberty with the expression,
"If you admit me into your family," because I wish if possible that he
should invite us rather than that we should propose it. With the alter-
ations I have made, I am of opinion your letter will be of service to
prepare him for receiving you.
I do really believe that the reason of his asking you to come to him
is to talk with you calmly, and judge how far it will be proper for him
to have us to live in family with him. Do not suspect him of attempt-
Edinburgh, 21 August 1769 259
ing to make you give up your marriage with me. Let us not, amidst
many unhappy differences, forget his real worth. It was from him
that I derived that strict regard to truth and to honour which I have
ever preserved. He has already plainly given his consent to the match.
He has said so to myself; and he knows that I went to Lainshaw the
day after, and that I am positively engaged to you. No, no, my dearest
life, you wrong him when you carry your apprehensions so far. All
you have to fear is a kind of chilling and dispiriting method in which
he may talk to you.
I should not imagine he will, like the Doctor, 4 be inquisitive as to
when I made my proposals, and all the circumstances of our attach-
ment. If it should so happen, you must tell him that, in the very time
of my schemes for heiresses, I used often to make strong professions of
love to you, to tell you that I would marry you rather than any other
woman, were it not that I was resolved to have 10,000 with a wife.
That, at the same time, I bid you not mind me; and that accordingly
you considered all I said to be words of course. That wh^n you was at
Auchinleck last spring, I paid you more than ordinary attention.
That before you was aware, this made some impression on you. That
you concealed your sentiments, as you knew I was upon another
sche'me, and besides imagined that he would not approve of a match
for me by which I got neither money nor any new connections that
could be of use to me. That you wished much to avoid going to Ire-
land, but that I insisted on it, and got your sister and the Captain to
join their influence. That on the journey to Ireland, I became unusu-
ally thoughtful and uneasy, told you that you was the woman on
earth whom I really loved, that I had been in love with you in my
earliest years and twenty times since, that you was my friend whom I
valued, and that I was miserable to think that I was going to marry
another, which was at the same time not honourable, considering my
love for you. That you then began to think me serious, but still re-
solved to keep your mind to yourself, and, though you should be un-
happy, let me do what was most for my interest. That at Donaghadee,
I put myself in such a passion with you at your declining to go to Dub-
lin, that you was so much affected as to let me know the impression I
had made upon your mind, though you at the same time continued
* Dr. Boswell.
260 Edinburgh, 21 August 1769
your resolution to keep both our secrets. That in Dublin I saw every-
thing fair for me; but confessed to you that although I was distracted
between gay views of fortune and real attachment, the latter would
prevent me at that time from making any advances to the Heiress.
That my passion continued in the same way till we returned to
Lainshaw. But you did not allow yourself to reckon on me as yours,
though we corresponded very frequently this summer. That you re-
ceived a letter from me, telling you that my father was going to marry
again, which hurt me so much that I was to leave Scotland for ever,
and that I then owned to you that I durst not see you, because I had
been indulging hopes of getting his consent to marry you, and that to
see you in view of parting for ever would almost turn me mad. That
you was shocked with this letter, wrote to me in the most earnest
terms and used every argument to reconcile rne to my father's
scheme; but in vain. That your affection for me was such that you
wished to let me know that you would go with me. That while you
was in that situation, you received a letter from me, telling you that if
I were not conscious I would share a crown with you if I had it, I
would not make the proposal I was going to make; which was that if
you chose to join the interest of your 1000 to my 100 a year, and
would go with me to some agreeable retirement, I was ready to marry
you directly. That you readily accepted my proposal, trusting to
God's providence which extends over all the earth. That I was most
grateful for this; I informed you that I had hopes of a mediation by
means of Lord Monboddo. That this having accordingly taken place,
and my father having kindly told me that he would give his consent
to our marriage, I came to you at Lainshaw, and then we solemnly
engaged ourselves as we should answer to God.
This, my dear Peggie, is, I think, a just and true abstract of our
story. It does you great honour, and I appear a better man than people
have imagined. Take courage, and tell this slowly to my father, and I
am almost sure it will please him. Take care, at the same time, to let
him know that as you have always been my confidante, and are there-
fore the best judge of me, you can assure him I never was before in the
style in which you now know me to be. Do as I direct you, and there
will be no room for dissimulation. Be rather silent and reserved, and
let him take the lead. What a comfort would it be if you and I could
Edinburgh, 2 1 A ugust 1769 261
make him happy, and prevent his doing a very improper thing which
would lessen his character and estrange him from me. The Commis-
sioner was with me this forenoon. He again repeated what I formerly
wrote to you, and said he was persuaded that if you and I humour my
father, and behave properly, he never will marry again. So let us be
much in earnest. I give you full liberty to come under all engage-
ments for me as to sobriety, application, and every part of my behav-
iour. Be not hurt by what my father may throw out either against you
or me. Just let it blow over and by your gravity and cheerful compo-
sure of manners conciliate his affection. I cannot help indulging hopes
that before two years are over he may be perfectly satisfied with us,
and that we may be living together in the greatest harmony. Assure
him of my sincere wishes for this. How comfortable, how respectable
would it be for all of us!
Nothing more occurs to me as necessary to be remembered. Your
own admirable sense can be at no loss. I am clear for your taking Mrs.
Campbell with you, though she should stay but a single night. The
meeting with my father must be awkward. All meetings between
people who have anything of importance upon their minds are awk-
ward. When I was last at Lainshaw, I was quite uneasy and in the
strangest palpitation when you came into the room; and, do you
know, for all the anxious wishes that I have for our meeting again,
I think of the very moment in the same manner. There is no help for
such sensibility. It carries its superior joys along with its pains. What
would I give to have you just sitting by me at present!
You was right to own so far to Lady Crawford. I wonder how Lord
Eglinton said that he had it from myself. It is true I have told him
that I loved you better than any other woman. But I have never told
him that we were to be married. Shall I write him a pleasant letter, as
my old governor in the gay world, and tell him that I am at last
happily fixed? I think you may allow me. I shall keep within proper
bounds. For your entertainment, I enclose you the copy of a letter
to M. van Sommelsdyck, our grand Dutch relation and my very good
friend. You will see how I make you appear abroad. 5 M. Dupont could
a Boswell, in his letter (18 August), described Miss Montgomerie as follows:
"She is not what is called a beauty, but she is well built, has a very agreeable
countenance, and, without boasting of being a bel esprit, has a great deal of good
262 Edinburgh, 21 August 1769
not find one fault in the French of it. I beg you may return it to me,
with a translation. It will please me to see how well you understand it.
I wish you would allow me to let Aunt Boyd know what is fixed.
I am to write to her and worthy Mr. Hugh this week. I have only one
frank for her^ which I shall send to you along with my letter. I wish
to keep a good understanding with our Irish friends, and, if I have
your permission, I will write from London to Dublin Mrs. Boyd, in-
form her politely of my situation, and return her the paper*
Mr. David Hume was with me this morning, and gave a philo-
sophical opinion that our marriage must be a happy one. Were it not
for his infidel writings, everybody would love him. He is a plain,
obliging, kind-hearted man. By the by, as a tax for the privilege of
keeping Mr. Temple's letter, I must put you to the trouble of send-
ing me a copy of that part of it where he desires me to put some
questions to Mr. Hume on the study of history. You must know my
friend Temple is a man of much reading, especially since he was
married. He says to me in a late letter, "You will be surprised and
vexed to find how much knowledge I have acquired." 7 This is a
delicate reproof to me for my idleness and dissipation.
I wish Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame would not interfere at
all. My father is not to be managed. He must have his own way. 8 I
hope we shall recommend ourselves to him.
I have now fixed Monday next for setting out on my London
journey. You may depend on my writing to you very often. All
letters to me must be sent under cover "To George Dempster, Esq.,
M.P., London," and they will come safe. I arn quite satisfied with the
way in which you account for your having been so much abroad
when here. My kind compliments to all at Lainshaw. Adieu, my
dearest.
J.B.
sense and the most engaging vivacity. . . . Besides having the most affectionate
heart, my cousin has also the best principles of religion."
6 An obscure item, variously described as a paper, letter, and picture, which had
caused hard feelings between Boswell and the Dublin Boyds.
7 Boswell somewhat alters a sentence in Temple's letter of i July.
8 But on 17 July Boswell had written to Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame asking
her to interpose in the tangled affairs of the family.
Edinburgh, 25 August 1769 263
FRIDAY 25 AUGUST. The day passed on with a variety of busi-
ness. Dr. Boswell was a while with me. I told him he and I had
frequent flows of high spirits: we had bottles of champagne in our
heads which were every now and then poured out. It will do better in
French: "Nous avons des bouteilles du vin de champagne a la tete qui
se versent de temps a autre," or "de temps en temps." M. Dupont says
of me, "Vous etes ne pour le francais." I must make my dear Margaret
a good French scholar.
SATURDAY 26 AUGUST. I took a chaise and carried George
Webster with me to dine at the Commissioner's. We were very com-
fortable. I relished much being again in life after a fortnight's confine-
ment and starving. The Commissioner gave me some more good ad-
vice. George and I went and saw a singular curiosity, a playhouse
in Musselburgh. Fisher's strolling company were there; the play was
The Provoked Husband. We just saw the beginning of it. We supped
at Sir George Preston's.
SUNDAY 27 AUGUST. I was at home^ calm and comfortable,
having fixed next day for setting out. Horatius Cannan and young
Mr. Hair, his governor, and Dr. Cairnie drank tea with me. Captain
James Webster was arrived. I went and sat a while with him, his
sister, and George. He was in prodigious spirits. He pleased me highly.
George was merry. He was impatient for his Sunday's supper, for his
sheep-head broth. He cried, "Bring in the sheep-head, bring in Scipio
Africanus." 9 Such ludicrous nonsense as this will entertain one sur-
prisingly. Miss Webster said of my marriage, "It's in every drawing-
room in town." "Ay," said George, "but it is not in a bedroom yet."
A real bon mot^ upon honour by an Edinburgh cloth merchant. I
supped at worthy Dr. Boswell's. Talking of Johnson, he said he was
a Herculean genius, just born 1 to grapple with whole libraries. The
Hon. James Cochrane was there. My marriage was talked of, and I
was quite easy and cheerful. 2
9 Give it the Italian pronunciation. "Scott used to take off [William Coulter,
Lord Provost of Edinburgh in 1810] as saying at some public meeting, "Gentle-
men, though doomed to the trade of a stocking weaver, I was born with the soul
of a SheepioP " (Lockhart, Life of Scott, Ck xix).
1 The manuscript has the alternative, "made."
2 The Journal, which has been on loose sheets, now shifts to a quarto notebook
which Boswell provided with an elaborate title-page that promises more than it
264 Edinburgh, 28 August 1769
MONDAY 28 AUGUST. Asl had full time to prepare for setting
out on this jaunt, I thought for once to have everything quite ready
a day before. But I find leaving a place where one has been for some
time is like dying and so leaving the world, in this respect: that some-
thing is always forgotten. Last night I recollected owing a number of
letters. So in order to get them dispatched, I was obliged to sit up till
five this morning. I was called before seven, so was a little feverish
and uneasy. However, my constitution is now so much changed for
the better that this did not disconcert me, and I rose in good spirits.
My worthy friend Grange came to me, and we had some kind, cordial
conversation. Mr. Surgeon Macdonald and he breakfasted with me,
and then came Mr. Farquhar Kinloch, merchant in London, my
companion for the journey, with his brother and Mr. John Chalmer,
his brother-in-law, who saw us to our chaise.
It was a fine day. My companion was a man between forty and
fifty, dressed in black, with buckskin breeches and boots and a queue-
wig. He had been many years a merchant in London, and was ac-
quainted with various branches of trade. I made our conversation
turn upon it, and learned a good deal from him as to some mercantile
causes in which I am concerned. I have heard my father say that the
old Earl of Aberdeen was continually asking questions at everybody
he met, by which means he was always picking up knowledge of one
kind or other. This is sometimes a good rule. But if too often applied
I should think it would be ridiculous. A great deal of the knowledge
to be casually picked up from those we meet is hardly worth having.
I would dig for a golden treasure or look for diamonds with as much
attention as any man. But I would not toil to get at a lump of copper,
nor hang my head anxiously and search every seam in my chamber-
floor in order to find pins. As I was determined to make this a jaunt
of perfect economy, just to take care of my health and have my blood
thoroughly purified, I took nothing with me but a suit of black clothes
in my portmanteau, and an old suit of the same colour which I wore.
I was entertained and pleased to find Mr. Kinloch fond of ancient
families. Though he was but the son of James Farquhar, merchant (as
performs: "Journal of my jaunt to London, the Jubilee at Stratford upon Avon
in memory and honour of Shakespeare, and to visit my old and most intimate
friend, the Reverend Mr. Temple in Devonshire, &c,, &c., &c. Autumn 1769."
Norton, 28 August 1 769 265
we say in Scotland, but truly just hardwareman) at the sign of the
Red Lion, he seemed to love noble blood as if he had been a true lioris
whelp^ as the poets talk. I gave him a history of our family. I was quite
in my element.
We eat an egg at Norton, and drank a dish of tea at Cornhill, and
got at night to Wooler Haugh Head. Mr. Kinloch proved a knowing
man in his profession, spoke very slow but very distinctly, and was
extremely obliging and really careful of me, as he knew I had not
been well.
TUESDAY 29 AUGUST. We set out by five o'clock, three hours
sooner than we did yesterday. When I made the comparison between
leaving home and finally leaving the world, I might have observed
that when one forgets anything in the first case it may be remedied
by writing back. But in the last, that cannot be done. Nothing but a
permission to revisit the world can do. That such permissions have
been granted I firmly believe.
We breakfasted at Morpeth. I went here and paid a visit to Mrs.
Collingwood, a widow, lady of a gentleman in the neighbourhood
and aunt to Mrs. Temple. She has a fine family of daughters. I
was made acquainted with this family by my last companion from
London, Captain Dickson, whose brother is married to one of her
daughters. I was in fine spirits, and charmed to hear English so
prettily spoken. My dearest love was ever present to my mind, and
every happy moment I felt, I wished she was with me to partake of it.
We got to Newcastle to dinner. Here my companion met two
London acquaintances: Mr. Phipps, a young lawyer, a clever con-
veyancer, and a kind of buck in vacation time, as I thought; and Mr.
Sitwell, an old bachelor, a comely old gentleman with a grey coat,
large white wig, fair complexion, and linen remarkably well got up.
He was formerly an ironmonger, but was now worth 200,000, partly
in money, partly in landed estates. We dined all together and were
very hearty. It was curious to observe in old Sitwell the true littleness
of a London cit. 3 There was a bottle of port on the table untouched,
when my companion and I were going away to visit some people.
"Come," said he, "gentlemen, you shall pay no part of this bottle";
and violently did he battle it. A just idea, no doubt. But a very mean
8 Johnson defines cit as tl a pert, low townsman."
266 Newcastle, 29 August 1769
one. I introduced Mr. Kinloch at Dr. Wilson's, where we drank tea,
and then the Doctor and I went and sat a while with Mr. Aitken, the
dissenting clergyman. I wrote from this to my love, and thought a
lively letter might do her spirits good and dissipate too much thought-
fulness in my absence.
We took tickets in the fly here as far as Grantham, when we could
judge whether to travel in that manner any farther. But, in order to
get a sound sleep, we took a post-chaise and went on at night to Dur-
ham. Having seen in the papers that Sir John Pringle was arrived
from Paris, I wrote to him tonight, informed him of my whole
situation., and prepared him for receiving me in London,, so as that I
should not have the awkward task of telling him all about myself.
I was not at all fatigued, and my spirits were admirable.
WEDNESDAY 30 AUGUST. There came up to us this morning
about seven in the fly, Mr. Dodds, a little, fat woollen-draper in New-
castle, a cheerful old gentlewoman, and her daughter Mrs. Topham,
wife to one of Sir Francis DelavaFs tenants. We all breakfasted to-
gether, and then set out. We were exceedingly chatty, and well
entertained with that kind of broken conversation that leaves no trace
behind it. I told them I was to be married so soon as I returned from
London. Being free with absolute strangers is really and truly no
freedom. For when you say, "I am to do so and so," to people who
know nothing about you, it is the same thing as if you said A or B
are to do it, and you are amused with their remarks and sometimes
even helped by their advice. I said my great study at present was to
get a proper posy or motto for my spouse's wedding-ring: "With this
ring I thee wed." Mrs. Topham had none on hers. But her mother had
a very good one: "Love and live happily." I took a memorandum of
it in my pocket-book, and said I questioned if I should find a better. 4
The good gentlewoman treated us with some excellent cake, and
when we came to Darlington we made her and her daughter take a
glass of white wine from us. How pleasant is it to live well with our
fellow creatures, and interchange civilities. Here our ladies left us.
But a younger and genteeler one than either came in, Lord Darling-
4 Margaret Montgomerie's wedding ring is now owned by Mrs. Joyce T. Mc-
Combe, who has kindly described it for us as 'gold, plain, very thin, and for a
very slight finger.' It bears no inscription.
Darlington, 30 August 1769 267
ton's gardener's daughter, the wife of a shopkeeper here. She was
smart and could talk incessantly. Mr. Kinloch and she kept up a close
conversation on all sorts of provisions. We took up here, too, Mr.
Howell, a farmer of this country, very little removed from a brute.
He was not ill natured. But he was monstrously big, had the coarsest
dress and manners, and spoke a language that could hardly be
understood. We dined at Northallerton, where our lady parted from
us, and we got to Wetherby at night.
THURSDAY 31 AUGUST. We set out at f our. I slept very soundly
in the fly. Mr. Dodds told us he was from Scotland, and had a pretty
estate of 40 a year at Melrose, to which he intended to retire. He had
travelled to London and back again very often, and was prodigiously
knowing as to everything upon the road.
We breakfasted at Ferrybridge. The joy of an English breakfast
in a clean, handsome inn, after having travelled a couple of stages,
is great. We took up here another good old woman, a Yorkshire
farmer's wife. I was in a droll humour, and, seeing rich clover fields,
I started a scheme of feeding the human race upon them. I was for
bringing up a young child with a calf, giving it a little milk for so
long, keeping it in a cowhouse at night, and, in the daytime, making
the calf and it feed in a clover field. There is no describing the rage of
the worthy farmer's wife at this doctrine. "You are little better than
an atheist!" said she. "I don't believe you fears either God or man."
I persisted with great composure and gravity to enforce my system,
and I thought my other companions would have died of laughing.
Mr. Dodds was quite overcome. It is, however, really a bad thing to
joke in that manner. How are people to be sure that a man is in
earnest, when they have seen him., with the earnest and serious
appearance of truth, maintaining what is farthest from his mind?
We dined very well at Barnby Moor, and instead of waiting near
an hour, as we did yesterday at Northallerton, we had dinner imme-
diately. The farmer's wife left us at Tuxford, not a little regretted by
Mr, Howell, to whom she very cordially communicated a brandy
bottle which she had in her pocket.
We got into Grantham before eight. I went and called on my
acquaintance, the Reverend Mr. Palmer, chaplain to Sir John Gust,
the Speaker of the House of Commons, a sensible, knowing man who
268 Grantham, 31 August 1769
improves much on acquaintance. He insisted I should sup with him,
and he entertained me in a plain, friendly manner. His lady was in-
disposed; but he introduced to me his children, a daughter and two
sons, saying before his eldest son that he was glad he would have it to
say that he had taken by the hand the friend of the great Paoli. It is
amazing how much and how universally I have made myself ad-
mired. This is an absolute fact. I am certain of it, and with an honest
pride I will rejoice in it. Mr. Heron, another clergyman here, supped
with us. We talked of Johnson, and particularly of his wonderful
knowledge of the world, which I observed was most extraordinary, as
he had lived so much in the retirement of Oxford and the Temple. Mr.
Palmer remarked very justly that to know the world really well one
must not be too much in it. One will see better what is going on., and
be able to trace the springs of action better by standing sometimes at
a side. I pursued the thought. "One," said I, "should not be too early
in the world, otherwise he will never know it fully; that is to say, in a
philosophical sense. If he goes into it early, he becomes so insensibly
accustomed to everything that he never inquires into its causes. Let
him first study human nature in speculation, and form to himself a
habit of examining it as exerted in active lif e., and then every scene he
sees will be an experiment, and he will in time acquire much knowl-
edge of the world. Though perhaps being late of entering upon it may
make one's manners somewhat awkward. But that is but of inferior
consequence." I went to my inn and had a few hours' sleep.
FRIDAY i SEPTEMBER. We set out at three o'clock, breakfasted
at Stilton, dined at Biggleswade, and got to London between eight and
nine. The sights of London again put me in high spirits. I cannot well
account how it has had so strong an effect upon me since I can remem-
ber anything. Both before I saw it and since, my ideas of it have
been very high. Messrs. Howell and Dodds were set down in Gray's
Inn Lane. Mr. Kinloch and I took a hackney-coach in Holborn and
drove to Mr. Dilly's. There was nobody in the house at this time but
the two brothers, who received me with a most lively joy. I introduced
Mr. Kinloch to them, and he stayed and supped with us. I was quite
at home. I liked to see the effects of being an author. Upon the
strength of that, here were two booksellers who thought they could
not do enough for me.
London, i September 1769 269
At eleven I walked down to my revered friend Mr. Samuel John-
son's to see if he was in town. But Miss Williams, the blind old lady
who lives with him, told me he was down at Brighton. I sat some little
time with her, and was rejoiced just to sit in Mr. Johnson's parlour,
and see his inkhorn standing on the table. Miss Williams advised me
to go to the Jubilee in honour of Shakespeare, at Stratford upon Avon. 5
Indeed, when I left Scotland I was resolved not to go. But as I ap-
proached the capital I felt my inclination increase, and when arrived
in London I found myself within the whirlpool of curiosity, which
could not fail to carry me down.
Mr. Dilly insisted that I should live at his house, where I should
be quite at home. I accepted of his kind invitation; and was pleased
to be lodged in the house of my bookseller in the Poultry, in one of the
most frequented streets of the city of London, where coaches pass at
all hours. I was calm and well.
SATURDAY 2 SEPTEMBER. I went immediately and waited on
Sir John Pringle. My principal intention in coming to London now
was to put myself under the care of the famous Dr. Kennedy, to purify
my blood from every remain of vicious poison. Sir John received me
with his usual reserved kindness. He was not for my applying to
Kennedy, but just taking Mr. Forbes, a regular surgeon, as the phrase
is. However, he allowed me to please myself. It is amazing to see a
man of Sir John's character so impregnated with partiality as to re-
fuse its just credit to a medicine which has undoubtedly done wonders.
5 An elaborate publicity stunt of Garrick's, flamboyantly designed and poorly
executed. The first day, Wednesday 6 September, began with an oratorio in the
church. Then the company marched in procession to the amphitheatre erected
for the occasion, where it dined and various songs, such as Sweet Willy O y com-
posed for the Jubilee were sung. A ball was held in the evening. The next morn-
ing Garrick recited his Dedication Ode with a musical accompaniment. During
this performance benches gave way in various parts of the amphitheatre, injur-
ing several people. At night there were fireworks, and the masquerade ball took
place. On the third and final day, despite the continued unfavorable weather,
a horse race (with the horses knee deep in water) for the jubilee cup was held,
but a grand procession in Shakespearian costume had to be cancelled. Those
who had not escaped from Stratford by that evening attended a ball which closed
the Jubilee. Between the weather and inadequate arrangements it was hardly
a full success, and the general vulgarization of Shakespeare which characterized
it was widely satirized in the next few months.
270 London, 2 September 1 769
I tried him formerly as to Keyser's pills, 6 and found him equally
prejudiced. As Sir John has witnessed many of my weaknesses and
follies, and been always like a parent to me, I cannot help standing
much in awe of him. He would insist that I was not yet in earnest to
marry. I told him that I could not show him the inside of my mind as
one does a watch, but that I was certainly conscious that my wheels
now went calmly and constantly. He said, "Vous avez encore un
peu de vertige." I was slightly angry and a good deal diverted, as
I was sure of my being quite a different man from what he had
formerly known me.
I breakfasted at the Smyrna Coffee-house, now removed to St.
James's Street. When it was in Pall Mall, it was one of my first resorts
in London, in the days when Derrick, the late Master of the Cere-
monies at Bath, was a kind of governor to me. 7 I thought its being
removed a striking instance of the instability of human affairs. Such
consequence do objects acquire which have entered our minds early.
They are like people who come to the play when the doors open, and
take up more room in the pit than others who come in late and are
obliged to squeeze themselves into any little space they can find. I
went to Greek Street, Soho, and called on my friend Dempster. We
were rejoiced to meet. He had a letter for me from my dearest Mar-
garet, as all my letters come under his cover. It was a kind, sensible,
admirable one. I showed him her noble and generous letter. 8 He said
it was the finest he had ever seen. "And," said he, "she gets an honest
and honourable man." He and I agreed to dine together and parted.
I went to Lincoln's Inn Fields and called on Dr. Kennedy. I had a
letter for him from my uncle the Doctor, but would not deliver it till
I saw how I liked him. He was a very old gentleman, large and formal
and tedious, but seemingly worthy. 9 After talking over my case with
him, I told him who I was and gave him my uncle's letter. He allowed
6 An extensively advertised nostrum presented to the public with certificates of
"ambassadors, ministers of state, and other noblemen of the first rank" as an
efficacious and mild cure for a "certain disorder, without the least trouble or con-
finement." It also cured "scorbutic eruptions, leprosies, white swellings, stiff
joints, gout, and rheumatic disorders" (Public Advertiser, 4 February 1768).
7 Derrick, who had died in March 1769, introduced Boswell to the sensual
pleasures of London in 1760.
8 Her letter accepting his proposal (see p. 240) .
9 He was supposed to be nearly ninety and was probably seventy-seven. For a
London, 2 September 1 769 271
me to go to Shakespeare's Jubilee before I began my course of his
medicine. I then went to a Mr. Dalemaine, an embroiderer in Bow
Street, Covent Garden; gave him, cut out in paper as well as I could,
the form of a Corsican cap, and ordered Viva la Liberia to be em-
broidered on the front of it in letters of gold.
Dempster and I dined at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the
Strand. He had just come from Orme who wrote the history of
Hindustan. Dempster found him reading Euripides in Greek. He said,
"I know not how it is. But my mind does not relish anything very
easy. I must have something hard to chew, like one who has got the
toothache." His house was pretty. He said, "I have been several years
gradually making this an agreeable habitation for myself, like an
insect making its nest. 5 ' Over one door a drawing of a boy painting.
Over the opposite door, a boy playing on a flute. "There," said he, "is
my notion of poetry: beautiful images and fine sounds." There is a
famous bon mot of his on Lord Clive. When somebody said his Lord-
ship neglected his old friends, Orme answered, "Lord Clive is a man
who rides post through life and changes his horses at every stage."
This may be applied to most ambitious rising men.
Dempster said he was happy I had escaped being made the matri-
monial prey of a certain junto. 1 "That is true," said I. "It would have
been putting an ortolan on the same spit with a parcel of dunghill
fowls, while one turnspit dog served to roast them all." "Yes," said he,
"it would have been putting a goldfish into the same basket with
skate." We both talked how much bans mots were relished by every-
body. Plutarch has collected a number of ancient ones, and Menage,
of modern ones. Dempster said a man who publishes such a collection
will be more a favourite of the public than one who publishes some
able work of his own. When Dempster lived at Kensington, he one
day asked his sister if currants and raisins could be bought there. "O
yes," said she, "as currently and reasonably as in London." 2
We went and took a survey of Blackfriars Bridge, and were agree-
quack he had good credentials, being M.D. of Rheims and Oxford, and Fellow
of the Royal Society.
1 Probably a reference to the proposed match with Mary Ann Boyd, but possibly
a reference to Miss Blair and her connections. See p. 126.
2 Walker's Pronouncing Dictionary (1791) defends the pronunciation "reezon"
for "raisin."
272 London, 2 September 1769
ably struck with its grandeur and beauty. We walked upon it first,
and then took a boat and sailed a little up and down the Thames to see
it perfectly. We then drank tea at the Somerset Coffee-house. I asked
Dempster if I should go to the Stratford Jubilee. He said that belonged
to the chapter of whims, as to which no advice should ever be given.
He made me happy by saying that my dearest Margaret might be
quite sure of me, for that the idea of my drawing back from my
solemn engagement was just the same as the idea that Blackfriars
Bridge should walk from its foundation.
We argued on newspaper fame. He was against it, because he
thought that he who is pleased with that kind of praise will be hurt
by censure of the same kind. I maintained that it was not so. For I said
that I did not allow anything written against me to make an im-
pression, while I enjoyed fully anything written for me. I did like one
eating cherries. While I get good sweet ones, I hold them in my mouth
and have all their relish. When a bad one comes in my way, I spit it
out without chewing. I declare I have attained to this happy art. This
was really a very agreeable day. I came home quietly, supped gen-
teelly, and was comfortable.
SUNDAY 3 SEPTEMBER. I employed a Scots barber called Gall.
I called him the perfidious Gaul, a term very proper to denote him
when he does not come at the time he promises. I went to St. Paul's,
but was too late. I then went to the Temple Church. The idea of the
Knights Templars lying in the church was solemn and pleasing. The
noble music raised my soul to heaven, though it was not Stanley's day,
who officiates as organist every other Sunday. A Dr. Morell preached
on these words: "For neither circumcision availeth anything nor un-
circumcision, but faith which worketh by love.' 9 -' 5 He argued against
a formal shadow of religion, and against Methodists with simple
faith, and just recommended plain, rational, calm piety. I was much
pleased with him. It was very agreeable to find myself in so good a
frame. I thought much on my dearest Peggie. She and I were very
happy together in Dublin at different places of worship; I wished to
have had her here with me. After this I shall not mention my dearest
in my Journal, unless when something extraordinary occurs. To say
that I love her and wish to have her with me is like saying my pulse
beats and my blood circulates. It is to be always understood.
3 Author of the libretti for several of Handel's oratorios. His text is Galatians 5. 6.
London, 3 September 1 769 273
I dined at Sir John Pringle's. There was nobody with him but Sir
John Mitchell from Shetland, a quiet, genteel man to appearance. He
had been in the army. Sir John kept his authority ut semper. He
talked of Shakespeare as a barbarous writer, and run out in praise of
the French tragedies. He said if he was a savant about town, he would
read Corneille with Voltaire's notes and observations, and was sure
he would make a figure, as dramatic excellence was there reduced to
a system which a man may learn. He spoke of the inconveniency of
the old town of Edinburgh. I told him I would never leave it, for I
preferred our good old house in the Parliament Close to all the
elegance of the new buildings. 4 I made him almost angry by main-
taining this. At last I finished the dispute with a droll application of a
passage in Cicero, where he says that Ulysses preferred his old wife
to immortality. "Ay, ay," said I, "I love my old house. Vetulam suam
praetulit immortalitati^
We went and walked round St. James' Park, taking the Green
Park in our circuit. It was fine to see such crowds of well-dressed
people, without being known to one of them. Sir John Pringle ob-
served that the manners of Edinburgh are very bad. That the people
there have a familiarity, an inquisitiveness, a way of looking through
one, that is extremely disagreeable. He is very right. But how can
a man do who is to live amongst them? He must be exceedingly re-
served, for, if he allows his vivacity to play, the sarcastical rogues will
attack him; and should he, with the politeness well known abroad,
show his displeasure, they would raise a hoarse laugh and never
mind him. So that nothing less than a downright quarrel can make
them understand that they have hurt him. I drank coffee at the
Smyrna, and then came home to supper.
MONDAY 4 SEPTEMBER. I breakfasted with Mr. Dempster. He
had company with him, so nothing material passed. In one of the
streets of Soho I met Mr. Sheridan, whom I had not seen for many
4 Boswell is referring to the northern extension of Edinburgh known as the New
Town, which was begun in 1767.
5 Boswell's Latin is really from Bacon's Advancement of Learning (I. viii. 7) or
the essay, "Of Marriage and Single Life." Cicero (De oratore, i. 196; De legibus,
ii. 3) says Ulysses preferred Ithaca to immortality, and his language is quite dif-
ferent. Boswell had probably read an edition of Bacon's Essays in which the
editor had pointed to the parallel in Cicero.
274 London, 4 September 1769
years. 6 1 lie under many obligations to him, as he took a great concern
about me when I was a very idle, impetuous young fellow, and had
me often in his house in the kindest manner. So I was happy to meet
with him, and promised to come and dine with him without cere-
mony, when I was not engaged. I then called on Mr. Thomas Davies,
bookseller, whom I must always remember as the man who made me
acquainted with Mr. Samuel Johnson. He is a very good kind of man
himself, and has been long my acquaintance. He told me that Mr.
Berenger, the Master of Horse, who it seems is mighty delicate and
polite, said that Mr. Johnson was, in a genteel company, like an ox
in a china-shop. He overturns everything. I dined at home, and after
dinner Mr. Dilly and I walked about searching all over the town for
my necessary accoutrements as a Corsican for the Stratford Jubilee.
Some I had made on purpose. Others I borrowed. 7 But at last I got
everything in order, and everything that I wanted went into such
small bounds that I could carry the whole in my travelling-bag, ex-
cept my musket and staff. I met by chance with a most curious staff
in a shop in Cheapside: a very handsome vine with the root upper-
most, and upon it a bird, very well carved. I paid six shillings for it.
After I had bought it, I told the master of the shop, "Why, Sir, this
vine is worth any money. It is a Jubilee staff. That bird is the bird of
Avon." I supped quietly at home. 8
TUESDAY 5 SEPTEMBER. I set out at seven in the Oxford fly,
having for my companions a tradesman of Oxford, brother to Fletcher
the bookseller in St. Paul's Churchyard, a cook-maid going home to
Lord Harcourt, and the nurse of some nobleman's child, carrying it
in her lap. We were all quiet, obliging, good-humoured people. We
breakfasted at Slough. At Maidenhead the nurse left us. We jogged
along. But I cannot say anything either instructive or entertaining
passed. We dined at Henley, where we were joined as messmate by a
brisk lawyer's clerk. We got to Oxford about six. I put up at the Angel
Inn.
6 Probably not since the spring of 1763.
7 He had brought a native costume back with him, as he says in Corsica, but had
left it in Edinburgh.
8 The Memorandum for this date adds: "M. the guardian angel to heaven in
her arms."
Oxford., 5 September 1 769 275
The grandeur and solemnity of Oxford as a literary retreat always
fills me with agreeable reverence. But it makes my heart sore too, for
it recalls the memory of Sir James Macdonald. I may add, too, the
memory of Frank Stewart. 9 Last time I was at Oxford he supped with
me, along with Mr. Samuel Johnson and Mr. Chambers, the Vinerian
Professor, in the very room where I now sat. My intention was to go
on a stage or two this night towards Stratford, to be ready to get up to
the Jubilee next morning. But finding myself in remarkably good
spirits, I sat down and wrote letters to my dearest love, to Mr. Samuel
Johnson at Brighton, and to my cousin, Mr. Bosville of Yorkshire. I
drank some coffee, and then sent for Mr. Mickle, corrector of the
Clarendon Press, author of The Concubine, a Poem in the Manner of
Spenser, beautifully describing the fatal effects of licentious passion,
as also author of Chateaubriant, a Tragedy, which he sent to me
to read, and which I had recommended to Mr. Garrick. 1 1 found my-
self appearing to great advantage before this poet, who, though of a
superior genius in my opinion as a bard, was awkward in conversa-
tion. It however pleased me to find him a sincere believer in religion.
I had a fine thought in a letter to Miss Montgomerie tonight. "Let
us not," said I, "have much concern about settlements. In contracting
and binding two lovers, the elegant passion is often destroyed; just as
we have seen a bunch of flowers, of roses, jessamine, and honeysuckle,
lose their flavour in being tied together." The thought is pretty, and
is better expressed in my letter, if I could recollect it. It is amazing
how much of sentiment consists in expression. Nothing but hard sci-
ence remains the same when put in different words.
Mr. Mickle supped with me, and a little before twelve I set out
in a post-chaise alone for Stratford, not having been able to find an
idle scholar in all the university to accompany me. They were all
gone already. It was very dark, and I was afraid both of being robbed
and being overturned, so could not sleep. 2
9 Frank Stewart had died at Rheims in October 1768.
1 Garrick rejected it, to Mickle's rage, and it was never produced. It was printed
in 1794, after Mickle's death, under the title, The Siege of Marseilles.
2 Half a leaf of the manuscript has been cut away. When the narrative is resumed
Boswell has digressed to give an account of a visit to u an old dallying compan-
ion," Miss Reynolds, who during one of his earlier sojourns in the metropolis
had impressed him by her generosity.
276 Oxford, 5 September 1769
. . . for, after having given her genteelly for some amorous inter-
views, I pretended that I had spent all my money. "My dear,' 7 said I,
"such is my situation. I gave you when I had money. Now, when I
have none, will you favour me with your company? I can hardly ask
such a {thing, much as) I (wish) to try." She . . , 3
. . . tints of delight, I allowed myself no other liberty than once
drawing my hand gently along her yellow locks. I had my valuable
spouse ever present before me, and not only my reason but my heart
and every feeling were even at that moment sensible of her superi-
ority. I was wholly hers. I told Miss Reynolds with a most engaging
address, "You are not made for this way of life. You have not the
qualifications for it, except-, indeed, being very pretty and very agree-
able. You have not the avarice, the falseness, which is requisite. I
wish to have you out of it." She promised to me that she would go into
the millinery business and behave properly. It was curious to see her
drink. "Sir, I vish" ("wish," according to the true London pronuncia-
tion) "I vish you all happiness in your new state of life." She asked
me to come and see her again. But I was determined to let this be my
last visit.
And now let me return to my journey to Stratford. Before I got
to Woodstock I had, from an over-caution, put my watch in one pocket
of the chaise, my purse in another, and my pocket-book in another. I
thought I had taken them all out again. But when I was three miles
beyond Chapel House, the next stage, I missed my pocket-book, in
which I had several papers, particularly the most valuable letter of
my valuable friend. I was in great uneasiness. First I thought of send-
ing back an express for it. But rny anxiety made me take fresh chaise
and horses and return myself. I thought most fervently of my dearest
all the way, which kept up rny spirits. I imagined I should be obliged
to go all the way to Oxford, as the chaise from that place, in which
was my pocket-book, must be gone back, I was beginning to fret. But
at once I turned my mind to philosophical resolution. I know from
experience how much power we have over our minds.
3 Two and a half pages of the manuscript have been removed.
Oxford, 5 September 1769 277
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie]
Oxford. 5 September 1 769
MY DEAREST LIFE, My last was not half an answer to yours.
You quite overpower me with goodness. What return can I make for
the beautiful sentiments of sincere regard which your last contains?
Indeed, my dear friend, my only uneasiness now proceeds from mel-
ancholy fears, at times, that this happiness is too great to last long in
human life, and an anxiety lest you should really imagine that I am
not sufficiently sensible of what I owe to you. There is the most re-
fined delicacy in your manner of expressing a doubt that my affection
is not so strong as yours, because I can go at such a distance from you
with so much ease. This would strike most people. But be assured, my
dear Peggie, it is not a just conclusion. Consider that it was absolutely
necessary for me to go to London, and a journey which appears long
to you cannot affect in the same manner one who has travelled so
much as I have done. And, since I am upon this subject, believe me,
my going to Shakespeare's Jubilee, and wishing to see many friends
and enjoy many amusements, ought not to be interpreted as marks of
indifference. I am forwarding the recovery of my health; I am ac-
quiring an additional stock of ideas with which to entertain you. I
am dissipating melancholy clouds, and filling my mind with fine,
cheerful spirits.
You are, however, my constant object. What we read in the old
romances is realized in me. Upon honour, my dearest life, I just adore
you. I doubt if the style in which you found me when last at Lainshaw
be altogether natural to me. I hope it shall be so from custom. I am at
present the most sober, amiable, polite man that you can imagine. I
am quite pleased with myself, and see the justness of your being
raised in your own opinion, by thinking that you are the person whom
such a man prefers to all the world besides. I give you my word, your
attachment has that effect upon me. Let us be mutually happy in
thinking how much each contributes to make the other so. You have
no occasion to fear Yorkshire. 4 I am positive absolutely certain
4 Not clear. Elizabeth Diana Bosville had married Sir Alexander Macdonald
more than a year before this. Godfrey Bosville had another daughter, Julia
(later Lady Dudley and Ward), but she was only fifteen at the time, and is no-
where mentioned in the Journal as a matrimonial possibility.
2 78 Oxford, 5 September 1 769
that my constancy to you is invariable. I now believe the doctrine I
have often heard, that we can be in love but once; for I never before
felt what I feel now. I took the liberty to show my friend Dempster
your noble, generous letter accepting of my terms. He said it was the
finest letter he had ever read, and with the greatest warmth he re-
joices at our being to be united. He gives me franks for you, and he
says very pleasantly that, next to seeing my face, you will be happy
to see his hand.
I left London this morning and came in the post-coach to this
venerable seat of learning, on my road to Stratford. The Jubilee be-
gins tomorrow. I have forty miles yet to go. So I take a post-chaise at
every stage, and well wrapped up in a greatcoat I travel all night
asleep; and shall be at Shakespeare's birth-place tomorrow morning
early, and put myself under the tuition of Mr. Garrick, who is stew-
ard of the Jubilee. I believe you and I differ as to shows and grand oc-
casions. This Jubilee, which makes all my veins glow, will make little
impression on you. I shall not therefore insist much upon that topic,
but leave you to the newspapers for information, I have engaged to
Dempster not to describe myself there, and yet I could hold any sum
that other people will; for I assure you my Corsican dress will make
a fine, striking appearance. 5 My gun slung across my shoulder, my
pistol at one side and stiletto at another, with my bonnet or kind of
short grenadier cap, black, with Viva la Liberia (that is, "Long live
liberty," or, as the English say, "Liberty for ever") embroidered upon
its front in letters of gold, will attract much notice. I have that kind
of weakness that, when I looked at myself in the glass last night in
my Corsican dress, I could not help thinking your opinion of yourself
might be still more raised: "She has secured the constant affection
and admiration of so fine a fellow." Do you know, I cannot think
there is any harm in such a kind of weakness or vanity, when a man
is sensible of it and it has no great effect upon him. It enlivens me and
increases my good humour.
Donaldson, who was formerly at Edinburgh, is now an esteemed
miniature painter in London. I was fairly set down to him since I
came up. But difficulties occurred which your ladyship must be
pleased to settle. Do you choose the size to be for a bracelet or for
5 He broke his promise or got Dempster to release Mm from it.
Oxford., 5 September 1769 279
hanging at your watch? What clothes do you choose? Shall my hair
be powdered or not?
I beg to know if I should not get Lady Margaret Macdonald to
choose a marriage gown for you. Might you not have a silver stuff?
You know it must be white. Or do you really prefer a plain white?
Write me as to this. You know you and I are not to be tied down to the
ordinary rules and ceremonies.
I am delighted with the pious strain of your letters. I hope we
shall be truly happy together in devotion. I bless the memory of my
valuable mother, who gave me impressions of religion which I shall
ever retain, and which I flatter myself shall henceforth have a con-
stant influence on my conduct. Between ourselves, the Church of Eng-
land worship is infinitely superior to our Presbyterian method. I at
present have my mind raised to heaven by the grand churches, noble
organs, and solemn service of the churches around me. Our Jubilee
tomorrow begins with an oratorio in the church, which will give me
great satisfaction. I am just now expecting a very ingenious gentle-
man, here, the author of a tragedy which I have recommended to Mr.
Garrick. I never saw the gentleman, but he corresponds with me. I
must entertain him for an hour, and then set out. So, my dear, dear
Peggie, farewell for this night, and may God bless and preserve you
to your ever grateful, affectionate, and constant
JAMES BOSWEIX.
My compliments to all at Lainshaw. What says the Captain to
us? I cannot omit giving you a simile which occurred to me when
travelling in the coach this afternoon. Love such as ours is of a most
delicate nature. In treating and settling and binding, it might be
destroyed, just as you have observed a fine bunch of flowers roses,
jessamine, and honeysuckle lose their flavour by being handled
too much in tying them together.
WEDNESDAY 6 SEPTEMBER. When I arrived at Woodstock, the
landlord had my pocket-book for me. I was comforted and happy, I
took breakfast, it being near six in the morning. But I was now in a
new difficulty. Such crowds had passed that there was no post-chaise
to be had. Here then was I, on the very morning of the Jubilee, in
danger of not getting to it in time. I became very impatient, so hired
a couple of horses and off I set, the postilion carrying part of my bag-
280 Woodstock, 6 September 1769
gage and myself the rest. I had no boots, and only a short greatcoat
which I had borrowed of a postilion, and it rained pretty thick. I was
really distressed, and the fear that my health would suffer made me
worse. However, at the end of six miles, I found a post-chaise into
which I got directly, and partly by threatenings, partly by promises,
prevailed on the post-boys to drive fast, and arrived at Stratford be-
tween twelve and one. The first view of the Avon and of the town
where Shakespeare was born gave me those feelings which men of
enthusiasm have on seeing remarkable places. Cicero had them when
he walked at Athens. 6
I went to Mr. Payton's at the Red Lion, the great inn here. 7 There
was no room, but one of the maids pointed me out an old woman
called Mrs. Harris, who had a house just by, directly opposite to
Shakespeare's house; and she let me have a tolerable old-fashioned
room with a neat, clean bed at a guinea a night, the stated Jubilee
grice for beds.
Having fixed this point, I went immediately to the great church. 8
It was surrounded by a crowd of people; and, as objects anyhow sim-
ilar call up similar circumstances, I could not help thinking of the
Monday's meeting after giving the sacrament in a country church in
Scotland. I was exceedingly dirty; my hair hung wet about my ears;
my black suit and the postilion's grey duffle above it, several inches
too short every way, made a very strange appearance. I could observe
people getting together and whispering about me, for the church was
full of well-dressed people. At last Mr. Garrick observed me. We first
made an attitude to each other and then cordially shook hands. I gave
him a line I had written to let him know I was incognito, as I wished
to appear in the Corsican dress for the first time they should know me.
Many of those who had stared, seeing that I was intimate with the
steward of the Jubilee, came up to him and asked who I was. He
answered, "A clergyman in disguise." To see a noble band of the first
musicians from London with Dr. Arne at their head, Mr. Garrick, a
6 Probably Boswell refers to De finibus, v. i.
7 Rather the White Lion. Payton became notorious for his exorbitant charges
during the Jubilee. It cost those resident in the inn a shilling to use the outhouse,
and those who were not resident eighteen pence.
8 Dr. Arne's oratorio, Judith^ was being given there.
David Garrick (1717-1779) as Steward of the Stratford Jubilee, September
1769, from a mezzotint in the Theatre Collection of the Harvard College
Library, by Joseph Saunders after Benjamin Van der Gucht
Stratford, 6 September 1769 281
number of nobility and gentry and of the learned and ingenious as-
sembled to do honour to Shakespeare in his native place, gave me
much satisfaction.
As for a description of the Jubilee, I must refer to a letter which
I have written upon the subject in The Public Advertiser of Saturday,
September 1 6th. 9 1 here mention what was particular to myself. I met
several acquaintances before I was aware: two Mr. Swintons from
Scotland, Mr. Love, Mr. Lee. Mr. Victor, Mr. Richardson, printer. At
dinner in the amphitheatre, I found my old brother soaper, 1 Dr. Ber-
keley, who introduced me into a party where he was. It consisted of
several ladies and gentlemen. A Mrs. Sheldon, an Irish lady, wife of
Captain Sheldon, a most agreeable little woman, pleased me most. I
got into great spirits. I paid her particular attention. I began to imag-
ine that she was stealing me from my valuable spouse. I was most
unhappy from this imagination. I rose and went near the orchestra,
and looked steadfastly at that beautiful, insinuating creature, Mrs.
Baddeley of Drury Lane, 2 and in an instant Mrs. Sheldon was effaced.
I then saw that what I feared was love was in reality nothing more
than transient liking. It had no interference with my noble attach-
ment. It was such a momentary diversion from it as the sound of a
flageolet in my ear, a gay colour glancing from a prism before my
eye, or any other pleasing sensation. However, the fear I had put my-
self in made me melancholy. I had been like a timorous man in a post-
chaise, who, when a wagon is passing near it, imagines that it is to
crush it; and I did not soon recover the shock. My having had no
sleep all night, travelled in the rain., and suffered anxiety on account
of my pocket-book, no doubt contributed to my uneasiness. I recol-
lected my former inconstancy, my vicious profligacy, my feverish
9 It is more accessible in The London Magazine for September 1769, which
reprinted it together with u an account of the armed Corsican chief at the
masquerade at Shakespeare's Jubilee."
1 That is, a member of the Soaping Club, a jovial Edinburgh society founded bv
Boswell on his return from London in 1760.
2 Actress and singer, she was the rage of fashionable London. Her acting of
Fanny in Garrick and Colman's Clandestine Marriage so delighted George III
and Queen Charlotte that they ordered her painted by Zoffany in the character.
In later years she became addicted to laudanum, and died poor and wretched in
Edinburgh in 1786.
282 Stratford, 6 September 1769
gallantry, and I was terrified that I might lose my divine passion for
Margaret, in which case I am sure I would suffer more than she. I
prayed devoutly to heaven to preserve me from such a misfortune,
and became easier,
My friend, Mr. Ross of the Edinburgh Theatre, was here. He and
Mrs. Ross had come up on purpose. I drank tea with them, and there I
got acquainted with Mr. King, the comedian, and his wife. King
seemed a genteel, agreeable man. I went to the ball tonight just to see
how the company looked when dressed, and to be able to tell that I
had been there. I was so sleepy that I could hardly stand upon my feet,
so I went home and went to bed immediately. My landlady got me
warm negus, and seemed to be a good, motherly woman, I told her
that perhaps I might retire from the world and just come and live in
my room at Stratford.
THURSDAY j SEPTEMBER. I dined with Messrs. Ross and King-
quietly and comfortably. After dinner in came Mr. Richard Baldwin
of London, bookseller, in immense spirits. He told us that he would
soon have The Public Advertiser worth 2000 a year, and was quite
heroic as a publisher. Mr. and Mrs. Ross and I went to his lodgings to
drink tea. His wife was really a grave, sensible, well-behaved woman,
and his daughter took after the mother.
This was the night of the ball in mask, when I was to appear as a
Corsican chief. I had begun some verses for the Jubilee in that char-
acter but could not finish them. I was quite impatient. I went home
and forced myself to exertion, and at last finished what I intended. I
then ran to Garrick, read them to him, and found him much pleased.
He said the passage as to himself:
Had Garrick, who Dame Nature's pencil stole,
Just where old Shakespeare dropped it, &c.,
was both a fine poetical image and a fine compliment. There was a
fellow called Fulke Weale here, who advertised "printing at an hour's
notice," I suppose taking it for granted that Stratford would produce
a general poetical inspiration, which would exert itself every hour.
To him I went. But Mr. Angelo's fireworks turned his head, and made
him idle. He preferred them to all poetical fire. I then went to the
bookseller and printer of the place, Mr. Keating. He had a lad from
Stratford, 7 September 1769 283
Baskerville's at Birmingham, of Scots extraction, his name Shank. I
found him a clever, active fellow, and set him to work directly. He
brought me a proof to the masquerade ball about two in the morning.
But could not get my verses thrown off in time for me to give them
about in my Corsican dress.
I was quite happy at the masquerade. I had been at a public break-
fast in the town hall, and had tea made for me by my pretty Irish
lady, who no longer disturbed me. Tonight she did me the favour to
dance with me a minuet while I was in complete armour, 3 and, when
I laid aside my arms, a country dance. I got acquainted with Mr.
Murphy, Mr. Colman, Mr. Kelly, Mr. Foote at this Jubilee; 4 also with
Mr. Solicitor Dagge and many others. My Corsican dress attracted
everybody. I was as much a favourite as I could desire. 5 1 had been in
the morning to wait on Mr. Garrick. He lived at Mr. Hunt's, the town
clerk, to whom he introduced me. Mr. Hunt seemed a jolly, sagacious
lawyer, and had an admirable house. I pleased myself with a variety
of ideas with regard to the Jubilee, peculiar to my own mind. I was
like a Frenchman at an ordinary, who takes out of his pocket a box of
pepper and other spices., and seasons a dish in his own way.
FRIDAY 8 SEPTEMBER. We did not get home, many of us, till
past six in the morning. I got about three hours' sleep. Then rose and
called at Baldwin's, where I had some breakfast. The true nature of
human life began now to appear. After the joy of the Jubilee came the
uneasy reflection that I was in a little village in wet weather and knew
not how to get away, for all the post-chaises were bespoke, I don't
know how many times over, by different companies. We were like a
crowd in a theatre. It was impossible we could all go at a time. I first
thought of going to Birmingham with Ross, which, though above
twenty miles out of rny way, was the speediest, if not the shortest, way
to London, as I could there get carriages enough. But Baldwin found
for me a gentleman originally from Scotland, a kind of genius and
patriot. Sir Andrew Chadwick designs him in his will "honest Scott"
3 That is, with Ms musket, stiletto, and pistols,
4 All these men were well-known dramatists; Foote was also a celebrated mimic.
E As Boswell modestly reported in The London Magazine, "The novelty of the
Corsican dress, its becoming appearance, and the character of that brave nation
concurred to distinguish the armed Corsican chief."
284 Stratford, 8 September 1 769
and leaves him three thousand pounds. He had here a chaise from
London to himself, and politely offered me a seat in it next morning.
I sauntered about till about two, when I went into Payton's public
room to have some dinner. At a table by themselves sat two gentlemen
who seemed to know me. I asked them if I could have anything to eat.
They asked me to sit down with them; I did so. They were both Lich-
field men. The one, Mr. Bailye, a middle-aged gentleman who had
been at school with Garrick and knew Mr. Samuel Johnson well. The
other, Lieutenant Vyse of Sir Joseph Yorke's Dragoons, who also knew
Mr. Johnson, being the son of a clergyman in Lichfield in whose fam-
ily my revered friend is intimate. They both named me, and we dined
very agreeably together. It is fine to have such a character as I have.
I enjoy it much.
I then took the parish clerk and went into the great church, and
viewed calmly and solemnly the tomb of Shakespeare. His wife lies
buried beside him. I observed with pleasure that she was seven years
older than he, for it has been objected that my valuable spouse is a
little older than I am. I read with much satisfaction a monumental
inscription to the memory of Samuel Walford (I think, as I had
neither pen nor pencil), "who, after many years spent in trade, re-
tired to think of eternity." 6 This is just my system. I have mentioned
it in my Account of Corsica on the subject of convents.
I began to think that honest Scott, who seemed to be very dissi-
pated, would not be the best travelling companion for me. Mr. Rich-
ardson, the printer, and a Captain Johnston of an Indiaman, had also
a chaise. I drank tea with them, and we agreed to go all three to-
gether, which was a more comfortable plan for me. I went to Mr. Gar-
rick and gave him a parcel of my Verses. 7 He read them to rne in such
a manner that I was quite elated. They seemed admirable. My money
had run short. So I asked him to let me have five guineas. He told me
his brother George had taken almost all he had from him. "Come,
come," said I, u that won't do. Five guineas I must have, and you must
find them for me." I saw very well that he was not making any serious
6 A good opportunity to test Boswell's memory. Samuel Walford, "after many
years employed in trade, retired to prepare for eternity." Boswell was writing
at least eight days later (see the reference to The Public Advertiser of 16 Septem-
ber in the entry for 6 September) .
7 His Verses in the Character of a Corsican. They are printed in Appendix A.
Stratford, 8 September 1769 285
difficulty. "Well," said he, "you are right, you are a stranger. I must
get you them." So he run to Mrs. Garrick, and brought me them. I
went to bed in good time.
SATURDAY Q SEPTEMBER. I left an apology to honest Scott
that, as I was in a hurry to get to town, I had set out. About five
o'clock we left Stratford., much consoled by comparing our situation
with that of such as were left. We had a London chaise which had
come down here, and we agreed to take it all the way. It seemed very
tedious. But luckily for us, the chaise was in such bad condition that
we had a just plea to get rid of it at Oxford. The driver too was a surly
dog. He stopped us at a village near half an hour to get a wheel
mended, and then swore we had not been kept above five minutes. My
companions scolded him to good purpose. Richardson said his meas-
urement of time was such that he might make hour-glasses to the
Patagonians, a droll fancy, as if the time of these people were in pro-
portion to the size of their bodies. We breakfasted at Chapel House,
and got to Oxford to dinner. I sent for Mr. Mickle, who came and sat
a while with me; and then he and I paid a visit to Dr. Smith, my old
acquaintance. It was very agreeable to see a Maybole man a professor
at Oxford. We took a post-chaise and drove to Benson, where we stayed
all night.
SUNDAY 10 SEPTEMBER. We reposed well here, and after tak-
ing a comfortable breakfast drove on. It is not right to travel on Sun-
day. I very seldom do it. We were amused with Captain Johnston
speaking such broken English as the Chinese do. He told us a China-
man at Canton showed him Wilkes's head in china, and said, a He
knockifar your king. Your king fooly king. Do so here, cutty head.
Inglis no love your king; Cots (Scots) love your king." It is curious
that people at such a distance can understand so much of the minutiae
of Britain. We dined at Salthill.
Colman and Lacy of Drury Lane were there. I walked a little with
Colman in the garden, and asked him if he would bring on a comedy
written in Scotland which I had read, and which was then lying with
him. He said no. It would not do. There was very good sense in it. But
it would not bear representation. He said it was with writers of plays
as with players: many of lesser sense will please when those of greater
sense fail. There is a particular knack necessary.
286 Hounslow, 10 September 1769
We stopped at Hounslow and had coffee and tea. Captain Johnston
was born at Dumfries, but had not been in Scotland for a vast many
years, and had acquired the true English oddity. He said he should
find nobody in London on a Sunday, and therefore he would stay a
couple of hours at Hounslow, and take a chaise and drive in at night.
A true John Bull scheme. Surely he would tire as much at Hounslow,
one should think, as in London. We persuaded him off his project, and
came all to town together. I found at Mr. Billy's two French transla-
tions of my Account of Corsica. One of them had come consigned to
Mr. Wilkes, who sent me many compliments. I had a desire to visit
the pleasant fellow, but thought it might hurt me essentially. 8 The
translations of my book flattered my vanity. It is a curious sensation
one has from reading one's own composition when put in a foreign
dress. 9
MONDAY 11 SEPTEMBER. I hastened to my friend Dempster' s,
and found excellent letters from my valuable friend. We breakfasted
agreeably. I was finding fault with John Home, and regretting that
an ingenious and really a good man should be such a coxcomb. 1
Dempster said it was not to be regretted. It was John's distinguishing
characteristic. "Every man," said he, "carries his flag, like the ships
of different nations. Foppery is John Home's flag." A lively thought.
He and I went and called on Sir John Pringle. I cannot say anything
passed but the weather and the Russian fleet. 2
I called on Dr. Kennedy, and this night I began to take the Lisbon
Diet Drink. 3 I called on my fellow-traveller, Mr. Kinloch, but did not
8 Wilkes was in jail. After his election from Middlesex, he surrendered on the
decree against him of outlawry that had been passed in 1764, and was committed
to prison. The Court of King's Bench reversed the outlawry, but fined him 1000
and sentenced him to nearly two years' imprisonment on his prior convictions.
The House of Commons expelled him three times, and finally declared a Court
tool elected in his place. He remained in prison until 17 April 1770.
9 On 4 October he made a note to "write letter against" one of them (that by
J. P. I. Dubois), probably because he had found that it was an abridgement.
1 Author of the noted neo-classical tragedy, Douglas. Formerly a minister in
the Church of Scotland, he had been secretary to Lord Bute and tutor to George
III while Prince of Wales.
2 Russia and Turkey were at war. A Russian fleet headed for Constantinople was
expected at Spithead, where it arrived near the end of the month.
3 Dr. Kennedy's nostrum. (He had been for many years physician to the British
Factory at Lisbon.) Its virtues are thus extolled in a contemporary advertise-
London, 11 September 1769 287
find him. I received a noble letter from Mr. Samuel Johnson, then at
Brighton, containing both warmth of friendship and admirable praise
of my Tour to Corsica. It set me high. I dined at Mr. Dilly's. Dr. Daw-
son, a physician, a great man for the reigning notions of liberty and
for the dissenting kind of religion, dined with us. I went to Foote's
theatre in the Haymarket, and saw Sheridan play Brutus. One of the
players, I forget his name, I shall call him Carey, was always laugh-
ing. Many people around me grumbled, but did no more. "Come,"
said I, "I'll stop him." So, as he was going off, I called quite out,
"Carey, you rascal, what do you laugh for?" This made him as grave
and serious as a bishop. The people around thought me a great man.
"I'll tell you," said I, "if he had continued to laugh, I would have
catched hold of the spikes, jumped upon the stage, and beat him with
my stick before the audience." This made me appear as great as
Brutus himself. So easily is momentary admiration to be gained, and
so wonderfully inclined am I to be a London playhouse buck.
[Received 1 1 September, Johnson to Boswell] 4
Brighton, 9 September 1 769
DEAR SIR, Why do you charge me with unkindness? I have
omitted nothing that could do you good or give you pleasure, unless
it be that I have forborne to tell you my opinion of your Account of
Corsica* I believe my opinion, if you think well of my judgment,
fnent (Public Advertiser, 7 October 1769): "The Lisbon Diet Drink, so well
known to people of the highest rank for many years in curing every species of
the scurvy, even to that of a leprosy. It acts as an alterative, and answers every
intention of a benign salivation, without the least confinement or hurt to the
most delicate constitution. Also those who have been injured by a certain dis-
order, and brought almost to a total weakness, will find this the greatest restora-
tive in nature. . . . This solution is more pleasant to the taste, will keep longer,
and may be sent to any part of the kingdom put up in pint bottles, with printed
directions, at half a guinea each. To be had at Mr. Woodcock's, perfumer, in
Orange Street, Red Lion Square, and nowhere else."
4 Printed in The Life of Johnson.
5 Actually Johnson had already expressed his opinion of Corsica (see entry for 2
May 1768). Geoffrey Scott suggested that Boswell suppressed this earlier con-
versation in The Life of Johnson because he wanted Johnson's later written
praise to appear with the greatest possible effect.
288 London, 11 September 1769
might have given you pleasure; but when it is considered how much
vanity is excited by praise, I am not sure that it would have done you
good. Your History 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 within. Your
History was copied from books; your Journal rose out of your own ex-
perience and observation. You express images which operated strong-
ly 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.
I am glad that you are going to be married; and as I wish you well
in things of less importance, wish you well with proportionate ardour
in this crisis of your life. What I can contribute to your happiness, I
should be very unwilling to withhold; for I have always loved and
valued you, and shall love you and value you still more as you become
more regular and useful: effects which a happy marriage will hardly
fail to produce.
I do not find that I am likely to come back very soon from this
place. I shall, perhaps, stay a fortnight longer; arid a fortnight is a
long time to a lover absent from his mistress. Would a fortnight ever
have an end? I am, dear Sir, your most affectionate, humble servant,
SAM. JOHNSON.
TUESDAY 12 SEPTEMBER, I dined at Mr. Harris's. I observed
that the petitioners to His Majesty at this season of opposition, when
they tried to appear sensible amidst their madness, were like a
drunken man trying to seem very grave and rational. Between five
and six I came home and stood to have a drawing of me, as the armed
Corsican chief at Stratford, taken by Mr. Wale. 7 It was pleasing to
6 The controversy over Wilkes's status had given rise to numerous petitions list-
ing grievances against the Ministry and urging the dissolution of Parliament.
7 Wale's sketch (which may have been a work of some distinction) is not known
to have survived. An uninspired engraving from it by J. Miller (see the entry
for 23 September) appeared in The London Magazine for this month accom-
panying Boswell's letter and essay (see p. 281 n.g). It is not a good likeness, and
has been so much hackneyed by reproduction that we have ventured to exclude
it from our list of illustrations, A re-drawn version of it appears on the spine of
the dust jacket.
London, 12 September 1769 289
think that I was at that moment getting my figure done in London, to
be engraved for four thousand London Magazines.
WEDNESDAY 13 SEPTEMBER. I breakfasted with Dempster.
He was reading Carter's Epictetus, and he spoke much in praise of
Stoicism. I said, "We should only have a little of it." "True," said he,
"a man should have it like a box of Cayenne pepper. It is the best
seasoner in the world." Mr. Kinloch went with me to the Old Bailey,
where I heard two women tried for theft and found guilty. Justice is
administered here very quickly, but I believe very fairly. I dined at
Mr. Billy's, and after dinner he and I went and saw the Bank of Eng-
land, the grandeur and elegance of which filled me with noble ideas.
The number, too, of the books and papers gave me great satisfaction,
to see with "what order and exactness the greatest multiplicity of af-
fairs may be conducted.
Mr. Samuel Vaughan, who had been one of the most zealous
friends of the Corsicans in promoting the contribution for them, had
called several times on me, and I on him at his town house. 8 Mr. Dilly
and I this afternoon took the Hackney stage and went to see him there.
He was at this time under a cloud, having offered 5000 to the Duke
of Grafton to procure a place to his son. He was writing his defence.
So we found him in his nightcap. He chanced to let it fall. I lifted it.
He made an apology. "Sir," said I, smiling, "it is the cap of liberty."
He lived in noble apartments in the house which formerly belonged
to the noted Ward, mentioned by Pope:
To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, or the Devil. 9
(Sir John Pringle sarcastically observed that the house had good luck
as to inhabitants; and when I said I had heard that Mr. Vaughan was
truly a worthy, generous man, "True," said Dr. Franklin, "he was
very generous to the Duke of Grafton.") 1 Mr. Vaughan seemed not a
little confused and awkward. He was engaged to tea at Dr. Dawson's
8 Vaughan, a wealthy West-Indian merchant, was an ardent Wilkesite and
"American": in 1785 he presented Washington with the elaborately carved
Italian mantelpiece still to be seen in the banquet room at Mount Vernon.
9 Moral Essays, iii. 20 ("or" for "and").
1 Benjamin Franklin. These remarks were probably made on 15 September (see
end of entry for that day).
290 Hackney., 13 September 1769
just by. So we went there. It was tiresome enough. But it did not last
long. Mr. Dilly and I returned quietly home.
THURSDAY 14 SEPTEMBER. Dempster called on me and car-
ried me with him to the India House, where I heard some debates on
sending the supervisors to India, and felt that I could debate there too
if I were a proprietor. I was happy to hear Dempster doing very well.
I was here till near five. It was grand to think that these people here
in London had power over immense countries at so great a distance. I
eat a beefsteak at Dolly's.
I then called on Dr. Kennedy. Found he was a gaping babbler. I
had no trust to his head, but made use of him as an engine to play
upon and extinguish fire, which his decoction certainly does. I was
uneasy, and already impatient to see some effect. I had heard that
Colin Campbell, the advocate, who was now going to Grenada, had
received much benefit from Kennedy. I called on him at his lodgings
in Devereux Court. But he was in the Temple at Mr. Irving's, late of
Auchinbedrig, a solicitor here. I went there and was introduced to
Mr. Irving, whom I found to be an agreeable and a sensible man,
who brought Scotch ideas fully into London. Colin assured me that
after spending above 300 on his cure at Edinburgh in vain, Kennedy
had cured him in a very few weeks; and he told me Duncan Forbes,
surgeon to the Horse Guards, had gone with him to Kennedy. This
comforted me. For it makes a great odds when one has the aid of a
regular practitioner whom one knows.
FRIDAY 15 SEPTEMBER. I breakfasted with Mr. Forbes. His
firm tone and rough animal spirits raised mine. He was very candid.
He said different kinds of medicines would be effectual on different
constitutions and at different times. That it was needless to argue
against facts. That he had known very desperate cases cured by Ken-
nedy's Diet Drink. That I was pursuing a very safe course; that he
approved of it, would superintend my cure, and would go with me to
Kennedy's. This made me very easy.
I called on Mr. Sheridan. His astonishing vanity made me won-
der. But his knowledge and talents pleased me. He complained that
our present system of education is too general, and does not fit a young
man for any one state, of life. That it was as if people should read lec-
tures upon the human frame to a young man, and then bid him go
London, 15 September 1769 291
and make a statue. I met Mr. Forbes at Mr. Colin Campbell's, and he
and I went to Kennedy's and had the form of a consultation.
I then dined quietly at home with Mr. Charles Dilly, after which
1 went to call on my cousin, Mr. Charles Boswell. He is a younger son
of the late David Boswell of Craigston, whose father was Mungo Bos-
well, son to John Boswell of Auchinleck by a second marriage with
the daughter of Stewart, Lord Ochiltree. 2 Charles was upon the expe-
dition to Cartagena with Lord Cathcart, as a surgeon. 3 On his return
he was very poor, and his relations in Scotland were not kind to him.
He then went to Jamaica, and afterwards was a lieutenant in a regi-
ment in Britain for several years. He went back again to Jamaica, got
the care of several plantations, and made a great deal of money. He
had not been in Scotland for thirty years. He came to England above
a year ago. His relations, who had heard nothing certain of him for
many years, were extremely curious to know all about him when it
appeared that he was very rich. His brother John, and his nephews
Hallglenmuir and Knockroon, came up and saw him. 4 1 wrote to him
on hearing that he was a zealous friend both to the Corsicans and to
Douglas. His answer to my letter showed a proper feeling of the neg-
lect he had formerly experienced, and a strong regard for me. "My
heart warms to such a man," were his words. He had called on me
this forenoon. I wished to show him my eagerness to meet him. So
went, as soon as I could, to his house in Newman Street, Oxford Road.
He was not at home. So I left a card with my name. The maid ran
after me, and told me that her mistress was at home and begged to
see me. I knew he had a lady who had lived with him for several
2 This genealogy is far from accurate. The Boswells of Craigston derived from
the first marriage of John Boswell of Auchinleck, and there was at least one
more generation in the descent. Though loyalty to the Family of Auchinleck
was one of the main passions of BoswelFs being, he was always very vague and
hazy as to the details of his family history. His father and grandfather, though
less enthusiastic in their professions, were both precise genealogists.
3 The British attacked this Spanish possession on the Caribbean in 1741. The at-
tack was a miserable failure, owing chiefly to poor medical and sanitary arrange-
ments. Smollett also served on this expedition, and drew on his experiences in
writing Roderick Random.
4 John Boswell, younger brother to Charles, had married the heiress of Knock-
roon, which explains why his son was Knockroon and he was not.
292 London, 15 September 1769
years. I returned, and found her to be a comely, sensible, agreeable
woman, with a modesty and decency of behaviour very different from
that of a kept mistress, I drank tea with her, and was pleased to find
that she knew so much of our family. She told me what age I was. It
gave me concern to think she was not my cousin's wife. It was also
out of character for a son of Auchinleck to be living in a licentious
style. 5 1 promised to return to breakfast next morning.
I called at Sir John Pringle's. I found him and his travelling com-
panion, Dr. Franklin, sitting playing at chess. 6 Sir John, though a
most worthy man, has a peculiar, sour manner. Franklin again is all
jollity and pleasantry. I said to myself, "Here is a fine contrast: acid
and alkali." I took the warm bath in Newgate Street.
SATURDAY 1 6 SEPTEMBER. I walked out betimes to visit my
cousin Charles. I was impatient, curious, and agitated to think of
meeting for the first time with him. He received me in the passage,
and I at once saw him to be a son of Thomas Boswell of Auchinleck. 7
Each of us could perceive a family likeness in the other. He proved to
be a sensible, plain, well-bred gentleman, very cordial, and very good
company. I cannot describe what satisfaction I had from seeing a de-
scendant of our ancient family. We were just like brothers. I told him
a great deal about Scotland, and he entertained me with telling me a
great deal about Jamaica. "Come," said he, u will you take pot luck
with us?" And turning to his mistress, "We are not," said he, "in
order yet, as we are just got into this house. But I see he's an easy
man." I was engaged to dinner, but promised to come back and drink
tea.
I observe continually how imperfectly, upon most occasions,
words preserve our ideas. This interview is but faintly seen in my
Journal. And all I have said of the Stratford Jubilee is very dim in
comparison of the scene itself. In description we omit insensibly many
little touches which give life to objects. With how small a speck does
a painter give life to an eye! The vivid glances of Garrick's features,
which cannot be copied in words, will illuminate an extent of sensa-
5 Charles Boswell married his mistress later in the autumn, perhaps partly
through Boswell' s urging.
6 Pringle had travelled with Franklin on the Continent.
7 First laird of Auchinleck, who died at Flodden Field in 1513.
London, 16 September 1769 293
tion, if that term may be used, as a spark from a flint will throw a
lustre in a dark night for a considerable space around it. 8 Certain
looks of my dearest life and certain tones of her voice, which I defy all
the masters of language to show upon paper, have engaged my soul in
an angelic manner. I find myself ready to write unintelligibly when I
attempt to give any kind of idea of such subjects.
I called on Lady Margaret Macdonald, but did not find her at
home. I then called on Signor Baretti, who had been on a tour through
Spain, and was employed in preparing for the press four octavo vol-
umes of his travels, for which he got 500. He was so full of himself,
and so assuming and really ferocious in his manner, that he disgusted
me not a little. I then called on Dempster, with whom I sauntered
about through the new streets round Soho till dinner time.
I dined with Mr. Sheridan. He had nobody with him but his two
daughters and two sons, who were surprisingly grown since I saw
them in 1763, and seemed to be a fine family. 9 Sheridan said he
thought Dr. Reid of Glasgow's Essay on the Human Mind on the
Principles of Common Sense a standard book. It gave me satisfaction
to hear this. For my Lord Marischal lent me it at Berlin soon after it
came out, and it settled my mind, which had been very uneasy from
speculations in the abstruse and sceptical style. Sheridan said that
Reid's book was the most correct of any that North Britain had pro-
duced, for that he had not found one Scotticism in it. I am amazed this
book is so little known. Hume has spoiled the taste of this age. Men do
not wish to be taught sound wisdom and morality. I observed to Mr.
Sheridan that although my father and I differed a good deal, yet upon
8 Garrick's powers of expression were famous. Boswell reported in his description
of the Jubilee in The London Magazine that after Garrick had recked his Dedi-
cation Ode, Lord Grosvenor "told Mr. Garrick that he had affected his whole
frame, showing him his veins and nerves still quivering with agitation."
9 The younger of the sons was the statesman and dramatist, at this time not
quite eighteen. Anne Elizabeth, the youngest daughter, aged eleven, remem-
bered this day and told her daughter about it: "In the year 1769, Mrs. H. Lefanu,
then a child, remembers a thin, eager-looking young man in black who talked a
great deal about General Paoli. Mr. Sheridan said to him in his good-humoured
way, 4 I suppose you are in mourning for Corsica?' to which he answered in the
affirmative. This was James Boswell" (Alicia Lefanu, Memoirs of the Life and
Writings of Mrs. Frances Sheridan, 1824, pp. 336-337)-
2 94 London, 16 September 1769
the whole our system was much the same. That we were like two men
on horseback who set out from a post at one part of a circle in order to
N
reach a post at an opposite part. My father | O | takes the northern and
o
rugged side. I again take the southern, gay side. He is very angry to
see me taking what is seemingly the direct contrary road to his. But if
he will have patience, he will find us both at the same ending post. In
the mean time, however, he cries, "It is a strange thing you will not
come with me," and is very ill pleased. While I cry, "Never mind.
Let me take my own way. I shall do well enough."
I called for a quarter of an hour on Dempster, and he and I talked
of the sarcastical temper of the Scots : how it checked all endeavours at
excellence, and made people very uneasy. I then drank tea at Charles
Boswell's. I informed him of my being to be married, and he was very
glad to hear that I was to be so happy. I then marched home to the
Poultry.
SUNDAY 17 SEPTEMBER. My illness seemed to go off very
slowly. I was anxious and uneasy. I breakfasted with Mr. Forbes, and
he gave me encouragement. 1 I then called on Sir John Pringle, and
strolled a little with him towards Golden Square. I then went to the
Bavarian Minister's Roman Catholic Chapel to revive in my mind
former days when, in that very place, I was so solemnly happy in
thinking myself united to the grand and only true church. But it had
little effect upon me. I could not have so much devotion there as in the
Churches of England. Mrs. Bellamy, the actress, was there. I just
bowed to her and went out, without any farther intercourse.
I dined at Dr, Kennedy's, His sister was a great, fat woman, a kind
of greasy wit. There was a curious company, and strange formality.
A Dr. Sutherland from Bath, who had just come from a tour in Ger-
many, was there. He was the most determined talker I ever heard. He
hardly ever looked at the company, but keeping his eyes on the table
he would go on as a boy says his lesson. He seemed to be a jolly, sensi-
1 In the Memorandum for this day, Boswell advised himself to "breakfast, Mr.
Forbes. Consult as to plaster and camphorated friction." The plaster almost
certainly contained a mercuric ointment. "Camphorated friction" probably
refers to the use of camphor liniment, which was applied externally as a mild
stimulant or counter-irritant. See p. 317 n.g.
London., 17 September 1769 295
ble fellow. We had here, too, Shirley, the author of The Black Prince,
a tragedy. Mr. Garrick had kindly brought on that play at Drury
Lane, and so put a considerable sum in Shirley's pocket. But, because
he did not bring on another for him, Shirley most ungratefully be-
came his mortal enemy. He attacked our Stratford Jubilee and Gar-
rick's Ode with virulence, and I defended both with keenness. I did
not know till he was gone that my antagonist was Shirley. Had I
known it, he should have had enough from me. I would have trimmed
him.
After coffee, Dr. Kennedy and Dr. Sutherland and I went to Dr.
Campbell's in Queen Square, when I was introduced to that volumi-
nous author. I found him to be a fat, pleasant man, full of knowledge
and of entertaining stories. He had a rosy countenance, a large wig-, a
brown coat, with a scarlet waistcoat with broad gold lace. He had no
rust of authorship upon him, and looked more like an admiral himself
than like one who had written the Lives of the Admirals. He had been
a great favourite of the Duke of Argyll's, and he revived to me my
ideas of the Duke in my younger years. 2 He told me that Wilkes said
to him one day, "Dr. Campbell, I have seen a miracle this morning";
to which he answered, "Miracles are now very rare, and, if there was
to be one, I doubt if you would believe it." "But," said Wilkes, "I
really have seen a miracle: a Scotsman in a post-chaise going home
with a smile upon his countenance." This happened to be Mr.
Veitch, now Lord Eliock, who has always a kind of smile or grin. I
should have mentioned that I called before dinner on George Lewis
Scott, whom I found hearty and well. I observed to him that there
should be half a dozen of Menages in every age to preserve the re-
markable sayings which are often lost. Dr. Campbell said Mr. John-
son was a very great man. In short he pleased me much.
I made an experiment to see if I could go home without asking the
way at all. So I walked from street to street a long time. At last I
found myself in the fields near to the Foundling Hospital. This was
not so safe. So I just turned back, was happy to get again into a crowd-
ed street, and then asked my way and got to my quarters in good time.
2 It was the Duke who remarked when Boswell wanted a commission in the
Guards in 1760: "That boy must not be shot at for three and sixpence a day"
(Boswelliana, ed. Rev. Charles Rogers, 1874, p. 229).
296 London, 17 September 1769
I was very well at Mr. Dilly's, Mrs. Jedd, his housekeeper, was a
governess to me. James, his footman, was most obsequious, and my
linen were washed and dressed by a city laundress to do one's heart
good to see them.
MONDAY 18 SEPTEMBER. I had promised to pay a visit to my
old friend Mr. Love, and see him in his greatness as manager of the
Theatre Royal on Richmond Green. So I this morning set out in the
Richmond stage. Among the passengers was one who, I believe, was a
German old lady. She spoke broken English. But, knowing the antipa-
thy of the people of this country to foreigners, she thought to persuade
us that her manner of speaking was owing only to loss of teeth. We had
a fine, hale old gentleman, a Tory, who took care to remind us that
the title which his present Majesty has to the British throne is his
being a descendant of the House of Stuart; and he gave it as his opin-
ion that the mad Lascar who some days before that had disfigured
Queen Anne's statue in St. Paul's Churchyard, was not so very mad,
but was in fact set on by the violent Whigs. 3
It was a most delightful day. Richmond seemed delicious. Mr.
Love's theatre is a very handsome one, having everything in minia-
ture. He and I, after seeing it, took a walk on the banks of the Thames,
and recalled our having walked together on Arthur's Seat. Mrs. Love
looked very well, though verging on fifty; and Billy was grown a sur-
prising musician. He played to me on the pianoforte. 4 1 tried to ana-
lyse the operation, and saw how mechanical music is when a boy of
thirteen can do so much in that art. I know not how it is, but we fancy
we feel a kind of soul in music, a kind of expression which speaks to
us. We respect the performer of a noble piece. But I believe that the
performer is often less sensible than the people who hear him.
Miss Radley, apprentice to Mr. Love, a fine little young actress, a
very good singer and a very modest girl, dined with us, as did Mrs.
3 Not "some days before" but on the previous morning". The. Lascar broke off both
the arms, with the globe and sceptre, and disfigured the emblematic figures
surrounding the pedestal. When apprehended he drew a knife on one of the
constable's men.
4 William Dance (Love was his father's stage name) became eminent in his
profession, and in 1813 was made a director and treasurer of the newly formed
Philharmonic Society.
Richmond, 18 September 1769 297
Moff at, a Carlisle woman, cousin german to Mr. David Armstrong the
advocate, and dresser to Mrs. Barry of Drury Lane Theatre. My old
friend treated me with old hock, and I was really well, thinking of the
ideas of players which we find in Addison, and many other ideas
which please such a fancy as mine. When Mr, and Mrs. Love went to
the theatre to dress, Miss Radley made tea for me, and went with me to
one of the high boxes, and was like a little daughter to me. Mr. Love
played Richard the Third very well in some of the kind of comic
scenes, but he is not a good tragedian. Mrs. Love as Catherine, and
Keaseberry, whom we had formerly at Edinburgh, as Petruchio,
played very well in the farce, as did Waldron, also one of our Edin-
burgh performers. 5 1 had my Kennedy's bottle by the afternoon stage
and was quite regular, and I had a neat little room at Mr. Love's (I
fancy Miss Radley's) , with bandboxes and laced caps and I know not
how many pleasing objects all about me.
TUESDAY 19 SEPTEMBER. Between eight and nine I had a
comfortable breakfast, and at nine took the stage to town, but had no
company except some idle women. My cousin Captain Bosville, then
on duty in the Tower, called for me at Mr. Billy's and engaged me to
dine in the Tower next day. G
Mr. Sheridan, Dr. Dawson, and a Captain Clunie, formerly a
very rich man, dined with us at Mr. Dilly 's. Mr. Sheridan in his usual
style lamented the depravity of the age, and maintained that there
was little religion. "Oh," said I, "when they who seem most thought-
less are dying, they have all serious apprehensions." Mr. Sheridan
upon this made a curious observation. "Very few now die," said he.
"Physicians take care to conceal people's danger from them. So that
they are carried off, properly without dying; that is to say, without
being sensible of it." Clunie had commanded a merchant ship, and
made many voyages. He had just published a book called The Ameri-
can Traveller. 7 He talked incessantly, and put an end to all recipro-
cation of converse. He would make us hear his many projects. At first
we were angry with him, till we saw him to be what is called a
5 The farce was David Garrick's alteration of The Taming of the Shrew entitled
Catherine and Petruchio.
6 William, eldest son of Godfrey Bosville, a lieutenant in the Coldstream Guards.
7 Through Dilly; hence his presence at the dinner.
298 London, 19 September 1769
character, and then he entertained us. He insisted on our dining with
him on Saturday.
Mr. Sheridan and I walked to Soho, and I informed him of my
marriage. I drank tea with Dempster. I said the Outer House of the
Court of Session was a good house for me, but it required a garden,
and the amusement of London was my garden. We were very cheer-
ful and happy.
WEDNESDAY 20 SEPTEMBER. I breakfasted with Mr. Forbes. I
found myself in such a state that it would be necessary for me to have
lodgings nearer him than in the City. I tried to get lodgings in Bos-
well's Court near Red Lion Square, or in Boswell's Court, Lincoln's
Inn Fields. But could get none. 8 I however met with a very good
habitation, just opposite to the latter, at the house of Mr. Careless. I
saw the name upon a door in Carey Street. It took my fancy. There
was a bill, "Lodgings to be let." So I went in and found very gretty
ones. I asked Mrs. Careless what was Mr. Careless's profession. Her
answer was, "No particular profession." This was quite in character
for Careless. I took the lodgings for a week.
I dined at the Tower with Captain Bosville and several of his
brother officers of the Guards, some of whom were really very sensi-
ble, agreeable company. Colonel Wright and Bosville fell a-disputing
about something. Bosville would not give up his argument. The
Colonel said he put him in mind of a young man who was once under
his care, and, while he thought he was profiting by a serious lecture
he was giving him, the young man looked up to a flock of crows flying-
over their heads and bid the Colonel look, who therefore gave him up
as incorrigible. How the story was to apply to Bosville, I cannot say.
But I called to him, "Come, Captain. Don't give up your argument to
the Colonel. Don't let him crow over you."
THURSDAY 21 SEPTEMBER. I breakfasted with Mr. John Don-
aldson, the bookseller, and then he carried me over the way to Marr's,
the hatter, in whose house was lodged a Chinese. Mr. Man* took me
into his back parlour and there he introduced me to the Chinese, who
was not a man of fashion but an ingenious artist in taking likenesses
8 He was trying to imitate Johnson, who at this time lived in Johnson's Court,
When he was in Scotland in 1773, Johnson referred to himself as "Johnson of
that ilk."
London, 21 September 1769 299
in terracotta (fine earth) , which he works very neatly. He spoke some
imperfect English. He was precisely such a figure as we see on an
Indian screen. I got him to read a little to me from a fan with Chinese
characters. It was just what Mr. Johnson told me of another Chinese:
a sound like the ringing of a small bell.
I then called at Mr. Thomas Davies's, the bookseller. Dr. Gold-
smith was there. I had not seen him for near three years. We met
quite frankly. He pleased me by telling me that he had supped the
night before in a company where I was highly spoken of., and that Mr.
Colman had very justly observed that my character was simplicity:
not in a sense of weakness, but of being plain and unaffected. Rose,
Matthew Henderson's old governor, who keeps an academy at Chis-
wick, came in. He is a bold, honest fellow, and a man of coarse abili-
ties. We talked of the celebrated political writer, Junius. Goldsmith
would not allow him great merit. He said he was like a flower upon a
dunghill. He appeared in a newspaper in which the writing is so bad
that his seems very good. I said he was a keen writer; that his pen was
a caustic, and like a caustic burnt a sound part as well as a corrupted.
Rose said writing for the stage was the most profitable. Goldsmith
said, "No"; writing for Davies was the most profitable. "Why, now,"
said he, "I am just now writing a natural history for which I get a
thousand pounds. That kind of writing is sure, whereas writing plays
is difficult and their profits uncertain." 9 He recounted to us all the dis-
agreeable circumstances attending a dramatic author.
I dined at Mr. Billy's. We had with us the Reverend Mr. Stretch,
who has compiled a book in which he praises my Account of Corsica
very much. 3 1 said I was afraid he had stretched a point. But I said this
only to Mr. Dilly. I called at Dempster's, and finding no letter from
my dearest was uneasy. It was not a post day from Scotland. So
Dempster cheered me with hopes for next day. He and I had a disser-
tation on my plan of life. We agreed that I might be happy with a
9 This is somewhat misleading. Goldsmith was not writing the "natural history"
for Davies, but for Griffin. He was to receive 800 guineas for it. In June of this
year, however, he had interrupted the work on that project to write The History
of England for Davies, a four- volume work, for 500.
1 The Beauties of History, or Pictures of Virtue and Vice drawn from Real Life,
2 vols., published by Dilly. It ran through fifteen editions between 1769 and
1815.
3oo London, 21 September 1769
seven years' seat in Parliament, if it could be had easily. But, in the
mean time, I was very well with the law in Scotland.
I went to a club to which I belong. 2 It meets every other Thursday
at St. Paul's Coffee-house. It consists of clergymen, physicians, and
several other professions. There are of it: Dr. Franklin, Rose of Chis-
wick, Burgh of Newington Green, Mr. Price who writes on morals,
Dr. Jeffries, a keen Supporter of the Bill of Rights, 3 and a good many
more. We have wine and punch upon the table. Some of us smoke a
pipe, conversation goes on pretty formally, sometimes sensibly and
sometimes furiously. At nine there is a sideboard with Welsh rabbits
and apple-puffs, porter and beer. Our reckoning is about, i8d. a head.
Much was said this night against the Parliament. I said that, as it
seemed to be agreed that all Members of Parliament became cor-
rupted^ it was better to choose men already bad, and so save good men.
Dr. Franklin informed me that Paoli was actually arrived in London,
for he had seen Mr. Wood, the Hinder-Secretary of State, who had
been with him. This was noble news to me. I went this night to my
lodgings at Mr. Careless's. I said I was now the Philosophe de Sans
Souci* The very name of the maid was uncommon. She was called
Phoebe. I liked my lodgings much.
FRIDAY 22 SEPTEMBER. I breakfasted with Mr. Forbes, who
has the best breakfast in London, having marmalade made him by
his nieces in Scotland. I then went to Old Bond Street and called on
Paoli. A footman who opened the door said he was not well and could
not see company, and made a great many difficulties. "Stay," said I.
"Get me a bit of paper and pen and ink, and I'll write a note to him."
His valet de chambre came down. Seeing something about him like
what I had been used to see in Corsica, I asked him in Italian if he was
a Corsican. He answered, "Yes, Sir," "Oh, then," said I, "there is no
occasion to write. My name is Boswell." No sooner had I said this,
2 Essentially a group of Benjamin Franklin's friends called by him "The Honest
Whigs." Boswell seems out of place in a club of honest Whigs and dissenting
clergymen, and a few years later would certainly have felt uncomfortable in
that company. He was now united to them by his love of "liberty," the first word
and recurring theme of Corsica.
3 The "Supporters of the Bill of Rights" were a group of Wilkes's friends.
4 Frederick the Great was the "philosopher of Sans Souci," the name of his
retreat in Potsdam. It means "Careless."
London, 22 September 1769 301
than Giuseppe (for that was his name) gave a jump, catched hold of
my hand and kissed it, and clapped his hand several times upon my
shoulders with such a natural joy and fondness as flattered me exceed-
ingly. Then he ran upstairs before me like an Italian harlequin, being
a very little fellow, and opening the door of the General's bedcham-
ber, called out, "Mr. Boswell." I heard the General give a shout before
I saw him. When I entered he was in his night-gown and nightcap.
He ran to me, took me all in his arms, and held me there for some
time. I cannot describe my feelings on meeting him again. We sat
down, and instantly were just as when we parted. I found myself
much rusted in my Italian. The General made a fine observation
upon a man's being in want of language. '"When," said he, "I came
over to Italy, and was obliged there and in Germany to speak French,
in which I had not a fluency from want of practice, je trouvais mon
ame renfermee comme dans un cachot"* An admirable metaphor.
The more it is considered, the better it appears. How well does it show
the soul shut up, and ideas struggling to get out! He had a number of
newspapers on his table. He was struck with the daring style of the
political writings in them. Said he: U I am come here to a northern
country, and I find the newspapers all on fire."
In came Count Gentili, a Corsican, who had a company in the
Imperial service but left it from a zeal to serve his country, and had
been about a year with Paoli. He was a lean, beak-nosed gentleman
between thirty and f orty^ much Germanized in his manner, no extra-
ordinary genius but good-natured and enterprising. He was very
happy to see me. The General had also with him his secretary, the
Abbe Guelfucci, whom I have painted in my Corsican Tour. 6 He and
I were glad to meet again. Here was also Mr. Burnaby, chaplain to
the British factory at Leghorn. Though I had corresponded with him
frequently, I had never seen him till now. 7 He did not answer my idea
at all. He seemed a worthy, sensible, and knowing man. But he had a
5 "I found my soul shut up as if in a cell."
6 U A man whose talents and virtues, united with a singular decency and sweet-
ness of manners, have raised him to the honourable station of secretary to the
General" (Corsica, p. 338).
7 Burnaby, who had visited Paoli in 1766, had allowed Boswell to quote at length
from his Journal in Corsica.
302 London, 22 September 1769
curious, lank countenance, and a reserve and closeness that I some-
times laughed at and sometimes was angry at. The General had his
hair dressed and then appeared in a blue frock suit, plain cloth with a
white silk lining. He looked very well, having recruited wonderfully
upon his journey. He told me he would have written to me, had he
not expected to see me soon. He said, "This country ought to renew
its alliance with Austria, the real advantageous alliance for the rival
of France. Great Britain and Austria," said he, "are like two lovers
who have quarrelled. Both wish to make it up. But neither will make
the first advance." He insisted on my dining with him, ill dressed as
I was.
I left him a little to go and look at the company going to and
coming from Court, to please my monarchical genius. I met the
worthy Duke of Queensberry in his chair in St, James's Street. He
made his chairmen set him down, and shook hands with me cordially.
I told him of Paoli's arrival, and asked him if he would not go and see
him. He said he should be very happy. "But where," said he, "and
how shall I find him?" "Just now," said I, "my Lord. Follow me,
chairmen." So I just walked back to his lodgings, and introduced the
Duke. His Grace seemed much struck. He said, "Je rencontrais mon
ami> Monsieur Boswell, II vous dira combien j'ai ete interesse pour
vous." 8 The General behaved with the utmost ease and politeness.
I sat by with joy in my heart and a cheerful smile on my countenance
to see my illustrious friend and the worthy Duke together.
Paoli's lodgings were in the house where the Duchess of Douglas
had lived. They were the most magnificent, I suppose, to be hired in
all London. I dined with Paoli; Count Gentili and Abbe Guelfucci
were with us. I felt myself just as when at Sollacaro. 9 As I hardly
hoped to meet Paoli in this world again, I had a curious imagination
as if I had passed through death and was really in Elysium. This idea
made me not afraid of actual death, of which I think so often, just
as my grandfather Mr. James Boswell did. I was filled with admira-
tion whenever the General spoke. I said that after every sentence
spoken by him I felt an inclination to sing Te Deum. Indeed, when he
8 "I met my friend, Mr. Boswell. He will tell you how interested I have been in
your cause."
9 The Corsican town where Boswell had visited Paoli.
London^ 22 September 1769 303
speaks it is a triumph to human nature and to my friendship. He said
the Russian fleet was moving up the Mediterranean like the mother
of Proserpine, with a torch in each hand to kindle a fire all the way
she advanced. (I might say it of a fleet. But, as we say she of a single
ship, why not say so also of a large fleet?) He said he believed that
in a course of years, perhaps moral events would be calculated just
as physical ones are. That, as there is a gradual progress in states,
it might be calculated such a year will be a war, just as we see in the
almanac that there will be an eclipse. I fear this is too curious. Gen-
eral events of a moral nature may be prognosticated. But particular
events depend so much on circumstances for the time of their happen-
ing, that I fancy it cannot be calculated with any precision.
I then went to Dempster's, and finding no letter from my dearest
Peggie, I was really uneasy. I sat down and wrote to her, which did
me good. The General's arrival obliged me to alter my retired, frugal
system. It was my duty to attend upon him, and be genteelly dressed
accordingly. So I ordered a genteel, plain, slate-blue frock suit, and a
full suit of a kind of purple cloth with rich gold buttons, and Mr. Dilly
supplied me with a silver-hilted sword. Paoli said he was sorry he had
not room for me in the house with himself. I could have wished it.
But I did my best, and immediately took very handsome lodgings
within a few doors of his, at a M. Renaud's, an old Swiss, whose wife
kept a milliner's shop. She was a well-behaved, obliging woman. The
Bishop of Peterborough had been her lodger many years. Indeed the
apartments were excellent. I had a large dining-room with three
windows to Old Bond Street, a bedchamber, and a dressing-room,
both looking into Burlington Gardens. So that I saw a pretty large
extent of green ground and stately trees in the very centre of the
court end of the town,
I took a coach to Carey Street about eleven. Mrs. Careless was in
bed with her husband, whom I had never seen. Phoebe called her up.
She seemed amazed when she heard that I was to leave my lodgings
in her house after sleeping there only one night. And I dare say she
had a shrewd suspicion that I was about no good, when I shifted so
suddenly. It looked somewhat like a highwayman. However, I told
her the reason of it, paid her five and twenty shillings, the whole
week's money^ and left my new address. And thus did I quit Sans
304 London, 22 September 1769
Souci, though it sounded like the seat of the King of Prussia, and the
maid Phoebe, though a song in The Spectator says:
My time, ye Muses, was happily spent,
When Phoebe went with me wherever I went. 1
Such nonsense. But I may now and then play myself with ideas. I
paid for my apartments in Old Bond Street a guinea and a half a week,
only the half of what they bring in winter. I found there a pretty
little Yorkshire maid called Mary. I determined however to get a
servant who could speak Italian. It seemed pleasant thus to move from
lodging to lodging.
SATURDAY 23 SEPTEMBER. I went this morning and sat for
above an hour to Mr. Miller, who was engraving a print of me in
the Corsican dress; and while I am sitting to him, I may bring in a bit
of Journal omitted, I think, on Thursday. I called on Dr. Armstrong,
whom I found as worthy, as lively in his way, and as splenetic as ever.
He is a violent Scotsman. He said the only advantage the English had
over us was the recitative, the tone of speaking. He said Drummond
of Hawthornden's verses were equal to Waller's, and that the style
of his History was excellent. He owned indeed he had never read it
through, which led me to talk of the little which most people read.
I said I had read very little. He owned to me he had never read Virgil
through. "Nay," said I, "that is too much."
I dined this Saturday at Captain Clunie's, the strange mortal
whom I have mentioned as dining at Mr. Dilly's, Mr, Sheridan, Dr.
Dawson, and Mr. Charles Dilly were there. Clunie was more moderate
this day. He had lost a great part of his fortune, but had spirits and
projects to make him not mind it. The conversation turned on Admiral
Byng 2 and some such old topics, which, like old brass candlesticks, re-
quired a great deal of scouring to make them fit to be presented to
company. Sheridan, Dr. Dawson, and I drank coffee at Dilly's. I then
called at Dempster's, and found an agreeable letter from Margaret,
which cheered me. I know not how the evening passed. I had called
1 No. 603; John Byrom's pastoral, Colin and Phoebe.
2 Byng's fleet had been defeated by the French off Minorca in 1755. Accused
and found guilty of misconduct, he was shot in 1757. His execution prompted
Voltaire's famous remark in Candida that in England it is thought good to
execute an admiral from time to time "to encourage the others."
London, 23 September 1769 305
at the General's in the morning and he was not up, and when I called
at night he was gone to bed.
SUNDAY 24 SEPTEMBER. I breakfasted with Mr. Forbes. He
thought me much better, and so gave me spirits. I then waited on
Paoli. Frederick, natural son to King Theodore, was with him. 3 He
seemed to be a low-lifed being, though well dressed. He was explain-
ing to the General a court calendar with the names of all the principal
officers in Great Britain. Sir Edward Hawke drew his Excellency's
attention, as having been the admiral on whom the fate of this nation
once depended; and also as he had last winter strongly opposed
Great Britain's assisting Corsica, by which he had done an essential
service to France, which has now that Island. Frederick, pointing out
Hawke, said, "E quello che ha battuto i francesi" (It is he who beat
the French). The General answered, "Non, e quello che non ha
battuto i francesi" (It is he who did not beat the French) , meaning in
not preventing them from obtaining Corsica.
I went to the Temple Church. Dr. Morell preached on this text:
"Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels." 4 1 dined at Dr.
Campbell's. He had with him a Dr. Archer, much like one of Sir John
Douglas's family in appearance, and a mild, genteel man in his be-
haviour; and a Mr. Briscoe, who belonged to some of the public offices,
a very well-dressed young man, who spoke with wonderful keenness
without any meaning, or such as every human being had without his
speaking. Last time I was with Dr. Campbell, he told me that he was
beginning to agree with Mr. Johnson about the colonists. "Sir," said
Johnson, "they are a parcel of convicts, and if they get anything short
of hanging they ought to be content." The Doctor entertains very
hospitably. His wife is a notable woman, 5 and his son is all the chil-
dren he has that I know of, except a daughter married in Scotland.
3 Theodore, Baron von Neuhoff, was a Westphalian adventurer who in 1736
persuaded the Corsicans to proclaim him King, on the strength of the promises
of support he said he could procure. Not long afterwards he fled from Corsica and
died in a London debtor's prison in 1756. Frederick was probably an impostor.
4 Psalms 8. 5.
5 She was supposed to have been a printer's devil before marriage. Johnson once
described her in company as having "a bottom of good sense," and when he
observed that "bottom" provoked tittering and laughing, sternly continued: "I
say the woman was fundamentally sensible" (Life of Johnson^ 20 April 1781)*
306 London, 24 September 1769
The Doctor seemed very fond of me. He said, "I look upon it as one of
the white days of my life that brought you here." I stayed a long time
here.
I then called for the General. He was just gone to bed. But he de-
sired that I would walk up. I was afraid to see him in bed, lest it might
lessen his dignity and diminish my grand idea of him. But it had no
such effect. Though his hands and arms were under the clothes and he
showed his countenance only, he appeared with superior lustre. His
eyes alone expressed the vivacity of his mind. He talked of the political
heats of this country and of his own incertain situation with ease and
cheerful manliness.
MONDAY 25 SEPTEMBER, While I was sitting at breakfast, I
was agreeably surprised with the arrival of Mr. George Frazer, who
was just returned with his wife and daughter, with whom he had been
in France on a visit to his son Andrew, the commissary at Dunkirk.
As Andrew is a great engineer, I borrowed a simile from his art to
make his father eat a hearty breakfast. "You must consider, Sir," said
I, u that a breakfast in London is a fortification which is to stand the
attack of so many hours till dinner comes to its relief. It never can
hold out unless it have a proper degree of strength. So you must make
ravelins of muffins, and other works accordingly."
The General carried me, Mr. Burnaby, and the Abbe Guelfucci
an airing in his coach. A crowd followed him in the streets. He
graciously smiled and bowed, while they paid him what honours
they could. We drove to Putney and then down the river, and re-
turned by Westminster Bridge. It was a delightful day^ and the
country round London appeared to great advantage. He was charmed
with it. He seemed to be an accurate observer of the beauties of nature.
After we returned, I called on Mr. Burnaby Greene, a gentleman of
fine fortune, author of Corsica, an Ode, in which he has paid rne a
very genteel compliment. Talking of the influence of truth in Corsica,
he says,
And grace a classic isle with Boswells of her own. 6
I found him a genteel man about thirty, very polite and eas^. He had
translated Anacreon. He said there was something peculiar in the
style of that poet which would always distinguish his compositions.
6 Boswell reviewed the poem in The London Chronicle for 31 October, and
quoted the passage in which this line occurs.
London, 25 September 1769 307
I dined at Paoli's. He had a good table, having dinner at a crown
a head from the Brawn's Head Tavern in Bond Street. Mr. Sheridan
had expressed the strongest desire to see the General. I obtained leave,
and in the evening introduced him. He was exceedingly struck, and
although he spoke French very ill and understood little or no Italian,
I contrived to have some conversation kept up between the General
and him. Paoli, being informed by me of Mr. Sheridan's study of
language, entered immediately on that subject. He said a great
language, or a noble language, was a language in which great men
have written; for it is by being moulded and animated by superior
souls that a language becomes superior. He told us he had said to the
Emperor 7 that he would either ruin or aggrandize the House of
Austria. His opinion was that the latter would be the case. "Consider,"
said he, "a young man, very hardy, very enterprising, with the true
spirit of a soldier, at the head of 250,000 troops including hussars and
other irregulars, and consider the state of Europe by and by: France
under a minority; Spain having an idiot for her king; the King of
Prussia sunk into the dotage of old age, or succeeded by a very weak
prince." This was well drawn. It is disagreeable to think he might
have added, ''Great Britain deprived of her colonies, and her trade
gone."
After Mr. Sheridan went away, I sat with the General and gave
him a lesson on the English language by reading newspapers with
him. He and I reclined upon a couch, and his vivacity, nobleness of
thought, and engaging manners raised my ideas and made me truly
happy. I then told him how the thoughts of my father's marrying
again had agitated me, and from that I introduced an account of my
dearest spouse's generous behaviour. In a cursory way, he seemed to
approve my warm resentment of my father's conduct. But we soon
passed from it to the beautiful subject of Miss Montgomerie. I took
out her most valuable letter. Paoli read it, and translated it with
elegant spirit into Italian. "Free of ambition, I prefer real happiness
to the splendid appearance of it," struck him much. He read it over
again and again, and repeated it, saying, "Questo e sublime" (this is
sublime) . He with much cordiality wished me all happiness. This
was a rich evening.
7 Joseph II, son of Maria Theresa, He was twenty-eight at this time.
308 London, 26 September 1769
TUESDAY 26 SEPTEMBER. Mr. and Mrs. and Miss Frazer, hav-
ing come from the country somewhere, took an early breakfast with
me. Edinburgh ideas and sounds afforded a variety to me in the
midst of London. I took this visit very kind, and I was a plain, hos-
pitable, hearty landlord for tea and bread and butter. After they were
gone, Mr. Burnaby came and breakfasted with me at the usual hour.
His closeness and most anxious concern to observe the strictest pro-
priety in every trifle diverted me not a little. I could see that the
Ministry had employed him to consult with respect to Paoli; and that
this, joined with his natural disposition, produced the behaviour
which appeared to me so curious. He seemed, however, to be a man
of worth, knowledge, and good understanding. I sat at home and
wrote this my Journal all the forenoon. I was cairn and cheerful from
living with perfect sobriety. I dined with Dr. . . .
[EDITORIAL NOTE. Here the Journal stops. Had Boswell contirmed.,
the next word would have been "Goldsmith"; it was at this dinner
that he first met Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was to be his loyal and
affectionate friend for more than twenty years. The remainder of
Bos well's stay in London is covered by two overlapping series of
Journal Notes and Memoranda, which are interwoven here with
passages from the manuscript of The Life of Johnson and letters.]
TUESDAY 26 SEPTEMBER .... Dined Dr. Goldsmith's. Mark
company. Colnian said Sir John Vanbrugh our best comic writer. His
wit flows; Congreve's, in artificial jet d'eaus. Congreve's may apply
anyhow, Vanbrugh's in character. Sir John Brute's admirable. 8
Chambers maintained him architect of much fancy. Dispute as to
Garrick's vanity. Baretti said he wondered he was not more vain.
GOLDSMITH. "How can he more, unless j he wears] real caps and
bells?" COLMAN. u He is not more vain than others, but has this, that
he must have frequent drams to his vanity." I was happy; looked at
Colman as comic writer to be talked of in future. Full feeling- of
London society of wits. Colnian said yours the truest book.
WEDNESDAY 27 SEPTEMBER. Breakfast, Forbes. Then home,
dressed. Court. The sentries happy. Waited with impatience. Fine to
8 A character in Vazibrugh's Th$ Provoked Wife,
London, 27 September 1769 309
see presentation, Paoli and King of Britain. 9 Hervey told me King said
[Paoli had] the most sensible and spirited countenance, . . .
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie] *
[London, ?2 October 1769]
. . . LORD LYTTELTON'S LETTER ABOUT YOU. It never entered into
my head. 2 I am going to write to my father tonight. I shall not take
any notice of having heard that he was angry. I shall write to him in
my usual style. But you may depend upon it, I never will make him
any apology for warning him of what he is to expect. It is lucky I
have contrived to enjoy so much of the estate of Auchinleck while I
was abroad. By what I can see, I shall have little more of it. I am
obliged to Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame for her kindness. But still
I heartily wish she would not interfere. If she writes to me, I will tell
her so again. I hate absurd consultations. Soften my father! What
nonsense would it appear to any rational being who does not know
9 Boswell repeated an anecdote of this meeting in a letter to Sir Alexander Dick.
"The King said, T have read Boswell's book, which is well written (scritto con
spirito). May I depend upon it as an authentic account?' The General answered,
'Your Majesty may be assured that everything in that book is true, except the
compliments which Mr. Boswell has been pleased to pay to his friend' " (Letters
of James Boswell, i. 1 74) . The original of this letter is in the Manuscript Divi-
sion: Miscellaneous Papers (Boswell, James) of the New York Public Library.
1 A fragment, probably lacking at least four pages at the beginning. The Notes
for what appear to be this letter survive, dated 2 October: "Letter to M. Explain
to her your keen feelings, and say SHE has no reason to be uneasy if having
her friend invariably attached be enough. Say you must take time to recover
yourself after her unhappy letters, that she should have recollected into what a
fever I was formerly thrown. That Father seems a selfish and realty a bad man."
After having persuaded himself that the scheme was given up. Boswell seems to
have heard that his father intended to marry a second time, and wrote to him
"in very strong terms" (Boswell to John Johnston, 16 October 1769). Lord
Auchinleck was very angry, but communicated his wrath to the blameless Miss
Montgomerie, not to his son. It may have been, however, in response to this
letter that Lord Auchinleck said, "James, my estate is not entailed" (John
Ramsay, Scotland and Scotsmen, i. 173).
2 What never entered his head is not clear. Lord Lyttelton had written Boswell
a note of congratulation on hearing of his approaching marriage, but there ap-
pears to be nothing in it that should have offended Lord Auchinleck.
3io London, 2 October 1769
him, should he be told what are the offences for which it is necessary
to plead as if a man had been upon the highway! Mr. Johnson settled
my mind fully this afternoon as to my father. "Sir," said he, "the dis-
putes between you and him are matters of sensation not of judgment.
So it is in vain to reason with him. He grumbles because you come
to London. He cannot understand why it is very right you should
from time to time enjoy London. There is no help for it. Let him
grumble."
Mr. Johnson is of opinion that when a man marries and becomes
the head of a family, he ought to have his own house, and cannot
possibly be happy under his father's roof, more especially if circum-
stances are such, from temper or anything else, that a man and his
father cannot live well together even while the son is unmarried. He
advises me strongly to have my own house. He says my father will
treat you and me much better when we have our own home and
leave him at night. As to my father's marrying again, he thinks it had
much better not happen. But he is of opinion that I would be a fool
(there he goes) should I give up with everything and everybody on
that account. His feelings are not such as mine, you see. I am sup-
ported by enthusiasm, and would care little for existence did I not,
like Zoroastre (was it not?), hope for everlasting love* So cannot
bear what I need not repeat. If there is not love, let there be at least
a decent regard. But that vile subject haunts me. Down with it! Mr.
Johnson says that if you and I live near my father and are often with
him, it will be as effectual in preventing his marrying again as living
with him would be. Be not uneasy. I shall do nothing rashly, nor take
any hasty resolutions. I again beg you may just think of me as your
friend and lover. Leave everything else to time. Perhaps I may bring
myself to try to live in Scotland. But in the mean time, I positively in-
sist on your having no intercourse whatever with the infamous
wretch/ I am not for Robert. 5 But I thank you for your attention.
Now, my dear Peggie, be so good as excuse the freedom with which
3 A reference to Andrew Michael Ramsay, Les Voyages de Cyru$> Book 2, end
of the story of Selima: 'Those who love each other purely will love thus forever;
true love is immortal."
4 Probably Elizabeth Boswell, the prospective second Lady Auchinleck,
5 Someone whom she had suggested as a servant?
London, 2 October 1769 311
I have written. You may be certain that you see the worst of me; and
I can assure you beforehand that no paragraph in any of my letters,
or insinuation of my father's, ought to make you unhappy. I have
erased from your letter the sentence which shocked me more than I
can express. "Good God," said I, "is this her idea of love? Let me re-
turn to abandoned profligacy." So mad did you make me. 6 Adieu, my
dearest. Ever yours,
IB.
("Manuscript of The Life of Johnson]
On the 30 September we 7 dined together at the Mitre. I attempted
to argue for the superior happiness of the savage life, upon the usual
fanciful topics. He said, "Sir, there can be nothing more false. The
savages have no bodily advantages beyond those of civilized men.
They have not better health; and as to care or mental uneasiness they
are not above it but below it, like bears. No, Sir, you are not to talk
such paradox; let me have no more on't. It cannot entertain, it can-
not instruct. Lord Monboddo, one of your Scotch judges, talked a great
deal of such nonsense. I suffered him, but I will not suffer you."
BOSWELL, "But, Sir, does not Rousseau talk such nonsense?" JOHNSON.
"True, Sir, but Rousseau knows he is talking nonsense, and laughs at
the world for staring at him." BOSWELL. "How so, Sir?" JOHNSON.
"Why, Sir, a man who talks nonsense so well must know that he is
talking nonsense. But I am afraid (chuckling and laughing) Mon-
boddo does not know that he is talking nonsense." BOSWELL. "Is it
wrong then, Sir, to affect singularity in order to make people stare?" 8
JOHNSON, "Yes, if you do it by propagating error; and, indeed, it is
wrong in every way. There is in human nature a general inclination
to make people stare, and every wise man has himself to cure of it,
and does cure himself. If you wish to make people stare by doing better
than others, why, make them stare till they stare their eyes out. But
consider how easy it is to make people stare by being absurd. I may do
it by going into a drawing-room without ray shoes. You remember
Miss Montgomerie's shocking observation, so far as one can gather, amounted
to no more than that she found nothing repugnant in second marriages,
7 Johnson and BoswelL
8 Perhaps Boswell was thinking of his masquerade appearance at the Jubilee.
312 London, 30 September 1769
the gentleman in The Spectator who had a commission of lunacy
taken out against him for his extreme singularity, such as never wear-
ing a wig but a nightcap. Now, Sir, abstractly the nightcap was
best; but relatively the advantage was overbalanced by his making
the boys run after him." 9
Talking of a London life 1 he said, "The happiness of London is not
to be conceived but by those who have been in it. I will venture to say
there is more learning and science within the circumference of ten
miles from where we now sit than in all the rest of the kingdom."
BOSWELL. "The only disadvantage is the great distance at which
people live from one another." JOHNSON. "Yes, Sir, but that is
occasioned by the largeness of it, which is the cause of all the other
advantages." 2 BOSWELL. "Sometimes I have been in the humour of
wishing to retire to a desert." JOHNSON. "Sir, you have desert enough
in Scotland."
Although I had proposed to myself a great deal of good conver-
sation from him on the conduct of the married state, of which I had
then a near prospect, he did not say much upon that topic. . . .
When I found fault with a gentleman of my acquaintance for
entering into a second marriage, 3 as it showed a disregard of his first
wife, he said, "Not at all, Sir. On the contrary, were he never to marry
again, it might be concluded that his first wife had made him heartily
sick of marriage; but by taking a second wife he pays the highest
compliment to the first, by proving that she made him so happy as
a married man that he has a mind to be so a second time. "...
We drank tea with Mrs. Williams. I had last year had the pleasure
of seeing Mrs. Thrale at Dr. Johnson's for a short while in a morning,
and had conversation enough with her to admire her talents and to
show her that I was as Johnsonian as herself. Dr. Johnson had prob-
9 Johnson is recalling, somewhat inaccurately, Spectator, No. 576.
1 As the Notes show, Boswell raised this topic by asking how Johnson could
describe life when he had lived in Oxford and the Temple rather than in the
world (see entry for 31 August 1769). Johnson replied, "Sir, I was in [the]
world," and went on to say that one could "live and appear genteel" in London
on 30 a year (see Life, under 1737).
2 The Notes add: "BOSWELL. 'Is it not hurtful?' JOHNSON. *No, Sir, health [is] as
good [here as elsewhere] .' "
3 Lord Auchinleck, of course.
London, 30 September 1769 313
ably praised me, for this evening he delivered me the following card
from Mr. Thrale and his Thralia dulcis* in the fair handwriting of
that lady. I preserve it as my first ticket to a great deal of most agree-
able society: "Mr. and Mrs. Thrale present their best compliments to
Mr. Boswell, and should think themselves highly favoured in his
company to dinner at Streatham."
On the 6 of October I complied with this obliging invitation,
and found, at a charming villa six miles from town, every circum-
stance that can make society valuable. Johnson, though quite at home,
was yet looked up to with an awe tempered by affection., and seemed
to be equally venerated by his host and hostess in their different ways.
I rejoiced at seeing him so happy.
He played off his wit against Scotland with a good-humoured
pleasantry, as giving me, though no bigot to national prejudices, an
opportunity for a little contest with him. I having said that England
was obliged to us for gardeners, almost all their good gardeners being
Scotchmen; JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, that is because gardening is
much more necessary amongst you than with us, which makes so
many of your people learn it. It is all gardening with you. Things
which grow wild here must be cultivated with great care in Scotland.
Pray now (throwing himself back in his chair and laughing), are
you ever able to bring the doe to perfection?"
I boasted that wo had the honour of being the first to abolish the
unhospitablc and troublesome and ungracious custom of giving vails
to servants. JOHNSON. "Sir, you abolished vails because you were too
poor to be able to give them."
Mrs, Thrale disputed with him on the merit of Prior. He attacked
him, powerfully; said he wrote of love like a roan who had never felt
it. His love verses were college verses, and he repeated the song,
"Alexis shunned his fellows swains," so ludicrously, that he made
us laugh very heartily and wonder how anybody could have been
seriously pleased with such fantastical stuff. Mrs. Thi^ale stood to her
guns with great courage in defence of amorous ditties which Johnson
despised, till ho at last silenced her by saying, "My dear lady, talk
no more of this. Nonsense can be defended but by nonsense."
4 So Johnson had called Mrs. Thrale in a Latin ode to her, written on his tour
to the Hebrides with Boswcll in 1773.
314 Streatham, 6 October 1 769
Mrs. Thrale then praised Garrick's talent for light, gay, lively
poetry^ and, as a specimen, repeated his song in Florizel and Perdita,
and dwelt with peculiar pleasure on this line:
I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.
JOHNSON. "Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor David! Smile
with the simple! What folly is that! And who would feed with the
poor that can help it? No, no, let me smile with the wise, and feed
with the rich." I repeated this sally to Garrick, and wondered to find
his sensibility as a writer much irritated by it. To console him, I ob-
served that Johnson at times spared none of his friends; and I quoted
the passage in Horace, foenum habet in cornu, where he represents
one who attacks his friends for the sake of a laugh to be avoided as a
pushing ox that is marked by a bunch of hay put upon his horns.
"Ay," said Garrick vehemently, "he has a whole mow of it."
Talking of history Johnson said, u We may know historical facts to
be true, as we may know facts in common life to be true. Motives are
generally uncertain. We cannot trust to the characters which we find
in history, unless when they are drawn by those who knew the per-
sons: as those, for instance, by Sallust or by Lord Clarendon."
He would not allow much merit to Whitefield's oratory. "His
popularity, Sir," said he, "is chiefly owing to the strangeness of his
manner. He would be followed by crowds were he to wear a nightcap
in the pulpit, or were he to preach from a tree."
I know not from what spirit of contradiction he burst out into a
violent declamation against the Corsicans, of whose heroism I talked
in high terms. "Sir," said he, "what is all this rout about the Corsi-
cans? They have been at war with the Genoese for upwards of twenty
years, and have never yet taken their foxtified towns. They might
have battered down the walls and reduced them to powder in twenty
years. They might have pulled the walls in, pieces., and cracked the
stones with their teeth in twenty years." It was in vain to argue with
him upon the want of artillery: his powerful imagination was not to
be resisted for the moment.
On the evening of the 10 October, I presented Dr. Johnson to
General Paoli. 5 1 had greatly wished that two men for whom I had
5 This appears to be a mistake. Boswell makes no mention in the Memorandum
London, 10 October 1769 315
the highest value should meet. They met with a manly ease, mutually
conscious of their own abilities and of the abilities one of each other.
The General spoke Italian and Dr. Johnson English, and understood
one another very well with a little aid of interpretation from me, in
which I compared myself to an isthmus which joins two great con-
tinents. Upon Johnson's entering the room the General said, "From
what I have read of your works, Sir, and from what Mr. Boswell
has told me of you, I have long had you in great esteem and venera-
tion." The General talked of language being formed on the particular
ideas and manners of a country, without knowing which we cannot
know the language. We may know the direct signification of single
words, but by these no beauty of expression, no sally of genius, no
wit is conveyed to the mind. All this must be by allusion to other ideas.
"Sir," said Johnson, "you talk of language as if you had never done
anything else but study it, instead of governing a nation." The Gen-
eral said, "Questo e un troppo gran compliment '-o" (this is too great
a compliment) . Johnson answered, "I should have thought so, Sir, if I
had not heard you talk." The General asked him what he thought of
the spirit of infidelity which was so prevalent. JOHNSON. "Sir, this
gloom of infidelity, 1 hope, is only a transient cloud passing through
the hemisphere which will soon be dissipated and the sun break forth
with his usual splendour." "You think then," said the General, "that
they will change their principles like their clothes." JOHNSON. "Why,
Sir, if they bestow no more thought on principles than on dress, it
must be so." The General said that "a great part of the fashionable
infidelity was owing to a desire of showing courage. Men who have
no opportunities of showing it in real life take death and futurity as
objects on which to display it." JOHNSON. "That is mighty foolish
affectation. Fear is one of the passions of human nature, of which it is
impossible to divest it. You remember that the Emperor Charles V,
when he read upon the tombstone of a Spanish nobleman, 'Here lies
one who never knew fear,' wittily said, 'Then he has never snuffed a
candle with his fingers.' "
He talked a few words of French to the General, but finding he did
covering this day that he had brought Paoli and Johnson together, and The
London Chronicle (2 November 1769) declared that Boswell introduced Johnson
to Paoli on 31 October*
31 6 London, 10 October 1769
not do it with facility, he asked for pen, ink, and paper, and wrote
the following note: 6
"I have read in the geography of Lucas de Linda a Pater Noster
written in a language completely different from Italian and from all
others which derive from Latin. The author calls it linguam Corsicae
rusticam. It has perhaps been extinguished little by little, but it
certainly once prevailed in the mountains and in the country. The
same author says the same thing in talking of Sardinia: that there are
two languages in the island, one of the cities, the other of the country."
The General immediately informed him that the lingua rustica
was only in Sardinia,
Dr. Johnson went home with me, and drank tea till late in the
night. He said General Paoli had the loftiest port of any man he had
ever seen. He denied that military men were in general the most
genteel, for "Perfect good breeding," he observed, "consists in having
no particular mark of any profession, but a general elegant smooth-
ness of manners; whereas in a military man you can commonly distin-
guish the marks of a soldier, Vhomme d*epee."
He shunned tonight any discussion of the perplexed question
of fate and free will, which I attempted to agitate: "Sir," said he, "we
know our will is free, and there's an end on't."
SATURDAY 14 OCTOBER. Yesterday I breakfasted with Tom
King, genteel, easy, and lively. Said he loved and respected Sheridan,
but that he was mad on oratory and would persuade you that a man
could not be a good gingerbread baker without it. Then Davies's a
little. Heard from him that all Baretti's friends had been to see him,
so you called at Newgate. But he was bailed. Then to Poultry; met
Dilly and Baldwin and Rivington, and settled London Magazine. 7
Then Cleland; curious figure. Thought how 'twould have struck you
some years ago. . . 8
G In French, which Boswell prints.
7 Boswell became a part proprietor in the magazine, buying probably a one-
fifth or sixth share. Later he published his Hypochondriack essays iri it.
8 John Cleland, whose Fanny Hill, or, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, has
often been called the most obscene book in English literature, though there is
not a dirty word in it,
London, 15 October 1769 317
SUNDAY 15 OCTOBER. Yesterday breakfast, Forbes. He saw
that incision was to be performed. Then strolled about. Called Ken-
nedy; he frightened you. But no matter. Dined Charles Boswell, very
well. Told him of Father's scheme. He said it amazed him. Said I,
"One would have laid one hundred to one against it." "One hundred,"
said he; "ten thousand. I should have thought the chance was not upon
the dice. It is enough to give one misanthropical ideas. Ay, to see what
we may come to. I prof ess I am afraid to live till sixty." . . .
MONDAY 16 OCTOBER. Yesterday morning Duncan Forbes
came, and with kindness to save dire forebodings cut, . . . Then
called Kennedy; nonsense. Then Pott; sensible, neat, and fine. 9 . . .
Journal all evening.
[Manuscript of The Life of Johnson']
He 1 honoured me with his company at dinner on the 16 of
October at my lodgings in Old Bond Street, with Sir Joshua Reynolds,
Mr. Garrick, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Murphy, Mr. Bickerstaff, and Mr.
Thomas Davies. Garrick played round him with a fond vivacity,
taking hold of the breasts of his coat, and, looking up in his face with a
lively archness., talking how well he now was; while the Sage, shaking
his head, beheld him with a gentle complacency. One of the company
was late, in coming. I started the usual question upon such occasions
if I should not order dinner to be served, and said, U 0ught six people
to be kept waiting for one?" "Why, yes," answered Johnson, "if the
one will suffer more by your sitting down than the six will do by
waiting." There was a delicate humanity in this observation. Gold-
smith, to divert the tedious minutes, strutted about bragging of his
dress, and I believe was seriously vain of it, for his mind was wonder-
fully prone to that passion. "Come, come," said Garrick, "talk no
more of that. You are, perhaps, the worst eh, eh!" Goldsmith was
Boswell wrote to John Johnston on 16 October: "My illness has taken various
turns. At last I see a prospect of being soon perfectly well, and you may believe
1 am very much relieved, for I have been under sad anxiety. The knife has been
absolutely necessary, and you know I am a very bad bearer of pain. However,
the thoughts of being made well once for all cannot fail to cheer me." Dr. Harry
Roil suggests that the incision was probably made to relieve a paraphimosis,
though it is possible that some form of local infection was in question.
1 Johnson.
31 8 London, 16 October 1769
eagerly breaking In, when Garrick went on, laughing ironically,
"Nay, you will always look like a gentleman, but I am talking of
being well or ill dressed" "Well, let me tell you," said Goldsmith,
"when my tailor brought home my bloom-coloured coat, he said, 'Sir,
1 have a favour to beg of you. When anybody asks you who made your
clothes, say John Filby at the Harrow in Water Lane.' " JOHNSON.
"Why, Sir, that was because he knew the strange colour would at-
tract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him and see
how well he might make a coat even of so absurd a colour."
When we were set down 2 our conversation first turned upon Pope.
Johnson said his characters of men were admirably drawn, those of
women not so well. He repeated to us, in his forcible, melodious
manner, the character of Moore 3 and the concluding lines of The
Dunciad. While the company were loud in praise of the lines, I
ventured to say, "Too fine for such a poem: a poem on what?" JOHN-
SON (with a disdainful look), "Why, on dunces. It was worth while
being a dunce then. Ah, Sir, hadst thou lived in those days! It is not
worth while being a dunce now, when there are no wits." Bickerstaff
observed, as a peculiar circumstance, that Pope's fame was higher
when he was alive than now. Johnson said his Pastorals were poor
things, though the versification was fine. He told us with high satis-
faction the anecdote of Pope's inquiring who was the author of
London, a Satire, and saying, he will be soon deterred He said that
in Dry den's poetry there were passages drawn from a profundity
which Pope could never reach. He repeated his lines on love (gentle,
tempestuous, &c.; look for them)* and gave great applause to the
character of Zimri. Goldsmith said that Pope's character of Addison
was drawn deep from feeling and knowledge of the human heart.
Johnson said that the description of the temple in The Mourning
Bride was the finest poetical passage he had ever read; he recollected
none in Shakespeare equal to it "But," said Garrick (all alarmed for
"the god of his idolatry"), 6 "we know not the extent and variety of
2 "After dinner" according to the printed version of the Life,
3 Probably the lines on James Moore Smythe (Dunciad, ii. 35-50).
4 Unearthed. London was Johnson's first major poem,
5 The parenthesis in the printed Life reads, "which I have now forgotten." The
lines in question are probably those from Tyrannic Love which Johnson later
quoted in his Life of Dry den.
6 See Romeo and Juliet, II. ii. HA.
London., 16 October 1769 319
his powers. We are to suppose there are such passages in his works.
Shakespeare must not suffer from the badness of our memories."
Johnson, diverted by this enthusiastic jealousy, went on with greater
keenness: "No, Sir. Congreve has nature" (smiling on the tragic
eagerness of Garrick) ; but composing himself he added, "Sir, this is
not comparing Congreve on the whole with Shakespeare on the whole,
but only saying that Congreve has one finer passage than any that
can be found in Shakespeare. Sir, a man may have no more than ten
guineas in the world, but he may have those ten guineas in one piece;
and so may have a finer piece than a man who has ten thousand
pounds: but then he has but one ten-guinea piece. What I mean is
that you can show me no passage equal to this where moral ideas are
not mingled and there is simply a description of material objects,
which produces such an effect." Mr. Murphy mentioned Shakes-
peare's description of the night before the Battle of Agincourt, but it
was observed it had men in it. Mr. Davies suggested the speech of
Juliet imaging what she should feel if she awaked in the tomb. Some-
body mentioned the description of Dover Cliff. JOHNSON. "No, Sir, it
should be all precipice all vacuum. The crows impede your fall.
The diminished appearance of the boats and the other circumstances
may be all very good description, but do not at once affect the mind
with the horrible idea of immense highth. The impression is divided;
you pass on by computation from one stage of the tremendous space to
another. Had the girl in The Mourning Bride said she could not cast
her shoe to the top of one of the pillars in the temple, it would not
have aided the idea, but on the contrary weakened it,"
Talking of a barrister who had a bad utterance, some one (to
rouse Johnson) wickedly said that it was a loss to him that he had not
been taught oratory by Sheridan. JOHNSON. "Nay, Sir, if he had been
taught by Sheridan he would have cleared the room." GARRICK.
"Sheridan has too much vanity to be a good man." Now mark John-
son's mode of defending a man; taking him into his own hands, and
discriminating. JOHNSON. "No, Sir. There is, to be sure, in Sheridan
something to reprehend, and everything to laugh at; but, Sir, he is
not a bad man. No, Sir, were mankind to be divided into good and bad.,
he would stand considerably within the ranks of good. And, Sir, it
must be allowed that Sheridan excels in plain declamation, but he
can exhibit no character." . . .
320 London, 16 October 1769
Mrs. Montagu, as the author of an Essay on Shakespeare, being
mentioned; REYNOLDS. "I think that Essay does her honour." JOHN-
SON. "Yes, Sir, it does her honour, but it would do nobody else honour,
I have, indeed, not read it all. But when I take up the end of a web
and find it packthread, I do not expect by looking farther to find em-
broidery. Sir, I will venture to say there is not a sentence of true
criticism in it." GARRICK. "But, Sir, surely it shows how much Voltaire
has mistaken the English, which nobody else has done," JOHNSON.
"Sir, nobody else has thought it worth while. But what merit is there
in that? You may as well talk of a schoolmaster whipping a boy for
construing ill. No, Sir^ there is no real criticism in it: none showing
the beauty of thought, as coining from the human heart, from certain
dispositions of the mind." . . .
Johnson went on with his notion of true criticism: "It is what the
Scotchman 7 has attempted in his Elements of Criticism. I don't mean
that he has taught us anything, but he has told us old things in a new
way." MURPHY. "He seems to have read a great deal of French criti-
cism and wants to make it his own, as if he had been for years anato-
mizing the heart of man and peeping into every cranny of it." GOLD-
SMITH. "It is easier to write that book than to read it."jOHNSON. "As
an example of true criticism there is Burke's Essay on the Sublime
and Beautiful; and, if I recollect, there is also Du Bos and Bouhours,
who shows all beauty to depend on truth. There is no great merit in
telling how many plays have ghosts in them, and how this ghost is
better than that. You must show how terror is impressed on the
human heart. In the description of night in Macbeth, the beetle and
the bat detract from the general idea of darkness inspissated
gloom."
Politics being mentioned he said, "This petitioning is a new mode
of distressing government, arid a mighty easy one. I will undertake
to get petitions either against quarter-guineas or half-guineas with
the help of a little hot wine. There must be no yielding to encourage
this. The object is not important enough. We are not to blow up half
a dozen palaces because one cottage is burning."
The conversation then took another turn. JOHNSON. "It is amazing
what ignorance of certain points one sometimes finds in men of
7 Lord Kames.
London, 16 October 1769 321
eminence. A wit about town, who wrote Latin bawdy verses, asked
me how England and Scotland, which were once two kingdoms, were
now one; and a great barrister 8 did not seem to know that there were
such publications as the Reviews.
"The ballad of Hardyknute is nothing extraordinary if it be really
ancient. 9 People talk much of nature. But mere obvious nature may
be shown with very little power of mind,"
TUESDAY 17 OCTOBER. Donaldson the painter breakfasted with
you; continued your miniature. He had fallen into the absurd practice
of sneering at what is universally established: Pope, &c. Poor being
then ; so made him use hands and eyes only.
Called Mr. Johnson. 1 Talked of suicide^ if a crime. He said, "Yes.
Thought so by all Christians. Saul forsaken of God. Cut off leg to
preserve life." BOSWELL. "But may it not be done to save many lives,
if you can't bear torture and would discover?" JOHNSON. "Why, Sir,
there's no end of arguing on improbable suppositions. And after all,
you do not make out that what you allow is not vicious. Only this,
that in a supposablc case, a smaller vice is to be chosen rather than a
greater." I instanced Turenne. 2 BOSWELL. "If you promise to a high-
wayman 100, should you keep it?" JOHNSON. "Why, yes. It is bind-
ing not as an obligation with respect to the highwayman but with re-
spect to society, which has an interest that promises be kept and men
do not explain them away." BOSWELL. "But, Sir, if 10,000?" JOHN-
SON. "Why, then, Sir, a man is to balance the circumstances. If him-
self alone concerned, 'tis binding," BOSWELL. "But he has perhaps a
wife and family." JOHNSON. u Why, then, their claim in justice may
be preferable. But, Sir, that kind of casuistical reasoning is veiy per-
* Sir Fletcher Norton.
^Hardyknute was published in 1719 as an ancient poem, but is generally be-
1 loved to have been the composition of Lady Wardlaw of Pitreavie, who died
in 1727, Percy, who had introduced the poem in the famous Reliques (1765),
Had cast doubt on its antiquity.
1 The following conversation between Boswell and Johnson was overlooked
when Boswell was writing the Life, and is printed here for the first time,
2 The person instanced is undoubtedly the great seventeenth-century French
general, the Vicomte de Turenne, but just what lie is brought in to illustrate is
not clear.
322 London, 17 October 1769
nicious. Rules cannot be given for improbable cases. One must judge
when they happen. There may be with the temptation a way to es-
cape not allowable but on necessity. Y'are not to stand forth and do
wrong for good. Otherwise, there'd be no security, as the man who
acts judges of the good." Dined London Tavern, &c. . . . Then Jubi-
lee in Drury Lane. 3
[Manuscript of The Life of Johnson]
On Thursday 19 October, I had a long evening with him' at his
house by ourselves. He advised me to complete a Dictionary of words
peculiar to Scotland, of which I showed him a specimen. "Sir," said
he, "Ray has made a collection of North Country words. By collecting
those of your country, you will do a useful thing towards the history
of the language." He bade me also go on with collections which I was
making upon the antiquities of Scotland. "Make a large book, a
folio." BOSWELL. "But of what use will it be, Sir?" JOHNSON. "Never
mind the use; do it."
I complained that he had never mentioned Garrick in his Preface
to Shakespeare, and asked if he did not admire him. JOHNSON. "Yes,
as c a poor player, who frets and struts his hour upon the stage' as
a shadow." 8 BOSWELL, "But has he not brought Shakespeare into no-
tice?" JOHNSON. "Sir, to allow that would be to lampoon the age.
Many of Shakespeare's plays are the worse for being acted: Macbeth,
for instance." BOSWELL. "What, Sir, with the advantages of decoration
and action? No^ I do wish that you had mentioned Garrick." JOHN-
SON. "My dear Sir, had I mentioned him, I must have mentioned
many more: Mrs. Pritchard, Mrs. Gibber, nay, and Mr. Gibber
too; he too altered Shakespeare." BOSWELL, "You have read his Apol-
ogy, Sir?" JOHNSON. "Yes, it is very entertaining. But as for Gibber
himself, if you took from his conversation all that ho ought; not to
have said, he was a poor creature. He was in earnest with his odes, I
3 Garrick presented a stage version of the vStratford Jubilee as an afterpiece at
the Drury Lane Theatre, in which Boswell saw himself (no doubt to his great
satisfaction) impersonated by an actor. He seems, indeed, to have lent Garrick
his costume so that the impersonation might be more apt
* Johnson.
5 See^Macbeth, V. v, 24-25.
London, 1 9 October 1769 323
remember he brought me one to have my opinion of it, in which was
this stanza:
Perched on the eagle's soaring wing
The lowly linnet loves to sing.
I could not bear such nonsense, and would not let him read his ode
out; so little respect had I for that great man! (laughing). Yet I re-
member Richardson wondering that I could treat him with famil-
iarity."
I mentioned to him that I had seen the execution of several con-
victs at Tyburn two days before, and that none of them seemed to be
under any concern. 6 JOHNSON. "Most of them, Sir, have never thought
at all." BOSWELL. "But is not the fear of death natural to us all?"
JOHNSON. "So much so, Sir, that the whole of life is but keeping away
the thoughts of it." He then, in a low and earnest tone, talked of his
meditating upon the awful hour of his own dissolution, and in what
manner he should behave upon that occasion: "I am uncertain," said
he, "whether I should wish to have a friend by me, or have it all be-
tween God and myself."
Talking of our feeling for the distresses of others: JOHNSON.
"Why, Sir, there is much noise made about it, but it is not true. No,
Sir, you have a decent feeling to prompt you to do good: more than
that Providence does not intend. It would be misery to no purpose."
BOSWELL. "But now if I were in danger of being hanged?" JOHNSON.
"I should do what I could to bail you, but when you were once fairly
hanged I should not suffer for you." BOSWELL. "Would you eat your
dinner that day, Sir?"jOHN\soN, "Yes, Sir, and eat it as if you were
eating it with me. Why, there's Baretti who is to be tried for his life
tomorrow; friends have risen up for him on every side, but if he
should bo hanged, none of those friends will eat a slice of plum pud-
ding the less. Sir, that sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in
depressing the mind,"
The London Chronicle printed Boswell's own report of the incident on 24
October: u As a strong instance of strange curiosity, James Boswell, Esquire, was
observed last Wednesday at Tyburn when six men were executed. And in order
to be as near as possible, where did he sit but on the top of the hearse which
waited to carry away the body of George Low, one of the malefactors. A A man
so various,' <fec."
324 London., 19 October i 769
I told him that I had dined lately at Foote' s, who showed me a let-
ter to him from Tom Davies, telling him that he had not been able to
sleep from the concern which he felt on account of this sad affair of
Baretti, begging of him to think if he could suggest anything that
would be of service to Baretti; and, at the same time, recommending
to him an industrious young man who kept a pickle shop. JOHNSON.
"Ay, Sir, here you have a true specimen of human sympathy: a friend
hanged, or a cucumber pickled. We know not whether Baretti or the
pickle man has kept Davies from sleep, nor does he know himself.
But, Sir, as to his not sleeping, Tom Davies is a very great man; Tom
has been upon the stage, and knows how to do these things. I have
not been upon the stage, and cannot do these things." BOSWELL. "I
have blamed myself for not feeling for others in the keen manner that
others say they do." JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, don't be duped by them any
more, and, Sir, you will find these very feeling people are not very
ready to do you good. They pay you by feeling." BOSWELL. "But I am
uneasy that I do not feel enough." JOHNSON. "Why then, keep better
company, and read melancholy stories."
BOSWELL. "Foote has a great deal of humour?" JOHNSON. "Yes,
Sir," BOSWELL. "He has a singular talent of exhibiting character."
JOHNSON. "Sir, it is not a talent, it is a vice; it is what others abstain
from. It is not comedy, which exhibits the character of a species, as
that of a miser gathered from many misers; it is farce, which gives
individuals." BOSWELL. "Did not he think of exhibiting you, Sir?"
JOHNSON. "Sir, fear restrained him; he knew I'd break his bones. I
would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg; I would not
have left him a leg to cut off." 7 BOSWELL. "Pray, Sir, is not Foote an
infidel?" JOHNSON. "I do not know, Sir, that he is an infidel. But if he
be an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; that is to say, he
has never thought upon the subject." BOSWELL. "I suppose-, Sir, he
has thought superficially, and seized the first notions which occurred
to his mind." JOHNSON. "Why, then, Sir, still he is like a dog that
snatches the piece next him. Did you never observe that dogs have
not the power of comparing? A dog will take a small bit of meat as
soon as a big, when both are before him.
7 Foote had lost, a leg in 1766 through a fall from a high-spirited horse on which
he had been mounted as a practical joke.
London, 19 October 1769 325
"Buchanan has fewer centos 8 than any modern Latin poet. He not
only had great knowledge of the Latin language, but was a great poet.
Both the Scaligers praise him."
He again talked of the passage in Congreve with high commenda-
tion, and said, "Shakespeare never has six lines together without a
fault. Perhaps you may find seven, but this is not against my general
assertion. If I come to an orchard and say there's no fruit here, and
then comes a poring man and finds two apples and two pears, and
says^ 'Sir, you are mistaken; I have found both apples and pears,'
I should laugh at him ; what would that be to the purpose?"
BOSWELL. "What do you think of Dr. Young's Night Thoughts,
Sir?" JOHNSON. "Why, there are very fine things in them." BOSWELL.
"Is there not less religion in the nation now, Sir, than there was for-
merly?" JOHNSON. "Why, I don't know not." BOSWELL. "For instance,
there used to be a chaplain in every great family, which is not the
case now." JOHNSON. "Neither do you find many of the state servants
which great families used formerly to have. There is a change of
modes in the whole deportment of life."
Next day, 20 October, he appeared, for the only time I suppose in
his life, as a witness in a court of justice, being called to give evidence
to the character of Signor Baretti,, who had stabbed a man in the
street, and was arraigned at the Old Bailey for murder. 9 Never did
such a constellation of genius enlighten the awful Sessions House:
Mr. Burke, Mr. Garrick, Mr. Beauclerk, and Dr. Johnson; and un-
doubtedly their favourable testimony had much weight with the
court and jury. 1 Johnson gave his evidence in a slow, deliberate, and
distinct manner, and with a minuteness of circumstance which was
uncommonly impressive. It is well known that Mr, Baretti was ac-
quitted.
On the 26 of October, we dined together at the Mitre Tavern. I
found fault with Foote for making a fool of his company. JOHNSON.
"Why, Sir, when you go to see Foote, you do not go to see a saint: you
8 Compositions made up of bits from other authors.
l) Baretti was accosted in the street by two prostitutes, and drove one off with a
blow of the hand. Three bullies, friends of the women, then attacked him, and
in self-defence he stabbed one of them mortally with a pocket fruit knife.
1 Goldsmith and Reynolds were also witnesses.
326 London, 26 October 1 769
go to see a man who will live at your house and then bring you on a
public stage; who will have you at his house for the very purpose of
bringing you on a public stage. Sir, he does not make fools of his com-
pany; they whom he exposes are fools already; he only brings them
into action."
Talking of trade, he observed, "It is a mistaken notion that a great
deal of money is brought into the nation by trade. It is not so. Com-
modities come for commodities, but trade produces no capital acces-
sion of wealth. But, though there should be little profit in money,
there is a considerable profit in pleasure, as it gives to one nation the
productions of another; as we have wines and fruits and many other
foreign articles brought to us." BOSWELL. u Yes, Sir, and there is a
profit in pleasure, by its procuring occupation to mankind." JOHN-
SON. "Why, Sir, you cannot call that pleasure to which all are averse,
and which none begin but with the hopes to be idle; a thing which
men dislike before they have tried it, and when they have tried it."
BOSWELL. u But, Sir, the mind must be employed, and we grow weary
if idle." JOHNSON. "That is, Sir, because others are busy^ and we want
company; but if we were all idle, there would be no wearying; we
should all entertain one another. There is, indeed, this in trade: it
gives an opportunity for change of situation amongst men. If there
were no trade, those who are poor would always remain poor. But no
man loves labour for itself." BOSWELL. "Yes, Sir, my father does. He
is a very laborious judge, and he loves the labour." JOHNSON. "Sir,
that is because he loves respect and distinction. Could he have them
without labourt he would like it better." BOSWELL. "He tells me he
likes it for itself." JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, he fancies so, becaxise he is not
accustomed to abstract."
We went home to his house to tea. Mrs. Williams made it with
sufficient dexterity notwithstanding her blindness, though her man-
ner of satisfying herself that the cups were full enough was a little
awkward. She put her finger down a certain way till she felt the tea
touch it. 2 In my first elation at being allowed the privilege of attend-
2 Boswell toned down this account of Mrs, Williams's manner of pouring tea in
the printed Life., saying rather that such seemed to be her method; he added in
a footnote in the second edition that he had since been given reason to think that
she could estimate the amount of tea in a cup by feeling its outside.
London, 26 October 1769 327
ing Dr. Johnson at his late visits to this lady, which was like being
e secretioribus consiliis? I willingly drank cup after cup, as if it had
been the Heliconian spring. But as the charm of novelty went off,, I
grew more fastidious; and besides I discovered that she was of a peev-
ish temper.
There was a pretty larg circle this evening. Dr. Johnson was in
very good humor, lively, and ready to talk upon all subjects. Mr.
Ferguson, the astronomer, told him of a new-invented machine
which went without horses. A man who sat in it turned a handle
which worked a spring that drove it forward. "Then, Sir," said John-
son, "what is gained is, the man has his choice whether he will move
himself alone, or himself and the machine too." Dominiceti being
mentioned, he was violent against him, and said, "There is nothing
in all this boasted system. No, Sir, medicated baths can be no better
than warm water: their only effect can be that of tepid moisture."
One of the company 4 took the other side, very keenly maintaining
that medicines of various sorts, and some too of most powerful effect,
are introduced into the human frame by the medium of the pores;
and n therefore, when warm water is impregnated with salutiferous
substances it may produce great effects as a bath. This appeared to me
very satisfactory. Johnson did not answer it; but talking for victory,
and determined to be master of the field, he had recourse to the device
which Goldsmith imputed to him in the witty words of one of Gib-
ber's comedies: "There is no arguing "faith Johnson, for c when his
pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.' " 5 He
turned to the gentleman, "Well, Sir, go to Dominiceti, and get thyself
fumigated; and let the steam be directed to thy head, for there's the
peccant part"* This produced a triumphant roar of laughter from the
motley assembly of philosophers, printers, and dependents, male and
female.
I know not how I came to introduce so wild a supposition, but I
3 One of the inner circle.
4 Probably Boswell himself,
K Altered from The Refusal, act i.
6 Pope, Essay on Man., ii. 143-144:
Imagination plies her dangerous art,
And pours it all upon the peccant part.
328 London, 26 October 1769
ventured to say, "If, Sir, you were shut up in a castle, and a new-born
child with you, what should you do?" JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, I should
not much like my company." BOSWELL. "But would yoti bring it up?"
He seemed, as may well be supposed, unwilling to pursue the subject;
but, upon my persevering in my question, replied, "Why yes, Sir, I
would; but I must have all conveniences. If I had no garden, I would
make a shed on the roof, and take it there for fresh air. I should feed
it, and wash it much, and with warm water to please it, not with cold
water to give it pain." BOSWELL. "But, Sir, does not heat relax?" JOHN-
SON. "Sir, you are not to suppose the water is to be very hot. I would
not coddle the child. 7 No, Sir, the hardy method of breeding up chil-
dren does no good. I'll take you five children from London, who shall
cuff five Highland children. Sir, a man bred in London will carry a
burthen or run or wrestle as well as one brought up in the hardiest
manner in the country." BOSWELL. "Good living, I stippose, makes the
Londoners strong." JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, I don't know that it does.
Our chairmen from Ireland, who are as strong men as any, have been
brought up upon potatoes. Quantity makes up for quality." BOSWELL.
"Would you teach your child anything?" JOHNSON. "No, I should
not be apt to teach it," BOSWELL. "Would not you have a pleasure in
teaching it?" JOHNSON. "No, Sir, I should not have a pleasure in
teaching it." BOSWELL. "Have you not a pleasure in teaching men?
there I have you. You have the same pleasure in teaching men that
I should have in teaching children." JOHNSON. "Why, something
about that."
BOSWELL. "Do you think, Sir, that what is called natural affection
is born with us? It appears to me to be the effect of habit, or of grati-
tude for kindness. No child has it. for a parent whom it has not seen,"
JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, I think there is an instinctive natural affection
in parents towards their children."
Russia being mentioned as likely to become a great nation by the
rapid increase of population: JOHNSON, "Why,, Sir, I see no pros-
pect of their propagating more. They can have no more children than
they can get. I know of no way to make them breed more than they
do. It is not from reason and prudence that people marry, bxrt from
inclination. A man is poor; he thinks, *I cannot be worse, and so I'll
7 By "relax" Boswell means "enfeeble." And by "coddle" Johnson means "par-
boil" (as in the expression "a coddled egg"), not "pamper,"
London, 26 October 1769 329
e'en take Peggie.' " BOSWELL. "But have not nations been more popu-
lous at one period than another?" JOHNSON. "Yes, Sir^ but that has
been owing to the people being less thinned at one period than an-
other, whether by emigrations, war, or pestilence, not by their being
more or less prolific. Births at all times bear the same proportion to
the same number of people." BOSWELL. "But to consider the state of
our own country; does not throwing a number of farms into one hand
hurt population?" JOHNSON. "Why no, Sir, the same quantity of food
being produced will be consumed by the same number of mouths,
though the people may be disposed of in different ways. We see now if
corn be dear and butchers' meat cheap, the farmers all apply them-
selves to the raising of corn till it becomes plentiful and cheap, and
then butchers' meat becomes dear; so that an equality is always pre-
served. No, Sir, let fanciful men do as they will, depend upon it, it
is difficult to spoil the system of life." BOSWELL. "But, Sir, is it not a
very bad thing for landlords to oppress their tenants by raising their
rents?" JOHNSON. "Very bad. Why, Sir, it never can have any general
influence. It may distress some individuals. But consider this: land-
lords cannot do without tenants. Now tenants will not give more for
land than it is worth. If they can make more of their money by keep-
ing a shop or any other way they'll do it, arid so oblige landlords to
let land come back to a reasonable rent, in order that they may get
tenants. Land in England is an article of commerce. A tenant who
pays his landlord his rent thinks himself no more obliged to him than
you think yourself obliged to a man in whose shop you buy a piece of
goods. He knows the landlord lets him have his land for no less than
he can get from others, in the same manner as the shopkeeper sells
his goods. No shopkeeper sells a yard of riband for sixpence when
scvenpencc is offered for it." BOSWELL. "But, Sir, is it not better that
tenants should bo dependant on landlords?" JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, as
there arc many more tenants than landlords, and a state of depend-
ence is riot a desirable state, we should wish not. But, if you please,
you may let your lands cheap, arid so get the value, part in money,
part in homage, I should agree with you in that." BOSWELL. "So, Sir,
you laugh at schemes of political improvement?" JOHNSON. "Why,
Sir, most schemes of political improvement are very laughable
things."
He observed, "Providence has wisely ordered that the more nu-
33O London., 26 October 1769
merous men are the more difficult it is for them to agree in anything,
and so they are governed. There is no doubt that if the poor should
reason, 'We'll be the poor no longer, we'll make the rich take their
turn,' they could easily do it, only that they could not agree. So the
common soldiers, though so much more numerous than their officers,
are governed by them for the same reason."
He said, "Mankind have a strong attachment to the habitations to
which they have been accustomed. You see the inhabitants of Norway
do not with one consent leave it and go to some country in America
where there is a mild climate and where they may have the same pro-
duce from land with the tenth part of the labour. No, Sir, the attach-
ment to their accustomed dwellings and the terror of a general change
keep them at home. So we see many of the finest spots in the world
thinly inhabited and many rugged spots well inhabited."
The London Chronicle, which was the only newspaper he con-
stantly took in since I was acquainted with him, being brought, the
office of reading it aloud was assigned to me. I was diverted by his im-
patience. He made me pass over so many parts of it that my task was
very easy. He would not suffer one of the petitions to the King about
the Middlesex election to be read.
I had hired a Bohemian as my servant while I remained in Lon-
don, and being much pleased with him, I asked Dr. Johnson if his
being a Roman Catholic should prevent my taking him home to
my family. JOHNSON. a Why no, Sir. If he has no objection, you can
have no objection," BOSWELL. u So, Sir, you are no great enemy to the
Popish religion." JOHNSON. u No more, Sir, than to the Presbyterian
religion." BOSWELL. "You are joking." JOHNSON. "No, Sir^ upon hon-
our I think so. Nay, Sir, of the two, I prefer the Popish." BOSWELL.
"How so, Sir?" JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, the Presbyterians have no
church, no apostolical ordination." BOSWELL. "And do you think that
absolutely essential, Sir?" JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, as it was an apostol-
ical institution, I think it is dangerous to be without it. And, Sir, the
Presbyterians have no public worship: they have no form of prayer
in which they know they can join. They go to hear a man pray, and
are to judge whether they will join with him." BOSWELL. "But, Sir,
their doctrine is the same with that of the Church of England. Their
Confession of Faith and the Thirty-nine Articles contain the same
London, 26 October 1769 331
points, even the doctrine of predestination." JOHNSON. "Why yes,
Sir, predestination was a part of the clamour of the times, so it is men-
tioned in our Articles, but as little positively as could be." BOSWELL.
"Is it necessary, Sir, to believe all the Thirty-nine Articles?" JOHN-
SON. "Why, Sir, that is a question which has been much agitated.
Some have thought it necessary that they should all be believed;
others have considered them to be only articles of peace; that is to say,
you are not to preach against them." BOSWELL. "It appears to me, Sir,
that predestination, or what is equivalent to it, cannot be avoided, if
we hold an universal prescience in God." JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, does
not God every day see things going on and does not prevent them?"
BOSWELL. "True, Sir, but if a thing be certainly foreseen, it must be
fixed, and cannot happen otherwise; and if we apply this considera-
tion to the human mind, there is no free will, nor do I see how prayer
can be of any avail." He mentioned Dr. Clarke, and Bishop Bramhall
on liberty and necessity, and bid me read South's sermons on prayer,
but avoided the question which has excruciated philosophers and
divines beyond any other. I did not press it farther when I perceived
that he was displeased and shrunk from any abridgement of an
attribute usually ascribed to the Divinity, however irreconcilable in
its full extent with the grand system of moral government. His sup-
posed orthodoxy here cramped the vigorous powers of his understand-
ing. He was confined by a chain which early imagination and long
habit made him think massy and strong, but which, had he ventured
to try, he could at once have snapped asunder.
I proceeded: "What do you think, Sir, of the doctrine of purga-
tory, as believed by the Roman Catholics?" JOHNSON. "Why, Sir, it is
a very harmless doctrine. They are of opinion that the generality of
mankind are neither so obstinately wicked as to deserve everlasting
punishment, nor so good as to deserve to be admitted into the society
of blessed spirits; and therefore that God is graciously pleased to allow
of a middle state, where they may be purified by certain degrees of
suffering. You see, Sir, there is nothing unreasonable in this." BOS-
WELL. "But then, Sir, their masses for the dead?" JOHNSON. "Why,
Sir, if it be once established that there are souls in purgatory, it is as
proper to pray for them as for our brethren of mankind who are yet
alive." BOSWELL. "But the idolatry of the mass?" JOHNSON. "Sir, there
London, 26 October 1769
is no idolatry in the mass. They believe God to be there, and they
adore him." BOSWELL. 'The worship of saints?" JOHNSON. "Sir, they
do not worship saints, they invoke them; they only ask their prayers,
I am talking all this time of the doctrines of the Church of Rome. I
grant you that in practice, purgatory is made a lucrative imposition,
and that the people do become idolatrous as they recommend them-
selves to the tutelary protection of particular saints. I think their
giving the sacrament only in one kind is criminal, because it is con-
trary to the express institution of Christ, and I wonder how the Coun-
cil of Trent admitted it." BOSWELL. "Confession?" JOHNSON. "Why,
I don't know but that is a good thing. The Scripture says, 'Confess
your faults one to another,' and the priests confess as well as the laity.
Then it must be considered that their absolution is only upon repent-
ance, and often upon penance also. You think your sins may be for-
given without penance, upon repentance alone." . . . 8
When we were alone I introduced the subject of death., and en-
deavoured to maintain that the fear of it might be got over. I told him
that David Hume said he was no more uneasy to think he should not
be after this life than that he had not been before he began to exist.
JOHNSON. "Sir, if a man really thinks so his perceptions are disturbed,
he is mad; if he does not think so, he lies. Hume knows he lies. Ho
may tell you he holds his finger in the flame of a candle without feel-
ing pain; would you believe him? When he dies, he at least gives up
all he has." BOSWELL. "Foote, Sir, told me that when he was very ill
he was not afraid to die." JOHNSON. "It is not true, Sir. Hold a pistol
to Foote's breast or to Flume's breast and threaten to kill them, and
you'll see how they behave." BOSWELL. "But may we not calm our
minds for the approach of death?" Here I am sensible I was in the
wrong to bring before his view what he ever looked upon with horror;
for, although when in a celestial frame in his Vanity of Human
Wishes he can suppose death to be "kind Nature's signal for retreat"
from this state of being to "a happier seat," the general state of his
thoughts upon this awful transition was dismally apprehensive. Gar-
rick told me that he believed him to be harassed with doubts. I
8 Boswell goes on to remark in the printed Life that this is an accurate account
of what Johnson had said, but if someone "had taken the other side he might
have reasoned differently.'*
London, 26 October 1769 333
agreed, and said his mind resembled the vast amphitheatre, the Colos-
seum at Rome. In the centre stands his judgment like a mighty gladia-
tor, which combats doubts that like the wild beasts are all around in
cells ready to be let out upon him. He grumbles and growls while
they foam and roar. They fight, and he drives them back into their
dens, but never kills them, so that they are always coming out again
upon him. To rny question, if we might not calm our minds for the ap-
proach of death, he answered in passion, "No, Sir, let it alone. It mat-
ters not how a man dies, but how he lives. The act of dying is not of
importance, it lasts so short a time." He added, with an earnest look,
"A man knows it must be, and submits. It will do him no good to
whine."
I attempted to continue the conversation. He was so provoked that
he said, "Give us no more of this," and was thrown into such a state of
tumult that he expressed himself in a way that alarmed and distressed
me; showed an impatience to have me leave him, and, when I was
going away, said, "Don't let us meet tomorrow."
I went home exceedingly uneasy. All the harsh observations
which I had ever heard made upon his character crowded into my
mind; and I seemed to myself like the man who had put his head into
a lion's mouth a great many times with perfect safety, but at last had
it bit off.
Next morning I sent him a note acknowledging that I might have
been in the wrong, but it was not intentionally; he was therefore, I
could not help thinking, too severe upon me. That notwithstanding
our agreement not to meet today, I would call in my way to the City,
and stay five minutes by my watch. "You are," said I, u in my mind
since last night surrounded with cloud and storm. Let me have a
glimpse of sunshine, and go about my affairs in serenity and cheer-
fulness."
Upon entering his study I was glad that he was not alone, which
would have made our meeting more awkward. There were with him
Mr. Steevens and Mr. Tyers, both of whom I now saw for the first
time. My note had, or his own reflection, softened his ferocity, for he
9 Since Boswell's r's and n's are ordinarily identical, this might be read "on" as
it is printed in the Life. Nevertheless, in this case, it looks much more like "or,"
as Hill conjectured it might be. The phrase, "or his own reflection," is inserted
334 London, 27 October 1769
received me very complacently; so that I unexpectedly found myself
at ease, and joined in the conversation.
He said the critics had done too much honour to Sir Richard
Blackmore in writing so much against him. That his Creation had
been helped by various wits, a line by Philips and a line by Tickell:
so that by their aid and that of others the poem had been made out.
I defended Blackmore's lines, which have been celebrated for ab-
solute nonsense:
A painted vest Prince Voltiger had on,
Which from a naked Pict his grandsire won. 1
I maintained it to be a poetical conceit. A Pict being painted, if he is
slain in battle and a vest is made of his skin, it is a painted vest won
from him, though he was naked.
Johnson spoke unfavourably of a certain pretty voluminous au-
thor, saying, "He used to write anonymous books and then other books
commending those books, in which there was something of rascality."
I whispered him, "Well, Sir, you are now in good humour."
JOHNSON. "Yes, Sir." I was going to leave him, and had got as far as
the staircase. He stopped me, and smiling said, "Get you gone in";
a curious mode of inviting me to stay, which I accordingly did for
some time longer. . . .
[Received ?23 October, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
Lainshaw, 1 7 October 1 769
ON SATURDAY YOU WILL RECEIVE MY LETTER OF THE 15x11 with the
paragraph on friendship which I transcribed from Cyrus. I thought
it applicable, as like Araspes I have had my fears, whilst you, with a
generosity equal to the Persian monarch, removed them by your as-
surance of unalterable regard and affection. 2 I likewise thought it
above the line in the manuscript, and perhaps Boswell actually meant to put it
before rather than after "had." If so, the printer may have read "on" because it
made more sense considering where the phrase is inserted.
1 Actually, as Boswell pointed out in a note to the second edition of the Life,
these lines are a parody of a passage in The British Princes by the Hon. Edward
Howard.
2 Les Voyages de Cyrus, in the middle of the third book.
London, 23 October 1769 335
would please you to see I was paying some attention to a language
which you wish me to understand. I hope with your assistance I shall
make some proficience, but at present my mind is too much taken up
to apply to what requires a good deal of study.
I have read your Tour to Corsica with great pleasure and shall
read the History also.
We had a meeting today about settling the turnpike road from
Stewarton to Kilmarnock. Lord Eglinton and Captain Montgornerie-
Cuninghame are on opposite sides. There has no great friendship sub-
sisted between them for some years, and any difference in opinion or
interest augments a disgust which is at best only smothered. It's a
most disagreeable thing to live at variance with one's neighbours; at
least it appears so to me, whose wish it is to live in peace with all the
world. But I cannot answer for myself if I was as wealthy as some
people. Riches often brings such a spirit of independence that its
possessors are apt to forget they have superiors. I mean those who ac-
quire the advantages of fortune at a time of life when the love of the
world begins to take root in their minds; with such, in the Apocryphal
style, "according to their riches, so is their anger." 3
The Rambler has a very good paper on foolish passion. He has
drawn a most natural picture of a domestic tyrant. 4 It appears pretty
much the character of an acquaintance of yours: rough at the best,
his passion seems to gather strength as his body decays. Don't tell me
of your being hot tempered. Where a man has sense and any degree
of politeness, I never think there's any fear of his allowing himself to
be transported beyond the bounds of good nature. If you are angry at
me at times I shall always suppose myself in the wrong, as I'm posi-
tive I must be; but I shall likewise trust to your generosity for pardon
when I acknowledge my fault. I have ever met with this indulgence
from yoxi, and I fear not that you will deny me when you have me, if
possible-, more in your power.
I flatter myself my temper is much calmed of late. I am sure I can
bear a great deal from one I really like, and also am positive that your
advice and opinion will have its due weight with me.
I have sent you inclosed a brass ring as a measure. It is fully wide,
8 Altered from Ecclesiasticus 28. 10.
4 No. 1 1, Apparently Lord Auchinleck is meant.
336 London, 23 October 1769
but I could get nothing that fitted so well except the one I have with
my brother and sisters' hair; however, you will order it a very little
less.
I wish to see your friend the General; at the same time I am afraid
I should make a very awkward figure. 5 Consider me living at Lain-
shaw, unaccustomed to see the face of a creature except our own fam-
ily, and you will not wonder at my being apprehensive of appearing
greatly to the disadvantage before so great a man. I cannot think he
will leave London before the meeting of Parliament, as the favour-
able reception he has met with from our good King will, I hope, assist
him to make friends amongst the people in power, who may in some
period, I hope not far distant, be helpful in restoring him to his be-
loved Corsica. 6
My anxiety is certainty too great. I went to the post-office, and,
because there was no letters, which I might reasonably have expected
would be the case, I was uneasy and disappointed. Perhaps you will
be in Devonshire before this reaches London. I wish you safely there,
and that you may find your deservedly esteemed friend happy and
well. Ask him if he thinks you had cause for being as angry at me as
you say you was for what I formerly wrote. Do you recollect a book
you gave me, of which I remember nothing more than the name
(Smith on The Theory of Moral Sentiment) , except one observation,
to wit: that a person is much more displeased when their friend does
not enter warmty into their sentiments than when they appear in-
sensible of the merit and good qualities of those they love? 7 It's per-
haps not expressed in this manner, but it runs in my mind that it's
something to the same purpose. I wish I had a memory equal to
Paoli's, but I find myself very different as to that. T trust T shall hear
from you tomorrow. I beg you will observe this is tho third letter I
have wrote without once enquiring when you propose being home. I
saw Mr. Montgomerie, Coilsfield and Mr. Hamilton, Stmdrum, They
joked me a good deal, but were pleased to signify how much they re-
joiced at the prospect of having me for a near neighbour.
We have Treesbank and Hugh Campbell tonight. I must draw my
5 Boswell wrote to John Johnston on 16 October that the General "has promised
me that he will go to Scotland, and I have hopes that he will go down the be-
ginning of next month and be present at my marriage,"
6 For what follows, see p. 229 n.2.
7 See Part I, Section i, Ch. 2, entitled, "Of the Pleasure of Mutual Sympathy."
London, 23 October 1769 337
letter to a conclusion, as I scruple to trouble you with such long, stu-
pid scrawls. I shall therefore, though unwillingly, bid my dear friend
adieu, after assuring him that I sincerely am his ever faithful and
affectionate
M.M.
[Received ?3O October, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
Lainshaw, 24 October 1 769
I AM JUST RETURNED FROM THE POST-OFFICE quite disappointed at
riot receiving a letter from my dear friend. I was not well and very
low spirited, and therefore stood in need of comfort, but your former
goodness to me puts it out of my power to complain. I have just now
had very melancholy accounts of poor Lord Eglinton. He was on
his way to Lord Glasgow's and met an excise officer amongst his en-
closure at Ardrossan; as he is a notorious poacher, my Lord ordered
him to deliver his gun, which he positively refused, adding he would
part 8 with it and life together. My Lord upon this jumped out of his
coach, arid the fellow presented his piece to him, warning him to keep
off; in the mean time Campbell's foot struck a stone and he fell back
into a furrow; when, seeing Lord Eglinton advancing towards him,
he fired and shot him through the body. Expresses are gone every way
for assistance, but, by the accounts I have received, I'm afraid all is
over with him. I have sent off to get the particulars from Charles
Crookshanks, 9 and shall be able to give you distinct information about
this unhappy affair as soon as the express returns.
The man has just arrived and has brought me a letter from one of
the surgeons, which I inclose to you. Oh, what a melancholy thing it
is to lose one's friend in such a shocking, barbarous manner! The fel-
low is put in jail, and was examined before the magistrates of Irvine.
He confessed he shot my Lord, but insists that he was in the way of
his duty and therefore not culpable. He had information of smugglers
coming that way, if one can credit his method of telling the story. But
surely the law was open to him; if my Lord did an unwarrantable
thing, he therefore ought to have sought his redress in that way.
What an afflicted family! Poor Lady Eglinton 1 parted with him in
$ Typescript, "hunt."
Lord Eglinton's steward in England.
1 His mother. Eglinton never married, btit is said at the time of his death to have
338 London, 30 October 1 769
great health and spirits, and in a few hours after had him brought
back a woeful, bloody spectacle.
How vain, how transitory, is every earthly enjoyment! that such
a striking instance of mortality may teach us to keep in mind our
latter end, and so to number our days as to apply our hearts unto
wisdom. 2
I cannot write anything else, I am so distressed with this sad acci-
dent. I really hardly know what I am doing. Write me soon, my dear
Jamie, and tell me how you do. I am more and more anxious about
you. When I feel so much for the danger an old and intimate ac-
quaintance is in, what must I not suffer for the man I prefer to every
earthly being, when I consider that he is not well, and, for aught I
know, may at present be under the greatest distress?
I suppose next letter I write will inform you that your old friend
is now no more. I was told so this moment, but as it was not from cer-
tain authority I do not assert it for a truth, though Mr. Fleming's ac-
count makes it extremely probable. 3
Adieu, my dearest friend. May the Almighty bless and preserve
you to your ever faithful and affectionate
M.M.
[Boswell to Margaret Montgomcrie]
Mamhead, Sunday evening |'/5 November"] 1 769
MY DKARKST LOVE, Times and places have much influence on
souls so happily enthusiastic as mine. You know this, and therefore
you will easily conceive what are my cairn, agreeable feelings on a
Sunday evening at the parsonage of Temple, my old and most inti-
mate friend. I got here to breakfast on Friday morning; and had the
pleasure to find Mr. and Mrs. Temple very well. The parsonage is a
small thatched house. But it contains several very tolerable rooms,
which are neatly fitted up so that one may live in them comfortably
enough.
been engaged to Mrs. Jean Montgornerie, Margaret Montgomerie's widowed
sister-in-law.
2 See Psalms 90, 12,
3 Eglinton did, in fact, die that night. Fleming was the surgeon referred to
earlier. His letter has not been recovered.
Mamhead, 5 November 1769 339
We passed the day on Friday very happily. I found myself quite
at home. Mrs. Temple is an amiable, well-behaved young woman,
and is interested about me as if I had been her friend as long as I have
been that of her husband. My friend has a fine boy about fourteen
months old. He was privately baptized long ago. But yesterday we
had him solemnly admitted a Christian in the church, where I stood
as godfather to him. Mr. Harington, a clergyman in the neighbour-
hood, who stood for the other godfather, a gentleman now in London,
dined with us. He is a man of an ancient family and a high Tory, so
was an admirable companion for me. Yesterday passed away in con-
versation and friendly sentiment more valuable than I can describe
without appearing to exaggerate.
I have been today at the parish church. It is a small, old building,
but like every church in England, even the smallest, has something
venerable and ornamental about it. There is a ring of five bells. Some
pillars in the church. Some curious painted glass in the windows, and
some inscriptions on the walls. Over the door is, "To him. that knock-
eth it shall be opened." On one side fronting the pulpit is, "Wherewith
shall I come before the Lord," &c., from Micah "To do justly, love
mercy, and walk humbly with thy God" and over the communion
table in a little chancel railed in with Gothic carving in wood, "But
let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of this bread and drink
of this cup."* My friend preached on II Timothy, chapter i, verse 10:
"Our Saviour Jesus Christ hath brought life and immortality to light
by the gospel." He gave us an excellent consolatory discourse on the
immortality of the soul. He has a very small congregation, not above
fifty people. I was in the best frame imaginable, full of present con-
tentment and future hope.
I wish you was here with me. We all flatter ourselves with that
prospect, Devonshire is a delightful country. This parsonage has a
good glebe, and a charming prospect both of land and sea. Mr. Tem-
ple is to accompany me this evening to Exeter, from whence I set out
tomorrow morning at one in the post-coach for London. This visit to
my friend has fully answered my expectations. Adieu, my dearest
love. I am ever your faithful and affectionate
IB.
* Luke 11. 10; Micah 6, 6, 6. 8; I Corinthians 11. 28.
340 London, 8 November 1 769
[Received ?8 November, Margaret Montgomerie to Bos well]
Lainshaw, 31 October 1769
AFTER INFORMING YOU THAT I HAVE RECEIVED BOTH YOUR AGREE-
ABLE LETTERS, 5 it is almost unnecessary to say how happy they made
me, as you must ere now be persuaded that every proof of your affec-
tion and remembrance confers an obligation on your grateful friend.
I shall say nothing of the one dated the second of October; only you
are sensible I am not without feeling, so can easily imagine I could
not read it without pain.
Though you may believe I wished and likewise expected to have
seen you sooner than I now can; yet, as you tell me your absence
is necessary, I submit. I cannot help being uneasy at the thoughts of
General Paoli's being witness to the ceremony. It's at any rate an aw-
ful affair, and would be doubly so in the presence of so great a man.
To be sure, I ought to carry my views much higher and consider my-
self before the Supreme Being, but sensible objects have too great an
effect on our minds, and are apt to draw them off from tilings of
greater importance. I sincerely wish he may not come n but if lie does,
and you signify to me your desire to have him, you may believe I
shall agree, whatever it should cost me. Do not again take a disgust at
me and think me a weak, awkward, spiritless being. Remember, with
advantages vastly superior to mine, you yourself was uneasy in the
presence of the illustrious Chief. You bid me tell you every thought of
my heart and have no other confidant but you. I really have none, and
do fairly acknowledge to you that I wish you could steal out of Edin-
burgh when nobody can suspect where you are going, and let the
ceremony be put over as privately as possible, as I would like to re-
main in the country till you thought it necessary for me to come to
town; however, determine on whatever is most; agreeable and con-
venient for yourself, and be assured I shall willingly comply with
whatever you judge right.
You would be greatly shocked with the accounts of poor Lord
Eglinton's death. His murderer is nephew to Netherplace. I doubt not
but they will apply to you to be his counsel, but I am likewise certain
their application will be in vain. It was put in the newspapers that it
was accidental, bxit my Lord expressed himself in a very different
5 These letters have not been recovered.
London, 8 November 1 769 341
manner, and his servants were witnesses to its being designed. I forgot
if I told you Lord Eglinton settled 100 a year on Charles Crook-
shanks and two hundred a year on Mrs. Brown. 6
My sister talks of being in Edinburgh in ten days to settle her
eldest son at the college, and secure a house for herself and family. I
wish you could come west while she remains in town. I am clearly of
opinion you should continue your servant, and I don't believe that his
wages are higher than Thomas's were; but you may try if he will
agree to the same terms, as it will not sound so ill to the Commissioner
and some more of your economical friends.
I hope you will not be angry at me for objecting to the presence of
Paoli. I am only telling you my uneasiness, at the same time assuring
you that I shall do all in my power to get the better of it. This will not
reach you till after your return from Devonshire, but I hope I shall
hear from you while there. I must now conclude with assuring you
that I sincerely am my dear Jamie's ever faithful and affectionate
M.M.
| Received ?8 November, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
Lainshaw, 2 November 1769
I HOPE THIS WILT, FIND MY DEAR FRIEND IN PERFECT HEALTH and
safely returned from his Devonshire excursion.
I wrote 3^>u last night, and am now sorry that I expressed myself
as I did on a certain subject. I wish you may not blame me also, but
remember I am willing to be entirely guided by you; so you must for-
get as much as possible what is weak and foolish, and consider that
when we meet I shall not only act as you think proper, but I hope
through time to acquire a manner of thinking agreeable to you.
I am not in spirits for writing at present. This is poor Lord Eglin-
tori's bxirial day. I am something of an Episcopal in my heart, and
often read the Book of Prayer with great satisfaction. Their form of
burying their dead pleases me much; it is so decent and solemn. How
differently do they go about it in the Presbyterian way: talking with-
out any concern about their business, or perhaps the most trifling sub-
6 Lord Eglinton's kept mistress. Boswell considered her good looking, and was
agreeably impressed by her quietness and good nature upon first acquaintance,
but afterwards thought her "a low censorioxis Scots lass" (Boswell's London
Journal, 14 May 1763).
342 London, 8 November 1 769
jects that can occupy the thoughts of reasonable beings. My Lord
begged he might be privately interred, and above all things recom-
mended sobriety. On most occasions this advice might be very neces-
sary (to) the Colonel, but he is in such real distress about his brother's
death that I believe he has little relish for his bottle. 7
The wife and sister of the unhappy murderer went to Lord
Loudoun, but my Lord would have nothing to say to them. He desired
they might apply to some other person, for he never would interest
himself in such a cause. Campbell is one of the most worthless of the
human race. He twice attempted to murder before (he) deprived poor
Lord Eglinton of life. What can be expected from a creature who,
without the principles of what the world calls honour, denies the
existence of a God? s I am called downstairs, so must bid my dear
friend good night, but I shall write soon again. Adieu, and may the
Almighty bless and preserve you is the sincere prayers of your affec-
tionate and faithful
M.M.
[Manuscript of The Life of Johnson']
Being to set out for Scotland on the 10 of November, I wrote to
him at Streatham begging that he would meet me in town on the 9th;
but if this should be very inconvenient to him I would come out to
him. He answered:
9 November 1 769
DEAR SIR, Upon balancing the inconveniencies of both parties,
I find it will less incommode you to spend your night here, than me
to come to town. I wish to see you, and am ordered by the lady of this
house to invite you hither. Whether you can come or not, I shall not
have any occasion of writing to you again before your marriage, and
therefore tell you now that with great sincerity I wish you happiness.
I am, dear Sir, your most affectionate, humble servant,
SAM. JOHNSON.
7 Archibald Montgomorie, who succeeded his brother as eleventh Earl, was
notorious for "his hard drinking.
8 Campbell was found guilty of murder and condemned to death, but he hanged
himself in prison,
9 This letter is missing in the manuscript, and is supplied from the printed Life.
Streatham, to November 1769
I was detained in town till it was too late on the gth, so went out to
him early in the morning of the i oth November. "Now," said he, "that
you are going to marry, do not expect more from life than life will
afford. You may often find yourself out of humour, and you may
often think your wife not studious enough to please you, and yet you
may have reason enough to consider yourself as upon the whole very
happily married."
Talking of marriage in general he observed, "Our marriage ser-
vice is too refined. It is calculated only for the best kind of marriages,
whereas we should have a form for matches of convenience, of which
there are many." He agreed with me that there was no absolute neces-
sity for having the marriage ceremony performed by a regular clergy-
man, for this was not commanded in scripture.
I was volatile enough to repeat to him a little epigrammatic song
of mine on matrimony, which Mr. Garrick had a few days before pro-
cured to be set to music.
A MATRIMONIAL THOUGHT
In the blithe days of honeymoon,
With Kate's allurements smitten,
I loved her late, I loved her soon,
And called her dearest kitten.
But now my kitten's grown a cat,
And cross like other wives,
Oh! by my soul, my honest Mat,
I fear she has nine lives.
My illustrious friend said, "Mighty well, Sir, but don't swear." Upon
which I altered, "Oh! by my soul" to "alas, alas!"
He was good, enough to accompany me to London, and see me into
the post-chaise which was to carry me on my road to Scotland.
[Received ? 1 2 November, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
Lainshaw, 5 November 1 769
I WAS THIS NIGHT FAVOURED WITH TWO KIND LETTERS from my
dear friend, for which I beg leave to offer my sincere and grateful
thanks. The one dated the 3Oth had by the stupidity of some of the
344 Newcastle, 12 November 1769
clerks to the post-office been missent, which made me a day longer of
receiving it and of consequence a sufferer. I am truly sorry to think
you have been melancholy, but I know it's in vain to argue against it.
To the Almighty I put up my earnest request that he may remove far
from your mind every gloomy, every discontented thought. In His
mercy I trust that you will have few returns of such a disagreeable
complaint. Do not be uneasy at the thought of your being ill to live
with, when you can have the satisfaction to think you have never
deceived me; on the contrary have always made yourself worse than
you really are. Be that as it will, I have no right to believe you free of
the faults and imperfections you charge yourself with, and therefore
am prepared to bear with them. Be not therefore distressed about
what ought never to give you pain. You have plainly told me what is
your real temper. It will be my duty to study your happiness; other-
wise I shall be much more faulty than you.
I am very unhappy to think you are complaining of a bad cold.
Oh, be careful of yourself, and consider how dangerous it is to neglect
it, how fatal it has been to many by laying the foundation of long and
tedious disorders. I wrote you last night, as I thought there was a
chance my letter might reach you, but I fancy Mr. Dempster will
send it after you, though it's of no great consequence whether or not.
As to our meeting, you may believe I earnestly wish it may be soon,
but not till you have recovered the fatigue of your journey and find
yourself better of your cold-, as I would not wish to see you at the ex-
pense of your health. I really think it would be more proper for you
to come this length; it would have a much better appearance, and
that, you know, should be considered. You are, I dare say, perfectly
convinced that my inclination would lead me to do what you desire.,
but for your sake I wish to behave with prudence and propriety. I
hope you will write me from Newcastle in case you stay a day on the
road. I know I shall hear upon your arrival in Edinburgh. May God
bless you and return you in safety is my sincere and fervent prayer. I
am under a necessity to make this letter shorter than I could wish, as I
have no frank.
All here are pretty well; the Captain complains of a rheumatic
disorder. My sister had a letter from your father, who has been dis-
tressed with the same complaint. He is better, but was not so well as to
Newcastle, 12 November 1769 345
be able to do the last sad office to poor Lord Eglinton's remains. Adieu,
my dearest friend, and that you may be at all times directed by infi-
nite wisdom to what is for your happiness here and hereafter is the
earnest wish of your ever faithful and affectionate
MM.
[Received ? 1 6 November, Margaret Montgomerie to Boswell]
Lainshaw, 15 November 1769
SINCE YOUR ARRIVAL IN SCOTLAND I have received no less than five
letters: one from Mr. Temple's, one from London, and one from
Musselburgh last night, and this post brought me a letter from Exe-
ter, and another from Edinburgh. 1 Words cannot give you a just idea
of the grateful sense I have of your goodness. I can only at present
offer you my thanksS, but trust that you shall be convinced by my con-
duct that I am truly sensible of the obligations I owe you for your
friendly attention. My heart is greatly at ease now that you are safely
arrived in Edinburgh, and the prospect I have of seeing you so soon is
most agreeable to me, but yet I'm afraid it may fatigue you too much.
I reflect with uneasiness on your travelling so far without sleep, and
am fearful that you may still feel the bad effects of it.
It is my sincere wish that you and your father may be on a friend-
ly footing. I know it is a matter of consequence to you. Independent of
any prudent motives, the affection of a parent, even in an humble
station, is necessary to promote the happiness of one of your princi-
ples. This I am positive you will find to be the case, and therefore
hope you will have great satisfaction to think you have in some meas-
ure yielded to him,
I sent you by the carrier a little black jelly 2 for your cold, as I
could get no honey. It was made by your friend, the Lady Treesbank.
The Captain, poor man, has been more distressed than usual,
which has determined Mrs. Montgomerie-Cuninghame to put off
corning to Edinburgh for some time. Her sons and their governor are
to be in town Saturday night.
If you tell me you ar,e determined to be here, I'll meet you on the
1 Only the lotter from Temple's (printed p. 338) has been recovered.
2 Probably black currant jelly.
346 Edinburgh., 16 November 1 769
road if in health; but if not, you must just come up to my room, where
I shall be alone to receive my dear friend. But if you are in the least
degree complaining, or imagine your father will disapprove of your
coming, do not think of it; for, believe me, I shall not misconstruct the
delay. Will you take the trouble to tell Dr. Boswell to send out the
picture he took to get framed, as the Captain is impatient to have it. I
shall not lose hopes of seeing you on Saturday till I hear from you that
you are not to be here, so you see by this that it is no small sacrifice to
give up a point of that kind. Adieu, and believe me your faithful and
affectionate
M.M.
1 have only one frank for you, which I keep till 1 have a longer
letter to write.
[Received ?i/ November, Margaret Montgomeric to Boswell]
Lainshaw, 1 6 November 1 769
I WROTE YOU A LETTER LAST NIGHT begging you would not think of
coming here without you was in perfect health and found it would
not disoblige your father. By yours tonight I am happy to see you arc
quite well, and would gladly hope there can be no objections made to
your coming out, as I am extremely anxious to see you, having a thou-
sand things to tell you which I cannot write. Believe me, I almost
repent my writing last night, as I thixik it may have prevented you
from coming, which will be a very great disappointment to rne; but I
am sure it will not happen without a good cause, so I ought to be quite
submissive. I am extremely happy to think home is so agreeable to
you. I hope you will always find it so. I shall enclose this to Bob Bos-
well, in case you are set out before it arrives.
I see the Captain and my sister expect you, and from some things
I have heard, though not from themselves, they will think it odd if
you are not here soon. The Captain keeps the fatted calf for your ar-
rival. Poor man, he has not been well for some time past; his rheu-
matic disorder has increased, as also his stomachic complaints. I shall
hear from you on Saturday what time you think of being here, that I
may know when I should set out to meet you. You see I will have it
that you are to come, notwithstanding what I wrote on Wednesday.
Edinburgh, 1 7 November 1 769 347
You don't say anything about your father's want of health, so I would
gladly hope he is now perfectly well. I believe the children will not be
in Edinburgh till the beginning of next week. They are gone to Trees-
bank to take leave of their friends there. All here join in best wishes to
you. My prayers are more fervent for your happiness than my own.
Adieu, and believe me, my dearest friend, your ever faithful and
affectionate
M.M.
| Boswell to Margaret Montgomerie]
Edinburgh, Thursday 23 November 1 769
MY BEAR PEGGIE, This is probably the last letter which I shall
have an opportunity to write to Miss Peggie Montgomerie. Your kind
favour (your last, too, as a young lady), which I received this morn-
ing, is another proof of your admirable heart and spirit. I went to
your friend Lord Egiinton and delivered your polite message, which
he received in the best manner, A favour is making for him, and he is
to appear with it on Sunday. I cannot think of our coming to my
father's house. It would be mixing gall with my honey. We shall
concert what to do when we meet. I like your saying, "Be you positive
to take me with you." Only think: the day after tomorrow we are to
be married. Pray look back and recollect all our former scenes. I have
some bitter oranges for the Captain. I am so earnestly invited to Both-
well Castle that I cannot refuse. So I shall be there tomorrow night.
Your gown comes with mo. You can soon put it on. Let dinner be late.
We shall both dross in white before it. I ever am your faithful and
affectionate
J.B.
This is wrillon from worthy Grange's room. He offers you his best
compliments.
\ Scots Magazine']
25 [NOVEMBER"], 3 At Edinburgh, Alexander Boswell, Esquire, of
Auchinleck, one of the Lords of Session and Justiciary, to Miss Betty
3 The Edinburgh Marriage Register gives the date of Lord Auchinleck's mar-
riage as 19 November, which is more likely the correct date.
348 Lainshaw^ 25 November 1 769
Boswell, second daughter of John Boswell, Esquire, of Balmuto, de-
ceased.
25 [NOVEMBER]. At Lainshaw, in the shire of Ayr, James Boswell,
Esquire, of Auchinleck, advocate, to Miss Peggie Montgomerie,
daughter of the late David Montgomerie of Lainshaw, Esquire.
[EDITORIAL NOTE. Boswell, always keenly sensitive to symbolism.,
summed up in his marriage contract all the major enthusiasms of his
life for the three years immediately preceding his marriage: love,
Corsica-, Dr. Johnson, and the Douglas cause. It is a contract with the
woman of his choice, drawn by himself as an advocate; it is witnessed
by General Paoli, Dr. Johnson, and Archibald Douglas, He has folded
it in the usual style of a legal paper, and endorsed it, Marriage Con-
tract between James Boswell, Esq. and Miss Peggie Montgomerie,
1769.]
This is the marriage contract between James Boswell, Esquire,
eldest son to the Right Honourable Alexander Boswell, Esquire, of
Auchinleck, one of the Lords of Session and Justiciary in Scotland,
and Miss Peggie Montgomerie, daughter to the late David Mont-
gomerie of Lainshaw, Esquire.
The said parties do hereby agree that, in consideration of the sin-
cerest mutual love and regard, they will, on or before the holy festival
of Christmas next to come, be united to each other by marriage.
They solemnly engage to be faithful spouses, to bear with one
another's faults, and to contribute as much as possible to each other's
happiness in this world; hoping through the merits of their blessed
Saviour, Jesus Christ, for eternal happiness in the world which is to
come.
In faith of which, this paper, written by the said James Boswell,
Esquire, is subscribed by him at London on the thirty-first day of
October in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and
sixty-nine, before these witnesses: Pascal Paoli, General of the Corsi-
cans, and Samuel Johnson, Doctor of Laws, and author of The Ram-
bler and other works.
JAMES BOSWKLL.
The Marriage Contract between James Boswell and Margaret Montgomerie,
ft Ottober tj(M^ sigtHMl by Miss Moutgouiorit* on '25 November 1769; with
owlorsotmwt* by Pawj\uilf <lo Paoli, Saitiuol Johnson, and Archibald Douglas.
From the original in the Yale University Library
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Lainshaw, 25 November 1769 349
lo sottoscritto ho veduto, e sono stato presente^ quando il Signore
Giacomo Boswell ha sottoscritto questo foglio. 4
PASQUALE DE PAOLI.
SAM. JOHNSON, Witness.
And by the said Miss Peggie Montgomerie at Lainshaw, on the
twenty-fifth of November in the year of our Lord one thousand seven
hundred and sixty-nine, before these witnesses: the Honourable
Archibald Douglas of Douglas, Esquire, and the said James Boswell,
Esquire.
MARGARET MONTGOMERIE.
A. DOUGLAS, Witness.
4 "I, the undersign rd, was present and saw James Boswell, Esquire, subscribe this
document." Paoli did not conic to Scotland for the marriage.
APPENDIX A
Versus in the Character of a Corsican at Shakespeare's
Jubilee^ at Stratford-upon-Avon^ Sept. 6^ 1769 .
BY TAMILS BOSWKUL., KSQ.
From the rude banks of Golo'^ rapid flood,
Alas! too deeply tinged with patriot blood;
O'er which, dejected, injured freedom bends 7
And sighs indignant o'er all Europe sends :
Behold a Corsican! in better days,
Eager I sought my country's fame to raise;
When o'er our camp Paoli's banners waved,
Arid all the threats of hostile France we braved,
Till unassisted, a small nation failed-,
And our invaders* tenfold force prevailed.
Now when I'm exiled from rny native Iand 7
I come to join this classic festal band,
To soothe my soul on Avon's sacred stream,
Arid from your joy to catch a cheering gleam.
To celebrate great Shcikespeare's wond'rous fame,
And add new trophies to the honoured name
Of nature's bard, whom though your country bore,
His influence spreads to ev'ry distant shore:
Wherever genuine feeling souls are found.,
His "wood notes wild" with ecstasy resound.
Had Shakespeare lived our story to relate,
And hold his torch o'er our unhappy fate;
Lived with majestic energy to tell
How long we fought, what heroes nobly fell!
Had Garrick, who Dame Nature's pencil stole,
351
352 Verses in the Character of a Corsican
Just where old Shakespeare dropped it, when his soul
Broke from its earthy cage aloft to fly,
To the eternal world of harmony
Had Garrick shown us on the tragic scene,
With fame embalmed our deeds of death had been;
If from his eyes had flashed the Corsic fire,
Men less had gazed to pity than admire.
happy Britons! on whose favoured isle,
Propitious freedom ever deigns to smile,
Whose fame is wafted on triumphant gales,
Where thunders war, or commerce spreads her sails,
1 come not hither sadly to complain,
Or damp your mirth with melancholy strain;
In man's firm breast concealed the grief should lie,
Which melts with grace in woman's gentle eye;
But let me plead for liberty distressed,
And warm for her each sympathetic breast:
Amidst the splendid honours which you bear,
To save a sister island be your care!
With generous ardour make us also free;
And give to Corsica a noble jubilee!
A MAP OF THE ENVIRONS OF. EDINBURGH
ocatina manu of me places mef2tionea in tne text
REDRAWN BY HAROLD K. FA YE FROM AN ANONYMOUS MAP, CIRCA 1767
(ALSO SEE "A PLAN OF THE CITY OF EDINBURGH" OPPOSITE PAGE vm)
UW^WK ^p^Q^mm %
is^\\rTc'^
. - ^ n/!D
.
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A MAP OF SCOTLAND AND IRELAND
locatina manu or l/te D laces mentioned in fne /e<
5*"^v N Edinburgh"*
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Woofer Hough Head \ B
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GLAND }
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" Black Nokly .
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Portsmouth*^ Mri$htm
DETAILED MAP
A 11 C H 1 N L E C
TO KDINBUROH
A MAP OF ENGLAND
locating many of me places mentioned in me text
APPENDIX B
Genealogical Tables
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355
INDEX
This is in the main an index of proper names, but Part I of the article, BOS-
WELL, JAMES, collects and digests under general headings Boswell's refer-
ences to his states of mind, traits of character, opinions, feelings, &c. There
is a brief analysed article, SCOTLAND, and general subjects which Johnson
happened to discuss are fully reported in Part III of the article, JOHNSON,
SAMUEL. Observations on specified persons and places are ordinarily entered
under the person or place in question; for example, Boswell's opinions of
Lord Auchinleck will be found under Lord Auchinlecfc and not under Bos-
well Churches, streets, inns, mountains, &c, are given separate articles in
the main alphabet, except for those in London and Edinburgh, which will be
found under those entries. Place names, if no country is specified, are in
Great Britain and Ireland, or are so well known that to add the name of a
country would be an impertinence. Emperors and kings are entered under
their Christian names; other sovereign princes under either Christian name
or title, according to which is the better known; noblemen and lords of ses-
sion and their wives under their titles. The styles chosen are usually those
proper to 1766-1769, Well-known names (e.g., Eugene, Prince of Savoy)
have been anglicised in cases where it was thought that English-speaking
readers would be more accustomed to the English forms. Maiden names of
married women are given in parentheses. Titles of books are listed under the
name of the author, except where the author has not been identified in the
text or notes, in which case a cross reference is given from the title to the
author. The following abbreviations are employed: D. (Duke), M,
(Marquess), E. (Earl), V. (Viscount), B. (Baron), JB (James Boswell),
SJ (Samuel Johnson),
Abbott,C, Colle6r,xxv, in, Agnew, Lieut-Col. Andrew, of Lochryan,
Aberdeen, William Gordon, ad E. of, 2264 197
Adam, Pire, friend of Voltaire* 46 Aiken, Robert, law agent, 37
Adams, Frederick B., Jr., xxvi Ailsa Craig island, 196
Adamtovra, eutate 01 Catherine Blair, atvii, Aitken, Rev. Edward, 136, a66
67, 78-79, 81, 86, 89, 98, loo-tot, 104, Ajaccio, Corsica, rvi
183 Alemoor (Andrew Pringle), Lord, 27, 170
Addiion, Jo$tph f Oio, t$4$ S&^ct&tor, 248, Alexander the Great, 59
a Q7t $Q4i 3**-3* a Alexander, William, merchant, 116
Adi0 % Ptttr, lurgfton, 44* Mmon, John, bookseller, 169
357
358
Index
Alnwick, 135
Alps, 2
Alva, "Lady." See Erskine, Elizabeth
(Hairstanes)
Alva (James Erskine), Lord (Lord
Barjarg), 121, 122, 170, 213, 221
Ambrose, St., 8
America, 120, 239, 246
Anacreon, 306
Angel Inn, Oxford, 146, 274
Angelo. See Tremamondo, Domenico
Anglesey cause, 173
Arbuthnot, ? Robert, 31
Archer, Edward, M.D., 305
Archibald, James, soldier, 130
Ardmillan, 196
Ardrossan, 337
Argyll, Archibald Campbell, sd D. of, 295
Argyll, family, 144
Aristippus, 61
Armstrong, David, advocate, 118, 236, 297
Armstrong, John, poet and physician, 59,
304
Armytage, Sir George, Bt, 136-137
Arne, Thomas Augustine, composer,
Artaxerxes, 249; Judith, 269/1., 279, 280
Arniston, 19, 113
Atchison, gardener, 205-206
Atholl, John Murray, 3d D, of, 203
Atticus, 94
Auchinbreck. See Campbell, Sir James, Bt.
Auchinleck (Alexander Boswell), Lord,
father of JB
[Part I, General References; Part II,
His Second Marriage; Part III, Rela-
tions with JB and Margaret Mont-
gomerie.1
I. General References. Account of, i;
his character, x, 39; contrasted with Dr.
John Boswell, 25/2.2; sits as judge in the
Outer House, 75; does not have a good
opinion of Belle de Zuylen, 8; Pringle a
great friend of, 28/1.3; Pringle writes to
of Belle de Zuylen, 35; studies Douglas
memorials, 45; attends burial of Sir
Thomas Miller's wife, 60 ; has never been
uneasy about religion, 63-64; ill, 64, 113,
344; his conceit on flirtations with
married women, 66; entertains Mrs. and
Miss Blair at Auchinleck, 68; visits Miss
Blair, 86; had a bad opinion of Temple in
1759, 90; relations with his children, 99-
100; dines in various companies, 121,
122, 129, 132, 215-216, 217, 222, 242,
249; Lord Mansfield praises, 169; invited
to visit Lainshaw, 229; relates the old
Earl of Aberdeen's manner of picking up
knowledge, 264; loves labour, 326; men-
tioned, xvii, 14, 41, 52/z., 55/2.6, 73, 78,
79, 80, 82, 91, 93, 96, 111, 115, 144, H5,
208, 213, 221, 239, 256, 335, 348
II. His Second Marriage. JB objects to
his prospective marriage, xi, xii, 23, 108,
216-217, 220-221, 226, 232, 243, 246,
260, 307, 309-311, 312, 317; inspires JB's
essay "On Second Marriages," 233-235;
proposes marriage to Elizabeth Boswell,
209/2.6; tries to talk about marriage with
JB, 214; acknowledges his intention of a
second marriage to JB, 226; JB refuses to
talk with, because of proposed remar-
riage, 230, 231, 236; his scheme of re-
marriage talked of by Lord Monboddo,
218, 225, by Maconochie and Sir Alex-
ander Dick, 230; marries Elizabeth Bos-
well, 347; leaves his widow a large join-
ture, xi
III. Relations with JB and Margaret
Montgomerie. Introductory account of,
x-xii, i; JB disputes with over entail,
xi, 254-256; tells JB his estate is not en-
tailed, 309/2.1; position as judge helps JB
as a young advocate, xii, 75; opposes JB's
marriage to Margaret Montgomerie,
xviii, 201, 240, 252/2.7; cheerfully tells
JB of hearing of his desire to marry
Margaret Montgomerie, 238; Margaret
Montgomerie is afraid to meet, 245, 248,
257-262; agrees to JB's marriage with
Margaret Montgomerie, 246, 254; re-
ceives JB kindly on his return from Lain-
shaw, 249; Margaret Montgomerie
pledges her duty to, 252, begs JB not to
offend, 345; JB objects to taking his bride
at once to the house of, 347; JB in mob
that breaks windows of, xiv, 189, 191;
JB praises his speech in the Douglas
cause, 170; JB imagines the effect of his
marrying the gardener*s daughter on, 4;
approves of JB's writing the Account of
Corsica, 10, calls it Quixotism, 45; dis-
putes verdict in JB's first criminal case,
Index
359
12; approves JB's progress as a lawyer,
31; converses with JB on the law, gives
an account of Hamilton memorial, 43;
criticizes JB's paper in the cause of Mac-
kenzies v. Sir Alexander Mackenzie, 57;
Dalrymple mediates differences between
JB arid, 13/2.6; JB is advised to please by
SJ, 15, by Pringle, 29, by Temple, 98, by
Dempster, 191; JB thinks will not like
the wife of his choosing, 23; talks to JB
on economy, 43; ceases to treat JB like a
boy, 44; lives happily with JB at Auchin-
leck, 51, 68; would be pleased by a mar-
riage between JB and Catherine Blair,
51, 72, 107, 133; JB resolves to please,
t^ 54, 103, 122-123; helps JB buy Dal-
blair, 55, 57; dictates to JB an account of
the Bos wells, 57; JB accompanies to
Dumfries, 67; displeased with JB, 31, 89-
90, 98, 100, 103, 118, 235; displeased at
JB's going to Ireland, 193, 206, 213; JB
writes for permission to go to Utrecht
with the idea of marrying Belle de
Zuylen, 143; is averse to JB's marrying
Mary Ann Boyd, 202; manner of, checks
freedom of conversation, 243; JB feels
more forbearing towards, 243; JB dis-
putes with on male and female succes*
sion, a54-56; JB sorts a mass of Session
papers belonging to, 256; JB makes a
simile on the differ ing temperaments of
himself and, 393-294, &v ako Part II of
this article
Auchinleck (Kuphemia Erskine), Lady, ist
wife of Lord Auchinleck, x xi, 2, 114/2.3,
Auchinleck, family of, ix, x, 51, 57,
Auchinleck (house and estate), JB's rever-
ence for, 103; JB visits, 5-1 7? 43-% **~
403, 178-181, 10&-193; JB plans to visit,
9*j; described, 51, 68; visited by Mm and
Mi Blair, 68; Mi** Blair is fond of,
no; JB urges Temple to visit, 74; JB
gives Temple instructions for tour of, 78;
Temple advises on additions to, 98-99;
Lord Auchinleck sets out for, 256; the
Broomholm, 55, 68, 78, 85; Hem Gate,
68; mentioned, x, acvii, 8, 55/1,5, 65, 7*-
7a,a4r85 9 g6, 177*179
AucMttltek village, 67
Auchinskeith. See Cuninghame, William
Auchline. See Campbell, James Goodlate
Austin, Adam, physician, 209
Austria, 302
Ayr, 67, 84, 94, 194-195
Ayrshire, i
Ayrshire elections, 118
B., Miss (unidentified), xvi, 185-189, 191
Bacon, Francis (Baron Verulam, Viscount
St. Albans), Advancement of Learning,
Essays, 273/7.5
Baddeley, Sophia, actress, 281
Baden-Durlach, Karl Friedrich, Margrave
of, 2
Baillie, James, law agent, 123
Baillie, William, advocate, 222
Bailye, Richard, of Lichfield, 284
Baldwin, Miss, daughter of Richard Bald-
win, 282
Baldwin, Elizabeth, wife of Richard Bald-
win, 282
Baldwin, Henry, printer, 316
Baldwin, Richard, bookseller, 282, 283
Balfour, James, of Pilrig, Philosophical Es-
says, 257
Ballantrae, 197
Ballantyne, Captain, attendant of Mrs.
Agnes Kerr, 195
Baltimore, Frederick Calvert, 6th B., A
Tour to the East, 92
Banbridge, 206
Bangor, 203
Bank of England, 289
Barclay, "Old," Quaker of London, 31
Baretti, Giuseppe Marc' Antonio, 17, 156,
*59 163, 167-168, 177, 293, 308, 316,
323-324, 325
Barglachan, 69
Barjarg, Lord. See Alva, Lord
Barnby Moor, 137, 267
Barquharrie, 69
Barry, Ann (Street) Spranger, actress, 297
Baskerville, John, printer, 283
Bath, 63, 97
Beauclerk, Topham, 325
Beckford, William, Lord Mayor, 142
Bedlay. See Roberton, Archibald
Belfast, ^04
Belford, 135
360
Index
Bell, John, author, Travels from St. Peters-
burg in Russia, 155
Bellamy, George Anne, actress, 294
Bellegarde, Francois Eugene Robert, Comte
de (also Marquis des Marches and de
Cursinge), 7-8
Benhill, a hill near Dalblair, 66
Bennett, Charles H., xxv
Bensington, 156
Benson, 285
Berenger, Richard, gentleman of horse, 274
Berkeley, John, M.D., member of the Soap-
ing Club, 281
Berwick, 3, 71, 79-80, 135
Bibiena, Maria, Raphael's betrothed, 214
Bible, 19, 26, 165, 214; Acts, 4; Corinthians,
58, 339; Greek New Testament, 44, 45,
52, 55; Ecclesiasticus, 335; Galatians,
272/1.3; John, 130; Luke, 339; Maccabees,
iSn.; Mark, 40; Matthew, 58, 255;
Micah, 339; Psalms, 305, 338; Romans,
28; Timothy, 339
Bickerstaff, Isaac, dramatist, 317, 318
Biggleswade, 139, 268
Black, Mr., in London, 160
Blackmore, Sir Richard, poet and physi-
cian, Creation, 334
Blackstone, Sir William, Commentaries,
174
Blair, Mr., hatter at Glasgow, 208
Blair, Miss, younger daughter of John Blair
of Dunskey, 198
Blair, Anne (Blair), of Adamtown, mother
of following, 38-39, 68, 71, 79, 81, 86, 98,
101, 105, 106, 109-110, 111, 126, 133, 183
Blair, Catherine, "the Heiress," later wife
of Sir William Maxwell of Monreith,
Bt, introductory account of JB's relation-
ship with, xvii, 87; described, xvii, 50-
51, 71-72; JB sees at church, 32, likes her
more and more, 38-39; visits Auchinleck,
68; JB visits, 67, 128; JB drinks toasts to,
69, 76, 80-81; JB urges Temple to meet,
74, sends letter to by Temple, 79; Temple
admires, xvii, 72, 77, 80, 81, 88, 89; is
charmed with Temple, 84, 101; JB is ad-
vised on his pursuit of by Temple, 98,
119-120; by Pringle, 107; by Lord Eglin-
ton, 117-118, 121; does not write to JB,
82-83, 94; JB receives an agreeable letter
from, 84, writes to, 92; JB is jealous of,
100, 109; will not make up quarrel with
JB, 101-102; shows indifference to JB,
102, 105, 110-112; JB hears her abused as
a jilt, 102; JB wishes to deserve her, 104;
makes up quarrel with JB, 108-109; JB
hopes to win, 114, then hears she has ac-
cepted Sir Alexander Gilmour, 115, 117-
118; does not marry Sir Alexander Gil-
mour, 182; JB feels indifferent towards,
121-122; Fullarton and JB agree to make
an end of their suits for, by direct pro-
posals, 124; JB proposes marriage, and is
rejected, xvii, 124-127; JB is glad to be
free of, 132, 179, again falls in love with,
183; her marriage and death, 183/2.7;
mentioned, 55, 75, 85-86, 91, 106, 113,
133, 271/1.1
Blair, Hugh, 41 and n.8, 42, 74, 175, 209,
Critical Dissertation on the Poems of Qs~
sian, 155
Blair, Jean, daughter of John Blair of Dun-
skey, 198
Blair, John, of Dunskey, 198
Blair, Margaret (or Janet), Catherine
Blair's Glasgow cousin, 109-110, 120
Blair, Robert, advocate, later Lord Presi-
dent, 222
Bluitt's Inn, York, 136
Bolingbroke, Frederick St. John, 2d V., 158
Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, ist V,, 144
Bosville, Elizabeth Diana, later wife of Sir
Alexander Macdonald, daughter of God-
frey Bosville, xvi, 7, 10, 35, 50, 77, 10$,
117,139, 143,249,277/1.
Bosville, Godfrey, 7, 35, 143, 167, 173, 275,
277/1., 297^6
Bosville, Julia, later Lady Dudley and
Ward, daughter of Godfrey Bosville,
277/1,
Bosville, Capt William, 168, 397, 298
Boswall, Thomas, accountant, a 18, aaa
Boswell, Anne (Irvine), wife of Claud Ir-
vine Boswell, 195/2.3
Boswell, Charles, from Jamaica, 391, aga,
294, 3*7
Boswell, Mrs. Charles, 291-1192
Boswell, Charles, illegitimate child of JB,
214/2.2
Boswell, Claud Irvine, advocate, later Lord
Balmuto, 67, 68, 116/1.8, 122, 128,
196, 209, 212, 215-216, aa*, aa6,
Index
361
Boswell, David, of Craigston, father of
Charles Boswell, 291
Boswell, David, later Thomas David,
brother of JB, described and character-
ized, 51, 62-63; letter to JB, 99-100; ap-
prenticed to a banking house, 35, 36;
drinks to Temple, 36; comments on his
father's oddities of character, 39; advises
JB against Mrs. Dodds, 42, 49; his opin-
ions of Sir Thomas Miller, 6ora.2, Capt.
James Webster, 135/2.8, Frank Stewart,
150^.1; his pride in the family hypo-
chondria, 66-67; plans to visit Auchin-
leck, 95; oath taken on the occasion of
his leaving to become a merchant in
Spain, 96-97; dines with Mrs. Wilson,
99; JB is inspirited by a letter from, 239;
mentioned, 80, 82, 83, 94, 142/1.4, 245
Boswell, Elizabeth, later 2d Lady Auchin-
leck, JB thinks an infamous woman, xi,
332, 255; inspires JB 1 essay "On Second
Marriages," 233-235; dines with JB, 209,
a 12, 214, 215, 226, with Thomas Boswall,
222; JB talks too much of Margaret
Montgomerie's faults to, 221, forbids
Margaret to communicate with, 310;
Margaret guesses she is Lord Auchin-
leek's choice, 245; JB meets driving with
his father, 230; marries Lord Auchinleck,
347-348
Boswell, Lady Elizabeth (Bruce), wife of
James Boswell, JB's grandfather, 220
Boswdl, Euphomia, daughter of JB, 231/1*4
Boswell, James, of Auchinleck, grandfather
of JB, $a, aao, 302
Boswell, Jamoi, of Balbarton, 216
BOSWELL, JAMES
[Part I, Biographical; Part II, Writ-
ings]
L Biographical* Including States of
Mind 9 Traits of Character, fadings,
Opinions* <fcc. Sketch of life to March
1766, i-a; other biographical references
prior to March 1766, 3 and! ,8, 4, 5> 6, 9
and .6, io 16, 94, S4> 35^-* ^ a 37*
45 65, 7% 70, 90.6, 91, 114, *3< *3
*6Q *$6 *% 178, i8a,
3, a68 270* a73-^74 a8i~
s*8a, 094, 95; <* Happiness and misery,
6 46, 89, 95-96, **6 aol 3 35 *77 ^83;
happy (cheerful, gay, lively, contented,
&c.), 9, 20, 24, 25, 27, 36, 43, 51, 58, 64,
69, 74, 114, 117, 124, 132, 167, 193, 195,
198, 208, 217, 218, 224, 235, 238, 239,
241, 243, 246, 247, 248, 250, 257, 264,
265, 266, 268, 272, 277, 283, 298, 307,
308, 339; calm, serious, quiet, 25, 26, 64,
118, 122, 186, 192, 193, 208, 210, 215,
226, 230, 236, 240, 246, 256, 264, 338;
easy, comfortable, 26, 39, 43, 45, 55, 64,
69, 84, 111, 125, 128, 150, 173, 183, 213,
217, 224, 236, 240, 254, 263, 272, 282,
334; wishes merely for comfort, 215; un-
happy (hurt, gloomy, melancholy, has
low spirits, &c.) 20, 25, 32, 36, 38, 42,
43, 52, 67, 68, 80, 113, 130, 132, 197, 208,
209, 210, 211, 215, 2l6, 217, 220, 221,
226, 228, 229, 230, 231, 235, 249, 277, 28l,
344; uneasy (anxious, agitated, con-
cerned), 33, 40, 42, 56, 91, 93, 100, 101,
111, 112, 113, 196, 210, 217, 221, 222,
225, 229, 231, 232, 235, 247, 249, 261,
277, 281-282, 294, 299, 303; feverish (too
high, has fiery blood), 5, 25, 38, 4** 5,
67, 90, 122, 134, 186, 229; has great force
and weakness of mind, 6; firm (hearty,
powerful), 19, 25, 27, 31, 42, 43, 45, 140,
146, 157, 222, 226; mind hardened
(strengthened), 19, 28, 42, 55, 121, 130,
*37* 154; na s sound ambition, 119; lacks
ambition, 215; has wavering mind, 40,
42, 72, 81, 214, 223, 237; asks advice, 5,
11, 33> 7> 86, 111, 112, 183, 202, 210,
213, 215, 217, 218, 225, 230, 239; weak,
40, 222; has indolent and anxious
temper, 116; indolent, listless, 31, 33, 41;
dull, 222, 230; obtuse, 214; has unhappy
(gloomy) mind and temper, 42, 103, 219,
221, 225, 231, 237, 257; angry (vexed,
outrageous), 111, 162, 200, 207, 226, 230,
232, 239, 259, 292, 297, 311, 333; ^Pa-
tient, 279, 282, 292, 308; quarrelsome,
249; hot-tempered, 335; has lively imagi-
nation (quick sensibility), 34, 42, 44, 5 1,
208, 217, 231; romantic, 5, 115, 197, 236,
277; romantic but sensible, 50; man of
enthusiasm, warmth, 239, 280, 338; free
of fancies, 115; carried by fancy, aoi,
203, 213, aao, 237; flighty, volatile, 71,
343; combines extravagance with good
sense, 39; feels self improved, 56, 122,
138, 180, 209, 264; feels calm superiority,
362
Index
40, 138; has real dignity, 112; conscious
of good qualities, 21; proud, 100, 101, 225,
232; on effects of vanity, 278; sees all
depends on frame of mind, 114; com-
pares mind to room, 137-138, to watch,
270; like Agamemnon, 5, Don Quixote,
35> 135? Mark Antony, 41, Spaniard, 20,
42, 83, old Roman, 255; Baron, prince, of
Auchinleck, 85, 180; a Sicilian swain,
180; might become a wild Indian, 239,
246; a London, playhouse buck, 287;
wants to acquire strength and fortitude,
239, to feel self more manly, 52; dissi-
pated, 68, 262; too fx*ee and rampagene-
ous, 68; talks too much at random, 104-
105; makes habit of jocularity,, 116; finds
it difficult to fix attention, 113, 230, 232;
solid and sagacious, 64; intends to be
quiet and studious, 83; has great animal
spirits, 127; has flow of spirits like cham-
pagne, 263; has strange temper and im-
petuous disposition, 1 t i ; etourdi, 1 73 ;
candid and generous, 183; has unvarying
honesty, 186; has strict regard to truth
and to honour, 259; humble and modest,
222, 232; wants to be self, 42, 89, to be
uniform, pretty man, 104; resolves to ex-
ert active powers, 43; a most various
composition, 6; made up of many oppo-
site qualities, 22; has singular mind (hu-
mour), 102, 125; thinks of his life as play
(novel), 5-6, 81, 214, 223; has variety of
genius, 44; on reflection, ideas, self-anal-
ysis, 41, 46, 114, H7 277, 280, 283, 304;
has old ideas, 113, 1*4, *2i, 130, 247,
297; has noble ideas, 289; ideas raised,
307; has enlarged mind (views), 128,
196; philosophic, 5, 7, 22, 46, 96, m-
112, 125, 189, 224, 276; thinks no phi-
losophy equal to action, 335 thinks action
necessary only as remedy to distempered
minds, 41-42; on Stoicism, 289; on con-
temporary philosophy, 293; blends phi-
losophy and raking, 140; thinks his bril-
liant qualities like embroidery on gauze,
40; fixes period for perfection, 104; hopes
period of perfect felicity in view, 180;
hopes to acquire (maintain) proper con-
duct (virtues), 96, 122, 123, 138, 217,
279; leads strange life, 31; variety of his
life (productions, <fec.) 41, 51, 65, 119;
regard for (ideas on) family, 43, 45, 51,
115, 119, 143, 222, 224, 233-235, 257,
265, 292; regard for relatives, 115, 291-
292; on family hypochondria (madness),
66-67, 231-232; on being a Scots laird,
55, 69, 174; half advocate, half country
gentleman, 46; quite in Auchinleck
style, 208; discusses entail, 254-256,
256/2.2; thinks of retiring to country, 2 to;
endeavours to acquire taste for country
affairs, 192; on Scottish characteristics,
9, 90, 112, 167, 273, 294; may bring him-
self to try to live in Scotland, 310; de-
fends Scotland, 312; finds home agree-
able, 346; a student of human nature,
21, 131, 189, 229-230, 268; on (exalted)
friendship, 6, 33, 74* $9* 182, 201, 209,
302-303; on others' approval and disap-
proval, 27, 67, 115, 129-130; awe for
great people gone, 27, 41, 114, 124; ad-
mires distinguished spirits, 33; on praise,
admiration, 39, 76; in favour of as many
attachments as possible, 115; hopes to
distinguish himself in society, country,
50, 54; feels confident in (content with)
position, 115, 116, 120-121, 139; thinks
of wild schemes, 217, 221, 230; deter-
mines to throw himself on world, 231;
understands art of pleasing, 196; wants
to make people happy, 196; thinks it
pleasant to live well with others, 266;
can make figure at times, but cannot
stand constant trial, 210, 225; feelings
about being in society, company, 57, 65,
66, 68, 122, 129, 263; on openness and
guarded conduct, 52, 55; on freedom with
strangers, 266; has blamed himself for
lack of sympathy, 324; thinks "natural"
affection results from habit or gratitude,
328; appears a better man than people
have imagined, a6o; in love (in delir-
ium, mad, in fever, fancy inflamed, de-
voted, torn with passion, <&c.) 3-5, 8-0,
20, 24, 25, 28, 3<>*3*> 3, 35, 3^, 3$ 4t
41, 42, 64, 66, $?> 7*-7* 66, 87, 100-101,
103-104, 109, no, 117, 124, ta6-i7,
134-135* *& 178* 179-180, 183, 185-
*%* *93 *9^> 197* aoo-aoa, 304, 010,
213, 214, aao, 221, 224, 229, 231, aja,
237, 248-249, 250, 259, 6i, 265, 272,
276, 277, 279, 307, 334; *lav* to (enamel-
Index
363
pated from) love, 42, 43-44, 49, 50, 108,
112, 121-122; suffers from distracted pas-
sions, 196-198, 200-202, 203-204, 206-
207, 213, 260; out of love, 45, 63; is gen-
uine lover, 5, 180; falls in love easily,
122; thinks love a fever of the mind, 102;
thinks we can be in love but once, 278;
would care little for existence if he did
not hope for everlasting love, 310; heart
tossed by waves, 213, 217, 257, like rock
among waves, 220; jealous, 20, 32, 33,
36, 109, 120, 217; inconstant, 35, 120,
178, 201; fears inconstancy, 281; con-
stant, 231, 236, 237, 242, 277, 278; thinks
women of all ages and tempers fond of
him, 202; on experience in love-making,
122; on mutual high opinion of friends
and lovers, 257; considers (anticipates,
discusses, proposes) marriage, 3, 4-5, 6,
7-8, 23-24, 35, 50-51, 65, 71-72, 82, 83,
86, 89-90, 91, 100-101, 102, 103, 104,
114, 115, 117, 124-127, 139, 143, 179-
l8o, 187-189, 200-202, 203, 210, 213,
216, 218, 221, 223, 226, 235,
39, 940-047, 249, 258, 263,
266, 270, 7* 75, 94 9B 3", 343i
347* 348-349? attributes desired (to be
avoided) in wife, 5, 6, 7, 8, 24, 102, 156,
aoi~aoa, 209, aaa, 235, 259; on Scots
(English) wife, 35, ica, ua, 115, 128,
aaa; foals (too much) like married man,
S* S3* 40; unfit for (apprehensive
marriage, 5, 8a, 87, 178, 215, 226,
330, 239; on bachelors and married
, as; thinks an insult to first wife to
marry a second, 230, 346, ",ia; on adul-
tery, 4 50, 153, 155-1?!' 5 on chastity
and female virtue* 156; on fatherhood,
a34, 63, ai4tt,a, aaa 270; has (ap-
proaches, gives up) soxi il relations, 32,
37, 76, 118, lai, t3 *!'! "9, 140, 143,
*43i i$8 *8o f 076; ntwei 'lobauches an in-
nocent girl 9 3; effect of cv.sual intercourse
on, tai; teols himself a rake, 123; con-
fusod and debilitated, 3--; despicable for
having been in sink of vice, 158-159;
pledgts to give up immorality, 165, 180;
catches (escapes, suffers from, is treated
Cor) vt unreal disease, 37, 40, 43, 51,
80, 8a-S3 91, 94* 96 106, na *t7,
163, 165, a*o t aa6,
of)
230, 236, 241, 249-250, 254, 256, 257, 264,
265, 269, 286-290, 291, 294, 297, 298,
305, 3*7 and 72.9; opinions on venereal
disease, 56, 96; health, 9, 55, 82-83, 86,
87, 123, 194, 198, 208, 211, 213, 217, 344,
345* 34$; on medicines, 269-270, 327; ad-
mitted to bar, 1 1 ; reactions to law as pro-
fession, xii, 11, 14, 25, 30, 43, 54, 116,
124, 147, 210, 215, 222, 223, 239, 245,
264, 283, 298, 300; busy (labours, works
hard) at law, 24, 26, 27, 30, 33, 41, 42, 54,
$7, 73, 75-76, 115, 116, 119, 122, 124, 215,
218, 224, 232, 241, 245; legal cases, 12,
20, 25, 30, 31, 41, 51, 56, 57, 58, 65, 70,
113, 115, 116, 117, 118, 123, 129, 173,
*93? *95 222-223, 241 (see also under
proper names); speaks in court, 25, 33,
11 9? 235; on lords of session as jury, 144;
discourses on law and courts, 154; thinks
filiation a great principle of law, 171-
172, 209; wonders about Scotch counsel
(himself) going to English bar, 174, 223;
thinks English justice quick and fair,
289 j interest in Corsica (see under Cor-
sica and Paoli and in Part II of this arti-
cle under Account of Corsica); religious
feelings and opinions, 21-22, 28, 41, 42,
45, 52, 112, 114, 122, 168, 209, 214, 231,
238, 239, 242, 255-256, 275, 279, 282,
294; sketch of religious development,
138; argues for metempsychosis, 58-59;
on death and funerals, 60, 65, 130-131,
302, 332; on ghosts, 52, 265; on future
life of brutes, 153; wishes to discuss fate
and free will, 316, 331; attends (does not
attend) divine services, 19, 27-28, 35, 44,
45, 52, 55, 64, 68, 124, 136, 151, 231, 238,
242, 248, 272, 305* 339; approves (disap-
proves) of sermon, 28, 151, 272, 339;
thinks Church-of-England worship pref-
erable to Presbyterian, 279; believes in
vows, 14, 16-17; thinks evil spirits per-
mitted to torment mankind, 230; has ex-
traordinary struggle with evil, 17; thinks
general but not particular moral events
may be prognosticated, 303; on having
Eoman Catholic servant, 330; on his
fame, importance, 112, 129, 213, 268,
283, 284; on former respectful and mys-
terious notions of authors, 130; on fume
effects of being author, a68; reaction to
364
Index
newspaper fame, 272; promises not to de-
scribe himself in newspapers, 278; able
to revive whole scene from single hint,
115; thinks an author should never cor-
rect work, 167; cannot write as he would
speak, 220; amazed how much of senti-
ment consists in expression, 275; observes
how imperfectly words preserve ideas,
292-293; reads, 165, 167, 214, 221; has
read very little, 304; on forgetting books,
167; appears formed man of learning,
115; has only superficial knowledge, 225;
feels pleasures of taste to be exquisite,
214; as literary critic, 148-149, 151, 214,
256-257, 275, 308, 334; as literary pa-
tron, 275, 279, 285; on liberty of press,
166; on contribution of books to forming
wit or philosopher, 214-215; on picking
up knowledge from others, 264; has full
feeling of London society of wits, 308; at-
tends Shakespeare Jubilee, 269, 272, 274,
277, 278, 279-285 (see also under Shake-
speare and Stratford upon Avon); on
subordination, 167; is wrong to be neu-
tral in Ayrshire election, 118; thinks it
curious Chinese should know minutiae of
British politics, 285; would like to be
elected to Parliament, 299-300; suggests
electing only bad men to Parliament,
300; against petitioners, 288; has pleas-
ing thoughts of British power, 290; has
monarchical genius, 302; speaks at debat-
ing society, 215, 240; exercise, sports, 9,
68-69; attends plays (concert, opera),
109, 115, 121, 131-132, 136, 249, 251,
263, 280, 322 and n,3; attends balls, 128,
129, 187, 236, 237, 282, 283; plays (does
not play) cards, 113, 178, 203, 216, 230,
249; plays at drawing straws and at odds
and evens, 135; plays dams, 19; drinks
(is sober), 20, 31, 37, 38 and n.i, 65, 68,
69, 76, 80-81, 118-119, 121, 123, 124,
129, 135, 139, 159,, 188, 193-194, 197, 200,
203, 208, 212, 213, 224, 246, 249, 251,
297; on effects of intoxication, 194, 250;
sober, amiable, polite, 277; reads aloud,
19, 44, 45, 52, 55, 330; sings, 27, 36, 129,
203, feels like singing Te Deum> 302;
comments on weather, 19, 42, 60, 113,
114, 264; travels by coach (post-chaise,
%), 19, 60, 68, 101, 105, 116, 134-139,
145-146, 156-158, 161, 173, 204-206, 208,
223, 224, 230, 235, 236, 238, 243, 246,
247, 250, 263, 264-268, 274-275, 276, 278,
279, 280, 285-286, 297, 306, 343; on past
and prospective travels, 45-46, 169, 223,
232; thinks it wrong to travel on Sunday,
285; afraid both of being robbed and
overturned in coach, 275; thinks journeys
always start in confusion, 134; compares
leave-taking to hanging, 134, to dying,
264, 265; pleased by people in North of
England, 136; charmed with Irish tone,
200, to hear English prettily spoken,
265; likes moving from lodging to lodg-
ing, 304; financial affairs (transactions),
24 and 72.8, 33, 41, 55, 5&~57, 57^-3, 67,
140, 222, 236, 237, 240, 241, 260, 284,
303, 304; on economy, 43, 216, 264;
shudders to think of consequences of debt,
222; dress, 101, 136, 148, 187, 264, 280,
302, 303, 347; contrasts his present state
with past, 5, 139, 152, 156, 249, 270; de-
fends his Latin, 16; much rusted in Ger-
man, 243, in Italian, 301; thinks of sui~
cide, 42; asks if suicide is a crime, 321;
visits prison, 26, 27-28, 36, 130-131, car-
pet manufactory and tannery, 65, coal-
work, 69, assembly room, 137, chapel,
203 (see also under proper names) ; visits
and describes digging machine, 157-158;
attends executions, 131, 140-141, 323 and
n.6, election poll, 142, horse races, 236,
238; looks at medals, 68; wants own
house, 79; looks for dog, 142; has (loves)
adventures, 168, 180, 226; leads mob,
t8grz.8, 190, 191 and n.a; love of show,
194-195, 2 8; cries, 197; could almost
have criecl, 25; resigned to fate, a 16;
thinks poverl * and obscurity would be
easy for him, *m; plays jokes, 148, 267;
puns, 250, 25 ; bans mots, 371, 295; en-
tertained by i msense, 263; loses and re-
covers pocket " )ok, a/6, 379; not tied to
ordinary nil*"* 1 and ceremonies, &?g; in-
cognito, 280; is sketched, painted, 3178,
288-289, 30.<, sat; takes warm bath,
292; experiments on finding way, ag$;
wants Italian-speaking servant, 304; has
thought of retiring to desert, 312; on con-
formity and singularity, 8; on effects of
age and experience, 11, 51, 55; wonders
Index
365
why we suffer from what no longer ex-
ists, 33; on savage and civilized life, 22,
311; sympathizes more with poor than
genteel, 26, 118/2.4; sees contemptible
people vain of being satirical, 39; feels
existence unreal, 39-40; sees everything
is only practice, 52; thinks impetuosity
better than bashfulness, 69; finds appear-
ances often deceitful, 84, 194; resolves to
take men as he finds them, 114; sees no
difficulties in life, 114; on preconceptions
of future, 68; on remorse, 80 ; talks on
fear, 3130; thinks eating, drinking, and
sleeping important, 136; on suicide of
scorpion, 153-154; finds success fascinat-
ing, 156-157; on shop sign, 205; on epi-
taph, 205; on churchyard, 205-206; ad-
mires the military, 208, 216; sees mili-
tary review, 229; on effects of variety of
objects, ao8, 297; compares a man too
rich to a man too fat, 222; thinks it curi-
ous how pleasing variety is, 238; feels all
important meetings awkward, 261; on
joy of English breakfast, 267; compares
breakfast to fortification, 306; on activity
and retirement, 284; on true English
oddity, a 86; on music, 296; London his
amusement, 298; thinks Chinese sounds
like tinkling of bell, 299; asks if promise
to highwayman should be kept, 321;
would have pleasure in teaching chil-
dren, 328; on tenants and landlords, 329;
Coraican Boswell, aoa
II. Writings, Mainly between i?&6 and
jf7$^, i. Account of Corsica, &c,, 1768,
Walpole first suggests writing* 132; pur-
pose of, xv; translations of, xv, a 86; in-
Hiwnco of, xv; JB"$ little monument, xv,
ioB; JB hopes to arous interest in Cor-
mcn through, it; JB intends to write, 10,
3*S; JB collects material for, ia~i3, 54;
JB obliged to write like gotist in, 11; JB
undecided about title and epigraph for,
li; JB write*, 44 45* 4$, 47> 5* 55* 56,
57* 3& 63, 70, 88; Johnson's opinion of,
i$t *45 *4ft *^4 166, 287-388; Hume
agrees to manage publication of, 28, 35*
46; Prlnglo advises on, 30, 107-108;
described to Chatham, 53-541 Hailes as
critic of, 13-14* 73 75, 93* *4; Temple
to reviiet 73, 91, 9$"-94> 98; Temple's
opinion of, 75, 100, 103, 104, 108; Gray's
opinion of asked, 11, 91; Gray's comment
on, 91/7.8; Wyvill as critic of, 84, 91, 93-
94; JB thinks lie is writing for Europe,
45; writing o elevates JB's soul, 51;
dates of completion and publication pre-
dicted, 46, 51; JB revises, $3, 90; JB sells
to Dilly, 83, 85; printing of, 88, 105; JB
hopes for applause from, 90; JB thinks
Journal most valuable part of, 91; JB
thinks will give him character to support,
104, will do him credit, 112; on publica-
tion of, 129, 133; has many curious read-
ers, 137; JB honoured and flattered for,
141, 163, 16572.1, 207, 268; JB's language
in, slightly altered by Dr. Mayo, 161;
praised, 134, 137, 144, 151, 15972.6, 161,
166, 223-224, 299, 308, 30972.9, 335; at-
tacked, 15272.3, 15977.6, 168/1.1; JB criti-
cized for method of writing, 166 and n.6;
Irish edition of, 180; mentioned, xiv/2.4,
18/2.1, 119, 122, 138, 14472.2, 152, 167,
205, 30072.2
2. Journal, bibliography of, xx-xxi,
xxii-xxiii, xxiv, xxv, 19, 69, 160, 163,
206, 308; JB writes, 304, 308, 317; JB
records ideas and scenes imperfectly in,
292; JB finds it impossible to record life
fully in, 140, 242; JB reads London Jour-
nal aloud, 32; Holland Journal lost, 64;
quoted or referred to in footnotes on pp.
20, 31, 32, 38, 113, 128, 141, 143, 144, 158,
161, 162, 208, 231, 263, 275, 276; men-
tioned, 1,73,177
3. Memoranda and Notes, bibliography
of, sod, xxii-xxiii, xxiv, xxv, 163, 308;
extracts quoted in text on pp. 158, 160,
163, 165-174,308-309,316-317, 321-322;
quoted or referred to in footnotes on pp.
158, 274* 294, 312, 314; mentioned, 159
4. Letters, bibliography of, xxii, xxiii,
xxiv; JB writes, 31, 264; JB writes ex-
travagant epistle, 5; JB thinks Ms letters
genuine effusions, 6; JB writes strange
sultanic letter, 100-101; specimens ap-
pear in the text on pp. 3-11, 16-18, 21-
24, 31-32, 32-35, 36~38, 45-46, 4^-5*>
52-54, 71-72, 73-74, 75-76, 80-81, 82-84,
85-87, 89-92, 93-94, 95-06, 100-105,
108-112, 125-128, 132, 164^165, 178-189,
192-193, 200-202, 207-208, 211-213, 220-
3 66
Index
221, 232, 236-238, 257-262, 277-279, 309-
311, 338-339, 347; mentioned, 69, 73
5. Periodical items: in London Chron-
icle, bibliography of, xxiii; purpose of,
xiv-xv, 13; specimens printed on pp. 20-
21, 44~45, 59-^0? 66, 70-71, 92-93, 94-
95, 139/2.8, 323/2.6; others quoted or sum-
marized^ 69-70, 160, 306/2.6} in Edin-
burgh Advertiser, 70; in Public Adver-
tiser, 14172.2, 207, 281; in Scots Maga-
zine, 55; in London Magazine, 28172.9,
28872.7, JB buys share of, 316 and 72.7
6. Writings connected with the law:
De supellectile legata, 1766, 11, 14, 16,
33; The Hamilton Cause, 1767, 27 and
72.5, 36; The Douglas Cause, 1767, 67;
Dorando, 1767, xiii, 56, 57, 63, 70, 85, 90,
91, 94-95; The Essence of the Douglas
Cause, 1767, 88, 96, 123, 149, 238; Letters
of Lady Jane Douglas, 1767, 88, 9672.3;
Consultation Boole, xxii, 17372.2; legal
papers, xxii, 20, 41, 51, 56, 57, 113, 118,
238-239; JB writes (on writing of) legal
papers, 30, 31, 32, 165, 250, 256
7. Verses other than those connected
with the Douglas cause: Prologue at the
Opening of the Theatre Royal, 1767,
11572.6, 172 and 72.8; Crambo Song, 1768,
pointed, 127-128; Verses in the Character
of a Corsican, 1769, 282-283, 284, printed,
Appendix A; A Matrimonial Thought.,
1769, printed, 343; Ten-Lines-a-Day
Verses, quoted, 160/2.9
8. Miscellaneous, 1766-1769: Register
of Letters, xxii; Boswell of AucMnleck,
57, 58; Memorabilia, 1767, xxii, extracts
printed, 39-40; Instructions for Mr. Tem-
ple on his Tour, printed, 78-79; Agree-
ment between James Boswell and Mar-
garet Montgomerie, 1768, printed, 177-
178; On Second Marriages, printed, 233-
235; Marriage Contract, printed, 348-349
9. Works projected, 1766-1769: Com-
edy, 139; Collection of Scottish Antiqui-
ties, 322; Scots Dictionary, 322
10. Other works: Letters Between the
Honourable Andrew Erskine and James
Boswell, Esq., 1763, 20/2.6, 134; British
Essays in Favour of the Brave Corsicans,
1769, xv, 163; The Mypochondriack,
1777-1783, 14171.2, 316/2,7; Journal of a
Tour to the Hebrides., 1785, 143/2.7; 165
w.i; Life of Samuel Johnson, 1791, JB on
recording materials of, 175; quoted or
referred to in the footnotes on pp. 14, 16,
150, 164, 166, 238, 287, 305, 318, 321, 326,
332, 333, 334, 342; mentioned, xxiv; bib-
liography of MS of, xxi-xxii, 175/2.6; ex-
tracts from MS of, printed in text on pp.
175-177, 3H-316, 317-321, 322-324,
342-343; mentioned, xxiii; Memoirs in
European Magazine, 1791, 172/2.8, 221
/2.6; Letters of James Boswell Addressed
to the Rev, W, J. Temple, 1857, xxiii,
23/2,4, 78/2.7; Boswelliana, 1874, xii, 295
/2.2; Letters of James Boswell, 1924, xxiii,
xxiv, 21/2.2, 52/2.7, 132/2.2, 165/2/2.2 and 3,
207/2.2; 309/2.9; Private Papers of James
Boswell, 1928-1934; xxiii, xxiv; Bos-
weWs London Journal, 1762-1763, 1950,
1/z.i, 214/2.2, 341/2.6; Boswell in Holland,
1952, 2/2.2, 3/2.6, 7/2.7; Boswell on the
Grand Tour: Germany and Switzerland,
1953, 2/2.3, 45^/2.2 and 3; Boswell on the
Grand. Tour: Italy, Corsica*, and France,
1955, quoted or referred to in the foot-
notes on pp. xiv, 2, 7, 10, 34, 113, 132
Boswell, James, the younger, son of JB, xx
Boswell, John, 4th Laird of Auchinleck, 29 1
Boswell, John, of Balmuto, 348
Boswell, John, M.D., JB walks with, 25,
calls on, 129, 131, drinks tea with, 209;
calls on JB, 263; thinks Temple a good
quiet philosopher, 83; visits Prcstonilold
with JB, 116-117; has ideas of an exalted
match for JB, aio; curious to know de-
tails of JB's courtship, 259; sups at the
Duchess of Douglas's, 242; discusses Lord
Auchinleck's remarriage and the family
madness with JB, 231; gives JB a letter
of introduction to Dr. Kennedy, 270;
mentioned, 43/2.2, 263, 346
Boswell, John, father of John Boswell of
Knockroon, 291
Boswell, John, of Knockroon, 56* 123* 291
Boswell, Lieut, John, brother of JB, 135,
192, ao8, aio, 213, 222, 229, 231/1,4, 238,
241, 243, 245, 254
Boswell, Margaret (Henderson), wife of
John Boswell of Balmuto^ 1 16
Boswell, Mungo, of Craigston, api
Index
367
Boswell, Robert, W.S., son of Dr. John
Boswell, 43, 209, 215, 310, 346
Boswell, Sally, JB's illegitimate daughter,
112, 133, 214^,2
Boswell, Sibella (Sandeman), wife of
Robert Boswell, 209
Boswell, Thomas, ist Laird of Auchinleck,
68.g, 254, 292
Both well, Elcanora, sister (actually daugh-
ter) of Henry Bothwell, Lord Holyrood-
housc, 122
Bothwell Castle, 95, 217, 223-224, 226, 347
Bouhours, Dominique, French author and
critic, Manidre de bien pen$er y 320
Boulogne, France, xxii
Bous field, Mr., 159
Boyd, two Misses, younger daughters of
Hugh Boyd, 198
Boyd, Charles, counsellor, father of Mary
Ann Boyd, 179-180, 202, 206
Boyd, Mrs. Charles, wife of preceding, 1 79-
180, 206, 262
Boyd, Hugh, collector, 198-200, 302/2.4, 203,
ao8, 212, 245, 262
Boyd, Jane ("Aunt"), wife of preceding,
179"- l8o, 183, 198, 200, 204-206, 208, 212,
345, 6a
Boyd, Mary Ann, daughter of Charles
Boyd, introductory account of, xvii; JB
describes his meeting with, 179-180; JB
thinks of, while feeling in love with B.,
186; is reminded of, 187/2.4; JB's love for
revives, 193, declines, 196; JB writes of
his conflict in choosing between her and
Margaret Montgomery, 200-202; Lord
Atu'.hitilt'ck averse to JB's marrying, 202;
JB deckles on manner of behaving to-
wards, ao6; JB recounts his behaviour to,
a*a-iit3, 259; JB again considers marry-
ing, a 14; Lord Monboddo at first favours
JB* marrying, a 15; mentioned, 183, 197,
Boyd, Ponfionby, son ol Hugh Boyd, 198-
aoo, aoa-403
Bramhall, John, D*D., Archbishop of
Armagh, A Defence of the True Liberty
of Human Actions, 331
Brontford 148, 158
Briscoe Mr,, 305
Bristol, Augustus John Hervey, 3d K of,
216/2.7
British Museum, 175^.6
Brookes, Kitty, prostitute, 143, 158
Brooks, Cleanth, xxvi
Brown, Mrs., beneficiary in Lord Eglinton's
will, 341
Brown, Charles, advocate, 217, 222
Brown, James, JB's clerk, 45, 52, 56, 57,
232, 236
Brown, John, feuar of Capt. Montgomerie-
Cuninghame, 194
Brown, Rev. Robert, at Utrecht, 64, 143
Brown v. Parr, cause of, 193
Bruce, Alexander, son of James Bruce, 97
Bruce, Andrew, son of James Bruce, 97
PBruce, Euphemia, the gardener's daughter,
xvi, xxiii, 3-5, 8, 11, 50, 102, 25272.7
Bruce, James, overseer at Auchinleck, 59,
64, 65, 68, 69, 78, 97, 98, 100, 106, 192,
245, 253
Bruce, James, son of James Bruce, 97
Bruce, John, Lord Auchinleck's major-
domo, 43
Bruce, John, son of James Bruce, 97
Bruce, Rev. Robert, 44
Brunswick- Wolfenbuttel, Ludwig Ernst, D.
of, 45
Bryce, Mr., client of JB, 25
Buchanan, George, author, 44, 325
Buckingham, George Villiers, 5th D, of,
The Rehearsal, 13
Burgh, James, author, 167, 300; Crito, The
Dignity of Human Nature., 161
Burke, Edmund, 325; Of the Sublime and
Beautiful., 320
Burnaby, Rev. Andrew, 122, 301, 306, 308;
Journal of a Tour to Corsica, 13, 30171.7
Rumet, Gilbert, Bishop of Salisbury, His-
tory of My Own Time, i 1
Burns, Robert, 55^.3, ii/n.1, 12272.2, i&$n.;
Letters of Robert Burns, 117/2.1, 18572.
Burrow, Sir James, barrister, 1 74
Bute, John Crichton-Stuart, 2d M. of, 173
Bute, John Stuart, 3d E. of, 2, 1471,9, 159^.4,
21 in. 7, 28672.1
Bute, John Stuart, 4th E. and ist M. of. See
Mountstuart
Butter, Rev. Mr., 124
Butterfield, John, suspected malefactor, a6n.
368
Index
Byng, Admiral John, 304
Byrom, John, poet, Colin and Phoebe, 304
Gaboon, Herbert, xxvl
Cairncross cause, 41
Cairaie, John, M.D., 214, 241, 256, 263
Caithness memorial, 20
Caldwell, Rev. Hugh, 202, 203
Caldwell, Rev. Samuel, friend of JB at The
Hague, 202
Caledonian Mercury, Son.
Cambridge University, 3/2.5, 10/2.2
Camden, Charles Pratt, ist.B., later ist E.,
Lord Chancellor, 222
Campbell, Mr. son of John Campbell, au-
thor, 305
Campbell, Anne, daughter of John Camp-
bell. See Grant, Anne
Campbell, Archibald, author, 168; Lezi-
phanes, 151
Campbell, Bruce, of Barquharrie, cousin of
JB, 65/1,, 68, 219
Campbell, Colin, advocate, 290-291
Campbell, Eleanora (Ker), wife of Walter
Campbell, 236
Campbell, Elizabeth (Vobe), wife of John
Campbell the author, 305
Campbell, George, of Airies, collector of
customs at Portpatrick, 198
Campbell, Helen (Macredie), ist wife of
James Campbell of Treesbank, 217^.1
Campbell, Hugh, of Mayfleld, 58, 219, 336
Campbell, Hay, later Sir Hay, Bt and Lord
President, 129
Campbell, Sir James, of Auchinbreck, Bt.,
222
Campbell, James, of Treesbank, 55, 64, 193,
217/2.1,219,336
Campbell, James Goodlate, of Auchline, 214
Campbell, John, LL,D., author, 295, 305-
306; Lives of the Admirals, 295
Campbell, John, of Skerrington, 241
Campbell, Mary (Montgomerie) , ad wife
of James Campbell of Treesbank, 55/1.6,
193,194,219,261,345
Campbell, Mungo, of Netherplace, 340
Campbell, Mungo, convicted murderer, 337,
340, 342
Campbell, Robert, of Ashnish, 249
Campbell, Walter, of Shawfield, 121, 236
Cannan, Horatius, of Barlay, 241, 263
Capper, Peter, 215
Capraja, island, 52, 60, 66
Careless, Mr., London, 298, 300
Careless, Mrs., wife of preceding, 298, 303-
304
Carlyle, Thomas, History of Friedrich H,
251/2.5
Carrickfergus, castle of, 187, 203
Carron Ironworks, Stirlingshire, 181
Carruthers, John, of Holmains, 123
Cartagena, Spanish possession, 291
Carter, Elizabeth, translator of Epictetus,
289
Caruthers, Mr., of Hardriggs, 123
Gary, Gen. George, son of 6th V. Falkland,
229
Cascade of Velino, Terni, Italy, 66
Cassillis, John Kennedy, 8th E. of, 198, 256
Castlereagh, Robert Stewart, V. (also 2d
M. of Londonderxy), 203/2.6
Cathcart, Charles Cathcart, 8th Lord, 291
Cathcart, Charles Schaw Cathcart, gth Lord,
135
Cathcart, Sir John, of Killochan Castle, Bt,,
122, 123
Cathcart (Margaret Hamilton) , Lady, wife
of Sir John, 122, 219
Cauvin, Louis, French teacher, 215
Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de, Dow
Quixote., 45
Chadwick, Sir Andrew, Kt ? 383-284
Chalmer, John Muir, W.S., 115, 123, 245,
264
Chalmers, James, of Fingland, 58
Chalmers, Robert, W.S,, 186
Chambers, Fanny (Wilton), wife of Robert
Chambers, 146/1.6, 159^.7
Chambers, Robert, later Sir Robert, 146-
149, 152-156, 275, 308
Chancellor. See Camden, Charles Pratt,
ist B,
Chapel House, 276, 285
Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and King
of Spain, 315
Charles Emmanuel III, King of Sardinia
and D. of Savoy, 7
Charlotte Sophia, Queen of George III,
Charriere, Charles Emmanuel de,
Chatham, William Pitt, ist E. of, letters
from JB, 16, 17-18, 5-54; letter to JB,
Index
2i'&-a7; xiii, 2, 10, 30, 35, 16871.3; Cor-
respondencc of William Pitt, Earl of
Chatham^ 5272..
CMdester, Harriet, xxvi
Choiseul- Slain ville, tienne Francois, Due
do, statesman, 172/2.9
Church of England, 279, 330
Church of Ireland, 203
Church of Scotland, 58^.6, 114/2.4, 279, 330
Churchill, Charles, poet, 177
Gibber, Colley, actor and dramatist, Apol-
ogy, 322; The Refusal, 327; and Sir John
Vanbrugh, The Provoked Husband., 148,
149/2,7, 263
Gibber, Susannah Maria (Arno), actress,
wife of Thoophilus Gibber, 322
Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 49, 94/1.4; De fini-
bus 9 280; De legibus, 273; De orator, 273
Clarendon, Edward Hyde, ist E. of, states-
man and historian, 314
Clarke, Samuel, D.D,, 166, 331
Claxton, John, F.S.A., 10, 37, 134
Clayton, Mr*, friend of the Dillys, 141
Cleland, John, author, Fanny Hill, or ?
Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure^ 316
Clement XIII, Pope, 7
Clerk, Gen. Robert, 143
Clifford, James L<, xxv
Give, Robert Olive, ist B., 173/1.5, 371
Glume, Capt. Alexander, 304; The Amer-
ican Traveller) 297
Coat-black /ofa?, Tha, song, 139
(George Brown), Lord, 36, lai,
369
Cochrano, Basil, Commissioner of Customs,
JB's groat-undo, 43, a to, 230, 239, a40 9
Cochrane, Maj, Charles, SOB of 8th E. of
Dundtmald, a 16
Cochrano, Hon. James Atholl, son of 8th E.
of Dundonald, 153, 363
Cockbum, Alicia or Alison (Rutherford),
authoress, taa
Cockburn, Archibald, Sherif-depute of
Midlothian, 19 in, a
Cockbum, George, later George Haldane,
fdA
Coiltfiold, 68
o f William, D.D*, 146
Richard d xxv
Cole$worth f 1 38^.3
Collingwood, Mrs., aunt to Mrs. Temple,
265
Colman, George, the elder, dramatist and
theatre manager, xix, 283, 285, 299, 308
Colquhoun, James, later Sir James, ad-
vocate, 222, 243
Colville, Elizabeth (Erskine), Lady, wife
of following, 31, 40, 42, 236
Colville of Culross, Alexander Colville, 7th
Lord, 3172.9
Colville family, 203
Congreve, William, 308, 325; The Mourn-
ing Bride, 318, 319
Connell, Rev. James, 63
Constantinople, 92
Conway, Henry Seymour, politician, 34
Corneille, Pierre, dramatist, 273
Cornell, W. Kenneth, xxvi
Cornhill, 265
Corsehill, 194
Corsica, JB*s visit to, xiv, 2, 46; introduc-
tory account of JB's efforts in behalf of,
xiv~xv, 87-88; JB keeps before the public
eye with newspaper items, xxiii, 13, 59-
60, 70, sends artillery for, 180-181, raises
money for, 181, 203/2.6, 204-205; JB dis-
cusses with SJ, xii, who disapproves of
JB's interest in, 15, 164-165, 314; JB
pleads its cause with Pitt, 2, 16-18, who
cannot see Great Britain interfering in
the affairs of, 27, 53; British Government
sends arms to, xv; JB writes to about, or
talks of with Rev. Hugh Blair, 41, Vol-
taire, 46, Sir George Armytage, 136-137,
Lord Lyttelton, 163, Lord Mansfield,
172, Margaret Montgomerie, 196,
Charles Boswell, 291; JB sees remarks
on, in Graevius, 19, believes Sir James
Stewart's Political Economy injurious to,
93; Capraja taken, 52, 66; Proclamation
of 1763, 53; toast to Miss Corsica, 121;
its cause in great danger, 163; conquered
by the French, June 1769, xv, 210, an,
215, 230, 305, 351-352; mentioned in
JB's marriage contract, 348; mentioned,
10-11, 13-14, 336
Corsica** Club, London, 160, 166
Corte, University of , Corsica, 112
Cosh, sea-captain, 198
Coulter, William, Lord Provost of Edin-
burgh, 26371.9
370
CowhilL See Maxwell, Charles
Craftsman, periodical, 144
Craigbuy, 198
Graigie, Robert (Lord Glendoick), Lord
President, 243
Craufurd, Archibald, of Ardmillan, 196
Craufurd, John, of Doonside, 195
Craufurd, Marion (Hay), mother of Archi-
bald Craufurd of Ardmillan, 196
Craufurd, Peter (? Patrick Craufurd of
Auchenames) , 186
Crawford, Jean (Hamilton), Countess of,
115, 122, 123, 129-131, i95-4 9 217, 219,
231-232, 261
Critical Review, 144
Cromartie, Lady Augusta of. See Murray,
Lady Augusta (Mackenzie)
Crookshanks, Charles, steward to Lord
Eglinton, 337, 341
Crosbie, Andrew, advocate, 12, 119, 129,
215
Cullen, Robert, later Lord Cullen, 122
Gumming, Tom, the fighting Quaker, 161
Cumnock, 45/2.9, 52, 56, 65
Cuninghame, Miss, of Auchinskeith, 195
Cuninghame, Alexander, son of Capt. Alex-
ander Montgomerie-Cuninghame, 193,
247
Cuninghame, Annie, daughter of Capt,
Alex. Montgomerie-Cuninghame, 193
Cuninghame, David, later Sir David Mont-
gomerie-Cuninghame of Corsehill, Bt.,
193
Cuninghame, George Augustus, 194
Cuninghame, Walter, later Sir Walter
Montgomerie-Cuninghame of Corsehill,
Bt, 193
Cuninghame, William, of Auchinskeith,
*95
Gust, Sir John, Bt., 267
Dagge, John, solicitor, 283
Dalblair, estate of, 55, 6, &
Dalemame, G. C., embroiderer, 271
Dalhousie, George Ramsay, 8th E. of, 115
Dalrymple, family, 144
Dance, William, musician, 296
Darlington, Henry Vane, ad E. of, 266-267
Darlington (place), 266
Davidson, John, W. S,, 129
Index
Davies, Thomas, actor and bookseller, 159,
175-177 5 274, 299, 316, 317, 319, 324
Dawson, Thomas, M.D., 287, 289-^90, 297,
304
Dean, Mr., surgeon, 249
Delaval, Sir Francis, 266
Demosthenes, 10
Dempster, George, letter to JB, 190-192;
letters from JB, 185-189, 212-213; his
humorous comment on Miss Blair's con-
nections, 126; his plea of privilege, 173-
174; JB pleads his cause with B., 185-
189; his pursuit of B., 190-192; discusses
JB's matrimonial doubts, 225; JB re-
grets his absence, 225; discusses with JB
plans for marrying Miss Montgomorie,
245, 272, fleeing from one's country,
246, newspaper fame, 272, the "sarcasti-
cal temper" of the Scots, 294, JB's plan
of life, 300; greets JB in London, 270;
does not regret John Home's foppery,
286; reads Carter's Epictetus and praises
Stoicism, 289; reassures JB on his not re-
ceiving a letter from Margaret Mont
gomerie, 299-300; mentioned, 121, 215,
237, 262, 273, 278, 290, 293, 298, 303,
304, 344
Dempster, Jeanie, sister of George Demp-
ster, 271
Denis, Mme. Louise (Mignot), niece of
Voltaire, 46
Derrick, Samuel, author, 270
Devonshire, xxi, 73, 263/^,2, 339
Dick, Sir Alexander, of Prestonfield, Bt,,
5, 3<>, 74, 77, 83, 87, 95, 117, 132, aoyn.a,
aio, 212, 229, 230, 309^,9
Dick, Sir John, Bt., British Consul at Leg-
horn, 13, 17, 52, 140, 142, 159. i6, *%
168, 224
Dickie, Matthew, law agent, 43, 55,
Dickson, Captain, 265
Dilly, Charles, bookseller, 83/2.7, 141, 167,
a68, 291, 304
Dilly, Edward, bookseller, purchases Ac-
count of Cornea, 83, announces it is
ready for publication, 129; prevented by
JB from making alterations in Cornea,
161; JB finds French translations of C0r
sica with, 286; receives JB cordially, 14*,
a68; JB drinks tea with, 149, 167, dines
Index
with, 287, 297, 299; introduces JB to
minor writers, 161; talks of Robertson's
book and the Trade, 167; invites JB to
live in his house while in London, 269,
296; helps JB collect costume for Strat-
ford Jubilee, 274; JB visits Bank of Eng-
land with, 289; visits Samuel Vaughan
with JB, 389-290; provides JB with
sword, 303; mentioned, 88, 108, ta8, 160
rt.O, '238,31(5
Dilly, Manila, sister to Charles and Ed-
ward I) illy, 14,1
Diodorus Siculus, Historical Library, 48
Dodds (or Dcxkl), woollen-draper at New-
castle, a6$~a68
Dodds, Mrs,, characterized as Circe, xvi, 43,
50, as Lais, 44, as Chloe, 48/7.6; described,
8-9 54, ,$ 44, $<>; <*! nole on JB ' 8 en-
tanglement with, u; follows JB to Edin-
burgh, 19 and n,5; reproves JB for drink-
ing, ao; JB umclrt jealous of, ao, 33,, 35 3^
but defends faithfulness of, 34, 87; quar-
rels and reconciliations with JB, a/>, a 7,
31, 3<i, 40; JB takes a house for, 5; JB
vtsifs, a(5 -27, i,i % 3<>, 41, 114, u#, tsio;
visits JB* 40; delights JB by appearing in
black, aH, |o; JB hears scatulal of, 3, 4U,
*$*5; JB in urged to break with, by Er.slune
and Grange, 33, by David Boswell, 4$,
by Temple, 47 '48, 105 tdi; JB gives
mime in Full, 351; gives up house, 36*; do*
termines to lettw JB, 0; forgives JB'
drunken infidelity, 37; is affected by JB*s
bad conduct, ,|S; JB rtwlvi>s to give up,
43, breaks off with, 41, 4fHf iBo, re-
joice* that he in free of, 41-4*$; her prt>g
nancy, (>| ya toa; JB fcnru he has in*
telitd, Ho 81, ls hopes thii h*w <nicapod
inf(K*tinn, 8u Teiwplf! think ill of, 8a,
t6, lidittifffi JBV huxwunity towards, 88;
Pringle ndviw* JB to mako amends to,
by mon<\v v $074 boars JB*s dnughtur,
Sally, *u; JB rtnww.i gallantry with,
tav ia4i bwlUwru h is again pregnant,
i20{ JB snul 10 to, through Johnston,
i<W JB connultt} about, with Grange* and
t)r, CaimiCt di$ 314; mentioned, 51, 74,
Donaldson, John, bookseller, brother of
Alexander Donaldson, 298
Donaldson, John, painter, 278-279, 321
Doncgall, Arthur Chichester, 5th E. of, 204
Doonside, See Craufurd, John
Doniock, 123
Douglas, Archibald James Edward, later
ist B. Douglas of Douglas, Duke of
Quocnsbcrry expects victory for, 140;
his victory, xiv; JB meets for first time
after victory, 217; invites JB to Bothwell
Castle, 217, 347; retains JB as counsel,
xiii, 222; invites JB to accompany him
on travels, 223, 232; entertains JB at
Bothwell Castle, 223-224; JB calls on,
232; JB dines with, 235, 236, 238, 239,
241-242, at Lord Monboddo's, 246; JB
tells of uneasiness about his father, 235;
gives JB his idea of immortality, 238; is
taken to Willison's to sit for portrait,
238; JB wishes him to marry Lady Mary
Hay, 242; witnesses JB's marriage con-
tract, 348-349; mentioned, 32^.3, 143/2.9,
Dottunicottf Bartholomew tltj, 37
t, 1 08-a oo
f
Douglas, James, prebendary, ta$
Douglas, Lady Jane, wife of Sir John
Stewart, xiii, #7*1.5, 73, 96/2,3, 172
Douglas, John, D.D, later bishop of Car-
lisle and of Salisbury, 175, 1 76
Douglas, John, of Tilquhilly, advocate, 336,
35
Douglas, Margaret (Douglas), Duchess of,
wife of ist D. of, 32, 95, 223, 233, 235-
ft3$ 930, H 3oa
Douglas, Sylvester, of Fochil, later B, Glen-
borvio, ajS, a^a; Diaries, 223
Douglas, Liaut. Willliim, te/tr Sir William,
of Kttlhcftd, Bfc., a3, aj0, 230, 943
Douglas family, 194
Douglas eaute, introductory account of,
xrn-xiv* 87-88; JB writes Domndo on,
xiii, 56, 57, Hamilton Came, 37; Douglas
C&U9ti> 67, "inventions* 1 concorning, 69-
70; mftmoriftls of, stutlicnl by Lore! Au*
chinlx:k, 45, by JB, fit; JB entortainod
by i 57 1 ^ appealed to House of Lords, 70;
JB wtainwi h\ 7*-7h aaa; cllay in tie-
tejrminatian of, 73; JB discusses with
Lord Prwidont, 114, with Johnson, 149,
with Chariot Bosiwell, 39 1; with Lord
Miiutfiold, i60-if9! 1173; Dr, Wilton of
372
Index
Newcastle's essay on, 136; JB reads or
hears speeches on it by Lord President,
167, the Scotch judges, 169, the Chancel-
lor, 222; riot following decision, xiv, 189,
191; JB philosophizes on, 224; men-
tioned, 12, 32?z.3, 66, 78, 8572., 96, 114,
130/2.4, 144, 189-190, 195, 209/2.8, 236,
348
Down, county of, 207, 221/7.6
Drummond, Capt. Duncan, 60
Drummond, Thomas Lundin, styled Lord
Drummond, 166
Drummond, William, of Hawthornden,
History of Scotland., 304
Dryden, John, The Kind Keeper; or, Mr.
Limberham, 50; Tyrannic Love, 318
Dublin, 194, 200, 204, 207, 272
Dubois, J. P. I,, author, 286/2.9
Du Bos, Abbe" Jean-Baptiste, 140; Reflex-
ions sur la poesie, 320
Duff, William, Sheriff-depute of Ayr, 55,
195
Du Halde, Jean-Baptiste, author, General
History of China, 155
Dumfries, William Crichton-Dalrymple,
4th E. of, 57, 66
Dumfries (place), 67, 192
Dun, Mr., in London, 158
Dun, Rev. John, minister at Auchinleck,
44, 52, 58, 97
Dunbar, 135
Dundalk, 206
Dundas, Miss, younger sister of Henrietta
Dundas, 19
Dundas, Elizabeth (Rermie or Ranme),
ist wife of Henry Dundas, gn.6
Dundas, Henrietta, daughter of Robert
Dundas, 19
Dundas, Henry, later ist V, Melville, 9, ist,
119, 123, 129, 242
Dundas, James, of Dundas, 19
Dundas, Jean (Grant), wife of Robert Dun-
das, 128
Dundas, Robert (Lord Arniston), Lord
President of the Court of Session, votes
against Douglas, xiii, and is victimized
for it, 114, 170-171, 190; JB visits, ig;
orders arrest of publishers of newspapers,
70; talks with JB about Corsica, 19, the
Justiciary Court, 19, Douglas cause, 114;
shows concern at Lord Auchinleck's ill-
ness, 113; JB dines with, 123, 128, break-
fasts with, 124, 129; mentioned, 9/2.6,
167, 186, 191/2.2
Dundonald, Thomas Cochrane, 8th E. of,
130, 152
Dupont, Rev. Pierre Loumeau, 122, 213,
215, 222, 241, 256, 257, 261-263
Durham, 266
Eden, Catherine, daughter of following,
later wife of John Moore, Archbishop of
Canterbury, 123
Eden (Mary Davidson), Lady, wife of Sir
Robert, 123
Edinburgh, xiv, i, 2, 11, i9~43> 7*^-5, 71-
134, 94, 103/2., 108, 177, 181, 207-264,
273, 345, 347
Buildings: Goldsmiths' Hall, 215;
Luckenbooths, 121; Parliament House,
27, 123, 124, 208, 210, 215, 224, 335;
Royal Infirmary, 20; Theatre Royal,
115/2.6, 172; the Tolbooth, 12, 27, a8.o,
36
Churches and Chapels. Of the estab
lishment; New Church (east end of St,
Giles's), 27, 32, 51, 109, 115, iaa, ta^
124, 129, 130, 217, 242; Old Greyfriars,
238; qualified Anglican chapels: St.
Paul's (foot of Carrubber's Close), 33,
124; English chapel (Blackfriars Wynd),
183; of the (then non-juring) Episcopal
Church in Scotland: Old St, Paul's (cast
side of Carrubber's Close), 124/1,
Coffee-housefi 9 Inn$, and Taverns;
(John) Clerihue's (Star and Garter),
s^n.j 36, 121, 133, 124, ia6, aaa; Mrs.
Dunbar's, 31; Fortune's, 117, ia8, ia$,
209., 249; Purvo^s, a 30, 333; Potw Ram-
say's Red Lion, tax, 345; Small**, 341,
*S*
Parks and Gardens: Comely Garden,
342; Leith Links, aa
Streets and Squares: Borth wick's Close,
a/j; the Bow, 118; Castle Hill, 330; the
Cowgate, 43/0; the Cross, 117, 125,
191/1,2, 208; High Street, 43*2.2; Milne's
Square, 94; Parliament Close, 43/2^
73/1.8; the Plcsasance, $43; St. Mary**
Wynd, t%m*g
f Capillaire Club, 189; Faculty
Index
373
of Advocates, 11, 120; College of Physi-
cians, 25rz.sj; Soaping Club, 281; new
debating society, 215, 240
Miscellaneous: Arthur's Scat, 72, 296;
Fountainbridgo (suburb), 225; Old and
New Towns, 273
Edinburgh, University of, i, 372.5, 9/1.6,
31/2.9, 3372.1, 41/2.8, 56/2.2, 144, 15172.
Edinburgh Advertiser, 70
Edmondson, Thomas, JB's servant, 37, 73,
76, 78-7fl- Bo, 85, 91, 95, 101, 113, 193,
208, a.V2, 253, 34 1
Eglinton, Alexander Montgomerie, loth E.
of, admires the gardeners daughter, 3
4; comments on an Italian "woman of
gallantry," 38, on Dr. Johnson's rough-
ness, 177, on Miss Bosville's marrying a
Scotsman, 117, 14,^/2.7; JB embraces at
the Cross of Edinburgh, 117; advises JB
how to woo Miss Blair, 1 1 7-1 18; JB dines
with, 173; Margaret Montgomerie de-
pends for franks on, 24,5; knows of JB's
engagement to Margaret Montgomerie,
a#'l a()t; at variance with dipt. Alex,
Montgomerie Ominghame, ^35; account
of tho shooting of, .w-MH, '$40-341;
burial of, 341-343, 34*5; mentioned, i,
04. *f><>
Fjglmton, Archibald Montgomery, nth E.
of, ,143, 347
Eglintcm t Susanna (Kennedy), Counter of,
mother of loth and tith Knrta of Kglin-
Elibtmk, Patrick Murray, 5th Lord, 1
Eliock (Jam Witch), Lord, 4*, 170,
Elixabeth I, Queen of England, iaan.&
Kpaminondaft, Thobnn general, 10
Epictetuft, iSt
Erroll, James Hay, tfjth E, of, 4
Ewkine, Hon, Andrew, ao, a 7, 3*t*9*
40, 4, 54.t ao8, uof), 349, 95
the //on. Andruw Rrskintt
Charles (Lord Tmwald), Lord
Just let *Cterk t 170
Lady Alva, widow of Charles Erakino,
Entkino, John, D.D.
77, 9$
Bton Cdllegt, 158
Eugene, Prince of Savoy, 165/2.1
Euripides, 271
European Magazine, 172/1.8, 221/2.6
Exeter, 339
Farquhar, Alexander, of Gilrnillscroft, 69
Farquhar, George, dramatist, Recruiting
Officer, 162
Farquhar, James, merchant, 264
Fawkener, Capt. Everard, 9/2,6
Ferguson, Adam, LL.D., 74; An Essay on
the History of Civil Society , 38
Ferguson, James, astronomer, 327
Fergusson, Sir Adam, of Kilkerran, Bt, 27,
66, 195, 196
Fergusson, George, advocate, later Lord
Hermand, 222
Fergusson, James ("young Pitfour"), ad-
vocate, l88, 222
Fergusson, Sir James, of Kilkerran, Bt,
xxiv, xxv
Fergusson, Rev. Joseph, 95, 97
Fcrney, France, 45
Ferrybridge, 137, 267
Fielding, Henry, 59/2.8, 148, 163/2.6; Joseph
Andrews, 83
Fielding, Sir John, magistrate, 162-163
Kilby, John (actually William), tailor, 318
Fmghmd. See CJhnlniers, James
Fisher, actor, a 63
Fitzgerald, Percy, Life of James
1'leming (or FIw>ming) t (Charles, surgeon^
;i17i JJ $
Fletcher, James, hookRcllo^ 274
Florence, Italy, 20^/^.9
Fokdare, Joseph, xxv
Fontmcslle, Bernard Lo Bovier die, Plurality
of Worlds, 303
Foord, Hcv Mr,, 215
Gt Samuel, dramatist and mimic, 283,
Forbes, Mr. (same as Duncan Forbes, sur-
geon?), 106, 107
Forbe% Duncan, Lord President, 115
Forbes, Duncan, surgeon, a60 o, aj)i,
94, 308, 300, 3<>& 108,3*7
Forbes, Sir William, of Pitsligo, Bt,, 14^
Forfar, election cawsea of f 113, 117, 118
Formey, Jean Henri Samuel, author, 44
Poulis* Robert^ printer^ 57, 79^ 80,
374
Index
France, xv, 2, 18, 45, 163, 180, aion.i, 302,
305, 307
Francis I, Holy Roman Emperor, 251
Franklin, Benjamin, 163, 167, 289, 292, 300
Fraser, James, customs officer, 198
Frazer, Lieut. -Col. Andrew, son of George
Frazer, 306
Frazer, George, excise officer, 19, 114-115,
121, 123, 306, 308
Frazer, Mrs. George, wife of preceding, 308
Frazer, Miss, daughter of George Frazer,
308
Frazer, James, law agent, 222
Frazer, John, 115
Frederick, supposed son of King Theodore.
See Vigliawischi, Frederick
Frederick II (the Great), 2, 251, 300^.4
Frederick William I, King of Prussia, 151
Fullarton, Barbara (Blair), widow of Wil-
liam Fullarton of Fullarton, 209
Fullarton, William, of Fullarton, 209
Fullarton, William, of Overton, 55, 56
Fullarton, PWilliam, of Rosemount ("the
Nabob"), 81-83, 85, 100, no, 124-129,
133, 183
Fullarton family, 238
G,, Miss, landlady in Edinburgh, 41
Gainsborough, Rev. Humphry, inventor,
Gainsborough, Thomas, painter,
Gall, Robert, barber, 272
Galloway, Alexander Stewart, 6th E. of,
117, 121, 230, 250-251
Galloway, rioters of, 65, 67
Galston, 43
Gardenstone (Francis Garden), Lord, 250
Garrick, David, JB recommends Mickle's
Chateaubriant to, 275, 279; JB expects to
meet at the Stratford Jubilee, 278, meets
dramatically, 280; is pleased with JB's
Verses in the Character of a Corsican,
282, 284; JB calls on, 283; JB borrows
five guineas from, 284-285; JB unable to
describe his play of features, 292-293;
attacked by Shirley, 295; his vanity dis-
puted, 308; dines with SJ, 317; discusses
Goldsmith's dress, 317-318, Shakespeare
and Dryden, 318-319, Sheridan's ora-
tory, 319, Voltaire and the English lan-
guage, 320, SJ's doubts about death, $$a;
presents a stage version of the Stratford
Jubilee, 322^.3; SJ disparages, 322; wit-
ness in Baretti case, 3255 causes JB's song
on matrimony to be set to music, 343;
Catherine and Petruchio, 297, Clandes-
tine Marriage, 28172,2 (see also Colman),
Florizel and Perdita, 314, Ode upon Dedi-
cating a Building and Erecting a Statue
to Shakespeare at Stratford-upon-Avon,
269^., 293^2.8, 295, A Peep Behind the
Curtain, 136; mentioned, 133/2,, 284
Garrick, Eva Maria (Violetti), wife of pre-
ceding, 285
Garrick, George, brother of David Garrick,
284
Gay, John, 140/2.; Beggar's Opera, xvii, 81,
131-132; Macheath, character of, 81
Geneva, Switzerland, 90^.6
Genoa, 2, 18, 60, 163
Gentili, Count, Corsican, 301-302
George III, King of Great Britain and Ire-
land 14/2.9, 267*,., 2872.3, 28171.2, 28671.1,
309, 336
Giardini, Felice de\ violinist, 159
Gib, James, provoat of Auclimleck, 69
Gib, James, of Dalblair, 57
Gib, Mrs. James, wife of preceding, 57
Gibbons, Thomas, D.D., 238, 239
Gibson, James, attorney, 140-141
Gibson, James, landlord at Ayr, 195
Gilkio #. Wallace*, cause of, 51
Gilmour, Sir Alexander, of CrnigmilJer,
Bt, 11571.7, 117-118, 121, i4-ia6, *8a
Giuseppe, valet to Paoli, 300-301
Glasgow, John Boyle, 3d E, of, 337
Glasgow, 12, 78, 70, 84, 09, 195, 208, 244,,
247, 249
Glasgow, University of, t, 5671, a, 79, 154
Glen App, hill, 197
Glencaira, James Cunningham, i^th E. of,
185
Glenmuir, 5571,5
Glyn, Sir Richard Carr, Bt, 142
Godefroi, innkeeper in Paris, 57-58
Golden Cross, inn at Oxford, 151, 152
Goldsmith, Oliver, 308, 117-318, 330, ;pf$
w.i, 327; Good-Naturtd Man, Mjn. 148;
History of the Earlh^ 399; Mfotory of
England* 299^,9
Gordon, lion. Alexander, advocate, later
Lord Rockville, tag, aia
Index
375
Gordon, Alexander Gordon, 4th D, of, 94
Gordon, Catherine, of Stair, 185
Gordon, Jane (Maxwell), Duchess of, wife
of 4th D, of, 94^.7, 109, tio
Gordon, John, W.S., 26
Graovius, Jnharm Georg, 19
Graf Ion, Augustus Henry Fitzroy, $d D.
of, 289; Autobiography of Augustus
Henry 9 third Duke of Graf ton,, 172^.9
Graham, Mr,, landlord of Saracen's Head
Inn, Glasgow, -246, 24,7
Graham, Arthur, at Jrvino, 19.},
Grahanio.s, Mr,, at Lainshaw, 249, 253
Grange, estate in Dumfriesshire, 192
Grant, Anno (Campbell), daughter of Dr.
John Campbell, ,$05
Gnmtham, 138/1.;$, 266, 207-268, 302
Gray, Thomas, j,8, 10-11, .$ 7/^.7, 75, 91,
tot, i (>()/.(>; Ode on a Distant Prospect
of Eton College^ 158
Great Britain, xv, 18, a 7, 4,5, 53, $oa, 305,
3>7, 313
Grwno, Edward Bxmiuhy, poet and trans*
lator, Corsica^ (in Qdt\ 306; Works of
Anacwon and Sappho^ 306
Gregory, John, MIX, 31, 34,, 7.1,, 80, 209,
tt4f)-ti50; Comparative View of the Slate
and Faculties of Man with Thme of the
Animal World, u /*<) >V
Grey Abboy, ruin, ton
Griffin, William, ptiblkher, 299^,9
Gro*vanor, Richard Grosvouor, ist B., //t*r
ifit K, 39^/1,8
Guelfucci da Belgodere, A!b(^ Botifiglio,
jo i, joa, ^tjti
(tuthrii\ William,, imthor imtl critic, 144-
14*5, fju 115^ t(if5t OW England^ or, T7iif
Constitutional Journal^ 144
*\ 44 "4
(Sir Duvid Dnlrymplo, Bt.)
to IB, v-4i Bo tfHH advinc JB
on 4ccol fj/ Corsica nut! makers ftivor-
able c.riticim of it, Mi4, 73, 75i f,H*
104; JB preientu n copy of Corsica to,
tain JB drinks* tea with, a$; atlviwii JB to
burn hit *ong oa tho Htmiiton caust^
aj; In Ciumcrwi cttii f 41; tnlk* with
JB about his conduct in legal causes, his
affair with Mrs, Dodds, 41; his observa-
tion on the jury system, 144; writes to
JB about his part in the rioting following
the Douglas decision, 189-190; dines at,
Lord Auchinleck's, 249; mentioned, 91,
1.14/2.2
Hair, Mr., governor to Horatius Caiman,
263
Halbert, William, schoolmaster at Auc.hin
leek, 69
Haliday, Mrs. ? Alexander, at Belfast, 208
Hall, Benjamin, librarian of Bodleian, 154-
155
Hamilton, Alexander, surgeon, 192
Hamilton, Elizabeth (Dalrymple), widow
of William Hamilton of Bangour, 121-
122
Hamilton, James George Hamilton, /th D.
of, xiii, 223. See also Douglas cause
Hamilton, John, of Sundrum, 56, 165, 336
Hamilton, Robert, of Bourtreehill, 195*1.4
Hamilton, family, 144
Hamilton cause, 43, 51, 58, 171, 236, See
also Douglas cause
Handel, George Frederick, 117^/2.3
tfurcourt, Simon Harcourl, ist E., 274
Hardriggs, See Caruthers, Mr.
Hurdwicke, Philip Vorke, ad K. of, 166
Huringtoiu Rev, Richard, 339
Harloy, Thomas, Lord Mayor of London,,
142
Ilttrriwgton, Caroline (Fitzroy), Counter
of f 77
HarriH, Mr., dissenting clergyman, 439
llarriH, Mrs,, at Stratford, a 80, a8a
Harris, ? James, author, aBB
Harwich, t /jo
Hawki\ Admiral Sir Edward, later ist B.
Hawthorne, William F., xxvi
Hay, James, W.S., 119, 1^9
Hay, Lady Mary, daughter of tgth E. of
Enroll, 5142
Hay, Robert, malofcictor, 25, a 6, a 8, 52, t$o
Hay, William, W.S n 95, ia,$
^ Matthew, antiquary, 117-118,
Heitky, 146^ 157-15^^ 274
Heron, Kev. Hubert, a 68
3/6
Index
Herries, Robert, later Sir Robert, Kt, 142
Herries, Cochrane, and Company, London,
139^2.8
Hervey, PFrederick Augustus, Bishop of
Derry, later 4th E. of Bristol, 309
Hervey, James, devotional writer, 52
High Church, Glasgow, 79
High Street, Lisburn, 204
Hill, Robert W., xxvi
Hilles, Frederick W., xxv
Hillsborough, Wills Hill, ist E. of, later
ist M. of Downshire, 205
Hillsborough, 205
Hillsborough Arms, inn at Donaghadee,
198
Hoadly, Benjamin, dramatist, The Sus-
picious Husband, 115, 149
Hoggan, Capt James, 208
Holland, 2, 18, 44-45
Holmains. See Carruthers, John
Holyroodhouse, Henry Bothwell, titular
Lord, 122
Home, John, Douglas, 286
Home, Patrick, of Billy, 167, 222
Horace, 314; Epistles, 24, 41, 64, 104, 235,
250; Odes, 9, 23, 43, 51, 90, 157, 180, 182;
Satires, 314
Hounslow, 286
House of Commons, 28672.8
House of Lords, 70, 88, 236^.9
Howard, Hon. Edward, The British
Princes, 334/z.i
Howell, Mr., farmer, 267-268
Hume, David, characterized, 82, 153, 262,
293, 332 ; finds no venom in JB's song on
the Hamilton cause, 27; agrees to trans-
act publication of JB's Account of Cor-
sica, 28, 35, 46; quarrel with Rousseau,
34; appointed secretary to Conway, 34;
admired by Dr, John Smith of Oxford,
150; visits JB, 256; History of England,
182; mentioned, 46, 165 and n3
Hunt, William, town clerk of Stratford, 283
Hunter, Andrew, D,D,, professor at Edin-
burgh University, 239
Hunter, James, bailie of Edinburgh, 123
Hunter, Robert, professor at Edinburgh
University, 35/2.1, 91, 144, 215
Hunter, Veronica (Murray), wife of
Robert Hunter of Polmood, laa
Hyde, Donald F,,
Hyde, Mary (Crapo), 132/2.2
Hyndford, Janet (Grant), Countess of, 114
Hyndford, John Carmichael, 3d E. of, 251
Hyndford, John Carmichael, 4th E. of, 114
Hyndford, family, 144
Ireland, 177, 179-180, 183, 192, 198-208,
237
Irvine, 194, 337
Irving, John, solicitor, 290
Isham, Lt.-Col. Ralph Heyward, xxii, xxiii,
xxiv
Italy, 2, 1372.9
Jachone, Corsican mastiff, 142/2.5
Jamaica, 292
James, footman to Mr. Dilly, 296
James, waiter at Ayr, 195
James IV, King of Scotland, 68/2.9
James and _, ship, 198
Jedd, Mrs., Edward Billy's housekeeper,
296
Jeffries, Joseph, LL.D., 300
JOHNSON, SAMUEL, LL.D.
[Part I, Miscellaneous; Part II, Rela-
tions with JB; Part III, Opinions and
Observations; Part IV, Works."],
L Miscellaneous, SJ characterised, xii,
177, 263, 274, 314; meets Wilkes, 83/2,7;
tests Mrs. Macaulay's republican princi-
ples, 160/2.9; admired by Dr. Smith of
Oxford, 150; helps Robert Chambers
write lectures, 146/1.6; entertained by Sir
Alexander Macdonald and his wife on
tour of the Hebrides, 143/1.7; invites Dr,
Gibbons to tea, 338/1,; meets Paoli, 314-
316; mentioned, x, xxiii, 151, 181, 197,
35*-353 &&4
II. Relations with JB. Introductory ac-
count of his relationship with JB xl-xii,
i; letters to JB, 14-15, 164, 387-288, 343;
letters from JB, 16-17, 164 165; JB's
first meeting with, i, 159/2.5$ disapproves
of JB's enthusiasm for the Cortkans, xv,
164, 314, of JB's proposed Account of
Corsica^ 15; JB wishes him to read Cor-
sica, 104; praises Cornea, but refuses to
review it, 166, 887-288$ JB visits or en-
tertains, a, 146-450, i5ft-t$4 *53-*&
*$3 165-166, 175-177, 3U~3*6 t 3*7-3S4
343; JB finds Mm away at Oxford, 145,
Index
377
at Brighton, 269; approves of JB\s reso-
lution to obey his lather, 13, of liis study
of the law, 14-15; JB emulates, 25, 90,
167, 250, '298?!,; promises to visit Scot-
land, tfjo; JB writes to, 275; JB recalls
visiting at Oxford, 275; wishes JB well in
marriage, 1188; advises JB to complete a
dictionary of words peculiar to Scotland,
322; invites JB to visit him at Strcatham,
342; accompanies JB to London, 343;
witnesses JB's marriage contract, 348-
349
III. Opinions and Observations, On
adultery*, 155-156; American colonists,
305; animals, future life of, 153; Auchin-
leek, Lord, JB's differences with, 310,
plan to remarry, 310; Baretti, 156, 323-
31*4; Biackmore, 334; Blair, 153; Buchan-
an's poetry, 325; Burke's Sublime and
Beautiful* 320; change, terror of, 330;
characters of nature and characters of
manners, i.^S-HO; chastity in women,
156; child, bringing up a new-born, if
shut up in a castle with it, xii, 328; Chin*
esc, sound of voice of, 399; Gibber., 33 a~
,$,$; Ocmgreve, .318-319, 335; Gorsicans,
the, 314; criticism, the nature of true,
;$ao; Crosbic, Andrew, u <),(>; death,
fear of, 323, 33^31$; domestic tyranny,
^5; Dominic.cti's baths, 337; Douglas
cinwe, 149; Dry<lou* poetry, 318; Du
Haldtt's ChirM) i$f>; Elibank, Lord, 165
.i; Cuto and free will, refuses to dUoufis,
v $i6, 33 1; KitrftUHtum, Sir Adam, a/n.5;
Fielding, 148; FooU\ 3*44, ,v<i# -.v^O; 0r-
ru'k*H acting, ; jau, Floriwl and Pmltta,
314; general wammtft, ifHi Goldsmith's
conuulics, 148; guent, waiting dinner for
ii tardy, 317; Outline, Wi Ilium, i$a~ig;$;
H(irdfknutt\ 4&u; history, 314; Hume*
*U ignorijuu't* in nwn of *mi nance, 330-'
331; infidelity, ^135 Knmo*, Lord, E fo-
ments of GritiGi&rn % 154, jao; landlords
and tennttti, 339; legal othic*, 147; Lich
field* 153; London life, advantages of,
3ia; ttiarriage^ 328, 343; marriage, 0o
ond^ jta; married couples living with
parents, 3*0; military manners, 316;
Monboddo t Lord, evolutionary vitwa of,
trtatmwt of u tke savagt Ufa 1 *,
Monsey T Dr, of Chelsea Colltga,
175-176; Montagu, Mrs., Essay on
Shakespeare, 320; Oxford, advantages of,
for leaz*ning, 152; Paoli, 315-316; peli
tions, 320; plays, new, 148-149; political
improvement, schemes of, 329-330; poli-
tics, 320; Pope's Dunciady Epistle to Dr.
Arbuthnot, Moral Essays, and Pastorals,
318; population, 328-330; predestination,
331; Presbyterianism, 330-331; Prior,
313; praise on compulsion, 149; religion,
325, 330-332; Hidhardson, 148; Robert-
son, 153; Roman Catholic Church, 330-
332; Rousseau's treatment of "the savage
life," 311; scorpion, whether it kills it-
self, 153-154; Scotland, 153, 312, 313;
Scots authors, 153; Shakespeare, 318-
320, 322, 325; Sheridan's ox*atory, 319;
singularity, 311-312; suicide, 321-322;
swallows, conglobulation of, 154; Swift,
176-177; sympathy for distresses of
others, 323-324; Thomson, 175; trade,
3116; Whitefield, 514; Wilkes, 168; wood-
cocks, migration of, 154; Young's Night
Thoughts, 325
IV. Works. London, a Poem y 1738,
318; Life of Savage^ 1744, 168/1.1; The
Vanity of Human Wishes, 1749, 154-
155, 332; The Rambler, 1750-1752, 19,
148, ai8,4, 335-4 349; Dictionary of
the English Language, 1755, 86; Preface
to Shakespeare^ 1765, 322; Life of Dry-
rftfn, 1779, 3i8n*; mentioned, x, xxiii,
145, 151, 181, 197, aga-a&j, ^84
Johnston, sea-captain, 284-286
Johmfcm, Dimiol, M*D., 45, 5^ 55-57, fe
68,69,193
Johnston, Mrs, Daniel, wife of preceding?,
S6
Johnaton t John, of Grange, note on JB's
letters to, xxii; letters from JB 9 95-^6,
193103; dittos at Lady Betty Macfar*
lano*s, 31, with JB, 213-314, 216, 226,
245; drinks tea with JB lai, a5 aa6,
a 38; delighted with JB'e London Journal,
33; disapproves of JB's liaison with Mrs,
Dodds, a, 40, 49, 6a, 313-314; JB philos-
ophize* to, on their vices and follies, 95-
96; JB off on journey, 134, 264; JB
writes to, of Mary, 139/1.6; advises JB
against a mercenary marriage, a 09;
Brings a doctor to JB aio; advises and
378
Index
soothes JB in regard to father's proposed
remarriage, 217, 225, 229-230, 309/2.1;
attends a race at Leith with JB, 236;
mentioned, 54/2.1, 80, 82, 83, 86, 89, 131
-7 3 56, 336/2.5, 347
Joseph, Mr., at Kilmarnock, 99
Junius, political writer, 299
Justiciary, High Court of, 12, 19, 67
Kames (Henry Home), Lord, 28, 109, 129,
153, 169; Elements of Criticism, 28/^2,
167, 320
Keaseberry, William, actor, 297
Keating, James, bookseller at Stratford, 282
Keil, Harry 3VL, M.D., xxvi, 317/2.9
Kellie, Thomas Alexander Erskine, 6th E.
of, 20/2.6, 42, 250
Kelly, Hugh, dramatist, 283; False Deli-
cacy, 133/2., 136, 148
Kennedy, Miss, sister of Dr. Gilbert Ken-
nedy, 294
Kennedy, David, advocate, later loth E. of
Cassillis, 129, 167, 230
Kennedy, Gilbert, M.D., 250, 269, 270, 286,
290, 291, 294-295, 317; Lisbon Diet
Drink, 286, 297
Kermet (Robert Bruce), Lord, 124
Kenrick, William, author, 168
Ker, James, Keeper of the Records, 116
Kerr, Mrs., at Ayr, 195
Kerr, Miss, daughter of preceding, 195
Keyser's pills, 270
Killantringan, laird of. See MacMichan,
PGilbert
Kilmarnock, 52, 99, 219
Kilmaurs, 64
Kincaid, Alexander, printer, later Lord
Provost of Edinburgh, 1 16, 217
Kincardine, Veronica (van Sommelsdyck),
Countess of, 44/2*5
King, Thomas, actor, 282, 316
King, Mrs. Thomas (Baker), wife of pre-
ceding, 282
Kingston, Elizabeth (Chudleigh), Duchess
of, wife of following, 216
Kingston, Evelyn Pierrepont, ad D of, a 16
Kingswells, 78
Kinloch, Mr., brother to George Farquhar
Kinloch, 264
Kinloch, Lieut. Archibald, 64
Kinloch, David, later Sir David, of Gilrner-
ton, fit., father of preceding, 64
Kinloch, George Farquhar, merchant in
London, 264-268, 286-287, 289
Kinnaird, Charles Kinnaird, 6th Lord, 121
Kinnaird, Jeany, natural daughter of
Charles Kinnaird, 6th Lord Kinnaird,
121
Kinnoul, Thomas Hay, 8th E. of, 129
Kirby, John P., xxv
Lacy, James, actor and manager, 285
Lainshaw (person). Sec Montgomerie,
James, of Lainshaw
Lainshaw (place), 56^,4, 64-65, 94, 99-
100, 192-194, 207-208, 246-249, 348
Lam, George L., xxvi
Lambe, Robert, Bishop of Peterborough,
303
Langton, Bennet, 175
Laurie, Mrs., at Dumfries, 67
Law, William, advocate, 222
Lee, John, actor, 281
Lefanu, Alicia, Memoirs of the Life, and
Writings of Mrs. Frances Sheridan^ 293
n.9
Leghorn, Italy, 18 in., a 10/2.1, 224
Leith, Mrs., in Edinburgh, 24-25
Leith (place), 221/2.7, 2 3 &3$? 250
Leven, David Leslie, 6th E, of, 1 14
Lewis, Mrs. ("Louisa"), actress, %
Lichileld, 153
Liobert, Herman W, xxv
Lincoln, Eleanor T,, xxv
Linda, Lucas de, Polish writer and state
official, Dcscnptio Qrbis, 316
Lisbum, 204-306
Lisbume, Wilmot Vaughan, 4th V. and tst
E. of, 9^.7, 51, 61, 63, 93, 97, 104, 134,
181, i8a
Livingston, Thomas, M.D., as
Livingstone, 43, 024
Lochmabea, m* 123
Lochryan, 197
Lockhart, Alexander, Dean of Faculty,
laUr Lord Covington, 41, 116, a*o
Lockhart, Col. James, of Cumwath, aio
Lockhart, John Gibson, Life of Scott^ 363
^-9
Lockhart, Susan, aunt of Lady Mary Hay,
243
Index
379
London, JB compares to a garden, 298; ad-
vantages of life in, 312; visited by JB,
t39-i77, 264-343; mentioned, i, 35, 51,
63,93, 128, 134
Buildings: Drury Lane Theatre, 133^.,
295, 297, 322; East India House, 290;
Foundling Hospital, 295; Great Piazza,
160; Guildhall, 142; Haymarket Theatre,
287; Mansion House, 159^.4; Newgate
Prison, 316; Old Bailey, 289, 325; Tower
of London, 297-298
Churches and Chapels; Bavarian Min-
ister's Chapel, 294; Portland Chapel, 145;
St. Paul's Cathedral, 180, 272; Temple
Church, 272, 305; Westminster Abbey,
15971.7
Coffee-houses and Taverns; Brawn's
Head Tavern, 307; Crown and Anchor
Tavern, 175, 371; Dolly's, 290; London
Tavern, 322; Mitre Tavern, 311, 325;
Percy ColTee-house, 143-144; St. Paul's
Coffeo-house, 300; Somerset Coffee-
house, 7; Smyrna Coffee-house, 270,
a 711, 273; Star and Garter, 139
Parks and Gardens: Burlington Gar-
dens, 303; Green Park, 373; St. James*
Park, 273
tftrwtSi Squares, and Courts: Blooms-
bury Square, 148; BoswelPs Court, near
Bed Lion Squara, 398; BoswelPs Court,
Lincoln's Inn Fiold^ o8; Bow Street,
Covcnt Garden, 27*; Carey Street, 08,
303, Chettp*idtt, ^74; Covent Garden, 143;
Dovoreux Court, 990; Golden Square,
a4; Gray's Inn Lane, a68; Great Russell
Street, Bloomftbury, *o; Greek Street,
Soho, 70| Half Moon Street, Piccadilly,
130K.B, 140; Jermyw Street, 93; John-
son's Court! ag8ft.; Lincoln's Inn Fields,
a/o t apS| Long Acre, 148; Newgate
Street, aga; Newman Street, agi; Old
Bond Street, 300, 303-304, 317; Oxford
Road, a0i; the Poultry, 8j, a6j), 994, 3*6;
Queen. Anne Street, Cavendish Square,
*5i Queen Square* 0195; led Lion
Square* 8| St. James Street, 30^; St.
Paul's Churchyard, a6; Soho Square,
*05 S; the Strand* i, 140, H
MU&tllctnwust Blockfrian Bridge*
ft7i-7a; Bob Dorry^s bagnio, 158; H The
Honiit Whigs* 1 (club), 300; Borough of
Southwark, 142; Thames River, 272, 296;
Tyburn, 140, 323; Westminster, 160;
Westminster Bridge, 306
London Chronicle, JB's "facts" and "inven-
tions" about Corsica printed in, xiv-xv,
xxiii, 20-2t, 44-45, 59-60, 66, 69, 70-71,
92-93, 94-95; prints account of celebra-
tion of Paoli's birthday, 160, James
Burgh's commendation of Corsica, 161,
JB's report of execution of six men,
323/2,; JB reads to SJ, 330; mentioned,
* 39^.8, 3o6n., 31471.
London Inn, Exeter, 134
London Magazine, 281 n.9, 28377,5, 288-289,
293/2,8,316
Londonderry, 2d M. of. See Castlereagh,
Robert Stewart, V.
Longbrigend, 135
Longixms, On the Sublime, 151/2,
Lord Advocate. See Montgomery, James
William
Lord Justice-Clerk. See Miller, Thomas
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, See Town-
shend, George Townshend, 4th V., later
ist M
Lord President. S@ Dundas, Robert
Lothian, Jean Janet (Kerr), Dowager
Marchioness of, wife of 3d M of, 122
Lothian, William Henry Kerr, 4th M. of,
122, 133
Loudoun, John Campbell, 4th E, of, 342
Loudoun (place), 78
Louisa, SM Lewis, Mrs.
Love, James, stage nanw^of James Dance,
actor and author, 132/1,9, a8i, a<)6-ag7
Love, Mrs, James (Hooper), wife of pre
ceding, issm.g, 296-297
Low t Goorge, malefactor, 33371,
Lowe, landlord at Ferrybridge, 137
Lucari, Pharsatta^ 170
Lucretius, De mrum nature 37
Luther, Martin, 59
Lyon, Capt Adraw t a 16
Lytteltoa, George Lyttelton, ist B, 163,
165-166, 171, 309
McAdam, James, of Waterhead, 56
McAdam, Capt, James, son of prucedkig,
McAdam, John, of CraigengUlao, 65*
380
Index
(Sawbridge),
Macaulay, Mrs. Catharine
historian, 160-161
Macaulay, Rev. Kenneth, 150
Macaulay, Thomas Babington Macaulay,
ist B., 150/7.8
Macbride, Mary, niece of Hugh Boyd, 198,
204-206
McCammin, Misses, at Newry, 206
Macclesfield, Anne (Mason), Countess of,
168
McCombe, Mrs, Joyce T., 266/2.
Macdonald, Sir Alexander, of Sleat, Bt,
later ist B., 143, 277?!.
MacDonald, PHugh, surgeon, 210, 226, 230,
241, 249, 256, 257, 264
Macdonald, Sir James, of Sleat, Bt., 150,
152, 275
Macdonald, Lady Margaret (Montgom-
erie), widow of Sir Alexander (d. 1746),
279, 293
Macdonald, William, W.S., 222, 249, 250
Macfarlane, Lady Elizabeth. See Colville,
Elizabeth (Erskine),Lady
Macfarlane, Walter, of Macfarlane, anti-
quary, 31/2.9
Mclntosh, Mr., 214
McKee, Irving, xxv
Mackellar, landlord of inn at Livingstone,
224
Mackenzie, Misses, of Seaforth, 231, 239
Mackenzie, Sir Alexander, of Gairloch, Bt.,
56
Mackenzie, Catherine, sister of Kenneth
Mackenzie, E. of Seaforth, 242
Mackenzie, John, of Dolphinton, 116
Mackenzie v, Mackenzie, 57, 58
Mackie, Dr., at Ayr, 195
Mackye, John Ross, advocate, 173
Maclaine, Rev. Archibald, pastor, English
church at The Hague, 44
Maclaurin, John, later Lord Dreghom, 245
MacMichan, PGilbert, laird of Killantrm-
gan, 195
McMmn, Jane Charlotte (Boyd), wife of
William McMinn, 198, 202/1.4
McMinn, William, 202
MacNeil, Dr., litigant in the Court of Ses-
sion, 219, 221
Maconochie, Alexander, of Meadowbank,
legal agent, 143-145, 165, 167,
230, 242
Macowan, Joseph, at Lisbum, 205
Macpherson, James, Fingal, 191
Macqueen, Mary (Agnew), wife of Robert
Macqueen, 251
Macqueen, Robert, later Lord Braxfield
and Lord Justice-Clerk, 118, 251
Macredie, Jane, daughter of William Mac-
redie of Perceton, 2 1 7
Mactaggart, landlord at Ballantrae, 197
Magennis, family, Hillsborough, 205
Maidenhead, 274
Mair, John, extractor in the Court of Ses-
sion, 238
Malahide Castle, xxv^
Malone, Edmond, 142/2.4, 150/2,8
Mamhead, 9/2.7, 91, 93, 105, 119, 133-134,
338-339
Mansfield, William Murray, ist B., later
ist E. of, xxi, 168-174
Mare"chal de Turenne, inn at The Hague,
44
Margherita, Raphael's mistress, 214/1,3
Maria Theresa, Queen of Hungary, Em-
press, 251/2.5, 307/2.
Marischal, George Keith, loth E., 20, 39/1.,
102, 191/2.2, 293
Marr, hatter in London, 298
Marshall, Jane, authoress, Sir Harry Gay-
love, 214, 285
Martin, David, painter and engraver, 116
Mary, in Edinburgh, prostitute, 135, 137,
139
Mary, maid at M, ReuaudX London, 304
Massey, Miss, mistress of 6th E. of Kollu*,
43
Mathews, George, of Spring vale, 190
Matthew, Pservant, 158, 160
Mauchline, 45
Maupertuis, Pierre Louis Moreau de, phi*
losopher, 153-154
Maxwell, Lady, 134, 953. (Either Darcy
Brisbane, widow of Sir Walter Maxwell
of Pollok, Bt., or Frances Colhoun, wife
of his brother* Sir James Maxwell of
Pollok, Bt, or Margaret Stewart, wifa of
Sir William Maxwell of Sprixigfcell)
Maxwell, Alexander, wine merchant, aio
Maxwell, Charles, of Cowhill, 241
Maxwell, Hugh, son of Hugh Maxwell of
Dalswinton, a 16
Index
381
Maxwell, Jane. See Gordon, Jane (Max-
well), Duchess of
Maxwell, Sir John, of Pollok, Bt., Lord of
Session. See Pollok, Lord
Maxwell, Capt, William, of Dalswinton,
216
Maxwell, Sir William, of Monreitli, Bt,
183/1.7
Maybole, 150, 195
Mayo, Henry, D.D., dissenting clergyman,
141, 161
Meadows (should have been spelled Med-
ows), Charles, Post Capt. R.N., later as-
sumed name Pierropout, and was created
E, Manvers, 167
Manage, Gilles, Menagiana, 271, 295
Mctfcdorf, Robert F., xxv
Micklo, William Julius, 275, a 70,, 28/5; Con-
Gubint!) 275; Siege of Marseilles,, 214, 275
Millar, Andrew, publisher, aS, 35
Miller, tavern-keeper hi Edinburgh, 133
Miller, John, engraver, a88n.7, 304
Miller, Margaret (Murdoch), ist wife of
Thomas Miller, 60
Miller, Thomas, Lord Justice-Clerk (later
Sir Thomas, of Glenloe, Bt., and Lord
President), la, 60, tac), 174
Mitchell, Alexander, of Hallglenmuir, 44,
fit, 6& ^ 60, ia& api
Mitchell, Andrew, advocate, 56
Mitchell^ Sir Andrew, K,B., diplomatist,
ao-ai, 30
Mitchell, Sir John, of Wostshore, Bt,, 273
Mitcholsuft, Samuel, Sr M WS., 30
Mitcholson, Samuel, Jr., W*S, 208
Moffnt, Mrs** dresser to Anno Spranger
Bitrry, aoS-w
MoFfat, 5-u, 49
Moleftworth, Robert, ist V, Motesworth,
An Account of Dnmark> 98
Monboddo (Jtmti Buratt) Lord, com-
mtmti on JB*i pason lor Mrs. Dodds,
40; viawi on evolution, 40/1,5, on the su
pirior happinais of the savage Hie, 311;
JB feels himself a rakt befora, 123; dines
with JB, 133-144, 036, 2138, JH^ 346*
attends bull at Fortune's, ta; speech in
the Douglas cause praised, 170; favors
JB* marrying Margaret Montgomerie,
aij, at8 asit, aa, and acts as mediator
between JB and Ms father, 435* % dis-
approves of Lord Auchinleck's second
marriage, 218, 225; on the side of Dr.
MacNeil, 221; takes leave of JB at the
end of the session, 254; mentioned, 124,
238
Moncrieffe, David Stewart, advocate, 115,
123, 210, 216, 230, 241, 242, 249
Mousey, Messenger, physician to Chelsea
Hospital, 175
Montagu, Elizabeth (Robinson), author-
ess, Essay on Shakespeare, 320
Montgomerie, Alexander, of Coilsfield, 68,
336
Montgomerie, David, of Lainshaw, 183/2.6,
348
Montgomerie, James, of Lainshaw, 5n.6,
64/1., 177
Montgomerie, Jean (Maxwell), widow of
preceding, 64-66, 94
MQNTGOM&GUE, MARGAKET, later wife of JB,
characterized, 196, 221, 237, 293; de-
scribed, rviii, 261, 284; notes on corre-
spondence with JB, acxii, xxiv; texts of
letters to JB, 94, 211-212, 218-220, 226-
229, 240-241, 243-245, 247-248, 251-^54,
334-337* 337-333, 34Q~34*, 34i~343>
343-345* 345-346, 34^-347; texts of let-
tors from JB, 207-208, 220-221, 232,
236-238, 257-262, 277-279, 309-311,
338~339 347; writes to JB, 210, 215, 216,
a5, a$i, 247-248, 249, 270, a86, 304;
JB writes to, aio, ai6, 218, 232, 241, 266,
75 303; introductory account of JB*s
courtship of, xvii-XTiii; dines with JB T
1115; visits Prostonficld with JB, 116-117;
JB drinks tea with, ia$; signs a jocular
contract not to marry JB, 177-178; ac-
companies JB to Ireland, 193-308; of-
fended with JB but reconciled, 194; JB
confesses he loves her rather than Mary
Ann Boyd, 196; JB very xmeasy because
he fears die is engaged, 196-197; assures
JB shd is not engaged, 197; vexes JB by
declining to go to Dublin, changes her
mind, aoo; JB asks advice as to whether
he should marry, from Templet, aocn-aoa,
a04 Dempster, 213; assures JB she will
help him marry whomever he chooses,
ao$-^04; JB wishes to marry, fto6; JB
apologises for display of angor towards,
ao/-ao8; JB stylea **my lady,*' aoS, ao0,
3 82
Index
210, 2i8, 221, 258; JB's marriage to, ap-
proved of (disapproved of) by John
Johnston, 209, by several unnamed ac-
quaintances, 210, by Lieut, John Boswell,
210, by Commissioner Cochrane, 210,
243, by Dr. Boswell, 210, by Dempster,
215, 225, 245-246, 270, 278, by Lord
Monboddo, 215, 218, 221, 225, 235, by
Temple, 222, 256, by Lady Crawford,
23 1 ) by Hume, 262, by Dr. Johnson, 288;
ill, 211-212, 243, 337; JB wavers be-
tween a marriage with and a marriage
of wealth, 213, 214, 216, 222, 235-236;
JB hurt by hints of other attachments of,
217, by talking of her faults, 221; hopes
to visit JB in Edinburgh, 219; JB fears
he has offended, 225, receives a letter
from, which makes him think she has
given him. up, 225; JB jealous over, 226,
232; refers to her debt, 227; Lord Mon-
boddo proposes to secure Lord Auchin-
leck's consent to JB's marriage to, 235,
238; JB proposes marriage and a life of
exile to, 236-238, and is accepted, 239-
241; Lord Auchinleck reluctantly con-
sents to JB's marriage to, 246; JB visits
and they solemnly engage themselves to
each other, 247-249; JB's summary of
the whole affair, 259260; JB promises
a portrait of himself, 248; JB rejoices at
being engaged to, 250; believes Lord
Auchinleck has a right to remarry, 252,
311; Lord Auchinleck summons to Au-
chinleck for a conference, 257-259; JB
hopes to make a French scholar of, 248,
263, 334r~335; her wedding ring, 266,
335-336; JB loses her letter of accept-
ance, 276, recovers it, 279; JB thinks her
opinion of herself might be raised by
having secured the affection of so fine a
fellow, 278; JB consults concerning min-
iature of himself, 278-279, about her
marriage gown, 279; older than JB, 284;
JB uneasy at not having letter from, a 99,
305, 304; Paoli much struck with her let-
ter of acceptance, 307; reads JB's Tour to
Corsica^ 335; deprecates inviting Paoli to
her wedding, 336, 340, 341; worried be-
cause JB has a cold, 344, 345; married to
JB, 348; marriage contract between JB
and, 348-349; mentioned passim^ on
practically every page from p. 198 to p.
2^
Montgomerie-Cuninghame, Capt. Alex-
ander, of Kirktonholm, visits Auchinleck,
55; JB enjoys serious conversation with,
65; agrees to accompany JB to Port-
patrick, 193; drinks to Douglas with JB,
194; accompanies JB to Irvine, Ayr, and
Ardmillan, 194; feels fatigued and goes
no further, 197; asks Margaret Mont-
gomerie to put off trip to Edinburgh,
219; his illnesses, 243-245, 247, 253-254,
344-345, 346; borrows JB's dog, 245; at
variance with Earl of Eglinton, 335; ex-
pects to see JB just returned from Lon-
don, 346; JB sends bitter oranges to, 347;
mentioned, 99, 229, 259, 279, 345
Montgomerie-Cuninghame, Elizabeth
(Montgomerie), of Lainshaw, wife of
Capt. Alexander Montgomerie-Guning-
hame, later Mrs. J. Beaumont, JB talks
of the family hypochondria with, 66,
about his engagement, 247; gives birth
to a daughter, 100; defends JB to Lord
Auchinleck, too; JB visits, 134; dines
with JB, 124, 126, 128; approves of JB's
Irish scheme and brings him home after
drinking to Douglas, 193-194; accom-
panies JB to Irvine, 194; JB writes to,
begging her to interpose in his father's
marriage scheme, 332; JB rejects aid of,
in placating Lord Auchinlcck, 20a, 309;
receives a letter from Lord Auchinlock,
344; mentioned, 99, a<), ^43* afe *&),
34i 345, 34<*
Montgomery, James William, Lord Advo-
cate, later Sir James, of Stanhope, Bt,
and Chief Baron of Exchequer, iu, u.j,&
Montgomery, Margaret (Scott), wife of
James William Montgomery, 34^
Montgomery, William, of Grey Abbey, 199
Montrose, James Graham* ist M* of, to
Moore, Rev, John, ordinary at Nwgat
14*
Morell, Thomas, D.D, t P*R.S* classical
scholar, a /a, 305
Morgagni, Giovanni Battiftta, anatomist,
*54
Morning Society, The Hague, 44
Morpeth, 135, 265
Index
383
Mount Alexander, Mary Angelica (De-
lachcrois), Countess of, 200, 203
Mount Alexander, Thomas Montgomery,
5th E. of, 200
Mountain (place), 79
Mountstuart, Charlotte Jane (Hickman-
Windsor), styled lady, wife of follow-
ing, 30/7,4
Mountstuart, John Stuart, styled Lord,
later 4th E. and ist M. of Bute, 2, 13/2.9,
14, 16., 30, 140, 162, 173, 209-211
Mudford, Atithony, JB's servant, 140, 145
Mure, William, Baron of Exchequer, 209
Murphy, Arthur, author, 283, 317, 319,
,$ao; The Citizen^ 115
Murphy, Robert K., xxvl
Murray, "Mrs.," of Stormont, 1 24, (One of
the unmarried ulsters of Lord Mansfield,
probably either Margaret or Nicholas
Helotu)
Murray, Alexander, advocate, later Lord
Ilenderland, 1 18
Murray, Lady Augusta (Mackeri'/ie), wife
of Sir William, 129
Murray, Fanny, Set* Eovss, Fanny (Mur-
ray)
Murray, Maj^Gon. James, son of Lord
George Murray, 203
Murray, (Jen, Lord John, son of John Mur-
ray, ist I), of Atholl, ia.$
Murray, Hem, Miss Nicholas Helen
('Nicky'), diwttrm of the Edinburgh
Assembly, ?tu4, 186*187
Wtlliimi, advocate, later Sir Wil-
liam, Bt,, and Lord Dumumtttt, 27, a 16
Nnplo*, 41$
Nupolwm Boniipwte, KVTL
National Library d Scotland, xxii
Noil I, Acliim, printer, tat)
Naill, JtmwH, tMuile t Ayr, 133, 945
NimhofT, Thorntons Baron von. ftv Thw>
(low, King of Corsica
New Church, Glasgow. Av St Andrews,
churrli at Glasgow
Now Inn Hull, Oxford, 445, 147-148
New Mercbtnton, Sttrlmgshirf, it 8/1*4
New York Public Library^ ,
d, of
Newark, 138^.3
Newbattle Abbey, seat of M. of Lothian,
114
Newcastle, 135, 265, 344
Newmilns, 79
Newry, 206
Newtown-Ardes, 202-204
Nicholls, Rev. Norton, 37, 85, 87
NIsbet, PMary, of Dirleton, later wife of
Walter Campbell of Shawfield, 36
Nisbet, Mary (Hamilton), wife of William
Nisbot of Dirleton, 36
North, Frederick, styled Lord North, later
( 2(l E. of Guilford, 223/2.4
North Briton, The, 146
Northallcrton, 267
Northumberland, Hugh (Smithson) Percy,
D. of, 176
Northumberland, 8
Northumberland House, i
Norton, Fletcher, later ist Baron Gnmtley,
75, 77. i<)5, 3^1
Norton (place), 265
Ocbiltroc, Andrew Stewart, ad Lord, 291
Ogilvy trial, 1 1 ;$tt. i
Oglethorpe, Gon James Edward, 163, 165-
167
Old Cartibus, 77
Oliver, tavern-keeper In Stewarton, 194
Ord, Elizabeth, daughter of Robert Ord,
later ad wife of Lord Braxfield, i i$ t ti6
Orel, Nancy, daughter of Robert Ord, 115,
116
Orel, Kobort, Chief Baron of Exchecquer,
Orme, Alexander, W*S n tat, 123
Orm<% Robert, historian, a/i
Orr, Thomas, innkeeper at Newtown, 203
Osborn, James M,, xxvi
Otway, Thomas, Orphan, 8; Venice Pre-
Overton* See Fullarton, William, of Over-
ton
Ovid, /Imorer, 335
Oxford, Edward Harlc% 4th E, of, 173
Oxford University, 77^,^ 146-156, 274-
a/5, a8s; BnlHol College, i^a; Bodleian
Library, 154-155; Christ Church, 150;
Jesus College, 154; Magdalen College
146; Trinity CoHefle, 154
386
Index
Sally. See Boswell, Sally
SalthiU, 158, 285
Sandeman, Robert, 20972,7
Sappho, 139/2.4
Saracen's Head Inn, Glasgow, 78
Sardinia, King of. See Charles Emmanuel
III
Sardinia, 316
Saunders, PWilliam, M.D., 142
Savage, Richard, poet, i68n.i
SCOTLAND (Scots manners, speech, &c,)?
Scots sarcasm, xi, 273, 294; manners bad
in, 273; Scots v. English accent, 9, 29;
English tone preferable to Scots, 167; hy-
perbolical modes of speech in, 29; Scots
grammar, an; Scotticisms, 85-86, 150
n.8, 293; heavy drinking in, 38; riots over
sale of meal in, 65; law the great profes-
sion in, xii; the illiberal race of Scots
lawyers, 112; agents and advocates, 131;
Court of Session no power to judge Par-
liamentary privilege, 174; Scots counsel
not educated for English bar, 174; cool-
ness and good sense of Scotsman, 39;
Scots family ideas, 119; Scots lass v. Eng-
lishwoman, 128; JB employs a Scots bar-
ber in London, 272; SJ's prejudice
against, 153, 312, 313; Scotsman going
home with a smile on his face, 295;
Scots burials, 341-342; see also Edinburgh
Scots Magazine, 55, 347
Scott, Mrs,, housekeeper for the Rev, Mr,
Dupont, 217
Scott, Alexander, legatee of Sir Andrew
Chadwick, 283-285
Scott, Geoffrey, 9672,4, 287^5
Scott, George Lewis, mathematician, 295
Scott, Maj,-Gen. John, of Balcomie, 24272,5
Scott, Walter, W.S., father of Sir Walter
Scott, 131
Scott, Sir Walter, 2472.8, 12272.2, 131/2.8,
26372.9; Heart of Midlothian., 2872.9; Guy
Mannering s 11972.6
Selkirk, Dunbar Hamilton Douglas, 4th E,
Of, 222
PSempill (MS has Sample), Willoughby,
at Donaghadee, 200
Session, Court of, method of conducting
business in, 31-33
Shakespeare, William, xxi, 263/2.2, 273,
280, 284, 318-319, 325, 351-353; / Henry
IV, 37; // Henry IV, 11671.9; Henry V,
319; Julius Caesar, 2772.8, 287; King
Leer, 319; Macbeth, 320, 322; Othello,
33, 109, 120; Richard III, 297; Romeo
and Juliet, 31872.6, 319; The Taming of
the Shrew, 29772.5
Shank, printer at Stratford, 283
Shelburne, William Petty, 2d E. of, later
ist M. of Lansdowne, 55
Sheldon, Capt. Thomas, 281
Sheldon, Mrs. Thomas, wife of preceding,
281, 283
Sheridan, Alicia, later Mrs, Joseph Lefanu,
elder daughter of Thomas Sheridan,
29372.9
Sheridan, Anne Elizabeth, later Mrs. Henry
Lefanu, younger daughter of Thomas
Sheridan, 29372.9
Sheridan, Charles Francis, older son of
Thomas Sheridan, 293
Sheridan, Richard Rrinsley, 17872., 29372.9
Sheridan, Thomas, actor and elocutionist,
father of preceding, 178, 273-274, 287,
290, 293, 297, 298, 304, 307, 316, 319
Shirley, William, dramatist, The Black
Prince, 295
Sibthorpe, Mary Ann (Cochrane), wife of
Robert Sibthorpe, 221
Sibthorpe, Robert, of County Down, Ire-
land, 22171,6
Sidney, Algernon, republican, 1 1
Siege of Carrickftfrgm, Tha 9 song, 187/1.4
Siena, Italy, xvi, a
Simson, Miss, prostitute, 142
Sinclair, Mr. 7 186
Sinclair, George, of Ulbster, 243
Sinclair, Lady Janet, wife of preceding, 243
Sinclair, Sir John, of Ulbster, Bt, 24371.
Sinclair, PRobert, advocate, 35
Sitwell, William, master of Ironmongers 1
Company, 265
Skerrington, See Campbell, John^ of Sker
rington
Skye, 249
Sleat, Skye, 14371,7
Slough, 146, a 74
Small, John, mater of Court of Session,
134-139
Smeaton, Rev, David, seceding minister,
Smith, Dr. Sn* Smith, ?James Carwichael
Index
387
Smith, Adam, political economist, 34, 81;
Theory of Moral Sentiments, 218^.4,
336; Wealth of Nations, 34*2.8
Smith, PEIizabeth (Hoodie), wife of Dr.
Robert Smith of Ferret, 1 29
Smith, ? James Cannichacl, M.D., 142
Smith, John, M.D., professor of geometry
at Oxford, 150, 154-155, 2 %
Smith, Warren H., xxvi
Smith w. Steel, 173
Smollett, Tobias George, 59^.8; Pvmgrinc
Pickle, i73,t; Roderick Random, 291^.3
Smyth, Edward, M.P. in Irish Parliament,
UO4-4O5
Smythe, Jatnos Moore, 318/1.3
Solicitor General, Scotland. Sec Dimdas,
Henry
Soilucaro, Corsica, 302
Sommolsdyck, F. (1 van Aorsson van, 44,
a6i
Sommekdyek, family, laa
Sornbeg, 43, 65
South, Robert, D.D,, Sermons Preached
upon Ntwcral Occasions^ 331
Sowtlon, w'tor, tat -ism
Spain, <)6r*4, 307
Spearman, PRalph, Newcastle attorney, 136
Spectator* Stfc under Addisou
Spmuu*, Joseph, literary and art critic, 77
%enccu\ Hon. John, father of following,
er, John Spencer, ist K.,
Sputtiswood, John, Archbishop of St, An-
drewi, a^6
Kpringvule, nc^iit of George MuthewB, 199
Stadtiiolder, &W William V, Prince of
Orange
Stair, 60/1.3
Stanley, John, mimciiun, a 73
Stanynn, Ahrahntn, diplomat! An Amount
of $wits#rlan<li g$
Stofwenn, Georgn f Shakespi)arima editor^ 333
Stauart, Mitt! of Stuuart Hall, a if)
%Steuart, A, Frtncis f Tfa* Douglas
Sti>wrt| Archibald, of Steuftrt Hall, 64
Stuuart, DaTid, W.S,, a*6
Stouart, Sir Jam^ Bt, later Steutrt-Den-
ham, 046^147; Inquiry into th* Principle
of Political Economy^ ga t a4
Stevenson, Alexander, Under-clerk of Ses-
sion, 216
Stevenson, James, Edinburgh, 26
Stevenson, John, Professor of Logic, Edin-
burgh University, 128, 15 int.
Stevenson, Robert Louis, Weir of Hermis-
ton y ii8/z.3
Stewart, ? Alexander, later loth Lord Blan-
tyre ("Mr. Stewart of Blantyre"), 222,
242
Stewart, Alexander, of Mount Stewart and
Bally lawn Castle, 203
Stewart, Archibald, of Tobago, 3d son of
Sir Michael Stewart of Blackball, 249,
253
Stewart, Francis, nephew of Alexander
Montgomerie, loth E. of Eglinton, 150
155, 166, 275
Stewart, Lady Jane (Douglas). See Doug-
las, Lady Jane
Stewart, Sir John, of Grandtully, Bt., hus-
band of Lady Jane Douglas, xiii, 172
Stewart" Nicolson, Houston, 40, 132
Stewarton, 64, 194, 251
Stilton, 13812,3, 268
Stobie, John, clerk to Lord Auchinleck, 31,
43aio
Stockdale, Rev. Pcrcival, author, 8
Stonefield (John Campbell), Lord, 121
Slow, Miss, elder sister of Anne Stow, 6
Stow, Anne. See Temple, Anne (Stow)
Stow, Fenwick, grandfather of W, J.
Temple, 179
Strange, Robert, later Sir Robert, engraver,
Descriptive Catalogue of Picture, 214
Strangford Bay, 199
Stranraor, 197
Stratford Jubilee, xv, xxi, 269, 271, a 72,
Z/^79, 280-285, aga, 395, 31111,8,
Stratford-on-Avon, a63n.a > 280-285
Strathaven, 43, 103
Streathaxn, 313, 342
Stretch, Ret. Laurence M,, The Bmutm
of History 399
Stricken (Alexander Fraaar), Lord, 115,
169-170
Stuart, Andrew, W.S, aoo
Stuart, Lieut-CoL Jamas Archibald, latur
Stuart-Wortley-Macksnzie, son of $d E,
of Bute, sktin.7
3 88
Index
Stuart, Margaret (Cunynghanie), wife of
preceding, 211, 248, 253
"Supporters of the Bill of Rights," group of
Wilkes's friends, 300
Sutherland, Alexander, Bath physician,
294-295
Sutherland, Elizabeth Sutherland, Countess
of, 236
Sutherland, Capt. James, later 5th Baron
Duffus, 242/2,5
Sweet Willy 0, song, 269/2.
Swift, Jonathan, 9172.9, 175^-8; Conduct
of the Allies, 176-177
Swinton, John, advocate, later Lord Swin-
ton, 245
Swintons, two Mr. from Scotland, 281.
(Possibly the preceding and his father,
John Swinton of Swinton, d. 1774, also
an advocate.)
Switzerland, 2, 18
Tait, Miss, mantua-maker, 94
Tait, Alexander, Cleric of Session, 38, 129,
209
Tait, Mrs. Alexander, wife of preceding,
38
Tait, John, W.S., 185
Taylor, William, legal agent, 31
Temple, Anne, wrongly printed Ann,
(Stow), wife of W. J. Temple, described,
972.8, 84; Temple reluctantly intends to
marry, 61, 71 and .*}; married to Tem-
ple, 81-82; Temple happy with, 89; JB
wishes for such a wife, 102; JB seeks ad-
vice from, on Miss Blair's indifference,
112; her pregnancy, 120, 128, 179; JB
asks about her age, 202; sends compli-
ments to JB, 85, 93, 99, 101, 106; JB
sends compliments to, 86, 87, 92, 94, 103,
109, 112, 184; mentioned, 3, 6, 34, 91,
181, 265, 338-339
Temple, Rev. William Johnson, notes on
JB's correspondence with, xxii, xxiii;
texts of JB's letters to, 3-5, 5-11, 21-24,
31-32, 32-35, 36-38, 49-51, 71-72, 73-
74, 75-76, 80-81, 82-83, 84, 85-86, 86-
87, 89-91, 91-92, 93~-94, 100-101, 101-
103, 103-105, 108-109, 109-112, 135-
128, 178-181, 181-184, 200-202; texts of
letters to JB, 47-499 61-62, 62-63, 72-73,
79-80, 8*~8a, 84-85, 88-
89, 93, 97-99, 105-106, 119-120, 133-
134; JB writes to, 163, 165/2.2 and 72.3,
232; writes to JB, 60; JB's friendship
with, 3/2.5, 6, 33, 38, 74-75, 9*~93; in-
tends with reluctance to marry Anne
Stow, 9.8, 61-62, 71/2.5; marries Anne
Stow, 81-82; becomes a clergyman, 21;
his passion for the maid-servant, 61-63,
complains of his relations, 74; visits
Adamtown and Auchinleck, 78-79; ap-
plies to JB for loan, 93; advises on add-
ing to Auchinleck, 98-99; complains of
his "vile house," 133-134; JB's literary
executor, 14272.4; JB godfather to his son,
182, 339
Opinions,, Auchinleck, Lord, JB's rela-
tions with, 23, 97-98, 252; Blair, Cath-
erine, and JB's pursuit of, xvii, 72, 80,
81, 105, 119-120, 133; Corsica, Account
/ 5 75> 85, 98, 100, 104; death and God,
63; divines in ecclesiastical history, 21-
22; Dodds, Mrs,, 47-49, 62, 72, 82, 88,
106; Douglas cause, 72-73; happiness,
33; marriage, 105, 222; Montgomerie,
Margaret, 256; Piccolomini, Girolama,
73; Rousseau, 22; mentioned, xx\ 9071,6,
228, 252, 262, 26371.2, 336
Theodore, King of Corsica, 305
Theatre Royal, Richmond Green, Rich-
mond, 296
Thirty-Nine Articles, 160, 380-381
Thistle Banking Company, Glasgow, 1 1871,4
Thomas, JB's servant. See Bdmondson
Thomas, servant to Mr. Herries, 142
Thomson, James, poet, 175; Winter, 23
Thrale, Henry, 313
Thrale, Mrs. Hester Lynch (Salisbury),
later Mrs. Piozzi, 3ia-^i4, 34*
Tickell, Thomas*, poet, 334
Tilquhilly. See Douglas, John, of Tilqu*
hilly
Tinker, Chauncey B., Young BosuxtU, xvi.
Tissot^ Simon Andri, M.D., Essay on the
Diseases Incident to Literary and Sedent-
ary Persons, a 14
Tooke, Andrew, schoolmaster,
Topham, Mrs., JB*s coach
Torre, Lillian da la, xxvi;
a66
Heir of
Index
389
Townshend, George Townshend, 4th V.,
later ist M., 207
Trabboch, Auchiulcck, 60
Traill, James, D.D., Bishop of Down and
Connor, 205
Trecothick, Barlow, alderman of London,
142
Treesbank, 64, 193, 12 tc), 347
Trelawny, Sir Jonathan, Bt,, Bishop of
Bristol, of Exeter, and of Winchester,
127
Trcmamondo, Domcnico Angelo Malevolti,
fencing-master, 282
Trot'/-, Christian Henry (Trotzius), pro-
fessor at Utrecht, 205
Tundcrgarthy 95/2.1, 97
Turenne, Henri cle In Tour d'Auvcrgne,
Vicomte (le, 32 1
Turkey, a86.2
Turnbull's Inn, Alnwick, 135
Tuxford, iit> 7
Tyers, Thomas, author, 333
Utrecht, Holland, a, 61, 143
Valencia, Spain, 97
ValloyfioM, 1 14^.3
Vnnbrugh, Sir John, The Provoked Wife,
308; and Colley Gibber, 77*' Provoked
Husband * 148, 149/1.7, 263
Vaughtm, Samuel, merchant, 289
Venice, 17/1,7-, 159
Victor, Benjamin, theatrical manager, aBi
Vigliawiftclu, Fnxtorick, supposed son of
Theodore, King of Corsica, 305
Virgil, 304; Aeneld^ it, *& fli; ffat agues*
i86\ 1 88; <3w#iVtf, /4w 89
Voltaire, Francois Marie Arcmet de, letter
from JB, 45 47; t 70, .^ f ^f'K *f>3^
a 7,^, ,^ao; Candida 304/1,51
Vyse, (ran, Richard, 5184
Vyw, Ev. William, father of proofing,
Waingrow, Mrs, Hope G., i
Wnlngrow, Mawhall, vi
Waldron, Francu Godolphin, actor, 5297
Wak, Samuel, R,A., a88
Watford, Samuel, at Stratfoi*d^oiATon
Walker, Isabel, one of Lady Jane Douglas's
maids, 73
Walker, Rev. Robert, minister of the New
Church, Edinburgh, 239
Wallace, George, advocate, 26, 66
Wallace, Thomas, Pmerchant of Cumnock,
68
Wallace, Sir Thomas, of Craigie, Bt., 197
Wallace, William, advocate, 209
Wallace, William, Professor of Scots law
at Edinburgh, 66, 238-239
Waller, Edmund, poet, 304
Walpole, Horace, later 4th E. of Orford,
letter from JB, 132; gin.S; Supplement
to the Letters of Horace Walpole, 132)^.2
Walsh, Joseph L., xxv
Ward, Henry, dramatist, The Vintner
Tricked^ 132
Ward, John, M.P., 289
Wardlaw (Elizabeth Halkett), Lady, of
Pitreavie, poetess, Hardyknute; A Frag-
ment, 321
Wardlaw, 65-66
Warfel, Mrs. Phyllis C, xxvi
Warnock, Bobert, xxvi
Warnock cause, 41
Washington, George, 160/2.9, 289/2.8
Waterhead, See McAdain, James, of Water-
head
Way man, Luke, M.D. 9 161
Weah\ Fulko, printer at Stratford, 282
Webster, Alexander, DJ)., 114, 135/2.8, 210,
a 1 4, a 16/1.9
Wevbster, Annie, daughter of Dr. Alex.
Webster, lattzr Mrs. Mingay, a 16, 263
Wobstor, George, son of Dr, Alex. Webster,
a 13,215, a4a-343%
Webster, Capt. (later Lieut. -Col.) James,
mm of Dr. Alox, Webster, 135, 263
Webster, Mary (Erskine), wife of Dr.
Alex* Webster, 11417.4
Wdbrtw, William, son of Dr. Alex* Web-
ster, 19
Weis t Charles McC,, x^cvi
Wentworth,, Sir Thomas, Bt, lat^r Sir
Thomas Blackett, 249, ^50, aga
Watherby, 6;
Whitbum^ ao8, $> 841, 249
WKto Lion, inn at Stratford, 280/1,7
Whitofield, George, ovaixgelist, 101, 314
3QO Index
Whitefoord, Sir John, of Blairquhan, Bt,
123, 222
Wilkes, John, JB believes his song Hamil-
ton Cause has the force of, 27; meets Dr.
Johnson, 83/2.7; JB sees on the hustings
in the Guildhall, 142; political uproar
over, 146, 155; elected for Middlesex,
iS) *59; imprisonment, 28672.8; Lord
Mansfield averse to talking of, 173; JB
wishes to visit, but is prevented by mo-
tives of prudence, 286; controversy over
status of, 288; writings criticized by Wil-
liam Guthrie, 144; JB mistaken by a
voter for, 148; Chinese's remark about,
285; French translation of the Account of
Corsica sent to, 286; anecdote of Lord
Eliock's perpetual smile, 295; Essay on
Woman, 115/2.6; mentioned, 2, 168/1.3,
300/1.3
Wilkie, John, publisher, 90
Wilkinson, Tate, actor, 136
Will, butcher's man, London, 142
William III, King of England, Scotland,
and Ireland, 200/2,1
William V, Prince of Orange, 45
Williams, Anna, poetess, 269, 312, 326
Willison, George, painter, 161-162, 238,
241
Wilmot, James, D,D., 154
Wilson, Andrew, M.D,, 135-*^ 266
Wilson, Mrs. Andrew, wife of preceding,
Wilson, Janet (Simson), wife of following,
99
Wilson, John, bailie and merchant of
Kilmarnock, 64, 65
Wilson, William, W.S., 25, 27, 131
Wilton, Joseph, sculptor, 159
Windsor, 158
Winn, George, Baron of Exchequer, 129
Wollaston, William, moral philosopher, 63
Wood, Capt. ? Alexander, army officer, 249
Wood, Robert, Under Secretary of State,
300
Woodstock, 276, 279
Wooler Haugh Head, 265
Wright, Lieut-Col. William, 298
Wyvill, Christopher, LL.D., 77, 80, 82-85,
9*, 93, 94
York, 136-137
Yorke, Charles, Attorney General, later
Lord Chancellor, 75, 77
Yorke, Sir Joseph, Kt, later B, Dover, 44
Yorkshire, 7
Young, Edward, poet, Night Thought^ 32^
Zflide. See Zuylen, Belle do
Zoffany, John, R,A., 281/1.2
Zuylen, Belle de, rd, 2, 7, 8, 35, 103, 115,
*39, H3, 15^7 1^3, 165, 179, 353H.7
Zuylen, Diederik Jacob vim Tuyll van
Serooskerken, Heer van, father of pre-
ceding, 7
A MAP OF SCOTLAND AND IRELAND v
/oca tin a /nany o/ t/ie places mentioned in tne far/: \
10 20 30 40 50
f "
'^ ...
A MAP OF ENGLAND
locating many of tnc place* mentioned in f/ie
1 1 8 467
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