Bosville in Yorkshire; but I fear, my lot being cast in Scotland, that
beauty would not be content. She is, however, grave; I shall see.
There is a young lady in the neighbourhood here who has an estate of
her own between two and three hundred a year, just eighteen, a genteel
person, an agreeable face, of a good family, sensible, good-tempered,
cheerful, pious. You know my grand object is the ancient family of
Auchinleck—a venerable and noble principle. How would it do to
conclude an alliance with the neighbouring princess, and add her lands
to our dominions? I should at once have a very pretty little estate, a
good house, and a sweet place. My father is very fond of her: it would
make him perfectly happy: he gives me hints in this way:—‘I wish you
had her,’—‘No bad scheme this; I think it a very good one.’ But I
will not be in a hurry; there is plenty of time.”
Writing to Mr. Temple on the 12th June, Boswell omits all reference to
Miss Bosville, but extols “the young lady in his neighbourhood” as a
kind of goddess.
“The lady in my neighbourhood,” he writes, “is the finest woman I
have ever seen. I went and visited her, and she was so good as to
prevail with her mother to come to Auchinleck, where they stayed four
days, and in our romantic groves I adored her like a divinity. I have
already given you her character. 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.”
In his next letter to Mr. Temple, Boswell reveals that his “angelic
princess” is “Miss Blair, of Adamtown,” adding that on the preceding
Tuesday he had got inebriated in drinking her health, and in that
condition had committed miserable follies. He proceeds:—
“You must resolve to visit my goddess. You are a stranger, and may
do a romantic thing. You shall have consultation guineas, as an
ambassador has his appointments. You see how I use you. In short,
between us two, all rules and all maxims are suspended. Pray prepare
yourself for this adventure; we shall settle it, I hope; I cannot
go with you, though. You are to see our country for a jaunt upon my
recommendation.”
Boswell was practical for once. In assuring his reverend friend that
he would have his “consultation guineas” he meant that his travelling
costs would be defrayed should he consent to visit Ayrshire, and
recommend him to Miss Blair. The proposal was acceded to. Mr. Temple
agreed to proceed on his mission at once on being furnished with the
needful instructions. Before the end of July he was in Scotland,
provided with an itinerary, from which we extract the following:—
“_Wednesday._—Thomas[43] will bring you to Adamtown a little after
eleven. Send up your name; if possible, put up your horses there,
they can have cut grass; if not, Thomas will take them to Mountain, a
place a mile off, and come back and wait at dinner. Give Miss Blair my
letter. Salute her and her mother; ask to walk. See the place fully;
think what improvements should be made. Talk of my mare, the purse,
the chocolate. Tell them you are my very old and intimate friend.
Praise me for my good qualities, you know them; but talk also how
odd, how inconstant, how impetuous, how much accustomed to women of
intrigue. Ask gravely, ‘Pray don’t you imagine there is something
of madness in that family?’ Talk of my various travels, German
princes, Voltaire and Rousseau. Talk of my father, my strong desire
to have my own house. Observe her well. See how amiable! Judge if
she would be happy with your friend. Think of me as the great man at
Adamtown—quite classical, too! Study the mother. Remember well what
passes. Stay tea. At six order horses and go to New Mills, two miles
from Loudoun; but if they press you 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.”
Instructions more extraordinary were never before delivered by lovesick
swain to the friend of his suit. That friend was to inform the lady of
his affections that he was “much accustomed to women of intrigue;” that
he was “odd,” “inconstant,” and “impetuous;” and he was even to hint
that there was madness in his family. That Boswell should have brought
his friend 500 miles so to describe him to the lady of his affections
is not the least remarkable feature of his strange career. Mr. Temple,
it is hoped, was more discreet than his client.
On his return to Mamhead Mr. Temple married a gentlewoman who brought
him a fortune of £1,300. Boswell wrote to Miss Blair, thanking her for
her attention to his friend, but the lady was silent. Her suitor became
perplexed; he feared that a certain nabob had “struck in,” or that
Temple “had told her his faults too honestly.” At length, after he had
endured the miseries of “a feverish disorder, the lady relented, and
sent him a most agreeable letter.” She made an excuse that a letter
of his had been delayed at the Ayr post office; but he had written
several. On the 28th August he again communicates with Mr. Temple. He
assumes the designation of a sovereign prince, and holds the clergyman
as his ambassador.
“Are you not happy,” he writes, “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 on the
subject. You will find the letter I wrote her when ill, where you will
see a Scots word _roving_, from the French _rêver_, as if to dream
awake. I put it down as a good English word, not having looked in
Johnson. You will next find the lady’s answer, then a long letter from
me, which required an extraordinary degree of good sense and temper to
answer it with an agreeable propriety; then her answer, which exceeds
my highest expectations. Read these papers in their order, and let me
have your excellency’s opinion. Am I not now as well as I can be? What
condescension! what a desire to please! She studies my disposition,
and resolves to be cautious, &c. Adorable woman! Don’t you think I had
better not write again till I see her? I shall go west in a fortnight,
but I can hardly restrain myself from writing to her in transport. I
will go to Adamtown and stay a week. I will have no disguise; we shall
see each other fairly. We are both independent; we have no temptation
to marry but to make each other happy. Let us be sure if that would be
the consequence.”
On the 5th of November Boswell writes to Mr. Temple from Adamtown:—
“MY DEAR TEMPLE,—The pleasure of your countenance in reading the date
of this letter is before me at this moment.... In short, I am sitting
in the room with my princess, who is at this moment a finer woman than
ever she appeared to me before. But, my valuable friend, be not too
certain of your Boswell’s felicity, for indeed he has little of it at
present.... For ten days I was in a fever, but at last I broke the
enchantment. However, I could not be too sullen in my pride; I wrote
to her from Auchinleck, and wished her joy, &c.; she answered me, with
the same ease as ever, that I had no occasion. I then wrote her a
strange sultanish letter, very cold and very formal, and did not go to
see her for near three weeks....
“But the princess and I have not yet made up our quarrel; she talks
lightly of it. I am resolved to have a serious conversation with her
to-morrow morning. If she can still remain indifferent as to what
has given me much pain, she is not the woman I thought her, and from
to-morrow morning shall 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.”
After an interval of three days Boswell again communicated with Mr.
Temple:—
“_Auchinleck, Sunday, 8th November, 1767._
“I wrote you from Adamtown, and told you how it was with the princess
and me. Next morning I told her that I had complained to you that she
would not make up our last quarrel, but she did not appear in the
least inclined to own herself in the wrong. I confess that, between
pride and love, I was unable to speak to her but in a very awkward
manner. I came home on Friday; yesterday I was extremely uneasy. That
I might give her a fair opportunity, I sent her a letter, of which I
enclose you a copy. Could the proud Boswell say more than you will see
there? In the evening I got her answer; it was written with an art and
indifference astonishing from so young a lady:—‘I have not yet found
out that I was to blame. If you have been uneasy on my account, I am
indeed sorry for it; I should be sorry to give any person uneasiness,
far more one whose cousin and friend I shall always be.’...
“In short, Temple, she is cunning, and sees my weakness. But I now
see her; and though I cannot but suffer severely, I from this moment
resolve to think no more of her. I send you the copy of a note which
goes to her to-morrow morning. Wish me joy, my good friend, of having
discovered the snake before too late. I should have been ruined had
I made such a woman my wife. Luckily for me, a neighbour who came to
Auchinleck last night told me that he had heard three people at Ayr
agree in abusing her as a jilt. What a risk have I run! However, as
there is still a possibility that all this may be mistake and malice,
I shall behave to her in a very respectful manner, and shall never
say a word against her but to you. After this I shall be upon my guard
against ever indulging the least fondness for a Scotch 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.”
Subsequent letters from Boswell to Mr. Temple contain these
passages:—“Upon my soul, the madness of which I have a strong degree
in my composition is at present so heightened by love that I am
absolutely deprived of judgment.... One great fault of mine is talking
at random; I will guard against it.” Referring to the object of his
hopes at Adamtown, he writes:—“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.” “Temple, I ventured to seize her
hand. She is really the finest woman to me I ever saw.”
To Mr. Temple, on the 24th December, he wrote thus:—
“In my last I told you that after I had resolved to give up with the
Princess for ever, I resolved first to see her. I was so lucky as to
have a very agreeable interview, and was convinced by her that she was
not to blame. This happened on a Thursday; that evening her cousin and
most intimate friend, the Duchess of Gordon, came to town. Next day I
was at the concert with them, and afterwards supped at Lord Kames’s.
The Princess appeared distant and reserved. I could hardly believe
that it was the same woman with whom I had been quite gay 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.”
Boswell subjoins a dialogue between “the Princess” and himself.
“You are very fond of Auchinleck,” said Boswell in his pleading.
“I confess I am,” responded the lady; “I wish I liked you as well
as I do Auchinleck.” There had been repeated meetings and lengthy
conversations, but Boswell could not extract a promise, and knew not
what to think. He begs that Mr. Temple will consult with his wife,
and thereupon advise him. Towards the close of his letter he writes,
“Amidst all this love I have been wild as ever.... To-morrow I shall
be happy with my devotions.... Could you assist me to keep up my real
dignity among the illiterate race of Scots lawyers?”
To Mr. Temple he writes from Edinburgh on the 8th February, 1768:—
“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 Mid-Lothian, a young man
about thirty, who has £1,600 a year of estate, was formerly an officer
in the Guards, and is now one of the clerks of the Board of Green
Cloth, a thousand 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 in my last, I had a title to
know the truth. I wrote to her seriously, and told her if she did not
write me an answer I should believe the report to be true. After three
days I concluded from her silence that she was at least engaged. I
endeavoured to laugh off my passion, and I got Sir Alexander Gilmour
to frank a 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.”
To ask a gentleman to frank a letter for him addressed to a young
lady of whom they were rival lovers was an act of eccentricity
befitting Boswell only. In the letter above quoted he proceeds to
inform Mr. Temple that the heiress having come to town, he began to
apprehend that her affections were engaged by a Mr. Fullerton, whom
he describes as his “old rival, the nabob.” So he procured the nabob’s
acquaintance, and they called on the heiress together. She received
them courteously, but with greater than wonted reserve. Boswell was
determined to know the worst. He entertained Mr. Fullerton to supper
at the house of a relative, and the same evening took him to a tavern
and warmed him “with old claret.” As anticipated, Mr. Fullerton became
very communicative, admitting that he had been assiduous in attending
Miss Blair, but had received no suitable encouragement. He and Boswell
remained together long after midnight, and before separating agreed
that each on the morrow should visit the heiress, and make proposals
to her. Boswell made sure to reach first, as he went to breakfast; he
proposed, and was refused. The nabob called on Miss Blair an hour or
two afterwards, and was overpowered with her coldness.
“Now that all is over,” Boswell sums up, “I see many faults in her
which I did not see before.... I am, however, resolved to look out for
a good wife either here or in England.... The heiress is a good Scots
lass, but I must have an Englishwoman. You cannot say how fine a woman
I may marry. Perhaps a Howard, or some other of the noblest in the
kingdom.”
Finally, to assure his correspondent that he was not distracted by
rejection or disappointed hope, he embodied in his communication the
following somewhat splenetic verses at the expense of the “princess:”—
“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.[44]
“And when with ardent vows I swore,
Loud as Sir Jonathan Trelawney,
The heiress showed me to the door,
And said she’d have the knight Sir Sawney.
“She told me, with a scornful look,
I was as ugly as a tawny;
For she a better fish could hook,
The rich and gallant knight Sir Sawney.”
In his next letter to Mr. Temple, dated London, 24th March, Boswell
expresses his joy that he is rid of Miss Blair, and informs him that
he and “a charming Dutchwoman” have renewed correspondence. Under the
name of Zelide she is frequently mentioned in his previous letters;
he had formed her acquaintance at Utrecht. Zelide is commended as
fair, lively, sensible, and accomplished; and is so deeply attached
to the writer that he feels he cannot be unhappy with her. By having
translated into French his work on Corsica she has shown a just
appreciation of his literary tastes.
Contrary to his usual habit, Boswell on this occasion consulted both
his father and his friend. Zelide, he said, was “willing to meet him
without any engagement;” but his counsellors were unwilling that any
meeting should be held. Writing to Mr. Temple on the 16th April he
admits that Zelide had faults, but time, he thinks, may have altered
her for the better, as it had in some measure altered himself. However,
he was willing, in deference to his advisers, to renounce Zelide. In a
postscript he asks Mr. Temple’s opinion of Miss Dick,[45] “with whom
he dined agreeably.” He describes her as “fine, healthy, young, and
amiable,” though lacking “a good fortune.” He acknowledges that he had
many wanton passions, “and had lately been wild as ever.” He is much
disappointed that his correspondent, to whom he had previously offered
a visit, had no spare bed: he will visit him after all, and “they will
sit up all night together.”
On the 26th April he informs Mr. Temple that Zelide is not yet given
up. He had received a letter from her, “full of good sense and
tenderness,” and he had asked his father to allow him to visit her at
Utrecht. “How do we know,” he proceeds, “but she is an inestimable
prize? Surely it is worth while to go to Holland to see a fair
conclusion, one way or other, of what has hovered in my mind for years.
I have written to her and told her all my perplexity; I have put in
the plainest light what conduct I actually require of her, and what
my father will require. I have bid her be my wife at present, and
comfort me with a letter, in which she shall show at once her wisdom,
her spirit, and her regard for me. You shall see it. I tell you, man,
she knows me and values me as you do.” Boswell adds that he has been
suffering from a distemper induced by social indulgence, and vows that
he “shall never again behave in a manner so unworthy the friend of
Paoli.”
Disappointment still ruled. In a letter, dated 14th May, Boswell
informs Mr. Temple that he had received a letter from Zelide. Most
gently had he referred to her “levity and infidel notions,” and she had
proved a “termagant and scorched him.” He had assured his father that
Mademoiselle would not suit him as a wife; she, however, might be “a
good correspondent.”
Unaccepted as a lover, Zelide declined becoming a correspondent; she
was soon forgotten. Mr. Temple was opposed to Miss Dick, and Boswell,
though he disapproved his friend’s opinion, began to look elsewhere.
After two months,[46] he writes to Mamhead, that he had found another
mistress—a certain Mary Anne, an Irish beauty. He congratulates
himself on having escaped “the insensible Miss B. and the furious
Zelide,” and “rejoices in the finest creature that ever was formed,
_la belle Irlandaise_.” “Imagine to yourself, Temple,” he adds,
“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
councillor-at-law, with the estate of £1,000 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.” He adds, “Upon my
honour I never was so much in love; I never was before in a situation
to which there was not some objection, but here every flower is united,
and not a thorn to be found.... What a fortunate fellow am I! What a
variety of adventures in all countries! I was allowed to walk a great
deal with Miss——; I repeated my fervent passion to her again and
again; she was pleased, and I could swear that her little heart beat. I
carved the first letter of her name on a tree; I cut off a lock of her
hair, _male pertinax_. She promised not to forget me, nor to marry a
lord before March.... 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 ... for six months. I am hitherto firm to my vow, and already
feel myself a superior being.... In short, Maria has me without any
rival.”
Amidst these vows and assurances of amendment, Boswell acknowledges
that he had during the last two months “employed a great deal of time
in gaming,” and had thereby wasted his means. Within three months he
has forgotten Mary Anne, is again a visitor at Adamtown, and on his
knees before Miss Blair. That lady is provokingly curt, and Boswell
is assured by her mother that he had made such a joke of his love for
her in every company that she was piqued.[47] After “this relapse of
fever” has continued a few weeks he bids a second adieu to Adamtown,
and determines to renew his addresses to Mary Anne. “Then,” he writes,
“came a kind letter from my amiable aunt Boyd in Ireland, and all the
charms of sweet Mary Anne revived. Since that time I have been quite
constant to her, and as indifferent towards Kate as if I never had
thought of her.... After her behaviour, do I, the candid, generous
Boswell, owe her anything? Am I anyhow bound by passionate inclinations
to which she did not even answer? Write to me, my dear friend. She will
be here soon. I am quite easy with her. What should I do? By all that’s
enchanting I go to Ireland in March!”
To the letter just quoted Boswell adds two postscripts. In the first he
intimates that he is “a good deal in debt.” In the second, he remarks,
“My present misfortune is occasioned by drinking. Since my return to
Scotland I have fallen a great deal too much into that habit, which
still prevails in Scotland. Perhaps the coldness of the Scots requires
it, but my young 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.” Confessions which close the letter strongly proved that the
writer’s aspirations after perfection were altogether illusory.
In May, 1769, Boswell fulfilled his intention of visiting Ireland.
Through the influence of Mr. Sibthorpe, a landowner in the county or
Down, husband of one of his cousins, he was introduced into elegant and
lettered society. At Dublin he dined with Lord Charlemont, and met
such literary celebrities as Dr. Leland, Mr. Flood, Dr. Macbride, and
George Falconer, the friend of Swift and Chesterfield. More conspicuous
hospitalities which attended him at Dublin he deemed worthy of a place
in a reputed organ of fashionable intelligence. At his request the
_Public Advertiser_ informed its readers on the 7th of July that “James
Boswell, Esq., having now visited Ireland, he dined with his Grace
the Duke of Leinster at his seat at Carton: he went also by special
invitation to meet the Lord Lieutenant at his country seat at Leixlip,
to which he was conducted, in one of his Excellency’s coaches, by
Lieut.-Colonel Walshe. He dined there and stayed all night, and next
morning came in the coach with his Excellency to the Phœnix Park, and
was present at a review of Sir Joseph Yorke’s dragoons. He also dined
with the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor. He is now set out on his
return to Scotland.” In Ireland he remained six weeks, chiefly occupied
in prosecuting his suit. But the “charming Mary Anne” would only laugh
at his protestations. In deepest mortification he complained to his
cousin Margaret Montgomerie, who had accompanied him to Ireland. She
offered her sympathy, and Boswell in gratitude tendered his hand.
It was accepted cordially. Miss Montgomerie was not rich, but she
possessed largely what her lover entirely lacked—discretion and common
sense. Her pedigree justified her union with the heir of Auchinleck.
Paternally she was related to the noble house of Eglinton, and her
father, Mr. David Montgomerie, of Lainshaw, claimed the dormant peerage
of Lyle. To Lord Auchinleck the proposed union gave entire satisfaction.
The solemnization of the marriage was deferred till autumn. Meanwhile
Boswell resolved to pay another visit to the metropolis. Misfortune had
attended Paoli. With the sum of £700, which he raised by subscription,
Boswell, in August, 1768, shipped for Corsica a quantity of cannon
from the Carron Ironworks.[48] Whether the artillery reached its
destination, and to what extent it proved useful, has not been related.
Unable to overcome Paoli, the Genoese transferred Corsica to the
French, who accepting the gift, despatched an army under the Marshal
de Vaux to take possession. The inhabitants fought bravely, but were
overwhelmed by numbers. Paoli embarked on the 16th June, 1769, in an
English vessel bound for Leghorn. Crossing the Continent he repaired
to London, where he was hailed with the honours due to his patriotism.
Boswell hastened from Scotland to offer his respects. Paoli received
him warmly.