Part 15

“A strange accident happened; the house at Lowther was so crowded that I and two other gentlemen were laid in one room. On Thursday morning my wig was missing; a strict search was made, all in vain. I was obliged to go all day in my night-cap, and absent myself from a party of ladies and gentlemen who went and dined with the Earl on the banks of the lake,—a piece of amusement which I was glad to shun, as well as a dance which they had at night. But I was in a ludicrous situation. I suspected a wanton trick which some people think witty; but I thought it very ill-timed to one in my situation. Next morning the Earl and a colonel, who I thought might have concealed my wig, declared to me, upon honour they did not know where it was; and the conjecture was that a clergyman who was in the room with me, and had packed up his portmanteau in a great hurry to set out in the morning early, might have put it up among his things. This is very improbable; but I could not long remain an object of laughter, so I went twenty-five miles to Carlisle on Tuesday, and luckily got a wig there fitted for me in a few hours.”

On the 13th October Boswell informed Mr. Temple that on lately visiting Lowther Castle he received back his wig. “The way in which it was lost,” he adds, “will remain as secret as the author of Junius.”

Mr. Temple became urgent for repayment of a loan of £200, and in obtaining the necessary means Boswell severely taxed his resources. Referring to the debt, he assured his correspondent that he had, after deducting family costs, a free income of not more than £350, and that while he had been in straitened circumstances for twenty years, he dreaded that his embarrassments would continue. In a letter dated 28th November he returns to his pecuniary difficulties.

“The state of my affairs is very disagreeable; but be not afraid of your £200, as you may depend upon its being repaid. My rent-roll is above £1,600; but deducting annuities, interest of debts, and expenses absolutely necessary at Auchinleck, I have but about £850 to spend. I reckon my five children at £500 a year. You see what remains for myself.”... “I am this year to make one trial of the Lord Chancellor. In short, I cast about everywhere. I do not see the smallest opening in Westminster Hall; but I like the scene, though I have attended only one day this last term, being eager to get my ‘Life of Johnson’ finished. And the delusion that practice may come at any time (which is certainly true) still possesses me.” He adds, “I have given up my house, and taken good chambers in the Inner Temple, to have the appearance of a lawyer. O Temple! Temple! is this realizing any of the towering hopes which have so often been the subject of our conversation and letters? Yet I live much with a great man, who, upon any day that his fancy shall be so inclined, may obtain for me an office which would make me independent.”

Boswell could cherish no reasonable hope of professional advancement, save through the patronage of Lord Lonsdale. And the recent escapade at Lowther Castle might have shown him that sentiments of respect were unassociated with his lordship’s friendship. What he could not perceive in August, 1789, was made sufficiently plain in the following June. The narrative must be presented in his own words. Writing from Carlisle to Mr. Temple on the 21st June, 1790, he proceeds:—

“At no period during our long friendship have I been more unhappy than at present. The day on which I was obliged to set out from London I had no time allowed me after a most shocking conversation with Lord Lonsdale, and I hastened home in hopes of finding you, but you were gone out. It was to inform you that upon his seeing me by no means in good humour, he challenged it roughly, and said, ‘I suppose you thought I was to bring you into Parliament. I never had any such intention.’ In short, he expressed himself in the most degrading manner, in presence of a low man from Carlisle, and one of his menial servants. The miserable state of low spirits I had, as you too well know, laboured under for some time before made me almost sink under such unexpected insulting behaviour. He insisted rigorously on my having solicited the office of Recorder of Carlisle; and that I could not, without using him ill resign it until the duties which were now required of it were fulfilled, and without a sufficient time being given for the election of a successor. Thus was I dragged away as wretched as a convict; and in my fretfulness I used such expressions as excited him almost to fury, so that he used such expressions towards me that I should have, according to the irrational laws of honour sanctioned by the world, been under the necessity of risking my life, had not an explanation taken place.... I am down at an inn, in wretched spirits, and ashamed and sunk on account of the disappointment of hopes which led me to endure such grievances. I deserve all that I suffer. I may be kept hanging on for weeks, till the election and Midsummer Sessions are over; and I am at the same time distracted what to do in my own county, as to the state of which I expect letters every day. I am quite in a fever. O my old and most intimate friend, what a shocking state am I now reduced to! I entreat of you, if you possibly can, to afford me some consolation, directed to me here, and pray do not divulge my mortification. I will endeavour to appear indifferent; and as I now resign my Recordership, I shall gradually get rid of all communication with this brutal fellow.”

In Boswell’s correspondence Lord Lonsdale’s name only reappears once. Writing to Mr. Temple on the 21st July, he remarks, “I parted from the northern tyrant in a strange equivocal state, for he was half irritated, half reconciled; but I promise you I shall keep myself quite independent of him.”

Parliament was dissolved in July, and Boswell proposed once more to offer his services to the Ayrshire constituency. He ultimately determined more wisely, remarking to Mr. Temple that “he did not go to Ayrshire, finding that he could only show how small a party he had.”

Amidst these distractions, Boswell found leisure warmly to interest himself in two objects to which he had pledged his support. The first of these was to obtain subscribers for two volumes of sermons, published by his former tutor and early friend, Mr. John Dun, parish minister of Auchinleck.[96] In these volumes the reverend author attempted to ridicule the poet Burns. The following verses, a parody on the bard’s “Address to the Deil,” were regarded by Boswell without disfavour:—

“THE DEIL’S ANSWER TO HIS VERRA FREEND R. BURNS.

“So zealous Robin, stout an’ fell, True champion for the cause o’ hell, Thou beats the righteous down pell mell, Sae frank and frothy, That o’ a seat where devils dwell, There’s nane mair worthy.

* * * * *

“Thou does as weel’s could be expectit, O’ ane wha’s wit lay long neglectet; Some _godly folk_ your rhyme, I trow, Ca’ worthless blether; But be na feart, ye’s get your due, When we forgather.

* * * * *

“In hell when I read o’er your sang, Where rhymes come thun’ring wi’ a bang, Quoth I, trouth I’s see Rab or lang, An’ that’s be seen. Giff Nick should on me ride the stang To Aberdeen.”

Mr. Dun’s work was still-born. In a letter to Mr. Temple, Boswell regrets that his friend would, by his performance, be “a sad loser.”

While thus abetting the ridicule of the Ayrshire poet, Boswell’s other enterprize was more creditable. He gave assistance in raising funds for a monument to Dr. Johnson in Westminster Abbey. To this undertaking he thus refers in a letter to Mr. Temple, dated the 28th November, 1789:—

“Last Sunday I dined with him (Malone), with Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Metcalfe, Mr. Windham, Mr. Courtenay, and young Mr. Burke, being a select number of Dr. Johnson’s friends, to settle as to effectual measures for having a monument erected to him in Westminster Abbey; it is to be a whole-length statue of him, by Bacon, which will cost £600. Sir Joshua and Sir William Scott, his executors, are to send circular letters to a number of people, of whom we make a list, as supposing they will contribute. Several of us subscribed five guineas each, Sir Joshua and Metcalfe ten guineas each, Courtenay and young Burke two guineas each. Will you not be one of us, were it but for one guinea? We expect that the Bench of Bishops will be liberal, as he was the greatest supporter of the hierarchy. That venerable sound brings to my mind the ruffians of France, who are attempting to destroy all order, ecclesiastical and civil. The present state of that country is an intellectual earthquake, a whirlwind, a mad insurrection, without any immediate cause, and therefore we see to what a horrible anarchy it tends.”

The subject of the monument is resumed in Boswell’s letter to Mr. Temple, dated 8th February, 1790:—

“You will have seen that Johnson’s friends have been exerting themselves for his monument, which is to cost six hundred guineas. We have now near to £400 of the money. Can we have no Cornish coin? I wish you could assist us in your neighbourhood. As your character of Gray was adopted by him it would appear well if you sent two guineas. We shall have a great dispute as to the epitaph. Flood, the orator, though a distinguished scholar, says it should be in English, as a compliment to Johnson’s having perpetuated our language; he has compressed his opinion in these lines:—

“No need of Latin, or of Greek to grace Our Johnson’s memory and inscribe his grave; His native tongue demands this mournful space, To pay the immortality he gave.”

Johnson’s monument in Westminster Abbey was erected in 1796 at the cost of eleven hundred guineas; it was inscribed with a Latin epitaph composed by Dr. Parr. Mr. Temple’s name does not appear among the subscribers.

With the entire prostration of his political and professional expectations, Boswell relapsed into melancholy. In a letter to Mr. Temple dated 21st July he expresses himself in this earnest manner:—

“Surely, my dear friend, there must be another world in which such beings as we are will have our misery compensated. But is not this a state of probation? and if it is, how awful is the consideration! I am struck with your question, ‘Have you confidence in the Divine aid?’ In truth I am sensible that I do not sufficiently ‘_try_ my ways’ as the Psalmist says, and am ever almost inclined to think with you _that_ my great _oracle Johnson did allow too much credit to good principles, without good practice_.”

In this passage Dr. Johnson’s sentiments on practical religion are strangely perverted. Had not the great moralist warned his companion against vanity and self-deceit, and the substitution of good intentions for the active practice of virtue? In the autumn of 1790, Boswell’s intemperance was excessive. On the 4th December, he wrote to Mr. Malone in these words:—

“On the day after your departure, that most friendly fellow Courtenay[97] (begging the pardon of an M.P. for so free an epithet) called on me, and took my word and honour that, till the 1st of March, my allowance of wine per diem should not exceed four good glasses at dinner, and a pint after it; and this I have kept, though I have dined with Jack Wilkes; at the London Tavern, after the launch of an Indiaman with dear Edwards; Dilly; at home with Courtenay; Dr. Barrow; at the mess of the Coldstream; at the Club; at Warren Hastings’; at Hawkins the Cornish member’s; and at home with a colonel of the guards, &c. This regulation, I assure you, is of essential advantage in many respects.”

Like the vow under “the solemn yew” at Mamhead, the word of honour pledged to Mr. Courtenay was soon forgotten. On the 25th February, 1791, Boswell wrote to Mr. Malone as follows:—

“Your friendly admonition as to excess in wine has been often too applicable; but upon this late occasion I erred on the other side. However as I am now free from my restriction to Courtenay I shall be much upon my guard; for, to tell the truth, I did go too deep the day before yesterday, having dined with Michael Angelo Taylor, and then supped at the London Tavern with the stewards of the Humane Society.”

In his letter of the 4th December, Boswell affirms that his promise of sobriety extended till the 1st of March; he reports on the 25th of February, that the term had closed! His melancholy had returned. On the 7th of February Mr. Temple was addressed thus:—

“Before this time you have been informed of my having had a most miserable return of bad spirits. Not only have I had a total distaste of life, but have been perpetually gnawed by a kind of mental fever. It is really shocking that human nature is liable to such inexplicable distress. Oh, my friend, what can I do? * * * Your observation in a former letter, as to time being measured not only by days and years, but by an advancement in life, is new and striking, and is brought home to us both, especially to me, who have obtained no advancement whatever; but let me not harass you with my complaints.”

In his next letter to Mr. Temple, written on the 2nd of April, Boswell further expatiates on his melancholy. He writes:—

“Your kindness to me fairly makes me shed tears. Alas! I fear that my constitutional melancholy, which returns in such dismal fits, and is now aggravated by the loss of my valuable wife, must prevent me from any permanent felicity in this life. I snatch gratifications, but have no comfort, at least very little; yet your encouraging letters make me think at times that I may yet, by God’s blessing, attain to a portion of happiness, such as philosophy and religion concur in assuring us that this state of progressive being allows. I get bad rest in the night, and then I brood over all my complaints, the sickly mind which I have had from my early years—the disappointment of my hopes of success in life—the irrevocable separation between me and that excellent woman, who was my cousin, my friend and my wife; the embarrassment of my affairs—the disadvantage to my children in having so wretched a father—nay, the want of absolute certainty of being happy after death, the _sure prospect_ of which is frightful.”

Within a few months after sustaining that bereavement, which he still deplored, Boswell contemplated the repair of his shattered fortunes by contracting a second marriage. While in the North he wrote Mr. Temple in July, 1790. “I got such accounts of the lady of fortune, whose reputation you heard something of, that I was quite determined to make no advances. Whether I shall take any such step I doubt much. The loss I have experienced is perpetually recurring.”

Boswell resolved closely to watch his opportunity. His letter to Mr. Temple of the 2nd April, 1791, contains the following:—

“I am to dine with Sir William Scott, the King’s Advocate, at the Commons to-morrow, and shall have a serious consultation with him, as he has always encouraged me. It is to be a family party, where I am to meet Miss Bagnal (his lady’s sister) who may probably have six or seven hundred a year. She is about seven and twenty, and he tells me lively and gay—a Ranelagh girl—but of excellent principles, insomuch that she reads prayers to the servants in her father’s family every Sunday evening. ‘Let me see such a woman,’ cried I; and accordingly I am to see her. She has refused young and fine gentlemen. ‘Bravo,’ cried I, ‘we see then what her taste is.’ Here then I am, my Temple, my flattering self! A scheme—an adventure seizes my fancy. Perhaps I may not like her; and what should I do with such a companion, unless she should really take a particular liking to me, which is surely not probable; and, as I am conscious of my distempered mind, could I _honestly_ persuade her to unite her fate with mine. As to my daughters, did I see a rational prospect of so good a scheme, I should not neglect it on their account, though I should certainly be liberal to them.”

Miss Bagnal’s name does not reappear. But he informs Mr. Temple on the 22nd of August that his matrimonial plans were still active:—

“You must know,” he writes, “I have had several matrimonial schemes of late. I shall amuse you with them from Auchinleck. One was Miss Milles, daughter of the late Dean of Exeter, a most agreeable woman ‘_d’un certain âge_,’ and with a fortune of £10,000; she has left town for the summer. It was no small circumstance that she said to me, ‘Mr. Temple is a charming man.’”

The progress of Boswell’s _magnum opus_ has been traced to the 4th December, 1790. On the 12th of that month the author wrote to Mr. Temple:—

“My work has met with a delay for a little while—not a whole day, however—by an unaccountable neglect in having paper enough in readiness. I have now before me p. 256. My utmost wish is to come forth on Shrove Tuesday (8th March).”

Mr. Malone was now in Ireland, and Boswell, in reporting to him the progress of his undertaking, also communicated the miserable details of his private embarrassments. In a letter to Mr. Malone, dated the 18th January, 1791, he writes thus:—

“I have been so disturbed by sad money matters that my mind has been quite fretful; £500 which I borrowed and lent to a first cousin, an unlucky captain of an Indiaman, were due on the 15th to a merchant in the city. I could not possibly raise that sum, and was apprehensive of being hardly used. He, however, indulged me with an allowance to make partial payments, £150 in two months, £150 in eight months, and the remainder, with the interests, in eighteen months. How I am to manage I am at a loss, and I know you cannot help me. So this, upon my honour, is no hint. I am really tempted to accept of the £1000 for my life of Johnson. Yet it would go to my heart to sell it at a price which I think much too low. Let me struggle and hope. I cannot be out on Shrove Tuesday as I flattered myself. P. 376 of Vol. II. is ordered for the press, and I expect another proof to-night. But I have yet near 200 pages of copy, besides letters, and _the death_, which is not yet written.”

Writing to Mr. Malone on the 29th January, Boswell makes these deplorable revelations:—

“I have for some weeks had the most woeful return of melancholy, insomuch that I have not only had no relish of anything, but a continual uneasiness and all the prospect before me for the rest of life has seemed gloomy and hopeless. The state of my affairs is exceedingly embarrassed. I mentioned to you that the £500 which I borrowed several years ago and lent to a first cousin, an unfortunate India captain, must now be paid; £150 on the 18th of March, £150 on the 18th October, and £257 15s. 6d. on the 18th July, 1792. This debt presses upon my mind, and it is uncertain if I shall ever get a shilling of it again. The clear money on which I can reckon out of my estate is scarcely £900 a year. What can I do? My grave brother urges me to quit London and live at my seat in the country, where he thinks that I might be able to save so as gradually to relieve myself. But, alas! I should be _absolutely_ miserable. In the meantime such are my projects and sanguine expectations, that you know I purchased an estate which was given long ago to a younger son of our family, and came to be sold last autumn, and paid for it £2500, £1500 of which I borrow upon itself by a mortgage. But the remaining £1000 I cannot conceive a possibility of raising, but by the mode of annuity which is I believe a very heavy disadvantage. I own it was imprudent in me to make a clear purchase at a time when I was sadly straitened, but if I had missed the opportunity it never again would have occurred, and I should have been vexed to see an ancient appanage, a piece of, as it were, the flesh and blood of the family in the hands of a stranger. And now that I have made the purchase I should feel myself quite despicable should I give it up. In this situation, then, my dear sir, would it not be wise in me to accept 1000 guineas for my Life of Johnson, supposing the person who made the offer should now stand to it, which I fear may not be the case; for two volumes may be considered as a disadvantageous circumstance. Could I indeed raise £1000 upon the credit of the work, I should incline to _game_, as Sir Joshua says, because it may produce double the money, though Steevens _kindly_ tells me that I have over printed, and that the curiosity about Johnson is _now_ only in our own circle. Pray decide for me; and if, as I suppose, you are for my taking the offer inform me with whom I am to treat. In my present state of spirits I am all timidity. Your absence has been a severe shake to me. I am at present quite at a loss what to do.... I have now desired to have but one compositor. Indeed, I go sluggishly and comfortlessly about my work. As I pass your door I cast many a longing look.... We had a numerous club on Tuesday; I in the chair, quoting Homer and Fielding, &c. to the astonishment of Jo. Warton, who with Langton and Seward eat a plain bit with me in my new house last Saturday.”

On the 10th February, Boswell informed Mr. Malone that he had invested £16 8s. in a lottery ticket, and that instead of obtaining £5000 had drawn a blank. He proceeds:—

“Oh, could I but get a few thousands, what a difference would it make upon my state of mind, which is harassed by thinking of my debts! I am anxious to have your determination as to my _magnum opus_. I am very unwilling to part with the property of it, and certainly would not, if I could but get credit for £1000 for three or four years. Could you not assist me in that way, on the security of the book, and of an assignment to one half of my rents, £700, which, upon my honour, are always due, and would be forthcoming in the case of my decease. I _will_ not sell till I have your answer as to this.”

Mr. Malone did not reply. On the 25th Boswell made a new proposal. After referring to a severe attack of melancholy which had lately oppressed him, he proceeds:—