1763

SATURDAY 1 JANUARY

Break[fast] at 9 on 3 Muffins then go to Child’s & then to Louisa. Be warm press home and consummate[;] have some Porter e’er you go — or perhaps bread & butter will do — Then Sher[idan]’s consult about Prologue — tell you have wrote none lately¹ ask advice. say you’re proud. bid conceal it till it is seen in print.² At 8 home — order fire at that hour & write Journ. busily & read Hume & now be in earnest to study

Dialogue at Child’s

1 Cit Pray Sir have you read Mr. Warton’s Essay on the life & writings of Pope?³ He will not allow him to be a Poet.⁴ He says he had good sense & good versification but wants the warm imagination & brilliancy of Expression that constitute the true Poetical Genius.⁵ He tries him by a rule prescribed by Longinus,⁶ which is to take the words out of their metrical order & then see if they have the sparks of poetry. Dont you remember this?

2 Cit I dont agree with him.

1 Cit. Nor I neither. He is fond of Thomson. He says he has great force.

2 Cit. He has great faults.

1 Cit. Ay, but great force too.⁷

2 Cit. I have eat beefstakes with him.

3 Cit. So have I. —

I received for a suit of old cloaths⁸ 11^sh which came to me in good time. I went to Louisa at one. Madam I have been thinking seriously. — Well sir I hope you are of my way of thinking. — I hope Madam, you are of mine. I have considered this matter most seriously. The week is now elapsed, — and I hope you will not be so cruel as to keep me in misery. (I then began to take some liberties)[.] Nay Sir — now — but do consider — Ah Madam! —- Nay but you are an encroaching creature[!] (Upon this I advanced to the greatest freedom by a sweet elevation of the charming petticoat) — Good heaven Sir! Madam I cannot help it. I adore you. Do you like me. (She answered me with a warm kiss[,] & pressing me to her bosom sighed O! Mr. Boswell). But my dear Madam! permit me I beseech you. — Lord, Sir the People may come in. — How then can I be happy? what time; Do tell me. Why Sir on Sunday afternoon, My Landlady of whom I am most affraid, goes to church; So you may come here a little after 3. Madam I thank you a thousand times. Now Sir I have but one favour to ask of you. Whenever you cease to regard me, pray don’t use me ill, nor treat me coldly. But inform me by a letter or any other way, that it is over. — Pray Madam Don’t talk of such a thing. Indeed we cannot answer for our affections. But you may depend on my behaving with civility & politeness.

I drank tea at Lady Betty’s. The Dempsters were there. Jocularity & loud mirth went round. After the elegant scene of gallantry which I had just been solacing my romantic Imagination with and after the high-relished ideas with which my fancy had been heated, I could consider the common stile of company & conversation but as low & insipid: But the fife tongue and the Nidderys Wynd address⁹ were quite hideous. After the tender respect with which I had been treated by the adorable Louisa I could not brook the not-ill-meant tho’ coarse gibes of this hamely company. I was hurt, but seemed easy. I left them at nine o clock & went home.

SUNDAY 2 JANUARY

Go at 8 to King’s Chapel¹ — Home at 9 & dress & order dinner at 2 — Hume at 10² & be easy & grave then after he goes go to church — or if not Write Journal till dinner. At 3 go up to Louisa. Have Porter at dinner. Be warm & fine & consumm[ate] bliss — If very happy dont see Kellies for some days — learn retenue above all things[.] Gould’s monday[.] Home dinner each day till frid[ay] or cheese some days[.] write about Kirk —

I had George Home at breakfast with me. He is a good honest fellow & applies well to his Business as a Merchant. He had seen me all giddiness at his father’s;³ and was astonished to find me settled on so prudent a plan. As I have made it a rule to dine every Sunday at home, and have got my Landlady to give us regularly, on that day, a piece of good roast Beef, with a warm Apple-pie; I was a little difficulted today as our time of dining is three o clock, just my hour of Assignation. However I got dinner to be at two, & at three, I hastened to my charmer. Here a little speculation on the human mind, may well come in. For here was I a young man full of vigour & vivacity, the favourite lover of a handsom Actress and going to enjoy the full posession of my warmest wishes: And yet Melancholy threw a cloud over my mind. I could relish nothing. I felt dispirited & languid. I approached Louisa with a kind of an uneasy tremor. I sat down. I toyed with her. Yet I was not inspired by Venus. I felt rather a delicate sensation of love, than a violent amorous inclination for her. I was very miserable. I thought myself feeble as a Gallant, altho’ I had experienced the reverse many a time. Louisa knew not my powers. She might imagine me impotent. I sweated allmost, with anxiety, which made me worse. She behaved extremely well; did not seem to remember the occasion of our meeting at all. I told her I was very dull. Said she, People cannot allways command their spirits. The time of church was allmost elapsed, when I began to feel that I was still a Man. I fan’d the flame by pressing her alabaster Breasts, & kissing her delicious lips. I then barr’d the door of her dining-room, led her all fluttering into her Bedchamber, and was just making a triumphal entry, when we heard her Landlady coming up. O Fortune why did it happen thus? would have been the exclamation of a roman Bard. We were stop’d most suddenly & cruely from the fruition of each other. She ran out & stopt the Landlady from coming up. Then returned to me in the dining room. We fell into each other’s arms sighing & panting, O dear how hard this is. O Madam see what you can contrive for me. Lord Sir I am so frightened. Her Brother then came in. I recollected that I had been at no place of worship, today. I beg’d pardon for a little & went to Covent-Garden Church⁴ where there is Evening Service between 5 & 6. I heard a few prayers, & then returned & drank tea. She entertained us with her adventures when travelling thro’ the Country; Some of them were excellent. I told her she might make a novel. She said if I would put them together, that she would give me materials. I went home at 7[.] I was unhappy at being prevented from the completion of my wishes, & yet I thought that I had saved my credit for prowess, that I might thro’ anxiety have not acted a vigorous part; & that we might contrive a meeting where I could love with ease & freedom.

MONDAY 3 JANUARY

Dress & break[fast] at 9 then Journ & Hume till after 11 Then Gould’s & fix dinner — & ask schemes. Then Louisa[.] Talk how unfortunate it was pulling a man back from heaven, that you was anxious with sincere passion & for fear & beg she may excuse you & may kindly invent how to make you blest, either there at night or by coming to you, or going to tavern or to Haywards or to Bagnio.¹ Be sober see not Kellies soon. Study in earnest. Mind Kirk

I beg’d Louisa to invent some method by which we might meet in Security. I insisted that she should go & pass the night with me somewhere. She beg’d time to think of it. Webster & I dined at Gould’s.² The Colonel was not at home, being upon guard. A Mrs. Douglas was there[,] Lady to Captain Douglas of the Guards[,]³ a mighty pretty agreable creature. She asked me how long I had been from Scotland. If my name was Mr. James Boswell and if I remembered her at Moffat. She said if I did not recollect her name then, she would not tell me. Madam said I, did it not begin with M. She said it did. She proved to be a Miss Mackay with whom I was deeply in love, at thirteen[,] a passion which Mr. Joseph Fergusson then my tutor⁴ ridiculed most roughly, by setting his teeth together, and giving hard thumps on the knees of his bretches. However I certainly at that time felt all the pleasing anguish of a genuine flame. I told Mrs. Gould. This[,] Madam[,] is a Lady whom I was most desperately in love with. Sir, said Mrs. Douglas, I never knew it. No Madam, I never declared my hopeless passion. I diverted them by expatiating on this affair, & we were very chearfull. She hoped to see me, she said, at her house. Webster appeared in a poor light today. He seemed very young. He was lively; but it was the liveliness of a Boy.

TUESDAY 4 JANUARY¹

Louisa told me that she would go with me to pass the night, when she was sure that she would not be wanted at the Playhouse, next day; and she mentioned Saturday as most convenient, being followed by Sunday, on which nothing is done. But, Sir said she[,] may not this be attended with expence? I hope you’ll excuse me. There was something so kind & so delicate in this hint, that it charmed me. No Madam it cannot be a great expence, and I can save on other articles to have money for this — I recollected that when I was in London two years ago, I had left a guinea with Mr. Meighan[,]² a Roman-Catholic Bookseller in Drury-lane[,] of which I had some change to receive. I went to him & got 5^s & 6^d which gave me no small consolation. Elated with this new acquisition of pecuniary property, I instantly resolved to eat drink & be merry. I therefore hied me to a Beer-house[,] called for some bread & cheese & a pint of Porter. Close by the fire sat an old man whose countenance was furrowed with distress. He said his name was Michael Cholmondeley, that he was a day-labourer, but out of work, that he had laid out a penny for some beer & had picked up a bit of bread in the Street which he was eating with it. I immediatly ordered such a portion of victuals & drink for him, as I took for myself. He then told me he was a sad dog in his youth[,] run off from his freinds³ to London, wrought here sometime & at last, wanting money he had sold himself for a slave to the Plantations,⁴ for seven years. Upon my word, said I, You are a most extraordinary Genius. How much did you get? C— Twenty Pounds. B— [A]nd pray what sort of a life had you there? C— O Sir a very good life. We had plenty of meat & drink, & wrought but five hours a day. He said he then came back & afterwards made voyages in lighters⁵ both to france & spain. Poor creature! He had got falls & was sorely bruised, & often even in severe weather has been obliged to lie in the streets. I pay’d for his meal & gave him a penny. Why such a wretched being subsists is to me a strange thing. But I am a weak creature. I submit to God’s will[.] I hope to know the reason of it some time. I then bethought me of a place to which Louisa & I might safely go. I went to my good freind Hayward’s at the black Lyon, told him that I had married, & that I and my wife who was to be in town on Saturday, would sleep in his house, till I got a lodging for her. The King of Prussia says in one of his Poems that Gallantry comprises every vice.⁶ That of lying it certainly does[,] without which intrigue can never be carried on. But as the Proverb says in love & war all is fair. I who am a lover & hope to be a Soldier think so. In this instance, we could not be admitted to any decent house except as man & wife. Indeed we are so if union of hearts be the principal requisite. We are so, at least for a time. How cleverly this can be done here. In Scotland it is impossible. We should be married with a vengeance.⁷ I went home & dined. I thought my slender diet weakened me. I resolved to live hearty, and be stout. This afternoon, I became very low-spirited. I sat in closs. I hated all things. I allmost hated London. O miserable Absurdity. I could see nothing in a good light[.] I just submitted and hoped to get the better of this.

WEDNESDAY 5 JANUARY

I was agreably surprised at breakfast, with the arrival of my brother John in good health and Spirits altho’ he had been for three months lately in a most terrible way.¹ I walked with him in the Park. He talked sensibly & well. I then went to Lady Betty’s. I was rather in the low spirited humour still. She was by herself. I talked of my schemes. I owned my unsettled views which indeed are only so at times, as I have preserved allmost an uninterrupted constancy to the guards. She asked me to dine. I told her, I now had money to support me till friday, was not obliged by a dinner, & therefore would come. I went & had some elegant conversation with Louisa, told her all was fixed for Saturday. She sweetly acquiesced. I like her better & better every day.

I was very hearty at dinner; but was too ridiculous. This is what I ought most to guard against. People in company applaud a man for it, very much; But behind his back, hold him very cheap. I have a strange knack at inventing odd phrases. We were talking of Mr. Garrick’s power of making Plays run. Ay said I, He never takes a Calf by the tail, but he makes it run. This we made a common byword of. I had this morning sent a letter to Lord Eglintoune as follows. —

‘My Lord.

Your Lordship’s card² which came safe, was received by me with different feelings. At first I talk’d very cavalierly[:] “Upon my word, the Man has brought himself well off.” But on a second perusal, & a discovery of the poignant ridicule, I was obliged to acknowledge that you had used me as Mr. Moody did the Devil; left me no the likeness o’ a Cat.³ However, I contrive to get an indirect compliment, by being the cause (as Falstaff says) of something so clever.⁴ You know we have often disputed whether or not I am a Poet. I have sent you an Ode.⁵ Lord Elibank thought it good. I think so too’[.]

— As we were at dinner, I got his Answer as follows.

‘Dear Jamie

I received your note; and am very glad you are got right again. I like your Ode much. There was no need of that to convince me you had genius. I wish I was as sure of your Judgment of men & things. I know you think yourself as well acquainted with both, as Mr. Moody’s Elders think him with God and the Devil. I agree you are upon a par: but I differ from the chosen ones.⁶

      Yours

                E

Pray sup with me tonight. I have a choice spirit or two. Bring the Captain with you. We’ll rub him up, and you shall have leave to laugh at him for not knowing the world. Lady Macfarlan’s Brother I mean.’

This was realy so good that they all agreed I should go, which the Captain also complied with; so we sent our compliments & we would wait on him. We then resumed our free jollity. I said I was happy. Indeed after my gloom yesterday, it was a great odds. But said Lady Betty, his weakness is that he would prefer Mrs. Gould’s to this. Indeed said I. I like your company much. But then I want to be among english People & to acquire the language. They laughed at that. I declaimed on the felicity of London. But they were cold & could not understand me. They reasoned plainly like People in the common road of life; and I like a man of fancy & whim. Indeed it will not bear reasoning. But I can hear the rude attacks of People on my notions, & pursue them with complacency & satisfaction. Indeed as to the happiness of life, it is neither, in this thing nor that thing. It is in every thing. Reason is not the Sole guide. Inclination must chiefly direct us; & in this, one Man’s inclination is just as good as another’s. For my own part, I shall allways endeavour to be as happy as I can. I represented Michael Cholmondeley’s case & got 3 Shillings for him. I drank tea with My Landlord. At 9 Erskine & I went to Lord Eglintoune’s. His choice spirits were Lord Advocate[,]⁷ Sir James Macdonald & Captain Johnston of the Navy[,] son to Sir James.⁸ Erskine & I were most amazingly bashfull and stupid. The conversation was all about the Banks of Scotland,⁹ a method to burn ships at a distance, as by burning glasses¹⁰ and other topics out of our way entirely. In short, we appeared to horrid dissadvantage. Let never People form a character of a Man from being a night in his company; Especialy a Man of Wit. George Selwyn[,]¹¹ one of the brightest Geniuses in England of whom more good sayings are recorded than any body, is often the dullest fellow that can be seen. He was a drole dog when at Oxford, & kept up a most earnest & grave corespondence with a reverend Bishop on a point of controversial divinity.¹² Whether after receiving the Communion before Confirmation¹³ he was in a reprobate state or in a state of grace. He kept up the disguise of mystical Religion long, & tormented the worthy Prelate with his many greivous Doubts. The letters he has by him. He was at last expelled the University for a piece of gross Profanity, giving the sacrament to a Dog. He did it literaly to a degree of craziness. He cut his arm, & made the Dog drink his blood saying ‘this is my blood &c.’¹⁴ Lord Eglintoune and Sir James disputed about Vanity. Sir James said it allways made a man dissagreable. My Lord said Vanity did not, because a vain man in order to be flattered allways pays you great court. But a Proud man despises you. The vain man picques himself on some qualities which you must know & admire. The Proud man picques himself on being quite above you; So the lower he can thrust you, the higher he is himself; and of all things a purse-proud¹⁵ man is the most terrible. Sir James mentioned a dissagreable Pride of Understanding, which I thought very applicable to himself. My Lord mentioned Poetry. Sir James said it was just Personification, animating every object, & every feeling[,] and that measure was not necessary. Erskine agreed with him. I maintained that Personification was only one requisite in Poetry, & that measure was absolutely necessary, without which it ceased to be Poetry & must be denominated some other work of the Imagination. That indeed it might be called Poetical, as it partook of the Nature of Poetry. This was all the show that I made tonight, in the way of speech. But My Lord produced me in writing saying he had got a new Poem which was my ode to ambition. I asked him when he got it. He said it was lying in the pocket of a coat that he wore last year.¹⁶ Sir James read it aloud. He praised it upon the whole. He said the Author wanted correctness[,] which is the least fault in a Poet. He said these lines

‘When fancy from it’s bud scarce peepd,

And Life’s sweet mattins rung’

were poor. But I think them two beautifull Allusions. So speaks the Author. There was a simile which Captain Johnston said was what the french call une Similé avec une longue queue,¹⁷ A simile with a long tail. Sir James said the Author of this does not want either Poetical Imagination or Ambition. Such a scene would have disconcerted some People. But I sat by with the most unconcerned ease. My Lord took me by the hand. ‘I hope we are very good freinds.’ My Lord I hope we never were otherwise. We stayed till near three. I was realy uneasy going home. Robberies in the street are now very frequent. The night air too is very bad for the health, and allways hurts me. I resolved to be determined against Suppers, and allways to be at home early, in spite of every temptation.

THURSDAY 6 JANUARY

My Brother breakfasted with me. This was Twelfth-day;¹ on which a great deal of Jollity goes on in England; at the eating of the twelfth cake² all Sugar’d over. I called at Gould’s. Mrs. Gould chid me for not being oftener there, & said jestingly that if she did not see me more, she would write to my Father, that I was idle. I then walked into the City. I took a whim that between St. Paul’s & the Exchange³ & back again, taking the different sides of the street, I would eat a penny twelfth cake at every shop where I could get it. This I performed most faithfully. I then dined comfortably at Dolly’s Beefsteak house. I regretted much my not being acquainted in some good opulent City family where I might participate the hearty sociality over the ancient ceremony of the twelfth Cake. I hope to have this snug advantage by this time next year. I drank tea at Dempster’s. Erskine & Lady Anne were there. We laughed a good deal.

FRIDAY 7 JANUARY

Captain Maxwell and my Brother breakfasted with me. I then waited on Louisa. She informed me that Saturday could not be the hoped-for time to bestow perfect felicity upon me. Not said she that I have changed my mind. But it cannot be. In short I understood that Nature’s periodical effects on the human or more properly female constitution forbad it. I was a little uneasy at this, tho’ it could not be helped. It kept me longer anxious till my Ability was known. I have, together with my vivacity and good-humour a great Anxiety of temper which often renders me uneasy. My Grandfather¹ had it in a very strong degree. I dined at Doctor Pringle’s, where was a Scotch Company, none of whom were of much note. We had however a kind of cordiality of conversation that did very well. I drank tea at Douglass’s, and then tho’ very indolent went home & drest, & went to the Private Party at Lady Northumberland’s. I was not there last friday, and as My Lady knows I have nothing very important to take me up, it would look ill not to be often there, Since she has been so kind as to ask me there. Indeed as I do not play, I am at a disadvantage, as People get much easier acquainted when set round a card-table & mixing a little chat while the Cards are dealt. But I am under a promise to Sheridan not to play for five years. He releived me from game distress, when he was at Edinburgh, by lending me five guineas. Happy is it for me, that I am thus tied up; for with my warmth and impetuosity of temper, I might go the greatest lengths, and soon involve myself in ruin and Misery. There is no setting bounds to gaming when one engages keenly in it; and it is more genteel to say you never play, than to refuse playing for whatever Sums the Company chuse. The Acquaintances made in this way are very slight. One made by A man who does not play, is worth a hundred of them. Because in the one case, it is only for the respect due to his money that he is known. In the other it is for the respect due to himself. This night I was badly off; I being the only Person in the room who was not engaged at Play: So that I was a little aukward & uneasy.

SATURDAY 8 JANUARY

I forgot to mention that upon Thursday I went to Michael Cholmondeley & gave him four shillings, three from the Kelly family and one of my own. The Creature did not seem so thankfull as I could wish. An old Woman who stood by (for I gave him it in a little court) grumbled that I might have bestowed my charity better, and presently a young one, said that People who had both been worthless & would be idle, should not be encouraged. Michael’s choler rose, he raged in Blackguard exclamation. The young Jade said he had fifty wives or thereabouts, and such as encouraged him would chuse to have the like. By this time a number of miscreants was gathered round us. I was sorely beset, and stood like the unhappy Stag at Bay, considering how it should come about that I should be rendered uneasy when in the exercise of that most christian grace Charity. A Scotch Seceder or an English Methodist would make out many mystical conjectures on this subject.¹ They would affirm that it was a temptation of Satan in order to try my stedfastness and if possible drive me from the practice of Goodness. Or perhaps that Providence had permitted the infernal ennemy of Souls to assault me, on purpose to teach me that I should be more judicious and less whimsical in the exercise of my Benevolence. I endeavoured to expostulate with the two incensed females in terms mild and gentle. You see said I this poor old Man. We shall not dispute whether his conduct has been good; But you see him ragged[,] hungry & cold, & surely I did right in trying to reli[e]ve a fellow Creature in such circumstances. I then stole away slowly from them. Their malevolence & hardness of heart I detested, yet I imagine the creature Cholmondeley must have been worthless. I asked a decent tradesman before whose shop we stood what character he had. Sir said he with a kind of waggery, he is a very honest man from head to foot. This day I was rather late at Child’s[.] There was nobody allmost there, & no Dialogue. So this day must want that garnish, as I am resolved to adhere strictly to fair truth in this my Journal. Indeed it vexes me a little to be put out of my regular Plan, for which I have a most rooted Affection. I do think my love of form for its own sake is an excellent qualification for a Gentleman of the Army, where there is such a deal of form and variety of Attitude. I dined at Gould’s. Mrs. Douglas² was there. She & I Chatted away with much vivacity. I feel myself now quite easy at Colonel Gould’s[.] [H]e is a most amiable Man. I like him much for his great degree of indolence. He loves to lie abed dearly, and gently grumbles at the thoughts of undergoing the fatigue of dressing. This is a pretty sort of account of my good freind. But I beleive I have allready mentioned his being a man of good sense[,] good temper & regular conduct. I wish I could do him any good. He & I are growing better together every day. I asked him if he was severe upon the men. No, said he, I have too great an aversion at trouble myself, to give them any. Mrs. Gould is a most agreable Woman[,] quite of the first fashion, yet kind and affectionate. I am sure I have good reason to say so: She is excessively good to me, wants me to be much at her house, is anxious that I should get my favourite Commission yet sooths me to Patience & keeps up my spirits. She is also to introduce me to some good familys where I can pop in now & then easily. This to so quiet a fellow as me, who have no love for riot, no Ambition to be a Buck,³ is of very great consequence. Young Buckley the Son takes me by the hand as his freind & there we talk away most intimately and most keenly. Miss Fannie runs smiling to me[,] sets her chair close by mine, directs her lively prattle with a most engaging vehemence to me, asks me many questions & has a great respect for my opinion. And then we will read together a little tale, or a Fable of Gay’s,⁴ and sing some smart lively song. She is a very fine child, and will probably be one of the first Beauties & clever women in England. She has a Grandmother⁵ who may give her a very handsom fortune, and in that case she will be a most elegant match for a man of Spirit. I call her sometimes Mrs. Boswell. She is very angry to be sure; crests up her little head & tells me I am very impertinent. Then by & by takes me by the hand and throws out a sparkling sally of life. Were many People to read this leaf of my Journal, they would hold me in great contempt, as a very trifling fellow. But surely what Mr. Churchill calls the grave triflers⁶ are neither so wise nor so happy as he who can give his time and attention now and then to the rising sprouts of Humanity and derive simplicity of feeling and gayety of heart from Children. Mrs. Gould cautioned me against Mrs. Cholmondeley. I insinuated that if she was a woman of intrigue[,] why not have that amusement with her. She did not answer that, but said that she had the character of a Jilt, that she had given encouragement to a certain Lord[,] got many presents from him, at last consented to an Assignation, & when he attempted to use freedoms her husband came in. My Lord swore it must have been concerted between them[,] damn’d her for a jilting Bitch & flung out of the room.⁷ I told her she need not be affraid of me. Mrs. Gould & Mrs. Douglas & I Went in the Colonel’s chariot to the Hay-Market[;] as we drove along, and spoke good english, I was full of rich imagination of London, ideas suggested by the Spectator and such as I could not explain to most People; but which I strongly feel and am ravished with. My blood glows and my mind is agitated with felicity. My freind Temple feels this greatly[,] so does Johnston in some measure[,] also so does Mcquhae. I am a good deal dissapointed at the want of Temple here this Winter. He & I were Great freinds in youth. We have yet the same dispositions and the same turn to fancy and whim. I have not yet learned where he is. I hope to have his company in London next winter. When we shall be very happy.

In this pleasing humour I was set down at the foot of the Hay-market & went straight home and sat in well pleased all the Evening.

SUNDAY 9 JANUARY

I heard an excellent sermon at St. Martin’s church,¹ by Mr. Sumner Master of Harrow School.² His text was ‘my yoke is easy.’³ He showed that altho’ religion might in some respects be called a yoke, as it laid some restraint upon the inclinations and passions of men, yet to a Mind properly trained it was easy, nay delightfull. The happiness of genuine Piety he displayed in elegant language enforced by just and animated action. After church, I went in sober yet gay humour to Louisa, and got her to fix Wednesday without fail as the happy night. I then called for Mr. Crawfurd of Auchnames in Ayrshire, and Errol in Fife⁴ who received me with uncommon kindness, told me that he heard I was wanting to get into the Guards, and if he could do me any service, I might command him. That he knew Lord Rothes well who commands the third Regiment, & that he would introduce me to him. These professions would have look’d like deceit from most People; But Crawfurd is a very honest and a very generous man. He saved My Lord Rothes’s estate,⁵ by advancing a large sum of money: Consequently he has a good deal to say with him. I dined at home, and drank tea with my Brother. We were very merry talking over the days when we were Boys, the characters of Mr. Dun, Mr. Fergusson, Mr. Mcquhae and Mr. Gordon⁶ and the servants who were then in the family. In short an infinite number of little circumstances which to ourselves were vastly entertaining.

MONDAY 10 JANUARY

I waited on Lady Northumberland and exprest my joy at hearing that the Marquis of Granby was in a fair way of recovery,¹ and would soon be over. I hope Madam said I you will not forget me. No Sir, said she, you may be sure I will not. As I hope to have the honour of a forenoon’s conversation with her Ladyship, every week[,] I shall enrich my Journal with it in the form of the original Dialogue.

Lady North. There was a Gentleman presented yesterday, On his getting a Commission in the Guards.² I thought of you Mr. Boswell.

Bos. Ay the Guards, Madam; that is the thing. Realy I have been thinking on the subject since I saw you, and must tell your Ladyship that the Guards is the particular thing that I have allways been fond of, just like the woman that a Man is in love with; At the same time I mentioned the Blues, as to be sure I should rather chuse to serve there, than not at all. But I beg leave to speak plain & let your Ladyship know exactly what my views are that in case you did me the honour to put me into the Blues, you might not be surprised, or think me an odd changeable fellow if after half a year, I should beg to have it changed for a Commission in the Guards.

Lady North. Why Sir I wish we may get you into the Guards. Bos. Indeed Madam I should be sorry that you had to say this man does not know what he would be at[.] I got him into the Blues which he was very desirous of, & now he is discontent & wants to change. The thing is this, that I am anxious to live in London, and besides the exercise of the Horse would be dissagreable to me; whereas in the Guards, my duty would be quite a pleasure to me.

Lady North. Indeed Sir that is of a good deal of consequence. I shall therefore present you to the Marquiss as a freind of mine who is very desirous to serve in the Guards, and next to that in his own Corps. He is a good-natured man and is therefore ready to give his promise.

Bos. I hope Madam we will keep him in mind of it. I wish I was introduced to him.

Lady North. Why to be sure, Sir, I will very naturally say My Lord you will give me leave to present Mr. Boswell to you; and then you can keep him in mind of it.

Bos. I am extremely obliged to your Ladyship. Indeed, I set a higher value on the countenance you show me than any body could do. For Madam I have the old notions about familys.³ I think of

‘The Peircy out of Northumberland

And a vow to God made he.’⁴

Indeed Madam these notions are much out now.

Lady North (well pleased) Realy, Sir they are too much out, as People show by the strange connections that they make.

Bos. I wish I had this commission of mine.

Lady North. I wish you had[.] Could not you have the thing mentioned to your Countryman Lord Rothes?

Bos. I was yesterday Madam with a Scotch Member, a Brother of General Crawfurd’s⁵ who is very intimate with Lord Rothes and promised to introduce me. But you know, Madam there is a delicacy in talking to a Colonel when a man is not to purchase, as he gets the proffits of the Commissions that are sold.⁶

Lady North. Indeed Sir it would be the best thing for you, to purchase if you could.

Bos. But then Madam My Father is rather averse to the scheme and would not advance the money, and by borrowing it, I should bring myself into difficulties. Indeed I am determined to purchase if I cannot get in without it. But I think it is worth while to wait a twelvemonth.

Lady North. It is so Sir.

Bos. I did not know whether or not to apply to Lord Rothes. It is not every body one would be obliged to. And I reckon myself very happy in depending on your Ladyship, whom I am very happy to be obliged to.

Lady North. O Sir!

Bos. I did not know but your Ladyship might be displeased at my speaking to any body else.

Lady North. Not at all Sir.

Bos. Pray Madam could you do any thing with Mr. Ellis the Secretary at War?

Lady North. Sir I tell you honestly what I can do and what I cannot. I have asked a favour from Mr. Ellis & have not yet got it. So that I have not much to say with him. I assure you, Sir, I have all the inclination in the World to serve you. I beg you may not judge of my inclination by my success.

Bos. Madam I will not if it be bad. But I will if it be good.

Lady North It was a bad night for you Mr. Boswell last friday as you was the only Person that did not play. I hope we shall have more company for you, next friday.

Bos Indeed it was a little dull for me.

Lady North Why dont you go to Court,⁷ Mr. Boswell? I’m sure that’s a cheap diversion; it costs you nothing: and you see all the best Company, and chat away. It is the best coffeehouse in town.

Bos But ought I not Madam to be introduced first.

Lady North. You should Sir. To be sure some People do go & stand there without being presented. But that would not be right for a man of your rank.

Bos I shall pay my respects to My Lord Northumberland and be obliged to him to take me there.

Lady North. He will present you to the Queen.⁸ But one of the Lords of the Bedchamber must do it to the King. Your freind Lord Eglintoune will do that.

Bos I shall certainly go there.

Lady North You should.

Bos Do you know Madam that Lord Eglintoune realy used me ill. He encouraged me much in my scheme of the guards; & when I applied to him, put me off in a most shamefull manner. Now Madam I would upon no account ask his interest.

Lady North To be sure, Sir. Pray is your house in the Country finished?⁹

Bos It is Madam.

Lady North. It is a very good house; and then the old Castle¹⁰ is very fine.

Bos. Indeed Madam There are more romantic Beauties there[,] than at any place I know[.] (rising) Your Ladyship’s most obedient. You are very good to me. I hope you wont give the Porter orders to deny you.

Lady North. Sir I gave him particular orders to let you in.

Bos Madam your most obedient. (shutting the door) [Y]ou won’t forget me.

Lady North No Sir.

This is the substance of our conversation today. I dare say I was half an hour with her. Her kindness made me very happy. I dined at home. One Faucit¹¹ a Singer was with us. We had some good songs. At night I went to Drury-lane Pit and saw the Second part of King Henry IV where Mr. Garrick in the pathetic scene between the old King & his son drew tears from my eyes.¹² The Entertainment was the Witches a Pantomime by Love. It is but a dull thing.

TUESDAY 11 JANUARY

I am amazed how I have neglected last friday to mention a circumstance so very material to me, as the Payment of my Allowance, which indeed elevated me to a most extraordinary pitch. Many a time did I lay the lovely shining pieces upon my table, count them over[,] put them in rank & file like the Guards and place them in many different sorts of figures. In short a Boy at school could not be more childishly fond of sugar plumbs than I was of golden Guineas. This day I had some agreable conversation with my dear Louisa. All was now agreed upon. I had been at Hayward’s on Saturday morning and told that we could not be there that night as my Wife was not come to town. But that we would be there next week & take our chance for a bed. And here a hint or two of Louisa’s History may well come in: She was born of very creditable parents in London. But being too strictly confined, she ran off & married heedlessly. She was obliged for Subsistence to go upon the Stage & travelled in different companys. Her husband proved a harsh dissagreable creature with whom she led a terrible life; at last, as it was discovered that they were illegaly married, they parted by consent, & she got into Covent-Garden Theatre. I dined with Coutts in the Strand[,] my Banker, a jolly plentifull dinner with a Scotch Company & free easy conversation. I drank tea with my Brother & then went home cool & serene[,] looking forward with joy to next day.

WEDNESDAY 12 JANUARY

Louisa and I agreed that at eight at night she would meet me in the Piazzas of Covent-Garden. I was quite elevated, & felt myself able & undaunted to engage in the wars of the Paphian Queen.¹ I dined at Sheridan’s, very heartily. He showed to my conviction that Garrick did not play the great scene in the second part of King Henry, with propriety. People said he, in this age, know when particular lines or even speeches are well spoke; but they do not study character; which is a matter of the utmost moment, as people of different characters feel and express their feelings very differently. For want of a knowledge of this Mr. Barry acted the distress of Othello the Moorish warrior whose stubborn soul was hard to bend and that of Castalio the gentle lover who was all tenderness, in the self-same way.² Now Mr. Garrick in that famous scene whines most piteously when he ought to upbraid. Shakespeare has discovered there a most intimate knowledge of human nature; he shows you the King worn out with sickness, & so weak that he faints. He had usurped the crown by the force of arms and was convinced that it must be held with spirit. He saw his son given up to low debauchery. He was anxious & vexed to think of the anarchy that would ensue at his death; upon discovering that the Prince had taken the crown from his pillow and concluding him desirous of his death, he is fired with rage. He starts up. He cries ‘Go chide him hither.’³ His anger animates him so much that he throws aside his distemper. Nature furnishes all her strength for one last effort. He is for a moment renewed. He is, for a moment, the spirited Henry the fourth. He upbraids him with bitter sarcasm & bold figures. And then what a beautifull variety is there when upon young Harry’s contrition, he falls on his neck and melts into parental tenderness. I yeilded this point to Sheridan candidly. But upon his attacking Garrick as a Tragedian in his usual way, I opposed him keenly, and declared he was prejudiced; because the World thought him a good tragic actor. So do I, Sir, said he; I think him the best I ever saw. Bos. Except yourself Mr. Sheridan. But come, we shall take this for granted. The world then think him near equal or as good as you in what you excell in. Sher. Sir I am not a bit prejudiced. I dont value acting. I shall suppose that I was the greatest actor that ever lived and universaly acknowledged so[,] I would not chuse that it should be remembered. I would have it erazed out of the anecdotes of my life. Acting is a poor thing in the present state of the stage. For my own part, I engaged in it merely as a step to something greater, a just notion of Eloquence[.] This was in a good measure true. But he certainly talked too extravagantly. An old irish maid, or rather an irish old maid (O most hideous character) dined with us. She was indeed a terrible Joy.⁴ She was a Woman of knowledge and Criticism and correct taste. But there came to tea a Miss Mowat⁵ who played once on the Stage here, for a winter, or two. A lovely Girl. Many an amorous glance did I exchange with her. I was this day quite flashy with Love. We often addrest our discourse to each other. I hope to see her again and yet what have I to do with any body but dear Louisa?

At the appointed hour of eight I went to the Piazzas where I sauntered up & down for a while in a sort of trembling suspence, I knew not why. At last, my charming companion appeared, and I immediately conducted her to a Hackney coach which I had ready waiting, pulled up the blinds, & away we drove to the destined scene of delight. We contrived to seem as if we had come off a journey, & carried in a Bundle our night-cloaths[,] Handkerchiefs & other little things. We also had with us some almond biscuits, or as they call them in London, Macharoons, which looked like provision on the road. On our arrival at Hayward’s we were shown into the parlour, in the same manner that any decent couple would be. I here thought proper to conceal my own name, (which the people of the house had never heard) and assumed the name of Mr. Digges. We were shown up to the very room where he slept. I said My Cousin as I called him was very well. That Ceres and Bachus⁶ might in moderation lend their assistance to Venus, I ordered a genteel supper & some Wine. Louisa told me she had two aunts who carried her over to France, when she was a girl, & that she could once speak french as fluently as english. We talked a little in it, & agreed that we would improve ourselves, by reading & speaking it every day. I asked her if we did not just look like Man & Wife. No said she we are too fond, for married people. No wonder that she may have a bad idea of that union considering how bad it was for her. She has contrived a pretty device for a seal. A heart is gently warmed by Cupid’s flame, and Hymen comes with his rude torch, and extinguishes it.⁷ She said she found herself quite in a flutter. Why realy said I, reason sometimes has no power. We have no occasion to be frightened, and yet we are both a little so. Indeed I preserve a tollerable presence of mind. I rose and kist her & conscious that I had no occasion to doubt my qualifications as a Gallant, I joked about it. How curious would it be, if I should be so frightened that we should rise as we lay down. She reproved my wanton language, by a look of modesty. The Bells of St. Brides church rung their merry chimes hard by.⁸ I said that the bells in Cupid’s court would be this night set aringing for joy at our union. We supt chearfully and agreably and drank a few glasses, and then the maid came & put the sheets well aired upon the bed. I now contemplated my fair prize. Louisa is just 24[,] of a tall rather than short figure, finely made in person, with a handsom face and an enchanting languish in her eyes. She dresses with taste. She has sense[,] good-humour & vivacity and looks quite a woman in genteel life. As I mused on this elevating Subject I could not help being somehow pleasingly confounded to think that so fine a Woman was at this moment in my possession, that without any motives of interest, she had come with me to an Inn[,] agreed to be my intimate companion, was to be my bedfellow all night, & to permit me the full enjoyment of her Person. When the Servant left the room I embraced her warmly & beg’d that she would not now delay my felicity. She declined to undress before me, and beg’d I would retire & send her one of the maids. I did so, gravely desiring the Girl to go up to Mrs. Digges. I then took a candle in my hand & walked out to the Yard. The night was very dark & very cold. I experienced for some minutes the rigours of the season, and called into my mind many terrible ideas of hardships, that I might make a transition from such dreary thoughts to the most gay and delicious feelings. I then caused make⁹ a bowl of negoes very rich of the fruit, which I caused be set in the room as a reviving cordial. I came softly into the room, and in a sweet delirium slipt into bed & was immediatly clasped in her snowy arms and prest to her milk-white bosom! Good heavens what a loose did we give to amorous dalliance. The freindly curtain of darkness concealed our blushes. In a moment I felt myself animated with the strongest powers of love, and, from my dearest Creature’s kindness had a most luscious feast. Proud of my godlike vigour I soon resumed the noble game. I was in full glow of health. Sobriety had preserved me from effeminacy & weakness & my bounding blood beat quick & high alarms. A more voluptuous night, I never enjoyed. Five times was I fairly lost in supreme rapture. Louisa was madly fond of me; she declared I was a Prodigy, & asked me if this was not extraordinary for human nature. I said twice as much might be, but this was not: Altho’ in my own mind I was somewhat proud of my performance. She said it was what there was no just reason to be proud of. But I told her I could not help it. She said it was what we had in common with the beasts. I said no. For we had it highly improved by the pleasures of sentiment. I asked her what she thought enough. She gently chid me for asking such questions, but said two times. I mentioned the Sunday’s Assignation, when I was in such bad spirits, told her in what agony of mind I was, and asked her if she would not have despised me for my imbecillity.¹⁰ She declared she would not. As it was what People had not in their own power. She often insisted that we should compose ourselves to sleep, before I would consent to it. At last I sunk to rest in her arms & she in mine. I found the negoes which had a fine flavour very refreshing to me. Louisa had an exquisite mixture of delicacy & wantoness that made me enjoy her with more relish. Indeed I could not help roving in fancy to the embraces of some other Ladies which my lively Imagination strongly pictured. I don’t know if that was altogether fair. However, Louisa had all the advantage. She said she was quite fatigued & could neither stir leg nor arm. She beg’d I would not despise her & hoped my love would not be altogether transient. I have painted this night as well as I could. The description is faint; but I surely may be stiled a Man of Pleasure.

THURSDAY 13 JANUARY

We awaked from sweet repose after the luscious fatigues of the night. I got up between nine & ten, and walked out, till Louisa should rise. I patroled up and down Fleet-street thinking on London, the seat of Parliament and the seat of pleasure, and seeming to myself as one of the Wits in King Charles the Second’s time. I then came in and we had an agreable breakfast, after which we left Haywards, who said he was sorry he had not more of our company, and calling a Hackney-coach drove to Soho Square where Louisa had some visits to pay; So we parted. Thus was this Conquest compleated to my highest satisfaction. I can with pleasure, trace the progress of this intrigue to it’s completion. I am now at ease on that head, having my fair one fixed as my own. As Captain Plume says, the best security for a woman’s mind is her Body.¹ I realy conducted this Affair with a manliness and Prudence that pleased me very much. The whole Expence was just 18 Shillings. I called at Louisa’s & seemed to be surprised that she was abroad. I then went & called at Drury-lane Playhouse, for Mr. Garrick. I had called for him at his house,² but had never found him. He met me with great civility & even kindness, told me that he had bowed to me, in the house of Lords,³ when I had not observed him, said he would be glad to contribute to my happiness, & asked me if I was come to stay. I told him that I hoped to get into the Guards. To be sure said he it is a most genteel thing, and I think, Sir you ought to be a Soldier. The Law requires a sad deal of plodding. But said he, has your Father got over the pangs of your forsaking his scheme. I told him he was pretty well reconciled. I told him I wanted much to pass some time with him. He said he allways breakfasted at 9 & would be glad to see me whenever I chose to come, and let Mrs. Garrick⁴ make tea for me. He then carried me to see the Paintings of Mr. Zophani⁵ in the Piazas where Mr. Garrick is shown in several different ways. Take care Zophani, said he, you have made one of these heads for me longer than the other, and I would not willingly have it shortened. In the theatre there was a fine large dog chained[.] This said he is Johnston’s (the Boxkeeper)⁶ Bear, tho’ I dont know which of ’em is the greatest Bear. I dined nowhere, but drank tea at Loves, & at night went to Covent-Garden Gallery, & saw the Jovial Crew.⁷ My frame still thrilled with pleasure, and my want of so much rest last night, gave me an agreable languor. The songs revived in my mind many gay ideas, and recalled in the most lively colours to my Imagination the time when I was first in London, when all was new to me, when I felt the warm glow of youthfull feeling, and was full of curiosity and wonder. I then had at times a degree of extasy of feeling that the experience which I have since had, has in some measure cooled and abated. But then my ignorance at that time is infinitely excelled by the knowledge and moderation & government of myself which I have now acquired. After the Play I came home, eat a bathcake⁸ & a sweet orange, & went comfortably to bed.

FRIDAY 14 JANUARY

I drank tea with Louisa. There was one of the least men I ever saw at tea with us, on whom Louisa threw out many diverting jokes. At night I went to Lady Northumberland’s. There was a very full meeting, and many People of my acquaintance, so that I was at my ease, and had plenty of conversation. I strutted up & down considering myself as a valiant Man who could gratify a Ladies loving desires, five times in a night, and I satisfied my Pride by considering that if this and all my other great qualities were known, all the Women allmost in the room, would be making love to me. This Evening, I was accosted by a Lady of Quality whom I was a little acquainted with, and to whom I shall give the name of Lady Mirabel.¹ Thus went our Conversation.

Lady M. You don’t play Mr. Boswell.

B. No Madam I never do, & yet I am very well amused here. I can have a great deal of entertainment just by looking arround me. A man[,] madam[,] who can be happy thus, must either be very stupid, or more clever than ordinary.

Lady M. Indeed Sir, he must be extremely clever.

B Well Madam, I think I have made out what I wanted very well. But pray don’t you think the meetings here of people of fashion very dull. There seems to be no communication between Men & women. They seldom speak to each other.

Lady M. True[,] but when they do speak they speak to the purpose.

B. Bravo! Indeed they do that. But they want sentiment.

Lady M. And therefore it is that their connections last only for a winter. It is very different abroad.

B. You must know Madam, I run up & down this town, just like a wild colt.

Lady M Why Sir then, dont you stray into my stable, amongst others.

B Madam I shall certainly have that pleasure.

From this conversation and Lady Mirabel’s looks, I entertained some notion that an Intrigue would not be dissagreable to her Ladyship. Lady Mirabel is a Widow of middle age, has a jointure sufficient to live genteely upon, altho’ not pretty she has a fine air and is very agreable. In short whether I succeed or not, this may be an amusing pursuit. Sir Harry Erskine bowed often & spoke much to me this night, in expectation as I supposed that I would pay court to him, & ask his interest for my Commission. Instead of that, I pushed him much, or rather represented strongly to him, that my freind and his Cousin Erskine should have a company.² I wish Sir said he, that it was in my power to get him a Company. He no doubt imagined that I would have said[:] If it is not in your power, Sir Harry, who can do such things? But I was resolved to beat him in a smart way, so replied, ‘Um, I dont know, Sir Harry. You may help.’ He bowed and smiled more than once and withdrew (as I thought) like my inferior. Lord Eglintoune realy payd court to me. He asked me how I had been this long time and hoped that I heard of his being at my door, several times. He insisted that I should sup with him. He said he had several very clever fellows, amongst whom was Erskine;³ But I told him that I never was abroad, at night; for that I was in love with a fine woman, and wanted to keep myself healthy[,] stout and strong. I asked him if Erskine had spoke more to him, yet: He said no. But he must be forced to it. For a man has no more a right not to furnish his share of conversation, than not to pay his Club. I went home in good time and in good spirits.

SATURDAY 15 JANUARY

I breakfasted with Dempster in exceeding lively spirits[.] I then hied me to the City blithe and gay. As I past Water-lane, I superstitiously took off my hat & bowed to the black Lyon.

Dialogue at Child’s.

Physic Do Sir stand a little to one side that we may see the fire[.]

1 Cit Sir. I think I make atonement for my error by leaving it.

Physic Have not you observed a certain Gentleman with a broad backside who frequents this Coffeehouse, have not you seen him clap his Backside to the fire, so as to cover it, from us and allmost to burn his own Cloaths, if not called to.

2 Cit. Why the devil is he Called to? Why not let him burn his cloaths?

Physic That would be uncharitable.

I then called at Louisa’s, and beg’d to be allowed what I most desired. She would not consent today, as every body was at home. But said that next day at one, her Landlady would be abroad, & I might come then. I beg’d to know if she had any intrigues, since she parted with her husband. She confest that she had one; but that it was now over, and the Gentleman was not in Britain. My being affraid of a rival, was a sure sign of sincere passion. I dined at Mrs. Douglass’s where I met Mr. and Mrs. Gould & young Webster. Hunger was my predominate inclination this day, and a most hearty dinner I did eat. In the afternoon, some strangers came to tea. I disliked them. I went home soon; but, I don’t know how, had got into a bad humour.

SUNDAY 16 JANUARY

I heard service & Sermon in the New Church in the Strand,¹ which insensibly releived me from my cloudy spirits. I had not been at Lady Betty’s since Thursday se’nnight² as I wanted to have nothing but english ideas, and to be as manly as I possibly could. However I thought they might take amiss my being absent for so long a time, without being able to assign them any rational reason for it. I therefore went there after church & found them at Breakfast. They were glad to see me & very kind. I hoped they were not angry at me, for running thro’ London whimsicaly, so long, without ever calling on them. They said, by no means. For they had now got a method to account for all my actions, which was just to say it is part of his Plan; and that they would allways be glad to see me. I said I valued them much more, after being sometime absent from them. I realy liked them this day, better than ever. I then went to Louisa, and was permitted the rites of love with great complacency: yet I felt my passion for Louisa much gone. I felt a degree of coldness for her & I observed an affectation about her, which disgusted me. I had a strong proof of my own inconstancy of disposition, and I considered that any woman who married me must be miserable. Here I argued wrong. For as a licentious love is merely the child of Passion, it has no sure ground to hope for a long continuance; as Passion may be extinguished with the most sudden & trifling breath of wind; but rational esteem founded on just motives, must in all probability, endure; especialy when the opinion of the world and many other considerations contribute to strengthen & preserve it. Louisa and I began this day to read french. Our book was a little light piece of french gallantry entitled Journal Amoreux.³ She pronounced best, and I translated best. Between us, we did very well.

MONDAY 17 JANUARY

Louisa & I continued our study of french, which was usefull, as it gave us some employment & prevented us from tiring on account of conversation becoming insipid from a sameness that must necessarily happen when only two People are much together. I this day again had full fruition of her charms. I still, tho’[,] found that the warm enthusiasm of love was over. Yet I continued to mention my fears of her having some other favourite. I first said that I would watch her carefully, & would come at different times & by surprise if possible, that I might find out the truth — But I recovered myself & said I was sure I had no reason, so would not anxiously enquire. Indeed, Sir, said she, it is better not. For it is a Maxim with me, where there is no Confidence, there is no breach of trust. I dined at Lady Betty’s. Erskine was not there. We were very happy & in a better stile than I ever knew us in. We were in a composed & sensible & at the same time a lively stile. We talked of happiness, as we then owned that we were much so. I said that of making money was certainly great, as it lasted for ever, and as you had allways something to show. I lamented that the happiness of the mind was so very transient, & that you had nothing left. For that a Man may have a great quantity of happiness today, and tomorrow it is all gone, and what a man had avails him nothing. True said Lady Betty; but you must consider tho’ you are thus a Bankrupt, yet you may quickly again be worth ten thousand pound. We then fell upon Political topics, and all agreed in our love of the Royal family of Stuart and regret at their being driven from Britain.¹ I maintained that their encroachments were not of so bad consequence as their being expelled the throne. In short the substance of our conversation was — That the family of Stuart altho’ unfortunate, did nothing worthy of being driven from the throne. That their little encroachments were but trifles in comparrison of what Oliver Cromwell did[,] who overturned the whole constitution, and threw all into anarchy, and that in a future period, King William who came over the defender of our liberties, became a most domineering Monarch, and stretched his prerogative farther than any Stuart ever did.² That by the Revolution³ we got a shabby family to reign over us, and that the German war, a consequence of having a German sovereign,⁴ was the most destructive thing this Nation ever saw. That by the many changes & popular confusions the minds of the People were confused and thrown loose from ties of loyalty, so that public spirit and national principle were in a great measure destroyed. This was a bold & rash way of talking; but it had justice, and it pleased me. I liked the Kelly family vastly this day. I considered that I was happy in the intimate acquaintance of Ladies of quality of a good family, genteel & ingenious. They were now talking of going for Scotland, in a forthnight. This made them appear more valuable. I told them I would dine with them every day while they stayd. They made me wellcome with that easy kindness which cannot be feigned. Indeed said Macfarlan you are wellcom on your own account. But suppose that was not the case, I owe your Father as many dinners. I drank tea there.

TUESDAY 18 JANUARY

Lord Eglintoune sent me the following card: ‘Lord Eglintoune presents his compliments to Mr. Boswell, (I beleive I should only have said Boswell, for as the Gascoon said to Monsieur Tallard, nobody ever said Mr. Horace)¹ and takes the liberty to acquaint his Poetship, that he has called twice and lives in Queen-street May-fair.’

I wrote for Answer.

‘To The Earl of Eglintoune one of the Lords of his Majesty’s Bed -chamber, Boswell the Poet[,] sole Lord of his own[,] sends such Compliments as Men of the World generaly send to each other. The honour that Lord Eglintoune has done him in calling twice, is most properly felt, and he begs leave to acknowledge himself much out of his duty, in not paying his respects in Queen-Street, before now; altho’ between the Ladies celestial² & terrestrial, he has for some time past, been kept in pretty good employment both of mind (which I mention first as the most exalted part of our nature) and body; which, let Metaphysicians talk as they may, has no small share in human felicity. Boswell will very soon wait of³ Lord Eglintoune.’

This way of coresponding that the Earl & I have got into, is something very clever, and entertaining. This day being the Queen’s birth-day, I was amused by seeing multitudes of rich-dressed People driving in their splendid Equipages to Court. Realy it must be confest that a Court is a fine thing. It is the cause of so much show and splendour that People are kept gay & spirited. I recollected all the storys of the old Scottish Magnificence when our Monarchs resided at Holyroodhouse, and I wished to see such days again.⁴ In short I had more pleasing ideas tramping along the pavement, than those who rattled by me in gilded chariots. I went & waited on Lady Margaret Macdonald. Amongst other subjects we talked of her Brother Lord Eglintoune. She said he was ruined by having never had a fixed plan in life. I mentioned to her, his usage of me: Sir said she dont you be at the trouble to take it amiss from him, for I can assure that he has used me as ill. He insisted that I should bring up my two youngest sons⁵ and made the strongest promises of regard, nay went so far as to say that if he did not do more for them than all their freinds in Scotland put together, he would refund the expence of their Education. They were accordingly brought up, & yet he never once minded them, nor did any thing for them. This indeed is the strongest proof that I ever heard of Lord Eglintoune’s want of firmness, just owing to his sad dissipation. I told Lady Margaret that I beleived I took his behaviour to me, in too serious a light, & by being pretty much angry & keeping at a distance, I lost a great deal of pleasure from his agreable company. Indeed Sir, said she, you are wrong. Have no dependence upon him, but go to his house often, just as you would to a Play. This was a most candid and a most sensible advice. For I lose a deal of satisfaction, and the thoughtless Earl does not much mind my stateliness; altho it must be owned that I have made him very attentive to me of late & made myself of more consequence, in his opinion. I then called for Lady Mirabel. She seemed to like me a good deal. I was lively & I looked like the Game.⁶ As it was my first visit, I was very quiet. However it was agreed that I should visit her often. This elated me, as it afforded a fine snug and agreable prospect of gallantry. Yet I could not think of being unfaithfull to Louisa. But then I thought Louisa was only in the mean time, till I got into genteel life, and that a Woman of fashion was the only proper object for such a Man as me. At last, delicate honour prevailed & I resolved for some time at least to keep alive my affection for Louisa. I this day began to feel an unnacountable alarm of unexpected evil. A little heat in the Members of my body sacred to Cupid very like a symptom of that distemper with which Venus when cross, takes it into her head to plague her Votaries. But then I had run no risque, I had been with no woman but Louisa; & sure she could not have such a thing. Away then with such idle fears[,] such groundless uneasy Apprehensions. When I came to Louisa’s, I felt myself stout & well & most couragiously did I plunge into the fount of Love & had vast pleasure as I enjoyed her as an Actress who had played many a fine Lady’s part. She was remarkably fond of me, today: And sighing said ‘what will become of me, if I lose you now?’

I dined at Lady Betty’s. I said I sometimes contracted my Plan. Says Erskine, you should contract nothing but debt. To which Macfarlan added[,] and marriage. We were very merry. They declared their hearty joy at this scheme of dining every day chancing to become part of my Plan. At five I left them for an hour & went to Sheridan’s. In order to explain my errand there, I must give a narration of several Sentences. Mrs. Sheridan some weeks ago asked me to write a Prologue to her new Comedy. She said there were very few good Poets in this Age, and she said that if they had been in good terms with Johnson, she would have asked him. Her applying to me, after this, no doubt flattered me a good deal. She said there were few who had sense and temper enough to allow a fair Criticism on their verses, as they were too much attached to their favourite Productions. But I told her she need be under no Apprehension of making me angry[,] for that I was perfectly easy in that respect. Indeed my ease proceeds not from the good sense it might be imputed to, but from a carelessness of fame and a happy indifference from a thorough conviction of the vanity of all things. As I had written no verses for some months, the task appeared very formidable. However I wrote one which she said had good lines, but was too general. I therefore wrote another, which she said was near the mark, & with a little polishing would do. The thing now pleased me exceedingly. I thought it fine to have my lines spoken by Mr. Garrick and resounding thro’ Drury-lane. I mentioned it to the Kellys and the Dempsters & walked about elated, but would not let them hear it. To get a definitive Answer about this Prologue, was now my errand to Sheridan’s. I must observe that from the first, Sheridan himself never seemed hearty in the thing. I bid Mrs. Sheridan not show it him, as he was a severe critic. After sitting a little, he said ‘why Sir you dont ask about your Prologue?’ Indeed said I, I am too indifferent.

Sh Well but prepare your utmost Philosophy.

B How so?

Sh It is weighed in the ballances and found light.

B What is [it] not good?

Sh Indeed I think it is very bad.

B Pray Mrs. Sheridan what is the meaning of this?

Mrs Sh. Mr. Sheridan Sir does not like it & he has insisted upon me to write one which he thinks will do.

Oho[,] thought I[,] is this it. I then desired to hear the faults of mine. Sheridan pointed them out with an insolent bitterness and a clumsy ridicule that hurt me much & when I answered them, bore down my words with a boisterous Vociferation. It is incredible with what seeming good-humour I behaved. I declared that I must either be a man of the finest temper, or the nicest art.⁷ He then read Mrs. Sheridan’s which was much duller as I thought.⁸ We disputed about Poems. Sheridan said that a Man should not be a Poet except he was very excellent; for that to be a mediocris Poeta⁹ was but a poor thing. I said I differed from him. For the greatest part of those who read Poetry, have a mediocre taste, consequently one may please a great many. Besides to write Poems is very agreable, and one has allways People enough to call them good; so that a man of a tollerable Genius rather gains than loses. I returned to Lady Betty’s at six realy a good deal mortified, and in that sort of humour that made me consider writing as a dangerous thing, & wish that I had never wrote, & think I would not write again. I realy have still a great degree of Imbecillity of mind; I am easily perswaded by what other People say & cannot have a firm enough Judgment. I told them my lamentable Story; They were realy angry & sympathised with my vexation. I repeated my Prologue which they thought very good, and I repeated Sheridan’s criticisms which they thought puerile & stupid & declared they allways thought him a dull fellow. This had a most pleasing effect and put me again into good humour, altho’ a little of my former uneasiness still remained. Now did I ponder most seriously with myself, how to behave to Sheridan. I was certainly used ungenteely. Yet to take notice of it was low, & made him triumph in having been able to vex me. So is human nature constituted, that I now had an aversion at Sheridan. I saw his bad taste, his insolence, his falshood, his malevolence in the strongest light. I was sorry that I had been so much with him, and I resolved to take an opportunity of breaking off acquaintance, & then lashing him for a presumptous¹⁰ dunce like as my freind Erskine & other People do in great Abundance. But then I thought I was entertained in his company, so had better keep in with him. I just resolved that I would be upon a sort of indifferent footing. Be diverted with him, & not care a straw, how he thought of me.

WEDNESDAY 19 JANUARY

This was a day eagerly expected by Dempster[,] Erskine and I as it was fixed as the period of our gratifying a whim proposed by me. Which was that on the first day of the new Tragedy called Elvira’s being acted, we three should walk from the one end of London to the other, dine at Dolly’s & be in the Theatre at night, & as the Play would probably be bad and as Mr. David Malloch the Author who has changed his name to David Mallet Esq. was an arrant Puppy, we determined to exert ourselves in damning it.¹ I this morning felt stronger Symptoms of the sad Distemper, yet I was unwilling to imagine such a thing. However the severe exercise of today joined with hearty eating and drinking I was sure would confirm or remove my suspicions. We walked up to Hide-park corner, from whence we set out at ten. Our spirits were high with the notion of the Adventure, and the variety that we met with as we went along is amazing. As the Spectator observes, one end of London is like a different country from the other in look & in manners.² We eat an excellent breakfast at the Somerset Coffeehouse.³ We turned down Gracechurch street and went upon the top of London Bridge, from whence we viewed with a pleasing horror, the rude and terrible appearance of the river partly froze up, partly covered with enormous shoals of floating ice which often crash’d against each other.⁴ Dempster said of this excursion from the road, that our Epic Poem would be somewhat dull if it were not enlivened by such Episodes. As we went along, I felt the symptoms increase which was very confounding & very distressing to me. I thought the best thing I could do was not to keep it secret, which would be difficult and troublesom[,] but fairly to own it to Dempster and Erskine and ask their advice & sympathy. They realy sympathised, and yet they could not help smiling a little, at my catching a tartar so very unexpectedly. When I imagined myself quite safe, & had been vaunting most heroicaly of my felicity, in having the posession of a fine woman, to whom I ascribed so many endearing qualities, that they realy doubted of her Existence, and used to call her my ideal Lady. We went half a mile beyond the turnpike at Whitechapel,⁵ which compleated our course; & went into a little Public house, & drank some warm white wine, with aromatic spices, pepper & Cinnamon. We were pleased with the neat houses upon the road.⁶ We met a Coach loaded with passengers both within & without; Said I[,] I defy all the Philosophers in the world to tell me why this is. Because (said Erskine) the people wanted a quick carriage from one place to another. So very easily are the most of the Speculations which I often perplex myself with, refuted. And yet if some such clever answerer is not at hand, I may puzzle & confound my brain for a good time, upon many occasions. To be sure this instance is too ludicrous. But, surely I and many more Speculative Men have been thrown into deep & serious thought about matters very little more serious. Yet the Mind will take it’s own way, do what we will. So that we may be rendered uneasy by such cloudy reveries, when we have no intention to be in such a humour. The best releif in such a case, is mirth and gentle amusement. We had a room to ourselves, and a jolly profusion of smoaking juicy beefsteaks. I eat like a very Turk or rather indeed like a very John Bull,⁷ whose supreme joy is good Beef. We had some Port and drank damnation to the Play, and eternal remorse to the Author. We then went to the Bedford Coffeehouse, & had coffee & tea; and just as the doors opened, at four o clock we sallied into the house, planted ourselves in the middle of the Pit, and with oaken cudgels in our hands, and shrill-sounding catcalls in our pockets, sat ready prepared with a generous resentment in our breasts, against dullness and Impudence, to be the swift ministers of vengeance. About five the house began to be pretty well filled. As is usual on first nights, some of us called to the Music to play Roast Beef.⁸ But they did not comply with our request, and we were not numerous enough to turn that request into a command, which in a London Theatre is quite a different sort of public speech. This was but a bad omen for our Party. It resembled a Party’s being worsted in the choice of Præses & Clerk, at an election in a Scotch County.⁹ However we kept a good spirit, and hoped the best. The Prologue was politicaly stupid. We hist it and had several to join us. That we might not be known we went by borrowed names. Dempster was Clarke, Erskine Smith and I Johnston. We did what we could during the first act, but found that the Audience had lost their original fire & spirit & were disposed to let it pass.¹⁰ Our Project was therefore disconcerted, our impetuosity damped; As we knew it would be needless to oppose that furious many-headed monster the Multitude, as it has been very well painted,¹¹ we were obliged to lay aside our laudable Undertaking in the cause of Genius and the cause of Modesty. After the Play, we went to Lady Betty’s: And as they were not disposed to eat, and we were very hungry after our fatigues, we were set down in the Parlour, by ourselves, to an excellent warm Supper. We were in high glee, and after supper threw out so many excellent sallies of humour & wit & satire on Malloch & his Play, that we determined to have a joint Sixpenny cut,¹² & fixed next day for throwing our sallies into order. The Evening was past most chearfully. When I got home tho’ then came sorrow. Too too plain was signior Gonorhœa. Yet I could scarce beleive it & determined to go to freind Douglas next day.

THURSDAY 20 JANUARY

I rose very disconsolate, having rested very ill by the poisonous infection raging in my veins, and anxiety & vexation boiling in my breast. I could scarcely credit my own senses. What! thought I, can this beautifull[,] this sensible and this agreable Woman be so sadly defiled? can Corruption lodge beneath so fair a form? Can she who profest delicacy of sentiment, and sincere regard for me, use me so very basely & so very cruely? No it is impossible. I have just got a gleet¹ by irritating the parts too much with excessive Venery. And yet these damned twinges, that scalding heat, and that deep-tinged loathsom matter are the strongest proofs of an Infection. But she certainly must think that I would soon discover her falshood. But perhaps she was ignorant of her being ill. A pretty conjecture indeed. No — she could not be ignorant. Yes, Yes, she intended to make the most of me. And now I recollect that the day we went to Hayward’s she showed me a Bill of thirty shillings about which she was in some uneasiness, & no doubt expected that I would pay it. But I was too cautious, and she had not effrontery enough to try my generosity in direct terms so soon after my letting her have two Guineas. And am I then taken in? Am I who have had safe & elegant intrigues with fine women, become the dupe of a Strumpet? Am I now to be laid up for many weeks to suffer extreme pain & dull confinement, and to be debarred all the comforts and pleasures of life? And then must I have my poor pocket drained by the unavoidable expence of it. And shall I no more (for a long time at least) take my walk, healthfull and spirited, round the Park before breakfast, view the Brilliant Guards on the Parade, and enjoy all my pleasing Amusements. And then am I prevented from making love to Lady Mirabel, or any other Woman of fashion. Oh dear O dear! what a cursed thing this is! What a miserable creature am I! In this woefull manner did I melancholy ruminate. I thought of applying to a quack who would cure me quickly and cheaply. But then the horrors of being imperfectly cured, and having the distemper thrown into my blood, terrified me exceedingly. I therefore pursued my resolution of last night to go to my freind Douglas whom I knew to be skillfull & carefull, and altho’ it should cost me more, yet to get sound health was a matter of great Importance, and I might save upon other articles. I accordingly went & breakfasted with him. Mrs. Douglas who has a prodigious memory, and knows a thousand Anecdotes, especialy of Scandal, told me, that Congreve the Poet lived in the family of old Lord Godolphin who is yet alive, and that Lady Godolphin was notoriously fond of him. In so much that her Lord having gone abroad upon an Embassy, for two years, on his return she presented him with a fine Girl, by the Author of love for love, which he was so indulgent as to accept of;² nay after Congreve’s death, he joined with her in greif, and allowed her to have an image of him in wax daily set at table, and nightly in her Bedchamber to which she spoke; beleiving it thro’ heat of fancy, or beleiving it in appearance to be Congreve himself.³ The Young Lady was most tenderly educated, and it is a certain fact that she was never suffered to see the Moon for fear she should cry for it. She is now Dutchess of Leeds,⁴ and has turned out extremely well. After breakfast Mrs. Douglas withdrew, and I opened my sad case to Douglas, who upon examining the parts, declared I had got an evident infection, and that the Woman who gave it me, could not but know of it. I joked with my freind, about the Expence, asked him if he would take a draught on my arrears,⁵ & bid him visit me seldom, that I might have the less to pay. To these jokes he seemed to give little heed, but talked seriously in the way of his Business. And here let me make a just & true Observation which is that the same man as a freind and as a Surgeon exhibits two very opposite characters. Douglas as a freind is most kind[,] most anxious for my interest, made me live ten days in his house, and suggested every plan of œconomy. But Douglas as a Surgeon will be as ready to keep me long under his hands, and as desirous to lay hold of my money as any Man. In short his views alter quite. I have to do not with him but his Profession. As Lady Northumberland was to have a great rout next day, I delayed beginning my course of medecine till friday night. Enraged at the perfidy of Louisa I resolved to go & upbraid her most severely; but this I thought was not acting with dignity enough. So I would talk to her cooly & make her feel her own unworthiness. But hearing the Duke of Queensberry was in town, I thought I would go and have one more brush at him and hear what he had to say. When I entered he looked somewhat abashed & timid, which encouraged me. My Lord[,] said I, I got Your Grace’s letter, and was sorry for the contents. Your Grace was pleased to mention my following a civil life. I should be glad to know what. The law I am not able for. If indeed I could be put upon the civil list,⁶ for about a thousand a year, as Sir Francis Wronghead says,⁷ I should like it very well. — At this he laughed. He then talked of the difficulty of getting a Commission. Certainly[,] said I[,] my Lord Duke[,] it is very difficult. But your Grace has never yet mentioned me to Lord Ligonier. I should be sorry to give your Grace a great deal of trouble, but I should think that it would not be much to mention the thing once, so as I might be put upon Lord Ligonier’s list. He promised to me that he would mention it. In short I find that indolence was the matter with him, & that he must be pushed, altho’ I have but little hopes from him. I then went to Louisa. With excellent address did I carry on this Interview as the following Scene I trust will make appear.

L. My Dear Sir! I hope you are well today.

B. Excessively well, I thank you. I hope I find you so.

L No realy Sir. I am distrest with a thousand things (cunning jade[;] her circumstances)[.] I realy dont know what to do.

B Do you know that I have been very unhappy since I saw you.

L How So Sir?

B Why I am affraid that you dont love me so well, nor have not such a regard for me, as I thought you had.

L Nay, Dear Sir (seeming unconcerned)[.]

B Pray Madam have I no reason?

L No Indeed Sir you have not.

B Have I no reason Madam? pray think.

L Sir!

B Pray Madam in what state of health have you been in, for some time.

L Sir you amaze me.

B I have but too strong[,] too plain reason to doubt of your regard. I have for some days observed the symptoms of disease. But was unwilling to beleive you so very ungenerous. But now Madam, I am thoroughly convinced.

L Sir you have terrified me. I protest I know nothing of the matter.

B Madam I have had no connection with any woman but you, these two months. I was with my Surgeon this morning, who declared I had got a strong Infection and that she from whom I had it, could not be ignorant of it. Madam such a thing in this case is worse than from a Woman of the town. As from her you may expect it. You have used me very ill. I did not deserve it. You know you said where there was no confidence, there was no breach of trust. But, surely I placed some confidence in you. I am sorry that I was mistaken.

L Sir I will confess to you, that about three years ago I was very bad. But for these fifteen months I have been quite well. I appeal to God Allmighty that I am speaking true; and for these six months I have had to do with no man but yourself.

B But By G—d Madam I have been with none but you, & here am I very bad.

L Well Sir By the same solemn oath I protest that I was ignorant of it.

B Madam I wish much to beleive you. But I own I can not upon this occasion beleive a Miracle.

L Sir I cannot say more to you. But you will leave me in the greatest misery. I shall lose your esteem. I shall be hurt in the opinion of everybody and in my circumstances.

B (to himself) What the Devil does the confounded Jilt mean by being hurt in her circumstances. This is the grossest cunning. But I won’t take notice of that at all[.] — Madam as to the opinion of every body, you need not be affraid. I was going to joke & say that I never boast of a Lady’s favours. But I give you my word of honour that you shall not be discovered.⁸

L Sir This is being more generous than I could expect.

B I hope Madam you will own that since I have been with you, I have allways behaved like a man of honour.

L You have indeed Sir.

B (rising) Madam your most obedient Servant.

During all this conversation I realy behaved with a manly composure & polite dignity that could not fail to inspire an awe and she was pale as ashes and trembled and faultered. Thrice did she insist on my staying a little longer, as it was probably the last time that I should be with her. She could say nothing to the purpose. And I sat silent. As I was going, said she[:] I hope Sir, you will give me leave to enquire after your health. Madam, said I, archly[,] I fancy it will be needless for some weeks. She again renewed her request. But unwilling to be plagued any more with her, I put her off by saying I might perhaps go to the country & left her. I was realy confounded at her behaviour. There is scarcely a possibility that she could be innocent of the crime of horrid imposition. And yet her positive asseverations realy stunned me. She is in all probability, a most consummate dissembling Whore.⁹ Thus ended my intrigue with the fair Louisa, which I flattered myself so much with, and from which I expected at least a Winter’s safe copulation. It is indeed very hard. I cannot say like young fellows who get themselves clap’d in a Bawdy-House, that I will take better care again. For I realy did take care. However since I am fairly trap’d, let me make the best of it. I have not got it, from imprudence. It is merely the chance of war.

I then called at Drury-lane, for Mr. Garrick. He was vastly good to me. Sir, said he, you will be a very great man. And when you are so, remember the year 1763. I want to contribute my part towards saving you. And pray will you fix a day when I shall have the pleasure of treating you with tea. — I fixed next day — Then Sir said he the cups shall dance, and the sawcers skip. What he meant by my being a great man I can understand. For realy, to speak seriously, I think there is a blossom about me of something more distinguished than the generality of Mankind. But I am much affraid that this Blossom will never swell into fruit; but will be nip’d & destroyed by many a blighting heat, & chilling frost. Indeed I sometimes indulge noble Reveries of having a Regiment, of getting into parliament, making a figure, and becoming a man of consequence in the state. But these are checked by dispiriting reflections on my melancholy temper and imbecillity of mind. Yet I may probably become sounder & stronger as I grow up. Heaven knows. I am resigned. I trust to Providence. I was quite in raptures with Garrick’s kindness — the man whom from a Boy I used to adore & look upon as a Heathen God — to find him paying me so much respect! How amiable is he in comparrison of Sheridan. I was this day with him, what the French call un Etourdie.¹⁰ I gave free vent to my feelings. Love was by, to whom I cried, This Sir is the real scene. And taking Mr. Garrick cordialy by the hand, Thou greatest of men said I, I cannot express how happy you make me. This, upon my soul[,] was no flattery. He saw it was not. And the dear great man was truly pleased with it. This scene gave me a charming flutter of spirits, & dispelled my former gloom. I dined at Lady Betty’s, as I resolved to live well these two days, knowing that severe starving would be my lot for some weeks after.¹¹ I was now very sick & in very great pain. Yet we were merry enough. After dinner, Erskine produced our observations on Elvira thrown into a Pamphlet size. We corrected it, & I copied it out. We resolved to take it to Flexney near Grays Inn Holborn[,] who being Mr. Churchill’s Bookseller, was well known.¹² To give ourselves a good air, we took Lady Betty’s coach, and away we drove between nine & ten, called upon Flexney whom we found a fine lively affable little man. Erskine said he conceived an Affection for him from the first moment that he saw him. We explained our Business, and he readily undertook it. Both I & Erskine behaved with good address. We came back & supt. The Dempsters were there. We were very hearty & well. I said Erskine was wonderfully improved. For that he used to be like a burthen to me, I had him to carry, and now and then set him down, and had a good entertainment out of him. But that now he was become animated, and could go about himself & was more entertaining than ever. Indeed, my good freind is much altered to the better this winter. He is more content, has more constant spirits, and greater ease of manners than ever he had. He candidly owns that I have contributed greatly towards making him a better member of Society. When I got home, I felt myself very bad.

FRIDAY 21 JANUARY

Between nine & ten, I went to Mr. Garrick’s. He received me with particular kindness. Mrs. Garrick made breakfast for us. She is an italian Lady,¹ was a famous dancer on the Stage & when she married Mr. Garrick[,] Lord Burlington gave her £10000.² She is a genteel agreable unaffected creature. Love was there, also Doctor Brown[,] Author of Athelstan[,] The Estimate &c.³ I entertained them with some of our remarks on Elvira. We talked of the Works of Ossian which Brown extolled to the Skies. Brown instead of being the severe Pedant that I expected is an easy lively entertaining man. I quite forgot my distemper. It was a fine morning. We had a genteel breakfast, which I think the most agreable meal, in ease and plenty. I was sitting with the great Roscius⁴ of the Age, & with a very good Poet. In short this was a period of felicity. I was happy I could not tell how. We walked into Mr. Garrick’s library which is a handsom room with a pretty large collection of good books, and some Busts and Pictures. As he was obliged to attend Rehearsal in the forenoon we were too soon deprived of his company. He asked me to come whenever I could. I rejoyced. This is realy establishing myself in a charming Place. I shall there see all the men of genius of the age. Let me indulge the pleasing prospect of the many happy hours which I shall pass there, when I again am blest with health.

I then called on Lord Eglintoune — No — I mistake it was yesterday that I was there. I am scrupulous to a nicety about truth. He discovered by my looks that I was ill. I went with him into another room, and confest my misfortune. He was going to blame my rashness at first, but upon my telling him that my Dulcinea was an Actress he was silent. I told Him I have had several intrigues within these two years & that if I was taken in but once in four or five times I was not unlucky. He agreed to all this. He was realy kind today. I loved him; & I could see that it was in vain for me to carry it high with him, for he did not understand it. He said he wished I could be kept at a mediocrity of spirits, neither too high, nor too low. But he was affraid I was low as I had not come near him for sometime. Nay, My Lord[,] said I. I am high, and dont require you. Said he[,] you should have half a dozen of your freinds, to whom you should come regularly. I asked him to come & sit an afternoon with me. He promised he would. This forenoon I thought that our Pamphlet was too abusive, so Dempster & I went & got it back. Flexney said[,] very like a Gentleman[,] that he thought it had less cleverness than Scurrility. But if it were made more genteel it would do. We agreed to do so. Erskine at first was somewhat sulky. But at last he consented, & it was polished & sent back for the press in a day or two. I dined at Macfarlan’s pretty hearty and drank tea at Dempster’s. I next went to Lady Northumberland’s grand rout. I was in severe distress & grew very low-spirited. I cared for nothing & I thought life very tiresom. I chatted a little with Lady Mirabel, but she was dissipated by the crowd & hurry. I got no speaking to Lady Northumberland and I could scarce keep my dreary humour from perswading me that she despised me, a sure sign of the spleen, which makes us allways imagine that we are despised. I chatted awhile with Lord Eglintoune. He promised that when I got sound, he would introduce me to some Women of intrigue of the highest fashion. I came home in bad situation both of body & mind. I had informed my Landlord of my misfortune, that every thing might be got convenient for me[,] about which he was very obliging. I laid by my hat & sword, begun to take medecine & cooly resolved to endure my ill chance patiently.