Journal from the time of my leaving Scotland 15 Novr. 1762.

INTRODUCTION.

The ancient Philosopher certainly gave a wise counsel when he said ‘Know thyself.’¹ For surely this knowledge is of all the most important. I might enlarge upon this. But grave & serious declamation is not what I intend at present. A man cannot know himself better than by attending to the feelings of his heart and to his external Actions from which he may with tollerable certainty judge ‘what manner of person he is’.² I have therefore determined to keep a dayly journal in which I shall set down my various sentiments and my various conduct which will be not only usefull; but very agreable. It will give me a habit of application and improve me in expression and knowing that I am to record my transactions will make me more carefull to do well. Or if I should go wrong, it will assist me in resolutions of doing better. I shall here put down my thoughts on different subjects at different times, the whims that may seize me and the sallies of my luxuriant Imagination. I shall mark the Anecdotes and the stories that I hear, the instructive or amusing conversations that I am present at, and the various adventures that I may have. I was observing to my friend Erskine³ that a Plan of this kind was dangerous as a Man might in the openess of his heart say many things & discover⁴ many facts that might do him great harm if the Journal should fall into the hands of my⁵ Ennemies. Against which there is no perfect security. Indeed said he I hope there is no danger at all; for I fancy you will not set down your robberies on the Highway, or the Murders that you commit. As to other things there can be no harm. I laughed heartily at my friend’s Observation which was so far true. I shall be upon my guard to mention nothing that can do harm. Truth shall ever be observed and these things (if there should be any such) that require the gloss of falshood shall be past by in silence. At the same time I may relate things under borrowed names with safety that would do much mischief if particularly known. In this way I shall preserve many things that would otherwise be lost in oblivion. I shall find dayly Employment for myself, which will save me from Indolence & help to keep off the Spleen⁶ and I shall lay up a store of entertainment for my after life. Very often we have more pleasure in reflecting on agreable scenes that we have been in, than we had from the scenes themselves. I shall regularly record the business or rather the pleasure of every day. I shall not study much correctness lest the labour of it should make me lay it aside alltogether. I hope it will be of use to my worthy friend Johnstone⁷ and that while he laments my personal absence, this Journal may in some measure supply that defect & make him happy.

MONDAY 15 NOVEMBER

Elated with the thoughts of my journey to London, I got up. I called upon my friend Johnstone, but found he was not come from the country[,] which vexed me a little, as I wished to bid him cordialy adieu.¹ However I excused him to myself, and as Cairnie² told me that People never took leave in France, I made the thing sit pretty easy. I had a long serious conversation with my Father and Mother.³ They were very kind to me. I felt parental affection was very strong towards me; and I felt a very warm filial regard for them. The scene of being a Son setting out from home for the wide world and the idea of being my own Master, pleased me much. I parted with my Brother Davie leaving him my best advices to be diligent at his Business as a Banker and to make rich and be happy.⁴ At ten I got into my chaise & away I went. As I past the cross the Cadies and the Chairmen bowed & seemed to say God prosper long our noble Boswell.⁵ I rattled down the high-street⁶ in high elevation of spirits[,] bowed & smiled to Acquaintances, & took up my partner at Boyd’s Close. He was a Mr. Stewart eldest son to Ardshiel who was forfeited in the year 1746.⁷ He had made four voyages to the east indies & was now going out first Mate.⁸ I made the chaise stop at the foot of the Cannongate; asked pardon of Mr. Stewart for a minute: walked to the Abbey of Holyroodhouse, went round the Piazas[,] bowed thrice, once to the Palace itself, once to the crown of Scotland above the Gate in front, and once to the venerable old Chapel.⁹ I next stood in the court before the Palace, and bowed thrice to Arthur-Seat,¹⁰ that lofty romantic Mountain on which I have so often strayed in my days of youth, indulged Meditation & felt the raptures of a soul filled with ideas of the Magnificence of God and his Creation. Having thus gratified my agreable whim and superstitious humour I felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Indeed I have a strong turn to what the cool part of Mankind have named Superstition. But this proceeds from my genius for Poetry, which ascribes many fancifull properties to every thing. This I have great pleasure from; as I have now by experience and reflection gained the command of it so far, that I can keep it within just bounds by the power of reason, without losing the agreable feeling & play to the Imagination, which it bestows. I am surely much happier in this way, than if I just considered Holyroodhouse as so much Stone and lime which has been put together in a certain way; and Arthur Seat as so much earth & rock raised above the neighbouring Plains. We then pursued our Journey.¹¹ I found my Companion a jolly honest plain fellow. I set out with a determined resolution against shaving[,]¹² that is to say playing upon people, and therefore I talked sensibly & roughly. We did very well till we past Old Cambus,¹³ when one of the wheels of our chaise was so much broke that it was of no use. The driver proposed that we should mount the horses, & ride to Berwick;¹⁴ But this I would by no means agree to, & as my Partner let me be the principal Man and take the Direction of our Journey, I made the chaise be drag’d on to Aytoun,¹⁵ where we waited till the Driver rode to Berwick and brought us a chaise. Never did I pass three hours more unhappily. We were set down in a cold Alehouse in a little dirty village. We had a Beef-stake ill-drest & had nothing to drink but thick muddy Beer. We were both out of humour so that we could not speak. We tried to sleep but in vain. We only got a drowsy headach. We were scorched by the fire on the one hand and shiv’ring with frost on the other. At last our chaise came & we got to Berwick about twelve at night. We had a slice of hard dry toast[,] a bowl of warm negoes¹⁶ &went comfortable to bed.

TUESDAY 16 NOVEMBER

We set off at six; breakfasted at Alnwick¹ where we had with us a Captain Elliot² of the East indies & were hearty. Stewart & I began now to be acquainted and to talk about the Peace³ & Voyages and ways of living. We had a safe day, & got at night to Durham.⁴

WEDNESDAY 17 NOVEMBER

We had a very good day of it, and got at night to Doncaster.¹

THURSDAY 18 NOVEMBER

We chatted a good deal. Stewart told me that some Blacks in India were attacking their boat in order to plunder it, and that he shot two with his own hand.¹ In the afternoon between Stamford & Stilton² there was a young unruly horse in the chaise, which run away with the driver, & jumping to one side of the road, we were overturned. We got a pretty severe rap. Stewart’s head and my arm were somewhat hurt. However we got up & pursued our way. During our two last stages this night which we travelled in the dark, I was a good deal affraid of Robbers. A great many horrid Ideas filled my mind. There is no passion so distressing as fear, which gives us great pain and makes us appear contemptible in our own eyes to the last degree. However, I affected resolution and [as] each of us carried a loaded Pistol in his hand we were pretty secure. We got at night to Biggles wade.³

FRIDAY 19 NOVEMBER

It was very cold. Stewart was as effeminate as I. I asked him how he who shivered if a pane of glass was broke in a Post-Chaise could bear the severe hardships of a sea life. He gave me to understand that Necessity made any thing be endured. Indeed this is very true: For when the mind knows that it cannot help itself by strugling, it quietly & patiently submits to whatever load is laid upon it. When we came upon Highgate hill,¹ & had a view of London I was all life & Joy. I repeated Cato’s Soliloquy on the immortality of the Soul² and my Soul bounded forth to a certain prospect of happy futurity. I sung all manner of Songs & began to make one about an amorous meeting with a pretty girl; the burthen of which was as follows.

She gave me this, I gave her that

And tell me had she not tit for tat.³

I gave three huzzas & we went briskly in. I got from Digges a list of the best houses on the road and also a direction to a good Inn at London.⁴ I therefore made the Boy drive me to Mr. Hayward’s at the black Lyon, water-lane fleetstreet.⁵ The noise, the crowd the glare of shops & signs agreably confused me. I was rather more wildly struck than when I first came to London.⁶ My Companion could not understand my feelings: He considered London just as a Place where he was to receive orders from the east india Company.⁷ We now parted with saying that we had agreed well & been happy & that we should keep up the acquaintance.⁸ I then had a bit of dinner, got myself shaved & cleaned, & had my landlord a civil jolly man to take a glass of wine with me. I was all in a flutter at having at last got to the place which I was so madly fond of, & being restrained, had formed so many wild schemes to get back to. I had recourse to Philosophy & so rendered myself calm. I immediatly went to my friend Douglasse’s[,] Surgeon in Pallmall[,] a kind-hearted plain sensible man; where I was cordialy received. His Wife is a good humoured woman & is that sort of character which is often met with in England[,] very lively without much wit.⁹ Her fault is speaking too much which often tires people. He was my great Adviser as to every thing; & in the mean time insisted that I should have a bed in his house till I got a lodging to my mind. I agreed to come there next day. I went to Covent Garden¹⁰ — Every Man in his Humour.¹¹ Woodward played Bobadil finely.¹² He entertained me much. It was fine after the fatigues of my journey, to find myself snug in a Theatre[,] my body warm, & my mind elegantly amused. I went to my Inn had some negoes & went comfortably to bed.

SATURDAY 20 NOVEMBER

I got into a hackney-coach¹ with my baggage, & drove to Douglasse’s. We calculated my Expenses, & I found that to live would require great œconomy.² However, I was upon honour to do my best. I strolled about all the forenoon calling for different People; but found nobody in. I went & saw a Collection of wild beasts.³ I felt myself bold[,] easy & happy. Only I had a kind of uneasiness from feeling no amazing difference between my existence now & at Edinburgh. I dined⁴ at Douglasse’s [&] sat in all the afternoon & wrote letters.⁵

SUNDAY 21 NOVEMBER

I got up well & enjoyed my good Situation. I had a handsom dining-room & Bed-chamber, just in Pall-Mall, the finest part of the town. I was in pursuit of my Commission,¹ which I was vastly fond of; and I had money enough to live like a Gentleman. I went to May-fair Chapel² & heard prayers & an excellent sermon from the Book of Job, on the comforts of Piety. I was in a fine frame. And I thought that God realy designed us to be happy. I shall certainly be a religious old Man. I was much so in youth. I have now & then flashes of devotion, & it will one day burn with a steady flame.³ I waited on Mr. George Lewis Scott⁴ who was very kind & polite to me, & on the Laird of Macfarlane,⁵ with whom I was a good deal diverted. He was keenly interested in the reigning contests between Scots & English. He talked much against the Union.⁶ He said we were perfect Underlings[;] that our riches were carried out of the country[;] that no town but Glasgow had any advantage of trade by it; and that many others were hurt by it. I dined with Doctor Pringle⁷ where were Mr. Murdoch the Publisher or rather the Editor of Thomson,⁸ Mr. Seymours a travelling Governour⁹ & some more all Scotch. I found the Doctor in the way of discouraging me; which as from my Father’s friend I took patiently & intended to get the better of. The conversation was on indifferent common topics. The Peace. Lord Bute.¹⁰ Footmen & Cookery. I went to Douglasse’s & drank tea. I next went & called in Southampton Street Strand, for Miss Sally Forrester¹¹ my first love. Who lived at the blue Periwig.¹² I found that the People of the house were broke & dead¹³ & could hear nothing of her. I also called for Miss Jeany Wells in Barrack Street Soho,¹⁴ but found that she was fled they knew not whither, & had been ruined with extravagance. Good heaven thought I what an amazing change in two years! I saw in the year 1760 these young Ladies in all the glow of Beauty & Admiration; and now they are utterly erased or worse. I then called on Love & saw him & Mrs. Love & Billy.¹⁵ I eat a tart there. He showed me a Pantomime called the Witches of his.¹⁶

Since I came up I have begun to acquire a composed genteel character very different from a rattling uncultivated one which for sometime past I have been fond of. I have discovered that we may be in some degree whatever character we chuse. Besides, practice forms a man to any thing. I was now happy to find myself cool easy and serene.

MONDAY 22 NOVEMBER

I strolled about all day looking for lodgings. At night I went to Drury lane and saw Garrick¹ play Scrub & the Farmer returned; and Love play Bonniface;² which brought the Cannongate full in my head. I was exceedingly well entertained.

TUESDAY 23 NOVEMBER

I went into the City¹ & called for George Home, Lord Kames’s Son.² As Lord Eglintoune had used me neglectfully,³ and as I considered him as not to be depended upon I determined to keep clear of him as a Patron; but to like him as a Companion; and if he offered to do me any service good & well; But I should ask no assistance from him. I called thrice, but he was out. This day, I received a formal card of invitation to dine with him; I went & was warmly received. Finding myself with him in the very dining room where in my days of youthfull fire I had been so happy, melted me much. Millne the Architect⁴ dined with us. We talked on a rude & on a polished state of Society. I kept up a retenue⁵ & spoke only when I was sure that I was right. I drank tea. I parted from him on a very good footing.

WEDNESDAY 24 NOVEMBER

I called on Dodsley & found that altho’ he had refused to take the hazard of publishing my Cub, that it had sold well, & that there was 13 Shillings of proffit, which I made him pay me down.¹ Never did I set so high a value on a Sum. I was much in spirits. I still went about seeking lodgings; but could find none that would answer. At night I called on Pringle. He was sour. Indeed he is a good deal so; altho’ a sensible learned man: A good Philosopher & an excellent Physician. By the chearfull ease of my address² I made him smile & be very kind to me. I consulted him about all my plans. I began to find that £200 a year was very little. I left him before 12. I began to tire much of Mrs. Douglas. She spoke so much. And I was rather somewhat lowspirited.

THURSDAY 25 NOVEMBER

I had been in a bad situation during the night: for I dreamt that Johnstone did not care for me. That he came to see me sett off on a long journey, & that he seemed dissipated & tired, & left me before I got away. I lay abed very gloomy. I thought London did me no good. I rather disliked it; & I thought of going back to Edinburgh, immediatly. In short I was most miserable. I got up & breakfasted. I got a card from Lord Eglintoune asking me to the house of Lords.¹ I accordingly went & heard the King make his Speech.² It was a very noble thing. I here beheld the King of Great Brittain on his throne with the crown on his head addressing both the Lords & the Commons. His Majesty spoke better than any man I ever heard. With dignity[,] delicacy & ease. I admired him. I wished much to be acquainted with him.³ I went to Love’s & drank tea. I had now been sometime in town without female sport. I determined to have nothing to do with Whores as my health was of great consequence to me.⁴ I went to a Girl,⁵ with whom I had an intrigue at Edinburgh but my affection cooling, I had left her. I knew she was come up.⁶ I waited on her & tried to obtain my former favours; but in vain. She would by no means listen. I was realy unhappy for want of women. I thought it hard to be in such a place without them. I picked up a girl⁷ in the Strand [&] went into a court with intention to enjoy her in armour.⁸ But she had none. I toyed with her. She wondered at my size, & said If I ever took a Girl’s Maiden-head, I would make her squeak. I gave her a shilling; & had command enough of myself to go without touching her. I afterwards trembled at the danger I had escaped. I resolved to wait chearfully, till I got some safe girl or was liked by some woman of fashion. I went to Lord Eglintoune’s[.] John Ross M^ckye⁹ was there. We had a little bit of supper, & I was easy. I have never yet mentioned General Douglas¹⁰ whom I found to be a plain civil man. I learnt that the Duke of Queensberry was not to be in town till Sunday so that till then, I could know nothing certain of my Commission.¹¹

FRIDAY 26 NOVEMBER

I waited on Lord Adam Gordon¹ who was very polite. I liked to see a Colonel of the Guards in his elegant house. I was much difficulted about lodgings. A variety I am sure I saw. I dare say fifty. I was amused in this way. At last I fixed in Downing-Street Westminster. I took a lodging up two pair of Stairs with the use of a handsom parlour all the forenoon, for which I agreed to pay 40 guineas a year, but I took it for a forthnight first; by way of a tryal. I also made bargain that I should dine with the family whenever I pleased, at a shilling a time. My Landlord was Mr. Terrie chamberkeeper to the office for Trade & Plantations. [H]e was originaly from the shire of Murray. He had a Wife but no children.² The Street was a genteel street, within a few steps of the Parade;³ near the house of commons & very healthfull. I went to Mr. Cochrane⁴ my Banker & received £25[,] my allowance every six weeks. I then dined with Lord Eglintoune. Lord Elibank⁵ was there[,] a man of great genius great knowledge & much whim; & Sir James Macdonald⁶ a remarkable young man of good parts & great Application. So that he knows a great deal. Also Sir Simeon Stuart⁷ much of a Gentleman. We had much ingenious talk. But I am dull & cannot recollect it. Before this I Saw the Witches a Pantomime. I felt composed serene happy.

SATURDAY 27 NOVEMBER

I walked into the City & ordered a remaining parcel of my Cub to be sent to Donaldson.¹ I then breakfasted at Child’s Coffeehouse,² read the political papers & had some chat with citizens. On Sunday I had called at the Inner Temple for my old friend Temple.³ But did not find him. This day I called again. He was out of town.⁴ I longed to see him. I then went to Lord Eglintoune’s. Finding him very obliging, I was glad to take the benefit of it. He carried me to Covent Garden in a Coach & bid me wait in the Bedford Coffee-house⁵ till he sent for me. In a few minutes the famous Mr. Beard⁶ of Covent Garden Theatre came for me, & carried me up a great many steps to a handsom room above the Theatre, in which was met the Beefsteak Club,⁷ a Society which has subsisted these 30 years. The room where it met was once burnt. The Gridiron (in Scotch Brander) was allmost consumed; but a thin image of it remained entire. That they have fixed in the Stucko in the roof. The President sits in a chair under a canopy above which you have in golden letters Beef and Liberty. We were entertained by the Club. Lord Sandwich⁸ was in the chair. A jolly hearty lively man. It was a very mixed Society. Lord Eglintoune[,] Mr. Beard, Colonel West of the Guards.⁹ Mr. Havard the Actor.¹⁰ Mr. Churchill the Poet.¹¹ Mr. Wilkes the author of the North-Britton,¹² and many more. We had nothing to eat but beefsteaks, & had wine & Punch in plenty & freedom. We had a number of Songs. Lord Eglintoune & I talked a little privately. He imagined me much in the stile that I was three years ago; raw curious volatile credulous. He little knew the experience I had got & the notions & the composure that I had obtained by reflection. My Lord said I[,] I am now a little wiser. Not so much as you think said he: For, as a Boy who has just learned the Alphabet, when he begins to make out words, thinks himself a great master of reading; so the little advance you have made in prudence, appears very great as it is so much before what you was formerly. I owned that there was some justice in what he said: and I hoped that a little diffidence would help to keep me safe. I told him I was sorry that my dedication without leave to the Duke of York, had been ill-taken and I insisted that he should make it up, & bring us together which he half assented to.¹³ My Lord’s character is very particular. He is a Man of uncommon Genius for every thing, strong good sense[,] great quickness of Apprehension & liveliness of fancy with a great deal of humour. He was neglected in his Education, so that his knowledge from books, is superficial. Yet he has picked up an infinite variety of knowlege from conversation. He has at the same time a flightiness[,] a reverie & absence of mind with a disposition to downright trifling. Pope’s lines may be applied to him.

With too much quickness ever to be taught

With too much thinking to have common thought.¹⁴

He is very selfish & deceitfull: Yet he has much good-nature & affection. He now declared to me that he liked me as well as ever. And I beleive he spoke truth. For I have such an opinion of myself as to imagine that nobody can be more agreable company to him. Yet I kept aloof in some measure. And finding myself too fond of him, I pulled the reins hard. We parted at 7. I went to my lodging in Downing-street & put up my things[,] then went & saw the King & Queen pass from the Opera;¹⁵ & then saw the Guards drawn up in the Court of the Palace¹⁶ while the Moon shone & showed their splendor. I was all gentle felicity, & thought on an Edinburgh Saturday past in a variety of amusing scenes.¹⁷ I had now got a genteel violet coloured frock suit.¹⁸ I went home sat a while with my Landlord & Landlady. They made too much work about me. I went to bed.

SUNDAY 28 NOVEMBER¹

Dress — have Barber & hair drest — Then D[ouglas]’s & advise. Then the General’s & go to the Duke’s; or if he is not come to St. James’s church.² Home before 3 — dine if not church forenoon at 4³ — then L’s as he’s at Club, & try old cannon g{ate}[.]⁴ leave full card at Northumb. House.⁵ Put things in order. Cause buy Candles. Ask about wax or not for a week.⁶ order coals. Get tea & Sugar — & cause buy Bread each day — & butter now & then. Get 4to book to mark Expen.⁷ Finish journ[al] short tull⁸ now — then begin long. keep back to give out linnen.⁹

I breakfasted with Mr. Douglas. I went to St. James’s Church & heard service & a good sermon on By what means shall a young man learn to order his ways,¹⁰ in which the advantages of early piety were well displayed. What a curious inconsistent thing is the mind of Man! In the midst of divine service I was laying plans for having women, & yet I had the most sincere feelings of Religion. I imagine that my want¹¹ of beleif is the occasion of this: So that I can have all the feelings. I would try to make out a little consistency, this way. I have a warm heart & a vivacious fancy. I am therefore given to love, and also to Piety or gratitude to God, and to the most brilliant and showy method of public Worship.

I then walked in the Park¹² & went home to Dinner which was just a good joint of veal & a Pudding. This they told me was their usual fare, which I approved of. I found my Landlord rather too free. Therefore I carried myself with reserve & something of state. At Six I went to Mr. Sheridan’s.¹³ He had been at court¹⁴ & was splendidly drest. He met me at the door with a cordial warmth. I felt a little out as his plan for me of the Temple¹⁵ was changed. He is a man of great genius & understands propriety of speech better than any body. But he is rather too much of an enthusiast in favour of his darling Study. He has read much, & seen much and is very good company. I was introduced to Mrs. Sheridan[,] a woman of very homely looks, but very sensible and very clever as appears from her memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph.¹⁶ I let myself appear by degrees, & I found that I was agreable to her which flattered me a good deal. I asked for Mr. Samuel Johnson.¹⁷ Sheridan said he now could not bear him: because he had taken a pension of 300 a year from the court, by the particular interest of Lord Bute, & yet he still railed against the Royal family & the Scots Minister.¹⁸ I said I imagined he put it upon this; that the Pension was not a favour but a reward due to his merit: and therefore he would show still the same principles of opposition freely & openly. No Sir said he. Johnson took it as a favour: waited on Lord Bute; said he could not find an english word to express what he felt & was therefore obliged to have recourse to the French. I am penetré with his Majesty’s goodness. This being the case, his business was to be silent: or if called upon to give his opinion to say ‘Gentlemen my sentiments are just the same that they were: But an obligation forbids me to say much.’ It hurt me to find Sheridan abusing a man for whom I have heard him profess the greatest regard. He added ‘the Bearish manners of Johnson were insupportable without the idea of his having a good heart: But since he has been made the object of royal favour, his character has been sifted & is bad.’ I drank tea & coffee & was very well. I came home and went to Bed.

MONDAY 29 NOVEMBER

Hair drest. Then get tea & Sugar. ask for chest. Order coal & candle & Butter. Wait for Washerwoman. Get some thin writing paper.¹ At 11 call L[ove] & try all rhettoric old {girl}[.] If not in — if in — Mrs. Ward.² If time temple.³ At 4 Erskine.⁴ Then home finish journ. Put things in order. At night have feet washed.⁵ See for Sword & Hat. Keep separate page each artic[le] & mark the week’s dinners & pay each Sat[urday] & lodging each quarter. Concert with φ & vow {eternal constancy and regard}.⁶ Send for cloaths immed — Say as the {house} is but 52 your {part} should be but 30⁷ —

I breakfasted with My Landlord. I then called at Love’s, saw Mr. George Garrick[,]⁸ very like his Brother. Admired Miss Pope⁹ of Drury-lane at the opposite window, sauntered awhile, then dined Lady Francis Erskine’s;¹⁰ both her sons were there;¹¹ and Mr. Grant son to Sir Ludovick.¹² We were very genteel & very dull. We just said the same things that every body in town were saying. As I have no conversation of this day to mark[,] I must be obliged to some former days.¹³

Lord Eglintoune said that a Savage had as much pleasure in eating his rude meals, & hearing the rough notes of the Bagpipe, as a man in polished society had in the most elegant entertainment, & in hearing the finest music. Mr. Millne very justly observed that to judge of their happiness we must have the decision of a being superior to them both, who should feel the pleasure of each; and in that case it would be found that altho’ each had his taste fully gratified, yet that the civilized man having his taste more refined & susceptible of higher enjoyment, must be acknowledged to have the greatest happiness. Sir James Macdonald and Lord Elibank descanted much on the character of Hannibal¹⁴ and admired him most for his thorough knowledge of the People that he had to deal with. Lord Elibank is a man of strong genius[,] great reading & lively imagination. Sir James Macdonald has natural quickness, and has led a life of hard study these many years so that he has got an excellent foundation. How he will build upon it is hard to say. Mr. Sheridan said if he is not able to throw out his knowledge with spirit it will not avail him much. For a Bookcase contains more learning than he. Sir James is too much of the fellow of a College to be easy & agreable in Company, as he allways introduces some learned subject. He has also the appearance of too much haughtiness, which is disgusting.

Lord Eglintoune said that he¹⁵ knew nothing but Men[,] Women and Horses. Sir James said that the proper knowledge of Mankind was to be gained from History. My Lord said that he who knew men only in this way was like one who had got the theory of anatomy perfectly, but who in practice would find himself very aukward and liable to mistakes. That he again who knew men by observation was like one who picked up Anatomy by practice, but who like all Empirics would for a long time be liable to gross errors. In my opinion History is more usefull for understanding the great lines of men’s characters when united in great Societys altho’ to be sure the hearts & understandings of individuals are there in some measure displayed. But to know men a long experience of life & manners is most usefull. History & that together render the knowledge compleat.

TUESDAY 30 NOVEMBER

Hair drest. Break[fast] in Parlour.¹ pay Coal Candle & Butter: & cause milk be charged weekly. pay bread also weekly. Send porter for cloaths. Send for Landlord. Say you’re sorry. but you have found what will suit you better & you’ll allways be glad to see him, & he may let the floor when he pleases. then go Crown court² & take for year so as to be fixed. Ask all the particulars. Go to Sher[idan’s] at 4. Sit in till then & finish journ & write C fully.³ get franks from Dempst[er] & Coutts.⁴

I had young Douglas of Douglas and young Douglas of Pallmall both Westminster Scholars⁵ to breakfast with me. I went with them & took a walk to Westminster-Abbey among the tombs [&] was solemn and happy. I dined with Mr. Sheridan. He was quite enthusiastic about oratory. He said Garrick had no real feeling; that his talents for mimicry enabled him to put on the appearance of feeling & that the nicety of his art might please the fancy, & make us cry that’s fine. But as it was art, it could never touch the heart. Mr. Sheridan’s distinction was just; but does not apply to Garrick, because he often has touched the heart and drawn tears from multitudes. After dinner, old Victor[,] many years joint manager of the Dublin Stage[,] Poet Laureat of Ireland and Author of the History of the Theatres came in.⁶ He is an honest indolent conversable man, & has a great many Anecdotes. He told us that he was one day dining with Mr. Booth, when Mrs. Booth⁷ brought in a Girl to sing some lively Songs. She was much liked & taken into the Theatre at 20 Shillings a week, & who was this but Mrs. Pritchard who has risen so high in dramatic fame.⁸ Sheridan said there were not three lines in a play spoke well on Drury lane Stage. Victor looked at me, & shook his head. Without propriety of Speech[,] said Sheridan[,] all the powers of acting are nothing. It is just like time in dancing. And let a dancer play never so many tricks & feats of agility he will not be applauded if he does not observe time. This comparison is not just. Because the greatest part of an audience have ear enough to judge of time, but very very few can judge of propriety of speech as that is a thing never taught them, and therefore the ornaments of action must please them independent of that. He inveighed much against the directors of his English Scheme at Edinburgh as if they thought from the beginning of knocking it on the head & so had lost an opportunity of improvement & honour to their country.⁹ I was very easy, as he never mentioned my own plan which I resolved by degrees to talk freely to him of. He asked me to come to his house in a family way, whenever I had nothing to engage me elsewhere. I resolved to comply with his kind invitation. I found a good table[,] ease & hospitality and usefull & agreable conversation there.

I thought my present lodgings too dear & therefore looked about & found a place in Crown-Street Westminster[,] an obscure street but pretty lodgings at only £22 a year. Much did I ruminate with regard to lodgings. Sometimes I considered that a fine lodging denoted a man of great fashion, but then I thought that few people would see it & therefore the expence would be hid, whereas my business was to make as much show as I could with my small allowance. I thought that an elegant place to come home to, was very agreable & would inspire me with ideas of my own dignity; but then I thought it would be hard if I had not a proportionable show in other things and that it was better to come gradualy to a fine place, than from a fine to a worse. I therefore resolved to take the Crown-Street place & told my present Landlord that I intended to leave him. He told me that he was very sorry and that he would allow me to make my own terms rather than quit his house: for he was in such circumstances that he was not obliged to let lodgings for bread and that as I was extremely agreable to the family he beg’d I would stay & he would let me have my three rooms for £30. I thanked him for his good opinion of me; but told him that œconomy at present was my object altho’ I was very happy in his house; and that I could not ask him to let me have three rooms in a genteel street, as cheap as two in an obscure one. He paused awhile and then told me that I should have them at the same price. He only beg’d that I would not mention it; as he certainly let them below value. I therefore struck a bargain & settled myself for a year. I do think this a very strong proof of my being agreable. For here was I a perfect Stranger to my Landlord who showed so great regard for me. I thought my seeking a lodging was like seeking a Wife. Sometimes I aimed at one of two Guineas a week, like a rich Lady of Quality. Sometimes at one Guinea like a Knight’s Daughter[,] and at last fixed on £22 a year like the Daughter of a good Gentleman of moderate fortune. Now when fixed, I felt very comfortable having got rid of the inconstant roving disposition of a batchelor as to Lodging. However I hope my choice of a Wife will be more elegant. I hope that shall not be in haste. When I strolled in high spirits thro’ London full of gay expectation, I considered how much happier I was, than if I had been married last year to Miss Colquhoun or Miss Bruce¹⁰ &been a poor regular animal tied down to one. I thanked Johnston¹¹ for his kind advices.

WEDNESDAY 1 DECEMBER

Try pen.¹ Dress then Gen Doug[las] then the Duke. be modest yet free. tell that you depend on him, & perhaps you will come from him joyfull. Then call Lord Adam & Gould.² *order dinner before you go out. — At 12 go call Temple & pay Sword.³ then home dine. then call Dempst[er]. Then go to Westminster⁴ in old coat — then home for long fertile journal & write C⁵ — lest he may think you neglect. Drury lane on frid[ay]⁶ dine home all week.

The Duke of Queensberry was now come to town. I had called once or twice, but had never found him. Mrs. Douglas told me that Old Quant the Porter⁷ would do nothing without the silver key. I therefore called today & chatting a little with the surly dog[,] Mr. Quant said I: I give you a great deal of trouble, bowed & smiled & put half a crown⁸ into his hand. He told me the Duke would be glad to see me next morning at nine. On Tuesday I wanted to have a silver hilted sword, but upon examining my pockets as I walked up the Strand I found that I had left the most of my guineas at home; & had not enough to pay for it with me. I determined to make a tryal of the civility of my fellow-creatures, & what effect my external appearance & address would have. I accordingly went to the Shop of Mr. Jefferies Sword-Cutler to his Majesty,⁹ looked at a number of his Swords and at last picked out a very handsom one, at five guineas. Mr. Jefferies said I — I have not money here to pay for it. Will you trust me? Upon my word, Sir said he; you must excuse me. It is a thing we never do to a Stranger. I bowed genteely & said Indeed Sir, I beleive it is not right. However I stood & looked at him; & he looked at me. Come Sir cried he I will trust you. Sir said I if you had not trusted me, I should not have bought it from you. He asked my name & place of abode which I told him. I then chose a Belt[,] put the Sword on & told him I would call & pay it tomorrow & walked off. I called this day & payed him. Mr. Jefferies[,] said I [,] there is your money. You paid me a very great compliment. I am much obliged to you. But pray dont do such a thing again. It is dangerous. Sir said he we know our men. I would have trusted you with the value of a hundred pounds. This I think was a good adventure & much to my honour. — Sometime after I came to London, I met with Mr. Maine¹⁰ from Scotland who reminded me that he had got me admitted a Member of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts & Sciences¹¹ in the year 1760, that the Subscription was two guineas a year & that three years were now unpaid so that I owed six guineas. This was a most alarming piece of news to a man who was trying to calculate a livelihood out of moderate finances. However I put the best face on it: told Maine that I imagined the neglect of payment for one year made a man lose his place so that I had but two guineas to pay. However if I found it otherwise I should pay the whole. This was realy my idea. I went & called on Mr. Box the Collector¹² (admirably named) [&] found him a very civil man; told him that I had been in Scotland allmost ever since my admission to the Society, and that I was now uncertain how long I might stay in London. If therefore it was possible to have my name struck off the list so that I should never be considered as having been a member, and might afterwards when sure of settling in London be admitted a member of that elegant[,] usefull & noble Society, it would make me very happy. I treated him with so much complaisance & put the Argument so home to him, that he agreed to my proposal; & I left him with a chearfull heart at the thoughts of having six guineas to spend which I had given up for lost.¹³ This affair was transacted on the evening after I dined at the Beef-steak Club. This afternoon I was surprised with the arrival of Lady Betty Macfarlane, Lady Ann Erskine[,] Captain Erskine & Miss Dempster¹⁴ who were come to the Red-Lyon Inn at Charing-Cross. It seems Lady Betty had written to the Laird that if he would not come down, she would come up; & upon his giving her an indolent answer, like a woman of spirit, she put her resolution in practice. I immediatly went to them. To tell the plain truth, I was vexed at their coming[,]¹⁵ for to see just the plain hamely¹⁶ fife family¹⁷ hurt my grand ideas of London. Besides I was now upon a plan of studying polite reserved behaviour which is the only way to keep up dignity of character. And as I have a good share of Pride which I think is very proper & even noble, I am hurt with the taunts of ridicule & am unsatisfied if I do not feel myself something of a superior animal. This has allways been my favourite idea, in my best moments. Indeed I have been obliged to deviate from it, by a variety of circumstances. After my wild expedition to London in the year 1760 after I got rid of the load of serious reflection which then burthened me, by being allways in Lord Eglintoune’s Company, very fond of him, & much caressed by him, I became dissipated & thoughtless. When my Father forced me down to Scotland, I was at first very low-spirited altho’ to appearance very high. I afterwards from my natural vivacity endeavoured to make myself easy; & like a man who takes to drinking to banish care, I threw myself loose as a heedless dissipated rattling fellow who might say or do every ridiculous thing. This made me sought after by every body for the present hour but I found myself a very inferior being: and I found many People presuming to treat me as such, which notwithstanding of my appearance of undiscerning gayety, gave me much pain. I was in short a character very different from what God intended me, and I myself chose. I remember my friend Johnston told me one day after my return from London, that I had turned out different from what he imagined, as he thought I would resemble Mr. Addison.¹⁸ I laughed & threw out some loud sallie of humour; but the observation struck deep. Indeed I must do myself the Justice to say that I allways resolved to be such a man whenever my affairs were made easy & I got upon my own footing. For as I despaired of that, I endeavoured to lower my views & just to be a good-humoured comical being[,] well liked either as a Waiter[,] a common Soldier, a Clerk in Jamaica or some other odd out-of-the-way sphere. Now when my Father at last put me into an independent situation I felt my mind regain it’s native dignity. I felt strong dispositions to be a Mr. Addison. [I]ndeed I had accustomed myself so much to laugh at every thing that it required time to render my imagination sollid, & give me just notions of real life, and of religion: But I hoped by degrees to attain to some degree of propriety. Mr. Addison’s character in Sentiment mixed with a little of the gayety of Sir Richard Steele,¹⁹ & the manners of Mr. Digges were the ideas which I aimed to realize. Indeed I must say that Digges has more or as much of the deportment of a man of fashion, as anybody I ever saw; and he keeps up this so well that he never once lessened upon me even on an intimate acquaintance; altho’ he is now & then somewhat melancholy, under which it is very difficult to preserve dignity; and this I think is particularly to be admired in Mr. Digges. Indeed he & I never came to familiarity which is justly said to beget contempt. The great art of living easy & happy in Society is to study proper behaviour, & even with our most intimate friends to observe politeness; otherwise we will insensibly treat each other with a degree of rudeness & each will find himself despised in some measure by the other. As I was therefore pursuing this laudable plan, I was vexed at the arrival of the Kellie family,²⁰ with whom when in Scotland I had been in the greatest familiarity; Had they not come for a twelvemonth I should have been somewhat established in my Address but as I had been but a forthnight from them, I could not without the appearance of strong affectation, appear much different from what they had seen me. I accordingly was very free, but rather more silent, which they imputed to my dullness & roasted me about London’s not being agreable to me. I bore it pretty well & left them. I then went to A Play of Terence’s (the Eunuch) performed by the King’s Scholars of Westminster School.²¹ There was a very numerous audience; not one of whom I knew except Churchill²² & him only by sight. Altho’ I seldom understood them yet I was entertained to see the Boys play & hear them speak latin with the english accent. When Dr. Markham the Master²³ came in, the Scholars gave a loud clap. My mind was filled with many ideas of London, which releived me from care.

THURSDAY 2 DECEMBER

Dress. The Duke’s immed — modest but free. be in earnest press home. Then Liecester Street.¹ keep the reins — Be chearfull yet moderate then call Dun & pay.² home at 3 — afternoon go to Temple — then home & make out journal & insert scenes omitted. Pay Coals Candles Butter. Agree quarter shoeblack. Call Mrs. Lewis.³ Send Lett[er] to Johnst[on] &c also to {Mothe}r.⁴ Be not put out of plan by Ersk[ine]. Be steady. Get thinner paper.

At nine oclock, I waited upon the Duke. He received me with the greatest politeness. He is a man of the greatest humanity & gentleness of manners, has good plain sense and is very chearfull notwithstanding of the severe shocks that he has met with.⁵ He told me that he found it very difficult to get me a Commission, but that he would try. I was rather more bashfull than I could have wished; altho’ there was nobody with him. But I thought it was better to say little at the first interview. I did not sit long. I then went & called on Colonel Gould who is married to a daughter of General Cochrane’s.⁶ I had never seen either him or his Lady. He was not up. So I went & waited on Mrs. Gould and breakfasted with her. I found her a genteel, affable Woman. The house was very handsom[,] the furniture elegant. She was happy to hear of my coming into the Guards, & beg’d that I would make their house my own. She asked me to dine there next day, that she might present me to Mr. Gould; and she said that he would do every thing to oblige me; and that it was of great advantage to a young man to have a good place where he can be easy at, & so shun bad Company. I came away in fine spirits at having got so agreable a home. I then went to Licester Street, where Lady Betty had a house taken. I pitied Macfarlane who is very narrow,⁷ & had now House & Footmen & Coach & dress & entertainment of all kinds to pay. Captain Erskine said that he was past pity; for that he only knew the value of money in trifles and he also said that to the length of five guineas the Laird might retain some degree of rationality, but when the sum exceeded that, he became perfectly delirious. What an absurd thing was it for this old clumsy dotard to marry a strong young woman of quality. It was certainly vanity, for which he has paid very heavily. Her marrying him was just to support herself & her sisters:⁸ and yet to a woman of delicacy, poverty is better than sacrificing her person to a greasy rotten nauseous carcase, & a narrow vulgar soul. Surely she who does that cannot properly be called a woman of virtue. She certainly wants⁹ feeling who can submit to the loathed embraces of a monster. She appears to me unclean: as I said to Miss Dempster, like a dirty table-cloth. I am sure no man can have the gentle passion of love for so defiled a Person as her’s—O—my stomach rises at it.¹⁰

FRIDAY 3 DECEMBER

Break[fast] home in half dress¹ — then give Dun coat to have made neat. then Dempster. Then Eglint[oune] — consult cloaths & Ruffles.² Then Licester: Home at 2. Dress — then walk Gould thro Green Park.³ Be easy & establish an intimacy. Send to Duke by Chairman.⁴ Get silver⁵ for Gould’s Servt. Dine Eglint[oune] Sat[urday] — After Gould home then Liecester, or Mrs. Lewis whichever is most agreable. Think on Tuesday as the day when life dawns.⁶ Be in fine health to look well. Never sit up after 12 all the Winter. Get pair shoes from Warehouse.

I began now to be much at home in my lodgings; & to get into a regular method. I resolved to want a servant for my first year, & in every respect to be frugal that I might learn the value of money, see what I could afford to do with my allowance, & rather live within than exceed my income. I am realy surprised at the coolness & moderation with which I am proceeding. God grant I may continue to do well which will make me happy and all my friends satisfied. I have all along been speaking in the perfect tense, as if I was writing the history of some distant period. I shall after this use the present often, as most proper: indeed I will not confine myself; but take whichever is most agreable at the time. I never had a fire in my bed room, but one in my parlour in the morning, & one in my dining-room in the evening. I had my own tea and Sugar, & got in bread & butter & milk, as I wanted it. In short I regulate every thing in the most prudent way. At the end of the year, I shall subjoin a succinct account of my Expences. Sure no Minister of State could talk with more formality. I had called once or twice, and left my name at Northumberland House: But hearing nothing from it, I began to think that they neglected me. However I now received a card of Invitation to the rout⁷ on Tuesday the 7. This raised my spirits, gave me notions of my consequence, & filled me with grandeur. Fain would I have got rich laced cloaths; but I commanded my inclination, & got just a plain suit of a pink colour, with a gold button. This day I dined at Colonel Gould’s. I found him a sensible genteel, obliging little man. Every thing was in the best taste: quite ease & fashion. He was very kind to me; talked particularly of my commission, & gave me every hint that he could towards it’s succeeding. I realy liked the man much. I thought to myself how curious it was, that the master of this fine house, who lives in such warmth & splendour might be called out to endure all the hardships of hunger & cold & confusion, & perhaps suffer the severest wounds or most violent death. It made all these things seem pretty easy to me; as I found they did not affect his happiness upon the whole. He has a little daughter of seven year old; Miss Fannie; whom he is very fond of. She is an extraordinary child, very sagacious & very lively.⁸ The english Children come very early to be rational, conversible beings. He has also a fine boy to his son,⁹ at Harrow School. Mrs. Gould has never had any children, but has a great affection for her husband’s which I admire much. Gould told me that as I was a single man, he hoped to see me very often at their family dinner as they were allmost allways at home. We then had coffee & afterwards tea. It was just a guard party. The Colonel & his Lady, Mrs. Winyard who has a son a Colonel,¹⁰ Miss Gwynne who has a Brother a Colonel,¹¹ & I who hope first to be an Ensign & afterwards a Colonel. We were pretty merry. At nine I went to Lord Eglintoune’s but returned to Gould’s at ten, as he insisted upon it, having invited Sir Alexander Gilmour of the first Regiment,¹² to meet me; but he did not come. We had a nice light bit of supper, and were very happy. The Colonel talked of battles & dreadfull wounds, which made us shudder. Realy these things are not to be talked of; for in cool blood they shock one prodigiously. He was on the expedition to St. Cas;¹³ but escaped unhurt. He told me that his spirits kept up very well; but that sometimes he was in such a humour that fighting would have been very dissagreable to him. Here he spoke like a man of candour & a man of feeling. For the human mind even in the bravest is very variable.

SATURDAY 4 DECEMBER

Break[fast] first at home — then in Bath & old grey & Stick sally to City.¹ Send off North Brits to Digges.² Get the one of the day. Go to Child’s take dish coffee read Auditer Monitor Briton.³ Then come to Douglasse’s & enquire about parade.⁴ Then Licester dine. Be comfortable yet genteel: and please your friend Capt. Ersk[ine]. drink tea. then home quiet & wind up the week’s journal in grey & slippers. Be allways in bed before 12 — never sup out Break[fast] R Mcghye Sunday & take franks.⁵

I breakfasted with Dempster. He accompanied me into the City. He parted from me at St. Paul’s⁶ & I went to Child’s where there was not much said. I dined & drank tea with Lady Betty Macfarlane. We were but cold & dull. The Laird was low & dissagreable. I resolved to dine there, no more; at least very very seldom. At night, Erskine & I stroled thro’ the streets & St. James’s Park. We were accosted there, by several Ladies of the town.⁷ Erskine was very humourous, & said some very wild things to them. There was one in a red cloak of a good buxom person & comely face whom I marked as a future peice, in case of exigency.

SUNDAY 5 DECEMBER

Dress — then walk in park then take franks & break[fast] R. Mcghye. Bid him keep the Duke in mind. Preserve retenué yet ease. then St. George’s Church¹ Then home finish journ so as to make out week clear. After dinner at home read Review² then journ — & at 7 Dempster’s — preserve as you have begun. Come off at 11 & home not to keep the maid up & as it is best for health to be in bed before 12. Monday break[fast] home. After Duke try tuesday if no scheme.³ Mrs. Phillips in park Wednesday.⁴

I breakfasted with Ross Mckye where I found the Duke of Queensberry, but did not mention a word of my commission. I then went to St. George’s Church where I heard a good sermon on the Prophets testifying of Jesus Christ.⁵ I was upon honour much disposed to be a Christian. Yet I was rather cold in my devotion. The Dutchess of Grafton⁶ attracted my eyes rather too much. In the evening I went to Douglasse’s where I found a letter from my friend Johnston⁷ which gave me much satisfaction, brought many comfortable ideas into my mind & put me on a regular plan of sending him my Journal. I then went to Dempster’s where I met with the Kelly family. I let myself out in humourous rhodomontade, rather too much. We were very hearty. We disputed much whether London or Edinburgh was the most agreable to a Scotch Gentleman of small fortune. Lady Betty said that it must be very cutting to find so many People higher than one’s self, & to see so many splendid Equipages,⁸ none of which belong to one. Lady Betty[,] said I, you have the pleasure of admiring them. But your taste is too gross[;] you want to have the sollid equipages themselves, to embrace & carry in your arms the thick tarry wheels. In reality a Person of small fortune who has only the common views of life, & would just be as well as any body else[,] cannot like London. But a Person of imagination & feeling such as the Spectator finely describes, can have the most lively enjoyment from the sight of external objects without regard to property at all.⁹ London is undoubtedly a Place where Men & Manners may be seen to the greatest advantage. The liberty & the whim that reigns there occasions a variety of perfect & curious characters. Then the immense crowd & hurry and bustle of business & diversion, the great number of public places of entertainment, the noble churches and the superb buildings of different kinds agitate[,] amuse & elevate the mind. Besides[,] the satisfaction of pursuing whatever plan is most agreable, without being known or look’d at, is very great. Here a young man of curiosity & observation may have a sufficient fund of present entertainment, & may lay up ideas to employ his mind in age. Dempster[,] talking of Irene¹⁰ a tragedy written by Mr. Samuel Johnson[,] said it was as frigid as the regions of Nova Zembla;¹¹ that now & then you felt a little heat like what is produced by touching Ice.

MONDAY 6 DECEMBER

Dress then break[fast] home. then Duke’s & push home. Then Marche’s¹ — then Gould’s & learn genteel & easy elegant manners: So as to be proof against fife vulgarity — then call Lord Elibank then go Licester: Seek out handsom coach — then dine home & resolve never dine fife, but once a week. Contrive to shun it gradually[.] Pay last week. Mark razor brush & box. Write Johnst[on] kind & send first division of Journ.² be determined — beware of bad habits — be reserv’d, stand only their laugh.³ Keep one Stock clean⁴

I waited on General Douglas, who told me that the Duke told him that he thought it would not be in his power to get me a Commission. This was a discouraging piece of Information. I left him in bad humour, cursed a state of waiting for any thing from great men, & in short despaired a good deal of getting it. I called for Lord March, who promised to keep the Duke in mind of it. I then went to Gould’s who kept up my spirits. At one I went to the Duke’s, & being in a kind of despair I talked freely & boldly to him. He was gently informing me that the thing was very difficult. To show him that this did not affect me, My Lord said I, it is as difficult as can be imagined, yet I should think your Grace’s interest might do it (— I should have mentioned that I wrote a letter to him,⁵ some days ago very fully —) My Lord said I now, & looked him in the face, a state of suspence & hanging on, is a most disagreable thing. I have heard People talk of it, & I have read in the Poets of it; but now I feel it. I have got an independent spirit and I can assure your grace, that if I had not a good opinion of you as a Man, upon my soul I would not ask such a thing of you. It just comes to this[:] if your Grace is so generous as to make a push for me (which indeed I can scarcely ask) I beleive the thing may do. I could see that the good old Man was pleased with my spirit. He told me that he would do what he could with Lord Ligonier.⁶ I then asked him about Mr. Gay.⁷ He said he was a modest quiet man; but when with people that he knew, was very entertaining. I told him that from reading Mr. Gay’s writings, I had taken an affection to his Grace’s family, from my earliest years. I then resumed my own affair[,] spoke a little, & took leave of him. I drank tea at Macfarlane’s: There was a most dissagreable set of women there. It was just one of the worst Edinburgh tea-drinking afternoons. Erskine & I sat out by ourselves & laughed immoderately just like two School-boys. He went with me to Dempster’s where we sat a good while.

TUESDAY 7 DECEMBER

Dress then break[fast] — then Journ till 11 then Eglint[oune]’s & Music then home dinner — then Journ till 7 then dress & Rout; call out Eglint[oune] there.¹ Resolve preserve retenue & as you began. Dont see one of them² today it is very vulgar. Be absent some days; & then you can be more on guard — speak little & stand laugh. Hope for Commiss[ion] — if not, content. This night wait for some Wom Qualit.³

In the morning, I went to Lord Eglintoune’s where was a Breakfast[,] a Concert,⁴ & a most elegant Company. The Prince of Mecklenburgh, Duke of Kingston, Duke of Portland, Duke & Dutchess of Ancaster, Dutchess of Hamilton[,] Lord Lorne[,] Lord March, Lord Litchfield Chancellor of the University of Oxford[,] Lord & Lady Garlies, Lady Margaret Macdonald, Mr. Harris author of the Essays on Poetry music & happiness⁵ & a great many more. It was realy a fine thing. Since ever I came up I have resolved to preserve my own dignity, & pay court to Nobody, & rather have no communication with people, than in any degree, cringe to them. This morning I could observe Sir James Macdonald waiting till I should make up to him, which I did not do, but sat down by myself. He came & sat down beside me & we chatted very well. I said I should wish to pass an hour or two with him. He said he would come & see me. This interview was very pleasing to me. In the evening I went to Northumberland House, to the rout, which was indeed magnificent. Three large rooms and the Gallery[,]⁶ a prodigious one[,] were full of the best company[,] between 3 & 400 of them. The Gallery is like one of the rooms in Holyroodhouse for size & richly adorned on the walls and Cieling with Landschapes and gilding. The King & Lady Northumberland are exhibited in full length Portraits, in their robes.⁷ As I was standing in pleasing reverie in the Gallery musing on the splendid scene arround me, & joining with that the ancient ideas of the family of Piercy, My Lady came up to me with the greatest complacency & kindness: Mr. Boswell, I am very happy to see you. How do you do? I hope you are come to settle among us. I was very sorry that I was not at home when you called. I gave positive orders that you should be admitted whenever you called. This put me into the finest humour. I thanked her sincerely. I chatted easily. She then carried me to My Lord⁸ who was very glad to see me, & very civil to me. This is indeed a noble family in every Respect. They live in a most princely manner perfectly suitable to their high rank. Yet they are easy & affable. They keep up the true figure of old english Nobility. I felt a little aukward this night, as I scarcely knew any body in the room. I told My Lady so. She said that would go off by degrees. I could observe People looking at me with envy, as a man of some distinction & a favourite of My Lady’s. Bravo thought I. I am sure I deserve to be a favourite. It was curious to find of how little consequence each individual was in such a crowd. I could imagine how an officer in a great army may be killed without being observed. I came home quiet, laid by my cloaths & went cooly to bed. There’s conduct for you.

WEDNESDAY 8 DECEMBER

Dress then break[fast] home. Then Journ hard for one day till dinner. dine home resolute for one week. After dinner if journ not done finish & drink tea home. But be sure not fife for a day or two. & be denied¹ to every body. Wait till Thursd[ay] — to go both Duke & Northumb. Buy brushes. Go today to Green Cannister & get {cundum} — then Park fine &c.

I sat in writing till one. I then stroled thro’ the Streets. I was somewhat dull & thought myself a poor sort of a being. At night I went to Covent-Garden & saw Love in a Village² a new comic opera, for the first night. I liked it much. I saw it from the Gallery, but I was first in the Pit.³ Just before the Ouverture began to be played two highland officers came in. The mob in the upper gallery roared out No Scots. No Scots. Out with them, hist & pelted them with Apples. My heart warmed to my countrymen[,] my Scotch blood boiled with indignation. I jumpt up on the benches, roared out damn you you Rascals, hist & was in the greatest rage. I am very sure at that time, I should have been the most distinguished of Heroes. I hated the English, I wished from my Soul that the Union was broke & that we might give them another battle of Bannockburn.⁴ I went close to the officers, & asked them of what Regiment. They were of;⁵ They told me Lord John Murray’s & that they were just come from the Havannah.⁶ And this said they is the thanks that we get, to be hist when we come home. If it was french what could they do worse. But said one if I had a grup o yin or twa o the tamd rascals I sud let them ken what they’re about.⁷ The rudeness of the English vulgar⁸ is terrible. This indeed is the liberty which they have: the liberty of bullying & being abusive with their blackguard tongues. They soon gave over. I then went to the Gallery & was realy well entertained with the Opera.

THURSDAY 9 DECEMBER

As this is the great day of business¹ you can see nobody therefore, break[fast] home & then have such another brush at Journ. as you had yesterday. Send M’s letter² tonight. Also Love in a Village to C— tonight.³ Call afternoon for fife — Buy finer sugar & order Muffins for Sir James on friday. See Gould soon. This day at 1 Go to Mrs. Lewis try what you can do. Continue to see Mrs. Ward.⁴ At night Park & your Red cloak’d Dulcinea.⁵

I called on Erskine & related to him the history of the Opera. I was in an immoderate flow of spirits & raged away. We then sauntered thro’ the streets. He gave me a very sensible advice against repeating what People said, which may do much harm. I have an unlucky custom of doing so. I acknowledged my error, & promised to be on my guard. In the afternoon I drank tea at Macfarlane’s. The Ladies had now got every thing in good order, & were pretty fond of London. I liked them better. This was the great day of debate in the Houses of Parliament, on the Peace.⁶ But I could not get in. However I was curious to hear how things were carried on. I went to Dempster’s⁷ at 12 to wait till he should come in. I staid till 3 without him, & came home cold & sleepy & wearied with waiting.

FRIDAY 10 DECEMBER

I went to Northumberland-house in the forenoon. The Porter told me there was nobody at home; but looking at me, Sir, said he, is your name Boswell? upon my answering yes[,] My Lady is at home Sir said he. Upon which I was shown up to her Ladyship with whom I sat about 20 minutes, in the most easy, agreable way. She told me that she had a private party every friday for particular friends; and that she would allways be glad to see me there, when I had nothing else to do. I exulted & thanked her, & said that I could not think how I deserved all this, but that I hoped we should be better acquainted, & that I should run about the house like a tame spaniel. An old Gentleman then came in. I sat a little longer and then withdrew full of joy at being reckoned a particular friend of the heir of the great Piercy,¹ & a Woman of the first consequence in London. She mentioned my Commission & kindly desired me not to be impatient, & I would get it. If the Duke does not do it for me, She will be my next resource. But it is better to have but one Patron at a time, & stick closs² to him. At night I went back to Northumberland-House, about seven. We had tea & chatted for a while till the Company[,] about 20 picked people[,] gathered. They then sat down to the card-tables. But I told My Lady that I never played,³ which she found no fault with. A few did not play besides. However I felt not so easy as those who did, & began to tire. I stayed there till eleven, & then came home.

SATURDAY 11 DECEMBER

Dress — then Duke — be explicite — then break[fast] Dempst[er] — then Jermyn Street¹ & be moderate &c then City[,] Childs & sollid Citizens. then Erskine & settle play.² & dont be at any more but first nights. Then Davies & get paper & say youll never have more for his neglect.³ At night Journ & on Sunday Journ all forenoon dine 2 church 3. Leave notice dine home

I breakfasted with Macpherson the Translator of Fingal.⁴ A man of great genius and an honest Scotch Highlander.⁵ It did my heart good to hear the spirit with which he talked. The Highlanders said he are hospitable & love Society. They are very hardy & can endure the inconveniences of life very well. Yet they are very fond of London when they get to it, & indulge as much in it’s pleasures as any body. Let me said he have something in perfection; either the noble rudeness of barbarous manners, or the highest relish of polished Society. There is no Medium. In a little town you have the advantage of neither. He told me that he was very susceptible of tormenting love. But that London was the best place in the world to cure it. In the country, said he, we see a beautifull Woman; we conceive an idea that it would be heaven to be in her arms. We think that impossible allmost for us to attain. We sigh. We are dejected. Whereas here we behold as fine women as ever were created: Are we fond of one of them? for a guinea we get the full enjoyment of her, and when that is over we find that it is not so amazing a matter as we fancied. Indeed, after a moderate share of the pleasures of London, a Man has much better chance to make a rational unprejudiced marriage. Macpherson said he had strong & nice⁶ feelings; & therefore was easily made happy or miserable. But then said he, nothing will make me either happy or the reverse above a day. It is hard said he that we tire of every thing.

I then took Dempster with me to the City, and to Child’s. He did not enter into the spirit of it, & went away soon. It is quite a place to my mind; dusky comfortable & warm with a Society of Citizens & Physicians who talk politics very fully & are very sagacious & sometimes jocular. What is the reason said one that a soal is not a good fish? Why it is a good fish said another if you dress it with a plain butter sauce: But you must have something so dev’lish high-seasoned: You might as well have a sauce of fire & Brimstone. I shall hereafter for the sake of neatness throw our Conversation into my Journal, in the form of a Dialogue: So that every Saturday, this my Journal shall be adorned with A Dialogue at Child’s.

1st. Cit: Pray now what do you realy think of this Peace?

2d Cit: That it is a damned bad one to be sure.

Physic: Damn’d bad one! Pray what would you be at? Have not you had all that you wanted. Did you not begin the war to settle your boundaries in North America; & have not you got that done, as Mr. Pitt the great Champion of the opposition acknowledged in the house, better than could have been expected.⁷ Have not you got a large tract of country ceded to you? Is not the line of division plain & straight.

Boswell. Suppose Sir I went out a hunting with intention to bring home a hare to dinner, & catch three hares, don’t you think that I may also bring home the other two. Now Sir I grant you that we began the War with intention only to settle our boundaries in America, & would have been satisfied with that and nothing more. But Sir we have had uncommon Success. We have not only got what we intended; but we have also picked up some other little things, such as the Havannah[,] Guadaloupe &c. I should be glad to know why we are to part with them?

Physic. Because the French will not make peace except we do so. And we cannot carry on the war another year.

1st. Cit: But we can.

Physic. From whence have you the money? who will furnish that?

1st. Cit: The City of London.⁸

Physic: Where will you get the men?

Boswell. I own to you that is a difficulty.

Physic: Lord Sir. We could not raise men for another Campaign. Consider how the Country has been drained. Ay, ay, it is easy for a merchant in London to sit by his warm fire & talk of our army abroad. They imagine we have got a hundred thousand stout soldiers ready to march up against the Ennemy. Little do they know what the Severities they have suffered, produce. Indeed we have a very thin army: And those that remain, what are they? why like Jack Falstaff’s Scare-crows.⁹ No, no, no more war, let us not sink ourselves so many more millions in debt, and let our Contractors, like Dundass,¹⁰ bring home a couple of hundred thousand pounds. We are now making a very good peace; let us be content.

3 Cit: I do think it is better that any body should bring home our money, than leave it in Germany. I wish we could hear of more of it brought home. — I don’t think this at all bad. My simile of the Hares (my metaphor rather) is pretty well. They might have answered me[:] Suppose a man went out to shoot a hare for dinner, & not only shot that, but a brace of Partridges. The Lord of the Mannor sees him and is offended at him, & wants to take them all from him; Dont you think he is very well off if he gives the Lord the Partridges & trudges peacably home, with his hare on his shoulders which is all that he wanted. The Spectator mentions his being seen at Child’s,¹¹ which makes me have an affection for it. I think myself like him, & am serenely happy there. There is something to me very agreable in having my time laid out in some method. Such as every Saturday going to Child’s. I also the same morning call at the Pamphlet-Shop going into the Temple Exchange Coffeehouse in fleet-street, and buy the North-Britton which I send at night by commission, in a frank to Digges. He is very gratefull to me. He says it makes a great feast in his family circle & when they have read it, they drink a bumper to the health of Mr. Boswell. He calls himself my poor corespondent as he cannot make me a return for the valuable commodities of my letters. ‘Conversation’ says he, ‘is the traffic of the mind: for by exchanging ideas, we enrich one another’.¹² Poor Digges! I realy like him. He has been unlucky & has done many inexcusable things.¹³ But he is a pretty man;¹⁴ & has most amiable dispositions. Had he not been reduced, but had a plentifull fortune[,] he would have been a noble fellow greatly admired.

I drank coffee at Macfarlane’s. Erskine & he got into a dispute about the peace & each told his antagonist that he was speaking arrant nonsence. They were seriously hot. I was much diverted at Captain Andrew’s being so, who does not enter the least into common notions, & does not care a farthing whether there be peace or war or confusion in Europe; provided he & his own agreable circle be safe & happy. I must own that I am much of that way of thinking. I cannot help it. I see too far into the system of things, to be much in earnest. I consider Mankind in general, & therefore cannot take a part in their quarrels when divided into particular states & nations. I can see that after a war is over and a great quantity of cold & hunger & want of Sleep and torment endured by mortals, things are upon the whole, just as they were. I can see that Great People, those who manage the fates of Kingdoms are just such beings as myself: Have their hours of discontent & are not a bit happier. This being the case I am rather passive than active in life; it is difficult to make my feeling clearly understood. I may say, I act passively. That is[,] not with my whole heart & thinking this or that of real consequence; but because so & so things are established & I must submit. Meditating calmly & finding myself situated in this sublunary system, I do not know well what to make of it. I do not rightly understand it — Guardian Angel — Stop. [H]ow should you. God has formed men with very limited capacities. True. [B]ut still I cannot help enquiring & thinking, and viewing things in certain lights. Certain shades you should rather say, would be the reply of a man keenly bent on the pursuits of life. The truth is with regard to me, About the age of 17 I had a very severe illness, I became very melancholy.¹⁵ I imagined that I was never to get rid of it. I gave myself up as devoted to Misery. I entertained a most gloomy & odd way of thinking. I was much hurt at being good for nothing in life. The particular events of my romantic life since then, my friends well know. My lively fancy allways remained. Many a struggle was in my mind between melancholy & mirth. I grew better & freer of my disorder. But I could not bear the law. Indeed I had been so long accustomed to consider myself as out of the world, that I could not think of engaging in real life. At last the Guards pleased me. I was opposed in this scheme. This made me fonder of it. I also was an Enthusiast with regard to being in London. The charms of Poetry also enchanted me. I became acquainted with Captain Erskine which kept this turn alive.¹⁶ To get away from home where I lived as a Boy, was my great Object. It was irksom beyond measure to be a young Laird in the house of a father much different from me, of a mind perfectly sound, & who thought that if I was not a Man of business I was good for nothing. My worthy freind Johnston allways comforted me; Pointed out agreable plans for me, and made me hope to be happy. Mr. Mcquhae¹⁷ also did me much service. He is a Man of good parts, great & accurate knowledge, easiness of manners & goodness of heart. I regard him much. I used to have a Degree of horror at the thoughts of the misery endured in War. Erskine releived me from this. He goes upon system: which is just to keep himself as easy & happy as he can, & to make the best of every thing. He does not suffer so much as others from his indifference and just yeilding to the blasts of Adversity. Thus he gets up in the morning & just tries to be as easy & happy as he can, till night. Sometimes he feels elevation of spirit by lively company, or by reading a good Poem, but he is rather still, & like standing water a little apt to be muddy & sowr. The only fault that he has, as a Companion, is now & then a little ill-temper. If he were ordered abroad, he would just draw his legs after him & endeavour to get as good victuals which by the by is his great source of satisfaction & keep himself as warm & sleep as snugly as he could. Being with Erskine gives me a simplicity of Sentiment, & makes me very easy as to what Men in general make such a work about. I was mentioning Erskine’s character to Sir James Macdonald[,] a young man who has made a great figure at Eaton School & the University of Oxford, & is studying hard to fit himself for parliament, being full of notions of the consequence of real life and making a figure in the world and all that. When he heard Erskine’s sentiments which by the by are much my own, and which I mentioned just to see what he would say — He was perfectly stunned. Why said he — he must not be a man. He is unfit to live in human society. He is not of the Species. I was realy entertained. Ah! thought I, little do you know of how small duration the pleasure is of making one of these great figures, that now swell before your ambitious Imagination. Yet I do think it is a happiness to have an object in view which one keenly follows. It gives a lively agitation to the mind which is very pleasurable. I am determined to have a degree of Erskine’s indifference, to make me easy when things go cross; and a degree of Macdonald’s eagerness for real life, to make me relish things when they go well. It is in vain to sit down & say what good does it do, to have a Regiment? Is a General more happy than an Ensign? No. But a Man who has had his desire gratified of rising by degrees to that rank in the army, has enjoyed more happiness, than one who has never risen at all. The great art I have to study is to ballance these two very different ways of thinking properly. It is very difficult to be keen about a thing which in reality You do not regard & consider as imaginary. But I fancy it may do, as a Man is affraid of Ghosts in the dark, altho’ he is sure there are none; Or pleased with beautifull exhibitions on the Stage, altho’ he knows they are not real. Altho’ the Judgment may know that all is vanity,¹⁸ yet Passion may ardently pursue. Judgment & Passion are very different. With these notions I am pushing to get into the Guards, where to distinguish myself as a good Officer & to get Promotion will be my favourite objects. If that does not succeed[,] I am at least living happily, I am seeing the world, studying men & manners, & fitting myself for a pleasing quiet life in old age, by laying up agreable ideas to feast upon in recollection. Thus shall I perhaps enjoy a serene felicity at the delightfull Auchinleck, the ancient seat of a long line of worthy ancestors.¹⁹ Here will I end my days in calm devotion. If I shall be cut off before that time[,] I am satisfied. God is good; He will take care of me. O happy situation of mind which I now have. All things look well. I hope I shall be very happy. Let my mind be never so much distempered I have devotion towards God, & benevolence towards Mankind. I have an honest mind and a warm freindship. Upon my Soul, not a bad specimen of a Man. However my particular notions may alter I allways preserve these great & worthy qualities.

Erskine & I went to Covent-Garden & saw Love in a Village: We were well entertained. We got into a dispute, & said several very clever things. Sir said I when you & I get into a dispute we give a smart rap against each other like two flints and out fly sparks of fire: But Macfarlane & you come together like two thick quilted chair bottoms & out comes a thick cloud of dust. I went back with him to Macfarlane’s. The Ladies were in great dress; were getting into fashion & looked like the best idea of the Ladies of Kelly[,] Daughters of a Scotch Earl, Descendants of the family of Marr.²⁰ I did not think them vulgar, but inwardly rejoyced at being in so freindly a way with them. However, after supper we had some altercation about standards of taste, & they grew hot & showed a strong example of the Edinburgh Women’s roughness of manners, which disgusted me. They have all a too great violence in dispute; & are sometimes put quite out of humour by it. I brought them to be pretty well again; & then went to Dempster’s where I was very well received. He & his Sister Miss Jeanie have a great deal of gentleness of manners as well as cleverness. I sat till near one which as it was a transgression of my regular plan, gave me pain.

This day makes a very good figure in my journal. It has been lucky; as I am happy.

SUNDAY 12 DECEMBER

I took a whim of dining at home every day, last week, which I kept exactly to. The pleasure of gratifying whim is very great. It is known only by those who are whimsical. This day I was in a pleasing indolent humour. I sat at home, writing till three, and then (as I am resolved to be at divine service every Sunday) I then went and heard prayers in St. Margaret’s church Westminster.¹ I dined at home very comfortably. I realy am very well situated in Lodgings. My Landlord is a jolly civil man. His wife a quiet well-behaved woman: and his sister a neat-handed clever Girl. They do every thing to serve me. Mr. Terrie is in a public office, so that he supplies me with Paper and all materials for writing in great abundance, for nothing. Mrs. Terrie gets all things that I want, bought for me and Miss sews the laced ruffles on my Shirts, and does any thing of that kind. They have allways a good plain dinner. I have the art to be easy & chatty & yet maintain a proper distance; In short I live very comfortably. I order any little alterations that I wish. For instance, there was no communication between my dining-room & Bed-chamber. I ordered a door to be struck out; which was instantly done. I ordered some large breakfast cups & a Carpet to my Bedchamber & a Bureau² to my dining-room. It is inconceivable with what attention & spirit I manage all my concerns. I sat in all this evening calm & indulgent. I had a fire in both my rooms above stairs. I drank tea by myself for a long time. I had my feet washed with milk-warm water.³ I had my bed warmed & went to sleep soft & contented.

MONDAY 13 DECEMBER

Dress — coat brush’d Then Sr. James & Macphers[on] at Break[fast]. Keep up & be learned & genteel[.] When they go, fall to Journ — then Douglasse’s then C[ovent] Gard[en] & Mrs. Lewis — then dine Sher[idan] & if not in Beefsteaks¹ — Dont see one of the family² till Elvira³ is advertiz’d[.] Then go to Pitt critical & recommend story.⁴ Talk ser[iously] with Ersk[ine] about bad temper in argument. Go to Bell’s as Mr. Gray soon⁵ — & be prudent[.] Keep fixed to sober plan & retenue. Go to Terris & ask for new apt[.]⁶ poor fellow dont forget him.⁷

I waited upon the Duke whom I found rather in better humour about my Commission: As Mr. Townsend had resigned,⁸ who was his great opposer. My Lord, said I, Commissions are certainly got by interest; & I know nobody who has better interest than your grace. He told me he had not seen Lord Ligonier, altho’ he had called on him, twice; but he promised to see him, & also to make application soon to the new Secretary at war,⁹ which he agreed with me, might do good. I told his Grace that I would not relinquish the pursuit, but wait for my Commission if it should be two years. My youthfull impatience was a little unsatisfied with the calm diffident speech of the Duke; which however is in truth infinitely better than talking much, & making me beleive much more than is true. This forenoon Mr. Sheridan was with me. I told him that I had great difficulty to get to London. And how could it be otherwise said he when you pushed the plan most opposite to your Father’s inclinations. This immediatly led us to talk fully on his scheme of the Temple, which I told him my Father dissaproved of as my going to London at all, was the thing that he could not think of. I told him that I could not study law, & being of a profession where you do no good, is to a man of spirit, very dissagreable. That I was determined to be in London. That I wanted to be something; and that the guards was the only scene of real life that I ever liked. I feel a surprising change to the better, on myself, since I came to London. I am an independent Man. I think myself as good as any body; and I act entirely on my own principles. Formerly I was directed by others, I took every man’s advice, that I regarded[.] I was fond to have it. I asked it. I told all my story freely. But now, I keep my own counsel, I follow the dictates of my own good sense, than which I can see no better monitor, & I proceed consistently & resolutely. I now spoke to Sheridan with a manly firmness and a conscious assurance that I was in the right. He said that Application, by which he meant Business[,] was necessary to keep a young man from being hurried down the Stream. I swelled with satisfaction at the thoughts of showing him how well I should conduct myself as an Officer of the Guards. Sir James Macdonald then came in to wait upon me for the first time. I liked to see him & Sheridan together. They fell a talking on Tragedy. Sheridan said he thought there was no occasion for our modern tragedies to be in Verse. That indeed it was necessary among the Ancients, as they were then set to Music; but amongst us we do not require that[,] and indeed the Actor studiously disguises the measure¹⁰ in reciting & therefore why labour so much in vain? Sir James said that for domestic distress prose might do; but for Kings & Heroes an elevation of language is necessary. I don’t know says Sheridan if we may not have that in prose. Mr. Macpherson in his Translation of Fingal has shown us what dignity the English language is capable of. In his usual way, he abused Garrick in Tragedy: & said that he mimic’d parts of all the good actors, but none entirely, & so appeared original. He said the taste of the age was terrible. That they would run to see an Actor, (being his first appearance,) eagerly. Now said he, it would be laughed at to advertise a Solo to be performed by such a man, being his first time of playing on the fiddle, or a portrait to be sold by such a man, being his first attempt in painting: And yet the mechanical part of acting is at least as difficult as that of any of these two arts. If said he I was manager of a Theatre, nobody should be allowed to come on under seven years of Apprenticeship and being regularly taught. He told us that he wanted Mrs. Sheridan to write a Prose Tragedy.¹¹ After they left me, I went to Gould’s. The Colonel had been debauching¹² the night before, & was in bed; but Mrs. Gould insisted that I should eat a family dinner with her & the Children which I did very happily. Miss Fannie & I are now very good freinds. I am sure said she Sir, if I like any man, I like you. She sat on the same chair with me, after dinner, & sung & read very prettily. About six, Mr. Gould came down to us. I gave him a genteel lecture on the advantage of temperance, and made him acknowledge that the pain of rioting much exceeded the pleasure. He was heavy; But I was lightsom and entertaining, & releived him. I drank tea & sat the Evening gay & happy just in the way I could wish.

TUESDAY 14 DECEMBER

Dress — then Duke — push Secretary at War — be explicite. Get letter to Lord Ligonier. Joke about getting Corporal, or going in Volunteer¹ — Then home. break[fast]. then Journ. or if not humour Northumb. House² — & push affairs, say you are humble Servant. Ask any commands. Even hint {passion}[.]³ then Jermyn Street & be very cautious.⁴ Then Mrs. Lewis then home & have Packet ready to send to Johnst[on] at night. Go to Pring[le] & see about £11 of Journey Expences.⁵ Dine home —

Resolve by all means to keep up to Plan, & run no risque of Disease. As it is not worth the high price[.] See Sheridan on Wednesday — & talk over your scheme with him: & make it as plain as possible. Have a pride to do well. Get Erskine & study Scots Law.⁶ Write Journ with very great care & take time to it & never be hurried.

It is very curious to think that I have now been in London, several weeks without ever enjoying the delightfull Sex: Altho’ I am surrounded with numbers of free-hearted Ladies of all kinds. From the splendid Madam at fifty guineas a night, down to the civil Nymph with white-thread stockings, who tramps along the Strand, and will resign her engaging person to your honour for a pint of wine and a shilling. Manifold are the reasons for this my present wonderfull continence. I am upon a plan of œconomy and therefore cannot be at the expence of first-rate dames. I have suffered severely from the loathsom distemper & therefore shudder at the thoughts of running any risque of having it again. Besides, the Surgeon’s fees in this City come very high. But the greatest reason of all is, that fortune or rather benignant Venus⁷ has smiled upon me and favoured me so far, that I have had the most delicious Intrigues with women of Beauty[,] sentiment & spirit, perfectly suited to my romantic Genius. Indeed in my mind, There cannot be higher felicity on earth enjoyed by man than the participation of genuine reciprocal amorous affection with an amiable Woman. There he has a full indulgence of all the delicate feelings & pleasures both of Body & mind; while at the same time in this enchanting union, he exults with a consciousness that he is the superior Person. The Dignity of his sex is kept up. These paradisial scenes of gallantry have exalted my ideas & refined my taste, so that I realy cannot think of stooping so far as to make a most intimate companion of a groveling-minded, ill-bred worthless creature; nor can my delicacy be pleased with the gross voluptousness of the Stews.⁸ I am therefore walking about with a healthfull stout Body, and a chearfull mind, in search of a Woman worthy of my love, and who thinks me worthy of her’s, without any interested⁹ views; which is the only sure way to find out if a woman realy loves a man. If I should be a single man for the whole winter, I will be satisfied. I have had as much elegant pleasure, as I could have expected would have come to my share, in many years. However I hope to be more successfull. In this view, I had now called several times for a handsom Actress of Covent-Garden Theatre, whom I was a little acquainted with, and whom I shall distinguish in this my Journal by the name of Louisa.¹⁰ This Lady had been indisposed & saw no company; but today, I was admitted. She was in a pleasing undress,¹¹ & looked very pretty. She received me with great politeness. We chatted on the common topics. We were not easy — there was a constraint upon us — We did not sit right on our chairs & we were unwilling to look at one another. I talked to her, on the advantage of having an agreable acquaintance, & hoped I might see her, now & then. She desired me to call in whenever I came that way, without ceremony. And pray, said she, when shall I have the pleasure of your company, at tea? I fixed Thursday & left her, very well satisfied with my first visit. I then called on Mr. Lee,¹² who is a good agreable honest man; & with whom I associate fine gay ideas of the Edinburgh Theatre, in my Boyish days, when I used to walk down the Cannongate, & think of Players with a mixture of narrow-minded horror, & lively-minded pleasure: and used to wonder at painted equipages & powdered Ladies, & sing the Bonny bush aboon Traquair,¹³ and admire Mrs. Bland¹⁴ in her chair with tassels, and flambeaux before her.¹⁵ I did not find Lee, at home. I then went to Love’s. They were just sitting down to a piece of Roast-Beef. I said that was a dish which I never let pass, and so sat down & took a slice of it. I was vexed at myself, for doing it even at the time. Love abused Mr. Digges grossly. [S]aid he was a worse player than the lowest Actor in Covent-Garden. Their vulgarity & stupid malevolence (for Mrs. Love also joined in the abuse) disgusted me much. I left them determined scarcely to keep up an acquaintance with them, & in general to keep clear of the Players, which indeed I do at present. I dined at home. Whenever I dont mention my place of dining, it is to be understood that I dine at home. In my account of Mr. Terrie’s family, I neglected to mention Molly the maid; whose pardon I most sincerely ask; as she is such a Personage as one does not meet with, every day. She is indeed one of the stupidest human beings that I ever met with. She has not as the Philosophers say the Anima rationalis¹⁶ in a great degree: But she rather has a kind of Instinct, by which she is actuated, by which, however, she goes on pretty well. She is very carefull & diligent; and extremely goodnatured & disposed to oblige, and as she is ugly her head is not taken off from her Business.

WEDNESDAY 15 DECEMBER¹

The Ennemies of the People of England who would have them considered in the worst light, represent them as selfish, — Beef-eaters, — and cruel. In this view I resolved today to be a true-born old-Englishman. I went into the City, to Dolly’s Steak house in Pater-noster row² and swallowed my dinner, by my self to fullfill the charge of selfishness; I had a large, fat, beaf-steak to fullfill the charge of Beef-eating, and I went at five o clock to the Royal Cock-pit³ in St. James’s Park and saw Cockfighting for about five hours, to fullfill the charge of Cruelty. A Beef-steak house is a most excellent place to dine at. You come in there to a warm comfortable large room, where a number of People are sitting at table. You take whatever place you find empty; call for what you like; which you get well & cleverly drest. You may either chat or not as you like. Nobody minds you; & you pay very reasonably. My Dinner, Beef[,] Bread & Beer & Waiter⁴ was only a shilling. The Waiters make a great deal of money by these Pennys. Indeed I admire the English for attending to small sums; as many smalls make a great, according to the proverb. At five I filled my pockets with Gingerbread & Apples (quite the method) put on my old cloaths & laced hat, laid by my watch, Purse & Pocket-book, & with oaken stick in my hand, sallied to the Pit. I was too soon there: So I went into a low Inn, sat down amongst a Parcel of arrant Blackguards & drank some beer. The Sentry near the house⁵ had been very civil in showing me the way. It was very cold. I bethought myself of the poor fellow; so I carried out a pint of beer myself to him. He was very thankfull, and drank my health cordialy. He told me his name was Hobard, that he was a Watch-maker,⁶ but in distress for debt; and enlisted that his Creditors might not touch him.⁷ I then went to the Cockpit which is a circular room in the middle of which the Cocks fight. It is seated round with rows gradualy rising. The Pit and the seats are all covered with Mat. The Cocks nicely cut & drest & armed⁸ with silver heels are set down & fight with amazing bitterness & resolution. Some of them were quickly dispatched. One pair fought three quarters of an hour. The uproar & noise of betting is prodigious. A great deal of money made a very quick circulation from hand to hand. There was a number of profest gamblers there. [A]n old cunning dog whose face I had seen at Newmarket, sat by me, awhile. I told him I knew nothing of the matter. Sir said he you have [as] good a chance as any body. He thought I would be a good subject for him. I was young-like. But he found himself baulked. I was shocked to see the distraction & anxiety of the Betters. I was sorry for the poor cocks. I looked round to see if any of the Spectators pitied them, when mangled & torn in a most cruel manner: But I could not observe the smallest relenting sign in any countenance. I was therefore not ill-pleased to see them endure mental torment. Thus did I compleat my true english day & came home pretty much fatigued & pretty much confounded at the strange turn of this People.

THURSDAY 16 DECEMBER

I called at the Duke’s in the morning; but found that he was just setting out for Amesbury,¹ & could see nobody. This vexed me a little, as I was anxious to hear his success this week. I sat at home, writing all the forenoon. I received a letter from Mcquhae, with an account of the death of his pupil² the only son & comfort of his parents. I was much shocked with it: Yet the consideration of the vanity of this life, and the hopes of a better made me easy. In the afternoon, I went to Louisa’s. A little black young fellow her Brother³ came in. I could have wished him at the bay of Honduras. However, I found him a good quiet obliging being who gave us no disturbance. She talked on a Man’s liking a woman’s company, & of the injustice People treated them with, in suspecting any thing bad. This was a fine artfull pretty speech. We talked of french manners, & how they studied to make one another happy. The English, said I, accuse them of being false; because they misunderstand them. When a Frenchman makes warm professions of regard, he does it only to please you for the time. It is words of course.⁴ There is no more of it. But the English who are cold & phlegmatic in their address, take all these fine speeches in earnest; and are confounded to find them otherwise & exclaim against the perfidious Gaul, most unjustly. For when Frenchmen put a thing home seriously & vow fidelity, they have the strictest honour. O they are the People who enjoy time; so lively[,] pleasant & gay. You never hear of madness or self-murder among them. Heat of fancy evaporates in a fine brisk clear vapour with them, but amongst the English often falls heavy upon the Brain[.] We chatted pretty easily. We talked of Love; as a thing that could not be controul’d by reason, as a fine passion. I could not clearly discern how she meant to behave to me. She told me that a Gentleman had come to her & offered her £50 but that her brother knocked at the door, & the man run out of the house, without saying a word. I said I wished he had left his money. We joked much about the £50. I said I expected some night to be surprised with such an offer from some decent, elderly Gentlewoman. I made just a comic parody to her story. I sat till past 8. She said she hoped it would not be long before she had the pleasure of seeing me again. This night I made no visible progress in my amour: But, I in reality was doing a great deal. I was getting well acquainted with her. I was appearing an agreable Companion to her; I was informing her by my looks, of my passion for her.

FRIDAY 17 DECEMBER

I engaged in this Amour just with a view of convenient pleasure; but the God of pleasing anguish now seriously seised my breast. I felt the fine delirium of love. I waited on Louisa at one, found her alone; told her that her goodness in hoping to see me soon had brought me back: that it appeared long to me since I saw her. I was a little bashfull. However I took a good heart, & talked with ease & dignity. I hope Madam, you are at present, a single woman. — yes Sir. ‘[A]nd your affections are not engaged.[’] They are not Sir. But this is leading me into a strange confession. I assure you Madam; my affections are engaged[.] Are they Sir? Yes Madam they are engaged to you. (She looked soft & beautifull)[.] I hope we shall be better acquainted, & like one another better. Come Sir let us talk no more of that now. No Madam I will not. It is like giving the Book in the Preface. Just so, Sir, telling in the Preface, what should be in the middle of the Book. — (I think such conversations are best written in the Dialogue way). Madam I was very happy to find you. From the first time that I saw you, I admired you. O Sir. I did, indeed. What I like beyond every thing, is an agreable female companion where I can be at home & have tea & genteel conversation. I was quite happy to be here. Sir you are wellcome here, as often as you please. Every evening, if you please. Madam I am infinitely obliged to you. This is just what I wanted. I left her, in good spirits, & dined at Sheridan’s. Well, said he, are you going into the Guards. Yes, Sir said I; the Temple scheme would not have done: It would only have been putting off time. I would not have applied. You cannot get a man to undergo the drudgery of the Law, who only want[s] to pass his life agreably, and who thinks that my Lord Chancellor’s¹ four and twenty hours are not a bit happier than mine[.] Dont you think Sir, said I, that I am in the right to pursue the plan I like. He replied, I wont speak to you, on the Subject. But I shall allways be glad to see you. We talked of Johnson. He told me a story of him. I was dining, said Johnson, with the Mayor of Windsor² who gave me a very hearty dinner; but, not satisfied with feeding my body, he would also feed my understanding. So after he had spoke a great deal of clumsy nonsence, he told me that at the last Sessions, he had transported three people to the Plantations.³ I was so provoked with the fellow’s dullness and impertinence, that I exclaimed, ‘I wish to God, Sir, I was the fourth.’ Nothing could more strongly express his dissatisfaction. Mrs. Sheridan told me that he was very sober; but would sit up the whole night. He left them once at two in the morning, & begged to be excused for going away, so soon, as he had another visit to make. I like to mark every Anecdote of men of so much genius & literature. I found out Sheridan’s great cause of quarrel with him was, that when Johnson heard of his getting a pension; What! said he, has he got a pension? Then it is time for me to give up mine.⁴ Now said he, here was the greatest ingratitude: For it was I and Wedderburn that first set the thing agoing.⁵ This I beleive was true. Mrs. Sheridan told me that she was travelling in a Stage coach, & had sat silent for a long time, while a fellow was chattering away, like a Magpye, & thought they were all admiring his brightness. At last he simper’d & said, An’t I a most egregious Coxcomb? Um? cried an old deaf Gentleman. Mrs. Sheridan bawled into his ear, The Gentleman[,] Sir[,] is a great coxcomb: He thinks we don’t observe it; and he wants to tell us of it. This confounded him so, that he did not speak a word for a long time. Mr. Sheridan said that this age was (as Henry Feilding stiled it) a trifling age.⁶ In the reign of Queen Anne said he, merit was encouraged. Then a Mr. Prior was Ambassador, and a Mr. Addison Secretary of state.⁷ Then Genius was cherished by the beams of courtly favour. But in the reigns of George the first and George the Second, it was a dissadvantage to be clever. Dullness & corruption were the only means of preferrment. I knew several people when at school, whose Juvenilia were equal to those of the great men of letters in Queen Anne’s time; but as true great genius is allways accompanied with good sense, they soon saw that being men of Literary merit, was not the way to rise; and therefore they turned Lawyers & Physicians and other Employments, while the buds of Genius withered away. I said I hoped we now lived in a better age, and that the reign of George the third would give all due encouragement to Genius. Yes, said he, we may now expect that Merit will flourish. He observed that the Bishops in particular were the great Ennemies of merit. That if a man could write well, they were of Captain Plume’s opinion about the Attorney; ‘a dangerous man; discharge him, discharge him.’⁸ He said Lord Holdernesse with the greatest difficulty got Mr. Mason the author of Elfrida a living of £200 a year.⁹ Mrs. Cholmondely[,] wife to the Honourable & Reverend Mr. Cholmondely[,] came to tea. Her husband was an Ensign in the Guards and at the battle of Fontenoy, fairly hid himself; for which he was disgracefully broke at the head of the army. He turned Clergyman, and being an Earl’s brother, has done very well.¹⁰ His Lady is sister to the late Mrs. Woffington the famous Actress. She is a pretty looking woman, lively and entertaining, with that fine gay polish of manners, which is only to be acquired in the genteelest company. Doctor Chamberlain[,]¹¹ brother to Mrs. Sheridan[,] a shrewd hearty man, was recollecting how long it was since he saw Mrs. Cholmondely. Just seven years, Sir, said she. Madam, you mark time better than I do. True, Sir, replied Sheridan, but you must observe that time has not marked her. Sheridan found fault with Francis’s translation of Horace.¹² For said he, to give the literal meaning of [H]orace, it should be in verse. [T]o give an idea of his manner & spirit, it should be imitation, & applied to the present time, like Swift’s two imitations¹³ which are the only good ones. I mentioned Pope’s.¹⁴ He, sir, said he, has rather the gall of Juvenal,¹⁵ than the delicate tartness of Horace. This Chamberlain & I opposed; and indeed justly. Sheridan said that selfishness was the great cause of unhappiness, and that whenever a person made self the center, misery must ensue. I talked to him of Erskine’s odd character[.] [S]uch people said he must have diseased minds. I realy past this Afternoon very well, and with improvement as well as entertainment. I thought myself much happier than in the Kelly company, where mirth alone is the object; as if man was only formed a risible animal. I mentioned to Sheridan how difficult it was to be acquainted with people of fashion in London. That they have a reserve & a forbidding shyness to Strangers. He accounted for it thus: The Strangers that come here, are idle & unemployed, they don’t know what to do; and they are anxious to get acquaintances[.] Whereas the genteel people who have lived long in town have got acquaintances enough[;] their time is all filled up. And till they find a man particularly worth knowing they are very backward. But when you once get their freindship, you have them firm to you. I lamented to him the stiffness and formality of good company, & the emptiness of their conversation. Why, Sir said he, the People of fashion in England are very ill educated, & can make no figure; to disguise this, & prevent such as have got parts & application, from shining, conversation is just reduced to a system of Insipidity, where you just repeat the most insignificant common-place things, in a sort of affected delicacy of tone[.] I remember, said he, when the late Lord Shelburne¹⁶ had been sometime in London, he told me that he was a very unhappy man. That before he left Ireland he used allways to have the conversation of men of genius and letters; but that here, he was allways in the best Company, where he heard nothing & could say nothing. My Lord said I, will you come and eat a beef-steak with me, and I’ll show you some good company. He accordingly came, & I had some Men of Genius[,] taste & learning for him; and he was quite transported and declared he had not past a happy day, before, since he came to London. This Sheridan told me.

SATURDAY 18 DECEMBER

I should have mentioned yesterday, that as I was sitting in my parlour, after breakfast, Captain James Webster newly arrived from Germany¹ came in. He looked healthy and spirited notwithstanding of all the severities that he had endured. I was very glad to see him. This day I was rather too late in going to Child’s so that all the Politics were over. I have therefore little or nothing from thence, worth setting down. However, as I am a man who love forms, I shall allways continue to present such as it is, my Saturday’s

Dialogue at Child’s.

1 Cit Pray Doctor what became of that patient of yours? Was not her scull fractured?

Physic. Yes. to Pieces. However I got her cured.

1 Cit. Good Lord.

Enter 2 Cit. hastily. I saw just now the Duke of Kingston pass this door, drest more like a footman than a Nobleman.

1 Cit Why do you ever see a Nobleman drest like himself, walking?

2 Cit. He had just on a plain frock.² If I had not seen the half of his star, I should not have known that it was him. But maybe you’ll say a half-star is sometimes better than a whole moon.³ eh? ha! ha! ha!

There was a hearty loud laugh. I then went to Louisa’s. I was realy in love. I felt a warmth at my heart, which glowed in my face. I attempted to be like Digges, & considered the similarity of our Genius and pleasures. I acquired confidence by considering my present character in this light. A young fellow of spirit & fashion[,] heir to a good fortune, enjoying the pleasures of London, and now making his addresses in order to have an intrigue with that delicious subject of Gallantry, an Actress. I talked on love very freely. Madam said I, I can never think of having a connection with Women that I don’t love. That Sir said she is only having a satisfaction in common with the Brutes. But when there is a union of minds, that is indeed estimable. But dont think Sir that I am a Platonist.⁴ I am not indeed. (This hint gave me courage)[.] To be sure Madam when there is such a connection as you mention it is the finest thing in the World. I beg you may just show me civility according as you find me deserve it. — Such a connection Sir, requires time to establish it. — (I thought it honest & proper to let her know that she must not depend on me for giving her much money)[.] Madam, said I, don’t think too highly of me. Nor give me the respect which men of great fortune get, by custom. I am here upon a very moderate allowance. I am upon honour to make it serve me, and I am obliged to live with great œconomy. She received this very well. At night, I went to Mr. Thomas Davies’s shop & sat a while. I told him that I wanted much to see Johnson. Sir said he, if you’ll dine with me, on Christmas day, you shall see him. He & some more men of letters are to be with me. I very readily accepted this Invitation.

SUNDAY 19 DECEMBER

The night before, I drank tea & sat all the evening writing in the room with My Landlord and Landlady. They insisted that I should eat a bit of Supper. I complied. I also drank a glass of Punch. I read some of Pope. I sung a Song. I let myself down too much. Also being unaccustomed to taste supper, my small alteration put me out of order. I went up to my room, much disgusted. I thought myself a low being. This morning I breakfasted with Mr. Murray of Broughtoun¹ & then he & [I] went & waited on Lord and Lady Garlies, from whence we took Captain Keith Stewart² with us, & went to St. John’s Chapel,³ & heard a tollerable sermon on Humility. I was not so devout, as I could have wished. I then went to Macfarlane’s. The Ladies were indisposed, I could not see them. I had not been there, nor seen one of the family, all the week before. Captain Erskine is a most particular fellow. His indifference is amazing. He is vastly happy to have the Company of People that he likes: Yet he is not a bit troubled at their absence; nor will he take the smallest pains to be with them. I was realy a little picqued, that I had now been from him, a week; that I had wished to see him; but that he had never once thought of me; which he told me. I must take him just in his own way. We were very chearfull & flighty. He abused the stile of genteel company. We agreed in calling it a consensual obliteration of the human faculties.⁴ I drank tea with Louisa. Her Brother was there. I was very chatty & gay with looking at so fine a woman, and thinking what delight I should have with her. She had a meeting with Mr. Steede[,]⁵ an old Gentleman[,] late prompter and now in the Cabinet Council of Covent-Garden Theatre: So, I was obliged to leave her, at seven. I can come home in an evening[,] put on my old-cloaths, nightcap & slippers, & sit as contented as a Cobler writing my Journal, or letters to my freinds. While I can thus entertain myself, I must be happy in Solitude. Indeed there is a great difference between solitude in the Country, where you cannot help it, and in London where you can in a moment be in the hurry & splendour of life.

MONDAY 20 DECEMBER

I went to Louisa’s after breakfast. Indeed, said I, it was hard upon me to leave you so soon yesterday. I am quite happy in your company. Sir said she, you are very obliging. But, said she, I am in bad humour, this morning. There was a Person who profest the greatest freindship for me; I now applied for their Assistance. But was shifted.¹ It was such a trifle that I am sure they could have granted it. So I have been railing against my fellow creatures. Nay dear Madam dont abuse them all, on account of an individual. But pray what was this favour? might I know. (She blushed)[.] Why Sir, there is a Person has sent to me for a trifling debt. I sent back word that it was not convenient for me to let them have it just now; but in six weeks I should pay it. — I was a little confounded and embarrassed here. I dreaded bringing myself into a scrape. I did not know what she might call a trifling sum. I half resolved to say no more. However I thought that she might now be trying my generosity and regard for her; and truly this was the real test. I thought I would see if it was in my power to assist her. — Pray Madam what was the sum? Only two Guineas, Sir. Amazed & pleased, I pulled out my purse[.] Madam said I, if I can do you any service, you may command me. Two Guineas is at present all that I have, but a trifle more. There they are for you. I told you that I had very little; But yet I hope to live. Let us just be honest with one another. Tell me when you are in any little distress, & I will tell you what I can do. — She took the Guineas. — Sir I am infinitely obliged to you; As soon as it is in my power, I shall return them. Indeed I could not have expected this from you. — Her gratitude warmed my heart. — Madam! tho’ I have little, yet as far as ten Guineas, you may apply to me. I would live upon nothing, to serve one that I regarded. I did not well know what to think of this scene. Sometimes I thought it artifice & that I was taken in. And then again, I viewed it just as a circumstance that might very easily happen. Her mentioning returning the money, looked well. My naming the sum of ten guineas was rash; however, I considered that it cost me as much to be cured of what I contracted from a Whore, and that ten Guineas was but a moderate expence for women, during the winter. I had all along, treated her with a distant politeness. On Saturday I just kist her hand. She now sung to me. I got up in raptures & kist her with great warmth. She received this very genteely. I had a delicacy in presuming too far, lest it should look like demanding goods for my money. I resumed the subject of love & gallantry. She said, I pay no regard to the opinion in the world so far as contradicts my own sentiments. No Madam, we are not to mind the arbitrary rules imposed by the multitude. Yet, Sir, there is a decency to be kept with the Public: And I must do so; whose bread depends upon them. Certainly, Madam. But when may I wait upon you? tomorrow evening? — Sir, I am obliged to be all day with a Lady who is not well. Then next day, Madam. What? to drink a dish of tea, Sir? No, no, not to drink a dish of tea. (Here I looked sheepish)[.] What time may I wait upon you? Whenever you please, Sir. I kist her, again, & went away highly pleased with the thoughts of the affair being settled. I dined at Macfarlane’s. We were very hearty. I indulged in it, much. Erskine & I walked down the Hay-market together throwing out sallies & laughing loud. Erskine[,] said I, dont I make your existence pass more cleverly than any body. Yes you do. Dont I make you say more good things? Yes. You extract more out of me, you are more chymical to me, than any body. We drank tea at Dempster’s. I went & sat a while with Captain Webster. He told me that the fatigues of a German Campaign are allmost incredible. That he was fourteen nights running without being under cover, & often had scarcely any victuals. He said he never once repented his being a Soldier, altho’ he curst the sad fatigues. Men said he, are in that way rendered desperate; & I have wished for an Action either to get out of the world altogether, or to get a little rest after it. We talked on a variety of old Storys. He is a lively young fellow, and has humour. We were very merry. He returned me many thanks for my Company & said it revived him.

TUESDAY 21 DECEMBER

I had resolved not to dine with my Landlord, nor to see them much this week, in order to recover my proper dignity & distance. Another very good reason now glared me strong in the face. By my letting Louisa have two Guineas I had only thirteen shillings left and my term of payment, as I have £25 every six weeks, was not till the 7 of Janry. I therefore could not afford a shilling nor near so much for dinner. So that I was put to my shifts,¹ as I would not be indebted for dinner, nor go & ask my allowance, before it was due. I sat in till between four and five. I then went to Holbourn, to a cheesemonger’s & bought a piece of 3 lib. 10 oz. which cost me 14½.² I eat part of it in the shop, with a halfpenny roll[,] two of which I had bought at a Baker’s. I then carried home, my provision, & eat some more cheese with the other roll, & a ½ worth³ of apples by way of relish & took a drink of water. I recollected that I had left a guinea of security at Noble’s circulating Library.⁴ I went & told him that he should put confidence in me; so got it back. This was a most wellcome guest to my pocket & communicated spirit to my heart. But, alas, of short duration was this state of opulence. I was reminded by Miss Terrie of a pair of lace ruffles that I had bespoke which came to 16 sh. Very well, said I & payed them. There was the genteel determined Spirit. I comforted myself by thinking that I suffered in the service of my Mistress: and I was romanticly amused to think that I was now obliged to my wits, & living on the proffit of my works, having got just 13 sh by my Cub.

I should have mentioned that on Monday, Captain Douglass of Kilhead & Captain Maxwell of Dalswinton⁵ breakfasted with me. This Evening I had a little Adventure which took away the 26^th part of my little stock. I was passing by [W]hitehall, when a little boy came & told a girl who sold Gingerbreadnuts that he had just given her sixpence instead of a farthing. She denied this: Upon which the poor Boy cried & lamented most bitterly. I thought myself bound to interfere in the affair. The Boy effirmed the charge with the open keen look of conscious innocence while the young Jade denied it, with the colour of countenance & bitterness of Expression that betrayed guilt. But what could be done. There was no proof. At last I put it to this test. Will you say Devil take you if you got his sixpence? This imprecation the little Gipsey roared out twice, most fervently. Therefore, she got off. No jury in any court could have brought her, in guilty. There was now a good many people assembled about us. The Boy was in very great distress. I asked him if the sixpence was his own. He said it was his mothers. I conceived the misery of his Situation when he got home. There Sir said I, is the sixpence to you. Go home & be easy. I then walked on much satisfied with myself. Such a little incident as this might be laughed at as trifling. But I cannot help thinking it amusing, and valuing it as a specimen of my own tenderness of disposition and willingness to releive my fellow creatures.

WEDNESDAY 22 DECEMBER

I stood & chatted a while with the Sentrys before Buckingham-House;¹ one of them[,] an old fellow[,] said he was in all the last War. At the Battle of Dettingen² said he, I saw our cannon make a lane thro’ the french army as broad as that (pointing to the Mall)³ which was filled up in as short time as I’m telling you it. They asked me for a pint of beer which I gave them. I talked on the sad mischief of war, & on the frequency of Poverty. Why, Sir said he, God made all right at first when he made mankind. — I beleive said the other, he made but few of them. But, Sir, if God was to make the world today, it would be crooked again tomorrow. But the time will come, when we shall all be rich enough. To be sure, Salvation is promised to those that die in the feild.⁴ I have great pleasure in conversing with the lower part of Mankind, who have very curious ideas. This forenoon I went to Louisa’s in full Expectation of consummate bliss. I was in a strange flutter of feeling. I was ravished at the prospect of Joy, and yet I had such an anxiety upon me, that I was affraid that my powers would be enervated. I allmost wished to be free of this Assignation. I entered her Apartment in a sort of confusion. She was elegantly drest in the morning fashion,⁵ and looked delightfully well. I felt the tormenting anxiety of serious love. I sat down & I talked with the distance of a new acquaintance, and not with the ease and ardour of a lover, or rather a Gallant. I talked of her lodgings being neat[,] opened the door of her bedchamber, looked into it. Then sat down by her in a most melancholy plight. I would have given a good deal to be out of the room. We talked of Religion; Said She[:] People who deny that, show a want of sense. For my own part, Madam, I look upon the Adoration of the Supreme being as one of the greatest Enjoyments we have. I would not chuse to get rid of my religious notions. I have read books that staggered me: But I was glad to find myself regain my former opinions. Nay, Sir what do you think of the Scriptures having stood the test of Ages. — Are you a Roman Catholic Madam? — No Sir[,] tho’ I like some parts of their Religion; in particular, Confession, not that I think the Priest can remit sins, but because the notion that we are to confess to a decent Clergyman, may make us cautious what we do. Madam, said I, I would ask you to do nothing that you should be sorry to confess: Indeed I have a great deal of principle in matters of gallantry, & never yet led any woman to do what might afterwards make her uneasy. If she thinks it wrong, I never insist. She asked me some questions about my intrigues; which I nicely eluded. I then sat near her & began to talk softly; but finding myself quite dejected with love, I realy cried out, & told her that I was miserable; & as I was stupid, would go away. I rose, but saluting⁶ her with warmth, my powers were excited, I felt myself vigorous, I sat down again[.] I beseeched her. You know, Madam, you said you was not a Platonist. I beg it of you to be so kind. You said you are above the finesse of your Sex. (Be sure allways to make a woman better than her sex)[.] I adore you. — Nay dear Sir (I pressing her to me & kissing her now and then) pray be quiet. Such a thing requires time to consider of. — Madam I own this would be necessary for any man but me. But you must take my character from Myself. I am very good tempered[,] very honest, & have little money. I should have some reward for my particular honesty. — But, Sir, give me time to recollect myself — Well then, Madam, when shall I see you? — On friday, Sir — A thousand thanks — I left her, & came home & took my bread & cheese, with great contentment, & then went & chatted awhile with Webster. I had not been at Lord Eglintoune’s for ten days. Last night I received a card from him. ‘Lord Eglintoune presents his Compliments to Mr. Boswell, and returns him a great many thanks for being so good as call on him, so often. He is sorry he happened to be allways out when Mr. Boswell call’d.’ This he intended as a sharp reproof. However, as Lord Northumberland had called for me,⁷ I thought Lord Eglintoune might do so: As I was quite independent of him. The card was not written with his own hand, which I was not pleased at. I am the easiest fellow in the world to those who behave well to me: But if a man has treated me with the least slight I will keep him to every punctilio. I sent him for answer. ‘Mr. Boswell presents his Compliments to Lord Eglintoune; hopes he will excuse his writing this card with his own hand: He has not a Secretary. Mr. Boswell has payed his respects to Lord Eglintoune, several times. He lodges at Mr. Terrie’s in Downing Street.’ This had a proper effect; for today he called, when I was abroad; which satisfied me much. I sat this Evening awhile with Webster. He entertained me & raised my spirits with military conversation: Yet he sunk them a little; as he brought into my mind some dreary tolboothkirk⁸ ideas, than which nothing has given me more gloomy feelings. I shall never forget the dismal hours of Apprehension, that I have endured in my youth from narrow notions of Religion while my tender mind was lacerated with infernal horror. I am surprised how I have got rid of these notions so entirely. Thank God, my mind is now clear and elevated. I am serene and happy. I can look up to my Creator with Adoration and hope.

THURSDAY 23 DECEMBER

I should have mentioned some days ago, that Erskine & I took a walk in St. James’s Park, on a fine, sunshine forenoon. I told him that if the Guards could not be got for me[,] I would just take a Cornetcy of Dragoons.¹ I beseech you said he; never think of that. You would grow melancholy. You would destroy yourself. If you was sent by yourself to country quarters, I would not trust you with a Bason of cold water to wash your hands; nor with the most aukward imitation of a Penknife. I had this day a walk there with Sheridan. Said he, Our present plan of Education is very bad. A young man is taught for a number of years, a variety of things, which when he comes into the world, he finds of no manner of use. There is not one thing taught for the conduct of real life. The mind is plowed & harrowed; but there is no seed sown. By cultivation the soil is made rich, & so when a young man comes into the world, whatever happens to be sown, grows up in great luxuriance. A strong proof that the minds of the People of England are not formed, is their instability. In Oliver Cromwell’s time,² they were all precise, canting³ Creatures. And no sooner did Charles the second⁴ come over, then they turned gay rakes & libertines. In James the first’s time, the Duke of Buckingham[,] who wanted to rival Cardinal Richilieu in every thing, brought about a Parliamentary enquiry into the state of Education, that he might do as much in that way as the great Minister of France; but by the Duke’s death, this did not take place, at least was not carried through.⁵ Without such a scheme, we cannot hope for a proper plan of Education. But this I have reason to beleive will be one of the first Objects after the peace. My plan would be that young people should be perfectly qualified to be good citizens in the first place; and that there should be particular opportunities of Instruction for every particular way of life. There is one rank for which there is no plan of Education, & that is Country Gentlemen. Surely this is of great importance, that the landed interest should be well instructed. Mr. Sheridan (said I) I have thought a good deal upon Education. I see so many difficulties: that I despair of a good method. I take this state of Being to be a jest; that it is not intended that we should do much here to the purpose; and therefore we must just go thro’ it, the best way we can[.] Nay Sir, said he, we can do something to the purpose. — Indeed it is more agreable to think of doing something, than to consider ourselves as nothing at all.

I eat my cold repast today heartily. I have great spirits. I see how little a man can live upon. I find that Fortune cannot get the better of me. I never can come lower than to live on bread and cheese.

FRIDAY 24 DECEMBER

I waited on Louisa. Says she I have been very unhappy since you was here. I have been thinking of what I said to you. I find that such a connection would make me miserable. — I hope Madam, I am not dissagreable to you. No, Sir, you are not. If it was the first Duke in England I spoke to, I should just say the same thing. But pray, Madam, what is your objection? Realy Sir, I have many dissagreable Apprehensions. It may be known. Circumstances might be very troublesom. I beg it of you, Sir, consider of it. Your own good sense will agree with me. Instead of visiting me as you do now, you would find a discontented unhappy creature. I was quite confused. I did not know what to say. At last I agreed to think of it, & see her on Sunday. I came home & dined in dejection. Yet I mustered up vivacity & away I went in full dress to Northumberland-House. There was spirit, to lay out a couple of Shillings¹ & be a man of fashion in my situation. There was true œconomy.

SATURDAY 25 DECEMBER

The night before, I did not rest well. I was realy violently in love with Louisa. I thought she did not care for me. I thought that if I did not gain her Affections, I would appear despicable to myself. This day I was in a better frame, being Christmass-day which has allways inspired me with most agreable feelings.¹ I went to St. Paul’s Church & in that magnificent temple fervently adored the God of Goodness & Mercy, & heard a sermon by the Bishop of Oxford² on the publishing of glad tidings of great joy.³ I then went to Child’s where little was passing. However here goes the form of a

Dialogue at Child’s.

1 Cit Why here is the Bill of Mortality.⁴ Is it right, Doctor? Physic. Why I dont know.

1 Cit. I’m sure it is not. 16 only died of cholics!⁵ I daresay you have killed as many yourself?

2 Cit Ay & hanged but three! O lord ha! ha! ha!

I then sat a while at Coutts’s⁶ & and then at Macfarlane’s & then went to Davies’s.⁷ Johnson was gone to Oxford.⁸ I was introduced to Mr. Dodsley⁹ a good jolly decent conversable man; and Mr. Goldsmith¹⁰ a curious odd pedantic fellow with some genius. It was quite a literary dinner. I had seen no warm victuals for four days & therefore played a very bold knife & fork. It is inconceivable how hearty I eat & how comfortable I felt myself after it. We talked entirely in the way of Geniuses. We talked of Poetry. Said Goldsmith[,] ‘The Miscellaneous Poetry of this age is nothing like that of the last: it is very poor. Why there now Mr. Dodsley is your Collection.’¹¹ — Dods: ‘I think that equal to those made by Dryden¹² and Pope’. — Golds: To consider them Sir as villages[,] your’s may be as good; but let us compare house with house, you can produce me no edifices equal to the Ode on St. Cecilia’s day,¹³ Absalom & Achitophel,¹⁴ or the rape of the lock.¹⁵ Dods: We have poems in a different way. There is nothing of the kind in the last age superior to the Spleen.¹⁶ Bos: And what do you think of Gray’s odes?¹⁷ are not they noble. Golds: Ah the rumbling thunder! I remember a freind of mine was very fond of Gray. Yes said I he is very fine indeed; as thus —

Mark the white and mark the red,

Mark the blue and mark the green:

Mark the colours e’er they fade,

Darting thro’ the Welkin Sheene.¹⁸

O yes said he, great great! True Sir said I, but I have made the lines this moment. Bos: Well I admire Gray prodigiously. I have read his odes, till I was allmost mad. Golds. They are terribly obscure. We must be Historians & learned men before we can understand them. Davies. And why not? He is not writing to Porters or Carrmen.¹⁹ He is writing to men of knowledge. Golds Have you seen Love in a Village? Bos. I have. I think it a good pleasing thing. Golds. I am affraid we will have no good plays now. The taste of the Audience is spoiled by the Pantomime of Shakespear. The wonderfull changes & shiftings.²⁰ Davies Nay but you will allow that Shakespear has great merit. Golds. No. I know Shakespear very well. (Here I said nothing; but thought him a most impudent Puppy)[.] Bos. What do you think of Johnson? Golds. He has exceeding great merit. His Rambler is a noble work. Bos: His Idler too is very pretty. It is a lighter performance;²¹ and he has thrown off the Classical fetters very much. Davies. He is a most entertaining Companion. And how can it be otherwise when he has so much Imagination, has read so much, and digested it so well. We had many more topics which I don’t remember. I was very well. I then went to Macfarlane’s. We were very merry. Erskine & I had some bread & wine & talked for near two hours. He told me that he was kept as a blackguard²² when he was a Boy, then went to Sea & then came into the Army. And that he wondered how he had turned out a tollerable being.

SUNDAY 26 DECEMBER

I went to Whitehall Chappel¹ and heard service. I took a whim to go through all the Churches and Chapels in London, taking one each Sunday. At one I went to Louisa’s. I told her my passion in the warmest terms. I told her that my happiness absolutely depended upon her. She said it was running the greatest risque. Then said I[,] Madam you will show the greatest generosity to a most sincere lover. She said that we should take time to consider of it; & that then we could better determine how to act. We agreed that the time should be a week, & that if I remained of the same opinion she would then make me blest. There is no telling how easy it made my mind to be convinced that She did not despise me; but on the contrary had a tender heart and wished to make me easy and happy. I this day received a letter from the Duke of Queensberry (in answer to one that I had wrote him;) telling me that a Commission in the Guards was a fruitless pursuit, and advising me to take to a civil rather than a military life.² I was quite stupified & enraged at this. I imagined my Father was at the bottom of it.³ I had multitudes of wild schemes. I thought of enlisting for five years as a Soldier in India, of being a private man⁴ either in the horse or footguards &c. At last good sense prevailed & I resolved to be chearfull & to wait & to ask it of Lady Northumberland. At night I sat at Macfarlane’s pretty well.

MONDAY 27 DECEMBER

Break[fast] hearty at 9 — & at 10 go to Sir James’s — Be retenué yet pleasant; sit till 12 then Eglint[oune]. Be Digges there. Let your mind be easy. All is well — Your closet has not been looked into.¹ By degrees, you will get a Commission. You will publish volume in Winter next² and in this you are improving & living happily. Get money from Dun. Also Eglint[oune]’s 3 Shill.³ laugh & say you need silver. Go at 2 to Louisa — Sell lace⁴ — home before 4 dress. Then Ersk[ine]’s &c. Home & all Tuesday Journ — and beware of Dissipation; keep up

I went to Mrs. Gould’s & told my lamentable Story. I also told it to my freind Douglass. They advised me to apply to Lady Northumberland. I therefore wrote a letter to her Ladyship to the following purpose:

Madam.

Your kindness to me upon many occasions makes me freely tell you any thing that vexes me. Sympathy is the greatest cordial we can have. I have received a letter from The Duke of Queens-berry informing me that a Commission in the Guards cannot be got for me. What does your Ladyship think of a man who notwithstanding of such a dissapointment can cry vive la Bagatelle!⁵ & walk about contented chearfull & merry? Have not I spirit? ought I not to be a Soldier? ought I not to have the honour of serving George the Third? When your Ladyship tore the skin of your leg,⁶ & yet kept up your spirits, You had good reason to be vain. I think I may be so too. Your Ladyship may remember that I observed to you that People often fell into a great mistake; Because People of consequence liked them as Acquaintances & showed them civility they applied to them for substantial favours, which is quite a different sort of a thing. To come to the point Madam, Here am I anxious to get a Commission in the Guards. If you & My Lord can do the thing for me, I shall be very happy. I have an independent Spirit. I think welch rabbit & Porter with freedom of spirit better than Ortolans & Burgundy with servility.⁷ I will by no means cringe[,] not even to the ancient and honourable family of Northumberland. As a family I revere it. But I revere my own mind more. I can assure you Madam, that I do not expect that you are to take so much trouble for me. But I thought it was a chance & I might try. I have got as much as I can live upon: But I want to be something & I like nothing but the Army. If your Ladyship tells me that it is not convenient, I shall neither be surprised nor fretted. I am much obliged to you, for your goodness allready. It just comes to this, If the Representatives of the noble Piercy chuse to take a young man of a good old Scotch family by the hand, Who will rather do credit to his friends than otherwise & who will be very gratefull, it will be extremely obliging.

       I remain &c.

This I sent to her Ladyship.

I drank tea at Lady Betty’s (for I will no longer name Macfarlane) and went with her & Lady Anne to Lady Frances Erskine’s where was a genteel company[,] tea and cards. I had been with Louisa in the forenoon, & I was allways thinking of her. It must henceforth be taken for granted that I see her every day except when I mention the contrary. I came home with the Ladies & supt. We were very merry. They owned that I was very well drest.

TUESDAY 28 DECEMBER

Break[fast] at 9 — then sit in at journal all forenoon write much & full also to Johnst[on] & to father. But dont mention Commission. On Wed[nesday] go Sir Harry¹ & after speech like his say ‘we’re cousins & ought to befreind one another & we are sorry unasked’ — Never be out at night — Dont be dissipated — dine between 4 & 5 e’er you go out — then Louisa & tea — then Eglint[oune] or rather home — Be easy & independent

I should have mentioned on Sunday last that I drank tea at Sheridan’s, where was a Captain Maud of the Blues² with whom he disputed on the propriety of Theatrical action. He said that an Actor ought to forget himself and the audience entirely, & be quite the real character, and that for his part, he was so much so, that he remembered nothing at all but the Character. This Mr. Maud opposed as wrong; because an Actor in that case would not play so well; as he would not be enough Master of himself. I think he was right. This day I cast my eye on my old laced hat which I saw would raise me a small Supply. No sooner thought than done. Off it went with my sharp Penknife. I carried it to a Jeweller’s³ in Pickadilly, & sold it for 6sh 6d which was a great cause of joy to me. I drank tea at Dempster’s. Erskine and the Ladies were there. I laid open to them my poverty & my Cheese Adventures which they were much entertained with. They sympathised with my distress, and admired my resolution. They ask’d me to dine every day with them, which I refused till after my day of payment, as I would think myself obliged to them for a dinner. I don’t know what to think of my discovering this Affair to them. It was to be sure frank and agreable to do so. But I am too open and have a desire to let all my affairs be known. This I must endeavour to correct. I should have mentioned that I called at Love’s this afternoon. We stayed & supt at Dempster’s. I was rather dull & out of order.

WEDNESDAY 29 DECEMBER

Break[fast] with L[ove] & keep up dig[nity]. Then send him to Demp[ster]’s & go to Ersk[ine] & take him to Sir Harry’s. & to Lady Frances. Say smart to Sir H[arry] — then Eglint[oune] — or rather Gould. then Louisa — then home by Dun’s & get old cloaths coin. Write Father on Thursd[ay] &c. See Sher[idan] & continue shun Kellies.

I had Love at breakfast with me. He called up to my mind many Theatrical ideas of Mr. Garrick, old Cibber¹ &c. I then went to Lady Betty’s. Lord Eglintoune had long been wanting to be acquainted with Captain Andrew. He came there this forenoon and I made them acquainted. My Lord said he fancied I was very busy that I had not time to see my freinds. O yes said I there are many curious Adventures in this town. Says he, I had a very good party with me, last night, amongst whom was Fingal who is realy a highland Claymore.² If you was to scowr him, you would spoil him. We were talking of Gray’s fine Elegy in a Churchyard. Howt cried Fingal to write Panegyrics upon a parcel of damned rascals that did nething but plow the Land & saw corn. He considered that fighters only should be celebrated.³ Erskine talked a little to him; but not much. This day I had no dinner of any kind. At 7 I went back to Lady Betty’s. We went all in her coach a drive to Ludgate hill, to a silk mercer’s, where they bought a gown for Lady Jenny.⁴ We returned and supt. We had a warm dispute about Lady Betty’s stile of living here. It was alledged that she had laid down a plan of living very private, which she had broke thro’; and that therefore she was unhappy, as she aimed at a way of life that she could not afford. She was realy fretted at this, & she looked ugly & ill-natured. I declared that I would either be the most splendid or the most quiet being; for that happiness was seated either at the head or the crampet of the stick of life.⁵ We sat till it was late. When I came home, I felt myself jaded & stupid & uneasy. I was somewhat sick, and I had a headach. I was vexed to find myself deviating from my scheme of sober regularity & being realy a Rake⁶ which I think sitting up a great part of. I made myself easy by thinking that I had just raked three nights during the holidays; and I resolved in time coming never to be out at night, except on some very particular occasion.

THURSDAY 30 DECEMBER

Dress & have Ersk[ine] at Break[fast] — Be serious — then Eglint[oune] & keep up. Then Louisa & be more warm & tender — Then Sher[idan] & mention friday or if it is not fixed, Saturday. leave Ode Tragedy[.]¹ talk of Kellie’s braid² Scotch[,] Intemperate mirth &c. then home at 4 dine, have tea in room[,] lett[er]s & hume all night.³ You have raked 3 days now, be sober.

I had Erskine with me, at Breakfast: After which he & I went to Lady Frances Erskine’s, & then I went to Lady Northumberland’s. In my letter to her, I mentioned to her that I would not chuse to be far from London; and therefore I would chuse no other corps but the Guards or the Blues that is to say the Royal Horse Guards Blue.⁴ Madam (said I) I took the liberty to write you a letter. Sir, said she, I am sorry to find these guards so difficult to be got. I have been speaking to some Officers on that Subject. I imagined that your Father had wrote in such a way to the Duke of Queensberry that he had not been in earnest to get it. But I find that it realy is a very difficult matter. As to the Blues[,] again I should hope that may be easier; and when the Marquis of Granby⁵ comes over I shall apply to him. — So your Ladyship realy intends to take a charge of me. Pray don’t be upon ceremony. I have no title to ask such a thing of you. I realy did not expect that you would have engaged in it. — Sir I should not say so[,] [i]f I did not intend it. Madam I am infinitely obliged to you. — I shall certainly, Sir, recommend you to Lord Granby in the strongest manner; and as the Blues are his own Regiment, I should think that they will not interfere, but allow him to do what he pleases. I hope Sir you are living agreably in the mean time; as you know one must wait for a vacancy. — I am Madam. But I want to be something. — Realy Sir, I think you are right. There’s My Lord Warkworth, as his Regiment is now to be broke, My Lord wrote to him to know if he chose to continue in the Army.⁶ He said by all means. For he could not think of being idle. The Blues Sir will not be so good as the Guards because your Business does not lie in town. But it is a very fine Corps, and you are allways in the Neighbourhood of London. — Madam I shall be happy to be in it. I am just now living very well. Œconomy is all in all for a young man. I have but £200 a year and yet I will be able to do. Your Ladyship’s kindness has brought me into the best company; and nobody knows but I have a thousand a year. — Why Sir, a young man has no occasion for elegant lodgings, a great many cloaths, or being much in taverns — I wish[,] Lady Northumberland[,] I could be of any service to you. It is possible it may be in my power. Well Madam shall I keep up my spirits? By all means. — I was thinking to enlist for five years in India. But that would have been a sad scheme. For at the end, I could but have had a Commission;⁷ and I think Madam I can pass these five years better in London. We laughed heartily at this. I left her, in high glee at my success. This day may show on what a good footing I have the honour to be with this noble Countess and excellent Woman, for whom I have the highest regard & Gratitude.

I called a little at Sheridan’s. He said trifling was the greatest joy in life, provided that the mind was properly prepared to relish it, by hard Study. I then went to Louisa’s. I told her my happy prospect, which she rejoyced much at. She was very gentle & rather low-spirited this day. I was much at home with her. I talked of love connections very freely. We insensibly slid into our own story without mentioning Partys. We said many tender delicate things. I told her that I was thinking according to our Agreement. Well then, said she, I hope you will think as I do. Madam, said I[,] I hope you will think as I do. However we shall see when the time is elapsed.

FRIDAY 31 DECEMBER

Dress — Then break[fast] — & be denied — Then journ & Hume busy till 3 — then Louisa — be warm and press home — & talk gently & Digges-like[.] Acquire an easy dignity & black liveliness of behaviour¹ like him[;] learn as Sher[idan] said to speak slow & softly — See not Kellies today. At 6 — Sher[idan]’s — Be like Sr. Rich[ard] Steele. Think on Prologue,² & of being in the Blues & so pushing your fortune fine. Write to Sommerville about Kirk³ — Study calm & deliberate.

I waited on Louisa. The conversation turned upon love, whether we would or not. She mentioned one consequence that in an affair of gallantry might be troublesom. I suppose Madam said I — you mean if a third person should be interested in the affair. Why to be sure, if such a person should appear, he must be taken care of. For my own part, I have the strongest principles of that kind. Well Sir said She, with a sweet complacency. But we wont talk any more on the Subject. I then went to Sheridan’s upon an invitation to drink tea & spend the evening & hear a reading of the Discovery[,] a new Comedy written by Mrs. Sheridan. He & She read alternately. I liked it much & was well entertained. Mrs. Cholmondeley was there[,] also a Captain Jephthson[,]⁴ a lively little fellow and the best mimic in the world. [A]lso Colonel Irwin⁵ a genteel well-bred pretty man. He told us some little storys, very well. We had some other people & with an elegant Supper, the Evening went very well on. Indeed, I was this night but a bad member of Society. I was bashfull & silent.