The Amenities of Book-Collecting and Kindred Affections

by A. Edward Newton

Again he writes from Edinburgh:—

I have talked a great deal of my sweet little mistress; I am, however, uneasy about her. Furnishing a house and maintaining her with a maid will cost me a great deal of money, and it is too like marriage, or too much a settled plan of licentiousness; but what can I do? I have already taken the house, and the lady has agreed to go in at Whitsuntide; I cannot in honour draw back.... Nor am I tormented because my charmer has formerly loved others. Besides she is ill-bred, quite a rompish girl. She debases my dignity: she has no refinement, but she is very handsome and very lively. What is it to me that she has formerly loved? So have I.

Temple’s letters to Boswell have not been preserved, but he appears to have warned him of the danger of his course, for Boswell comes back with,—

I have a dear infidel, as you say; but don’t think her unfaithful. I could not love her if she was. There is a baseness in all deceit which my soul is virtuous enough to abhor, and therefore I look with horror on adultery. But my amiable mistress is no longer bound to him who was her husband: he has used her shockingly ill; he has deserted her, he lives with another. Is she not then free? She is, it is clear, and no arguments can disguise it. She is now mine, and were she to be unfaithful to me she ought to be pierced with a Corsican poniard; but I believe she loves me sincerely. She has done everything to please me; she is perfectly generous, and would not hear of any present.

Boswell seemed to enjoy equally two very different things, namely, going to church and getting drunk. On Easter Sunday he “attends the solemn service at St. Paul’s,” and next day informs Mr. Temple that he had “received the holy sacrament, and was exalted in piety.” But in the same letter he reports that he is enjoying “the metropolis to the full,” and that he has had “too much dissipation.”

He resolves to do better when his book on Corsica appears, and he has the reputation of a literary man to support. Meanwhile, he confesses:—

I last night unwarily exceeded my one bottle of old Hock; and having once broke over the pale, I run wild, but I did not get drunk. I was, however, intoxicated, and very ill next day. I ask your forgiveness, and I shall be more cautious for the future. The drunken manners of this country are very bad.

Boswell’s affairs with chambermaids, grass widows, and women of the town moved along simultaneously with efforts to land an heiress. He asks Temple to help him in an affair with a Miss Blair. Temple did his best and failed. He reported his failure and Boswell was deeply dejected for five minutes; then he writes: