Upon receiving these letters, he, with great caution, quitted Edinburgh, regretted by none but his creditors, who were so exaggerated as to threaten to prosecute him wherever he should be found. But these menaces were never carried into execution, perhaps from the consideration of his indigence, which afforded no probable prospect of their being paid.
Upon his arrival in London, he went to Twickenham, in order to deliver the dutchess of Gordon's letter to Mr. Pope; but that gentleman not being at home, Mr. Boyse never gave himself the trouble to repeat his visit, nor in all probability would Pope have been over-fond of him; as there was nothing in his conversation which any wife indicated the abilities he possessed. He frequently related, that he was graciously received by Sir Peter King, dined at his table, and partook of his pleasures. But this relation, they who knew Mr. Boyse well, never could believe; for he was so abject in his disposition, that he never could look any man in the face whose appearance was better than his own; nor likely had courage to sit at Sir Peter King's table, where every one was probably his superior. He had no power of maintaining the dignity of wit, and though his understanding was very extensive, yet but a few could discover that he had any genius above the common rank. This want of spirit produced the greatest part of his calamities, because he; knew not how to avoid them by any vigorous effort of his mind. He wrote poems, but those, though excellent in their kind, were lost to the world, by being introduced with no advantage. He had so strong a propension to groveling, that his acquaintance were generally of such a cast, as could be of no service to him; and those in higher life he addressed by letters, not having sufficient confidence or politeness to converse familiarly with them; a freedom to which he was intitled by the power of his genius. Thus unfit to support himself in the world, he was exposed to variety of distress, from which he could invent no means of extricating himself, but by writing mendicant letters. It will appear amazing, but impartiality obliges us to relate it, that this man, of so abject a spirit, was voluptuous and luxurious: He had no taste for any thing elegant, and yet was to the last degree expensive. Can it be believed, that often when he had received half a guinea, in consequence of a supplicating letter, he would go into a tavern, order a supper to be prepared, drink of the richest wines, and spend all the money that had just been given him in charity, without having any one to participate the regale with him, and while his wife and child were starving home? This is an instance of base selfishness, for which no name is as yet invented, and except by another poet[2], with some variation of circumstances, was perhaps never practiced by the most sensual epicure.
He had yet some friends, many of the most eminent dissenters, who from a regard to the memory of his father, afforded him supplies from time to time. Mr. Boyse by perpetual applications, at last exhausted their patience; and they were obliged to abandon a man on whom their liberality was ill bestowed, as it produced no other advantage to him, than a few days support, when he returned again with the same necessities.
The epithet of cold has often been given to charity, perhaps with a great deal of truth; but if any thing can warrant us to withhold our charity, it is the consideration that its purposes are prostituted by those on whom it is bestowed.
We have already taken notice of the infidelity of his wife; and now her circumstances were reduced, her virtue did not improve. She fell into a way of life disgraceful to the sex; nor was his behaviour in any degree more moral. They were frequently covered with ignominy, reproaching one another for the acquisition of a disease, which both deserved, because mutually guilty.
It was about the year 1740, that Mr. Boyse reduced to the last extremity of human wretchedness, had not a shirt, a coat, or any kind of apparel to put on; the sheets in which he lay were carried to the pawnbroker's, and he was obliged to be confined to bed, with no other covering than a blanket. He had little support but what he got by writing letters to his friends in the most abject stile. He was perhaps ashamed to let this instance of distress be known to his friends, which might be the occasion of his remaining six weeks in that situation. During this time he had some employment in writing verses for the Magazines; and whoever had seen him in his study, must have thought the object singular enough. He sat up in bed with the blanket wrapt about him, through which he had cut a hole large enough to admit his arm, and placing the paper upon his knee, scribbled in the best manner he could the verses he was obliged to make: Whatever he got by those, or any of his begging letters, was but just sufficient for the preservation of life. And perhaps he would have remained much longer in this distressful state, had not a compassionate gentleman, upon hearing this circumstance related, ordered his cloaths to be taken out of pawn, and enabled him to appear again abroad.
This six weeks penance one would imagine sufficient to deter him for the future, from suffering himself to be exposed to such distresses; but by a long habit of want it grew familiar to him, and as he had less delicacy than other men, he was perhaps less afflicted with his exterior meanness. For the future, whenever his distresses so press'd, as to induce him to dispose of his shirt, he fell upon an artificial method of supplying one. He cut some white paper in slips, which he tyed round his wrists, and in the same manner supplied his neck. In this plight he frequently appeared abroad, with the additional inconvenience of want of breeches.
He was once sent for in a hurry, to the house of a printer who had employed him to write a poem for his Magazine: Boyse then was without breeches, or waistcoat, but was yet possessed of a coat, which he threw upon him, and in this ridiculous manner went to the printer's house; where he found several women, whom his extraordinary appearance obliged immediately to retire.
He fell upon many strange schemes of raising trifling sums: He sometimes ordered his wife to inform people that he was just expiring, and by this artifice work upon their compassion; and many of his friends were frequently surprised to meet the man in the street to day, to whom they had yesterday sent relief, as to a person on the verge of death. At other times he would propose subscriptions for poems, of which only the beginning and conclusion were written; and by this expedient would relieve some present necessity. But as he seldom was able to put any of his poems to the press, his veracity in this particular suffered a diminution; and indeed in almost every other particular he might justly be suspected; for if he could but gratify an immediate appetite, he cared not at what expence, whether of the reputation, or purse of another.
About the year 1745 Mr. Boyse's wife died. He was then at Reading, and pretended much concern when he heard of her death.