Authors, Scottish -- 18th century -- Biography; Biographers -- Great Britain -- Biography; Boswell, James, 1740-1795
It would appear that honour had no escape from such a defeat but in
renewing the encounter. The history of the last period of this wooing,
of the nadir of the wooer's fortunes and his cheerfulness in spite of
repulses, is told to Temple six weeks later. A new rival appears upon
the scene, and there is rumour of an engagement. The rejected suitor
writes to ascertain the truth of this alarming story. But his appeal
is neglected. Dignity now demands that disappointment shall be
concealed, and an alliance is formed with the presumably successful
rival, Sir Alexander Gilmour. 'I endeavoured to laugh off my passion,
and I got Sir Alexander Gilmour to frank a letter to her, which I
wrote in a pleasant strain, and amused myself with the whim.' The lady
now appears in London and at the same moment the Nabob. He too is to
be an ally, and a final scene is arranged. 'We gave our words as men
of honour that we would be honest to each other so that neither should
suffer needlessly; and to satisfy ourselves of our real situation, we
gave our words of honour that we should both ask her this morning, and
I should go first.' The result can hardly have been doubtful. Boswell
tells his adorable princess, 'I have great animal spirits, and bear it
wonderfully well,' and proceeds to write 'A Crambo Song on Losing my
Mistress.'
Although I be an honest laird,
In person rather strong and brawny,
For me the heiress never cared,
For she would have the knight, Sir Sawney.
And when, with ardent vows, I swore,
Loud as Sir Jonathan Trelawney,
The heiress showed me to the door,
And said, she'd have the knight, Sir Sawney.
She told me with a scornful look,
I was as ugly as a tawney;
For she a better fish could hook,
The rich and gallant knight, Sir Sawney.
We might suppose that Boswell in spite of his cheerfulness would
have been at heart rather dejected by these events; but he writes
to Temple, 'My mind is now twice as enlarged as it has been for some
months. You cannot say how fine a woman I may marry; perhaps a Howard
or some other of the noblest in the kingdom.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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