The portion of Boswell's career which we have been relating up to this
point gives rise by natural sequence to the discussion of one or two
interesting questions about his personality. We must know the part
played in the main theme by his peculiar qualities. We must notice how
they seem to assist or to impede his particular faculty for biography.
Allusion has already been made to the reasons for which Boswell was
attracted by two great men, Dr. Johnson and General Paoli. We must
see now in general the reason of that intimacy which he took care to
cultivate with a large number of distinguished men.
Boswell, there can be no doubt, liked men in some way because they
were distinguished. We must remember that the judgments of the world
were always very real standards to him. If a man were great, he must
be somehow good; and to be the friend of such a man, that was good
too. It is not that Boswell judged of characters wholly by success.
We may see that as he grew older he judged them more and more by
the Johnsonian morality. He grew less tolerant of heresy under the
influence of his moral guide. Hence the dislike of Gibbon:--'He is an
ugly, affected, disgusting fellow, and poisons our Literary Club to
me.' Johnson probably shared this feeling and undoubtedly shared the
reasons for it, which Boswell expresses in Johnsonian phrases: 'I
think it is right that as fast as infidel wasps or venomous insects,
whether creeping or flying, are hatched, they should be crushed.' This
was said in reference to Gibbon's book; the sentiments were extended
to Adam Smith. 'Murphy says that he has read thirty pages of Smith's
"Wealth," but says that he shall read no more: Smith too is now of
our Club. It has lost its select merit.' Personal antipathy in the one
case and ignorance of economics in the other need not surprise us. But
it comes as a shock, nevertheless, to discover Boswell's views upon
the two men who were, intellectually, the most distinguished of his
contemporaries. The Doctor's prejudices may have much to do with it.
Boswell records a similar judgment in the 'Tour to the Hebrides':
'Infidelity in a Highland gentleman appeared to me peculiarly
offensive. I was sorry for him as he had otherwise a good character.'
And yet he was probably always as he was in the early years far more
tolerant than Johnson. There is an instructive passage also in the
'Tour to the Hebrides' about Hume. Johnson was talking about Hume's
infidelity: 'He added something much too rough, both as to Mr. Hume's
head and heart, which I suppress. Violence is, in my opinion, not
suitable to the Christian cause. Besides I always lived on good terms
with Mr. Hume, though I have frankly told him I was not clear that it
was right in me to keep company with him.' That he did not condemn the
infidel Hume, shows that Boswell's prejudices were weaker, at least,
than friendship. Boswell, besides, throughout his life gave a
very high value to mere intellectual power. He complained of 'dull
provinciality' in Scotland, because the people of Edinburgh were less
intelligent than the Londoners. His love of London was founded upon
the need he felt of conversing with clever people; and this need
became in him with maturity, not weaker, as in most cases, but
stronger.
In these early years Boswell was glad to make a friend of any
particularly intelligent person, and his acquaintances included
characters widely differing--Hume and Rousseau, Johnson and Lord
Hailes, Wilkes and Paoli. Boswell clearly had pleasure in the society
of them all; he did not, like Johnson, condemn them to a place beyond
the range of his acquaintance; these men were specimens of human
nature worthy to be studied; he saw some good in all of them. There
is a characteristic passage in the 'Life' about the meeting of Johnson
and Wilkes which illustrates the attitude:
My desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every
description had made me, much about the same time, obtain an
introduction to Dr. Samuel Johnson and to John Wilkes, Esq.
Two men more different could perhaps not be selected out of
all mankind. They have even attacked one another with
some asperity in their writings; yet I lived in habits of
friendship with both. I could fully relish the excellence of
each; for I have ever delighted in that intellectual chymistry
which can separate good qualities from evil in the same
person.
He looked upon men much as we look upon works of art, distinguishing
that which, as art, has merit, and crediting with a certain value
every design or idea which has been executed well, but attaching
ourselves more particularly to a few rare objects which have some
special significance or appeal for our own nature. Johnson and Paoli
had this appeal for Boswell. Wilkes and Hume attracted him more
because they were interesting individuals for whom, though he really
disapproved of them, he might retain some slight affection because
they were representative men. He might dislike the things they
represented, but like them in spite of this: like them, one might
almost say, for representing something.
With Hume, for instance, he had a considerable friendship at one time.
He was of course, an individual to be studied; to Temple, Boswell
related his conversations much as he recorded those of Johnson and
Paoli. But he did not see him merely because he was interested; he
liked him too: 'David is really amiable; I always regret to him his
unlucky principles and he smiles at my faith.' It is probable that as
he grew older Boswell grew less tolerant. He was always somewhat of an
experimentalist, interested in various sides of life and fitting one
or another to his own case; but though he became with maturity more
definitely attached to the conventional Christianity, to 'belief,'
as he termed it, as opposed to 'infidelity,' and less tolerant of the
people who held different views, he never hated a man for being a Whig
or an atheist as Johnson did.
Interest and affection: these, then, are real motives with Boswell
for seeking as he did the company of distinguished men. The question,
however, of a further motive--of the snobbishness in Boswell's
nature--still remains.
Boswell himself was well aware of a certain 'propensity in his
disposition,' of a particular pleasure from the society of the great
and a desire which he had to form friendships among them; he knew too
that his behaviour was condemned by many of his contemporaries. In the
'Tour to the Hebrides'[1] he has given his own account and explanation
of his conduct:
My fellow-traveller and I talked of going to Sweden; and,
while we were settling our plan, I expressed a pleasure in
the prospect of seeing the king. Johnson: 'I doubt, Sir, if
he would speak to us.' Colonel McLeod said, 'I am sure
Mr. Boswell would speak to _him_.' But, seeing me a little
disconcerted by his remark, he politely added, 'and with
great propriety.' Here let me offer a short defence of that
propensity in my disposition, to which this gentleman alluded.
It has procured me much happiness. I hope it does not deserve
so hard a name as either forwardness or impudence. If I know
myself, it is nothing more than an eagerness to enjoy the
society of men distinguished either by their rank or their
talents, and a diligence to attain what I desire. If a man is
praised for seeking knowledge, though mountains and seas are
in his way, may he not be pardoned, whose ardour, in pursuit
of the same object, leads him to encounter difficulties as
great, though of a different kind?
This defence is characteristic of the manner in which Boswell
consistently treated the world. 'Curiosity,' said Mrs. Thrale,
'carried Boswell farther than it ever carried any mortal breathing. He
cared not what he provoked so as he said what _such a one_ would say
or do.'[2] But the basis of social conventions is a desire to consider
the feelings of others. A person's 'forwardness' and 'impudence' are
judged not so much by his own sentiments as by the effect he produces
upon other people. Boswell pressed an acquaintanceship entirely
because he thought it might be good for himself; he never considered
the views of the acquaintance: 'It has procured me much happiness.'
He did not understand the consequences of this attitude. He was an
intellectual parasite upon society, determined at any cost to feed
upon the good qualities of others, taking where he would, without
caring if he gave. It may possibly be well for the individual that
he should consider himself alone; but society, just because it is
society, must object to the egoist. This Boswell never was able to
understand. His own point of view was concerned with what he could get
from others; and though he was by nature in many ways excellent as
the member of a community, he had no conception of himself in this
capacity. He cared a great deal about his importance, but very little
about his value. He took systematically, he gave at random. Interest
in human beings simply for his own sake because it pleased him[3]:
that is one prime motive which impelled him to seek the acquaintance
of distinguished men.
Boswell, besides this, was essentially a snob. To have pleasure in
the company of distinguished men, not only from a sense of the good
qualities they have, but from a feeling that their greatness adds to
one's position in the esteem of mankind, that is to be a snob. Boswell
had this feeling; he freely admitted it. 'Now, Temple,' he writes,
'can I help indulging my vanity? Sir David Dalrymple says to me in
his last letter, "It gives me much pleasure to think that you have
obtained the friendship of Mr. Samuel Johnson...."' And again:
I am really the great man now. I have had David Hume, in the
forenoon, and Mr. Johnson, in the afternoon, of the same day,
visiting me. Sir John Pringle, Dr. Franklin, and some more
company dined with me to-day; and Mr. Johnson and General
Oglethorpe one day, Mr. Garrick alone another, and David Hume
and some more literati another, dine with me next week. I give
admirable dinners and good claret; and the moment I go abroad
again, which will be in a day or two, I set up my chariot.
This is enjoying the fruit of my labours, and appearing like
the friend of Paoli. By the bye, the Earl of Pembroke and
Captain Meadows are just setting out for Corsica, and I have
the honour of introducing them by a letter to the General.
David Hume came on purpose, the other day, to tell me that the
Duke of Bedford was very fond of my book, and had recommended
it to the Duchess.
'The great man' because he kept the company of great men--that is
what he says, and it is snobbish. His enjoyment of 'the society of
men distinguished by their rank or their talents' depended partly upon
that. He considered this to be a legitimate way of acquiring fame.
The absurdity of Boswell's behaviour in this respect seems all
the more ridiculous from the fact that it was unnecessary. When
he returned from Corsica he had obtained, as we remarked above, a
position of considerable distinction for a young man. He had only
to wait discreetly and carefully and he was certain to obtain the
patronage of the great. But he courted them, on the contrary, with
unheard-of fervour. The climax was reached in a letter to Chatham,
with whom he had an opportunity of corresponding about Corsica.
He writes from the pinnacle of pomposity to descend to the pit
of adulation: 'I only wish that circumstances were such that your
Lordship could have an opportunity of showing the interest you take in
the fate of a people who well deserve the favour of so illustrious a
patron of liberty as your Lordship.' He proceeds by quoting, as the
mediator between the General and Lord Chatham, a letter from Paoli.
There is then an immortal passage in which the underlying egoism, too
little concealed, is yoked with a flattery which could scarcely be
tolerated in Olympia:
Your Lordship applauds my 'generous warmth for so striking
a character as the able chief.' Indeed, my Lord, I have the
happiness of being capable to contemplate with supreme delight
those distinguished spirits by whom God is sometimes pleased
to honour humanity; and as I have no personal favour to ask of
your Lordship, I will tell you with the confidence of one who
does not fear to be thought a flatterer, that your character,
my Lord, has filled many of my best hours with that noble
admiration which a disinterested soul can enjoy in the bower
of philosophy.
Then follows an account of Boswell's plan for his book about Corsica;
and finally his personal vanity leaps over every barrier.
As for myself, to please a worthy and respected father, one of
our Scotch judges, I studied law, and am now fairly entered to
the bar. I begin to like it. I can labour hard; I feel myself
coming forward, and I hope to be useful to my country. Could
your Lordship find time to honour me now and then with a
letter? I have been told how favourably your Lordship has
spoken of me. To correspond with a Paoli and a Chatham is
enough to keep a young man ever ardent in the pursuit of
virtuous fame.
This letter illustrates much of Boswell's attitude towards the great,
and it will be necessary to refer to it again in that connection; it
shows, at least, how earnestly Boswell desired the friendship of the
great man, and what a thrill of pleasure those letters from Chatham
must have given him.
However much we may dislike this propensity of Boswell's disposition,
while admitting that it is unpleasant in itself, although we would not
and could not have Boswell without it, there is no reason to see in
much of it a blacker vice than merely the ignorance of how to behave.
And it was connected as we have shown with feelings not entirely
selfish. But of the flagrant self-advertisement to which we have
referred above no such agreeable things may be said. It is condemnable
without compensation as an obtrusive egoism and foolish vanity. It
must be written down frankly on the debit side of Boswell's peculiar
genius, and it was as much opposed to the proper exercise of his
biographical talents as to his more practical career.
* * * * *
We are forced to wonder, and it is important that we should decide,
whether in spite of his immoderate self-centredness Boswell was
capable of acting without considering his own advantage in the
interest of others. Had he, in the first place, any real care for the
cause of Corsican liberty?
It is often far from easy to discover what Boswell's feelings were,
because the balance between sentiment and expression was with him very
ill-adjusted. By prolonged study of the Boswellian extravagances we
may come to perceive, as we think, how much Boswell really felt;
but even so it is hardly possible to explain any valid reason for
judgments of this nature. Boswell was often guilty of extravagance;
but it would be as false to believe that he felt none of the zeal he
talks about so easily, as to believe that he felt as much as he says.
He undoubtedly exaggerated, but he probably never made an absolute
misstatement.
There is a passage of great enthusiasm for the Corsicans in a letter
to Johnson:[4] 'Shall they not rise in the great cause of liberty, and
break the galling yoke? And shall not every liberal soul be warm for
them?' Boswell's heart must have been warm when he wrote that: but we
are unfortunately still left in doubt by an anti-climax: 'No! while I
live, Corsica and the cause of the brave islanders shall ever employ
much of my attention, shall ever interest me in the sincerest manner.'
The letter in which these quotations occur is dated April 26, 1768; it
is possible that Boswell's ardour had begun to cool by that time
and that the cause of liberty, though it might 'employ much of his
attention' was less vital to him than he imagined. The 'Tour to
Corsica,' however, gives an impression of genuine interest and
sympathy with the Corsicans. Boswell seems to have liked very well
these simple folk, who appreciated more readily than his countrymen
the natural gaiety and good humour of his spirits.[5] How different is
his attitude in the 'Tour to the Hebrides' towards the Scots! We must
remember too that Boswell, whatever may have been his motives, did
much in England and Scotland to help the Corsicans. Besides publishing
his book, which was of value to their cause, he raised a subscription
and sent out £700 worth of ordnance.[6] He also collected and
published a volume of 'British Essays in favour of the Brave
Corsicans,' some of which he himself wrote.
Boswell had in fact a real generosity of character; he hated anything
mean, and expressed himself as anxious to cure his own 'narrowness.'
He could be kind to his friends and was willing to lend money. He
was interested as a lawyer in the decisions of the courts and readily
bestowed his sympathy. On behalf of a certain Dr. Dodd, a divine who
was under sentence of death for forgery, he wrote to Dr. Johnson: 'If
for ten righteous men the Almighty would have spared Sodom, shall
not a thousand acts of goodness done by Dr. Dodd counterbalance one
crime?' And Dr. Johnson afterwards used his pen in Dr. Dodd's service.
On another occasion he appealed for his friend's assistance in the
case of a Scotch schoolmaster--a client of Boswell's, who had been
'deprived of his office for being somewhat severe in the chastisement
of his scholars': Boswell in his letter to Johnson seems to have at
heart both the interests of the schoolmaster and the principle of
corporal punishment. For his friend Temple he more than once went
out of his way to obtain some favour. He treated his tenants with the
greatest consideration, and even made special provisions in his will
for their future welfare.[7] But Boswell was not one of those who
continually exercise these amiable qualities. It is probable
indeed that, had he tried, he would have met with more rebuffs than
encouragement. To be flagrantly kind with any success requires a good
deal of cunning, and of that useful quality Boswell had extremely
little: he was likely to appear in any good work more meddlesome than
great-hearted. But if with him care for the happiness of others
was not the first consideration, he was at bottom a sympathetic,
kind-hearted man, and capable of generous actions.
It is very important that we should bear this in mind about Boswell.
Those who are gifted with powers of expression are often in one sense
primarily egoists--more so than other men because they are apt to
become more completely absorbed--and Boswell, as we have shown, was
not without his portion of egoism; but there may be a place in the
lives of such men for unselfish feelings, and if we may think that
Boswell had his due share of them we may judge less harshly in him the
egoism which we cannot admire.
* * * * *
Boswell, as we have seen, had already at the age of twenty-seven made
a bid for renown. He was anxious to shine in more lights than one. It
was not mere social success or literary fame that he wanted: he had
an ardent desire to be successful in his profession. The sphere of
employment which had been chosen for him by his father with his own
sanction was the Scotch Bar, to which he was formally 'called' in
1766.[8] His work seems to have engrossed at once a great deal of his
time. He writes on March 4th, 1767, to Temple:
I am surprised at myself, I already speak with so much ease
and boldness, and have already the language of the bar so much
at command. I have now cleared eighty guineas. My clerk comes
to me every morning at six, and I have dictated to him forty
folio pages in one day. It is impossible to give you an idea
of my present life. I send you one of my law papers, and a
copy of my thesis. I am doing nobly; but I have not leisure
for learning. I can hardly ever answer the letters of my
friends.
This is the letter of a man who finds himself engrossed as well as
busy. The truth is that Boswell was extremely anxious to make a mark
in his profession. Here, as always, he must win approval; he must
become a person to be considered. To this end he succeeded in mixing
himself up with the Douglas Cause, a case concerned with a Scotch
title which was commanding much attention in the summer of 1767.
He seems to have acted as a voluntary counsel to Mr. Douglas the
plaintiff, and was most diligent, even perhaps to excess, in his
interest. In connection with this trial, two small publications
appeared from Boswell's hand. The first of them, 'The Essence of the
Douglas Cause,' is a _précis_ of the whole affair, well arranged and
clearly expressed; it was written with a view to aiding Boswell's
own side in the case,[9] in reply to a pleading from the other side,
'Considerations on the Douglas Cause.' The labour of compiling
this summary must have been very great. Boswell tells us in the
introduction that he was present during the whole deliberation of the
Cause before the Court of Session and took very full notes. It shows,
as Mr. Fitzgerald has remarked, how industrious Boswell could be when
his enthusiasm was aroused.
The other publication, 'Dorando: A Spanish Tale'[10] affects to be
a story about a trial in Spain, but reproduces the characters in
the Douglas case. Under this thin veil approbation and criticism are
distributed to the two parties, and the cause decided. The publication
of 'Dorando,'[11] extracts of which appeared in several of the Scotch
newspapers and were held by some of the Scotch judges to be contempt
of court, was wholly characteristic of Boswell. Whether or no it would
be possible to find in his conduct anything which amounted to a breach
of etiquette, it is clear that a publication of this sort might well
injure his position at the Bar. It is true that the author's name did
not appear, but it was not to be supposed that it would always remain
a secret, and the precaution was probably taken with a view to being
on the right side rather of the law than of the lawyers. Boswell, with
all his wish to win the esteem of men, never understood how easily
the opposite is earned and how harshly a tiny cosmos will punish an
offence against itself. And when the humorous side of things struck
him forcibly he was unable to repress his feelings.
Boswell's behaviour during the Douglas Cause is said to have been
decidedly extravagant. His father was heard to say that 'James had
taken a tout on a new horn,'[12] and a story got about which, though
it may have been false, must have had some relation to the common
conception of Boswell, that when he heard that the House of Lords had
reversed the decision of the Court of Session, he placed himself at
the head of an uproarious mob who broke his father's windows.
There are other indications than the Douglas Cause to show that
Boswell was anxious to be successful in his legal career. It is not to
be thought that he always displayed the energy which he showed at this
time. But he clearly took the trouble, on several occasions recorded
in the 'Life,' to prepare the best arguments he could to support his
case; and if we must suppose that he was as anxious as he represents
himself to be that justice should be done, it is still quite evident
that he hoped to gain some advantage to himself from the assistance
which he solicited and obtained from Johnson, and was glad that the
right should triumph, in part no doubt because it was supported by
James Boswell. In fact it is probable that Johnson's assistance was
of little value. As Boswell says on one occasion, having presented
the written arguments of Johnson without success, 'their Lordships in
general, though they were pleased to call this, "a well-drawn paper,"
preferred the former very inferior petition which I had written; thus
confirming the truth of an observation made to me by one of their
number in a merry mood: "My dear Sir, give yourself no trouble in the
composition of the paper you present to us; for, indeed, it is casting
pearls before swine."'
We shall have to consider when we come to the last years of Boswell's
life the various reasons for his failure at the Bar. But one reason
may be mentioned here because it is so essential a part of his
character that we should do wrong not to have it in mind as we go over
the spectacle of his whole life. Boswell, it must be remembered,
was called to the Scotch Bar; but the society of the Scotch, and
particularly of the Scotch lawyers, was never congenial to him. As
early as March 1767 he writes to Temple: 'It must be confessed that
our Court of Session is not so favourable to eloquence as the English
Courts.' By 1775 he was apparently quite tired of his work; 'On my
arrival here [Edinburgh] I had the pleasure to find my wife and
two little daughters as well as I could wish; but indeed, my worthy
priest, it required some philosophy to bear the change from England
to Scotland. The unpleasing tone, the rude familiarity, the barren
conversation of those whom I found here, in comparison with what I had
left, really hurt my feelings.'
It is probable that Boswell's opinions about the Scotch lawyers were
not entirely concealed from them. And they knew, no doubt, that he had
friends among the Edinburgh players, and may have resented the
fact. 'The Scottish Themis,' says Scott, speaking of his own early
experience, 'is peculiarly jealous of any flirtation with the Muses
on the part of those who have ranged themselves under her banners.' We
may suppose that Boswell's flirtations, with the Muses at all events,
injured his position in legal circles.
The General Assembly [Boswell continues] is sitting, and I
practise at its Bar. There is _de facto_ something low and
coarse in such employment, though on paper it is a Court of
_Supreme Judicature_; but guineas must be had.... To speak
well, when I despise both the cause and the judges, is
difficult; but I believe I shall do wonderfully. I look
forward with aversion to the little, dull, labours of the
Court of Session.
Boswell himself was quite unlike most Scotchmen, and he relates in the
'Life' the remarks upon this subject made by Johnson at various times:
_Johnson_: 'I never say, I do not value Boswell more for being
born to an estate, because I do not care.' _Boswell_: 'Nor for
being a Scotchman.' _Johnson_: 'Nay, Sir, I do value you more
for being a Scotchman. You are a Scotchman without the faults
of a Scotchman. You would not have been so valuable as you
are, had you not been a Scotchman.' And again, when talking of
the Scotch nation, _Johnson_: '_You_ are an exception, though.
Come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there is one
Scotchman who is cheerful.' _Beauclerk_: 'But he is a very
unnatural Scotchman.'
Professor Raleigh has emphasised this point in his delightful manner:
If I had to find a paradox in Boswell, I should find it in
this, that he was a Scot. His character was destitute of all
the vices, and all the virtues, which are popularly, and in
the main rightly, attributed to the Scottish people. The
young Scot is commonly shy, reserved, and self-conscious;
independent in temper, sensible to affront, slow to make
friends, and wary in society. Boswell was the opposite of all
these things. He made himself at home in all societies, and
charmed others into a like ease and confidence. Under
the spell of his effervescent good-humour the melancholy
Highlanders were willing to tell stories of the supernatural.
'Mr. Boswell's frankness and gayety,' says Johnson, 'made
everybody communicative.'
And Boswell himself took no trouble to conceal, but rather published
this truth. He saw very clearly certain qualities in the Scotch
character which he disliked.
It must be remembered, however, that Boswell professed to be in one
sense, perhaps the only right sense, patriotic. He may have hated the
Scotch, but he loved Scotland and loved in particular the home of his
ancestors. If he preferred to live in England, it was a preference
only for the society he found there. During those memorable months
when the great Doctor made his tour in Scotland, Boswell had a real
anxiety that Johnson should get rid of his prejudices and appreciate
the country. He takes the trouble to defend at length Johnson's
'Journey to the Western Islands' from the anger of Scotchmen, but he
does so by asserting that Johnson saw both the good and the bad.
'And let me add' [he says in an extravagant vein] 'that,
citizen of the world as I hold myself to be, I have that just
sense of the merit of an ancient nation, which has been ever
renowned for its valour, which in former times maintained its
independence against a powerful neighbour, and in modern times
has been equally distinguished for its ingenuity and
industry in civilised life, that I should have felt a genuine
indignation at any injustice done to it. Johnson treated
Scotland no worse than he did even his best friends, whose
characters he used to give as they appeared to him, both in
light and shade.'
However Boswell may have had 'that just sense of the merit of an
ancient nation,' it is clear, as we have said, that he disliked very
much his legal work in Scotland. But it must not be thought that he
rapidly became grave and soured by constant irritation. That process
was a slow one in his case. His disposition was too sanguine to feel
very much, as a young man, his disappointments. He did without doubt,
as he grew older, become less frivolous, and more sedate; with this we
must suppose that his marriage in 1769 was in some way connected.
* * * * *
Before we come to discuss the domesticity of Boswell we must consider
for a time those affairs of the heart in which he had such a plentiful
experience.
About these he was as frank as he was about all the subjects which
he discusses in his letters to Temple. We have detailed accounts
(detailed enough, apparently, to offend, unfortunately for our
purpose, the delicate ear of the first editor of the letters) which
describe in several cases the precise nature of Boswell's love or
passion or whatever be the appropriate expression. These accounts
were intentionally complete. The eye of Boswell is fixed upon the
thermometer of his affections to observe and indicate its rise and
fall. Nothing could illustrate the man so well as the attitude which
he here so nakedly revealed, typical entirely of Boswell because it is
so completely self-centred. He lived for his own pleasure and says as
much: 'That pleasure is not the aim but the end of our being, seems to
be philosophically demonstrable. Therefore all the labour and all the
serious business of life should first be considered as means to that
end.'[13] In love he was not less governed by this system than he was
in every other phase of life.
It was at the early age of eighteen when Boswell was still at the
University that the son of Venus came to him upon the first of many
visits. The lady, a Miss W----t, is described as a most desirable
companion; and Cupid in one sense was kind to Boswell--for though his
hope of an ideal future in the company of the beloved, the heiress to
a fortune of thirty thousand pounds, was not destined to be realised,
he was able, if the lady were disinclined to adorn his life, to 'bear
it _æquo animo_, and retire into the calm regions of philosophy.'
The subject of matrimony seems often to have occupied the thoughts
of Boswell. At times the appeal of unmarried life was strong. 'The
bachelor has a carelessness of disposition which pleases everybody,
and everybody thinks him a sort of common good--a feather which flies
about and lights now here, now there.' But the ideal of a winged good
which was to float about thus amiably gave way at times to a more
sedate view of living. 'If you think of the comforts of a home, where
you are a sort of sovereign, the kind endearments of an amiable woman,
who has no wish but to make you happy, the amusement of seeing your
children grow up from infancy to manhood, and the pleasing pride
of being the father of brave and learned men, all which may be the
case--then marriage is truly the condition in which true felicity is
to be found.' In the absence, however, of a felicity which could add
so much comfort and pleasure and so small a burden of responsibility
to his life, Boswell was happy enough, he proceeds to relate, to have
a '_dear infidel_.' That there was no infidelity on the part of this
'charmer' Boswell is able to affirm, while he does not deny that she
has a husband; but though, as he says, 'imagination represented it
just as being fond of a pretty, lively, black little lady, who,
to oblige me, stayed in Edinburgh, and I very genteelly paid her
expenses,' he was glad no doubt that circumstances permitted him to
arrange his pleasures without hypocrisy.
The course of his amour was not destined to run very smoothly. The
ardour of Boswell for the deserted or deserting lady was intermittent
and expensive; it was difficult to be rid of her because the
tendernesses of a farewell upset the unstable balance of Boswell's
susceptibility; 'I was sometimes resolved to let her go, and sometimes
my heart was like to burst within me. I took her dear hand; her eyes
were full of passion, I took her in my arms.' The dramatic moment is
too much for the best-laid plans, and Boswell was grateful, as he
well might be, to find himself free after two months. 'I am totally
emancipated from my charmer, as much as from the gardener's daughter
who now puts on my fire and performs menial offices like any other
wench.' The affair with the gardener's daughter is unfortunately not
related. She is mentioned only this once where Boswell tells us that a
year before this date (March 30, 1767), he had been 'so madly in love
as to think of marrying her.' Two other ladies are mentioned in the
same letter, Miss Bosville and Miss Blair. He thought of the former,
who was his cousin, as a convenient match, but the suit does not
appear to have been prosecuted with much vigour. She was kept, as it
were, in the second line of battle to fill up a gap when an object of
devotion was required. There is another name of the same kind, Zelide,
a Dutch lady whom he met at Utrecht and who appears upon the scene
periodically. Boswell several times threatened to marry her. How many
affairs there were of this class it is difficult to estimate. Exact
information on the subject would be valuable as enabling us to adjust
the proportion of these matters. From isolated remarks referring to
women not elsewhere mentioned, such as 'My Italian angel is constant,'
we might suppose that Boswell conducted his amours on the magnificent
scale of Solomon. But this can hardly have been the case.
Miss Blair was a Scotch heiress whose estate was not far from
Auchinleck. Boswell's father was in favour of the match, which would
have been in every way desirable, particularly so if it be considered
appropriate that the young lady was in love with Boswell. The
initial stages were highly propitious. Miss Blair with her mother
was persuaded, without great difficulties we may suppose, to stay at
Auchinleck, where Boswell in the 'romantic groves' of his ancestors
'adored her like a divinity.' The heir whose 'grand object is the
ancient family of Auchinleck--a venerable and noble principle' intends
to carry off the 'neighbouring princess' by assault rather than siege,
and in the pursuit of romance allows no time for love to languish. An
emissary[14] is despatched, no other than the faithful Temple, who is
at once to blow the trumpet as a herald, and as a spy to observe the
enemy's fortifications. 'Praise me for my good qualities--you know
them.' These are the instructions. Romance is to be fed by mystery and
the chase encouraged by the elusiveness of the quarry. 'But talk also
how odd, how inconstant, how impetuous, how much accustomed to women
of intrigue. Ask gravely, Pray don't you imagine there is something of
madness in that family?' A tinge of insanity may be a pleasing dash
of colour in the hero; or the suggestion may draw the attention of the
fair one to extravagances which are to be noted as the fantasies of
genius. The ultimate halo, the crown of glory, is reserved for the
explorer of distant lands and the friend of men distinguished in a
continent. 'Talk of my various travels, German princes--Voltaire and
Rousseau.' The effect upon the audience of this elaborate comedy is to
be duly registered in order that the manager may arrange the sequence
appropriately and the principal actor appear in splendour at the
dramatic moment. 'Observe her well. See how amiable! Judge if she
would be happy with your friend. Think of me as the great man at
Adamtown--quite classical too; study the mother. Remember well what
passes.... Consider what a romantic expedition you are on; take
notes.' By the final injunction, the biographer's own peculiar weapon
is to be directed at the prize and the lady captured by a sheet of
memoranda.
An accident, however, occurs and trivial circumstance is swollen
to importance by the fever of impatience. The fervour of a suitor's
letter demands immediate reply; but the letter remains for some days
in the post. Letter follows letter, and the perturbation increases
when jealousy summons the image of a yellow nabob. The actor doubts if
he has chosen the proper _rôle_, and fears the effect of his
'Spanish stateliness.' But the ardent lover is able to exclaim, 'I am
entertained with this dilemma like another chapter in my adventures,'
and consolation comes in a letter from the Signora 'written with all
the warmth of Italian affection.' Finally the matter is explained and
there is the pleasure of restoring harmony. Lucky that these
matters run never smoothly, for there will be further opportunity of
experiencing the tortured joy of a quarrel and the supreme delight of
reconciliation. An uninteresting interval is amused by a renewal of
intimacy with the 'dear infidel' before another coolness is arranged.
The self-possession of the lady now provokes 'a strange sultanish
letter, very cold and very formal,' and after an absence of three
weeks the suitor pays an eminently agreeable visit to the prospective
bride, though still apparently in a rather sultanish mood: 'I am
dressed in green and gold. I have my chaise in which I sit alone with
Mr. Gray, and Thomas rides by me in a claret-coloured suit with a
silver-laced hat.' The final joy was however withheld. 'The princess
and I have not yet made up our quarrel, she talks lightly of it.'
The adorer is prepared conditionally to soar to the last heights of
adoration. 'If she feels as I wish her to do, I shall adore her while
my blood is warm': but the philosopher is determined to escape the
inconvenience of a wounded heart: 'I shall just bring myself, I hope,
to a good, easy tranquillity.' The 'princess' by this time has ceased
to be a dupe; she may have seen that the courtship was arranged to
give the colouring of romance to conventional matrimony, and alter the
pompous comedy of surrender to a serious farce for one party and for
the other probably to a serious tragedy. Her manner in any case became
more reserved: 'She refused sending me a lock ... and she says very
cool things upon that head.' The burning lover begins to congratulate
himself upon escape from so unsatisfying a mate, and the beautiful
princess is discovered to be a jilt. 'Wish me joy, my good friend, of
having discovered the snake before it was too late.... After this I
shall be upon my guard against ever indulging the least fondness for
a Scot lass; I am a soul of a more Southern frame. I may perhaps be
fortunate enough to find an Englishwoman who will be sensible of my
merits and will study to please my singular humour.' Zelide and Miss
Bosville are mentioned in the same letter, the former to illustrate
the truth that 'an old flame is easily rekindled' and the latter as a
possibility to be kept in mind.
But a volatility amazing even in Boswell produces on the following day
a letter which is full of the charms of Miss Blair. The more violent
the quarrel the more pleasing the peace-making. A meeting is arranged
at Edinburgh; a declaration is made and the now enthusiastic suitor
reports, 'I ventured to seize her hand. She is really the finest woman
I ever saw.' The 'princess' however is still reserved, and determined
efforts have to be made at the theatre.
Next evening I was at the play with them; it was 'Othello.'
I sat close behind the princess, and at the most affecting
scenes I pressed my hand upon her waist; she was in tears and
rather leaned to me. The jealous Moor described my very soul.
I often spake to her of the torment she saw before her.
But even after this touching scene there is cause for disquiet.
'Still,' he says, 'I thought her distant, and still I felt uneasy.'
The encouragement however was sufficient to give confidence to the
attack, and there follows a _tête-à-tête_ in which 'pleasure from
the intimacy of often squeezing and kissing her fine hand, while she
looked at me with those beautiful black eyes,' was somewhat darkened
by a disconcerting surprise. 'I then asked her to tell me if she had
any particular liking for me. What think you, Temple, was her answer?
"No; I really have no particular liking for you; I like many people as
well as you--I like Jeany Maxwell better than you."' Consolation must
now be sought where love is denied. _Boswell_: 'If you should happen
to love another, will you tell me immediately and help me to make
myself easy?' _Princess_: 'Yes, I will.' But the lady's sympathy shows
a want of imagination which is highly unsatisfying. _Boswell_: 'I
must, if possible, endeavour to forget you. What would you have me
do?' _Princess_: 'I really don't know what you should do.'
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.'
The realities were hardly so elevated as these dreams, for in the
following spring (1768), it is Zelide again, and not she alone.
'Zelide may have had her faults but is she always to have them? May
not time have altered her for the better as it has altered me? But you
will tell me that I am not so greatly altered, as I have still many
unruly passions. To confess to you at once Temple, I have, since my
last coming to town been as wild as ever.' But flowers were to be
fresh at last in the month of August. 'I am exceedingly lucky in
having escaped the insensible Miss Bosville and the furious Zelide,
for I have now seen the finest creature that ever was formed, _la
belle Irlandaise_. Figure to yourself, Temple, a young lady just
sixteen, formed like a Grecian nymph, with the sweetest countenance
full of sensibility....' Everything was favourable. 'Here every flower
is united.' The diplomat who had been fatigued before by the restraint
of a wise cautiousness is resolved that this time there shall be
no reserve. 'Ah, my friend, I am now as I ought to be; no reserved
prudent conduct as with Miss Bosville. No! all youthful, warm,
natural, in short, all genuine love.' And the ardent hunter seems to
have been more successful than the wily angler. 'I repeated my fervent
passion to her again and again; she was pleased and I could swear
that her little heart beat. I carved the first letter of her name on a
tree; I cut off a lock of her hair, _male pertinax_. She promised
not to forget me, nor to marry a lord before March.' Moreover, the
unspoilt joy of advance without contest was more pleasant than the
doubts and hopes of expectation, while a puritanical idealism and
the solemnity of an oath were a welcome change for less spiritual
delights.
This is the most agreeable passion I ever felt; sixteen,
innocence, and gaiety make me quite a Sicilian swain. Before I
left London I made a vow in St. Paul's Church that I would
not allow myself in licentious connections of any kind for six
months, I am hitherto firm to my vow, and already feel myself
a superior being ... in short, Maria has me without any rival;
I do hope the period of my perfect felicity, as far as this
state can afford, is now in view.
Whether this 'perfect felicity' was attained and how long it lasted we
do not know. Maria no doubt had her day like the others; the sequel to
the vow in St. Paul's we may conjecture. Boswell, if his name endured
for no other talents, would remain with us for ever as an incomparable
genius for reviving affection. In December we learn: 'Miss Blair is
Miss Blair still,'--still a fit subject for this curious pastime. 'I
was two or three times at Adamtown, and, upon my word, the old flame
was kindled.' Miss Blair apparently had been piqued because her suitor
had made such a joke of his love for the heiress in every company.
'Temple, to a man again in love, this was engaging. I walked whole
hours with the princess; I kneeled; I became truly amorous.' These
brief sentences adequately describe the last recorded love-scene. If
Boswell corresponded with Temple between December 1768 and May
1770 the letters have been lost; and so the outrageous story ends
abruptly--and it is fortunate perhaps for the readers of this book,
for it is a story so fascinating and so absurd and so richly human
that no part of it can be omitted.
Boswell in fact was destined to be married to his cousin, Miss
Montgomerie. The Montgomeries were an aristocratic family related to
Lord Eglinton, and Boswell was proud of the connection: he speaks in
a published pamphlet of 'having the honour and happiness to be married
to his Lordship's relation, a true Montgomerie.' We know very little
about Mrs. Boswell. Johnson's curt judgment in a letter to Mrs. Thrale
is probably right in placing her with the great bulk of mediocre
humanity: 'Mrs. B---- has the mien and manners of a gentlewoman; and
such a person and mind as would not be in any place either admired
or contemned. She is in a proper degree inferior to her husband:
she cannot rival him, nor can he ever be ashamed of her.' But if
undistinguished, as in Johnson's view a good wife should be, the lady
had some excellent qualities; and Johnson himself would have been the
first to praise them. If he urged Boswell on more than one occasion to
be considerate of his home, it was because he knew that the home was
both pleasant and valuable to his friend: 'I need not tell you what
regard you owe to Mrs. Boswell's entreaties; or how much you ought to
study the happiness of her who studies yours with so much diligence,
and of whose kindness you enjoy such good effects.' Boswell, too,
loudly sings the praise of his wife: 'I am fully sensible,' he writes
to Temple, 'of my happiness in being married to so excellent a woman,
so sensible a mistress of a family, so agreeable a companion, so
affectionate and peculiarly proper helpmate for me.' After her death
he writes: 'I had no occasion almost to think concerning my family,
and every particular was thought of by her better than I could'; and
he refers to her in the 'Life of Johnson' as 'my very valuable wife,
and the very affectionate mother of my children, who, if they inherit
her good qualities, will have no reason to complain of their lot.'
That Mrs. Boswell had in abundance the matronly virtues is
sufficiently clear. She had besides considerable intellectual gifts.
Boswell calls her, 'A lady of admirable good sense and quickness of
understanding'; he kept a common-place book, 'Uxoriana,' to preserve
her witty sayings, and after her death regretted her 'admirable
conversation.' From her own expressed opinion of her husband's
friendship with Dr. Johnson we are obliged to think well of her
intelligence: it was a female opinion, as Boswell remarks, with
something of resentment for the intrusion of this uncomfortable guest:
'His irregular hours and uncouth habits, such as turning the candles
with their heads downwards, when they did not burn bright enough, and
letting the wax drop upon the carpet, could not but be disagreeable to
a lady.' And no doubt she failed to appreciate the devotion of Boswell
to this ungainly and unpleasing animal. But her observation, in the
manner of the times, is admirably pointed: 'I have seen many a bear
led by a man, but I never before saw a man led by a bear.'
The marriage took place in the autumn of 1769; Boswell was then
twenty-nine years of age. The situation is summed up in his own
remarks in the _London Magazine_ for April 1781:
After having for many years cherished a system of marrying
for money, I at last totally departed from it, and married for
love. But the truth was that I had not been careful enough to
weed my mind; for while I cultivated the plant of interest,
love all the time grew up along with it and fairly got the
better. Naturally somewhat singular, independent of any
additions which affectation and vanity may perhaps have made,
I resolved to have a more pleasing species of marriage than
common, and bargained with my bride that I should not be
bound to live with her longer than I really inclined; and
that whenever I tired of her domestic society, I should be at
liberty to give it up.
That Boswell was always fond of his wife is clear enough. 'Eleven
years have elapsed and I have never yet wanted to take advantage of my
stipulated privilege.' He never speaks of her without affection,
and was deeply distressed by her death in 1789. But for how long he
continued to love her fervently it is difficult to tell; not, one
would suppose, for a great length of time, or he could hardly have
written in the _London Magazine_: 'Whatever respect I may have for the
institution of marriage, and however much I am convinced that it upon
the whole produces rational happiness, I cannot but be of the opinion
that the passion of love has been improperly feigned as continuing
long after the conjugal knot has been tied.' Nor, if Boswell had
continued to love his wife passionately, would he have found it
disagreeable to return to Edinburgh, after visits to London.
But Boswell no doubt wanted to be a faithful husband: 'I can unite
little fondnesses with perfect conjugal love.'[15] His idea of
fidelity would seem to involve no kind of restriction upon his natural
inclinations except in so far as that he should appear to be a good
husband in the eyes of the world and particularly of his wife. However
sensible this view may have been, it was not such as commonly finds
favour among the female sex. But he was undoubtedly in his own view a
faithful husband and he had really at heart the welfare of his wife.
'Upon the whole I do believe,' he says, 'I make her very happy.'[16]
[Footnote 1: _Tour to the Hebrides_, September 17.]
[Footnote 2: _Autobiography, Letters, &c., of Mrs. Piozzi_,
ii, 124.]
[Footnote 3: Perhaps the best evidence of all for this quality
is Boswell's habit of attending executions (mentioned several
times in the _Life_ and also in the _Life of Reynolds_, by
Leslie and Taylor), and his acquaintance with Mrs. Rudd, a
notorious criminal.]
[Footnote 4: _Life of Johnson_, ii, 59. This letter is an
admirable instance of Boswell's affected manner of expressing
real feelings.]
[Footnote 5: _Life of Johnson_, ii, 3, note 1.]
[Footnote 6: _Letters to Temple_, p. 126.]
[Footnote 7: _Boswelliana_, p. 186.]
[Footnote 8: _Life of Johnson_, ii, 20.]
[Footnote 9: Fitzgerald's _Life of Boswell_, i, 111.]
[Footnote 10: Boswell's authorship proved by _Letters to
Temple_, p. 89.]
[Footnote 11: Fitzgerald's _Life of Boswell_, i, 113.]
[Footnote 12: Fitzgerald's _Life of Boswell_, i, 116.]
[Footnote 13: _London Magazine_, 1, 40.]
[Footnote 14: Temple, it appears, was promised payment for
his services: 'You shall have consultation guineas, as an
ambassador has his appointments.' This seems to imply more
than the mere travelling expenses which Dr. Rogers suggests as
an explanation.]
[Footnote 15: _Letters to Temple_, p. 159.]
[Footnote 16: _Ib._ p. 137.]