CONCIOUSNESS OF ABSURDITYThis was a common attitude. It has been discussed before in these pages with reference to Boswell's biographical method. Boswell even mentions once that he spoke 'with an assumed air of ignorance, to incite him to talk, for which it was often necessary to employ some address.' He realised well enough that he made the best possible foil to Johnson. And if he was able to understand his position in these undignified moments, still more must he have been conscious of it when he allowed his records to be printed many years afterwards in the 'Life.' He tells us as much himself in the Dedication to Sir Joshua Reynolds:
In one respect, this Work will, in some passages, be different from the former. In my 'Tour,' I was almost unboundedly open in my communications, and from my eagerness to display the wonderful fertility and readiness of Johnson's wit, freely shewed to the world its dexterity, even when I was myself the object of it. I trusted that I should be liberally understood, as knowing very well what I was about, and by no means as simply unconscious of the pointed effects of the satire. I own, indeed, that I was arrogant enough to suppose that the tenour of the rest of the book would sufficiently guard me against such a strange imputation. But it seems I judged too well of the world; for, though I could scarcely believe it, I have been undoubtedly informed, that many persons, especially in distant quarters, not penetrating enough into Johnson's character, so as to understand his mode of treating his friends, have arraigned my judgement, instead of seeing that I was sensible of all that they could observe.
It is related of the great Dr. Clarke, that when in one of his leisure hours he was unbending himself with a few friends in the most playful and frolicksome manner, he observed Beau Nash approaching; upon which he suddenly stopped. 'My boys (said he) let us be grave: here comes a fool.' The world, my friend, I have found to be a great fool, as to that particular, on which it has become necessary to speak very plainly. I have, therefore, in this Work been more reserved; and though I tell nothing but the truth, I have still kept in my mind that the whole truth is not always to be exposed. This, however, I have managed so as to occasion no diminution of the pleasure which my Book should afford; though malignity may sometimes be disappointed of its gratifications.
Boswell's statement speaks for itself. He realised as well as anyone his own vanity and affectation. It had been necessary when writing Johnson's 'Life' to apply the searching light of truth indiscriminately. Boswell had not flinched from applying it to himself: on the contrary it amused him to do so. He enjoyed his own absurdities as he enjoyed those of Johnson himself and of every other figure portrayed with good-humoured ridicule in the course of his great book. Boswell, we may be sure, laughed wherever his readers may laugh: indeed his readers laugh at all only because he himself laughed so whole-heartedly.
Assuredly the laughter which comes when the searching light is turned inwards is not without a lasting effect. The desire for dignity in some measure CANDOUR VICTORIOUS is with most men almost an instinct. It is rare for a man to perceive that he has been ridiculous without a blush, even though he smile; and the result of such perception is almost invariably preventive; the absurdity must not be repeated. Boswell was able to laugh at himself more whole-heartedly than the majority. But the mere fact of looking inwards with the seeing glance was certain to arrest him in moments of absurdity; and the necessity, as it appeared to him, of writing out an account of himself in the most undignified situations made his realisation more vivid and the inevitable tendency more sure.
And so, in the end, the truth of Boswell, his innate and unquenchable candour, not only won a victory, but spoiled the enemy. We may observe, if we care to, that the natural development has taken place. Much of the old affectation has disappeared. Boswell, to the last, is still tempted to give rein to that 'warm imagination'; but now as a rule the impulse is checked with a smile by a moment of self-consciousness. The development is clearly to be seen in the 'Letters to Temple,' and one instance will suffice to illustrate his attitude. Boswell, when telling of his intention of visiting Auchinleck, for the purpose related before in these pages of choosing a minister for the parish, cannot refrain from exclaiming in the old manner, 'Only think, Temple, how serious a duty I am about to discharge!' But then comes the inward glance and Boswell laughs:
I, James Boswell, Esq.—you know what vanity that name includes!—I have promised to come down on purpose, and his Honour's goodness is gratefully acknowledged.
Boswell was not systematic in his self-examination; but he came to know himself with a truer judgment than most men have where self is concerned. His principles had been ill carried out; his ideals had not been comprehensive. He had neglected the personal discipline which we look to see in men of power and in men who have accomplished important matters; he had neglected to train his mind to deal with all the problems of life. His grasp upon the whole scheme of things was feeble, as his control of himself was limited. And yet this knowledge of self with the good-humoured laugh—and it was not unaccompanied by fervent regret for his weakness, and anxious piety—this knowledge, which is the key to all right knowing, was a fitting achievement for one whose predominant interest was Human Nature, and whose prevailing passion was Truth.
[1:] Boswell's literary executors were Temple, Malone, and Sir William Forbes. 'The three persons,' says Dr. Rogers, 'nominated as literary executors did not meet, and the entire business of the trust was administered by Sir William Forbes, Bart., who appointed as his law-agent Robert Boswell, Writer to the Signet, cousin-german of the deceased. By that gentleman's advice Boswell's manuscripts were left to the disposal of his family, and it is believed that the whole were immediately destroyed. The Commonplace-book escaped, having been accidentally sold among the printed books.'
I believe there is still at Auchinleck the manuscript of a diary and some letters, but I have not been permitted to see them. Undoubtedly Boswell must have left far more than these.