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 BOSWELL A SNOB 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 LETTER TO CHATHAM 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.