BOOKS OF THE WEEK

The Liberated Ego

By TOM HOPKINSON BOSWELL in his journals has invented, it seems, a new technique of writing. This is to allow the " ego "—that inflated image of himself which each one carries round through life, and whose eager promptings we are at such pains to conceal—to do the hard work of creation. The critical self, which normally steps in at once to tone down the ego's vaunting fantasies and delusions, is confined to arranging the material which the ego has supplied. By this means, the reader is presented with each scene, not as a censored, desiccated extract, but exactly as it happens, with Boswell's succession of feelings each in its full force and freshness.

What destroys the ordinary—even talented—journal or book of reminiscences is not that the author keeps himself in the foreground. Unless he does so, his book lacks character and can survive for only secondary reasons—such as historical or social interest. What dissipates interest almost invariably is the author's presentation of himself as a person of a particular kind, coherent, reasonable, sensitive, modest and reserved—or, it may be, reckless, dashing, open-handed.

From such tedious consistencies Boswell's method sets him free. Because his self-absorption is complete, he is just as interested in how he gets out of fighting a duel—and, having got out, wonders if he ought not to have fought it—as he could have been in any glorious encounter. Moreover, as compared with his London Journal of 1762-3, and his life in Holland of 1763-4, Boswell in the summer of 1764 has adopted self- development as a principle, abandoning earlier attempts to model himself on more sombre and dignified characters.

" I must be Mr. Boswell of Auchinleck, and no other. Let me make him as perfect as possible. . . . I recollected my moments of despair when I did not value myself at sixpence, because, forsooth, I was but an individual, and an individual is nothing in the multitude of beings. Whereas 1 am all to myself."

In this, the third volume* of what may be called " the new Boswell," the author, aged twenty-four, has left Holland and set oqt on the Grand Tour of Europe. He records his pro- gress,, as " Baron Boswell," through the Little Courts of Germany with a rotund self:satisfaction, which never prevents reality from being manifest. Vanity, in short, by Boswell's magical system, is compelled to serve truth, not to obscure it.

" The Prince of Baden-Durlach has an order to give. He creates Knights of the Order of Fidelity. They wear a star and a ribbon hanging from their necks. My Lord Wemyss has this order. I fixed my inclination upon it. . . ." [On leaving the Court] " I then took courage and said, ' Sir, I have a favour to ask of you, a very great favour. I don't know whether I should mention it.' I was quite the courtier, for I appeared modest and embarrassed; when in reality was perfectly unconcerned. He said, ' What, Sir ? ' I replied, Your Highness told me that a good gentleman might have your Highness's order. Sir, might I presume to ask you that if I bring you proof of my being a very good gentleman, I may obtain the order ? ' He paused. I looked at him steadily. He answered, ' I shall think of it.' " Boswell never achieved his Order of Fidelity, nor, despite the most cunning manipulations, does he manage to secure an introduction to Frederick the Great. However, behind his progress from Court to Court, he has a quite serious literary purpose. He, an unknown young man, intends to baethe two great intellectual lions of his day, Rousseau and Voltaire. Both

* Boswell on the Grand Tour. Edited bP Frederick A. Pottle. (Heinemann. 25s.)

are in Switzerland. Rousseau is geographically the nearer, and for his meeting with Rousseau, Boswell prepares himself by a careful study of the master's works. This is necessary. because it is not Rousseau's writings which are drawing Boswell across Europe, but the fame those writings have aroused.

An infallible introduction from Rousseau's friend and protector, Earl Marischal, is actually in Boswell's possession. However, with truly heroic vanity, he is resolved not to use it, but to secure a meeting on his own merits. Three times he drafts out the letter which is to effect this end. "It can," he says of the finished product, " neither be abridged nor 'trans- posed, for it is really a masterpiece. I shall ever preserve it as a proof that my soul can be sublime."

Boswell is right. The letter is a masterpiece. It contains no fewer than five separate shafts to bring down the man of genius. " I have heard, Sir, that you are very difficult, that you have refused the visits of several people of the first distinction." . . . . " I present myself, Sir, as a man of singular merit." . . . .." Do you ask if I have recommendations ? Surely you do not need them ? " . . . . " Your writings, Sir, have melted my heart, have elevated my soul, have fired my imagina- tion." . . . . " Though I am only a young man, I have experienced a variety of existence that will amaze you." He adds that Rousseau must not allow his ill-health to prevent the interview, because he, Boswell, " may help you to forget your pains "—and conditions for there being no one else present in the room.

Boswell secures, not one, but several interviews, and he has presented a picture of Rousseau's conversation which is unrivalled, though without ever allowing himself to sink into the background. Indeed it is precisely because he keeps him- self strongly lighted that the picture is so genuine. Anyone but Boswell would have been concerned mainly to catch what the great man said; in so doing would have produced a potted version of views to be found elsewhere. What Boswell gives us is the living creature: Boswell. " I have leanings towards despotism, let me tell you. On our estate, I am like an ancient laird, and I insist on respect from the tenants."

Rousseau. "But when you see an old man with white hair, do you, as a young man, have no feelings at all ? Have you no respect for age ? "

Boswell. " Yes. I have even on many occasions been very affable. I have talked quite freely with the tenants."

Rousseau. "Yes, you forgot yourself, and became a man?' With Voltaire, Boswell repeats his success. Here he makes use of an introduction, but, to atone for this weakness, invites himself to stay the night. On leaving, he writes to Voltaire to congratulate himself on having stood up so well to his formidable adversary.

"I refItct with great satisfaction on my spirited candour when we talked of religion. I told you upon this occasion, Sir, you are one individual and I another.' You may remember that I showed no mean timidity; and while I maintained the immortality of my soul, did I not glow with a fire that had some appearance of being divine ? '

Three months later, having in the meantime received a short, dry, note from Voltaire assuring him of his own " respect and obsequiousness," Boswell replies with a lecture on the nature of the Soul.

Boswell on the Grand Tour is, like the two earlier volumes, admirably produced and edited, with just enough notes and background to make every point clear. Next year, perhaps, we shall be given the second half of his tour: so far as my own taste is concerned, I should look forward with satisfaction to a volume a winter till at least the end of the present century.