Chapter XI

The habit which annoyed Mrs. Thrale was necessary to Boswell's conception of his task; it involved what he spoke of as his 'authenticity.'

To understand what he meant by this, an attitude perhaps not only towards himself, but to the public also, since he wished very much that those who read his book should feel that it was true in every detail, we must examine more nearly Boswell's method of carrying out his biographical plan.

It is remarkable that Boswell should have begun his system of recording when quite a young man. A man of forty is more easily forgiven some eccentricity than one of two-and-twenty. Yet we find Boswell, during his travels on the Continent, tablets in hand on his first visit to Paoli, who gives an amusing account of him:

Boswell's method of recording conversations was not completed in these memoranda taken down at the moment. He had, besides these, his journal. It has been remarked already that he began to keep this regularly as early as 1758 during his tour on the Northern Circuit in the company of his father and Lord Hailes, and he tells us something of it at the time of his journey to Greenwich with Johnson in 1763:

I was the more sensible of it (the cold) from having sat up all the night before recollecting and writing in my journal what I thought worthy of preservation; an exertion which, during the first part of my acquaintance with Johnson, I frequently made. I remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being much incommoded in the daytime.

In the 'Tour to Corsica,' also, he tells us:

We have then two processes mentioned by which Boswell recorded conversation: the notes taken down REPORTING CONVERSATION at the moment, and the journal written up at night. The relation of these two—the function which each of them performed—is not difficult to conjecture.

Boswell's object was to get his records written up as soon as possible after the events or conversations which he was describing:

But it is clear enough that the notes which Boswell made at the time must have been very unlike the final form in which he wrote the dialogue. In the course of conversations in which he himself took part, it would have been impossible without shorthand to make so full a record. The kind of notes which Boswell took may be gathered from the following passage:

It would seem then that what was written down during a conversation was far from including every word which was spoken; it was rather an aid, though a very substantial aid, to memory. We may conjecture that the most important expressions were recorded, and the course of the argument indicated, so as to be intelligible to Boswell, but not even to him, perhaps, after a long THE RECORDS interval. He was able to 'keep in view' the 'substance and language.'

To give a full and permanent form to these rough drafts must therefore have been a work of considerable labour; and it is this no doubt that the journal accomplished.

We may see in the 'Life' the traces of two kinds of record. For we have sometimes the actual words of the speakers, but at others only the purport of their remarks. What we should naturally suppose—if this theory of the respective functions of the notes and the journal is correct—that the former came from the journal and the latter from the notes taken down at the moment, or sometimes perhaps shortly afterwards—is confirmed by the fact that, when we have only the less complete account, Boswell very often regrets the neglect of his journal, and talks of presenting such scraps as he has; and on one occasion says:

He was obliged in consequence of his neglect to write the text directly from notes; with their aid he filled in what he could remember; but he dispensed with the intermediate assistance of the journal, and the account is therefore far less full.

Here again he may well have had in mind a process of writing the journal with no notes to help him.

All the original documents from which Boswell compiled the 'Life' are concealed from this generation. There are, however—or at least there were—in existence two of Boswell's note-books. Mr. Fitzgerald relates that in Mr. Pocock's 'Johnsonian Catalogue' there was

a note-book in which Boswell jotted down from day to day the actual sayings and doings of the eminent lexicographer. This volume contains literary opinions and aphorisms peculiar to this great man, and of which many have never been published. He gives a specific account of the manner in which he compiled the 'Dictionary,' and relates other matters of interest, bearing on his long literary career and contemporaries.

This manuscript, if it were to be seen, might reveal more definitely what Boswell's method was. The description of it can do nothing but emphasise the use of the 'tablets'; but its value as evidence depends upon its accuracy with regard to the sequence of the notes: if they were really 'jotted down from day to day,' then they are the 'tablets' without a doubt.

The other note-book is 'Boswelliana'; and it is of a different kind.

One might easily expect that the same words would equally well apply to the 'Life.' But this is not the case.

It is reasonable to suppose that the Johnsonian stories in 'Boswelliana' are not less polished than those in the journal; they are themselves in a definite form; and since the journal itself is only the second stage of Boswell's method, these stories must be in a state at the least no less advanced. And yet the verbal differences between these stories and those in the 'Life' are often considerable and sometimes large. The truth is that Boswell's method must have developed very much in one direction from the account he gave of it in the 'Tour to Corsica.' As Dr. Birkbeck Hill has clearly proved, he made changes in the way of 'touching up' the conversations and stories.

One or two instances of these variations will illustrate Boswell's treatment of his materials; the stories are given below in double columns for purpose of comparison.

Boswelliana Life

1. Boswell asked Mr. Samuel Johnson what was best to teach a gentleman's children first. 'Why, Sir,' said he, 'there is no matter what you teach them first. It matters no more than which leg you put first into your bretches [_sic_]. Sir, you may stand disputing which leg you 'BOSWELLIANA' shall put in first, but in the meantime your legs are bare. No matter which you put in first so that you put 'em both in, and then you have your bretches on. Sir, while you think which of two things to teach a child first, another boy, in the common course has learnt both.' I was present. We talked of the education of children; and I asked him what he thought was best to teach them first. Johnson: 'Sir, it is no matter what you shall teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put in your breeches first. Sir, you may stand disputing which leg you shall put in first, but in the meantime your breech is bare. Sir, while you are considering which of two things you shall teach your child first, another boy has learnt them both.

Boswelliana Life

2. Boswell told Mr. Samuel Johnson that a gentleman of their acquaintance maintained in public company that he could see no distinction between virtue and vice. 'Sir,' said Mr. Johnson, 'does he intend that we should believe that he is lying, or that he is in earnest? If we think him a lyar, that is not honouring him very much. But if we think him in earnest, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.' The same gentleman maintained that there was no distinction between virtue and vice. Johnson: 'Why, Sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying; and I see not what honour he can propose to himself from having the character of a liar. But if he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, Sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.'

A comparison of the two versions of No. 1 reveals at once the brevity of the final form. It is evident, as Mr. Fitzgerald remarks, that the text itself could not have represented the talk as it came from Johnson's lips. 'The whole is too deliberate, too close, too well winnowed, as it were.' Conversation is more discursive. Boswell's method as we see it here is in the first place to compress—to give not the whole of Johnson's words, but only the essence of them. In the result the story in its last state preserves the most important expressions and is more pointed for being shorter.

The second story in the table has not been cut down in the same fashion. It illustrates very well another process. It is the process, one may say, of Johnsonising. Not only has the argument, as in the former case, been made clearer and more concise, but the words themselves have been considerably altered. The result indicates the reason of these changes. The version in the 'Life' is stronger and more convincing; it has more of the energy of human tongues. The assertion 'he is lying' has more force than the corresponding question: the 'why, Sir,' introduced before the climax gives the proper snort of war before the culminating triumph of the dilemma. Boswell made these changes that he might retain the spirit of Johnson's talk and the atmosphere of the moment as the listeners felt it. He succeeded whenever he added force and directness; one may easily be convinced of this by recalling the uncouth figure with its suggestion of abnormal strength which uttered slowly in a very loud voice, occasionally shaking the head, 'as if to promote the fermentation of his wit.'

A most remarkable instance of the two processes—of compressing and Johnsonising—is furnished by two stories in 'Boswelliana' which become one story in the 'Life.'

Boswelliana Life

Mr. Sheridan, though a man of knowledge and parts, was a little fanciful in his projects for establishing oratory and altering the mode of British education. 'Mr. Samuel Johnson,' said Sherry, 'cannot abide me, for I always ask him, Pray, Sir, what do you propose to do?' From Mr. Johnson: Boswell was talking to Mr. Samuel Johnson of Mr. Sheridan's enthusiasm for the advancement of eloquence. 'Sir,' said Mr. Johnson, 'it won't do. He cannot carry through his scheme. He is like a man attempting to stride the English Channel. Sir, the cause bears no proportion to the effect. It is setting up a candle at Whitechapel to give light at Westminster.' He now added, 'Sheridan cannot bear me. I bring his declamation to a point. I ask him a plain question, What do you mean to teach? Besides, Sir, what influence can Mr. Sheridan have upon the language of this great country by his narrow exertions? Sir, it is burning a farthing candle at Dover to show light at Calais!'

The compression and alteration are of the same character as in the two previous stories. The argument is closer and the point clearer; and the effect of the whole is stronger. One verbal change is very striking. One might expect that the image with which Johnson summarises his views would be wholly inviolate. Yet here we see Dover and Calais substituted for Whitechapel and Westminster: probably the reason is that Boswell regrets the phrase he has omitted, 'He is like a man attempting to stride across the English Channel,' and tries to combine the two images.

It must not be forgotten that the stories in 'Boswelliana' were probably not used by Boswell in writing the 'Life.' If they were to be written down in full once only, then why not in the proper Johnsonian stores? Or why should this peculiar collection of 'Boswelliana' take precedence? Some of the stories, indeed, must have been in the journal; the record in 'Boswelliana,' for instance, of Johnson's retort about Scotland—the first remark he made to Boswell—cannot be the only record of the famous meeting in Tom Davies' back parlour; clearly Boswell must have kept a more elaborate account. But though the 'Boswelliana' manuscripts were not used, as seems most likely, it may fairly be argued that the difference between the versions given there and the final forms in the 'Life' are a proper indication of Boswell's method of adapting his material. There is no reason to suppose that Boswell was less accurate in the 'Boswelliana' than in his journal and other Johnsonian stores; or indeed, that there was a great difference between 'Boswelliana' versions and any others in an unfinished state. And it is clear that two versions of a story, both in an unfinished state, must differ from the final form more or less, perhaps, but with the same species of difference.

It is contended, therefore, that Boswell altered his written Johnsoniana in a way which could account for the differences we have observed between the versions of stories in 'Boswelliana' and those in the 'Life.' This proposition, however, casts no reflection upon his reputation for accuracy. He preserved the 'substance and language'; and if he changed some words he preserved the colouring and made the whole a better representation of Johnson.

Boswell himself gives some suggestion of his method when he presents a series of Johnsoniana for which he was indebted to Mr. Langton:

Very few articles in this collection were committed to writing by himself, he not having that habit....

The authenticity of every article is unquestionable. For the expressions, I, who wrote them down, am partly answerable.

By 'unquestionable authenticity' it was meant, no doubt, that the purport of what Johnson said had been correctly reported. In 'Boswelliana' a story told by Mr. Langton is written out with suggestions for its improvement. It may be quoted as a final example of the manner in which Boswell was partly answerable for the expressions:

Johnson had a sovereign contempt for Wilkes and his party, whom he looked upon as a mere rabble. 'Sir,' said he, 'had Wilkes's mob prevailed against Government, this nation would have died of phthiriasis! Mr. Langton told me this. The expression morbus pediculosus, as being better known, would strike more. Lousy disease may be put in a parenthesis.'