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rheinsbergJames Boswell, 18th century diarist, biographer, and tireless celebrity gatecrasher extraordinaire provides us with some terrific glimpses on the German states in 1764, directly after the Seven Years War, starring various Fredericians, which I've collected and am sharing in this post.
First, a note on the source material.
Clarification first: re: Boswell's journals: they keep being edited. What I had previously read was:
- "Boswell's London Journal" - the breakout first collection that made Boswell a postumous star of diary writers (edited by Professor Pottle)
- Boswell on the Grand Tour II (frustratingly, I had not gotten my hands on Grand Tour I - II covers his time in Italy) (Pottle edition)
- Boswell's Edinburgh Journal (editor Hugh M. Milne) and
- The Journals of James Boswell (editor John Wain; this is a "best of Boswell" collection through his entire life, and based on Pottle's first edition of the journals
What I read most recently, and mainly am using for this post: James Boswell: The Journal of his German and Swiss Travels, 1764, edited by Gordon Turnbull and James J. Caudle.
This , covering the same material as "Boswell on the Grand Tour I" did, is a more scholarly directed edition than Pottle's, which aimed at the general market. Hence Pottle translating all the French dialogue Boswell transcribed into English, between him and the German nobles (though he picks up some German to talk to soldiers and servants with) , and between him and Rousseau, and a bit between him and Voltaire, on their first encounter, whereas on the second Voltaire does talk English with him. In this edition, by contrast, both the French dialogue and the occasional German (phonetically spelled, i.e. Boswell must have picked up these phrases by ear), is kept in the language Boswell wrote them down in.
The editors also provide extensive footnotes on everyone mentioned, for which they quote out of Lehndorff's diaries (not just volume 1 but the other volumes as well!) a lot. (Sadly, if the two diarists met, neither of them wrote it down. Boswell did meet EC, though.) And they're good with thoroughness, so for example the time when Boswell hears the "Fritz: lots of sex with the ladies as a young men, now impotent as a result!" gossip, there's a footnote saying essentially: Frederick's sexuality: It's complicated, and source referencing various contradictory theories.
The preface - always useful, prefaces! - also contains information on just how - i.e. by which transport means - Boswell travelled through the German principalities. This is highly useful in case anyone wants to write other 18th century people hitting the road, so, check it out:
Private carriages for several passengers could be hired by the well-to-do, as Boswell did for Lord Marischal and his group. Large stage coaches were run by the princes of Thurn and Taxis who had a monopoly protected by the Holy Roman emperors. These Boswell must have taken for longer stretches along major roads. Less well known are the regional coaches he used in Prussia and in Hessen once he travelled on his own. His descripton of the cheap public conveyance called the "journalière", which operated between Berlin and Potsdam, emphasizes its primitive construction. NO more than an open cart made of wodden planks placed over wheels, it left its passengers ata the mercy of the elements, even of tree branches at eye level.
Worse than this open Postwagen were the vehicles enclosed with leather covers that let in little air and blocked the view to the outside. After Boswell banged his head against the rion rods on the roof of one of these "monstrous machines" which were part of the local "Hessen-Post", he preferred the open conveyances. But gentlemen did not use such vehicles, open or closed. Boswell carefully changed to the more respectable Extra-Post, reserved for one or two passengers, to enter Brunswick "as a gentleman" on his return visit in August. Yet the Extra-Post, more costly than the local coaches, brought new problems with it, since the wheels had to be greased at frequent intervals - an activity reported as "Smear-Gelt" (German: Schmiergeld) in Boswell's expense account. And the Extra-Post could be slower when fresh horses were not available, as Boswell was chargrined to find on his unexpectedly prolonged trip from Dresden to Gotha.
The journal, furthermore, vividly shows the deplorable state of the roads, which were usually rough and bumpy. Wrapping himself up in his greatcoat against the cold, Boswell feared that he would be helpless if the coach overturned. When such an accident actually happened, on the way to Kassel, he and the other passengers were left in a ditch, in the dark, and in the rain. Nor was there much choice of routes even between major places. Boswell, having travelled from Leipzig to Dresden, had to return to Leipzig before he could take the main route south to Gotha ,Mannheim and Karlsruhe. A fw days later, in Langensalza, the roads 'overflowed' with liquid mud. Prhaps that was why Boswell accepted an invitation in Langensalza to ride in a coach for even a short distance. Possibly for the same reason, he engaged a sedan chair in Kassel.
Safety in the town and city streets were also a concern. IN Bruswick, no one was allowed on the street ata night without a light, as Boswell discovered when he came close to being arrested (undismayed, he considered the experience "an adventure"). In Leipzig, the famous bridge with its elaborate one-way system for pedestrians and vehicles inspired him to write down the regulations for the flow of traffic. And lodgings for travellers varied considerably in quality. They could be pleasantly luxurious, as they were for Boswell in Berlin, but inns en route were often as uncomfortable as the vehicles. On the way to Frankfurt, where he had his worst experience, he lodged in a room with fourteen other adults and three children, though being acknowledged as "Herr Baron von Boswell", he was given the one available bed. On several occasions, seeking better air, Boswell chose to sleep on a bare floor or on straw - even i a stable in spite of the possible danger of being trampled by the horses. Fortunately, he had the courage and resilience required of travellers, especially in the autumn and winter months.
Amusingly the editors also point out that Boswell by managing to get himself invited a lot in the various towns and residences he visited saved a considerable sum of money for meals. (He also promoted himself to "Baron von Boswell" in order to score all these invites, though not when gatecrashing chez Rousseau and Voltaire.
I tried to order the quotes by subject, starting with George Keith, Lord Marischal, whom Boswell brings to life in a way the various Fritz biographies I've read don't.
George Keith, Lord Marischal
George Keith, as a reminder, is distantly related to Boswell - a third cousin - which was Boswell's in. He's also not alone but in the company of his ward, a Turkish woman named Emetulla (Emet Ulla, Marie Emeté) de Froment. James Keith had rescued Emetulla as a child when his troops captured Ochakow during the Russo-Turkish war, and after James' death George Keith became her guardian. She had married one Denis-Daniel de Froment in the previous year, 1763, but had gone with George Keith to Scotland and was now returning with him to Prussia. In future years, she'd divorce her husband, with Boswell acting as essentially her divorce lawyer in order to preserve the inheritance she got from the Keiths to her and not let her husband have it. And yes, of course Boswell flirts with her a lot in this journal.
(She wasn't the only Turk whom George Keith had inherited from James Keith: there was also one Ibrahim, whom Boswell meets later ("he was to be a painter, but became a hypochondriack & has a pension from My Lord" and "Old Stepan the Calmuc", who used to be valet de chambre to first James, then George Keith, "but drank so that he was no longer to be trusted & now also has a pension".)
Oh, and another recurring thread: religion, because Boswell was another child of deeply Calvinist parents who was plagued by religious fears throughout his life.
All quotes from the year 1764, remember.
June 23: My Lord also talked of the Scots Highlanders with respect and affection, as the most brave and most generous People upon earth, and abused the harsh absurdity of our Government, for taking their cloths from them and extirpating their language by which means they will be at last reduced to a level with the other Inhabitants of Scotland; and so we shall lose the best Militia upon earth. The proper method was surely not to destroy the Highlanders, but to render them attached to the Government, which would be no difficult matter, as the Chiefs are no longer disaffected. WE came at night to Herford. I found myself a new man. My ideas were altered. I had no gloomy fears. I talked with Madame de Froment, who had been educated Mahometan & who still believed that the Great Prophet was sent from God. This opened my mind. I resolved to be prudent, nor to own my many waverings. I was quite happy. I determined to get free of the clouds which hung upon me. I determined to be manly and content.
June 25, they are in Hannover the city, and George Keith alludes to an ongoing British fear, that Hannover would get British money through the royals: My Lord joked on the tea spoons, which seemed of Gold. Ay ay the money of old England in the Hannoverian Dominions. He assumed the character of Dictionary Johnson, in order to joke in this manner. He talked of somebody having stolen gold spoons. Very natural said I. Hear the Scotsman said he.
June 30th, now they are in Magdeburg: In the afternoon My Lord was very chatty. He told me that the Marquis d'Argens was a good-natured amiable man, and much liked by the King of Prussia. He is now old. He has married an actress, whom he keeps in great subjection. He has made her learn Greek, & I don't know how many things, merely to make her of use to him in his studies. He is a miserable Being, he is Hypochondriack & terrified of death. He had worn a flannel underwaistcoat four years & durt not take it off, for fear of catching cold. The King drove out one fear by another & told him that if he persisted to wear that waistcoat, his perspiration would be entirely stop'd & he must inevitably die. The Marquis agreed to quit his waistcoat. But it had so fixed itself upon him, that pieces of his skin came away with it. My lord as usual laughed at Religious gloom. I told him he had the felicity of a sound mind, which everybody has not. Good heaven! how fortunate is one man above another!
Tuesday July 3rd: Boswell and George Keith have now arrived in Potsdam: My Lord Marischal carried me to the Palace where he has an appartment assigned him by the King. He seemed just like one who comes to a good friend's house in the country, when the friend is of somewhat higher rank than the guest. Just as I come to Englintone. It was fine to see the old Scots Nobleman lodged in the Palace of Prussia, just as if he had been in the Abbey of Holyrood house.
Sanssouci description be found below, but first, on with the Lord Marischal quotes:
Monday July 23rd: Lord Marischal dined with us at Froment's. He & I talked of Jacobitism, as how there was something pathetic & generous in it, as it was espousing the cause of a distressed & ancient Royal House. My Lord however owned that they deserved to lose the throne of Britain. I own so too. I am sorry for them. I wish to forget them; and I love from my Soul 'Great George our King'.
(Burnet is Mitchell's secretary, of whom more below in the Mitchell section. Macpherson is a Highlander soldier in Prussian service whom Boswell h as befriended.)
Wednesday 5 September: Some days ago I wrote to My Lord Marischal that Mr. Burnet and I intended this day to have the nor of eating an Olio with his Lordship. At six we set out in a clever chaise. The day was good. My spirits were fine. (...) We found all well at Potsdam. My Lord gave us an Olio which I found excellent. After dinner we went & saw the Garden and House at Sans Souci. I looked with pleasure at the King's study, which is elegant, and has its books finely bound, as at Potsdam. In his bedchamber I found some verses at a table. We then went to the Gallery, where I saw the noble room and rich pictures with true relish. We then looked at the foundation of the house which the King is going to build for My Lord, which makes his Lordship very happy. AT night Macpherson and I dressed ourselves in the highland dress, of which Macpherson had two suits, and a fine frolic did we make of it. We wrote a card 'To The Right Honourable George Earl Marischal of Scotland', 'Two Highland Gentlemen Mrssr. Mcdonald & Mcintosh beg leave to have the honour of paying their respects to the Earl of Marischal. They ask pardon for troubling him at so untimely an hour.' The direction and the word 'untimely' were exxcellent. Away we went, & Scott & Burnet behind us, past the sentinels & went to My Lord's apartment in the Palace. I asked the Servant in German for My Lord & delivered the Card. His Lordship made us welcome. We stood just within his door, bowing much. He cried, 'Come in, Gentlemen, come in'. He advanced & immediately knew us, & asked how Cows sold. He took our joke in good part. We marched home again. Going & coming we were followed on the street; for, we spoke a barbarous language. I did at least; for I made it up. I supped on Sowans hearty, & were canty Chields. Burnet had a bed, & in te same room the Highlanders lay on straw. This did I talk. Thus was I merry.
The Union is of course the one between Scotland and England.
Thursday 6 September: I rose stout & well. After breakfeast I disputed against the Union. Burnet was my Antagonist. After much warm disputation, I said, 'Sir, the love of our country is a sentiment. If you have it not, I cannot give it you by reasoning. I waited on Lord Marischal. (...) He was more affable than usual. I owned to him that I was afraid I could not do great things as a Scots Lawyer, & could wish to be in some other employement. As for the army (said he) it is too late. Then 'My Lord, might I not be employed abroad?' Sir you must begin as Secretary, & if you are not with a man to your mind, you are very unhappy. Then if you should be sent envoy if you are at a place, where there is little to do, you are idle & unhappy. If you have much to do, you are harrassed with anxiety. Well then My Lord, I would get into Parliament. No Sir. You would be obliged to stick to a Party right or wrong, thro ' thick & thro' thin. Or you must be singular & thought absurd. My Lord, if you go on, you'll chace me out of existence altogether. What say you to my following the law in Scotland moderately? jogging on between the Parliament House & Auchinleck, and sodoing pretty well. Indeed Sir I'm for your jogging on. Your Father will see that you do your best. He has a great liking for you, and you 'll very well together. Then My Lord will you write to him, that in the meantime he may allow me to travel a year? I will.
His Lordship then gave me my route by Switzerland, Italy and France. I was very happy, quite in the humour of revering the Old Earl. I thought on the Abbey of Holyrood-house. I thought of worthy Johnston. I talked with my Lord against the Union & how we had lost our spirit. I said You find Scotsmen in the Highlands. But very few south of Tay. I ought to be valued, My Lord, as a rare Scot. He took down from his book-case the history of Robert the Bruce in old verse & made me a present of it, writing upon it 'Scotus Scoto' and saying now you must read this once every year. I had almost cried before the good old man. We dined with his Lordship. After dinner Burnet & I set out. He was excellent company. His stories flew thick. He insisted I should supp with him. I did so & merry we were. Yet, my gloomy eye saw the situation of an envoy in an unpleasing light. I am an unhappy dog.
Boswell, you would not have been a good envoy. (And for different reasons as to why Lehndorff would not have been.) Cultural attaché, yes.
Thursday 20 September:
All the morning was employed in writing. I dined Froment's, & after dinner we all walked. Madame la Turque said to me Vous avez un penchant vers la Melancholie. Il vous faut beaucoup de changements. I aid: Quelle donc doit etre mon pais? She replied 'Europe. Et qui doit etre ma femme? Froment exclaimed Un Chariot de Poste. Very ludicrous & well applied.
Saturday 22 September:
I past part of the morning with his Lordship, who gave me his good advices with an accuracy & a vivacity that amazed me. He is absolutely free of affectation, which I cannot understand; for I am sadly plagued by it. He joked with me, & said Well, Colonel! may you not only conquer Portugal, but Africa; and so triumph over the Moors. I took leave of him with a most respectful and affectionate embrace saying 'My Lord, you may always reckon upon me as upon a most faithful servant. My heart was big when I took my last adieu of the venerable Scots nobleman. I yet hope to see him again. I almost cried. AT this moment the tears are in my eyes. I dined at Froment's & took leave of my poor Turk with regret. Well, she & I have past curious hours together. Honest Scott said If I come within sixty miles of you, I shall see you. Macpherson & Froment woked with me till I was out of the Gate, & then took leave. All these circumstances makr my being regarded. I mounted the post wagon. I found it cold & really hard enough. Courage!
All Things Fritz
Reminder: The Prince of Prussia is future FW2, AW's son.
Potsdam: July 3rd: At ten (Lord Marischal) carried me to the Parade, which was full of Prussian officers, all bold looking, all gay, all well-dressed. He presented me to the Prince of Prussia, calling me 'd'une tres bonne maison et fort galant homme' . (...) I then waited on Mr. Catt Reader to the King to whom I had a letter from M. de Zuyl He was sick & could not go out with me; but he was civil. I found him dry & even insipid. Madame de Froment & I dined téte á téte, after which we went & were shown the Palace which is magnificent. the King's Concert-Room is very elegant. We looked thro' a glass door & saw his Bedchamber, & a neat little library. All his books were bound in red turkie & handsomely gilt. They made me think of my dear Temple. They would have pleased him much. In the Antechamber were a good many books ,but our conductor would not allow us to lift any of them, for, he said, the King knew the exact place of every one of them. I saw Oeuvres of Voltaire, & a fine quarto edition of the Oeuvres du Philosophe de Sans-Souci. (...) I was in a humour of gallantry tonight. I was pleased with the romantic idea of making love to a Turk. However I talked morality at last & thought myself a Johnson. She seemed too indolent in body & too vivacious in mind to be a very rigid Lady. Besides her ideas were quite different from mine. Her Religion was of a kind very different from mine. Bless me. What are mortals!
Boswell sees Fritz, from a distance, the one way everyone could see him without getting an audience, attending a parade. Note that this was the year when Heinrich pissed him off by not saluting properly.
I rose fresh as a Roe on the Braes of Lochaber. I find that if I had got a Commission in a Highland Corps, I should have been as stout a Donald as the best of them. I waited on my good Lord Marischal, whom I found contented and as cheerful as ever. I then went to the Parade. I saw the King. It was a glorious Sight. He was dressed in a suit of plain blue, with a star, & a plain hat with a white feather. He had in his hand a cane. The sun shone brihgt. He stood before his palace, with an air of iron confidence that could not be opposed. As a loadstone moves needles, or a storm bows the lofty oaks, did Frederic the great make the Prussian officers submissive bend, as he walked majestic in the midst of them. I was in noble spirits & had a full relish of this grand scene, which I shall never forget. I felt a crowd of ideas. I beheld the King who has astonished Europe by his warlike deeds. I beheld (pleasant conceit!) the great defender of the Protestant Cause, who was being prayed for in all the Scots Kirks. I beheld the Philosophe de Sans Souci. I have really a little mind, with all my pride. For I thought one might well endure all the fatigues of war, in order to have an opportunity of appearing grand as this Monarch.
(Boswell will change his mind on this once he comes to Dresden; stay tuned.)
Friday 21 September:
The whim struck me to put on a blue bonnet, and appear quite a Scots Gentleman. I went in this dress to the parade of the Prince of Prussia. The Prince observed me & asked Scott Qu'est-ce que ce petit bonnet que porte ce monsieur la? Scott said: C'est le bonnet que portent les Gentilhommes Ecossois. The poor Prince did not like it much, nor could he think that he was a Lord's son who wore it. No matter - I was pleased, and boldly did I march upon the Parade before the Palace, where I again saw the King. But he did not look towards me. However I was pleased to have shown the first blue bonnet on the Prussian Parade.
And that's why your friends won't introduce you to Fritz, Boswell. Otoh, he gets to hang out with "Blancho", who the footnote tells me is the Swedish Ambassador Karl Julius, Count von Bohlen, and on Tuesday, September 4th, shares this spicy bit of gossip:
He entertained me much; being a fellow of knowledge and clear expression. He said the French music was a contrast to the French temper. The French are gay. their music is grave. A Frenchman never looks so serious, as when he sings a song. He said the King of Prussia had been sadly debauched in his youth: for he used to go to the common bawdy houses as well as to divert himself with the Ladies of the Court. He is now (said Blancho) quite impotent.
Now I would say that Blancho clearly reads anonymous trashy pamphlets, except that the anonymous pamphlet by most likely Voltaire that was published in 1752 does not yet contain the "young Fritz caught an STD during his youthful escapades, therefore can't get it up anymore now!" story. Even Voltaire's memoirs, published in 1784, which do include this story, do not feature "bawdy houses" (and, of course, no not present Fritz as having been a ladykiller in his younger days; the only woman Voltaire names as having been linked to young Fritz is poor Doris Ritter, who gets critisized for her looks. One can only conclude the implication is that the supposedly sex-crippling STDs were caught not from women in this version. OTOH, Zimmermann in the 1790s postulates that Fritz, shocked by Doris Ritter's fate, thereafter frequented only whores in order not to harm any more "good" women, caught an STD, had a bad cure recced by the Schwedt cousins, believed himself cured, spent three blissful years of fulfilled marriage with EC, had the STD recurring and thereafter lived in chaste impotence. To get back to the point: this means Boswell hearing this rumor from the Swedish envoy in 1764 is the earliest recording of said rumor I've come across.
On Wednesday, September 26th, Boswell, now in Anhalt, hears the story of Voltaire, Fritz and the laundry, in this form: M. Lestock. Gouv: de Prince spoke well - Le Roi de Prusse venoit un jour. Que faites vous Voltaire? Sire, j'arrange votre linge sale.
Which is a bit different to the version we know, but like the many versions of the last Fritz/Katte exchange, there's a shared core. Since Boswell is currently at a minor German court whose prince (AnhaltSophie's brother, married to Mina's sister and driving her to an early grave) isn't even in residence, it really must have spread far and wide.
When Boswell arrives at Dresden, he is well and truly shocked by the scars from the war, and his Fritz opinion plunges downwards. No more hero of the Protestant faith, for:
Tuesday 9 October:
I strolled about & viewed the city. It is finely built of freestone. It gave me great pain to see the ruins made by the Prussian bombardments. I hated the barbarous hero. He was under no necessity to bombard Dresden. It was from mere spite that he did it.
Naturally, Boswell visits the British envoy and his father's old pal in Berlin.
Andrew Mitchell
Belle de Zuylen is a Dutch intellectual and writer whom Boswell flirted with when studying law at Utrecht. She flirted back but didn't take him seriously (wise her!), and definitely had no intention of marrying him.
I waited on Mr. Mitchell and found him a knowing amiable easy man. He was very polite. Te talked of Mademoiselle de Zuylen 'Elle a beaucoup d' esprit.' Oui said I trop d'esprit pour les Hollandais. And who was in the room but Mr. Verelst the Dutch envoy! Mr. Mitchell turned it off with a smiling reply. 'Monsieur, c'est un beau compliment que vous faites au Ministre d'Holland.' Blockhead that I was. Let never Man blunder out reflections against any country, when he does not very well know his company.
Joseph Yorke: British envoy to The Hague. Should have replaced Mitchell as British envoy to Prussia mid war, but Fritz wouldn't have it.
July 14: I rumbled in the Journaliere to Berlin having for company amongst others Mademoiselle Dionsicus, daughter to the cook of Prince Ferdinand of Prussia. I talked words of German to this lass. I dined at Froment's, & after dinner went to Mr. Mitchell's. We talked of Sir Joseph Yorke, whom he calls Sir Joe. I told him that he seemed so anxious lest people should not know that he was Ambassador, that he held his head very high & spoke very little. And as in the infancy of painting people generally wrote 'this is a cow'. So from Sir Joe's mouth commeth a label with these words 'I am an Ambassador'. What a difference between this buckram knight & the amiable Mr. Mitchell.
Post-War, Fritz gave Monbijou to Louise to live in. As Schönhausen was getting renovated, EC is with her sister.
July 15: I dined at Mr. Mitchell's. He has an elegant house and a good table. He is polite and easy. His servants are good people, civil and attached to their master. After dinner, I played at billiards with Mr. Burnet, Secretary to Mr. Mitchell, a very good solid clever young fellow. At six the envoy carried me to Monbijou the campagne of the Princess of Prussia. Here I was presented to the Queen with whom the King has never lived. she has been handsome, and is very amiable, altho' she stammers sadly. I was presented to I don't know how many princes and princesses. I was awkward, though not afraid.
Lawyers: Mitchell and Boswell's dad both had studied law, if you'll recall. So had Boswell, though he hadn't been too keen originally, he'd dreamt of being a soldier, romantisizing the profession.
Friday 27 July: I dined with Mr. Mitchell, who always give me agreeable views. He said that in living every man must be his own director; for, our tastes are extremely different. He said if lawyers had a fixed salary, they surely could not drudge as they do. But the little refreshing presents keep them alive. He counselled me much to pursue the law in Scotland as I might by that means attain a useful and honorable station. Yet he owned that some people could not follow that profession. I said nothing but had a secret satisfaction to find that my aversion to the law was not absolutely absurd. At six we got into his excellency's coach. I told him that the Abbé Jerusalem had wished to dispute with the King of Prussia, on Religion. Indeed said Mr. Mitchell they had better save themselves the trouble; for, the King has heard all the Abbés arguments, and the Abbé has heard all the King's, and after they have said a great deal, each will retain his own opinion. Then, Sir, said I, you think truth is at the bottom of the well. Yes, said he, and I suppose will remain there some time. We went to Monbijou and payed our respects at court. Dull enough.
So much for royal glamour. :) (Lehndorff agrees, of course.) The next person we've heard of Boswell meets through Mitchell is Formey, aka the writer of all those Academy obituaries, including Peter Keith's.
I dined at Mr. Mitchell's, where was Mr. Formey perpetual Secretary to the Academy of Sciences at Berlin. He was facetious, but vain. He talked of his books, & he talked of his lectures. He said quand vous entender le tambour a neuf heures au soir, vous pouvez dire Formey lest dans son lit. He told us Mr. Gualteri a French Minister here was so hypochandriac that he caused tie his legs together at night, lest he should get up, and do himself some mischief. How strange a distemper is this!
In time, Boswell finds out Mitchell can get depressed, too:
September 5: We talked of Spleen. Burnet said that Mr. Mitchell was sadly distressed with it; that sometimes he would sit without speaking a word, & say Well I could not have thought that this could get so much the better of me. All this was really owing to his being costive, to prent which he took every proper method. He had his own box, which was constantly tied behind the coach, and with Mr. Locke's regularity did he attempt the necessary operation.
Boswell doesn't just meet exiled Scots and German nobility, though. He befriends a couple of families which I had to skip, and also, being a good tourist, checks out more than palaces and parades.
Boswell in Saxony: Tourist at Large
Here's Boswell at Wittenberg being Boswell, and I just had to share:
I saw the Convent where Luther lived, and I went to the old Church in which he first preached the Reformation. It has been miserably shattered by the Bombardments. But the Tomb of Luther is still entire as is that of Melanchthon just opposite to it. They are nothing more than two large plates of metal fixed on the floor. The y have inscriptions in raised letters. (...)
I was in a true solemn humor, and a most curious and agreeable idea presented itself, which was to write to Mr. Samuel Johnson from the tomb of Melanchthon. The woman who showed the church was a good obliging body, and very readily furnished me with pen and ink. Tht my paper might literally rest upon the monument or rather the simple epitaph of this great & good man, I laid myself down & wrote in that posture. The good woman & some more simple beings gather'd round & beheld me with wonder. I dare say they supposed me a little mad. Tombs have always been the favourit resort of gloomy distracted mortals. I said nothing of hot-headed Luther. I only mentioned the mild Melanchthon, and that at his tomb I vowed to Mr. Johnson an eternal attachment. This letter must surely give him satisfaction. I shall not send it till I see if he gives me a favourable answer to my last two letters.
At Leipzig, Boswell meets Gottsched (alas, Luise Gottsched the Émilie fan had already died):
Lying on the floor did me much good. I sprung up cheerful. Experience shall ever be my great 'Guide! (...) I went and saw the fair where there is a concourse of all nations, even of Turks. Such a scene gives me agreeable agitation of ideas. (...) We dined together with some more Germans in a house on the Horse market, where we were mighty well. I then went and called on the Professor Gottsched, one of the most distinguished Literati of this Country. It was he who set agoing the true cultivation of the German language of which he has given an excellent grammar. He has also written several pieces both in verse and prose. I found him a big comely man, with an ease of manners like a man of the world. Altho I had no recommendation, he received me with perfect politeness. We talked of Scotland, of it's language and the difference between it and English. I mentioned to him my plan of a Scots dictionary, & promised to show him a specimen of it. He said the preface to Johnson's dictionary was one of the best pieces he had ever read. Said he: Il connait le suject au fond. He advised me tait upon Mr. Bel Professor of Poetry. I did so, & found him a lively Hungarian, with a degree of French manners. He had a very good Library. I should have mentioned that Gottsched & I were quite easy together in a few minutes; and I was at once among his books. Both he and Bel promised to be of what service they could to me, during my stay there.
Bel and Gottsched make it possible that Boswell visits the Leipzig University library, which impresses him. Otoh, the only literary celebrity he meets there, Gellert, does not.
I resolved to have a noble library at Auchinleck. I saw here a volume of original manuscript letters of famous learned men in Germany. I saw Luther's bible, which the verse of St. James says that the three which bear record in heaven are one is not to be found. Bel sent my name to Gellert, a professor here, who apointed me to come to him at three. (...) They call him the Gay of Germany. He has written fables & little dramatic pieces. I found him a poor sickly creature. He said he had been twenty years hypochondriack. He said that during a part of his life, every night he thought to die, and every morning he wrote a famble. He said Ma Poesie est passée. Je n'ai plus la force d'esprit. He spoke bad Latin and worse French, so I did my best with him in German. I found him a poor mind, with hardly any science. His conversation was like that of an old Lady. (...)
I am very fond of Leipzig. The Professors here are easy men o the world. I said I regretted I had not stuided here myself. But, I would go home & marry & send a son. Give me your hand on that, said Bel. I gave it him that I would send my son to his care. Let me remember this. I supped with him in an easy way with his family. Is not this being treated with much Civility? If I ever laugh at Germans, I am a villain.
Monday, 8 October.
After sleeping all the night in a thick mist on the Postwagon, I awaked much out of order. My blood was quite stagnated, and my teeth were loose. I was alarmed. When we came to astation, I got down & danced with much vigor, which by degrees brought me to myself. (...) This day I had a pleasant drive between Meissen and Dresden. We went along the side of the Elbe. On each side of the river were beautiful rising grounds covered with vines. Pray may not we have the same in Scotland? Surely our climate differs little from that of Saxony. I saw too here & there old castles, Herrschaften's houses, seats of gentlemen. It pleased me. It was Scottish. In Brandenburg I don't remember to have seen any; and I believe they are extremely scarce. I got in good time to the beautiful city of Dresden, put up at the Hotel de Pologne, an excellent house, dressed in scarlet and Gold, & went immediately to call on Mr. Stanhope the British Envoy, for whom I had a letter from Mr. Burnet at Berlin. He was not at home. I returned to my inn & went comfortably to bed. This was a degree of luxury to me, for I had not been undressed for ten days. I am really campaigning in Germany! I like it much.
Mr. Stanhope the English Envoy is Mr. Philip Stanhope, illegitimate son of Lord Chesterfield, and the recipient of his letters that form the book on which Chesterfield's enduring fame rests.
I dined at Mr. Stanhope's. He is natural Son to the Earl of Chesterfield: but has received the education of an nobleman and been always considered, by My Lord his Father, in the best light. He is little & young, but much of a Gentleman. He abused the King of Prussia. He talked lightly of the Saxon Court, & said he tired sadly at Dresden. This was not quite the formed man. But, I liked him the better.
Monday November 12th: I have quite the disposition for travelling. When I find a court agreeable, I wish to remain there for life. I would be attaché. Were I but so fixed, oh how tired I would be. I must however learn to keep my place at Auchinleck. It is my duty as I am born a Laird. Were all the German Princes to go & live in the delicious Spain, their families would fall & I would find no courts.
With his talent for structuring his life like a novel, Boswell reserved the two most famous celebrities for the last (before moving on to Italy, that is): in Switzerland, he managed to talk his way into not one but several meetings (each) with both Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Voltaire.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Have just one example of his chats with the "divine Jean-Jacques". The scholarly edition renders this conversation as Boswell did, in French. Since it's longer, I'm switching to the Pottle-as-quoted-by-Wain edition, which translated it into English:
BOSWELL: For instance, I should like to have thirty women. Could I not satisfy that desire?
ROUSSEAU: Ha! Ha! If Mademoiselle were not here, I would give you a most ample reason why.
BOSWELL: But consider: if I am rich, I can take a number of girls; I get them with child; propagation is thus increased. I give them dowries, and I marry them off to good peasants who are very happy to have them. Thus they become wives at the same age as would have been the case if they had remained virgins and I, on my side, have had the benefit of enjoying a great variety of women.
ROUSSEAU: Oh, you will be landed in jealousies, betrayals and treachery.
BOSWELL: But cannot I follow the Oriental usage?
ROUSSEAU: In the Orient the women are kept shut up, and that means keeping slaves. And, mark you, their women do nothing but harm, whereas ours do much good, for they do a great deal of work.
BOSWELL: Still, I should like to follow the example of the old Patriarchs, worthy men whose memory I hold in respect.
ROUSSEAU: But are you not a citizen? You must not pick and choose one law here and another law there, you must take the laws of your own society. Do your duty as a citizen, and if you hold fast, you will win respect. I should not talk about it, but I should do it. (…)
BOSWELL: And pray tell me how I can expiate the evil I have done?
ROUSSEAU: Oh, Sir, there is no expiation for evil except good. (…)
BOSWELL: Yesterday I thought of asking a favour of you, to give me credentials as your ambassador to the Corsicans. Will you make me his Excellency? Are you in need of an ambassador? I offer you my services: Mr. Boswell, Ambassador Extraordinary of Monsieur Rousseau to the Isle of Corsica.
ROUSSEAU: Perhaps you would rather be King of Corsica?
BOSWELL: On my word! Not I. It exceeds my powers (with a low bow). All the same, I can now say, “I have refused a crown”.
ROUSSEAU: Do you like cats?
BOSWELL: No.
ROUSSEAU: I was sure of that. It is my test of character. There you have the despotic instinct of men. They do not like cats because the cat is free and will never consent to become a slave. He will do nothing to your order, as other animals do.
BOSWELL: Nor a hen, either.
ROUSSEAU: A hen would obey your orders if you could make her understand them. But a cat will understand your perfectly and not obey them.
Boswell did go to Corsica – and wrote a book about the cause of the Corsicans as a result – but went to visit the other greatest philosopher of the age and arch-rival of Rousseau first, to wit, Voltaire. Unlike Rousseau, Voltaire was fluent in English, so most of the transcripts here are in English, and they give a great, vivid impression of what Voltaire was like in his 70s.
Voltaire
First, here's Boswell's letter about the meeting to his friend William Temple:
And whence do I now write to you, my friend? From the chateau of Monsieur de Voltaire. I had a letter for him from a Swiss colonel at The Hague. I came hither Monday and was presented to him. He received me with dignity and the air of a man who has been much in the world which a Frenchman acquires to perfection. I saw him for about half an hour before dinner. He was not in spirits. Yet he gave me some brilliant sallies. He did not dine with us, and I was obliged to poist away immediately after dinner, because the gates of Geneva shut before five and Ferney is a good hour from Town. I was by no means satisfied to have been so little time with the monarch of French literature. A happy scheme sprung up in my adventurous mind. Madame Denis, the niece of Monsieur de Voltaire, had been extremely good to me. She is fond of our language. I wrote her a letter in English begging her interest to obtain fo rme the privilege of lodging a night under the roof of Monsieur de Voltaire, who, in opposition to our sun, rises in the evening. I was in the finest humour, and my letter was full of wit. I told her, 'I am a hardy and vigorous Scot. You may mount me to the highest and coldest garret. I shall not even refuse to sleep upon two stairs in the bedchamber of your maid. I saw her pass through the room where we sat before dinner."
I sent my letter on Tuesday by an express. It was shown to Monsieur de Voltaire, who with his own hand wrote this answer in the character of Madame Denis: "You will do us much honour and pleasure. We have few beds. But you will not sleep on two chairs. My uncle, though very sick, hath guessed at your merit. I know it better; for I habve seen you longer." Temple, I am your most obedient. How do you find yourself? Have you got such a thing as an old friend in this world? Is he to be valued or is he not?
I returned yesterday to this enchanted castle. The magician appeared a very little before dinner. But in the evening he came into the drawing-room in great spirits. I placed myself by him. I touched the keys in unison with his imagination. I wish you had heard the music. He was all brilliance. He gave me continues flashes of wit. I got him to speak English, which he does to a degree that made m now and then start up and cry, 'Upon my soul this is astonishing!' When he talked our language he was animated with the soul of a Briton. He had bold flights. He had humour. He ahd an extravagance; he had a forcible oddity of style that the most comical of our dramatis personae could not have exceeded. He swore bloodily, as was the fashion when he was in England. He hummed a ballad; he repeated nonsense. Then he talked of our Constitution with a noble enthusiasm. I was proud to hear thi sform the mouth of an illustrious Frenchman. At last we came upon religion. Then he did rage. The company went to supper. Monsieur de Voltaire and I remained in the drawing-room with a great Bible before us, and if ever two mortal men disputed with vehemence, we did. Yes, upon that occasion he was one individual and I another. For a certain portion of time there was a fair opposition between Voltaire and Boswell. The daring bursts of his ridicule confounded my undrstanding. He stood like an orator of ancient Rome. Tully was never more agitated than he was. He went too far. His aged frame trembled beneath him. He cried, "Oh, I am very sick; my head turns round," and he let himself gently fall upon an easy chair. He recovered. I resumed our conversation, but changed the tone. I talked to him serious and earnest. I demanded of him an honest confession of his real sentiments. He gave it me with candour and with a mild eloquence which touched my heart. I did not believe him capable of thinking in the manner that he declared to me was "From the bottom of his heart". He expressed his veneration - his love - of the Supreme Being, an dhis entire resignation to the will of Hm who is All-Wise. He expressed his desire to resemble the author of Goodness by being good hiomself. His sentiments go no farther. He does not inflame his mind with grand hopes of the immortality of the soul. He says it may be, but he knows nothing of it. And his mind is in perfect tranquility. I was moved; I was sorry. I doubted his sincereity. I called to him with emotion, 'Are you sincere?' He answered, 'Before God, I am.'
Temple, was not this an interesting scene? Wold a journey form Scotland to Ferney have been too much to obtain such a remarkable interview? I have given you the great lines. The whole conversation of the evening is fully recorded, and I look upon it as an invaluable treasure. One day the public shall have it. It is a present highly worthy of their attention. I told Monsieur de Voltaire that I had written eight quarto pages of what he had said. He smiled and seemed pleased.
Now, Boswell's notes from the conversations, mostly in English, with only a few sentences originally in French.
Thursday 27 December 1764 yes, Boswell invited himself over to Voltaire's for just after Christmas - Notes on V'oltaire's English conversation:
VOLTAIRE: Shakespeare has often two good lines, never six. A madman, by G-d, a buffoon at Bartholomew Fair. No play of his own, all old stories.
Chess. “I shall lose, by G-d, by all the saints in Paradise. Ah, here I am risind on a black ram, like a whore as I am. –
Falstaff from the Spaniards.
BOSWELL: I’ll tell you why we admire Shakespeare.
VOLTAIRE: Because you have no taste.
BOSWELL: But, Sir –
VOLTAIRE: Et penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos – all Europe is against you. So you are wrong.
BOSWELL: But this is because we have the most grand imagination.
VOLTAIRE: The most wild. Pope drives a chaise with a couple of neat trim nags but Dryden a coach and six, with postillions and all." Repeated well some passages of Dryden.
BOSWELL: What is memory? Where lodge all our ideas?
VOLTAIRE: As Thomson says, where sleeps the winds when it is calm? Thomson was a great painter. Milton, many beauties and many faujlts, as there is nothing perfect in this damned world. His imitators are unintelligible.
BOSWELL: What do you think of our comedy?
VOLTAIRE: A great deal of wit, a great deal of plot, and a great deal of bawdy-houses.
BOSWELL. You speak good English.
VOLTAIRE. Oho! I have scraps of Latin for the vicar. - Addison is a great genius. His character shines in his writings. - Dr. Clarke was a metaphysical clock. A prudish priest. He thought he had all by demonstration; and he who thinks so is a madman.
BOSWELL: Johnson is a most orthodox man, but very learned; has much genius and much worth.
VOLTAIRE: He is then a dog. A superstitious dog. No worthy man was ever superstitious.
BOSWELL: He said the King of Prussia wrote like your footboy.
VOLTAIRE. He is a sensible man. - Will you go and see the Pretender* at Rome?
BOSWELL: No. It is high treason.
VOLTAIRE: I promise you I shall not tell your king of you. I shall not betray you. You would see a bigot: a poor being.
BOSWELL: His son is worse. He is drunk every day. He kicks women and he ought to be kicked.
VOLTAIRE: Homer was the only man who took it into his head to write twelve thousand verses upon two or three battles. - It is diverting to hear them say OLD ENGLAND.
BOSWELL: Sir, "Old England", "Old Scotland", and "Old France" have experienced a quite different effect from that.
*The current Stuart claimant of the British throne.
Thursday 27th December. Notes on Voltaire's conversation, original partly in French.
VOLTAIRE: You have the better government. If it gets bad, heave it into the ocean; that's why you have the ocean all about you. You are the slaves of laws. The French are slaves of men. In France every man is either an anvil or a hammer; he is a beater or must be beaten.
BOSWELL. Yet it is a light, a genteel hammer.
VOLTAIRE: Yes, a pocket hammer. We are too mean for our governors to cut off our heads. We are on the earth; they trample us.
Saturday 29th December. Notes on Voltaire's English Conversation.
BOSWELL: When I came to see you, I thought to see a very great, but a very bad man.
VOLTAIRE: You are a very sincere.
BOSWELL: Yes, but the same sincerity makes me own that I find the contrary. Only, your Dictionaire philosophique troubles me. For instance, Ame, the soul - "
VOLTAIRE: That was a good article.
BOSWELL: No. Excuse me. Is it - immortality - not a pleasing imagination? Is it not more noble?
VOLTAIRE: Yes. You have a noble desire to be King of Europe. You say, 'I wish it, and I ask your protection in continuing to wish it.' But it is not probable.
BOSWELL: No, but all cannot be the one, and may be the other. Like Cato, we all say, 'It must be so', till we possess immortality itself.
VOLTAIRE: But before we say that this soul will exist, let us know what it is. I know not the cause. I cannot judge. I cannot be a juryman. Cicero says, poitus opiandum quam probandum. We are ignorant beings. We are the puppets of Providence I am a poor Punch.
BOSWELL: Would you have no public worship?
VOLTAIRE: Yes, with all my heart. Let us meet four times a year in a great temble with music, and thank God for all his gifts. There is one sun. There is one God. Let us have one religion. Then all of mankind will be brethren.
BOSWELL: May I write in English, and you'll answer.
VOLTAIRE: Yes. Farewell.
Farewell indeed. While it's a shame Boswell didn't manage an audience with Fritz himself, this hands-down most vivacious of English language diarists of the 18th century provided us with more than enough gems.
First, a note on the source material.
Clarification first: re: Boswell's journals: they keep being edited. What I had previously read was:
- "Boswell's London Journal" - the breakout first collection that made Boswell a postumous star of diary writers (edited by Professor Pottle)
- Boswell on the Grand Tour II (frustratingly, I had not gotten my hands on Grand Tour I - II covers his time in Italy) (Pottle edition)
- Boswell's Edinburgh Journal (editor Hugh M. Milne) and
- The Journals of James Boswell (editor John Wain; this is a "best of Boswell" collection through his entire life, and based on Pottle's first edition of the journals
What I read most recently, and mainly am using for this post: James Boswell: The Journal of his German and Swiss Travels, 1764, edited by Gordon Turnbull and James J. Caudle.
This , covering the same material as "Boswell on the Grand Tour I" did, is a more scholarly directed edition than Pottle's, which aimed at the general market. Hence Pottle translating all the French dialogue Boswell transcribed into English, between him and the German nobles (though he picks up some German to talk to soldiers and servants with) , and between him and Rousseau, and a bit between him and Voltaire, on their first encounter, whereas on the second Voltaire does talk English with him. In this edition, by contrast, both the French dialogue and the occasional German (phonetically spelled, i.e. Boswell must have picked up these phrases by ear), is kept in the language Boswell wrote them down in.
The editors also provide extensive footnotes on everyone mentioned, for which they quote out of Lehndorff's diaries (not just volume 1 but the other volumes as well!) a lot. (Sadly, if the two diarists met, neither of them wrote it down. Boswell did meet EC, though.) And they're good with thoroughness, so for example the time when Boswell hears the "Fritz: lots of sex with the ladies as a young men, now impotent as a result!" gossip, there's a footnote saying essentially: Frederick's sexuality: It's complicated, and source referencing various contradictory theories.
The preface - always useful, prefaces! - also contains information on just how - i.e. by which transport means - Boswell travelled through the German principalities. This is highly useful in case anyone wants to write other 18th century people hitting the road, so, check it out:
Private carriages for several passengers could be hired by the well-to-do, as Boswell did for Lord Marischal and his group. Large stage coaches were run by the princes of Thurn and Taxis who had a monopoly protected by the Holy Roman emperors. These Boswell must have taken for longer stretches along major roads. Less well known are the regional coaches he used in Prussia and in Hessen once he travelled on his own. His descripton of the cheap public conveyance called the "journalière", which operated between Berlin and Potsdam, emphasizes its primitive construction. NO more than an open cart made of wodden planks placed over wheels, it left its passengers ata the mercy of the elements, even of tree branches at eye level.
Worse than this open Postwagen were the vehicles enclosed with leather covers that let in little air and blocked the view to the outside. After Boswell banged his head against the rion rods on the roof of one of these "monstrous machines" which were part of the local "Hessen-Post", he preferred the open conveyances. But gentlemen did not use such vehicles, open or closed. Boswell carefully changed to the more respectable Extra-Post, reserved for one or two passengers, to enter Brunswick "as a gentleman" on his return visit in August. Yet the Extra-Post, more costly than the local coaches, brought new problems with it, since the wheels had to be greased at frequent intervals - an activity reported as "Smear-Gelt" (German: Schmiergeld) in Boswell's expense account. And the Extra-Post could be slower when fresh horses were not available, as Boswell was chargrined to find on his unexpectedly prolonged trip from Dresden to Gotha.
The journal, furthermore, vividly shows the deplorable state of the roads, which were usually rough and bumpy. Wrapping himself up in his greatcoat against the cold, Boswell feared that he would be helpless if the coach overturned. When such an accident actually happened, on the way to Kassel, he and the other passengers were left in a ditch, in the dark, and in the rain. Nor was there much choice of routes even between major places. Boswell, having travelled from Leipzig to Dresden, had to return to Leipzig before he could take the main route south to Gotha ,Mannheim and Karlsruhe. A fw days later, in Langensalza, the roads 'overflowed' with liquid mud. Prhaps that was why Boswell accepted an invitation in Langensalza to ride in a coach for even a short distance. Possibly for the same reason, he engaged a sedan chair in Kassel.
Safety in the town and city streets were also a concern. IN Bruswick, no one was allowed on the street ata night without a light, as Boswell discovered when he came close to being arrested (undismayed, he considered the experience "an adventure"). In Leipzig, the famous bridge with its elaborate one-way system for pedestrians and vehicles inspired him to write down the regulations for the flow of traffic. And lodgings for travellers varied considerably in quality. They could be pleasantly luxurious, as they were for Boswell in Berlin, but inns en route were often as uncomfortable as the vehicles. On the way to Frankfurt, where he had his worst experience, he lodged in a room with fourteen other adults and three children, though being acknowledged as "Herr Baron von Boswell", he was given the one available bed. On several occasions, seeking better air, Boswell chose to sleep on a bare floor or on straw - even i a stable in spite of the possible danger of being trampled by the horses. Fortunately, he had the courage and resilience required of travellers, especially in the autumn and winter months.
Amusingly the editors also point out that Boswell by managing to get himself invited a lot in the various towns and residences he visited saved a considerable sum of money for meals. (He also promoted himself to "Baron von Boswell" in order to score all these invites, though not when gatecrashing chez Rousseau and Voltaire.
I tried to order the quotes by subject, starting with George Keith, Lord Marischal, whom Boswell brings to life in a way the various Fritz biographies I've read don't.
George Keith, Lord Marischal
George Keith, as a reminder, is distantly related to Boswell - a third cousin - which was Boswell's in. He's also not alone but in the company of his ward, a Turkish woman named Emetulla (Emet Ulla, Marie Emeté) de Froment. James Keith had rescued Emetulla as a child when his troops captured Ochakow during the Russo-Turkish war, and after James' death George Keith became her guardian. She had married one Denis-Daniel de Froment in the previous year, 1763, but had gone with George Keith to Scotland and was now returning with him to Prussia. In future years, she'd divorce her husband, with Boswell acting as essentially her divorce lawyer in order to preserve the inheritance she got from the Keiths to her and not let her husband have it. And yes, of course Boswell flirts with her a lot in this journal.
(She wasn't the only Turk whom George Keith had inherited from James Keith: there was also one Ibrahim, whom Boswell meets later ("he was to be a painter, but became a hypochondriack & has a pension from My Lord" and "Old Stepan the Calmuc", who used to be valet de chambre to first James, then George Keith, "but drank so that he was no longer to be trusted & now also has a pension".)
Oh, and another recurring thread: religion, because Boswell was another child of deeply Calvinist parents who was plagued by religious fears throughout his life.
All quotes from the year 1764, remember.
June 23: My Lord also talked of the Scots Highlanders with respect and affection, as the most brave and most generous People upon earth, and abused the harsh absurdity of our Government, for taking their cloths from them and extirpating their language by which means they will be at last reduced to a level with the other Inhabitants of Scotland; and so we shall lose the best Militia upon earth. The proper method was surely not to destroy the Highlanders, but to render them attached to the Government, which would be no difficult matter, as the Chiefs are no longer disaffected. WE came at night to Herford. I found myself a new man. My ideas were altered. I had no gloomy fears. I talked with Madame de Froment, who had been educated Mahometan & who still believed that the Great Prophet was sent from God. This opened my mind. I resolved to be prudent, nor to own my many waverings. I was quite happy. I determined to get free of the clouds which hung upon me. I determined to be manly and content.
June 25, they are in Hannover the city, and George Keith alludes to an ongoing British fear, that Hannover would get British money through the royals: My Lord joked on the tea spoons, which seemed of Gold. Ay ay the money of old England in the Hannoverian Dominions. He assumed the character of Dictionary Johnson, in order to joke in this manner. He talked of somebody having stolen gold spoons. Very natural said I. Hear the Scotsman said he.
June 30th, now they are in Magdeburg: In the afternoon My Lord was very chatty. He told me that the Marquis d'Argens was a good-natured amiable man, and much liked by the King of Prussia. He is now old. He has married an actress, whom he keeps in great subjection. He has made her learn Greek, & I don't know how many things, merely to make her of use to him in his studies. He is a miserable Being, he is Hypochondriack & terrified of death. He had worn a flannel underwaistcoat four years & durt not take it off, for fear of catching cold. The King drove out one fear by another & told him that if he persisted to wear that waistcoat, his perspiration would be entirely stop'd & he must inevitably die. The Marquis agreed to quit his waistcoat. But it had so fixed itself upon him, that pieces of his skin came away with it. My lord as usual laughed at Religious gloom. I told him he had the felicity of a sound mind, which everybody has not. Good heaven! how fortunate is one man above another!
Tuesday July 3rd: Boswell and George Keith have now arrived in Potsdam: My Lord Marischal carried me to the Palace where he has an appartment assigned him by the King. He seemed just like one who comes to a good friend's house in the country, when the friend is of somewhat higher rank than the guest. Just as I come to Englintone. It was fine to see the old Scots Nobleman lodged in the Palace of Prussia, just as if he had been in the Abbey of Holyrood house.
Sanssouci description be found below, but first, on with the Lord Marischal quotes:
Monday July 23rd: Lord Marischal dined with us at Froment's. He & I talked of Jacobitism, as how there was something pathetic & generous in it, as it was espousing the cause of a distressed & ancient Royal House. My Lord however owned that they deserved to lose the throne of Britain. I own so too. I am sorry for them. I wish to forget them; and I love from my Soul 'Great George our King'.
(Burnet is Mitchell's secretary, of whom more below in the Mitchell section. Macpherson is a Highlander soldier in Prussian service whom Boswell h as befriended.)
Wednesday 5 September: Some days ago I wrote to My Lord Marischal that Mr. Burnet and I intended this day to have the nor of eating an Olio with his Lordship. At six we set out in a clever chaise. The day was good. My spirits were fine. (...) We found all well at Potsdam. My Lord gave us an Olio which I found excellent. After dinner we went & saw the Garden and House at Sans Souci. I looked with pleasure at the King's study, which is elegant, and has its books finely bound, as at Potsdam. In his bedchamber I found some verses at a table. We then went to the Gallery, where I saw the noble room and rich pictures with true relish. We then looked at the foundation of the house which the King is going to build for My Lord, which makes his Lordship very happy. AT night Macpherson and I dressed ourselves in the highland dress, of which Macpherson had two suits, and a fine frolic did we make of it. We wrote a card 'To The Right Honourable George Earl Marischal of Scotland', 'Two Highland Gentlemen Mrssr. Mcdonald & Mcintosh beg leave to have the honour of paying their respects to the Earl of Marischal. They ask pardon for troubling him at so untimely an hour.' The direction and the word 'untimely' were exxcellent. Away we went, & Scott & Burnet behind us, past the sentinels & went to My Lord's apartment in the Palace. I asked the Servant in German for My Lord & delivered the Card. His Lordship made us welcome. We stood just within his door, bowing much. He cried, 'Come in, Gentlemen, come in'. He advanced & immediately knew us, & asked how Cows sold. He took our joke in good part. We marched home again. Going & coming we were followed on the street; for, we spoke a barbarous language. I did at least; for I made it up. I supped on Sowans hearty, & were canty Chields. Burnet had a bed, & in te same room the Highlanders lay on straw. This did I talk. Thus was I merry.
The Union is of course the one between Scotland and England.
Thursday 6 September: I rose stout & well. After breakfeast I disputed against the Union. Burnet was my Antagonist. After much warm disputation, I said, 'Sir, the love of our country is a sentiment. If you have it not, I cannot give it you by reasoning. I waited on Lord Marischal. (...) He was more affable than usual. I owned to him that I was afraid I could not do great things as a Scots Lawyer, & could wish to be in some other employement. As for the army (said he) it is too late. Then 'My Lord, might I not be employed abroad?' Sir you must begin as Secretary, & if you are not with a man to your mind, you are very unhappy. Then if you should be sent envoy if you are at a place, where there is little to do, you are idle & unhappy. If you have much to do, you are harrassed with anxiety. Well then My Lord, I would get into Parliament. No Sir. You would be obliged to stick to a Party right or wrong, thro ' thick & thro' thin. Or you must be singular & thought absurd. My Lord, if you go on, you'll chace me out of existence altogether. What say you to my following the law in Scotland moderately? jogging on between the Parliament House & Auchinleck, and sodoing pretty well. Indeed Sir I'm for your jogging on. Your Father will see that you do your best. He has a great liking for you, and you 'll very well together. Then My Lord will you write to him, that in the meantime he may allow me to travel a year? I will.
His Lordship then gave me my route by Switzerland, Italy and France. I was very happy, quite in the humour of revering the Old Earl. I thought on the Abbey of Holyrood-house. I thought of worthy Johnston. I talked with my Lord against the Union & how we had lost our spirit. I said You find Scotsmen in the Highlands. But very few south of Tay. I ought to be valued, My Lord, as a rare Scot. He took down from his book-case the history of Robert the Bruce in old verse & made me a present of it, writing upon it 'Scotus Scoto' and saying now you must read this once every year. I had almost cried before the good old man. We dined with his Lordship. After dinner Burnet & I set out. He was excellent company. His stories flew thick. He insisted I should supp with him. I did so & merry we were. Yet, my gloomy eye saw the situation of an envoy in an unpleasing light. I am an unhappy dog.
Boswell, you would not have been a good envoy. (And for different reasons as to why Lehndorff would not have been.) Cultural attaché, yes.
Thursday 20 September:
All the morning was employed in writing. I dined Froment's, & after dinner we all walked. Madame la Turque said to me Vous avez un penchant vers la Melancholie. Il vous faut beaucoup de changements. I aid: Quelle donc doit etre mon pais? She replied 'Europe. Et qui doit etre ma femme? Froment exclaimed Un Chariot de Poste. Very ludicrous & well applied.
Saturday 22 September:
I past part of the morning with his Lordship, who gave me his good advices with an accuracy & a vivacity that amazed me. He is absolutely free of affectation, which I cannot understand; for I am sadly plagued by it. He joked with me, & said Well, Colonel! may you not only conquer Portugal, but Africa; and so triumph over the Moors. I took leave of him with a most respectful and affectionate embrace saying 'My Lord, you may always reckon upon me as upon a most faithful servant. My heart was big when I took my last adieu of the venerable Scots nobleman. I yet hope to see him again. I almost cried. AT this moment the tears are in my eyes. I dined at Froment's & took leave of my poor Turk with regret. Well, she & I have past curious hours together. Honest Scott said If I come within sixty miles of you, I shall see you. Macpherson & Froment woked with me till I was out of the Gate, & then took leave. All these circumstances makr my being regarded. I mounted the post wagon. I found it cold & really hard enough. Courage!
All Things Fritz
Reminder: The Prince of Prussia is future FW2, AW's son.
Potsdam: July 3rd: At ten (Lord Marischal) carried me to the Parade, which was full of Prussian officers, all bold looking, all gay, all well-dressed. He presented me to the Prince of Prussia, calling me 'd'une tres bonne maison et fort galant homme' . (...) I then waited on Mr. Catt Reader to the King to whom I had a letter from M. de Zuyl He was sick & could not go out with me; but he was civil. I found him dry & even insipid. Madame de Froment & I dined téte á téte, after which we went & were shown the Palace which is magnificent. the King's Concert-Room is very elegant. We looked thro' a glass door & saw his Bedchamber, & a neat little library. All his books were bound in red turkie & handsomely gilt. They made me think of my dear Temple. They would have pleased him much. In the Antechamber were a good many books ,but our conductor would not allow us to lift any of them, for, he said, the King knew the exact place of every one of them. I saw Oeuvres of Voltaire, & a fine quarto edition of the Oeuvres du Philosophe de Sans-Souci. (...) I was in a humour of gallantry tonight. I was pleased with the romantic idea of making love to a Turk. However I talked morality at last & thought myself a Johnson. She seemed too indolent in body & too vivacious in mind to be a very rigid Lady. Besides her ideas were quite different from mine. Her Religion was of a kind very different from mine. Bless me. What are mortals!
Boswell sees Fritz, from a distance, the one way everyone could see him without getting an audience, attending a parade. Note that this was the year when Heinrich pissed him off by not saluting properly.
I rose fresh as a Roe on the Braes of Lochaber. I find that if I had got a Commission in a Highland Corps, I should have been as stout a Donald as the best of them. I waited on my good Lord Marischal, whom I found contented and as cheerful as ever. I then went to the Parade. I saw the King. It was a glorious Sight. He was dressed in a suit of plain blue, with a star, & a plain hat with a white feather. He had in his hand a cane. The sun shone brihgt. He stood before his palace, with an air of iron confidence that could not be opposed. As a loadstone moves needles, or a storm bows the lofty oaks, did Frederic the great make the Prussian officers submissive bend, as he walked majestic in the midst of them. I was in noble spirits & had a full relish of this grand scene, which I shall never forget. I felt a crowd of ideas. I beheld the King who has astonished Europe by his warlike deeds. I beheld (pleasant conceit!) the great defender of the Protestant Cause, who was being prayed for in all the Scots Kirks. I beheld the Philosophe de Sans Souci. I have really a little mind, with all my pride. For I thought one might well endure all the fatigues of war, in order to have an opportunity of appearing grand as this Monarch.
(Boswell will change his mind on this once he comes to Dresden; stay tuned.)
Friday 21 September:
The whim struck me to put on a blue bonnet, and appear quite a Scots Gentleman. I went in this dress to the parade of the Prince of Prussia. The Prince observed me & asked Scott Qu'est-ce que ce petit bonnet que porte ce monsieur la? Scott said: C'est le bonnet que portent les Gentilhommes Ecossois. The poor Prince did not like it much, nor could he think that he was a Lord's son who wore it. No matter - I was pleased, and boldly did I march upon the Parade before the Palace, where I again saw the King. But he did not look towards me. However I was pleased to have shown the first blue bonnet on the Prussian Parade.
And that's why your friends won't introduce you to Fritz, Boswell. Otoh, he gets to hang out with "Blancho", who the footnote tells me is the Swedish Ambassador Karl Julius, Count von Bohlen, and on Tuesday, September 4th, shares this spicy bit of gossip:
He entertained me much; being a fellow of knowledge and clear expression. He said the French music was a contrast to the French temper. The French are gay. their music is grave. A Frenchman never looks so serious, as when he sings a song. He said the King of Prussia had been sadly debauched in his youth: for he used to go to the common bawdy houses as well as to divert himself with the Ladies of the Court. He is now (said Blancho) quite impotent.
Now I would say that Blancho clearly reads anonymous trashy pamphlets, except that the anonymous pamphlet by most likely Voltaire that was published in 1752 does not yet contain the "young Fritz caught an STD during his youthful escapades, therefore can't get it up anymore now!" story. Even Voltaire's memoirs, published in 1784, which do include this story, do not feature "bawdy houses" (and, of course, no not present Fritz as having been a ladykiller in his younger days; the only woman Voltaire names as having been linked to young Fritz is poor Doris Ritter, who gets critisized for her looks. One can only conclude the implication is that the supposedly sex-crippling STDs were caught not from women in this version. OTOH, Zimmermann in the 1790s postulates that Fritz, shocked by Doris Ritter's fate, thereafter frequented only whores in order not to harm any more "good" women, caught an STD, had a bad cure recced by the Schwedt cousins, believed himself cured, spent three blissful years of fulfilled marriage with EC, had the STD recurring and thereafter lived in chaste impotence. To get back to the point: this means Boswell hearing this rumor from the Swedish envoy in 1764 is the earliest recording of said rumor I've come across.
On Wednesday, September 26th, Boswell, now in Anhalt, hears the story of Voltaire, Fritz and the laundry, in this form: M. Lestock. Gouv: de Prince spoke well - Le Roi de Prusse venoit un jour. Que faites vous Voltaire? Sire, j'arrange votre linge sale.
Which is a bit different to the version we know, but like the many versions of the last Fritz/Katte exchange, there's a shared core. Since Boswell is currently at a minor German court whose prince (AnhaltSophie's brother, married to Mina's sister and driving her to an early grave) isn't even in residence, it really must have spread far and wide.
When Boswell arrives at Dresden, he is well and truly shocked by the scars from the war, and his Fritz opinion plunges downwards. No more hero of the Protestant faith, for:
Tuesday 9 October:
I strolled about & viewed the city. It is finely built of freestone. It gave me great pain to see the ruins made by the Prussian bombardments. I hated the barbarous hero. He was under no necessity to bombard Dresden. It was from mere spite that he did it.
Naturally, Boswell visits the British envoy and his father's old pal in Berlin.
Andrew Mitchell
Belle de Zuylen is a Dutch intellectual and writer whom Boswell flirted with when studying law at Utrecht. She flirted back but didn't take him seriously (wise her!), and definitely had no intention of marrying him.
I waited on Mr. Mitchell and found him a knowing amiable easy man. He was very polite. Te talked of Mademoiselle de Zuylen 'Elle a beaucoup d' esprit.' Oui said I trop d'esprit pour les Hollandais. And who was in the room but Mr. Verelst the Dutch envoy! Mr. Mitchell turned it off with a smiling reply. 'Monsieur, c'est un beau compliment que vous faites au Ministre d'Holland.' Blockhead that I was. Let never Man blunder out reflections against any country, when he does not very well know his company.
Joseph Yorke: British envoy to The Hague. Should have replaced Mitchell as British envoy to Prussia mid war, but Fritz wouldn't have it.
July 14: I rumbled in the Journaliere to Berlin having for company amongst others Mademoiselle Dionsicus, daughter to the cook of Prince Ferdinand of Prussia. I talked words of German to this lass. I dined at Froment's, & after dinner went to Mr. Mitchell's. We talked of Sir Joseph Yorke, whom he calls Sir Joe. I told him that he seemed so anxious lest people should not know that he was Ambassador, that he held his head very high & spoke very little. And as in the infancy of painting people generally wrote 'this is a cow'. So from Sir Joe's mouth commeth a label with these words 'I am an Ambassador'. What a difference between this buckram knight & the amiable Mr. Mitchell.
Post-War, Fritz gave Monbijou to Louise to live in. As Schönhausen was getting renovated, EC is with her sister.
July 15: I dined at Mr. Mitchell's. He has an elegant house and a good table. He is polite and easy. His servants are good people, civil and attached to their master. After dinner, I played at billiards with Mr. Burnet, Secretary to Mr. Mitchell, a very good solid clever young fellow. At six the envoy carried me to Monbijou the campagne of the Princess of Prussia. Here I was presented to the Queen with whom the King has never lived. she has been handsome, and is very amiable, altho' she stammers sadly. I was presented to I don't know how many princes and princesses. I was awkward, though not afraid.
Lawyers: Mitchell and Boswell's dad both had studied law, if you'll recall. So had Boswell, though he hadn't been too keen originally, he'd dreamt of being a soldier, romantisizing the profession.
Friday 27 July: I dined with Mr. Mitchell, who always give me agreeable views. He said that in living every man must be his own director; for, our tastes are extremely different. He said if lawyers had a fixed salary, they surely could not drudge as they do. But the little refreshing presents keep them alive. He counselled me much to pursue the law in Scotland as I might by that means attain a useful and honorable station. Yet he owned that some people could not follow that profession. I said nothing but had a secret satisfaction to find that my aversion to the law was not absolutely absurd. At six we got into his excellency's coach. I told him that the Abbé Jerusalem had wished to dispute with the King of Prussia, on Religion. Indeed said Mr. Mitchell they had better save themselves the trouble; for, the King has heard all the Abbés arguments, and the Abbé has heard all the King's, and after they have said a great deal, each will retain his own opinion. Then, Sir, said I, you think truth is at the bottom of the well. Yes, said he, and I suppose will remain there some time. We went to Monbijou and payed our respects at court. Dull enough.
So much for royal glamour. :) (Lehndorff agrees, of course.) The next person we've heard of Boswell meets through Mitchell is Formey, aka the writer of all those Academy obituaries, including Peter Keith's.
I dined at Mr. Mitchell's, where was Mr. Formey perpetual Secretary to the Academy of Sciences at Berlin. He was facetious, but vain. He talked of his books, & he talked of his lectures. He said quand vous entender le tambour a neuf heures au soir, vous pouvez dire Formey lest dans son lit. He told us Mr. Gualteri a French Minister here was so hypochandriac that he caused tie his legs together at night, lest he should get up, and do himself some mischief. How strange a distemper is this!
In time, Boswell finds out Mitchell can get depressed, too:
September 5: We talked of Spleen. Burnet said that Mr. Mitchell was sadly distressed with it; that sometimes he would sit without speaking a word, & say Well I could not have thought that this could get so much the better of me. All this was really owing to his being costive, to prent which he took every proper method. He had his own box, which was constantly tied behind the coach, and with Mr. Locke's regularity did he attempt the necessary operation.
Boswell doesn't just meet exiled Scots and German nobility, though. He befriends a couple of families which I had to skip, and also, being a good tourist, checks out more than palaces and parades.
Boswell in Saxony: Tourist at Large
Here's Boswell at Wittenberg being Boswell, and I just had to share:
I saw the Convent where Luther lived, and I went to the old Church in which he first preached the Reformation. It has been miserably shattered by the Bombardments. But the Tomb of Luther is still entire as is that of Melanchthon just opposite to it. They are nothing more than two large plates of metal fixed on the floor. The y have inscriptions in raised letters. (...)
I was in a true solemn humor, and a most curious and agreeable idea presented itself, which was to write to Mr. Samuel Johnson from the tomb of Melanchthon. The woman who showed the church was a good obliging body, and very readily furnished me with pen and ink. Tht my paper might literally rest upon the monument or rather the simple epitaph of this great & good man, I laid myself down & wrote in that posture. The good woman & some more simple beings gather'd round & beheld me with wonder. I dare say they supposed me a little mad. Tombs have always been the favourit resort of gloomy distracted mortals. I said nothing of hot-headed Luther. I only mentioned the mild Melanchthon, and that at his tomb I vowed to Mr. Johnson an eternal attachment. This letter must surely give him satisfaction. I shall not send it till I see if he gives me a favourable answer to my last two letters.
At Leipzig, Boswell meets Gottsched (alas, Luise Gottsched the Émilie fan had already died):
Lying on the floor did me much good. I sprung up cheerful. Experience shall ever be my great 'Guide! (...) I went and saw the fair where there is a concourse of all nations, even of Turks. Such a scene gives me agreeable agitation of ideas. (...) We dined together with some more Germans in a house on the Horse market, where we were mighty well. I then went and called on the Professor Gottsched, one of the most distinguished Literati of this Country. It was he who set agoing the true cultivation of the German language of which he has given an excellent grammar. He has also written several pieces both in verse and prose. I found him a big comely man, with an ease of manners like a man of the world. Altho I had no recommendation, he received me with perfect politeness. We talked of Scotland, of it's language and the difference between it and English. I mentioned to him my plan of a Scots dictionary, & promised to show him a specimen of it. He said the preface to Johnson's dictionary was one of the best pieces he had ever read. Said he: Il connait le suject au fond. He advised me tait upon Mr. Bel Professor of Poetry. I did so, & found him a lively Hungarian, with a degree of French manners. He had a very good Library. I should have mentioned that Gottsched & I were quite easy together in a few minutes; and I was at once among his books. Both he and Bel promised to be of what service they could to me, during my stay there.
Bel and Gottsched make it possible that Boswell visits the Leipzig University library, which impresses him. Otoh, the only literary celebrity he meets there, Gellert, does not.
I resolved to have a noble library at Auchinleck. I saw here a volume of original manuscript letters of famous learned men in Germany. I saw Luther's bible, which the verse of St. James says that the three which bear record in heaven are one is not to be found. Bel sent my name to Gellert, a professor here, who apointed me to come to him at three. (...) They call him the Gay of Germany. He has written fables & little dramatic pieces. I found him a poor sickly creature. He said he had been twenty years hypochondriack. He said that during a part of his life, every night he thought to die, and every morning he wrote a famble. He said Ma Poesie est passée. Je n'ai plus la force d'esprit. He spoke bad Latin and worse French, so I did my best with him in German. I found him a poor mind, with hardly any science. His conversation was like that of an old Lady. (...)
I am very fond of Leipzig. The Professors here are easy men o the world. I said I regretted I had not stuided here myself. But, I would go home & marry & send a son. Give me your hand on that, said Bel. I gave it him that I would send my son to his care. Let me remember this. I supped with him in an easy way with his family. Is not this being treated with much Civility? If I ever laugh at Germans, I am a villain.
Monday, 8 October.
After sleeping all the night in a thick mist on the Postwagon, I awaked much out of order. My blood was quite stagnated, and my teeth were loose. I was alarmed. When we came to astation, I got down & danced with much vigor, which by degrees brought me to myself. (...) This day I had a pleasant drive between Meissen and Dresden. We went along the side of the Elbe. On each side of the river were beautiful rising grounds covered with vines. Pray may not we have the same in Scotland? Surely our climate differs little from that of Saxony. I saw too here & there old castles, Herrschaften's houses, seats of gentlemen. It pleased me. It was Scottish. In Brandenburg I don't remember to have seen any; and I believe they are extremely scarce. I got in good time to the beautiful city of Dresden, put up at the Hotel de Pologne, an excellent house, dressed in scarlet and Gold, & went immediately to call on Mr. Stanhope the British Envoy, for whom I had a letter from Mr. Burnet at Berlin. He was not at home. I returned to my inn & went comfortably to bed. This was a degree of luxury to me, for I had not been undressed for ten days. I am really campaigning in Germany! I like it much.
Mr. Stanhope the English Envoy is Mr. Philip Stanhope, illegitimate son of Lord Chesterfield, and the recipient of his letters that form the book on which Chesterfield's enduring fame rests.
I dined at Mr. Stanhope's. He is natural Son to the Earl of Chesterfield: but has received the education of an nobleman and been always considered, by My Lord his Father, in the best light. He is little & young, but much of a Gentleman. He abused the King of Prussia. He talked lightly of the Saxon Court, & said he tired sadly at Dresden. This was not quite the formed man. But, I liked him the better.
Monday November 12th: I have quite the disposition for travelling. When I find a court agreeable, I wish to remain there for life. I would be attaché. Were I but so fixed, oh how tired I would be. I must however learn to keep my place at Auchinleck. It is my duty as I am born a Laird. Were all the German Princes to go & live in the delicious Spain, their families would fall & I would find no courts.
With his talent for structuring his life like a novel, Boswell reserved the two most famous celebrities for the last (before moving on to Italy, that is): in Switzerland, he managed to talk his way into not one but several meetings (each) with both Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Voltaire.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau
Have just one example of his chats with the "divine Jean-Jacques". The scholarly edition renders this conversation as Boswell did, in French. Since it's longer, I'm switching to the Pottle-as-quoted-by-Wain edition, which translated it into English:
BOSWELL: For instance, I should like to have thirty women. Could I not satisfy that desire?
ROUSSEAU: Ha! Ha! If Mademoiselle were not here, I would give you a most ample reason why.
BOSWELL: But consider: if I am rich, I can take a number of girls; I get them with child; propagation is thus increased. I give them dowries, and I marry them off to good peasants who are very happy to have them. Thus they become wives at the same age as would have been the case if they had remained virgins and I, on my side, have had the benefit of enjoying a great variety of women.
ROUSSEAU: Oh, you will be landed in jealousies, betrayals and treachery.
BOSWELL: But cannot I follow the Oriental usage?
ROUSSEAU: In the Orient the women are kept shut up, and that means keeping slaves. And, mark you, their women do nothing but harm, whereas ours do much good, for they do a great deal of work.
BOSWELL: Still, I should like to follow the example of the old Patriarchs, worthy men whose memory I hold in respect.
ROUSSEAU: But are you not a citizen? You must not pick and choose one law here and another law there, you must take the laws of your own society. Do your duty as a citizen, and if you hold fast, you will win respect. I should not talk about it, but I should do it. (…)
BOSWELL: And pray tell me how I can expiate the evil I have done?
ROUSSEAU: Oh, Sir, there is no expiation for evil except good. (…)
BOSWELL: Yesterday I thought of asking a favour of you, to give me credentials as your ambassador to the Corsicans. Will you make me his Excellency? Are you in need of an ambassador? I offer you my services: Mr. Boswell, Ambassador Extraordinary of Monsieur Rousseau to the Isle of Corsica.
ROUSSEAU: Perhaps you would rather be King of Corsica?
BOSWELL: On my word! Not I. It exceeds my powers (with a low bow). All the same, I can now say, “I have refused a crown”.
ROUSSEAU: Do you like cats?
BOSWELL: No.
ROUSSEAU: I was sure of that. It is my test of character. There you have the despotic instinct of men. They do not like cats because the cat is free and will never consent to become a slave. He will do nothing to your order, as other animals do.
BOSWELL: Nor a hen, either.
ROUSSEAU: A hen would obey your orders if you could make her understand them. But a cat will understand your perfectly and not obey them.
Boswell did go to Corsica – and wrote a book about the cause of the Corsicans as a result – but went to visit the other greatest philosopher of the age and arch-rival of Rousseau first, to wit, Voltaire. Unlike Rousseau, Voltaire was fluent in English, so most of the transcripts here are in English, and they give a great, vivid impression of what Voltaire was like in his 70s.
Voltaire
First, here's Boswell's letter about the meeting to his friend William Temple:
And whence do I now write to you, my friend? From the chateau of Monsieur de Voltaire. I had a letter for him from a Swiss colonel at The Hague. I came hither Monday and was presented to him. He received me with dignity and the air of a man who has been much in the world which a Frenchman acquires to perfection. I saw him for about half an hour before dinner. He was not in spirits. Yet he gave me some brilliant sallies. He did not dine with us, and I was obliged to poist away immediately after dinner, because the gates of Geneva shut before five and Ferney is a good hour from Town. I was by no means satisfied to have been so little time with the monarch of French literature. A happy scheme sprung up in my adventurous mind. Madame Denis, the niece of Monsieur de Voltaire, had been extremely good to me. She is fond of our language. I wrote her a letter in English begging her interest to obtain fo rme the privilege of lodging a night under the roof of Monsieur de Voltaire, who, in opposition to our sun, rises in the evening. I was in the finest humour, and my letter was full of wit. I told her, 'I am a hardy and vigorous Scot. You may mount me to the highest and coldest garret. I shall not even refuse to sleep upon two stairs in the bedchamber of your maid. I saw her pass through the room where we sat before dinner."
I sent my letter on Tuesday by an express. It was shown to Monsieur de Voltaire, who with his own hand wrote this answer in the character of Madame Denis: "You will do us much honour and pleasure. We have few beds. But you will not sleep on two chairs. My uncle, though very sick, hath guessed at your merit. I know it better; for I habve seen you longer." Temple, I am your most obedient. How do you find yourself? Have you got such a thing as an old friend in this world? Is he to be valued or is he not?
I returned yesterday to this enchanted castle. The magician appeared a very little before dinner. But in the evening he came into the drawing-room in great spirits. I placed myself by him. I touched the keys in unison with his imagination. I wish you had heard the music. He was all brilliance. He gave me continues flashes of wit. I got him to speak English, which he does to a degree that made m now and then start up and cry, 'Upon my soul this is astonishing!' When he talked our language he was animated with the soul of a Briton. He had bold flights. He had humour. He ahd an extravagance; he had a forcible oddity of style that the most comical of our dramatis personae could not have exceeded. He swore bloodily, as was the fashion when he was in England. He hummed a ballad; he repeated nonsense. Then he talked of our Constitution with a noble enthusiasm. I was proud to hear thi sform the mouth of an illustrious Frenchman. At last we came upon religion. Then he did rage. The company went to supper. Monsieur de Voltaire and I remained in the drawing-room with a great Bible before us, and if ever two mortal men disputed with vehemence, we did. Yes, upon that occasion he was one individual and I another. For a certain portion of time there was a fair opposition between Voltaire and Boswell. The daring bursts of his ridicule confounded my undrstanding. He stood like an orator of ancient Rome. Tully was never more agitated than he was. He went too far. His aged frame trembled beneath him. He cried, "Oh, I am very sick; my head turns round," and he let himself gently fall upon an easy chair. He recovered. I resumed our conversation, but changed the tone. I talked to him serious and earnest. I demanded of him an honest confession of his real sentiments. He gave it me with candour and with a mild eloquence which touched my heart. I did not believe him capable of thinking in the manner that he declared to me was "From the bottom of his heart". He expressed his veneration - his love - of the Supreme Being, an dhis entire resignation to the will of Hm who is All-Wise. He expressed his desire to resemble the author of Goodness by being good hiomself. His sentiments go no farther. He does not inflame his mind with grand hopes of the immortality of the soul. He says it may be, but he knows nothing of it. And his mind is in perfect tranquility. I was moved; I was sorry. I doubted his sincereity. I called to him with emotion, 'Are you sincere?' He answered, 'Before God, I am.'
Temple, was not this an interesting scene? Wold a journey form Scotland to Ferney have been too much to obtain such a remarkable interview? I have given you the great lines. The whole conversation of the evening is fully recorded, and I look upon it as an invaluable treasure. One day the public shall have it. It is a present highly worthy of their attention. I told Monsieur de Voltaire that I had written eight quarto pages of what he had said. He smiled and seemed pleased.
Now, Boswell's notes from the conversations, mostly in English, with only a few sentences originally in French.
Thursday 27 December 1764 yes, Boswell invited himself over to Voltaire's for just after Christmas - Notes on V'oltaire's English conversation:
VOLTAIRE: Shakespeare has often two good lines, never six. A madman, by G-d, a buffoon at Bartholomew Fair. No play of his own, all old stories.
Chess. “I shall lose, by G-d, by all the saints in Paradise. Ah, here I am risind on a black ram, like a whore as I am. –
Falstaff from the Spaniards.
BOSWELL: I’ll tell you why we admire Shakespeare.
VOLTAIRE: Because you have no taste.
BOSWELL: But, Sir –
VOLTAIRE: Et penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos – all Europe is against you. So you are wrong.
BOSWELL: But this is because we have the most grand imagination.
VOLTAIRE: The most wild. Pope drives a chaise with a couple of neat trim nags but Dryden a coach and six, with postillions and all." Repeated well some passages of Dryden.
BOSWELL: What is memory? Where lodge all our ideas?
VOLTAIRE: As Thomson says, where sleeps the winds when it is calm? Thomson was a great painter. Milton, many beauties and many faujlts, as there is nothing perfect in this damned world. His imitators are unintelligible.
BOSWELL: What do you think of our comedy?
VOLTAIRE: A great deal of wit, a great deal of plot, and a great deal of bawdy-houses.
BOSWELL. You speak good English.
VOLTAIRE. Oho! I have scraps of Latin for the vicar. - Addison is a great genius. His character shines in his writings. - Dr. Clarke was a metaphysical clock. A prudish priest. He thought he had all by demonstration; and he who thinks so is a madman.
BOSWELL: Johnson is a most orthodox man, but very learned; has much genius and much worth.
VOLTAIRE: He is then a dog. A superstitious dog. No worthy man was ever superstitious.
BOSWELL: He said the King of Prussia wrote like your footboy.
VOLTAIRE. He is a sensible man. - Will you go and see the Pretender* at Rome?
BOSWELL: No. It is high treason.
VOLTAIRE: I promise you I shall not tell your king of you. I shall not betray you. You would see a bigot: a poor being.
BOSWELL: His son is worse. He is drunk every day. He kicks women and he ought to be kicked.
VOLTAIRE: Homer was the only man who took it into his head to write twelve thousand verses upon two or three battles. - It is diverting to hear them say OLD ENGLAND.
BOSWELL: Sir, "Old England", "Old Scotland", and "Old France" have experienced a quite different effect from that.
*The current Stuart claimant of the British throne.
Thursday 27th December. Notes on Voltaire's conversation, original partly in French.
VOLTAIRE: You have the better government. If it gets bad, heave it into the ocean; that's why you have the ocean all about you. You are the slaves of laws. The French are slaves of men. In France every man is either an anvil or a hammer; he is a beater or must be beaten.
BOSWELL. Yet it is a light, a genteel hammer.
VOLTAIRE: Yes, a pocket hammer. We are too mean for our governors to cut off our heads. We are on the earth; they trample us.
Saturday 29th December. Notes on Voltaire's English Conversation.
BOSWELL: When I came to see you, I thought to see a very great, but a very bad man.
VOLTAIRE: You are a very sincere.
BOSWELL: Yes, but the same sincerity makes me own that I find the contrary. Only, your Dictionaire philosophique troubles me. For instance, Ame, the soul - "
VOLTAIRE: That was a good article.
BOSWELL: No. Excuse me. Is it - immortality - not a pleasing imagination? Is it not more noble?
VOLTAIRE: Yes. You have a noble desire to be King of Europe. You say, 'I wish it, and I ask your protection in continuing to wish it.' But it is not probable.
BOSWELL: No, but all cannot be the one, and may be the other. Like Cato, we all say, 'It must be so', till we possess immortality itself.
VOLTAIRE: But before we say that this soul will exist, let us know what it is. I know not the cause. I cannot judge. I cannot be a juryman. Cicero says, poitus opiandum quam probandum. We are ignorant beings. We are the puppets of Providence I am a poor Punch.
BOSWELL: Would you have no public worship?
VOLTAIRE: Yes, with all my heart. Let us meet four times a year in a great temble with music, and thank God for all his gifts. There is one sun. There is one God. Let us have one religion. Then all of mankind will be brethren.
BOSWELL: May I write in English, and you'll answer.
VOLTAIRE: Yes. Farewell.
Farewell indeed. While it's a shame Boswell didn't manage an audience with Fritz himself, this hands-down most vivacious of English language diarists of the 18th century provided us with more than enough gems.
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- gossipy sensationalism,
- henri de catt,
- james boswell,
- johann christoph gottsched,
- leipzig,
- madame denis,
- potsdam,
- rousseau,
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