A Very Boswell Christmas, Part III

Having found a clever way to get around Rousseau's reticence, Boswell returned on December 14 to try once again to gather moral advice from Rousseau:

I had left with him when I was last here what I called a "Sketch of My Life," in which I gave him the important incidents of my history and my melancholy apprehensions, and begged his advice and friendship. It was an interesting piece.1

Rousseau was not in a good state when Boswell visited, since his urinary problems were at an acute point. But Boswell managed to get a promise that Rousseau would see him for a quarter of an hour later the day, so he called again at four. Since he had not been granted a long interview, he went right to the point, asking Rousseau if it was possible "to live amongst other men, and retain singularity." Rousseau replied that it was, giving himself as an example. Boswell doubtfully wondered whether you could nonetheless do so and still retain a good name, to which Rousseau replied, "Oh, if you want to be a wolf, you must howl."

The discussion turned to books, of which Rousseau was quite dismissive, arguing that the mind was better off meditating on its own than following what it read in books. And from there it turned again to a subject very dear to Boswell's heart: sex. Complaining that he had found no certain moral system, Boswell asked Rousseau if he morally could have "thirty women." If he is rich, he could take a number of girls; "propagation is thus increased." Having money he could give them significant dowries, and then marry them off to "good peasants who are very happy to have them." Rousseau dismissed this as a fantasy that would land him in a tangle of jealousies. Boswell still pressed for the possibility of a harem, like the Orientals. Rousseau would have none of it:

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.2

Boswell raised the example of the Patriarchs, who had had more than one wife; but again Rousseau would not be swayed:

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 would do it.--And as for your lady, when you go back to Scotland you will say, 'Madam, such conduct is against my conscience, and there shall be no more of it.' She will applaud you; if not she is to be despised.3

So finally Boswell had maneuvered Rousseau into giving specific advice about his own life! But what, asked Boswell, if she threatens to tell her husband in retaliation? Rousseau doubted that she would, but even if she did, "you have no right to do evil for the sake of good." But how can one expiate evil already done? Rousseau's answer was the one he had given previously: Do good.

In the context of this discussion, Boswell raised the question of whether the virtuous man was really better off than the man devoted to sensual pursuits, to which Rousseau replied:

We cannot doubt that we are spiritual beings; and when the soul escapes from this prison, from this flesh, the virtuous man will find things to his liking. He will enjoy the contemplation of happy souls, nobly employed. He will say, 'I have already lived a life like that.' Whereas those who experience nothing but the vile passions which have their origin in the body will be dissatisfied by the spectacle of pleasures which they have no means of enjoying.4

After this they began to discuss professions and Boswell's relationship with his father, who very much wanted Boswell to be a lawyer. Boswell's father, Alexander Boswell, Lord Auchinleck (the name is pronounced, more or less, like Affleck), was himself a rather prominent judge and Scottish laird, and had pressed insistently for young James to take up a law career. Rousseau advised him that fathers and sons get along best if they share some amusement like shooting that puts them, even if only temporarily, on an equal footing, where jokes may be made without being disrespectful.

At this point, the conversation seems to have ended, but Boswell managed yet again to get an invitation to return, this time for dinner the next day. The invitation elated the young Scotsman, and the next day he went about in great imaginations:

I was full of fine spirits. Gods! Am I now then really the friend of Rousseau?...I was quite gay, my fancy was youthful, and vented its gladness in sportive sallies. I supposed myself in the rude world. I supposed a parcel of young fellows saying, "Come, Boswell, you'll dine with us today?" "No, gentlemen, excuse me, I'm engaged. I dine today with Rousseau." My tone, my air, my native pride when I pronounced this!5

Over dinner, which they took in the kitchen, they discussed literary matters and light topics: Rousseau's Emile, The Spectator, Samuel Johnson (on whom, of course, Boswell was something of an authority), differences in the manners of Scotland and France, jokes about cats, Voltaire (whose contempt for others Rousseau criticized), mimicry. And then they said their goodbyes.

It is with Boswell's visit that we perhaps see Rousseau's last best moments, at least so far as history has seen fit to record. Here he is, despite his health problems, charming, witty, perceptive. Some of it is perhaps simply the way Boswell writes about him in his journal, but here he does seem to have something of the quality Boswell had gone looking for: the moral sage, the great intellectual, the Wild Philosopher. Things from this point onward would not be so good for Rousseau, and we never again see him in such splendor. Shortly after Boswell's visit, on the December 27, Voltaire published (as part of their ongoing arguments), an anonymous pamphlet called How the Citizens Feel, filled with personal attacks on Rousseau. Rousseau read it on the 31st, and seems to have broken down from it, becoming increasingly paranoid and anxious. In 1766 David Hume put into effect a plan to bring Rousseau to Britain, and things, apparently better at first, really went from bad to worse. After a period of time they had a falling out. Rousseau threatened to blacken Hume's name before all the courts of Europe. Hume, always concerned with his reputation and well aware that criticisms by Rousseau could genuinely sting and bite, preemptively blackened Rousseau's. Rousseau would recover somewhat from this low point, continuing to write works of social and political philosophy; but he was no longer what he once had been.

Boswell continued on his Grand Tour and visited Voltaire around Christmas. We will save that for a further post.

To be continued.