BOSWELL'S DUTCH FLIRTATION

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'A DUTCH charmer called Zélide.'

That is Mr. Thomas Seccombe's solitary reference to the subject in his Introduction to Boswell's Letters to W. J. Temple, in which Zélide is mentioned about half a dozen times. It appears from the Letters that Boswell had some thought of marrying Zélide-and that Zélide was willing-but that Boswell withdrew, partly because his father and friends entreated him to do so, but partly for more personal reasons: .

As for Zélide, I have written to her that we are agreed. My pride (say I) and your vanity would never agree: it would be like the scene in our burlesque comedy, 'The Rehearsal -'I am the bold thunder,' cries one; 'The quick lightning I,' cries another, 'et voilà notre ménage.'

So the curtain falls, and the two lives drift apart; and the identity of Zélide is left wrapped in mystery. Temple obviously knew who she was; so that there was no reason for Boswell to explain. Mr. Seccombe presumably did not know, or he would have told. Leslie Stephen, who contributed Boswell's life to the Dictionary of National Biography, frankly admitted his ignorance, merely suggesting that Zélide was probably identical with the Mlle. de Zuyl mentioned in Boswelliana. But Mlle. de Zuyl only appears in Boswelliana as the heroine of a quite unimportant anecdote which does as little towards fixing her identity as the name of Zélide itself. Mlle. de Zuyl' means as little to the casual English reader as 'Miss Jones' or Miss Smith' would mean. It is not even the lady's correct name, but only an Englishman's imperfect recollection of it; and it has been reserved for a later chronicler to find out who Mlle. de Zuyl-or Zélide-actually was.

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The discovery, of course, would have had no importance if she had turned out to be nobody in particular. Its interest lies in the fact that she was a woman of great note in her day, and is not yet forgotten, though it is not as Mlle. de Zuyl that the world knew or knows her. Boswell's flirtation, in short-or his entanglement,' if anyone prefers to call it so-very nearly united him to one of the most distinguished women novelists. of her day; and the elucidation of the story links up the love

affairs of four separate countries-England, Holland, Switzerland, and France. For the Zélide of the Letters, and the Mlle. de Zuyl of Boswelliana, was Isabella van Tuyl van Serooskerken van Zuylen, and Isabella van Tuyl van Serooskerken van Zuylen became Mme. de Charrière, the famous author of Caliste and the Lettres Neuchâteloises, who fell in love with Benjamin Constant, who threw her over for Mme. de Staël.

The story is told in M. Philippe Godet's Madame de Charrière et ses Amis, printed at Geneva in 1906-two years before the appearance of Mr. Seccombe's edition of Boswell's Letters. Mr. Seccombe might, therefore, theoretically, have known all about it; but it would have needed a happy accident to bring the discovery under his notice. M. Godet was not writing for English students of Boswell, and was unaware that he had discovered anything that they did not know already. Those English students, on the other hand, could not be expected to guess that the Life of a Swiss novelist, published in Switzerland, would clear up a Boswell mystery. It was by the merest chance that the present writer picked up the volume at an idle hour and discovered that it did so-and also discovered, incidentally, that there was another side to Boswell's story of the breaking off of his engagement. It is distinctly a story to be told.

Belle van Zuylen, as she was commonly called, was born in 1740-the same year as Boswell himself. Her family was one of the oldest in Holland-noble since the twelfth century— and possessed an estate a few miles from Utrecht. She was not beautiful, but was clever, witty, and well educated; had visited England and learnt the English language well enough not only to read and talk it, but also to write it: she was particularly fond of reading the Spectator. She also had English (or at least Irish) connexions-one of her cousins became Lady Athlone. Zélide seems to have been a name which she playfully coined for herself. There exists a character sketch of her in her own handwriting headed: Portrait de Mlle. de Z . . . sous le nom de Zélide, fait par elle-même. An extract from it may serve to introduce her:

Sympathetic by temperament, liberal and generous by inclination, Zélide is only good by principle: when she is sweet-tempered and easy to get on with, be grateful to her, for she is making an effort. When she is polite and patient for any length of time with people she does not care about, a double portion of your esteem is due, for she is making a still greater effort. She was born vain, and now her vanity has no limits, thanks to her knowledge of men and her contempt for them. Indeed, she goes further in that direction than, in cold blood, she thinks she ought to. She is already of opinion that glory is nothing if it has to be purchased at the price of happiness; but she would nevertheless do a good deal to win glory.

When will the light of the intellect command obedience from the inclinations of the heart? When that happens, Zélide will cease to be a coquette. Sad contradiction! Zélide, who would not beat a dog without good reason, or harm the most miserable insect, likes now and again to make a man unhappy, merely for her amusement-merely to win a kind of glory which does not even flatter her intelligence, and only titillates her vanity for a moment. . . .

. . . You will ask me perhaps whether Zélide is beautiful, or only pretty, or only passable. I do not know-it depends upon whether you like her, and whether she wishes to make you like her. She has a good figure, and she knows it, and lets you see just a little more of it than is quite consistent with perfect modesty. Her hands are not white. She knows that too, and jokes about it; but she would rather be without that particular motive for jesting.

Tender and refined in her feelings, she cannot find happiness either through love or without it; but Friendship never had a temple more holy or more worthy of her than Zélide. Finding her sensibility too great to allow her to be happy, she has almost ceased to hope for happiness. Realising the vanity of her plans and the uncertainty of her future, she concentrates herself on the attempt to make the most of the moments as they pass.

And now you have guessed it. There is just a little of the voluptuous in Zélide's disposition. Her imagination can be gay even when her heart is sad...

It is very clever; and the question arises whether the cleverness attracts or repels. A young woman who so adroitly pulls herself to pieces in order to show how the wheels of her mind go round is apt to be an object not only of admiration but also of alarm. The suspicion prevails that she will not stop at self-analysis but may also examine her friends and neighbours with a too penetrating candour; and evidence is not wanting that Belle van Zuylen had that habit. She wrote a novel -or perhaps only a novelette-in which she satirised the simpleminded and slow-witted Dutch aristocracy. It was issued anonymously, but it was known to be hers. Territorial magnates, dowagers, and squireens all appeared in it in a ridiculous light. The consequence was that Belle van Zuylen was felt to be formidable. Eligible young Dutchmen were, as a rule, afraid to marry her; while she, on her part, severely snubbed the few who showed an inclination to do so. She remained single rather long, and her parents began to feel anxious. As the years passed, she herself began to share their anxiety. She looked to marriage not so much for romance as for emancipation. The dependence of my position bores me,' she wrote. 'I should feel much better off if I were a free woman.'

So the eligible Dutchmen being dismissed, there were negotiations with eligible foreigners; and it is as one of those eligible foreigners-not all equally eligible-that Boswell comes into the story. Probably, if Belle could have had her way, she would

have married Benjamin Constant's cousin, Constant d'Hermenches, a colonel in the Dutch service, who had been wounded at Fontenoy. He, at least, was clever enough to understand her and not to be afraid of her; he was a wit and a friend of Voltaire, and Belle was, beyond doubt, more nearly in love with him than with any of the others. Unfortunately, however, he was married already-none too happily-and could fill no better rôle than that of Belle's confidant and correspondent. He told her what he thought of his wife:

You know very well that I made an ill-assorted marriage with a woman seven years older than myself, dowerless, in poor health, with little intelligence, and a very insipid character. That, in fact, is matter of common knowledge. In spite of that, I have redeemed the error of a young man of twenty, and of parents too indifferent to their son's happiness, by making that woman happy, by helping her to shine, by thinking, writing, and talking for her. . . . I have never allowed my dissatisfaction to be seen, because she was gentle, virtuous, and well behaved. Still, she is getting bad tempered as she gets older.

And so on, for four pages. One quotes only to show the tone of the correspondence and the points of view of the correspondents. They seem to have felt themselves linked, as it were, by the freemasonry of superior intelligence-entitled, therefore, to discuss persons on a lower intellectual plane as freely as they would discuss the lower orders, or perhaps even the lower animals. So when Constant d'Hermenches has thus discussed his wife, Belle van Zuylen proceeds to discuss her suitors. They defile before us in her letters-a distinguished procession, mostly distinguished by titles: a van Tuyl cousin, a Rheingrave of Salm, a Baron of Holstein, a Count of Anhalt, a Marquis of Bellegarde, and, finally, James Boswell, not to mention a Count of Wittgenstein, and Lord Wemyss.

There is no need-and indeed there is no material-for telling the stories of all the courtships in detail. One gathers that the Count of Anhalt was rejected because he would only woo by proxy, and that M. de Bellegarde retired from the competition because he was a Catholic and could not obtain the Pope's dispensation for a mixed marriage. One also gathers that Belle van Zuylen did not weep for the loss of either of them. About the fortunes of the others-always excepting Boswell-we must be content to repress a curiosity which we have not the means of gratifying.

What Boswell was doing at Utrecht we can only guess. Presumably he came there by accident, because it was on the pre-arranged route of his 'grand tour '-or because he had letters of introduction which he wished to present-and stayed on because he had met Belle van Zuylen and found her attractive.

We hear nothing of the commencement of the acquaintance; but the first reference to it shows Boswell already on a footing of familiarity with the van Zuylen household. 'He is a great friend of mine,' Belle writes. My father and mother have a very high opinion of him, so that he is always welcomed when he comes to see me.' And, in another letter, she says:

Boswell told me the other day that, though I was a charming creature, he would not marry me, even if I had the Seven United Provinces for my dowry. I thought that very good.

It is impossible to say whether that declaration was meant, when it was made, to be taken literally; but the sentiments which inspired it are made clear by the one letter from Boswell to Belle van Zuylen which has been preserved in the family archives and was lent to Mme. de Charrière's biographer. Boswell was fascinated; but he was also conscious of obstacles. He was disconcerted by Belle's religious scepticism, her interest in philosophy, her addiction to frivolity, and her love of pleasure. So he went to Berlin, and thence wrote her a long letter of remonstrance on all these points. It will be observed that he was sufficiently intimate to be allowed to address her as ' Zélide'; and the fact that he does so establishes the identity of Zélide beyond all possibility of dispute or doubt. 'Favourite of Nature,' he begins; and then he proceeds to pour forth his voluminous advice:

Permit me, my dear Zélide, to persuade you to abandon your addiction to pleasure and to seek a quiet happiness. Believe me, God has not destined us to taste much happiness in this world.

He then formulates, at length, his faith in the Christian verities, and continues:

You see that your friend is very fortunate in all that concerns the important matter of religion. Take, I beg of you, the firm resolution never to preoccupy yourself with metaphysics. Speculations of that order are absurd for a man, and more than absurd for a woman.

Consider your numerous material advantages: you are the daughter of one of the first families of the Seven Provinces; you have numerous and exalted relations; you have a sufficient fortune, and I must not forget to add that Zélide is beautiful. You have every reason to look forward to a distinguished marriage; you may hope to play an amiable and respectable part in life. Your talents and your accomplishments are capable of conferring great honour upon you. But take care: if all these charming qualities of yours are not governed by prudence, they may be very injurious to you.

If you abandon yourself to your caprices, you may experience here and there a short-lived and feverish joy but no durable satisfaction. It seems to me that you ought to believe me: I am neither a minister of religion nor a doctor; I am not even a lover. I am only a travelling gentleman who has conceived a great attachment to you and has your happiness at heart.