It is remarkable, as we have observed, in view of his personal animosities, and of his determination to prove Dr. Johnson to be both a greater and a better man than would appear from previous accounts, and to be an extremely dignified man as fitted his own conception of him, that Boswell should have presented a complete picture of Johnson—that he should have mentioned all the incidents from which he might appear both a less important and a less pleasant man—all the circumstances that might detract from his dignity.
The explanation which seems so simple and involves, when we come to understand all that it means, not only the exact shades of what the author said, but many things that he refrained from saying, is that Boswell in this particular sphere, the sphere of the biographer, was entirely truthful. And truth meant far more than that he did not distort the facts and did not suppress them; it involved in him the capacity for creating, the essential quality of his genius. Boswell had in fact the scientific spirit and applied it to the greatest of all subjects, to human nature. He was, in the first place, extremely accurate both in observing and recording; he watched attentively and often; and he described patiently what he had seen and heard. The biographer's own pen has given us a short account of his qualifications, as they appeared to him, for the task of writing the life of Johnson:
'As I had the honour and happiness of enjoying his friendship for upwards of twenty years; as I had the scheme of writing his life constantly in view; as he was well apprised of this circumstance, and from time to time obligingly satisfied my inquiries, by communicating to me the incidents of his early years; as I acquired a facility in recollecting and was very assiduous in recording his conversation, of which the extraordinary vigour and vivacity constituted one of the first features of his character; and as I have spared no pains in obtaining materials concerning him, from every quarter where I could discover that they were to be found, and have been favoured with the most liberal communications by his friends; I flatter myself that few biographers have entered upon such a work as this, with more advantages; independent of literary abilities, in which I am not vain enough to compare myself with some great names who have gone before me in this kind of writing.'[1]
With this statement we may heartily agree; but all that it really says is that Boswell had opportunities, and acquired a faculty, for recording. He had, besides, a quite remarkable faculty of acute observation. POWERS OF OBSERVATION All that he says of Johnson's appearance, his clothes, his walk, that truly horrible paragraph about his nails and knuckles, is admirable, because he tells us in a few words exactly what is most characteristic. The event of his first visit to Dr. Johnson was naturally an occasion for Boswell to describe his hero:
His brown suit of clothes looked very rusty; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way of slippers.
That is all! And what more or what less could anyone want? In the 'Tour to the Hebrides' it is recorded that
He wore ... a very wide brown cloth great-coat, with pockets which might have almost held the two volumes of his folio 'Dictionary'; and he carried in his hand a large English oak stick.
What a difference it makes to our knowledge of Johnson that we know these details! Boswell compels us to see Johnson. Plenty of men would have noticed what he noticed, but few would have presented it so vividly. Boswell's superiority depends upon his powers as an observer; he saw things clear and strong, and so they are clear and strong for his readers.
And Boswell excelled not only in painting the mere exterior; he often alludes to the spirit that it expresses with the same dexterity. 'Generally,' he says, speaking of Johnson in the course of a dispute, 'when he had finished a period, by which time he was a good deal exhausted by violence and vociferation, he used to blow out his breath like a whale. This I suppose was a relief to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the arguments of his opponents fly like chaff before the wind.' We are told the physical details, but so much more! The whole attitude of Johnson is described. Similarly all the little touches, as when Johnson 'sprung away with a kind of pathetick briskness,' reveal his feelings with startling fidelity. Perhaps most remarkable of all is the account of Johnson's behaviour to his cat:
I never shall forget the indulgence with which he treated Hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature.... I recollect him one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend, smiling and half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and pulled him by the tail; and when I observed he was a fine cat, saying, 'Why yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this'; and then as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, adding, 'but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.'