Boswell the Biographer

by George Mallory

We are pleased to find that Boswell has preserved for us the motive of Johnson, 'lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature.'[²] This is characteristic and interesting. But how deeply satisfying it is to discover that poor Hodge, as it appeared to Johnson, was 'out of countenance.'

It is not, however, only because he observed so accurately what was obviously relevant, as the appearance of Johnson, or that he saw exactly what his motives were, that Boswell was a good observer; the range of his observation is equally remarkable. He observed everything; no detail was too insignificant for his attention. It was of vital importance for him to record (in the 'Tour to the Hebrides') 'I slept in the same room with Dr. Johnson. Each had a neat bed, with Tartan curtains, in an upper chamber,' and it is well that he did so; it is highly agreeable to imagine Johnson and Boswell in this situation. It is also interesting to know that Boswell, on the following morning, found upon the table in their room a slip of paper, on which Dr. Johnson had written these words: 'Quantum cedat virtutibus aurum'; and that when Johnson turned his cup at Aberbrothick, where they drank tea, he muttered 'Claudite jam rivos pueri.' And what an invaluable devotion it was that has preserved for us so small a fact as this—that the book which Johnson presented to a Highland lass was 'Cocker's Arithmetic'!

These details are ours not by the fortune of a naturally endowed memory, but by the labour and patience and attention that trained a mind to a point of excellence. Miss Burney has left us an admirable account of Boswell's deportment when in the act of 'memorandising' Dr. Johnson's conversation, and from this we may see something of what it cost him to observe and record and remember:

In truth, when he met with Dr. Johnson, he commonly forbore even answering anything that was said, or attending to anything that went forward, lest he should miss the smallest sound from that voice to which he paid such exclusive, though merited, homage. But the moment that voice burst forth, the attention which it excited in Mr. Boswell amounted almost to pain. His eyes goggled with eagerness; he leant his ear almost on the shoulder of the Doctor; and his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable that might be uttered; nay, he seemed not only to dread losing a word, but to be anxious not to miss a breathing, as if hoping from it, latently or mystically, some information.

Miss Burney had no admiration for Boswell, and the effect of this description is merely grotesque. It is probable that Boswell was not so wholly unconscious of self in this performance as Miss Burney seems to have thought. His behaviour appears to have been absurd, in a degree unnecessary alike to his curious character and his extraordinary task. It is possible that Boswell, aware that his minute attention to Dr. Johnson was a rather laughable affair, tried by a sort CONCENTRATION of buffoonery to avoid the natural consequence. Boswell, when he imitates Dr. Johnson in his presence, and when his eyes goggle with eagerness, was perhaps attempting to divert the company by caricaturing what was already ridiculous.

But however that may be, Miss Burney's account is no doubt faithful enough as regards the original motive of the biographer's behaviour; his eyes goggled with a genuine eagerness. That exclusive attention was the attention of one who had a difficult task to perform and was extremely anxious to perform it.

Boswell's infinite capacity for concentration in observing and recording, and for patience in collecting and preserving the smallest facts, is indeed an essential part of his genius; for genius, whenever it achieves anything, implies devotion, implies the relentless pursuit of its object, however small the actual result of the moment may seem when compared to the trouble which has been expended upon it. And this capacity for concentration enabled Boswell not merely to observe and record what he saw and heard, but to seek continually for any information, however it was to be obtained, which might be of value to him.

It is easy to see from many passages in the early portion of the 'Life'—the portion, that is, which deals with Johnson before Boswell made his acquaintance, and which naturally required the greatest labour, in collecting and investigating material, on the part of the biographer—how much trouble Boswell took. In order to obtain a copy of the famous letter to Lord Chesterfield he tells us:

I for many years solicited Johnson to favour me with a copy of it, that so excellent a composition might not be lost to posterity. He delayed from time to time to give it me; till at last, in 1781, when we were on a visit at Mr. Dilly's, at Southill in Bedfordshire, he was pleased to dictate it to me from memory. He afterwards found among his papers a copy of it, which he had dictated to Mr. Baretti, with its title and corrections in his own handwriting. This he gave to Mr. Langton; adding that if it were to come into print, he wished it to be from that copy. By Mr. Langton's kindness, I am enabled to enrich my work with a perfect transcript of what the world has so eagerly desired to see.

It appears that, though he had at last succeeded in obtaining a copy from Johnson, he was willing to take the further trouble of getting Mr. Langton's copy, which was more likely to be absolutely accurate. Still more remarkable is the manner in which he discovered the facts about Johnson's pension: