Boswell the Biographer. George Mallory

no doubt the unhappiness of Boswell, but it also involved the production of a great work of art; and this achievement has won for its author a unique place among distinguished men; he is famous beyond any fame that he dreamed of attaining and failed to attain.

1: Joint.

2: I have not seen a copy; v. Fitzgerald, Life of Boswell i. 37–38, and Life of Garrick.

      

      CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

      'The accident,' says Professor Raleigh,¹ 'which gave Boswell to Johnson and Johnson to Boswell is one of the most extraordinary pieces of good fortune in literary history.' The event of their meeting took place on May 16th, 1763, and if in one sense it was clearly, as the word is commonly used, an accident, it was equally the result of a strong wish and intention, if not of deliberate design, on Boswell's part. He had long known of Johnson, and as early as 1760 had hoped for an introduction from 'Mr. Derrick, the poet,' 'an honour,' he says, 'of which I was very ambitious.' This honour bestowed eventually upon a vain and extravagant youth (a circumstance which must be highly esteemed among the good gifts of the Lady Fortune to humanity) was to be attained through a humble agent. Among those of Boswell's friends who were not of the higher strata in society was one Tom Davies. He was at this time a bookseller, but as he had been formerly an actor and then dramatic critic, there was something uncommon and adventurous MEETING WITH JOHNSON about his career. He had in fact in some degree the equivalent of what has been known at a later date as Bohemianism. It seems particularly appropriate that Boswell should have forgotten the pride of birth to meet so, in humble circumstances, the object of his devotion. The scene which took place in Tom Davies' back-parlour has the essence of true comedy. Two of the actors are light-heartedly unconscious that the moment has the least importance; the third is painfully and anxiously aware that it is important to him, and naturally unaware that it can have a value to anyone else. And it has, too, that dramatic quality of great events taking place by accident, as it seems, among incongruous circumstances. It is a scene which must kindle always, for one who feels a serious value in humour, an emotion beyond mere pleasure.

      The comedy opens by Tom Davies announcing the eventful news in farcical manner.

      At last, on Monday the 16th of May, when I was sitting in Mr. Davies's back-parlour, after having drunk tea with him and Mrs. Davies, Johnson unexpectedly came into the shop; and Mr. Davies having perceived him, through the glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us—he announced his aweful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of Horatio, when he addresses Hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, 'Look, my Lord, it comes. … '

Boswell, who at once became nervous, had only time to give a warning to Davies, and the latter maliciously said the one thing he had been asked not to say. 'Mr. Davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. I was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the Scotch, of which I had heard much, I said to Davies, "Don't tell where I come from."—"From Scotland," cried Davies roguishly.' This was apparently a disastrous beginning, and something must be done to retrieve the position. '"Mr. Johnson," said I, "I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it."' It was rash indeed to originate the conversation and not less typical of Boswell for that. But a more pleasing remark could hardly be imagined, at once courteous and frank and full of humour.² Johnson no doubt appreciated it very well, and the more because he was able to find an excellent repartee. For the moment, however, Boswell seemed to be involved in fresh calamity. 'This speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression, "come from Scotland," which I used in the sense of being of that country; and, as if I had said that I had come away from it, or left it, FIRST TALK WITH JOHNSON retorted, "That, Sir, I find, is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help."' Boswell for the moment was completely crushed: 'This stroke stunned me a good deal,' and he now found himself left out of the conversation, in which situation he felt that he was unlikely to make a very favourable impression. 'He then addressed himself to Davies: "What do you think of Garrick? He has refused me an order for the play for Miss Williams, because he knows that the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings."' No opportunity must be missed, and youth is prompted by enthusiasm. 'Eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, I ventured to say, "O, Sir, I cannot think Mr. Garrick would grudge such a trifle to you!"' If this was bold it was at least both genuine and polite, and the reproof was severe though Boswell admits its justice. '"Sir," (said he, with a stern look) "I have known David Garrick longer than you have done: and I know no right you have to talk to me on the subject."' 'Perhaps' Boswell continues, 'I deserved this check; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the justice of his animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil. I now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which I had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. And, in truth, had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. Fortunately, however, I remained upon the field not wholly discomfited; and was soon rewarded by hearing some of his conversation.'

      Eventually, when he went away, Davies made some encouraging remarks: 'Tom Davies followed me to the door; and when I complained to him a little of the hard blows which the great man had given me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying, "Don't be uneasy. I can see he likes you very well!"' The evidence that Johnson liked him very well was not very convincing, we may suppose, to Boswell. But he called upon Johnson a week later.

      In the account of Boswell's first visit to Dr. Johnson's house there is one instructive passage:

      He told me that he generally went abroad at four in the afternoon, and seldom came home till ten in the morning. I took the liberty to ask if he did not think it wrong to live thus, and not make more use of his great talents. He owned it was a bad habit. On reviewing, at the distance of many years, my journal of this period, I wonder how, at my first visit, I ventured to talk to him so freely, and that he bore it with so much indulgence.

      Clearly Boswell was good at saying what he thought—the remark about Garrick and the question as to the morality of Johnson's habits, so early in their acquaintance, show this; he is himself amazed, at a JOHNSON LIKES BOSWELL later date, 'how I ventured to talk so freely.' It is this candour, in fact, which particularly attracted Johnson. His fame for brilliant argument and crushing repartee, and his unbending dogmatic manner in conversation, prevented very often the course of free and fearless expression in his presence. The young, too, from their supposed ignorance, have still something of the privilege of childhood in saying what they think without offending. It is refreshing to older men to hear the frank opinions of youth; and it was very characteristic of Johnson that he liked people to speak quite openly upon serious subjects, so long as they were sincere.

      It is easy enough indeed to see why the two became friends. Boswell was attractive to Johnson in more ways than one. His outspokenness was happily blended with more gentle softening qualities, which made it modest and appealing rather than over-confident and repelling. He expressed, by his 'light pleasantry to soothe and conciliate him'—and also, we may suppose, by something respectful in his manner—a frank admiration for Johnson. And though some may say that this attitude—flattery one might almost call it (for it is something very near to that)—is repulsive to them, there are very few people in practice who, when it is managed with sufficient dexterity, do not find in it something peculiarly pleasant. Johnson certainly liked to have admirers, and it was Boswell's nature to admire—but not in a mean or servile fashion. He managed, one may suppose, to make Johnson feel pleased with himself, but without lying and without compromising his own opinions. We may see the attitude which he adopted from