The greatest work of biography ever written, beyond all doubt, is James Boswell’s Life of Dr Samuel Johnson.
Why?
Firstly because Johnson was an extremely interesting man. He combined several qualities rarely found in the same person:
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He had an exceptionally brilliant, sharp, and quick intellect, and could out-argue the greatest figures of his time, leading politicians, lawyers, academics, etc.
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He had an almost photographic memory and was extremely widely read, so that someone remarked that he was ‘a walking library’.
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He had a wonderful sense of humour and a quick wit. He was famous for his entertaining conversation, in an age that highly valued good conversation. And it’s still entertaining today. If he were alive now, he would be on TV talk shows every day.
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He was a good man, generous to a fault (though he never had much money), self-deprecating, caring deeply about the poor, promoting education and independence for women, strongly opposed to slavery and colonialism.
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Last but not least, he was perhaps the world’s greatest ever genius in plain, simple, down-to-earth common sense. He had a profound and practical knowledge of human nature.
Boswell was one of Johnson’s closest friends for more than 20 years, and recorded conversations with him most of that time. Boswell himself is a brilliant and entertaining writer, and a fascinating person, well-known and respected in own time. He is sometimes misunderstood because he liked to make fun of himself.
Boswell wrote a ‘warts and all’ biography of Johnson. We see all Johnson’s faults, foibles, eccentricities, and humanity as well as his brilliance and insights. We see him at his best and at his worst. Other people at that time who knew Johnson well, uniformly agree that the picture is accurate.
Someone once said that reading the Life of Johnson is like looking through a window into the 18th century.
You see all the little details of everyday life. You are like a fly on the wall at dinners with the great and famous, casual conversations with ordinary people, journeys in carriages with Johnson, walks though the street, meals in inns.
The first part of the Life is less interesting (but still good), before Boswell met Johnson - then it becomes unputdownable.
A few samples (spoilered for length):
Bowell visits Johnson's house for the first time
He received me very courteously; but, it must be confessed, that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress, were sufficiently uncouth.
His brown suit of cloaths 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.
But all these slovenly particularities were forgotten the moment that he began to talk. …
Some gentlemen, whom I do not recollect, were sitting with him; and when they went away, I also rose; but he said to me, ‘Nay, don’t go.’
‘Sir, (said I,) I am afraid that I intrude upon you. It is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you.’
He seemed pleased with this compliment, which I sincerely paid him, and answered, ‘Sir, I am obliged to any man who visits me.’
Rowing down to Greenwich
On Saturday, July 30, Dr. Johnson and I took a sculler at the Temple-stairs, and set out for Greenwich. I asked him if he really thought a knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages an essential requisite to a good education.
JOHNSON. ‘Most certainly, Sir; for those who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. Nay, Sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much connected with it.’
‘And yet, (said I) people go through the world very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without learning.’
JOHNSON. ‘Why, Sir, that may be true in cases where learning cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning, as if he could sing the song of Orpheus to the Argonauts, who were the first sailors.’
He then called to the boy, ‘What would you give, my lad, to know about the Argonauts?’
‘Sir (said the boy,) I would give what I have.’
Johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we gave him a double fare.
Dr. Johnson then turning to me, ‘Sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind; and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge.’
Johnson in his 80s inteacting with a teenage girl at tea
JOHNSON. ‘Ladies set no value on the moral character of men who pay their addresses to them; the greatest profligate will be as well received as the man of the greatest virtue, and this by a very good woman, by a woman who says her prayers three times a day.’
Our ladies endeavoured to defend their sex from this charge; but he roared them down!
‘No, no, a lady will take Jonathan Wild as readily as St. Austin, if he has three-pence more; and, what is worse, her parents will give her to him.’
Miss Adams mentioned a gentleman of licentious character, and said, ‘Suppose I had a mind to marry that gentleman, would my parents consent?’
JOHNSON. ‘Yes, they’d consent, and you’d go. You’d go though they did not consent.’
MISS ADAMS. ‘Perhaps their opposing might make me go.’
JOHNSON. ‘O, very well; you’d take one whom you think a bad man, to have the pleasure of vexing your parents! You put me in mind of Dr. Barrowby, the physician, who was very fond of swine’s flesh. One day, when he was eating it, he said, ‘I wish I was a Jew.’ ‘Why so? (said somebody); the Jews are not allowed to eat your favourite meat.’ ‘Because, (said he,) I should then have the gusto of eating it, along with the pleasure of sinning.’
Johnson then proceeded in his conversation.
Miss Adams soon afterwards made an observation that I do not recollect, which pleased him much: he said with a good-humoured smile, ‘That there should be so much excellence united with so much depravity, is strange.’
Indeed, this lady’s good qualities, merit, and accomplishments, and her constant attention to Dr. Johnson, were not lost upon him. She happened to tell him that a little coffee-pot, in which she had made his coffee, was the only thing she could call her own.
He turned to her with a complacent gallantry, ‘Don’t say so, my dear; I hope you don’t reckon my heart as nothing.’
