The man who could do this was clearly of importance to those who were interested, even though in a less degree than himself, in Dr. Johnson. We may suppose that the circle of Johnson's literary friends welcomed Boswell as much for his peculiar homage to the Doctor as for his own social talents.
We must now more nearly examine that friendship, which is as much the concern of our own age as it was of Boswell's. We have considered already what it was that caused these two men to be friends; but the meanest picture of Boswell must include some account of his behaviour towards Johnson; we must review the progress of their friendship and remark the more characteristic attitudes of the biographer.
In the pages of the 'Life of Johnson' is recorded in detail, and almost without reserve, the story of the relations between these two friends. It is a story full of humour, telling of all the little peculiarities of a great man, of all the whims and foibles which we are accustomed to observe in old age and which we both like and laugh at; but it is the story also of a deep and anxious affection.
If the course of friendship ran smoothly on the whole for Johnson and Boswell, as might be expected when one of the two was so well balanced and so practically wise as the older man, yet, as must always be the case with people who are not either quite perfect or quite colourless, there were rough places here and there; and these, if responsible for no great misery, were, however, the cause of some unhappiness to both. Boswell, at all events, realised very keenly the great gulf between them; between his own sensitive, uncertain nature and Johnson's rude strength. He, probably more than most men, wanted sympathy, wanted to be understood. With what relief he speaks from his heart to Temple: 'I have not had such a relief as this for I don't know how long. I have broke the trammels of business, and am roving unconfined with my Temple.' It is unfortunate for Boswell that he expressed himself so extravagantly. We sympathise with those who are self-contained about sentiment and particularly about their own sorrows, but we have few kind feelings for those who exaggerate. And Boswell, because he was difficult to understand, was more than usually isolated: to Johnson, at all events, there must have been many matters about which he could not talk, and he was nettled sometimes by the other's blunt advice. It was unpleasant to be told by one whom he so much respected, at the moment of his first serious publication, 'The Corsican Journal,' to 'empty his head of Corsica which had filled it too long.' It must have been more than annoying when he had written to Johnson in a despondent mood (there is no reason to doubt that he was genuine in despondency) to receive his answer: 'I had hoped you had got rid of all this hypocrisy of misery. What have you to do with Liberty and Necessity? Or what more than to hold your tongue about it? Do not doubt that I shall be most heartily glad to see you here again, for I love every part about you but your affectation of distress.'