The Ultimate Literary Portrait
2008; Hoover Institution; Issue: 149 Linguagem: Inglês
ISSN
0146-5945
Autores Tópico(s)Themes in Literature Analysis
ResumoAMONG THE GREAT encounters of literature, none ranks higher than the one that took place between James Boswell and Samuel Johnson in Tom Davis's bookstore in Russell Street, Covent Garden on Monday, May 16, 1763. Boswell, a 22-year-old Scot with literary ambitions, had long been desiring meet the great man of English letters, but without success, and was sitting in the back parlor of the shop having tea when Johnson suddenly entered the store. The bookseller, spotting Johnson through the glass door, announced his aweful approach 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.' Things got off a less than auspicious start. Boswell, being a bit nervous, began by apologizing for his Scottish origins, which only earned him a verbal slap from Johnson, the backwardness of Scotland being one of his pet notions. And when Boswell tried rejoin the conversation, he was told off for talking about persons he did not sufficiently know. Most people, as Boswell notes, would have given up after this, but persistence was one of his primary characteristics. A week later, Boswell sought out Johnson in his lodgings in the Temple, this time with greater luck: 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 clothes looked very rusty; he had 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 peculiarities were forgotten the moment he began talk. And talk Johnson certainly did--to such an extent that he became the best-recorded person in history prior the invention of film and tape, all faithfully documented by Boswell. It is hard think of two more different people: Johnson, the towering figure of the Enlightenment, sole compiler of the Dictionary of the English language, moral essayist, and the greatest conversationalist of his age. And Boswell, the young rake, forever on the prowl for strumpets, starting with the girls at that house of ill repute, the Blue Periwig. With acute self-knowledge, Boswell once confessed: I am a weaker man than can well be imagined. My brilliant qualities are like embroidery upon gauze. Wishing to meet famous men of any description, Boswell was what today would be called a celebrity hunter. After meeting Johnson, he tracked down Rousseau, who was living in the wilds of Neuchatel after his books had been banned in France; and near Geneva he forced himself upon Voltaire (who could not speak English, as he had lost his teeth and was unable pronounce the th sound). But it was Johnson who would provide the steady rock in his life. Out of this friendship grew Boswell's ambition write Johnson's biography, and the result has become the gold standard for the genre, against which all subsequent biographies are measured and invariably fall short--a virtuoso demonstration of interviewing techniques, in-depth psychological portraiture, narrative drive, and pure fun. What is extra impressive about it is that Johnson was not a political or military figure. Except for a trip Scotland, all these men basically did was sit around and talk about life and literature. Not only does Boswell provide a portrait of Johnson in full, but 'round this massive central figure is grouped the whole of literary and artistic London: Sir Joshua Reynolds, the prominent portrait painter who became the first president of the Royal Academy; David Garrick, Johnson's pupil and the leading actor of his generation, who provides much of the mischievous fun of the biography; the poet and playwright Oliver Goldsmith, whose vanity is the butt of many a joke; the politician Richard Burke, who came closest being Johnson's equal, calling forth all Johnson's powers; and the sneaky historian Edward Gibbon, always muttering sarcastic pleasantries in a low tone of voice, but never daring confront Johnson head-on. …
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