To shut the gates of mercy on mankind!

Boswell was, according to Johnson, “the best travelling companion in the world.”  In fact, for such purposes, unfailing good-humour and readiness to make talk at all hazards are high recommendations.  “If, sir, you were shut up in a castle and a new-born baby with you, what would you do?” is one of his questions to Johnson,—­a propos of nothing.  That is exquisitely ludicrous, no doubt; but a man capable of preferring such a remark to silence helps at any rate to keep the ball rolling.  A more objectionable trick was his habit not only of asking preposterous or indiscreet questions, but of setting people by the ears out of sheer curiosity.  The appearance of so queer a satellite excited astonishment among Johnson’s friends.  “Who is this Scotch cur at Johnson’s heels?” asked some one.  “He is not a cur,” replied Goldsmith; “he is only a bur.  Tom Davies flung him at Johnson in sport, and he has the faculty of sticking.”  The bur stuck till the end of Johnson’s life.  Boswell visited London whenever he could, and soon began taking careful notes of Johnson’s talk.  His appearance, when engaged in this task long afterwards, is described by Miss Burney.  Boswell, she says, concentrated his whole attention upon his idol, not even answering questions from others.  When Johnson spoke, his eyes goggled with eagerness; he leant his ear almost on the Doctor’s shoulder; his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable; and he seemed to listen even to Johnson’s breathings as though they had some mystical significance.  He took every opportunity of edging himself close to Johnson’s side even at meal-times, and was sometimes ordered imperiously back to his place like a faithful but over-obtrusive spaniel.

It is hardly surprising that Johnson should have been touched by the fidelity of this queer follower.  Boswell, modestly enough, attributes Johnson’s easy welcome to his interest in all manifestations of the human mind, and his pleasure in an undisguised display of its workings.  The last pleasure was certainly to be obtained in Boswell’s society.  But in fact Boswell, though his qualities were too much those of the ordinary “good fellow,” was not without virtues, and still less without remarkable talents.  He was, to all appearance, a man of really generous sympathies, and capable of appreciating proofs of a warm heart and a vigorous understanding.  Foolish, vain, and absurd in every way, he was yet a far kindlier and more genuine man than many who laughed at him.  His singular gifts as an observer could only escape notice from a careless or inexperienced reader.  Boswell has a little of the true Shaksperian secret.  He lets his characters show themselves without obtruding unnecessary comment.  He never misses the point of a story, though he does not ostentatiously call our attention to it.  He gives just what is wanted to indicate character, or to explain the full meaning of a repartee.  It is not till we