' Boswell: 'I
said to-day to Sir Joshua, when he observed that you _tossed_ me sometimes,
I don't care how often or how high he tosses me when only friends are
present, for then I fall upon soft ground; but I do not like falling upon
stones, which is the case when enemies are present. I think this is a
pretty good image, sir.' Johnson: 'Sir, it is one of the happiest I ever
have heard.'"
Is there anything more delicious outside Falstaff and Bardolph, or Don
Quixote and Sancho Panza? Indeed, Bardolph's immortal "Would I were with
him wheresoe'er he be, whether in heaven or in hell," is in the very spirit
of Boswell's devotion to his hero.
It was his failings as much as his talents that enabled him to work the
miracle. His lack of self-respect and humour, his childish egotism, his
love of gossip, his naive bathos, and his vulgarities contributed as much
to the making of his immortal book as his industry, his wonderful verbal
memory, and his doglike fidelity. I have said that his greatness is only
reflected.
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