約翰遜博士是十八世紀英國文壇的祭酒，他曾費時七年獨立完成睥睨英國文壇的《英文字典》，而他如大熊星座般君臨眾星的魅力，則在他那充滿人生智慧的談論對話、罕見的巧妙言談、那意想不到的比喻、卓越的修辭、洋溢的機智中體現，這使得史蒂文森每天都要像讀《聖經》那樣讀上一些，英國語言學傢喬艾特更是為之著迷，前後手不釋捲地讀瞭五十遍。作者包斯威爾從二十三歲起便與約翰遜成瞭忘年的莫逆之交，他立誌把這位文壇巨擘一點一滴挖掘齣來。對愛好智慧的現代人來說，本書正是一座睿智的寶庫。在這部韆古絕唱的傳記中，讀者除瞭看到因緬懷往事而産生的逼人纔華、光彩奪目的文字外，還可看到包氏本人的悲劇精神，及由此而生所洋溢的兩位不平凡人物的溫馨友情。近代傳記大師莫洛亞曾贊嘆包氏是現代傳記文學之父。此書業已成瞭世界最偉大不朽之傳記文學的經典之作。讀者可以每十年看一次，而且愈看愈有味，同時領會傑齣傳記傢所賦予人的曆史生命以永恒的不朽性。

James Boswell is for some the ideal scribe, for others a sycophantic toady. Edmund Wilson, for example, memorably labeled him "a vain and pushing diarist." Boswell can even be seen as someone unconsciously intent on undermining his idol in sonorous, balanced sentences. Early on in his massive Life, he puts all manner of ideas into our heads with his boobish attempts to clear the youthful Johnson of potential impropriety: "His juvenile attachments to the fair sex were, however, very transient; and it is certain that he formed no criminal connection whatsoever." And while it's often tempting to ignore Boswell's more personal intrusions and delight solely in the melancholic master's words and deeds, there are suchdelightful admissions as, "I was at this time so occupied, shall I call it? or so dissipated, by the amusements of London that our next meeting was not till Saturday, June 25..."

Samuel Johnson was born in 1709 and died in 1784--a long life, though one marred by depression and fear of death. On April 20, 1764, for example, he declared, "I would consent to have a limb amputated to recover my spirits." Many of the quotes Boswell includes are a sort of greatest hits: Johnson's definitions of oats and lexicographer, his love for his cat Hodge, as well as thousands of bon, and mal, mots. ("Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel"; "Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.") But there are also many unfamiliar pleasures--Boswell's accounts of Johnson's literary industry, including the Dictionary, The Rambler, and Lives of the Poets; Johnson's singular loathing for Scotland and France; and the surprising hints of revelry. Awakened at 3 AM by friends, he greets them with, "What, is it you, you dogs! I'll have a frisk with you." This at age 42. Johnson's final years were marked by pain and loneliness but certainly no loss of wit.