upon his own judgment, his Satire, called "London," which was an imitation of one of Juvenal, whose gravity and severity of expression he possessed. He there and then discovered how able he was "to catch the manners living as they rise." The poem had a great sale, was applauded by the public, and praised by Mr. Pope, who, not being able to discover the author, said "he will soon be deterré." In 1738 he luckily fell into the hands of his other early patron, Cave. His speeches for the Senate of Lilliput were begun in 1740, and continued for several sessions. They passed for original with many till very lately. But Johnson, who detested all injurious imposition, took a great deal of pains to acknowledge the innocent deception. He gave Smollett notice of their unoriginality, while he was going over his historical ground, and to be upon his guard in quoting from the Lilliput Debates. It is within recollection, that an animated speech he put into the mouth of Pitt, in answer to the Parliamentary veteran, Horace Walpole, was much talked of, and considered as genuine. Members of parliament acknowledge, that they reckon themselves much obliged for the printed accounts of debates of both Houses, because they are made to speak better than they do in the Senate. Within these few years, a gentleman in a high employment under government was at breakfast in Gray's-Inn, where Johnson was present, and was commending the excellent preservation of the speeches of both houses, in the Lilliput Debates. He declared, he knew how to appropriate every speech without a signature; for that every person spoke in character, and was as certainly and as easily known as a speaker in Homer or in Shakspeare. "Very likely, Sir," said Johnson, ashamed of having deceived him, " but I wrote them in the garret where I then lived." His predecessor in this oratorical fabrication was Guthrie; his successor in the Magazine was Hawkesworth. It is said, that to prove himself equal to this employment (but there is not leisure for the adjustment of chronology) in the judgment of Cave, he undertook the "Life of Savage," which he asserted (not incredible of him), and valued himself upon it, that he wrote in six and thirty hours. In one night he also composed, after finishing an evening in Holborn, his "Hermit of Teneriff." He sat up a whole night to compose the preface to the "Preceptor."

His eye-sight was not good; but he never wore spectacles, not on account of such a ridiculous vow as Swift made not to use

them, but because he was assured they would be of no service to him. He once declared, that he "never saw the human face divine." He saw better with one eye than the other, which, however, was not like that of Camoens, the Portuguese poet, as expressed on his medal. Latterly perhaps he meant to save his eyes, and did not read so much as he otherwise would. He preferred conversation to books; but when driven to the refuge of reading by being left alone, he then attached himself to that amusement. "Till this year," said he to an intimate, "I have done tolerably well without sleep, for I have been able to read like Hercules." But he picked and culled his companions for his midnight hours; "and chose his author as he chose his friend." The mind is as fastidious about its intellectual meal as the appetite is as to its culinary one; and it is observable, that the dish or the book that palls at one time is a banquet at another. By his innumerable quotations you would suppose, with a great personage, that he must have read more books than any man in England, and have been a mere book-worm: but he acknowledged that supposition was a mistake in his favour. He owned he had hardly ever read a book through. The posthumous volumes of Mr. Harris of Salisbury (which treated of subjects that were congenial with his own professional studies) had attractions that engaged him to the end. Churchill used to say, having heard perhaps of his confession, as a boast, that "if Johnson had only read a few books, he could not be the author of his own works." His opinion, however, was, that he who reads most, has the chance of knowing most; but he declared, that the perpetual task of reading was as bad as the slavery in the mine, or the labour at the oar. He did not always give his opinion unconditionally of the pieces he had even perused, and was competent to decide upon. He did not choose to have his sentiments generally known; for there was a great eagerness, especially in those who had not the pole-star of judgment to direct them, to be taught what to think or say on literary performances. "What does Johnson say of such a book?" was the question of every day. Besides, he did not want to increase the number of his enemies, which his decisions and criticisms had created him; for he was generally willing to retain his friends, to whom, and their works, he bestowed sometimes too much praise, and recommended beyond their worth, or perhaps his own esteem. But affection knows no bounds. Shall this pen find a place in the present page to

mention, that a shameless Aristophanes had an intention of taking him off upon the stage, as the "Rehearsal" does the great Dryden ? When it came to the notice of our exasperated man of learning, he conveyed such threats of vengeance and personal punishment to the mimic, that he was glad to proceed no farther. The reverence of the public for his character afterwards, which was increasing every year, would not have suffered him to be the object of theatrical ridicule. Like Fame in Virgil, vires acquirit eundo. In the year 1738 he wrote the "Life of Father Paul," and published proposals for a translation of his "History of the Council of Trent," by subscription: but it did not go on. Mr. Urban even yet hopes to recover some sheets of this translation, that were in a box under St. John's Gate; more certainly once placed there, than Rowley's Poems were in the chest in a tower of the church of Bristol.

Night was his time for composition. Indeed he literally turned night into day, noctes vigilabat ad ipsum mane; but not like Tigellius in Horace. Perhaps he never was a good sleeper, and (while all the rest of the world was in bed) he chose his lamp, in the words of Milton,

"in midnight hour,

Were seen in some high lonely tower."

He wrote and lived perhaps at one time only from day to day, and (according to vulgar expression) from sheet to sheet. Dr. Cheyne reprobates the practice of turning night into day, as pernicious to mind and body. Jortin has something to say on the vigils of a learned man, in his "Life of Erasmus,' ""As he would not sleep when he could, nothing but opium could procure him repose." There is cause to believe, he would not have written unless under the pressure of necessity. Magister artis ingenique largitor venter, says Persius. He wrote to live, and luckily for mankind lived a great many years to write. All his pieces are promised for a new edition of his works under the inspection of Sir John Hawkins, one of his executors, who has undertaken to be his biographer. Johnson's high tory principles in church and state were well known. But neither his "Prophecy of the Hanover Horse," lately maliciously reprinted, nor his political principles or conversations, got him into any personal difficulties, nor prevented the offer of a pension, nor his acceptance. Rara temporum felicitas, ubi sentire quæ velis, et,

qua sentias dicere licet. The present royal family are winning

the hearts of all the friends of the house of Stuart. There is here neither room nor leisure to ascertain the progress of his publications, though, in the idea of Shenstone, it would exhibit the history of his mind and thoughts.

He was employed by Osborne to make a catalogue of the Harleian Library. Perhaps, like those who stay too long on an errand, he did not make the expedition his employer expected, from whom he might deserve a gentle reprimand. The fact was, when he opened a book he liked, he could not restrain from reading it. The bookseller upbraided him in a gross manner, and, as tradition goes, gave him the lie direct, though our catalogue-maker offered at an excuse. Johnson turned the volume into a weapon, and knocked him down, and told him, "not to be in a hurry to rise, for when he did, he proposed kicking him down stairs." Perhaps the lie direct may be punished ad modum recipientis, as the law gives no satisfaction. His account of the collection, and the tracts that are printed in quarto volumes, were well received by the public. Of his folio labours in his English Dictionary a word must be said; but there is not room for much. The delineation of his plan, which was esteemed a beautiful composition, was inscribed to Lord Chesterfield, no doubt with permission, whilst he was secretary of state. It was at this time, he said, he aimed at elegance of writing, and set for his emulation the Preface of Chambers to his "Cyclopedia." Johnson undoubtedly expected beneficial patronage. It should seem that he was in the acquaintance of his Lordship, and that he had dined at his table, by an allusion to him in a letter to his son, printed by Mrs. Stanhope, and which he himself would have been afraid to publish. Whilst he was ineffectually hallooing the Graces in the ear of his son, he set before him the slovenly behaviour of our author at his table, whom he acknowledges as a great genius, but points him out as a rock to avoid, and considers him only as a respectable Hottentot." When the book came out, Johnson took his revenge, by saying of it," that the instructions to his son inculcated the manners of a dancing master, and the morals of a prostitute." Within this year or two he observed (for anger is a short-lived passion), that, bating some improprieties, it contained good directions, and was not a bad system of education. But Johnson probably did not think so highly of his own appearance as of his morals. For, on being asked if Mr.

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Spence had not paid him a visit? "Yes," says he," and he probably may think he visited a bear." Johnson," says the author of the "Life of Socrates," "is a literary savage." "Very likely," replied Johnson; "and Cooper (who was as thick as long) is a literary Punchinello."

It does not appear that Lord Chesterfield showed any substantial proofs of approbation to our Philologer, for that was the professional title he chose. A small present he would have disdained. Johnson was not of a temper to put up with the affront of disappointment. He revenged himself in a letter to his Lordship, written with great acrimony, and renouncing all acceptance of favour. It was handed about, and probably will be published, for litera scripta manet. He used to say, "he was mistaken in his choice of a patron, for he had simply been endeavouring to gild a rotten post."

Lord Chesterfield indeed commends and recommends Mr. Johnson's Dictionary in two or three numbers of the "World." Not words alone pleased him. "When I had undergone," says the compiler, a long and fatiguing voyage, and was just getting into port, this Lord sent out a small cock-boat to pilot me in." The agreement for this great work was for fifteen hundred pounds. This was a large bookseller's venture at that time: and it is in many shares. Robertson, Gibbon, and a few more, have raised the price of manuscript copies. In the course of fifteen years, two and twenty thousand pounds have been paid to four authors. Johnson's world of words demands frequent editions. His titles of Doctor of Laws from Dublin and from Oxford (both of which came to him unasked and unknown, and only not unmerited); his pension from the King, which is to be considered as a reward for his pioneering services in the English language, and by no means as a bribe; gave him consequence, and made the Dictionary and its author more extensively known. It is a royal satisfaction to have made the life of a learned man more comfortable to him.

"These are imperial works, and worthy Kings."

Lord Corke, who would have been kinder to him than Stanhope (if he could) as soon as it came out, presented the Dictionary to the Academy della Crusca at Florence in 1755. Even for the abridgment in octavo, which puts it into every body's hands, he was paid to his satisfaction, by the liberality of his booksellers.