to complain that the associate of Savage, the companion of his debauches, should have presumed to insult men of such pure minds as David Hume and Adam Smith-rudely refusing to bear them company but for an instant, merely because he regarded the sceptical opinions of the one with horror, and could not forgive the other for being his friend.

Savage died in prison at Bristol, miserably as he had lived, July, 1743, in his forty-sixth year. He had been arrested for a debt of eight pounds. Many who knew him were willing to subscribe for his relief; his wayward temper induced him to choose this moment for writing a satire on the place where his friends resided; and he expired, after six months' confinement, not without the suspicion that a letter from Pope, taxing him, as he said, unjustly, with great ingratitude, had brought on the fever of which he died. Johnson was not a man whose friendship for any person, however misplaced, or admiration of his talents, however exaggerated be yond the truth, would cease when he was laid low; and he immediately set about exhibiting both in that Life," which has been the object of so much admiration, and which certainly has all the merits, with most of the defects, that belong to his style, both of thinking and of writing. The plain language in which he accused Savage's mother, Lady Macclesfield, after her divorce married to Colonel Brett, of unnatural cruelty to her son, of scandalous licentiousness, nay, of attempts to cause the death of the child whose only fault towards her was his being the living evidence of an adultery which she herself avowed, in order to annul her first marriage, can hardly be supposed to have been suffered, at a time when all libels were so severely dealt with by the parties attacked and by the Courts; but the reason probably was, that one of the charges was notoriously admitted by the person accused, and the blacker imputation could not have been denied without reviving the memory of the scandal in which the whole had its origin.*

At the time of his associating with Savage, the circle of Johnson's acquaintance was very limited, and those whom he knew were in humble circumstances. One exception is afforded in Mr. Hervey, son of Lord Bristol, of whom he always spoke with admiration and esteem, although he admitted the profligacy of his friend's life. Mr. Hervey left the army and went into the church; nor can it be doubted that his pleasing manners, the talents, which like all his race he possessed, and his familiarity with the habits of high life, formed an attraction which Johnson could not at any time resist. "Call a dog, Hervey," he would say, "and I shall

One passage in the "Life" seems to dare and defy her. After charging her with "endeavouring to destroy her son by a lie, in a man. ner unaccountable, except that the most execrable crimes are sometimes committed without apparent temptation," he adds, "This mother is still alive, and may perhaps even yet, though her malice was so often de. feated, enjoy the pleasure of reflecting that the life which she so often endeavoured to take away was at least shortened by her unnatural offences." She must have been near seventy at this time, and the chief scandal of her life had been fifty years before.

love him." The friendship which, soon after his removal to London, he formed with Reynolds, can scarcely be reckoned a second exception; for at that time Sir Joshua's circumstances were so little above his own, that an anecdote is preserved of some ladies, at whose house the author and the artist happened to meet, feeling much disconcerted by the arrival of a Duchess while "they were in such company," Johnson, perceiving their embarrassment and offended with it, took his revenge by affecting to be a common mechanic, and asking Reynolds "how much he thought they could earn in a week if they wrought to their utmost."

The ordinary literary labour of his life in magazines, reviews, prefaces, and smaller essays, for the booksellers, in correcting the works of authors, and even superintending the press for publishers, appears to have been, during these five-and-twenty years, carried on almost like a trade, and without any scruples as to receiving the most humble remuneration. Thus, on one occasion, he received from Dodsley a guinea for writing a prospectus to a new weekly paper; and on another he praised the generosity of some Irish dignitary, who gave him ten guineas for correcting a bad poem, in which he blotted out many lines, and might, he said, have blotted many more. Beside the more regular employment of the “Gentle man's Magazine," he wrote a number of articles for the "Literary Magazine," in 1756; among others his review of Soame Jenyns on the "Origin of Evil," reckoned, and justly, one of his happiest performances, perhaps his best prose work, and which stands high in the first class of severe, but not unjust criticisms. But his humbler labours during this period were relieved by works of a much higher order, one of which, the "London," has been mentioned. In 1749 he produced his imitation of the Tenth Satire, under the title of the "Vanity of Human Wishes," and greatly extended his poetical reputation by that admirable piece. The price paid for the copyright, however, did not exceed fifteen guineas. Nor indeed could a work of such moderate size easily obtain a large remuneration,

In the spring of the same year his friend Garrick having become manager of Drury Lane Theatre, he brought out for him "Irene," a tragedy, which had been begun at Lichfield, and was finished afterwards partly in London, partly at Greenwich, where he resided for some time. Its success was only moderate; for an awkward incident happened on the first night, when the audience positively refused to let the heroine be strangled on the stage, crying out "murder," in a tone that made it necessary to omit the execution, or at least let it take place behind the scenes; and although the zealous friendship of the manager obtained for it nine nights of representation, the play then at once dropped, being found

* The persons described by his black servant as most about him some years later, and when he had extended his acquaintance, were Wil. liams, an apothecary, with whom he used to dine every Sunday, Mrs. Masters, a poetess, that lived in Cave's house, some booksellers and printers, and copyists, one or two authoresses, and Mrs. Gardner, the wife of a tallow.chandler.

wholly deficient in dramatic interest, perhaps, too, a little tiresome from the sameness of its somewhat heavy and certainly monotonous diction. Slender as was this success, it had been much smaller still but for many alterations on which Garrick insisted. These were vehemently resisted by the author, with a want of sense and of ordinary reflexion exceedingly unnatural to one of his excellent understanding, and who might easily have seen how very far superior the practical skill and sense of Garrick must be to his own on such subjects. It became even necessary to call in the mediation of a friend, and after all, several requisite changes were not made. However, the benefit of three nights' profits was thus, by the rules of the stage, secured to the author, and the copyright being sold to his friend Dodsley, produced him a hundred pounds more. A ludicrous folly of his occurred when this play was first brought out; he must needs appear in a handsome dress, with a scarlet and gold-laced waistcoat, and a gold-laced hat, not only behind the scenes but in the side boxes, from an absurd notion that some such finery was suited to a dramatic author. Certainly, if the feelings of the house in that day resembled those of our own times, this proceeding considerably increased the risk which he ran from his plot, his verse, and his bowstring. A pleasant story is related of his showing the first two acts of his tragedy to a friend of his settled at Lichfield, and holding an office in the Consistory there, Mr. Walmsley, a man of much learning, and who being greatly his superior in age as well as station, had patronised him in his early years. When he made the natural objection, that the heroine was already as much overwhelmed with distress as she well could be in the result, "Can't I," asked Johnson archly," put her in the spiritual court?"

The "Rambler" was another of the more permanently known works with which this ever active period of his life was diversified. It was published twice a-week during the years 1750 and 1751. The "Idler," a similar work, appeared in Newbury's "Universal Chronicle," a weekly paper, in 1758 and 1759. Both these works were conducted by Johnson with hardly any assistance from the contributions of friends; and the papers were written with extraor dinary facility, being generally finished each at one sitting, and sent to the press without even being read over by the author. It is indeed related of the Idler," that being at Oxford when a paper was required, he asked how long it was before the post went, and being told half an hour, he said, "Then we shall do very well;" and sit. ting down, wrote a number, which he would not let Mr. Langton read, saying, "Sir, you shall not do more than I have done myself." He then folded the paper up and sent it off.

The great work, however, upon which he was about this time constantly engaged was his "Dictionary," of which the first announcement was made in 1747, a year or more after he had been at work upon it; and the final publication in two volumes folio, with an elaborate Preface and Grammar, took place in 1755. The Prospectus had been inscribed to Lord Chesterfield, then (1747) Secretary of State, and had received, when showed him in manu

script, that able and accomplished person's high approval. It should seem that Johnson had called upon him afterwards and been refused admittance, a thing far from inexplicable when the person happened to be a cabinet minister in a laborious department. He had probably not courted his further acquaintance by invitations, but quarrel there was not any between the parties; and when the "Dictionary" was on the point of appearing, Lord Chesterfield wrote two witty and highly laudatory papers upon it in the "World," strongly but delicately recommending the expected work to all readers and all purchasers. Johnson's pride took fire, and he wrote that letter which is so well known, and has been so much admired for its indignant and sarcastic tone, but which, every thing considered, is to be reckoned among the outrages committed by the irritability of the literary temperament. Nor can any thing be more humbling, if it be not even ridiculous enough at once to bring the sublime of the epistle down to a very ordinary level, than the unhappy note which Mr. Boswell's candour and love of accuracy has subjoined,—that Johnson once confessed to Mr. Langton his having received ten pounds from the Earl, but "as that was so inconsiderable a sum, he thought the mention of it could not properly find a place in a letter of the kind this was,"-referring to the passage which speaks very incorrectly of his having received from Lord Chesterfield "not one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour." (i. 237.) It seems almost as incorrect to say, that he had never received one smile of favour: for it is certain that he had been admitted to his society and politely treated. He described him (iv., 353) as of "exquisitely elegant manners, with more knowledge than what he expected, and as having conversed with him upon philosophy and literature." The letter which he wrote appears to have been treated with indifference, if not with contempt, by the noble Secretary of State; for he showed it to any one that asked to see it, and let it lie on his table open that all might read who pleased. The followers of Johnson quote this as a proof of his dissimulation; possibly he overdid it; but they should recollect how little any one was likely to feel severely hurt by such a composition, when he could with truth mention, even if he should not choose to do so, that he had given the writer ten pounds without giving him the least offence.

The stipulated price for the "Dictionary" was 15751.; but he had to incur considerable expense in the preparation of it for the press, by having the extracts copied, as well as in the purchase of books which he was obliged to consult. He had for several years to employ three or four amanuenses or clerks, who occupied a room in his house fitted up like an office or a counting-house. In all he employed six, for whom his kindness ever after is known to have been unceasing, and his bounty quite equal to his means of rewarding them. It has also been observed as a proof of his national prejudices being capable of mitigation, that five of the six were Scotchmen. Of the money which he received for this work nearly the whole was anticipated, being received and spent for his support while the composition of the book was going on.

During the laborious period of his life which we have been surveying, he had sustained two losses which deeply affected him,-by his mother's death in 1759, of which I have spoken, and his wife's in 1752, an affliction which deeply impressed itself on his mind. He was not only entirely overwhelmed with grief at the moment of her decease, but continued ever after to mourn for her, and to pray for her soul, which he appears to have thought destined to a middle state of existence before its everlasting rest, although he always put his supplication doubtfully or conditionally. After this loss he received into his lodgings Miss Williams, a maiden lady, daughter of a Welsh physician, who had left her in poor circumstances; and she afterwards became blind. She was a person of excellent understanding and considerable information, but of a peevish temper, which he patiently bore, partly because her constant society was a resource against his melancholy tone of mind, and partly because he really had a compassionate disposition. He could only afford to give her lodging, she finding out of her scanty means her own subsistence, which he occasionally aided by gifts. She died a year before his own decease. Mrs. Desmoulines was the daughter of his godfather, Dr. Swinfen, and widow of a writing-master; her, too, Johnson received for many years in his house with her daughter, though his rooms were so small, that she and Miss Williams had to live in one apartment. The only satisfaction apparently which he could receive from the society of this lady, was the gratification of his charitable disposition; and he made her an allowance of near thirty pounds a-year from the time that he received his pension.* She survived him.

Robert Levett, a poor apothecary, lived with him in a similar way, almost from the time he came to London. He practised among the poor for very small sums; but it was one of Johnson's ignorant prejudices, partly founded on his contracted knowledge of scientific subjects, partly from his not unamiable bias in favour of his friends, that he never could be satisfied with the skill of any medical attendant if Levett did not also assist their care. He died two years before Johnson, who wrote some very affecting verses to the memory of this humble friend. It was among Johnson's fancies to suppose he knew something of medicine and chemistry, because he read occasionally in his accustomed desultory manner parts of old-fashioned books on these subjects; and he even used to make experiments without any method or acquaintance with the subject, upon mixing, and boiling, and melting different substances, and even upon distilling them. But his knowledge of all the parts of natural science was extremely limited and altogether empirical. Doubtless Levett's conversation was on these matters perfectly level to his companion's, and quite as much as he could bear.

Johnson was now in his fifty-fourth year, and had attained a

* The temper and dispositions of his poor inmates were far from con. ducing to their own comfort or to his peace. He describes them in one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale :-"Mrs. Williams hates every body; Levett hates Desmoulines, and does not love Williams; Desmoulines hates them both; Polly loves none of them."