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From this point the real commencement of his literary career may be dated. It was begun at a bad time. If, indeed, he had become what he afterwards described as one of the lowest of all human beings, a scribbler for a party, he might possibly have obtained remunerative occupation; but Johnson was too high-spirited to turn his pen to such vile uses. The age of patronage, when a well-written dedication was often munificently rewarded, was passing away; the reading public was small; and journalism, which now gives employment to thousands of writers, was then, comparatively speaking, in its infancy. Moreover, we must remember (what appears to have been forgotten by many writers about Johnson) that even in our own day, when the avenues to a literary career are so much better and more numerous than in Johnson's time, a writer who came to London circumstanced as he was would have a very hard battle to fight. The fact that he had translated a book from the Latin, or that he had contributed articles to a provincial newspaper, was not likely to tell much in his favour with publishers; he had left the University without obtaining any distinction; and he was destitute of money, which might have enabled him to subsist while he wrote some work which might attract the attention of the public. was obliged to live "from hand to mouth," as the saying is, and work done under such circumstances is rarely of much value. Into the details of Johnson's literary hack-work we need not enter. He wrote extensively in the Gentleman's Magazine; he executed various translations; he assisted Osborne in compiling the catalogue of the Harleian Library; and, from November 1740 to February 1742, he wrote in the Gentleman's Magazine an account of the debates in parliament, under the title of "The Senate of Lilliput." Parliamentary reporting was then not allowed, but persons were employed to attend the two Houses and take such notes as they could. These notes Johnson put into shape, often writing entirely imaginary speeches, and always "taking care that the Whig dogs should not have the best of it." He gave up the occupation when he found that many received the speeches as

He

actual reports, declaring that he "would not be accessory to the propagation of falsehood."

In May 1738 appeared anonymously Johnson's first work of importance, "London," an imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal. It was a considerable success, a second edition being called for within a week, and Pope, the reigning king of poetry, declaring that whoever the author was, he would soon be deterré. "London" was followed ten years later by a similar but more powerful poem, the "Vanity of Human Wishes," an imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal, containing in dignified and impressive verse a declaration of Johnson's profound and lifelong conviction, that, upon the whole, the amount of misery in the world is greatly in excess of the amount of happiness. Johnson, as some of his shorter poems (for example, the noble and touching verses on Levett) show, possessed a real though a slender vein of poetical genius; but "London" and the "Vanity of Human Wishes" are mainly valuable, not on account of their intrinsically poetical qualities, but as expressing in verse which has the merits of dignity, honesty, and originality, the opinions on life which had been formed by a man of strong mind, who had read much and thought much. This remark applies especially to the "Vanity of Human Wishes."""Tis a grand poem," wrote Byron in his Diary, "and so true." Sir Walter Scott found in Johnson's poetry something peculiarly attractive to his manly good sense. He once told Ballantyne that he derived more pleasure from Johnson's poetry than from that of any writer he could mention.

Among the many questionable acquaintances whom Johnson fell in with during his sojourn in Bohemia, or, as it was then called, Grub Street, was Richard Savage, a dissipated profligate, of whom it was generally believed (falsely, it would appear) that he was the illegitimate son of the Countess of Macclesfield, who refused to acknowledge him. During his chequered career Savage had seen a good deal of literary society, and although his principal poem, "The Wanderer," which Scott pronounced "beautiful," is by most found quite unreadable, he was a man of considerable abilities: in particular,

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he possessed that talent which Johnson was always disposed to admire he was a ready and entertaining talker. For Savage, in spite of his many vices, which he both saw and disapproved of, Johnson formed what seems to have been the strongest friendship of his life. He delighted in his company, he admired his abilities, he sincerely pitied his misfortunes, and on his death, in 1743, he celebrated his memory in a memoir, which, though its rhetoric is somewhat ponderous, is one of the most forcible and interesting of Johnson's productions. Nowhere will there be found a better account of the misery and degradation to which many poor authors of that period were subjected. It was published in 1744, and attained considerable popularity.

We have already mentioned that when Johnson set out for London he carried with him the manuscript of his tragedy. "Irene" in his pocket. For several years he in vain attempted to get it put upon the stage. At length in 1749 it was produced by his friend Garrick, who had become manager of Drury Lane. With difficulty it was kept alive for nine nights, when it was withdrawn, and was never again produced. "Irene" deserved to fail. It may be described as a kind of worse "Cato," rhetorical and unnatural to a degree, and interesting only as one of the many examples of the unfitness of a man of genius to judge of the particular line into which his talents should be directed.

In 1747 Johnson commenced the preparation of a work for which in many ways he was admirably adapted-a dictionary of the English language. He calculated that it would occupy him three years, but he greatly over-estimated his powers, for though he employed several assistants to do the mechanical part of the work, it did not appear till 1755. Etymology had not then attained the dignity of a science, and the derivations given in the "Dictionary" are consequently very defective; but the definitions are generally excellent-clear, concise, and logical, and the examples are selected with much care and good taste. The publication of the "Dictionary" led to Johnson's famous quarrel with Lord Chesterfield. The plan for

writing it had been dedicated to that nobleman, who aspired to act the part of a literary Mæcenas, but he soon grew tired of Johnson, and treated him with marked neglect. When, however, the "Dictionary" was on the eve of publication, Chesterfield thought it would be a feather in his cap if he patronised a man capable of writing such a work, and accordingly inserted in a periodical called the World two papers recommending the "Dictionary" to the notice of the public. In that singularly masterly and dignified letter with which all are acquainted Johnson repelled his Lordship's patronage, "prociaiming," in the words of Mr. Carlyle, "into the ear of Lord Chesterfield, and through him of the listening world, that patronage should be no more."

While writing the "Dictionary," Johnson engaged in a work which elevated his literary position considerably. This was the Rambler, a periodical of somewhat the same nature as the Spectator, which was commenced in 1750 and carried on twice a week for two years. From 1758 to 1760 he wrote under the general title of the Idler a series of essays which appeared in a newspaper called the Universal Chronicle. Both the Rambler and the Idler are now found very heavy reading. and it would be idle to deny that a considerable proportion of them is little better than sonorous commonplace. Johnson had not the lightness of hand and dexterity of touch which enabled Addison to treat trivial topics gracefully and appropriately, and where he aspires to do so he generally fails lamentably. He appears to greater advantage in his tale "Rasselas," which appeared in 1759. It is a discourse on his old theme, the "Vanity of Human Wishes," eloquently and powerfully written, and bearing everywhere the marks of that gloom approaching to despair with which he habitually contemplated life.

"Rasselas" was the last work of importance written by Johnson purely for the sake of making money. In 1762 the great services to literature he had conferred by the "Dictionary" and his other works were recognised by Government granting him a pension of £300 per annum. He hesitated

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very much about taking it, as in his "Dictionary" he had defined "pension" as generally understood to mean "pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country;" but on being distinctly informed that it was granted without the slightest reference to political considerations, he consented to accept it. Henceforth he was able to gratify to the fullest extent his love of indolence and of society, excusing himself, in public, for writing little by saying he could do as much good by conversation as by composition, but in his private memoranda bitterly reproaching his self-indulgence. Always fond of clubs-to use his own expression, he was a very clubbable man-he in 1764 founded the Literary Club, where he talked long and excellently in the company of such men as Burke, Goldsmith, Gibbon, Beauclerk, Reynolds, Langton, and his admirable biographer, Boswell, who had, not without difficulty, obtained an introduction to him in 1763. It is a pleasing feature in Johnson's character that, in spite of his occasional sharp retorts and surliness of temper, he managed to maintain a firm friendship with a large circle of acquaint ances, including some of the most celebrated of his contem poraries. In 1765 he became acquainted with Mr. Thrale, a wealthy brewer, a connection which proved one of the happiest events of his life. Thrale was a sensible, though by no means a brilliant man; his wife possessed more brilliancy but less sense; and both together did their best to make Johnson happy at their country-house in Streatham, where for several years he was considered almost as a member of their family. At his own house in Bolt Court he kept a number of poor dependants-Mrs. Williams, Mrs. Desmoulins, Robert Levett, Miss Carmichael, Blank Frank-who, but for his generous aid, would have been in abject poverty. Johnson, partly from natural impulse, partly, no doubt, because he remembered how severe had been his own struggle with poverty, was one of the most generous men that ever lived. "He loved the poor," said Mrs. Thrale, "as I never saw man love them."

While obliged to labour for his bread, Johnson had pro