author, he wished to share in his fame. It was his desire that a work of such importance should be dedicated to him, and therefore to attain this object of his ambition, he wrote two recommendatory papers for it in the World. But Johnson was not to be wheedled. The panegyrick and the author were the objects of his just contempt, and instead of a dedication, he wrote to his lordship this admirable letter:

"MY LORD,

"I HAVE been lately informed, by the proprietor of the World, that two papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the publick, were written by your lordship. To be so distinguished, is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favour from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge.

"When upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre; that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending ;-but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in publick, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I had done all that I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little.

"Seven years, my lord, have now past, since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour.

Such

Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before.

"The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks.

! "Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbering him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind: but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the publick should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for myself.

Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which I once boasted myself, with so much exultation,

"Your Lordship's most humble

" and most obedient servant,

"SAM. JOHNSON."

As another proof of his uncommon memory, Johnson repeated this letter many years after at several times to different friends, who compared their respective copies, and found them to agree to a word, though, when he sent the original, he did not take any copy.

Here the reader will excuse our inserting an anecdote connected with this famous letter, though

the circumstance happened some years after Chesterfield's death.

Dr. Johnson being invited to spend some days at Bowood, the seat of the late Marquis of Lansdowne, enjoyed himself there highly to his satisfaction, and the entertainment of the noble marquis and the company who were on a visit there at the same time.

He told several stories of literary characters of his acquaintance, and particularly repeated his letter to Lord Chesterfield. Whilst the feast of reason and the flow of soul' was thus enjoying, a gentleman from London happened to arrive; but being too late for dinner, his lordship was making his apologies, and added, "but you have lost a better thing than dinner, in not being here time enough to hear Dr. Johnson repeat his charming letter to Lord Chesterfield, though I dare say the doctor will be kind enough to give it to us again.""Indeed, my lord," says John"but I will not. I told the story at first for my own amusement, but I will not be dragged in as a story-teller to a company."

son,

In the course of the night, which the doctor enjoyed to a very late hour, he differed very much upon some subject with one of the gentlemen at table, and used some strong expressions, which the latter took no notice of, from the particularity of the doctor's manner.

In the morning, however, when Johnson cooled upon it, he went up to the gentleman with

great

great good-nature, and said, " Sir, I have found out, upon reflection, that I was both warm and wrong in my argument with you last night; for the first of which I beg your pardon, and for the second I thank you for setting me right."

In January, 1759, Johnson's mother died at the advanced age of ninety, and the impression it made on his mind appears in his "Rasselas," which, elegant, but rather sombre little tale, he wrote in the evenings of one week, and sent to the press in portions as it was written, that he might be thereby enabled to defray the expenses of her funeral, and discharge some little debts she had incurred.

Soon after the accession of his present majesty, Johnson's merits were rewarded with a pension of three hundred pounds a year, for which some virulent writers have abused him as inconsistent and unprincipled. But Johnson did not purchase his pension by venal services, nor engage to exercise his pen in the defence of any administration. They who have censured Johnson for accepting a royal favour granted without solicitation, might with equal justice condemn the hand by which it was so graciously bestowed.

In 1778, Johnson published the first four volumes of his Prefaces, biographical and critical, to the most eminent of the English poets, which were followed in less than two years by the remaining volumes.

This is the work which gives the greatest splen

dour

dour to his literary character,, as exhibiting a body of bold, penetrating, and elegant criticism, such as cannot be rivalled by any production of ancient or modern time. Yet it has been cavilled at by several writers, who have felt resentment against this great critick for not thinking exactly as they would have had him, on the merits of their favourite poets. But Johnson was a man who thought for himself; and he had the intrepidity to express his opinion, without regard to popular judgment, or a deference to great authorities.

With this observation we shall close our notice of Johnson's literary character, which stands upon a rock not to be shaken by the malevolence of his enemies. There were peculiarities in the man, as well as in the writer; but the peculiarities of Johnson were rendered more conspicuous by the splendour of his talents, and the virtues of his heart. His mind was strongly imbued with religious sentiment, and he had so deep a sense of the infinite purity and justice of his Creator, and such a conviction of his own failings, that his devotion was considered, by those who have little or no devotional feeling themselves, as the gloom of a superstitious, or the dream of an enthusiastic imagination. It is true, from bodily infirmity, and from a too susceptible mind, he was sometimes the slave of his fears. But his ap-. prehensions of death, and the dread of appearing before his Saviour, arose from a principle which places

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