About a year after the representation of Irene, he began to publish a series of short essays on morals, manners, and literature.This species of composition had been brought into fashion by the success of the Tatler, and by the still more brilliant success of the Spectator.A crowd of small writers had vainly attempted to rival Addison.The Lay Monastery, the Censor, the Freethinker, the Plain Dealer, the Champion, and other works of the same kind, had had their short day.None of them had obtained a permanent place in our literature; and they are now to be found only in the libraries of the curious.At length Johnson undertook the adventure in which so many aspirants had failed.In the thirty-sixth year after the appearance of the last number of the Spectator appeared the first number of the Rambler.From March 1750 to March 1752 this paper continued to come out every Tuesday and Saturday.
From the first the Rambler was enthusiastically admired by a few eminent men.Richardson, when only five numbers had appeared, pronounced it equal, if not superior, to the Spectator.Young and Hartley expressed their approbation not less warmly.Bubb Doddington, among whose many faults indifference to the claims of genius and learning cannot be reckoned, solicited the acquaintance of the writer.In consequence probably of the good offices of Doddington, who was then the confidential adviser of Prince Frederic, two of his Royal Highness's gentlemen carried a gracious message to the printing office, and ordered seven copies for Leicester House.But these overtures seem to have been very coldly received.Johnson had had enough of the patronage of the great to last him all his life, and was not disposed to haunt any other door as he had haunted the door of Chesterfield.
By the public the Rambler was at first very coldly received.
Though the price of a number was only twopence, the sale did not amount to five hundred.The profits were therefore very small.
But as soon as the flying leaves were collected and reprinted they became popular.The author lived to see thirteen thousand copies spread over England alone.Separate editions were published for the Scotch and Irish markets.A large party pronounced the style perfect, so absolutely perfect that in some essays it would be impossible for the writer himself to alter a single word for the better.Another party, not less numerous, vehemently accused him of having corrupted the purity of the English tongue.The best critics admitted that his diction was too monotonous, too obviously artificial, and now and then turgid even to absurdity.But they did justice to the acuteness of his observations on morals and manners, to the constant precision and frequent brilliancy of his language, to the weighty and magnificent eloquence of many serious passages, and to the solemn yet pleasing humour of some of the lighter papers.On the question of precedence between Addison and Johnson, a question which, seventy years ago, was much disputed, posterity has pronounced a decision from which there is no appeal.Sir Roger, his chaplain and his butler, Will Wimble and Will Honeycomb, the Vision of Mirza, the Journal of the Retired Citizen, the Everlasting Club, the Dunmow Flitch, the Loves of Hilpah and Shalum, the Visit to the Exchange, and the Visit to the Abbey, are known to everybody.But many men and women, even of highly cultivated minds, are unacquainted with Squire Bluster and Mrs Busy, Quisquilius and Venustulus, the Allegory of Wit and Learning, the Chronicle of the Revolutions of a Garret, and the sad fate of Aningait and Ajut.
The last Rambler was written in a sad and gloomy hour.Mrs Johnson had been given over by the physicians.Three days later she died.She left her husband almost broken-hearted.Many people had been surprised to see a man of his genius and learning stooping to every drudgery, and denying himself almost every comfort, for the purpose of supplying a silly, affected old woman with superfluities, which she accepted with but little gratitude.
But all his affection had been concentrated on her.He had neither brother nor sister, neither son nor daughter.To him she was beautiful as the Gunnings, and witty as Lady Mary.Her opinion of his writings was more important to him than the voice of the pit of Drury Lane Theatre or the judgment of the Monthly Review.The chief support which had sustained him through the most arduous labour of his life was the hope that she would enjoy the fame and the profit which he anticipated from his Dictionary.
She was gone; and in that vast labyrinth of streets, peopled by eight hundred thousand human beings, he was alone.Yet it was necessary for him to set himself, as he expressed it, doggedly to work.After three more laborious years, the Dictionary was at length complete.
