prospectus had been addressed. He well knew the value of such a
compliment; and therefore, when the day of publication drew near,
he exerted himself to soothe, by a show of zealous and at the
same time of delicate and judicious kindness, the pride which he
had so cruelly wounded. Since the Ramblers had ceased to appear,
the town had been entertained by a journal called the World, to
which many men of high rank and fashion contributed. In two
successive numbers of the World the Dictionary was, to use the
modern phrase, puffed with wonderful skill. The writings of
Johnson were warmly praised. It was proposed that he should be
invested with the authority of a Dictator, nay, of a Pope, over
our language, and that his decisions about the meaning and the
spelling of words should be received as final. His two folios,
it was said, would of course be bought by everybody who could
afford to buy them. It was soon known that these papers were
written by Chesterfield. But the just resentment of Johnson was
not to be so appeased. In a letter written with singular energy
and dignity of thought and language, he repelled the tardy
advances of his patron. The Dictionary came forth without a
dedication. In the preface the author truly declared that he
owed nothing to the great, and described the difficulties with
which he had been left to struggle so forcibly and pathetically
that the ablest and most malevolent of all the enemies of his
fame, Horne Tooke, never could read that passage without tears.

The public, on this occasion, did Johnson full justice, and
something more than justice. The best lexicographer may well be
content if his productions are received by the world with cold
esteem. But Johnson's Dictionary was hailed with an enthusiasm
such as no similar work has ever excited. It was indeed the