ascended the throne; and had, in the course of a few months,
disgusted many of the old friends and conciliated many of the old
enemies of his house. The city was becoming mutinous. Oxford
was becoming loyal. Cavendishes and Bentincks were murmuring.
Somersets and Wyndhams were hastening to kiss hands. The head of
the treasury was now Lord Bute, who was a Tory, and could have no
objection to Johnson's Toryism. Bute wished to be thought a
patron of men of letters; and Johnson was one of the most eminent
and one of the most needy men of letters in Europe. A pension of
three hundred a year was graciously offered, and with very little
hesitation accepted.

This event produced a change in Johnson's whole way of life. For
the first time since his boyhood he no longer felt the daily goad
urging him to the daily toil. He was at liberty, after thirty
years of anxiety and drudgery, to indulge his constitutional
indolence, to lie in bed till two in the afternoon, and to sit up
talking till four in the morning, without fearing either the
printer's devil or the sheriff's officer.

One laborious task indeed he had bound himself to perform. He
had received large subscriptions for his promised edition of
Shakspeare; he had lived on those subscriptions during some
years: and he could not without disgrace omit to perform his
part of the contract. His friends repeatedly exhorted him to
make an effort; and he repeatedly resolved to do so. But,
notwithstanding their exhortations and his resolutions, month
followed month, year followed year, and nothing was done. He
prayed fervently against his idleness; he determined, as often as
he received the sacrament, that he would no longer doze away and