Though perhaps scarcely a professedly satirical production in the
proper sense of the word, there are few more pungent satires than
the following letter. In Boswell's _Life of Johnson_ we read, "When
the Dictionary was on the eve of publication. Lord Chesterfield,
who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that
Johnson would dedicate the work to him, attempted in a courtly
manner to soothe and insinuate himself with the sage, conscious, as
it would seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated
its learned author, and further attempted to conciliate him by
writing two papers in the _World_ in recommendation of the work....
This courtly device failed of its effect. Johnson despised the
honeyed words, and he states 'I wrote him a letter expressed in
civil terms, but such as might show him that I did not mind what he
said or wrote, and that I had done with him'."
February 7, 1755.
"MY LORD,
"I have been lately informed by the proprietor of _The World_ that two
papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were
written by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour which,
being very little accustomed to favours 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 public, 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 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,
encumbers 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 public 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.
"MY LORD,
"Your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant,
"SAM JOHNSON."