a long period of indolence managed to complete his last conspicuous work—­the Lives of the Poets, which was published in 1779 and 1781.  One other book of some interest appeared in 1775.  It was an account of the journey made with Boswell to the Hebrides in 1773.  This journey was in fact the chief interruption to the even tenour of his life.  He made a tour to Wales with the Thrales in 1774; and spent a month with them in Paris in 1775.  For the rest of the period he lived chiefly in London or at Streatham, making occasional trips to Lichfield and Oxford, or paying visits to Taylor, Langton, and one or two other friends.  It was, however, in the London which he loved so ardently ("a man,” he said once, “who is tired of London is tired of life"), that he was chiefly conspicuous.  There he talked and drank tea illimitably at his friends’ houses, or argued and laid down the law to his disciples collected in a tavern instead of Academic groves.  Especially he was in all his glory at the Club, which began its meetings in February, 1764, and was afterwards known as the Literary Club.  This Club was founded by Sir Joshua Reynolds, “our Romulus,” as Johnson called him.  The original members were Reynolds, Johnson, Burke, Nugent, Beauclerk, Langton, Goldsmith, Chamier, and Hawkins.  They met weekly at the Turk’s Head, in Gerard Street, Soho, at seven o’clock, and the talk generally continued till a late hour.  The Club was afterwards increased in numbers, and the weekly supper changed to a fortnightly dinner.  It continued to thrive, and election to it came to be as great an honour in certain circles as election to a membership of Parliament.  Among the members elected in Johnson’s lifetime were Percy of the Reliques, Garrick, Sir W. Jones, Boswell, Fox, Steevens, Gibbon, Adam Smith, the Wartons, Sheridan, Dunning, Sir Joseph Banks, Windham, Lord Stowell, Malone, and Dr. Burney.  What was best in the conversation at the time was doubtless to be found at its meetings.

Johnson’s habitual mode of life is described by Dr. Maxwell, one of Boswell’s friends, who made his acquaintance in 1754.  Maxwell generally called upon him about twelve, and found him in bed or declaiming over his tea.  A levee, chiefly of literary men, surrounded him; and he seemed to be regarded as a kind of oracle to whom every one might resort for advice or instruction.  After talking all the morning, he dined at a tavern, staying late and then going to some friend’s house for tea, over which he again loitered for a long time.  Maxwell is puzzled to know when he could have read or written.  The answer seems to be pretty obvious; namely, that after the publication of the Dictionary he wrote very little, and that, when he did write, it was generally in a brief spasm of feverish energy.  One may understand that Johnson should have frequently reproached himself for his indolence; though he seems to have occasionally comforted himself by thinking that he could do good by talking as well as by writing.  He said that a man should have a part of his life to himself; and compared himself to a physician retired to a small town from practice in a great city.  Boswell, in spite of this, said that he still wondered that Johnson had not more pleasure in writing than in not writing.  “Sir,” replied the oracle, “you may wonder.”