show so much resentment to Foote; he has a patent for such liberties; nobody ever thought it worth his while to quarrel with him in London.”  “I am glad,” said Johnson, “to find that the man is rising in the world.”  The expression was afterwards repeated to Foote, who, in return, gave out, that he would produce the Caliban of literature on the stage.  Being informed of this design, Johnson sent word to Foote:  “that the theatre being intended for the reformation of vice, he would step from the boxes on the stage, and correct him before the audience.”  Foote knew the intrepidity of his antagonist, and abandoned the design.  No ill will ensued.  Johnson used to say:  “that for broad-faced mirth, Foote had not his equal.”

Dr. Johnson’s fame excited the curiosity of the king.  His majesty expressed a desire to see a man of whom extraordinary things were said.  Accordingly, the librarian at Buckingham house invited Johnson to see that elegant collection of books, at the same time giving a hint of what was intended.  His majesty entered the room, and, among other things, asked the author, “if he meant to give the world any more of his compositions.”  Johnson answered:  “that he thought he had written enough.”  “And I should think so too,” replied his majesty, “if you had not written so well.”

Though Johnson thought he had written enough, his genius, even in spite of bodily sluggishness, could not lie still.  In 1770 we find him entering the lists, as a political writer.  The flame of discord that blazed throughout the nation, on the expulsion of Mr. Wilkes, and the final determination of the house of commons, that Mr. Luttrell was duly elected by two hundred and six votes, against eleven hundred and forty-three, spread a general spirit of discontent.  To allay the tumult, Dr. Johnson published the False Alarm.  Mrs. Piozzi informs us, “that this pamphlet was written at her house, between eight o’clock on Wednesday night and twelve on Thursday night.”  This celerity has appeared wonderful to many, and some have doubted the truth.  It may, however, be placed within the bounds of probability.  Johnson has observed, that there are different methods of composition.  Virgil was used to pour out a great number of verses in the morning, and pass the day in retrenching the exuberances, and correcting inaccuracies; and it was Pope’s custom to write his first thoughts in his first words, and gradually to amplify, decorate, rectify, and refine them.  Others employ, at once, memory and invention, and, with little intermediate use of the pen, form and polish large masses by continued meditation, and write their productions only, when, in their opinion, they have completed them.  This last was Johnson’s method.  He never took his pen in hand till he had well weighed his subject, and grasped, in his mind, the sentiments, the train of argument, and the arrangement of the whole.  As he often thought aloud, he had, perhaps, talked it over to himself.  This may account for that rapidity with which, in general, he despatched his sheets to the press, without being at the trouble of a fair copy.  Whatever may be the logic or eloquence of the False Alarm, the house of commons have since erased the resolution from the journals.  But whether they have not left materials for a future controversy may be made a question.