“The progress of a petition is well known.  An ejected placeman goes down to his county or his borough, tells his friends of his inability to serve them and his constituents, of the corruption of the government.  His friends readily understand that he who can get nothing, will have nothing to give.  They agree to proclaim a meeting.  Meat and drink are plentifully provided, a crowd is easily brought together, and those who think that they know the reason of the meeting undertake to tell those who know it not.  Ale and clamour unite their powers; the crowd, condensed and heated, begins to ferment with the leaven of sedition.  All see a thousand evils, though they cannot show them, and grow impatient for a remedy, though they know not what.

“A speech is then made by the Cicero of the day; he says much and suppresses more, and credit is equally given to what he tells and what he conceals.  The petition is heard and universally approved.  Those who are sober enough to write, add their names, and the rest would sign it if they could.

“Every man goes home and tells his neighbour of the glories of the day; how he was consulted, and what he advised; how he was invited into the great room, where his lordship caressed him by his name; how he was caressed by Sir Francis, Sir Joseph, and Sir George; how he ate turtle and venison, and drank unanimity to the three brothers.

“The poor loiterer, whose shop had confined him or whose wife had locked him up, hears the tale of luxury with envy, and at last inquires what was their petition.  Of the petition nothing is remembered by the narrator, but that it spoke much of fears and apprehensions and something very alarming, but that he is sure it is against the government.

“The other is convinced that it must be right, and wishes he had been there, for he loves wine and venison, and resolves as long as he lives to be against the government.

“The petition is then handed from town to town, and from house to house; and wherever it comes, the inhabitants flock together that they may see that which must be sent to the king.  Names are easily collected.  One man signs because he hates the papists; another because he has vowed destruction to the turnpikes; one because it will vex the parson; another because he owes his landlord nothing; one because he is rich; another because he is poor; one to show that he is not afraid; and another to show that he can write.”

The only writing in which we see a distinct reflection of Johnson’s talk is the Lives of the Poets.  The excellence of that book is of the same kind as the excellence of his conversation.  Johnson wrote it under pressure, and it has suffered from his characteristic indolence.  Modern authors would fill as many pages as Johnson has filled lines, with the biographies of some of his heroes.  By industriously sweeping together all the rubbish which is in any way connected with the great man, by elaborately discussing the