Nothing could be more fortunate for Johnson than this connection.  He had at Mr. Thrale’s all the comforts and even luxuries of life; his melancholy was diverted, and his irregular habits lessened by association with an agreeable and well-ordered family.  He was treated with the utmost respect, and even affection.  The vivacity of Mrs. Thrale’s literary talk roused him to cheerfulness and exertion, even when they were alone.  But this was not often the case; for he found here a constant succession of what gave him the highest enjoyment:  the society of the learned, the witty, and the eminent in every way, who were assembled in numerous companies, called forth his wonderful powers, and gratified him with admiration, to which no man could be insensible.

In the October of this year he at length gave to the world his edition of Shakspeare, which, if it had no other merit but that of producing his Preface, in which the excellencies and defects of that immortal bard are displayed with a masterly hand, the nation would have had no reason to complain.

In 1764 and 1765 it should seem that Dr. Johnson was so busily employed with his edition of Shakspeare, as to have had little leisure for any other literary exertion, or, indeed, even for private correspondence.  He did not favour me with a single letter for more than two years, for which it will appear that he afterwards apologised.

He was, however, at all times ready to give assistance to his friends, and others, in revising their works, and in writing for them, or greatly improving their Dedications.  In that courtly species of composition no man excelled Dr. Johnson.  Though the loftiness of his mind prevented him from ever dedicating in his own person, he wrote a very great number of Dedications for others.  Some of these, the persons who were favoured with them are unwilling should be mentioned, from a too anxious apprehension, as I think, that they might be suspected of having received larger assistance; and some, after all the diligence I have bestowed, have escaped my enquiries.  He told me, a great many years ago, ‘he believed he had dedicated to all the Royal Family round;’ and it was indifferent to him what was the subject of the work dedicated, provided it were innocent.  He once dedicated some Musick for the German Flute to Edward, Duke of York.  In writing Dedications for others, he considered himself as by no means speaking his own sentiments.

I returned to London in February,* and found Dr. Johnson in a good house in Johnson’s Court, Fleet-street, in which he had accommodated Miss Williams with an apartment on the ground floor, while Mr. Levet occupied his post in the garret:  his faithful Francis was still attending upon him.  He received me with much kindness.  The fragments of our first conversation, which I have preserved, are these: