would be it is impossible to say; but we may venture to guess. I
guess, then, that it would have been some bookseller, who was the
assign of another bookseller, who was the grandson of a third
bookseller, who had bought the copyright from Black Frank, the
doctor's servant and residuary legatee, in 1785 or 1786. Now,
would the knowledge that this copyright would exist in 1841 have
been a source of gratification to Johnson? Would it have
stimulated his exertions? Would it have once drawn him out of
his bed before noon? Would it have once cheered him under a fit
of the spleen? Would it have induced him to give us one more
allegory, one more life of a poet, one more imitation of Juvenal?
I firmly believe not. I firmly believe that a hundred years ago,
when he was writing our debates for the Gentleman's Magazine, he
would very much rather have had twopence to buy a plate of shin
of beef at a cook's shop underground. Considered as a reward to
him, the difference between a twenty years' and sixty years' term
of posthumous copyright would have been nothing or next to
nothing. But is the difference nothing to us? I can buy
Rasselas for sixpence; I might have had to give five shillings
for it. I can buy the Dictionary, the entire genuine Dictionary,
for two guineas, perhaps for less; I might have had to give five
or six guineas for it. Do I grudge this to a man like Dr
Johnson? Not at all. Show me that the prospect of this boon
roused him to any vigorous effort, or sustained his spirits under
depressing circumstances, and I am quite willing to pay the price
of such an object, heavy as that price is. But what I do
complain of is that my circumstances are to be worse, and
Johnson's none the better; that I am to give five pounds for what
to him was not worth a farthing.