The
patron, then, either himself helped his pet writer, or got for
him some government employment. After a time this fashion
ceased, and instead of taking his book to a patron, a writer took
it to a bookseller, and sold it to him for as much money as he
could. And so began the modern way of publishing books.
But when Johnson came to London to try his fortune as a writer,
it was just the time between. The patron had not quite vanished,
the bookseller had not yet taken his place. Never had writing
been more badly paid, never had it been more difficult to make a
living by it. "The trade of author was at about one of its
lowest ebbs when Johnson embarked on it."*
*Carlyle.
Johnson had brought with him to London a tragedy more than half
written, but when he took it to the booksellers they showed no
eagerness to publish it, or indeed anything else that he might
write. Looking at him they saw no genius, but only a huge and
uncouth country youth. One bookseller, seeing his great body,
advised him rather to try his luck as a porter than as a writer.
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