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One day, says Mrs. Piozzi,
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Johnson was called abruptly from our house at Southwark, after dinner, and, returning in about three hours, said he had been with an enraged author, whose landlady pressed him within doors while the bailiffs beset him without; that he was drinking himself drunk with Madeira to drown care, and fretting over a novel which, when finished, was to be his whole fortune; but he could not get it done for distraction, nor dared he stir out of doors to offer it for sale. Mr. Johnson, therefore, she continues,
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she concludes,
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A more scrupulous and patient writer, says the admirable biographer of the poet, Mr. John Forster,
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he had perceived in it--four years after its author's death he told Reynolds that he did not think it would have had much success--and rather with regard to Goldsmith's immediate want than to any confident sense of the value of the copy, asked and obtained the £60.
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And, sir, he said afterwards,
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CHESHIRE CHEESE
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The Traveller