Dr Johnson's House

A visit to 17 Gough Square, London, where Dr Samuel Johnson, one of the greatest literary figures of the eighteenth century, compiled ‘A Dictionary of the English Language’. Although around 500 English dictionaries were already available, a bookseller named Robert Dodsley’s vision was a reference book that would rival the superior volumes being produced by French and Italian language academies.

In 1746, Johnson agreed to take on the project and finish the dictionary in three years. But writers’ approaches to deadlines being what they are (trust me on this), the first volume wasn’t submitted to the printers until 1753. Delivery of the second was a much swifter — it was ready for the presses in late 1754 — and two large volumes containing 42,000 main entries, extensive definitions, and 144,000 quotations were finally published in April 1755.

The dictionary was produced in the light and spacious fifth-floor garret, far above the bustle and noise of the streets below, and Johnson — who hated being alone — had plenty of assistants.

Dr Samuel Johnson, hard at it.

Some of the definitions are surprisingly opiniated and salty:

Lexicographer: A writer of dictionaries; a harmless drudge that busies himself in tracing the original and detailing the significance of words.

Patron: A wretch who supports with insolence, and is paid with flattery.

The house boasts plenty of original features such as wood panelling, cupboards, and furniture. The dictionary desk, though, is another matter. Is it the real thing? Well, I'd like to think so.

The heritage museum at the five-storey townhouse operates in a charming and appropriately old-fashioned manner. (The latter description was applied by one of the warm and welcoming staff, by the way.) It’s well worth the nine quid entrance fee, though some might balk at stumping up (an optional) £9.99 for a skimpy guidebook. However, it’s an engaging and informative read — packed with illustrations too. A nice souvenir for the money, I’d say, and all in support of a good cause.

Tip 1

Don’t take the Elizabeth Line to Faringdon and attempt to negotiate London’s constantly busy A roads and streets that are teeming with tourists without a care in the world and workers seemingly bearing the surplus. Don’t think following your nose will get you through the labyrinthine alleys, squares, places, lanes and courts (there are LOTS of courts) that lie between Holborn and Fleet Street. The mobile phone isn’t always the best of guides: you miss so much when you’re staring at a screen and bumping into lampposts and innocent bystanders; the phone's guidance isn’t always of practical use; and, I confess, I am nervous of my fancy Samsung folding phone being snatched out of my hand by a no-good, ne’er-do-well on an electric scooter. (I spent years living and working as a streetwise Londoner, but nowadays visit rarely. Hence my twitchiness.)

Tip 2

Instead, walk down the north side of Fleet Street going away from The Strand and towards St Paul’s. Just after the big junction with Fetter Lane, turn left down Johnson’s Court. This is where following your nose really does work as, after a few twists and turns, it spits you out in Gough Square right next to the good Doctor’s place.

Tip 3

When your dictionary studies are done, return by the same route, turn left when you reach Fleet Street and refresh yourself a few doors down with delicious food and drink at ‘Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese’ which might be, the landlord told me, “The most famous pub in the world.” He knows his stuff, too, about Johnson, Dickens, and a host of others — including poets, but we won’t hold that against him.

More soon on these pages about the ‘Cheese’ — one of London’s few remaining 17th Century chophouses — because I believe a return visit is in order. Purely for research purposes, you understand.