"Our first recourse in this distressed so

inquiry I had discovered the sister of Mr. | is lacerated; the settled course of senti Francis Stewart, one of his amanuenses when ment and action is stopped; and life stands writing his Dictionary;-that I had, as de- suspended and motionless, till it is driven sired by him, paid her a guinea for an old by external causes into a new channel. pocket-book of her brother's, which he had re- But the time of suspense is dreadful. tained; and that the good woman, who was in very mode rate circumstances, but contented and placid, wondered at his scrupulous and liberal honesty, and received the guinea as if sent her by Providence.-That I had repeatedly begged of him to keep his promise to send me his letter to Lord Chesterfield, and that this memento, like Delenda est Carthago, must be in every letter that I should write to him, till I had obtained my object. In 1780, the world was kept in impatience for the completion of his "Lives of the Poets," upon which he was employed so far as his indolence allowed him to labour.

I wrote to him on January 1 and March 13, sending him my notes of Lord Marchmont's information concerning Pope;complaining that I had not heard from him for almost four months, though he was two letters in my debt;-that I had suffered again from melancholy;-hoping that he had been in so much better company (the Poets,) that he had not time to think of his distant friends; for, if that were the case, I should have some recompense for my uneasiness;that the state of my affairs did not admit of my coming to London this year; and begging he would return me Goldsmith's two poems, with his lines marked.

litude, is, perhaps for want of habitual pie-
ty, to a gloomy acquiescence in necessity.
Of two mortal beings, one must lose the
other; but surely there is a higher and
better comfort to be drawn from the consi-
deration of that Providence which watches
over all, and a belief, that the living and
the dead are equally in the hands of GOD,
who will reunite those whom he has sepa-
rated; or who sees that it is best not to re-
unite. I am, dear, Sir,

"Your most affectionate
"And most humble servant,
"SAM. JOHNSON.

"January 20, 1780."

"TO JAMES BOSWELL, ESQ. "DEAR SIR,

"WELL, I had resolved to send you the Chesterfield letter; but I will write once Never impose tasks again without it. upon mortals. To require two things is the way to have them both undone.

"For the difficulties which you mention in your affairs, I am sorry; but difficulty is now very general: it is not therefore less grievous, for there is less hope of help. I pretend not to give you advice, not knowing the state of your affairs: and general counsels about prudence and frugality would do you little good. You are, however, in the right not to increase your own perwrote to him in an admirable strain of sym- plexity by a journey hither; and I hope pathy and pious consolation.

His friend Dr. Lawrence having now suffered the greatest affliction to which a man is liable, and which Johnson himself had felt in the most severe manner, Johnson

"DEAR SIR,

TO DR. LAWRENCE.

that by staying at home you will please your father.

"Poor dear Beauclerk*-nec, ut soles, da bis joca. His wit and his folly, his acuteness and his maliciousness, his merriment Such another

"AT a time when all your friends oughtand reasoning, are now over. to shew their kindness, and with a character which ought to make all that know you your friends, you may wonder that you have yet heard nothing from me.

"I have been hindered by a vexatious and incessant cough, for which within these ten days I have been bled once, fasted four or five times, taken physic five times, and opiates, I think, six. This day it seems to remit.

"The loss, dear Sir, which you have lately

suffered, I felt many years ago, and know therefore how much has been taken from you, and how little help can be had from consolation. He that outlives a wife whom he has long loved, sees himself disjoined from the only mind that has the same hopes, and fears, and interest; from the only companion with whom he has shared much good or evil; and with whom he could set his mind at liberty, to retrace the past or anticipate the future. The continuity of being

will not often be found among mankind.
He directed himself to be buried by the side
of his mother, an instance of tenderness
which I hardly expected. He has left his
children to the care of Lady Di, and if she
dies, of Mr. Langton, and of Mr. Leicester,
his relation, and a man of good character.
His library has been offered to sale to the
Russian ambassador.+

of the newspapers, has had no literary loss.
"Dr. Percy, notwithstanding all the noise

Clothes and moveables were burnt to the
value of about £100; but his papers, and
I think his books, were all preserved.

"Poor Mr. Thrale has been in extreme

[The Hon. Topham Beauclerk died March 11, 1780. M.] t[Mr. Beauclerk's library was sold by public auction in April and May, 1781, for 5011. M.]

By a fire in Northumberland-house, where he had an apartment, in which I have passed many an agree able hour.

danger from an apoplectical disorder, and recovered beyond the expectation of his physicians; he is now at Bath, that his mind may be quiet, and Mrs. Thrale and Miss are with him.

66

and Whig enough to abhor you for Toryism.

"Mrs. Montagu flattered him finely; so he had good afternoon on't. This evening we spend at a concert. Poor Queeney's+ sore eyes have just released her; she had a long confinement, and could neither read nor write, so my master treated her very good naturedly with the visits of a young woman in this town, a tailor's daughter, who professes music, and teaches so as to give six lessons a day to ladies, at five and three-pence a lesson. Miss Burney says, she is a great performer ; and I respect the wench for getting her living so prettily; she is very modest and prettymannered, and not seventeen years old.

Having told you what has happened to your friends, let me say something to you of yourself. You are always complaining of melancholy, and I conclude from those complaints that you are fond of it. No man -talks of that which he is desirous to conceal, and every man desires to conceal that of which he is ashamed. Do not pretend to deny it; manifestum habemus furem; make | it an invariable and obligatory law to your. self, never to mention your own mental diseases; if you are never to speak of them you will think on them but little, and if you think little of them, they will molest you rarely. When you talk of them, it is plain that you want either praise or pity; for praise there is no room, and pity will do you no good; therefore, from this hour " This morning it was all connoisseurship ; speak no more, think no more, about them. we went to see some pictures by a gentle. "Your transaction with Mrs. Stewart man-artist, Mr. Taylor, of this place; my gave me great satisfaction; I am much master makes one every where, and has got obliged to you for your attention. Do not a good drawling companion to ride with lim lose sight of her; your countenance may be now. He looks well enough, of great credit, and of consequence of great but I have no notion of health for a man advantage to her. The memory of her bro-whose mouth cannot be sewed up. Burney ther is yet fresh in my mind; he was an ingenious and worthy man.

Please to make my compliments to your lady and to the young ladies. I should like to see them, pretty loves. I am, dear Sir, yours, affectionately,

"April 8, 1780."

"SAM. JOHNSON.

Mrs. Thrale being now at Bath with her husband, the correspondence between John-son and her was carried on briskly. I shall present my readers with one of her original letters to him at this time, which will amuse them probably more than those wellwritten but studied epistles which she has inserted in her collection, because it exhibits the easy vivacity of their literary intercourse. It is also of value as a key to Johnson's answer, which she has printed by it. | self, and of which I shall subjoin extracts..

MRS. THRALE TO DR. JOHNSON.

"I HAD a very kind letter from you yes

terday, dear Sir, with a most circumstan-
tial date. You took trouble with my cir-
culating letter, Mr. Evans writes me word, |
and I thank you sincerely for so doing: one
might do mischief else, not being on the spot.
Yesterday's evening was passed at Mrs.
Montagu's: there was Mr. Melmoth;
do not like him though, nor he me; it was
expected we should have pleased each other;
he is, however, just Tory enough to hate
the Bishop of Peterborough for Whiggism,

Dr. John Hinchliffe."

I

"You live in a fine whirl indeed; if I did not write regularly you would half forget me, and that would be very wrong, for felt my regard for you in my face last night, when the criticisms were going on.

and I and Queeney tease him every med
he eats, and Mrs. Montagu is quite serious
with him; but what can one do? He will
eat, I think; and if he does eat, I know he
will not live; it makes me very unhappy,
but I must bear it. Let me always have
your friendship. I am, most sincerely,

"Dear Sir, your faithful servant,
"H.LT.

"Bath, Friday, April 28."

"DR. JOHNSON TO MRS. THRALE. "DEAREST MADAM,

"MR. THRALE never will live abstinent.

ly, till he can persuade himself to live bṛ
rule.§
Encourage, as you can,

the musical girl.

"Nothing is more common than mutual dislike, where mutual approbation is particularly expected. There is often on both sides a vigilance not over-benevolent; and as attention is strongly excited, so that nothing drops unheeded, any difference in taste or opinion, and some difference where there is no restraint will commonly appear, immediately generates dislike.

Never let criticisms operate on your face or your mind; it is very rarely that an author is hurt by his critics. The blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, but it often dies in the socket; a very few names may

be considered as perpetual lamps that shine | unconsumed. From the author of Fitzosborne's letters' I cannot think myself in much danger. I met him only once about thirty years ago, and in some small dispute reduced him to whistle; having not seen him since, that is the last impression. Poor Moore, the fabulist, was one of the company.

"Mrs. Montagu's long stay, against her own inclination, is very convenient. You would, by your own confession, want a companion; and she is par pluribus; conversing with her, you may find variety in one." "London, May 1, 1780."

On the second of May I wrote to him, and requested that we might have another meeting somewhere in the North of England, in the autumn of this year.

·

ther, Mrs. Boscawen, and her elder sister, Mrs. Lewson, who was likewise there; Lady Lucan, Lady Clermont, and others of note both for their station and understandings. Among the gentlemen were, Lord Althorpe, whom I have before named, Lord Macartney, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Lord Lucan, Mr. Wraxal, whose book you have probably seen, The Tour to the Northern Parts of Europe;' a very agreeable ingenious man; Dr. Warren, Mr. Pepys, the Master in Chancery, whom I believe you know; and Dr. Barnard, the Provost of Eton. As soon as Dr. Johnson was come in, and had taken a chair, the company began to collect round him till they became not less than four, if not five deep; those behind standing and listening over the heads of those that were sitting near him. The conversation for some time was chiefly be

From Mr. Langton I received soon after this time a letter, of which I extract a pas-tween Dr. Johnson and the Provost of Éton, sage, relative both to Mr. Beauclerk and Dr. Johnson.

"The melancholy information you have received concerning Mr. Beauclerk's death is true. Had his talents been directed in any sufficient degree as they ought, I have always been strongly of opinion that they were calculated to make an illustrious figure; and that opinion, as it had been in part formed upon Dr. Johnson's judgment, receives more and more confirmation by hearing what, since his death, Dr. Johnson has said concerning them: a few evenings ago, he was at Mr. Vesey's, where Lord Althorpe, who was one of a numerous company there, addressed Dr. Johnson on the subject of Mr. Beauclerk's death, saying, Our CLUB has had a great loss since we met last.' He replied, A loss, that perhaps the whole nation could not repair! The Doctor then went on to speak of his endowments, and particularly extolled the wonderful ease with which he uttered what was highly excellent. He said, that no man ever was so free, when he was going to say a good thing, from a look that expressed that it was coming; or, when he had said it, from a look that expressed that it had come.' At Mr. Thrale's, some days before when we were talking on the same subject, he said, referring to the same idea of his wonderful facility, That Beauclerk's talents were those which he had felt himself more disposed to envy, than those of any whom he had known.'

6

"On the evening I have spoken of above, at Mr. Vesey's, you would have been much gratified, as it exhibited an instance of the high importance in which Dr. Johnson's character is held, I think even beyond any I ever before was witness to. The company consisted chiefly of ladies, among whom were the Duchess Dowager of Portland, the Duchess of Beaufort, whom I suppose, from her rank, I must name before her mo

while the others contributed occasionally
their remarks. Without attempting to de-
tail the particulars of the conversation,
which, perhaps, if I did, I should spin my
account out to a tedious length, I thought,
my dear Sir, this general account of the re-
spect with which our valued friend was at-
tended to, might be acceptable."

"TO THE REVEREND DR. FARMER.
"SIR,

May 25, 1780.

"I KNOW your disposition to second any literary attempt, and therefore venture upon the liberty of entreating you to procure from College or University registers, all the dates or other informations which they can supply relating to Ambrose Philips, Broome, and Gray, who were all of Cambridge, and of whose lives I am to give such accounts as I can gather. Be pleased to forgive this trouble from, Sir,

"Your most humble servant, "SAM. JOHNSON." While Johnson was thus engaged in preparing a delightful literary entertainment for the world, the tranquillity of the metropolis of Great Britain was unexpectedly disturbed, by the most horrid series of outrage that ever disgraced a civilized country. A relaxation of some of the severe penal provisions against our fellow-subjects of the Catholic communion had been granted by the legislature, with an opposition so inconsiderable, that the genuine mildness of Christianity, united with liberal policy, seemed to have become general in this island. But a dark and malignant spirit of persecution soon shewed itself, in an unworthy petition for the repeal of the wise and humane statute. That petition was brought forward by a mob, with the evident purpose of intimidation, and was justly rejected. But the attempt was accompanied and followed by such daring violence as is unexampled in history. Of this extraordi

nary tumult, Dr. Johnson has given the fol- | lowing concise, lively, and just account in his "Letters to Mrs. Thrale:""

"On Friday, the good Protestants met in Saint George's-Fields, at the summons of Lord George Gordon, and, marching to Westminster, insulted the Lords and Commons, who all bore it with great tameness. At night, the outrages began by the demolition of the mass-house by Lincoln's-Inn.

magistrates had not done their duty, but
that he would do his own:' and a proclama-
mation was published directing us to keep
our servants within doors, as the peace was
now to be preserved by force. The soldiers
were sent out to different parts, and the
town is now [June 9,] at quiet.

"The soldiers are stationed so as to be
every where within call: there is no longer
any body of rioters, and the individuals are
hunted to their holes, and led to prison.
Lord George was last night sent to the
Tower. Mr. John Wilkes was this day in
my neighbourhood, to seize the publisher of
a seditious paper.

“ An exact journal of a week's defiance of government I cannot give you. On Monday Mr. Strahan, who had been insulted, spoke to Lord Mansfield, who had I think been insulted too, of the licentiousness of the populace; and his Lordship treated it as "Several chapels have been destroyed, a very slight irregularity. On Tuesday and several inoffensive Papists have been night they pulled down Fielding's house,+ plundered, but the high sport was to burn and burnt his goods in the street. They the jails. This was a good rabble trick. had gutted on Monday Sir George Savile's The debtors and the criminals were all set at house, but the building was saved. On | liberty ; but of the criminals, as has always Tuesday evening, leaving Fielding's ruins, happened, many are already retaken; and two they went to Newgate to demand their com- pirates have surrendered themselves, and it panions, who had been seized demolishing is expected that they will be pardoned. the chapel. The keeper could not release them but by the Mayor's permission, which he went to ask; at his return, he found all the prisoners released, and Newgate in a blaze. They then went to Bloomsbury, and fastened upon Lord Mansfield's house, which they pulled down; and as for his goods, they totally burnt them. They have since gone to Caen-wood, but a guard was there before them. They plundered some Papists, I think, and burnt a mass-house in Moorfields the same night.

"On Wednesday I walked with Dr. Scot to look at Newgate, and found it in ruins, with the fire yet glowing. As I went by, the Protestants were plundering the Sessions-house at the Old-Bailey. There were not, I believe, a hundred; but they did their work at leisure, in full security, without sen. tinels, without trepidation, as men lawfully employed in full day. Such is the cowardice of a commercial place. On Wednesday they broke open the Fleet, and the King's. Bench, and the Marshalsea, and Wood-street Compter, and Clerkenwell Bridewell, and released all the prisoners.

"At night they set fire to the Fleet, and to the King's-Bench, and I know not how many other places; and one might see the glare of conflagration fill the sky from many parts. The sight was dreadful. Some people were threatened: Mr. Strahan advised me to take care of myself. Such a time of terror you have been happy in not seeing.

"The King said in council, That the

Vol. ii. p. 133, et seq. I have selected passages from several letters, without mentioning dates." t June 2.

[This is not quite correct. Sir John Fielding was, I think, then dead. It was Justice Hyde's house in St. Martin's-street, Leicester-Fields, that was gutted, and his goods burnt in the street. B.]

Government now acts again with its proper force; and we are all under the protection of the King and the law. I thought that it would be agreeable to you and my master to have my testimony to the public security; and that you would sleep more quietly when I told you that you are safe.

There has, indeed, been an universal panic, from which the King was the first that recovered. Without the concurrence of his ministers, or the assistance of the civil magistrates, he put the soldiers in motion, and saved the town from calamities. such as a rabble's government must naturally produce.

The public has escaped a very heavy calamity. The rioters attempted the Bank on Wednesday night, but in no great number; and, like other thieves, with no great resolution. Jack Wilkes headed the party that drove them away. It is agreed, that if they had seized the Bank on Tuesday, at the height of the panic, when no resistance had been prepared, they might have carried irrecoverably away whatever they had found. Jack, who was always zealous for order and decency, declares, that, if be be trusted with power, he will not leave & rioter alive. There is, however, now no longer any need of heroism or bloodshed; no blue riband§ is any longer worn.”

Such was the end of this miserable sedi tion, from which London was delivered tr the magnanimity of the Sovereign himse Whatever some may maintain, I am satis fied that there was no combination or plan either domestic or foreign; but that the mischief spread by a gradual contagion of frenzy, augmented by the quantities of fer

§ [Lord George Gordon and his followers, durk these outrages, wore blue ribands in their hats. M.