LETTERCXXXIV.TO J—— S——, ESQ.
Charles Street, June 9, 1780.
MY DEAR SIR,
GOVERNMENT is sunk in lethargic stupor—anarchy reigns—when I look back to the glorious time of a George II. and a Pitt’s administration—my heart sinks at the bitter contrast. We may now say of England, as was heretofore said of Great Babylon—“the beauty of the excellency of the Chaldees is no more;”—the Fleet Prison, the Marshalsea, King’s-Bench, both Compters, Clerkenwell, and Tothill-Fields, with Newgate, are flung open;—Newgate partly burned, and 300 felons, from thence only, let loose upon the world. Lord M——’s house in town suffered martyrdom; and his sweet box at Caen Wood escaped almost miraculously, for the mob had just arrived, and were beginning withit, when a strong detachment from the guards and light-horse came most critically to its rescue—the library, and, what is of more consequence, papers and deeds of vast value, were all cruelly consumed in the flames. Ld. N—’s house was attacked; but they had previous notice, and were ready for them. The Bank, the Treasury, and thirty of the chief noblemen’s houses, are doomed to suffer by the insurgents. There were six of the rioters killed at Ld. M——’s, and, what is remarkable, a daring chap, escaped from Newgate, condemned to die this day, was the most active in mischief at Ld. M——’s, and was the first person shot by the soldiers; so he found death a few hours sooner than if he had not been released.—The ministry have tried lenity, and have experienced its inutility; and martial law is this night to be declared.—If any body of people above ten in number are seen together, and refuse to disperse, they are to be fired at without any further ceremony—so we expect terrible work before morning.—The insurgents visited the Tower, but it would not do:—theyhad better luck in the Artillery-ground, where they found and took to their use 500 stand of arms; a great error in city politics, not to have secured them first.—It is wonderful to hear the execrable nonsense that is industriously circulated amongst the credulous mob, who are told his M——y regularly goes to mass at Ld. P—re’s chaple—and they believe it, and that he pays out of his privy purse Peter-pence to Rome. Such is the temper of the times—from too relaxed a government;—and a King and Queen on the throne who possess every virtue. May God, in his mercy, grant that the present scourge may operate to our repentance and amendment! that it may produce the fruits of better thinking, better doing, and in the end make us a wise, virtuous, and happy people!—I am, dear Sir, truly, Mrs. S——’s and your most grateful and obliged friend and servant,
I. SANCHO.
The remainder in our next.
Half past nine o’clock.
King’s-Bench prison is now in flames, and the prisoners at large; two fires in Holborn now burning.