After stating that she "dined at the
minister's o' Tuesday, and he called all the wise men about me with
great politeness indeed"--"Once more," she continues, "keep me out of
the newspapers if you possibly can: they have given me many a
miserable hour, and my enemies many a merry one: but I have not
deserved public persecution, and am very happy to live in a place
where one is free from unmerited insolence, such as London abounds
with.
"'Illic credulitas, illic temerarius error.'
God bless you, and may you conquer the many-headed monster which I
could never charm to silence." In "Thraliana," she says:
"_January_, 1785.--I see the English newspapers are full of gross
insolence to me: all burst out, as I guessed it would, upon the death
of Dr. Johnson. But Mr. Boswell (who I plainly see is the author)
should let the _dead_ escape from his malice at least. I feel more
shocked at the insults offered to Mr. Thrale's memory than at those
cast on Mr. Piozzi's person. My present husband, thank God! is well
and happy, and able to defend himself: but dear Mr. Thrale, that had
fostered these cursed wits so long! to be stung by their malice even
in the grave, is too cruel:--
"'Nor church, nor churchyards, from such fops are free.'"[1]--POPE.
[Footnote 1: Probably misquoted for--
"No place is sacred, not the church is free."
_Prologue to the Satires_.]
The license of our press is a frequent topic of complaint. But here
is a woman who had never placed herself before the public in any way
so as to give them a right to discuss her conduct or affairs, not
even as an author, made the butt of every description of offensive
personality for months, with the tacit encouragement of the first
moralist of the age.
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