but still as from the king, for any thing that he shall know. But I hope some much better way will be found, and that there will be neither occasion nor opportunity for this*.

LETTER XIV.

LADY RUSSELL TO LADY SUNDERLAND.

I THINK I understand almost less than any body, yet I knew better things than to be weary of receiving what is so good as my lady Sunderland's letters; or not to have a due regard of what is so valuable as her esteem and kindness, with her promises to enjoy it my whole life. Truly, madam, I can find no fault but one, and that is constantly in all the favours you direct to me, an unfortunate useless creature in the world, yet your ladyship owns me as one had been of some service to you. Alas! I know I was not, but my intention was pure; I pitied your sorrow, I was hearty in wishing you ease, and if I had an occasion for it I could be diligent, but no further ability; and you are very good to receive it kindly. But, so unhappy a solicitor as I was once for my poor self and family, my heart misgives me when I aim at any thing of that kind any more. Yet I hope I have at last learned to make the will of God, when declared, the rule of my content, and to thank him

*The king granted Johnson 300%. a-year for his own and his son's life, with 1000/. in money, and a place of 1007. a year for his son.

for all the hard things I suffer, às the best assurances of a large share in that other blessed state; and if what is dear to us is got thither before us, the sense what they enjoy, and we in a little while shall with them, ought to support us and our friends.

LETTER XV.

DEAN TILLOTSON TO LADY RUSSELL.

Edmonton, Oct. 9, 1690.

HON. MADAM, SINCE I had the honour of your letter, I was tempted to have troubled you with one of mine upon the sad occasion of your late great loss of two so near relations, and so near together*. But I considered, why should I pretend to be able either to instruct or comfort my lady Russell, who hath borne things much more grievous with so exemplary a meekness and submission to the will of God, and knows, as well as I can tell her, that there is no remedy in these cases but patience, nor any comfort but in the hopes of the happy meeting of our deceased friends in a better life, in which sorrow and tears shall have no more place to all eternity!

And now I crave leave to impart something of my own trouble to your ladyship. On Sunday last the king commanded me to wait upon him the next morning at Kensington. I did so, and met

The death of her sister, the countess of Montague, and of her nephew, Wriothesly Baptist, earl of Gainsborough.

with what I feared. His majesty renewed his former gracious offer, in so pressing a manner, and with so much kindness, that I hardly knew how to resist it. I made the best acknowledgments I could of his undeserved grace and favour to me, and begged of him to consider all the consequences of this matter, being well assured, that all that storm which was raised in convocation the last year by those who will be the church of England was upon my account, and that the bishop of L was at the bottom of it, out of a jealousy that I might be a hindrance to him in attaining what he desires, and what I call God to witness, I would not have. And I told his majesty, that I was still afraid that his kindness to me would be greatly to his prejudice, especially if he carried it so far as he was then pleased to speak. For I plainly saw they could not bear it; and that the effects of envy and ill-will towards me would terminate upon him. To which he replied, that if the thing were once done, and they saw no remedy, they would give over, and think of making the best of it; and therefore he must desire me to think seriously of it; with other expressions not fit for me to repeat. To all which I answered, that in obedience to his majesty's commands I would consider of it again, though I was afraid I had already thought more of it than had done me good, and must break through one of the greatest resolutions of my life, and sacrifice at once all the ease and contentment of it; which yet I would force myself to do, were I really convinced that I was in any measure capable of doing his majesty and the public that service which he was pleased

to think I was. He smiled and said, "You talk of trouble; I believe you will have much more ease in it than in the condition in which you now are.” Thinking not fit to say more, I humbly took leave.

And now, madam, what shall I do? My thoughts were never at such a plunge. I know not how to bring my mind to it; and, on the other hand, though the comparison is very unequal, when I remember how I saw the king affected in the case of my lord of Shrewsbury *, I find myself in great strait, and would not for all the world give him the like trouble. I pray God to direct me to that which he sees and knows to be best, for I know not what to do. I hope I shall have your prayers, and would be glad of your advice, if the king would spare me so long. I pray God to preserve you and yours. I am, honoured madam, &c.

LETTER XVI.

LADY RUSSELL TO THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S.

[About the middle of October 1690.]

YOUR letters will never trouble me, Mr. Dean; on the contrary, they are comfortable refreshments to my, for the most part, over-burdened mind, which, both by nature and by accident, is made so weak, that I cannot bear, with that constancy I should, the losses I have lately felt; I can

*When the earl resigned the post of secretary of state about 1690; to divert him from which dean Tillotson had been sent to his lordship by the king.

say, Friends and acquaintances, thou hast hid out of my sight, but I hope it shall not disturb my peace. These were young, and as they had began their race of life after me, so I desired they might have ended it also. But happy are those whom God retires in his grace; I trust these were so; and then no age can be amiss; to the young it is not too early, nor to the aged too late. Submission and prayer is all we know that we can do towards our own relief in our distress, or disarm God's anger, either in our public or private concerns. The scene will soon alter to that peaceful and eternal home in prospect. But in this time of our pilgrimage vicissitudes of all sorts is every one's lot. And this leads me to your case, sir.

The time seems to be come that you must put anew in practice that submission*, you have so powerfully both tried yourself, and instructed others to. I see no place to escape at; you must take up the cross and bear it: I faithfully believe it has the figure of a very heavy one to you, though not from the cares of it; since, if the king guesses right, you toil more now. But this work is of your own choosing, and the dignity of the other is what you have bent your mind against, and the strong resolve of your life has been to avoid it. Had this even proceeded to a vow, it is, I think, like the virgin's of old, to be dissolved by the father of your country. Again, though contemplation, and a few friends well chosen, would be your grateful choice,

Submission alludes to Tillotson's letter to lord Russell against resistance. A shrewd hint of the dean's endeavours to persuade lord Russell to submit to the doctrine of passive obedience,