The entries during the next six weeks continue of the same tenor.  Mr. Becket, for whose approval were sent “Poetical Epistles, with a preface by the learned Martinus Scriblerus” (he was still harping on the string of the Augustans), proved no more responsive than Dodsley, “’Twas a very pretty thing, but, sir, these little pieces the town do not regard.”  By May 16th he had “sold his wardrobe, pawned his watch, was in debt to his landlord, and finally at some loss how to eat a week longer.”  Two days later he had pawned his surgical instruments—­redeemed and repawned his watch on more favourable terms—­and was rejoiced to find himself still the possessor of ten shillings.  He remained stout of heart—­his faith in Providence still his strong comfort—­and the Vickery family, though he must have been constantly in their debt, were unfailingly kind and hospitable.  He was also appealing to the possible patrons of literature among the leading statesmen of the hour.  On May 21 we learn that he was preparing “a book” (which of his many ventures of the hour, is uncertain), and with it a letter for the Prime Minister, Lord North, whose relative, Dudley North, had started him on his journey to London.  When, after a fortnight’s suspense, this request for assistance had been refused, he writes yet more urgently to Lord Shelburne (at that time out of office) complaining bitterly of North’s hardness of heart, and appealing on this occasion to his hoped-for patron both in prose and verse—­

  “Ah!  Shelburne, blest with all that’s good or great,
   T’ adorn a rich or save a sinking state,
   If public Ills engross not all thy care,
   Let private Woe assail a patriot’s ear,
   Pity confined, but not less warm, impart,
   And unresisted win thy noble heart”—­

with much more in the same vein of innocent flattery.  But once again Crabbe was doomed to disappointment.  He had already, it would seem, appealed to Lord Chancellor Thurlow, with no better success.  Crabbe felt these successive repulses very keenly, but it is not necessary to tax North, Shelburne, and Thurlow with exceptional hardness of heart.  London was as full of needy literary adventurers as it had been in the days of The Dunciad, and men holding the position of these ministers and ex-ministers were probably receiving similar applications every week of their lives.

During three days in June, Crabbe’s attention is diverted from his own distresses by the Lord George Gordon Riots, of which his journal from June 8th contains some interesting particulars.  He was himself an eye-witness of some of the most disgraceful excesses of the mob, the burning of the governor of Newgate’s house, and the setting at liberty of the prisoners.  He also saw Lord George himself, “a lively-looking young man in appearance,” drawn in his coach by the mob towards the residence of Alderman Bull, “bowing as he passed along.”