Mrs. Yates, in her last illness, and indeed for a considerable period
which preceded it, had the consolation and the society of her beloved
friend, Mrs. Brook. Her testimony, declared in the strongest and most
unequivocal manner, is also to be added to that of the narrative, in
contradiction of the aspersion on the fame of Mrs. Yates, to which there
has before been allusion.
Mrs. Brook was a very distinguished woman; she had excellent and
highly cultivated talents, and made the best use of them. She was
very highly esteemed by Dr. Johnson, who frequently visited her, and
she also reckoned among her friends, some of the most distinguished
literary characters of her time. The friendship between her and Mrs.
Yates, commenced at an early period, and was only terminated by death.
Her husband was Chaplain to the English garrison at Quebec, and she
accompanied him thither. Previously to her departure for Canada, she gave
an entertainment to her particular friends, among whom was Dr. Johnson.
On the breaking up of the company, the Doctor, with the rest, took leave
of their hostess with the customary good wishes. After a little interval,
the servant came to the drawing-room, to inform Mrs. Brook, that Dr.
Johnson wished to speak with her in the parlour below. She accordingly
went down to him. “Madam,” said the Doctor, on her entering the room,
with his usual solemnity of manner, “I thought I might never see you
again, so I wished to salute you before we parted, which I did not choose
to do before company.” The Doctor accordingly saluted her, and took his
leave. This anecdote was communicated to the writer by Mrs. Brook herself.
On her return from Canada, she wrote and published Emily Montague, which
was universally admired, as well for the story as for the very beautiful
descriptions of the scenery she had just visited. It is not, however,
intended in this place, nor indeed would it be expedient, to enter into
any critical discussion concerning this excellent woman’s various works.
They were all well received, except, perhaps, one or two of her pieces
for the stage. She had been on good terms with Garrick, but she conceived
that he had treated her ill, by the rejection of a tragedy; and though
one of the mildest and gentlest of human beings, she took her revenge in
a novel called “The Excursion.” She retired from the world on the death,
of her friend, Mrs. Yates, and finished her career at the house of her
son, who was a clergyman in Lincolnshire.
Her husband, Dr. Brook, was a very extraordinary personage, and in no
one instance bore the smallest resemblance to his partner. He was one
of the finest figures for an artist that can be imagined, having a
most impressive countenance, and hair as white as snow. He was one of
the greatest _bon vivants_ of his time, had considerable conversation
talents, and a very numerous circle of friends. But the deity of the
table was almost the only one he worshipped with consistent devotion, and
in pursuance of this object, he was a member of a club which was called
Number Six. It consisted of six members; they met at six in the evening,
and never parted till six in the morning.
Notwithstanding his habitual indulgence in the festivities of the table,
the old Gentleman lived to a very advanced age, and died within five days
of his wife.
The son was an amiable man, of no very remarkable talents, except for
music; he was an admirable performer on the German flute. He was
educated at St Paul’s school, from whence he went to Cambridge, and
afterwards to reside on a small piece of preferment purchased for him by
his mother. There he died early.
Et sum pulchra licet, tabula imperfecta, reliquit
Diffidens arti, me rude pictor opus.