Dr. Johnson & Fanny Burney:
   Being the Johnsonian Passages from the Works of Mme. D'Arblay.

                          Fanny Burney

               Edited by Chauncy Brewster Tinker.
           New York: Moffat, Yard and Company, 1911.




PART 1: Extract from the Early Diary


28th March.

MY DEAR DADDY,

My dear father seemed well pleased at my returning to my time; and
that is no small consolation and pleasure to me. So now, to our
Thursday morning party.

Mrs. and Miss Thrale, Miss Owen, and Mr. Seward came long before
Lexiphanes. Mrs. Thrale is a very pretty woman still; she is extremely
lively and chatty; has no supercilious or pedantic airs, and is really
gay and agreeable. Her daughter is about twelve years old, (stiff and
proud), I believe, (or else shy and reserved: I don't yet know which).
Miss Owen, who is a relation, is good-humoured and sensible enough;
she is a sort of butt, and, as such, a general favourite; for those
sort of characters are prodigiously useful in drawing out the wit and
pleasantry of others. Mr. Seward is a very polite, agreeable young
man.

My sister Burney was invited to meet and play to them. The
conversation was supported with a good deal of vivacity (N.B. my
father being at home) for about half an hour, and then Hetty and
Susette for the first time in public, played a duet; and in the midst
of this performance Dr. Johnson was announced. He is, indeed, very
ill-favoured; is tall and stout; but stoops terribly; he is almost
bent double. His mouth is almost [continually opening and shutting],
as if he was chewing. He has a strange method of frequently twirling
his fingers, and twisting his hands. His body is in continual
agitation, see-sawing up and down; his feet are never a moment quiet;
and, in short, his whole person is in perpetual motion. His dress,
too, considering the times, and that he had meant to put on his best
becomes, being engaged to dine in a large company, was as much out of
the common road as his figure; he had a large wig, snuff-colour coat,
and gold buttons, but no ruffles to his [shirt], doughty fists, and
black worsted stockings. He is shockingly near-sighted, and did not,
till she held out her hand to him, even know Mrs. Thrale. He poked his
nose over the keys of the harpsichord, till the duet was finished, and
then my father introduced Hetty to him as an old acquaintance, and he
cordially kissed her! When she was a little girl, he had made her a
present of The Idler.

His attention, however, was not to be diverted five minutes from the
books, as we were in the library; he pored over them, shelf by shelf,
almost touching the backs of them with his eye-lashes, as he read
their titles. At last, having fixed upon one, he began, without
further ceremony, to read to himself, all the time standing at a
distance from the company. We were all very much provoked, as we
perfectly languished to hear him talk; but it seems he is the most
silent creature, when not particularly drawn out, in the world. My
sister then played another duet with my father; but Dr. Johnson was so
deep in the Encyclopedie that as he is very deaf, I question if he
even knew what was going forward. When this was over, Mrs. Thrale, in
a laughing manner, said, 'Pray, Dr. Burney, can you tell me what that
song was and whose, which Savoi sung last night at Bach's Concert, and
which you did not hear?' My father confessed himself by no means so
good a diviner, not having had time to consult the stars, though in
the house of Sir Isaac Newton. However, wishing to draw Dr. Johnson
into some conversation, he told him the question. The Doctor, seeing
his drift, good-naturedly put away his book, and said very drolly,
'And pray, Sir, who is Bach? is he a piper?' Many exclamations of
surprise, you will believe, followed this question. 'Why you have read
his name often in the papers,' said Mrs. Thrale; and then she gave him
some account of his Concert, and the number of fine performances she
had heard at it.

'Pray,' said he, gravely, 'Madam, what is the expense?'

'Oh!' answered she, 'much trouble and solicitation, to get a
Subscriber's Ticket; -- or else, half a Guinea.'

'Trouble and solicitation,' said he, 'I will have nothing to do with;
but I would be willing to give eighteen pence.'

Ha! ha!

Chocolate being then brought, we adjourned to the drawing-room. And
here, Dr. Johnson being taken from the books, entered freely and most
cleverly into conversation; though it is remarkable he never speaks at
all, but when spoken to; nor does he ever start, though he so
admirably supports, any subject.

The whole party was engaged to dine at Mrs. Montagu's Dr. Johnson said
he had received the most flattering note he had ever read, or that any
body else had ever read, by way of invitation. 'Well! so have I too,'
cried Mrs. Thrale; 'so if a note from Mrs. Montagu is to be boasted
of, I beg mine may not be forgot.'

'Your note,' cried Dr. Johnson, 'can bear no comparison with mine; I
am at the head of the Philosophers, she says.'

'And I,' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'have all the Muses in my train!'

'A fair battle,' said my father. 'Come, compliment for compliment, and
see who will hold out longest.'

'Oh! I am afraid for Mrs. Thrale,' cried Mr. Seward; 'for I know Mrs.
Montague exerts all her forces, when she attacks Dr. Johnson.'

'Oh, yes!' said Mrs. Thrale, 'she has often, I know, flattered him,
till he has been ready to faint.'

'Well, ladies,' said my father, 'you must get him between you to-day,
and see which can lay on the paint thickest, Mrs. Thrale or Mrs.
Montagu.'

'I had rather,' cried the Doctor, drily, 'go to Bach's Concert!'

After this, they talked of Mr. Garrick and his late exhibition before
the King, to whom and to the Queen and Royal Family he read Lethe in
character, cest a dire, in different voices, and theatrically. Mr.
Seward gave us an account of a Fable, which Mr. Garrick had written,
by way of prologue or introduction, upon the occasion. In this he
says, that a blackbird, grown old and feeble, droops his wings, etc.
etc., and gives up singing; but being called upon by the eagle, his
voice recovers its powers, his spirits revive, he sets age at
defiance, and sings better than ever. The application is obvious.

'There is not,' said Dr. Johnson, 'much of the spirit of fabulosity in
this Fable; for the call of an eagle never yet had much tendency to
restore the voice of a blackbird!'Tis true that the fabulists
frequently make the wolves converse with the lambs,; but, when the
conversation is over, the lambs are sure to be eaten! And so the eagle
may entertain the blackbird; but the entertainment always ends in a
feast for the eagle.'

'They say,' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'that Garrick was extremely hurt at the
coolness of the King's applause, and did not find his reception such
as he expected.'

'He has been so long accustomed,' said Mr. Seward, 'to the thundering
approbation of the Theatre, that a mere 'Very well' must necessarily
and naturally disappoint him.'

'Sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'he should not, in a Royal apartment, expect
the hallowing and clamour of the One Shilling Company. The King, I
doubt not gave him as much applause as was rationally his due; and,
indeed, great and uncommon as is the merit of Mr. Garrick, no man will
be bold enough to assert he has not had his just proportion both of
fame and of profit. He has long reigned the unequalled favourite of
the public; and therefore nobody will mourn his hard fate, if the King
and the Royal Family were not transported into rapture, upon hearing
him read Lethe. Yet Mr. Garrick will complain to his friends, and his
friends will lament the King's want of feeling and taste; -- and then
Mr. Garrick will kindly excuse the King. He will say that His Majesty
might be thinking of something else; that the affairs of America might
occur to him; or some subject of more importance than Lethe; but,
though he will say this himself, he will not forgive his friends, if
they do not contradict him!'

But now that I have written this satire, it is but just both to Mr.
Garrick and to Dr. Johnson, to tell you what he said of him
afterwards, when he discriminated his character with equal candour and
humour.

'Garrick,' said he, 'is accused of vanity; but few men would have
borne such unremitting prosperity with greater, if with equal
moderation. He is accused, too, of avarice; but, were he not, he would
be accused of just the contrary; for he now lives rather as a prince
than an actor; but the frugality he practised, when he first appeared
in the world, and which, even then was perhaps beyond his necessity,
has marked his character ever since; and now, though his table, the
equipage, and manner of living, are all the most expensive, and equal
to those of a nobleman, yet the original stain still blots his name!
Though, had he not fixed upon himself the charge of avarice, he would
long since have been reproached with luxury and with living beyond his
station in magnificence and splendour.'

Another time he said of him, 'Garrick never enters a room, but he
regards himself as the object of general attention, from whom the
entertainment of the company is expected; and true it is, that he
seldom disappoints them; for he has infinite humour, a very just
proportion of wit, and more convivial pleasantry, than almost any
other man. But then off, as well as on the Stage, he is always an
Actor; for he thinks it so incumbent upon him to be sportive, that his
gaiety becomes mechanical from being habitual, and he can exert his
spirits at all times alike, without consulting his real disposition to
hilarity.



PART 2: Extracts from the Diary and Letters


July. . . .

I have also had a letter from Susanne. She informs me that my father,
when he took the books back to Streatham, actually acquainted Mrs.
Thrale with my secret. He took an opportunity, when they were alone
together, of saying that upon her recommendation, he had himself, as
well as my mother, been reading Evelina.

'Well!' cried she, 'and is it not a very pretty book? and a very
clever book? and a very comical book?'

'Why,' answered he, ''tis well enough; but I have something to tell
you about it.'

'Well? what?' cried she; 'has Mrs. Cholmondeley found out the author?'

'No,' returned he, 'not that I know of; but I believe I have, though
but very lately.

'Well, pray let's hear!' cried she eagerly, 'I want to know him of all
things.'

How my father must laugh at the him! He then, however, undeceived her
in regard to that particular, by telling her it was 'our Fanny!' for
she knows all about all our family, as my father talks to her of his
domestic concerns without any reserve.

A hundred handsome things, of course, followed; and she afterwards
read some of the comic parts to Dr. Johnson, Mr. Thrale, and whoever
came near her. How I should have quivered had I been there! but they
tell me that Dr. Johnson laughed as heartily as my father himself did.


August 3. --

I have an immensity to write. Susan has copied me a letter which Mrs.
Thrale has written to my father, upon the occasion of returning my
mother two novels by Madame Riccoboni. It is so honourable to me, and
so sweet in her, that I must copy it for my faithful journal.

  Wednesday, 22 (July), 1778,
  Streatham.

  'Dear Sir -- I forgot to give you the novels home in your carriage
  which I now send by Mr. Abingdon s. Evelina certainly excels them far
  enough, both in probability of story, elegance of sentiment, and
  general power over the mind, whether exerted in humour or pathos. Add
  to this, that Riccoboni is a veteran author, and all she ever can be;
  but I cannot tell what might not be expected from Evelina, was she to
  try her genius at Comedy. So far had I written of my letter, when Mr.
  Johnson returned home, full of the praises of the Book I had lent
  him, and protesting there were passages in it which might do honour
  to Richardson. We talk of it for ever, and he feels ardent after the
  denouement; he could not get rid of the Rogue, he said! I lent him
  the second volume, and he is now busy with the other two [sic]. You
  must be more a philosopher, and less a father, than I wish you, not
  to be pleased with this letter; -- and the giving such pleasure
  yields to nothing but receiving it. Long my Dear Sir, may you live to
  enjoy the just praises of your children, and long may they live to
  deserve and delight such a parent! These are things that you would
  say in verse; but Poetry implies Fiction, and all this is naked truth.

  'Give my letter to my little friend, and a warm invitation to come
and
  eat fruit, while the season lasts. My Compliments to Mrs. Burney, and
  kindest wishes to all your flock, etc.'

How sweet, how amiable in this charming woman is her desire of making
my dear father satisfied with his scribbler's attempt! I do, indeed,
feel the most grateful love for her.

But Dr. Johnson's approbation! -- it almost crazed me with agreeable
surprise -- it gave me such a flight of spirits, that I danced a jig
to Mr. Crisp, without any preparation, music, or explanation -- to his
no small amazement and diversion. I left him, however, to make his own
comments upon my friskiness, without affording him the smallest
assistance.

Susan also writes me word, that when my father went last to Streatham,
Dr. Johnson was not there, but Mrs. Thrale told him, that when he gave
her the first volume of Evelina which she had lent him, he said, 'Why,
madam, why, what a charming book you lent me!' and eagerly inquired
for the rest. He was particularly pleased with the Snow-hill scenes,
and said that Mr. Smith's vulgar gentility was admirably portrayed;
and when Sir Clement joins them, he said there was a shade of
character prodigiously well marked. Well may it be said, that the
greatest minds are ever the most candid to the inferior set! I think I
should love Dr. Johnson for such lenity to a poor mere worm in
literature, even if I were not myself the identical grub he has
obliged.

Susan has sent me a little note which has really been less pleasant to
me, because it has alarmed me for my future concealment. It is from
Mrs. Williams, an exceedingly pretty poetess, who has the misfortune
to be blind, but who has, to make some amends, the honour of residing
in the house of Dr. Johnson; for though he lives almost wholly at
Sreatham, he always keeps his apartments in town, and this lady acts
as mistress of his house.

  July 25,

  Mrs. Williams sends compliments to Dr. Burney, and begs he wil
  intercede with Miss Burney to do her the favour to lend her the
  reading of Evelina.

I was quite confounded at this request, which proves that Mrs. Thrale
has told Dr. Johnson of my secret, and that he has told Mrs. Williams,
and that she has told the person whoever it be, whom she got to write
the note.

I instantly scrawled a hasty letter to town to entreat my father would
be so good as to write to her, to acquaint her with my earnest and
unaffected desire to remain unknown.

And yet, though I am frightened at this affair, I am by no means
insensible to the honour which I receive from the certainty that Dr.
Johnson must have spoken very well of the book, to have induced Mrs.
Williams to send to our house for it. She has known my father indeed
for some years, but not with any intimacy; and I never saw her, though
the perusal of her poems has often made me wish to be acquainted with
her.

I now come to last Saturday evening, when my beloved father came to
Chessington, in full health, charming spirits, and all kindness,
openness, and entertainment.

I inquired what he had done about Mrs. Williams. He told me he went to
her himself at my desire, for if he had written she could not herself
have read the note. She apologised very much for the liberty she had
taken, and spoke highly of the book, though she had only heard the
first volume, as she was dependent upon a lady's good nature and time
for hearing any part of it, but she went so far as to say that 'his
daughter was certainly the first writer, in that way, now living.'

In his way hither, he had stopped at Streatham, and he settled with
Mrs. Thrale that he would call on her again in his way to town, and
carry me with him! and Mrs. Thrale said, 'We all long to know her.'

I have been in a kind of twitter ever since, for there seems something
very formidable in the idea of appearing as an authoress! I ever
dreaded it, as it is a title which must raise more expectations than I
have any chance of answering. Yet I am highly flattered by her
invitation, and highly delighted in the prospect of being introduced
to the Streatham society.


London, August. --

I have now to write an account of the most consequential day I have
spent since my birth; namely, my Streatham visit.

Our journey to Streatham was the least pleasant part of the day, for
the roads were dreadfully dusty, and I was really in the fidgets from
thinking what my reception might be, and from fearing they would
expect a less awkward and backward kind of person than I was sure they
would find.

Mr. Thrale's house is white, and very pleasantly situated, in a fine
paddock. Mrs. Thrale was strolling about, and came to us as we got out
of the chaise.

'Ah,' cried she, 'I hear Dr. Burney's voicel And you have brought your
daughter? -- well, now you are good!'

She then received me, taking both my hands, and with mixed politeness
and cordiality welcoming me to Streatham. She led me into the house,
and addressed herself almost wholly for a few minutes to my father, as
if to give me an assurance she did not mean to regard me as a show, or
to distress or frighten me by drawing me out. Afterwards she took me
upstairs, and showed me the house, and said she had very much wished
to see me at Streatham, and should always think herself much obliged
to Dr. Burney for his goodness in bringing me, which she looked upon
as a very great favour.

But though we were some time together, and though she was so very
civil, she did not hint at my book, and I love her very much more than
ever for her delicacy in avoiding a subject which she could not but
see would have greatly embarassed me.

When we returned to the music-room we found Miss Thrale was with my
father. Miss Thrale is a very fine girl, about fourteen years of age,
but cold and reserved, though full of knowledge and intelligence.

Soon after, Mrs. Thrale took me to the library; she talked a little
while upon common topics, and then, at last, she mentioned Evelina.

'Yesterday at supper,' said she, 'we talked it all over, and discussed
all your characters; but Dr. Johnson's favourite is Mr. Smith. He
declares the fine gentleman manque was never better drawn; and he
acted him all the evening, saying he was 'all for the ladies!' He
repeated whole scenes by heart. I declare I was astonished at him. Oh
you can't imagine how much he is pleased with the book; he 'could not
get rid of the rogue,' he told me. 'But was it not droll,' he said,
'that I should recommend it to Dr. Burney? and tease him, so
innocently, to read it?'

I now prevailed upon Mrs. Thrale to let me amuse myself, and she went
to dress. I then prowled about to choose some book, and I saw, upon
the reading-table, Evelina. -- I had just fixed upon the new
translation of Cicero's Laelius when the library door was opened, and
Mr. Seward entered. I instantly put away my book, because I dreaded
being thought studious and affected. He offered his service to find
anything for me, and then, in the same breath, ran on to speak of the
book with which I had myself 'favoured the world!'

The exact words he began with I cannot recollect, for I was actually
confounded by the attack;, and his abrupt manner of letting me know he
was au fait equally astonished and provoked me. How different from the
delicacy of Mr. and Mrs. Thrale!

When we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale made my father and me sit
on each side of her. I said that I hoped I did not take Dr. Johnson's
place;, for he had not yet appeared.

'No,' answered Mrs. Thrale, 'he will sit by you, which I am sure will
give him great pleasure.'

Soon after we were seated, this great man entered. I have so true a
veneration for him, that the very sight of him inspires me with
delight and reverence, notwithstanding the cruel infirmities to which
he is subject; for he has almost perpetual convulsive movements,
either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, and sometimes of all
together.

Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place. We had a
noble dinner, and a most elegant dessert. Dr. Johnson, in the middle
of dinner, asked Mrs. Thrale what was in some little pies that were
near him.

'Mutton,' answered she, 'so I don t ask you to eat any, because I know
you despise it.',

'No, madam, no,' cried he; 'I despise nothing that is good of its
sort; I am too proud now to eat of it. Sitting by Miss Burney makes me
very proud to-day!'

'Miss Burney,' said Mrs. Thrale, laughing, 'you must take great care
of your heart if Dr. Johnson attacks it; for I assure you he is not
often successless.

'What's that you say, madam?' cried he; 'are you making mischief
between the young lady and me already?'

A little while after he drank Miss Thrale's health and mine and then
added:

''Tis a terrible thing that we cannot wish young ladies well, without
wishing them to become old women!'

'But some people,' said Mr. Seward, 'are old and young at the same
time, for they wear so well that they never look old.'

'No, sir, no,' cried the Doctor, laughing; 'that never yet was; you
might as well say that they are at the same time tall and short. I
remember an epitaph to that purpose, which is in -- .

(I have quite forgot what, -- and also the name it was made upon, but
the rest I recollect exactly:)  ' -- lies buried here;,
So early wise, so lasting fair,
That none, unless her years you told,
Thought her a child, or thought her old.'


Mrs. Thrale then repeated some lines in French, and Dr. Johnson some
more in Latin. An epilogue of Mr. Garrick's to Bonduca was then
mentioned, and everybody agreed it was the worst he has ever made.

'And yet,' said Mr. Seward, 'it has been very much admired; but it is
in praise of English valour, and so I suppose the subject made it
popular.'

'I don't know, sir,' said Dr. Johnson, 'anything about the subject,
for I could not read on till I came to it; I got through half a dozen
lines, but I could observe no other subject than eternal dulness. I
don't know what is the matter with David; I am afraid he is grown
superannuated, for his prologues and epilogues used to be
incomparable.'

'Nothing is so fatiguing,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'as the life of a wit: he
and Wilkes are the two oldest men of their ages I know; for they have
both worn themselves out, by being eternally on the rack to give
entertainment to others.'

'David, madam,' said the Doctor, 'looks much older than he is; for his
face has had double the business of any other man's; it is never at
rest; when he speaks one minute, he has quite a different countenance
to what he assumes the next; I don't believe he ever kept the same
look for half an hour together, in the whole course of his life; and
such an eternal, restless, fatiguing play of the muscles, must
certainly wear out a man's face before its real time.'

'Oh yes,' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'we must certainly make some allowance
for such wear and tear of a man's face.'

The next name that was started, was that of Sir John Hawkins: and Mrs.
Thrale said, 'Why now, Dr. Johnson, he is another of those whom you
suffer nobody to abuse but yourself; Garrick is one, too; for if any
other person speaks against him, you brow-beat him in a minute!'

'Why, madam,' answered he, 'they don't know when to abuse him, and
when to praise him; I will allow no man to speak ill of David that he
does not deserve; and as to Sir John, why really I believe him to be
an honest man at the bottom: but to be sure he is penurious, and he is
mean, and it must be owned he has a degree of brutality, and a
tendency to savageness, that cannot easily be defended.'

We all laughed, as he meant we should, at this curious manner of
speaking in his favour, and he then related an anecdote that he said
he knew to be true in regard to his meanness. He said that Sir John
and he once belonged to the same club, but that as he eat no supper
after the first night of his admission, he desired to be excused
paying his share.

'And was he excused?'

'Oh yes; for no man is angry at another for being inferior to himself;
we all scorned him, and admitted his plea. For my part I was such a
fool as to pay my share for wine, though I never tasted any. But Sir
John was a most unclubable man!'

How delighted was I to hear this mister of languages so unaffectedly
and socially and good-naturedly make words, for the promotion of sport
and good-humour.

'And this,' continued he, 'reminds me of a gentleman and lady with
whom I travelled once; I suppose I must call them gentleman and lady,
according to form, because they travelled in their own coach and four
horses. But at the first inn where we stopped, the lady called for --
a pint of ale! and when it came, quarrelled with the waiter for not
giving full measure. -- Now, Madame Duval could not have done a
grosser thing!

Oh, how everybody laughed! and to be sure I did not glow at all, nor
munch fast, nor look on my plate, nor lose any part of my usual
composure! But how grateful do I feel to this dear Dr. Johnson, for
never naming me and the book as belonging one to the other, and yet
making an allusion that showed his thoughts led to it, and, at the
same time, that seemed to justify the character as being natural! But,
indeed, the delicacy I met with from him, and from all the Thrales,
was yet more flattering to me than the praise with which I have heard
they have honoured my book.

After dinner, when Mrs. Thrale and I left the gentlemen, we had a
conversation that to me could not but be delightful, as she was all
good-humour, spirits, sense and agreeability. Surely, I may make
words, when at a loss, if Dr. Johnson does.

However I shall not attempt to write any more particulars of this day
-- than which I have never known a happier, because the chief subject
that was started and kept up, was an invitation for me to Streatham,
and a desire that I might accompany my father thither next week, and
stay with them some time.

We left Streatham at about eight o clock, and Mr. Seward, who handed
me into the chaise, added his interest to the rest, that my father
would not fail to bring me again next week to stay with them some
time. In short I was loaded with civilities from them all. And my ride
home was equally happy with the rest of the day, for my kind and most
beloved father was so happy in my happiness, and congratulated me so
sweetly that he could, like myself, think on no other subject: and he
told me that, after passing through such a house as that, I could have
nothing to fear -- meaning for my book, my honoured book.

Yet my honours stopped not here; for Hetty, who with her sposo was
here to receive us, told me she had lately met Mrs. Reynolds, sister
of Sir Joshua; and that she talked very much and very highly of a new
novel called Evelina; though without a shadow of suspicion as to the
scribbler; and not contented with her own praise, she said that Sir
Joshua, who began it one day when he was too much engaged to go on
with it, was so much caught, that he could think of nothing else, and
was quite absent all the day, not knowing a word that was said to him:
and, when he took it up again, found himself so much interested in it,
that he sat up all night to finish it!

Sir Joshua, it seems, vows he would give fifty pounds to know the
author! I have also heard, by the means of Charles, that other persons
have declared they will find him out!

This intelligence determined me upon going myself to Mr. Lowndes, and
discovering what sort of answers he made to such curious inquirers as
I found were likely to address him. But as I did not dare trust myself
to speak, for I felt that I should not be able to act my part well, I
asked my mother to accompany me.


Streatham,Sunday, Aug. 23. --

I know not how to express the fulness of my contentment at this sweet
place. All my best expectations are exceeded, and you know they were
not very moderate. If, when my dear father comes, Susan and Mr. Crisp
were to come too, I believe it would require at least a day's
pondering to enable me to form another wish.

Our journey was charming. The kind Mrs. Thrale would give courage to
the most timid. She did not ask me questions, or catechise me upon
what I knew, or use any means to draw me out, but made it her business
to draw herself out -- that is, to start subjects, to support them
herself, and to take all the weight of the conversation, as if it
behoved her to and me entertainment. But I am so much in love with
her, that I shall be obliged to run away from the subject, or shall
write of nothing else.

When we arrived here, Mrs. Thrale showed me my room, which is an
exceedingly pleasant one, and then conducted me to the library, there
to divert myself while she dressed.

Miss Thrale soon joined me: and I begin to like her. Mr. Thrale was
neither well nor in spirits all day. Indeed, he seems not to be a
happy man, though he has every means of happiness in his power. But I
think I have rarely seen a very rich man with a light heart and light
spirits.

Dr. Johnson was in the utmost good humour.

There was no other company at the house all day.

After dinner, I had a delightful stroll with Mrs. Thrale, and she gave
me a list of all her 'good neighbours' in the town of Streatham, and
said she was determined to take me to see Mr. T -- , the clergyman,
who was a character I could not but be diverted with, for he had so
furious and so absurd a rage for building, that in his garden he had
as many temples, and summer houses, and statues as in the gardens of
Stow, though he had so little room for them that they all seemed
tumbling one upon another.

In short, she was all unaffected drollery and sweet good humour.

At tea we all met again, and Dr. Johnson was gaily sociable. He gave a
very droll account of the children of Mr. Langton,

'Who,' he said, 'might be very good children if they were let alone;
but the father is never easy when he is not making them do something
which they cannot do; they must repeat a fable, or a speech, or the
Hebrew alphabet; and they might as well count twenty, for what they
know of the matter: however, the father says half, for he prompts
every other word. But he could not have chosen a man who would have
been less entertained by such means.'

'I believe not!' cried Mrs. Thrale; 'nothing is more ridiculous than
parents cramming their children's nonsense down other people's
throats. I keep mine as much out of the way as I can.'

'Yours, madam,' answered he, 'are in nobody's way; no children can be
better managed or less troublesome; but your fault is a too great
perverseness in not allowing anybody to give them anything. Why should
they not have a cherry or a gooseberry as well as bigger children?'

'Because they are sure to return such gifts by wiping their hands upon
the giver's gown or coat, and nothing makes children more offensive.
People only make the offer to please the parents, and they wish the
poor children at Jericho when they accept it.'

'But, madam, it is a great deal more offensive to refuse them. Let
those who make the offer look to their own gowns and coats, for when
you interfere, they only wish you at Jericho.'

'It is difficult,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'to please everybody.'

Indeed, the freedom with which Dr. Johnson condemns whatever he
disapproves, is astonishing; and the strength of words he uses would,
to most people, be intolerable; but, Mrs.Thrale seems to have a
sweetness of disposition that equals all her other excellences, and
far from making a point of vindicating herself, she generally receives
his admonitions with the most respectful silence.

But I fear to say all I think at present of Mrs. Thrale, lest some
flaws should appear by and by, that may make me think differently. And
yet, why shou!d I not indulge the now, as well as the then, since it
will be with so much more pleasure? In short, I do think her
delightful; she has talents to create admiration, good humour to
excite love, understanding to give entertainment, and a heart which,
like my dear father's, seems already fitted for another world. My own
knowledge of her, indeed, is very little for such a character; but all
I have heard, and all I see, so well agree, that I won't prepare
myself for a future disappointment.

But to return. Mrs. Thrale then asked whether Mr. Langton took any
better care of his affairs than formerly?

'No, madam,' cried the doctor, 'and never will; he complains of the
ill effects of habit, and rests contentedly upon a confessed
indolence. He told his father himself that he had 'no turn to
economy'; but a thief might as well plead that he had no turn to
honesty.'

Was not that excellent?

At night, Mrs. Thrale asked if I would have anything? I answered,
'No'; but Dr. Johnson said,

'Yes: she is used, madam, to suppers; she would like an egg or two,
and a few slices of ham, or a rasher -- a rasher, I believe, would
please her better.'

How ridiculous! However, nothing could persuade Mrs. Thrale not to
have the cloth laid: and Dr. Johnson was so facetious, that he
challenged Mr. Thrale to get drunk!

'I wish,' said he, 'my master would say to me, Johnson, if you will
oblige me, you will call for a bottle of Toulon, and then we will set
to it, glass for glass, till it is done; and after that, I will say,
Thrale, if you will oblige me, you will call for another bottle of
Toulon, and then we will set to it, glass for glass, till that is
done: and by the time we should have drunk the two bottles, we should
be so happy, and such good friends, that we should fly into each
other's arms, and both together call for the third!'

I ate nothing, that they might not again use such a ceremony with me.
Indeed, their late dinners forbid suppers, especially as Dr. Johnson
made me eat cake at tea, for he held it till I took it, with an odd or
absent complaisance.

He was extremely comical after supper, and would not suffer Mrs.
Thrale and me to go to bed for near an hour after we made the motion.

The Cumberland family was discussed. Mrs. Thrale said that Mr.
Cumberland was a very amiable man in his own house; but as a father
mighty simple; which accounts for the ridiculous conduct and manners
of his daughters, concerning whom we had much talk, and were all of a
mind; for it seems they used the same rude stare to Mrs. Thrale that
so much disgusted us at Mrs. Ord's: she says that she really concluded
something was wrong, and that, in getting out of the coach, she had
given her cap some unlucky cuff, -- by their merciless staring.

I told her that I had not any doubt, when I had met with the same
attention from them, but that they were calculating the exact cost of
all my dress. Mrs. Thrale then told me that, about two years ago they
were actually hissed out of the playhouse, on account of the extreme
height of their feathers!

Dr. Johnson instantly composed an extempore dialogue between himself
and Mr. Cumberland upon this subject, in which he was to act the part
of a provoking condoler:

'Mr. Cumberland (I should say), how monstrously ill-bred is a
playhouse mob! How I pitied poor Miss Cumberland's about that affair!'

'What affair?' cries he, for he has tried to forget it.

'Why,' says I, 'that unlucky accident they met with some time ago.'

'Accident? what accident, sir?'

'Why, you know, when they were hissed out of the playhouse -- you
remember the time -- oh, the English mob is most insufferable! they
are boors, and have no manner of taste!'

Mrs. Thrale accompanied me to my room, and stayed chatting with me for
more than an hour....

Now for this morning's breakfast.

Dr. Johnson, as usual, came last into the library; he was in high
spirits, and full of mirth and sport. I had the honour of sitting next
to him; and now, all at once, he flung aside his reserve, thinking,
perhaps, that it was time I should fling aside mine.

Mrs. Thrale told him that she intended taking me to Mr. T -- 's.

'So you ought, madam,' cried he; ''tis your business to be Cicerone to
her.'

Then suddenly he snatched my hand, and kissing it,

'Ah!' he added, 'they will little think what a tartar you carry to
them!'

'No, that they won't!' cried Mrs. Thrale; 'Miss Burney looks so meek
and so quiet, nobody would suspect what a comical girl she is; but I
believe she has a great deal of malice at heart.'

'Oh, she's a toad!' cried the doctor, laughing -- 'a sly young rogue!
with her Smiths and her Branghtons!'

'Why, Dr. Johnson,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'I hope you are very well this
morning! if one may judge by your spirits and good humour, the fever
you threatened us with is gone off.'

He had complained that he was going to be ill last night.

'Why no, madam, no,' answered he, 'I am not yet well; I could not
sleep at all; there I lay restless and uneasy, and thinking all the
time of Miss Burney. Perhaps I have offended her, thought I; perhaps
she is angry; I have seen her but once, and I talked to her of a
rasher! -- Were you angry?'

I think I need not tell you my answer.

'I have been endenvouring to find some excuse,' continued he, 'and, as
I could not sleep, I got up, and looked for some authority for the
word; and I find, madam, it is used by Dryden: in one of his
prologues, he says -- 'And snatch a homely rasher from the coals.' So
you must not mind me, madam;, I say strange things, but I mean no
harm.'

I was almost afraid he thought I was really idiot enough to have taken
him seriously; but, a few minutes after, he put his hand on my arm,
and shaking his head, exclaimed,

'Oh, you are a sly little rogue! -- what a Holborn beau have you
drawn!'

'Ay, Miss Burney,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'the Holborn beau is Dr.
Johnson's favourite; and we have all your characters by heart, from
Mr. Smith up to Lady Louisa.'

'Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith is the man!' cried he, laughing violently.
'Harry Fielding never drew so good a character! -- such a fine varnish
of low politeness! -- such a struggle to appear a gentleman! Madam,
there is no character better drawn anywhere -- in any book or by any
author.

I almost poked myself under the table. Never did I feel so delicious a
confusion since I was born! But he added a great deal more, only I
cannot recollect his exact Fords, and I do not choose to give him
mine.

'Come, come,' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'we'll torment her no more about her
book, for I see it really plagues her. I own I thought for awhile it
was only affectation, for I m sure if the book were mine I should wish
to hear of nothing else. But we shall teach her in time how proud she
ought to be of such a performance.'

'Ah, madam,' cried the Doctor, 'be in no haste to teach her that;
she'll speak no more to us when she knows her own weight.'

'Oh, but, sir,' cried she, 'if Mr. Thrale has his way, she will become
our relation, and then it will be hard if she won't acknowledge us.'

You may think I stared, but she went on,

'Mr. Thrale says nothing would make him half so happy as giving Miss
Burney to Sir J -- L -- .'

Mercy! what an exclamation did I give. I wonder you did not hear me to
St. Martin's Street. However, she continued,

'Mr. Thrale says, Miss Burney seems more formed to draw a husband to
herself, by her humour when gay, and her good sense when serious, than
almost anybody he ever saw.'

'He does me much honour,' cried I: though cannot say I much enjoyed
such a proof of his good opinion as giving me to Sir J -- . L -- ; but
Mr. Thrale is both his uncle and his guardian, and thinks, perhaps, he
would do a mutual good office in securing me so much money, and his
nephew a decent companion. Oh, if he knew how little I require with
regard to money -- how much to even bear with a companion! But he was
not brought up with such folks as my father, my Daddy Crisp, and my
Susan, and does not know what indifference to all things, but good
society such people as those inspire.

'My master says a very good speech,' cried the Doctor, 'if Miss
Burney's husband should have anything in common with herself; but I
know not how we can level her with Sir J -- L -- , unless she would be
content to put her virtues and talents in a scale against his
thousands; and poor Sir J -- must give cheating weight even then!
However, if we bestow such a prize upon him he shall settle his whole
fortune on her.'

Ah! thought I, I am more mercenary than you fancy me, for not even
that would bribe me high enough.

Before Dr. Johnson had finished his éloge, I was actually on
the ground, for there was no standing it, -- or sitting it, rather;
and Mrs. Thrale seemed delighted for me.

'I assure you,' she said, 'nobody can do your book more justice than
Dr. Johnson does; and yet, do you remember, sir, how unwilling you
were to read it? He took it up, just looked at the first letter, and
then put it away, and said, 'I don't think I have any taste for it!'
-- but when he was going to town, I put the first volume into the
coach with him; and then, when he came home, the very first words he
said to me were 'Why, madam, this Evelina is a charming creature! --
and then he teased me to know who she married, and what became of her,
-- and I gave him the rest. For my part, I used to read it in bed, and
could not part with it: I laughed at the second, and I cried at the
third; but what a trick was that of Dr. Burney's, never to let me know
whose it was till I had read it! Suppose it had been something I had
not liked! Oh, it was a vile trick!'

'No, madam, not at all!' cried the Doctor, 'for, in that case, you
would never have known; -- all would have been safe, for he would
neither have told you who wrote it, nor Miss Burney what you said of
it.'

Some time after the Doctor began laughing to himself, and then,
suddenly turning to me, he called out, 'Only think, Polly! Miss has
danced with a lord!'

'Ah, poor Evelina!' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'I see her now in Kensington
Gardens. What she must have suffered! Poor girl! what fidgets she must
have been in! And I know Mr. Smith, too, very well; -- I always have
him before me at the Hampstead Ball, dressed in a white coat, and a
tambour waistcoat, worked in green silk. Poor Mr. Seward! Mr. Johnson
made him so mad t'other day! 'Why, Seward,' said he, 'how smart you
are dressed! why, you only want a tambour waistcoat to look like Mr.
Smith.' But I am very fond of Lady Louisa; I think her as well drawn
as any character in the book; so fine, so affected, so languishing;
and, at the same time so insolent!

She then ran on with several of her speeches.

Some time after, she gave Dr. Johnson a letter from Dr. Jebb,
concerning one of the gardeners who is very ill. When he had read it,
he grumbled violently to himself, and put it away with marks of
displeasure.

'What's the matter, sir!' said Mrs. Thrale; 'do you find any fault
with the letter?'

'No, madam, the letter's well enough, if the man knew how to write his
own name; but it moves my indignation to see a gentleman take pains to
appear a tradesman. Mr. Branghton would have written his name with
just such beastly flourishes.'

'Ay, well,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'he is a very agreeable man, and an
excellent physician, and a great favourite of mine, and so he is of
Miss Burney's.'

'Why, I have no objection to the man, madam, if he would write his
name as he ought to do.'

'Well, it does not signify,' cried Mrs. Thrale;, 'but the commercial
fashion of writing gains ground every day, for all Miss Burney abuses
it, with her Smiths and her Branghtons. Does not the great Mr. Pennant
write like a clerk, without any pronouns? and does not everybody
flourish their names till nobody can read them?

After this they talked over a large party of company who are invited
to a formal and grand dinner for next Monday, and among others Admiral
Montagu was mentioned. The Doctor, turning to me with a laugh, said,

'You must mark the old sailor, Miss Burney; he'll be a character.'

'Ah!' cried Mrs. Thrale, who was going out of the room, 'how I wish
you would hatch up a comedy between you! do, fall to work!'

A pretty proposal! to be sure Dr. Johnson would be very proud of such
a fellow-labourer!

As soon as we were alone together, he said,

'These are as good people as you can be with; you can go to no better
house; they are all good nature; nothing makes them angry.'

As I have always heard from my father that every individual at
Streatham spends the morning alone, I took the first opportunity of
absconding to my room, and amused myself in writing till I tired.
About noon, when I went into the library, book hunting, Mrs. Thrale
came to me.

We had a very nice confab about various books, and exchanged opinions
and imitations of Baretti; she told me many excellent tales of him,
and I, in return, related my stories.

She gave me a long and very entertaining account of Dr. Goldsmith, who
was intimately known here;, but in speaking of The Goodnatured Man,
when I extolled my favourite Croaker, I found that admirable character
was a downright theft from Dr. Johnson. Look at the Rambler, and you
will find Suspirius is the man, and that not merely the idea, but the
particulars of the character, are all stolen thence!

While we were yet reading this Rambler, Dr. Johnson came in: we told
him what we were about.

'Ah, madam!' cried he, 'Goldsmith was not scrupulous; but he would
have been a great man had he known the real value of his own internal
resources.'

'Miss Burney,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'is fond of his Vicar of Wakefield:
and so am I; -- don't you like it, sir?'

'No, madam, it is very faulty; there is nothing of real life in it,
and very little of nature. It is a mere fanciful performance.'

He then seated himself upon a sofa, and calling to me, said, 'Come, --
Evelina, -- come and sit by me.'

I obeyed; and he took me almost in his arms, -- that is, one of his
arms, for one would go three times at least, round me, -- and,
half-laughing, half-serious, he charged me to 'be a good girl!'

'But, my dear,' continued he with a very droll look, 'what makes you
so fond of the Scotch? I don't like you for that; I hate these Scotch,
and so must you. I wish Branghton had sent the dog to jail! That
Scotch dog Macartney.'

'Why, sir,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'don't you remember he says he would,
but that he should get nothing byit?'

'Why, ay, true,' cried the doctor, see-sawing very solemnly, 'that,
indeed, is some palliation for his forbearance. But I must not have
you so fond of the Scotch, my little Burney; make your hero what you
will but a Scotchman. Besides, you write Scotch -- you say 'the one,'
-- my dear, that's not English. Never use that phrase again.'

'Perhaps,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'it may be used in Macartney's letter,
and then it will be a propriety.'

'No, madam, no!' cried he; 'you can't make a beauty of it; it is in
the third volume; put it in Macartney's letter, and welcome! -- that,
or anything that is nonsense.'

'Why, surely,' I cried, 'the poor man is used ill enough by the
Branghtons.',

'But Branghton,' said he, 'only hates him because of his wretchedness,
-- poor fellow! -- But, my dear love, how should he ever have eaten a
good dinner before he came to England?'

And then he laughed violently at young Branghton's idea.

'Well,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'I always liked Macartney; he is a very
pretty character, and I took to him, as the folks say.'

'Why, madam,' answered he. 'I like Macartney myself. Yes, poor fellow,
I liked the man, but I love not the nation.'

And then he proceeded, in a dry manner, to make at once sarcastic
reflections on the Scotch and flattering speeches to me, for
Macartney's firing at the national insults of young Branghton: his
stubborn resolution in not owning, even to his bosom friend, his
wretchedness of poverty; and his fighting at last for the honour of
his nation, when he resisted all other provocations; he said, were all
extremely well marked.

We stayed with him till just dinner time, and then we were obliged to
run away and dress; but Dr. Johnson called out to me as I went --

'Miss Burney, I must settle that affair of the Scotch with you at our
leisure.'

At dinner we had the company, or rather the presence, for he did not
speak two words, of Mr. E -- , the clergyman, I believe, of Streatham.
And afterwards, Mrs. Thrale took the trouble to go with me to the T --
's.

Dr. Johnson, who has a love of social converse that nobody, without
living under the same roof with him, would suspect, quite begged us
not to go till he went to town; but as we were hatted and ready, Mrs.
Thrale only told him she rejoiced to find him so jealous of our
companies, and then away we whisked, -- she, Miss Thrale, and my
ladyship.

I could write some tolerable good sport concerning this visit, but
that I wish to devote all the time I can snatch for writing, to
recording what passes here; themes of mere ridicule offer everywhere.

We got home late, and had the company of Mr. E -- , and of Mr. Rose
Fuller, a young man who lives at Streatham, and is nephew of the
famous Rose Fuller; and whether Dr. Johnson did not like them, or
whether he was displeased that we went out, or whether he was not
well, I know not; but he never opened his mouth, except in answer to a
question, till he bid us good-night.


Saturday Morning. --

Dr. Johnson was again all himself; and so civil to me! -- even
admiring how I dressed myself. Indeed, it is well I have so much of
his favour; for it seems he always speaks his mind concerning the
dress of ladies, and all ladies who are here obey his injunctions
implicitly, and alter whatever he disapproves. This is a part of his
character that much surprises me; but notwithstanding he is sometimes
so absent, and always so near sighted, he scrutinises into every part
of almost everybody's appearance. They tell me of a Miss Brown, who
often visits here, and who has a slovenly way of dressing. 'And when
she comes down in the morning,' says Mrs. Thrale, 'her hair will be
all loose, and her cap half off; and then Dr. Johnson, who sees
something is wrong, and does not know where the fault is, concludes it
is in the cap, and says, 'My dear, what do you wear such a vile cap
for?' 'I'll change it, sir,' cries the poor girl, 'if you don't like
it.' 'Ay, do,' he says; and away runs poor Miss Brown; but when she
gets on another, it's the same thing, for the cap has nothing to do
with the fault. And then she wonders Dr. Johnson should not like the
cap, for she thinks it very pretty. And so on with her gown, which he
also makes her change; but if the poor girl were to change through all
her wardrobe, unless she could put her things on better, he would
still find fault.'

When Dr. Johnson was gone, she told me of my mother's being obliged to
change her dress.

'Now,' said she, 'Mrs. Burney had on a very pretty linen jacket and
coat, and was going to church, but Dr. Johnson, who, I suppose, did
not like her in a jacket, saw something was the matter, and so found
fault with the linen; and he looked and peered, and said, 'Why, madam,
this won't do! you must not go to church so!' So away went poor Mrs.
Burney and changed her gown! And when she had done so, he did not like
it, but he did not know why; so he told her she should not wear a
black hat and cloak in summer. Oh, how he did bother poor Mrs. Burney!
and himself too, for if the things had been put on to his mind, he
would have taken no notice of them.'

'Why,' said Mr. Thrale, very drily, 'I don't think Mrs. Burney a very
good dresser.'

'Last time she came,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'she was in a white cloak, and
she told Dr. Johnson she had got her old white cloak scoured on
purpose to oblige him! 'Scoured!' said he, 'ay, -- have you, madam?'
-- so he see-sawed, for he could not for shame find fault, but he did
not seem to like the scouring.'

So I think myself amazingly fortunate to be approved by him; for, if
he disliked, alack-a-day, how could I change! But he has paid me some
very fine compliments upon this subject.

I was very sorry when the doctor went to town, though Mrs. Thrale made
him promise to return to Monday's dinner; and he has very
affectionately invited me to visit him in the winter, when he is at
home: and he talked to me a great deal of Mrs. Williams, and gave me a
list of her works, and said I must visit them; -- which I am sure I
shall be very proud of doing.

And now let me try to recollect an account he gave us of certain
celebrated ladies of his acquaintance: an account which, had you heard
from himself, would have made you die with laughing, his manner is so
peculiar, and enforces his humour so originally.

It was begun by Mrs. Thrale's apologising to him for troubling him
with some question she thought trifling -- Oh, I remember! We had been
talking of colours, and of the fantastic names given to them, and why
the palest lilac should be called a soupir etouffe; and when Dr.
Johnson came in she applied to him.

'Why, madam,' said he with wonderful readiness, 'it is called a
stifled sigh because it is checked in its progress, and only half a
colour.'

I could not help expressing my amazement at his universal readiness
upon all subjects, and Mrs. Thrale said to him,

'Sir, Miss Burney wonders at your patience with such stuff; but I tell
her you are used to me, for I believe I torment you with more foolish
questions than anybody else dares to.'

'No, madam,' said he, 'you don't torment me; -- you tease me, indeed,
sometimes.'

'Ay, so I do, Dr. Johnson, and I wonder you bear with my nonsense.'

'No, madam, you never talk nonsense; you have as much sense, and more
wit, than any woman I know.!'

'Oh,' cried Mrs. Thrale, blushing, 'it is my turn to go under the
table this morning, Miss Burney!'

'And yet,' continued the doctor, with the most comical look, 'I have
known all the wits, from Mrs. Montagu down to Bet Flint!

'Bet Flint!' cried Mrs. Thrale; 'pray who is she?'

'Oh, a fine character, madam! She was habitually a slut and a
drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot.'

'And, for Heaven's sake, how came you to know her?'

'Why, madam, she figured in the literary world, too!  Bet Flint wrote
her own life, and called herself Cassandra, and it was in verse; -- it
began:

 'When Nature first ordained my birth,
  A diminutive I was born on earth:
  And then I came from a dark abode
  Into a gay and gaudy world.'

'So Bet brought me her verses to correct; but I gave her half a crown,
and she liked it as well. Bet had a fine spirit; -- she advertised for
a husband, but she had no success, for she told me no man aspired to
her! Then she hired very handsome lodgings and a footboy; and she got
a harpsichord, but Bet could not play; however she put herself in fine
attitudes, and drummed.'

Then he gave an account of another of these geniuses, who called
herself by some fine name, I have forgotten what.

'She had not quite the same stock of virtue,' continued he, 'nor the
same stock of honesty as Bet Flint; but I suppose she envied her
accomplishments, for she was so little moved by the power of harmony,
that while Bet thought she was drumming divinely, the other jade had
her indicted for a nuisance!'

'And pray what became of her, sir?'

'Why, madam, she stole a quilt from the man of the house, and he had
her taken up, but Bet Flint had a spirit not to be subdued; so when
she found herself obliged to go to jail, she ordered a sedan-chair and
bid her footboy walk before her. However, the boy proved refractory,
for he was ashamed, though his mistress was not.

'And did she ever get out of jail again, sir?'

'Yes, madam, when she came to her trial the judge acquitted her. 'So
now,' she said to me, 'the quilt is my own, and now I'll make a
petticoat of it.' Oh, I loved Bet Mint!'

Oh, how we all laughed! Then he gave an account of another lady, who
called herself Laurinda, and who wrote verses and stole furniture; but
he had not the same affection for her, he said, though she too 'was a
lady who had high notions of honour.'

Then followed the history of another, who called herself Hortensia,
and who walked up and down the park repeating a book of Virgil.

'But,' said he, 'though I know her story, I never had the good fortune
to see her.'

After this he gave us an account of the famous Mrs. Pinkethman. And
she,' he said, 'told me she owed all her misfortunes to her wit; for
she was so unhappy as to marry a man who thought himself also a wit,
though I believe she gave him not implicit credit for it, but it
occasioned much contradiction and ill-will.'

'Bless me, sir!' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'how can all these vagabonds
contrive to get at you, of all people?'

'Oh, the dear creatures!' cried he, laughing heartily, 'I can't but be
glad to see them!'

'Why, I wonder, sir, you never went to see Mrs. Rudd among the rest?'

'Why, madam, I believe I should,' said he, 'if it was not for the
newspapers; but I am prevented many frolics that I should like very
well, since I am become such a theme for the papers.'

Now would you ever have imagined this? Bet Flint, it seems, once took
Kitty Fisher to see him, but to his no little regret he was not at
home. 'And Mrs. Williams,' he added, 'did not love Bet Mint, but Bet
Flint made herself very easy about that.'

How Mr. Crisp would have enjoyed this account! He gave it all with so
droll a solemnity, and it was all so unexpected, that Mrs. Thrale and
I were both almost equally diverted.


Streatham,August 26. --

My opportunities for writing grow less and less, and my materials more
and more. After breakfast, I have scarcely a moment that I can spare
all day.

Mrs. Thrale I like more and more. Of all the people I have ever seen
since I came into the 'gay and gaudy world,' I never before saw the
person who so strongly resembles our dear father. I find the likeness
perpetually; she has the same natural liveliness, the same general
benevolence, the same rare union of gaiety and of feeling in her
disposition. And so kind is she to me! She told me at first that I
should have all my mornings to myself, and therefore I have actually
studied to avoid her, lest I should be in her way; but since the first
morning she seeks me, sits with me, saunters with me in the park, or
compares notes over books in the library; and her conversation is
delightful; it is so entertaining, so gay, so enlivening, when she is
in spirits, and so intelligent and instructive when she is otherwise,
that I almost as much wish to record all she says as all Dr. Johnson
says.

Proceed -- no! Go back, my muse, to Thursday.

Dr. Johnson came home to dinner.

In the evening he was as lively and full of wit and sport as I have
ever seen him; and Mrs. Thrale and I had him quite to ourselves; for
Mr. Thrale came in from giving an election dinner (to which he sent
two bucks and six pine apples) so tired, that he neither opened his
eyes nor mouth, but fell fast asleep. Indeed, after tea he generally
does.

Dr. Johnson was very communicative concerning his present work of the
Lives of the Poets; Dryden is now in the press, and he told us he had
been just writing a dissertation upon Hudibras.

He gave us an account of Mrs. Lennox. Her Female Quixote is very
justly admired here. But Mrs. Thrale says that though her books are
generally approved, nobody likes her. I find she, among others, waited
on Dr. Johnson upon her commencing writer, and he told us that, at her
request, he carried her to Richardson.

'Poor Charlotte Lennox!' continued he; 'when we came to the house, she
desired me to leave her, 'for,' says she 'I am under great restraint
in your presence, but if you leave me alone with Richardson I'll give
you a very good account of him'; however, I fear poor Charlotte was
disappointed, for she gave me no account at all!'

He then told us of two little productions of our Mr. Harris, which we
read; they are very short and very clever: one is called Fashion, the
other Much Ado, and they are both of them full of a sportive humour,
that I had not suspected to belong to Mr. Harris, the learned
grammarian.

Some time after, turning suddenly to me, he said, 'Miss Burney, what
sort of reading do you delight in? History? -- travels? -- poetry? --
or romances?'

'Oh, sir!' cried I, 'I dread being catechised by you. I dare not make
any answer, for I fear whatever I should say would be wrong!'

'Whatever you should say -- how's that?'

'Why, not whatever I should -- but whatever I could say.'

He laughed, and to my great relief spared me any further questions
upon the subject. Indeed, I was very happy I had the presence of mind
to evade him as I did, for I am sure the examination which would have
followed, had I made any direct answer, would have turned out sorely
to my discredit.

'Do you remember, sir,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'how you tormented poor Miss
Brown about reading?'

'She might soon be tormented, madam,' answered he, 'for I am not yet
quite clear she knows what a book is.'

'Oh, for shame!' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'she reads not only English, but
French and Italian. She was in Italy a great while.'

'Pho!' exclaimed he; 'Italian, indeed! Do you think she knows as much
Italian as Rose Fuller does English?'

'Well, well,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'Rose Fuller is a very good young man,
for all he has not much command of language, and though he is silly
enough, yet I like him very well, for there is no manner of harm in
him.

Then she told me that he once said, 'Dr. Johnson's conversation is so
instructive that I'll ask him a question. 'Pray, sir, what is Palmyra?
I have heard of it often, but never knew what it was.' 'Palmyra, sir?'
said the doctor; 'why, it is a hill in Ireland, situated in a bog, and
has palm-trees at the top, when it is called palm-mire.'

Whether or not he swallowed this account, I know not yet.

'But Miss Brown,' continued she, 'is by no means such a simpleton as
Dr. Johnson supposes her to be; she is not very deep, indeed, but she
is a sweet, and a very ingenuous girl, and nobody admired Miss
Streatfield more. But she made a more foolish speech to Dr. Johnson
than she would have done to anybody else, because she was so
frightened and embarrassed that she knew not what she said. He asked
her some questions about reading, and she did, to be sure, make a very
silly answer; but she was so perplexed and bewildered, that she hardly
knew where she was, and so she said the beginning of a book was as
good as the end, or the end as good as the beginning, or some such
stuff; and Dr. Johnson told her of it so often, saying, 'Well, my
dear, which part of a book do you like best now?' that poor Fanny
Brown burst into tears!'

'I am sure I should have compassion for her,' cried I; 'for nobody
would be more likely to have blundered out such, or any such speech,
from fright and terror.'

'You?' cried Dr. Johnson. 'No; you are another thing; she who could
draw Smiths and Branghtons, is quite another thing.'

Mrs. Thrale then told some other stories of his degrading opinion of
us poor fair sex; I mean in general, for in particular he does them
noble justice. Among others, was a Mrs. Somebody who spent a day here
once, and of whom he asked, 'Can she read?'

'Yes, to be sure,' answered Mrs. Thrale; 'we have been reading
together this afternoon.'

'And what book did you get for her?'

'Why, what happened to lie in the way, Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty.'

'Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty! What made you , choose that?'

'Why, sir, what would you have had me take?'

'What she could have understood -- Cow-hide, or Cinderella!'

'Oh, Dr. Johnson!' cried I; ''tis not for nothing you are feared!'

'Oh, you rogue!' cried he, laughing, 'and they would fear you if they
knew you!

'That they would,' said Mrs. Thrale; 'but she's so shy they don't
suspect her. Miss P -- gave her an account of all her dress, to
entertain her, t'other night! To be sure she was very lucky to fix on
Miss Burney for such conversation! But I have been telling her she
must write a comedy; I am sure nobody could do it better. Is it not
true, Dr. Johnson?'

I would fain have stopt her, but she was not to be stopped, and ran on
saying such fine things! though we had almost a struggle together; and
she said at last:

'Well, authors may say what they will of modesty; but I believe Miss
Burney is really modest about her book, for her colour comes and goes
every time it is mentioned.'

I then escaped to look for a book which we had been talking of, and
Dr. Johnson, when I returned to my seat, said he wished Richardson had
been alive.

'And then,' he added, 'she should have been introduced to him --
though I don't know neither -- Richardson would have been afraid of
her.'

'Oh yes! that's a likely matter,' quoth I.

'It's very true,' continued he; 'Richardson would have been really
afraid of her; there is merit in Evelina which he could not have
borne. No; it would not have done! unless, indeed, she would have
flattered him prodigiously. Harry Fielding, too, would have been
afraid of her; there is nothing so delicately finished in all Harry
Fielding's works, as in Evelina!' Then shaking his head at me, he
exclaimed, 'Oh, you little character-monger, you!'

Mrs. Thrale then returned to her charge, and again urged me about a
comedy; and again I tried to silence her, and we had a fine fight
together; till she called upon Dr. Johnson to back her.

'Why, madam,' said he, laughing, 'she is writing one. What a rout is
here, indeed! she is writing one upstairs all the time. Who ever knew
when she began Evelina? She is working at some drama, depend upon it.

'True, true, O king!' thought I.

'Well, that will be a sly trick!' cried Mrs. Thrale; 'however, you
know best, I believe, about, that, as well as about every other
thing.'

Friday was a very full day. In the morning we began talking of Irene,
and Mrs. Thrale made Dr. Johnson read some passages which I had been
remarking as uncommonly applicable, and told us he had not ever read
so much of it before since it was first printed.

'Why, there is no making you read a play,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'either
of your own, or any other person. What trouble had I to make you hear
Murphy's know your own Mind! 'Read rapidly, read rapidly,' you cried,
and then took out your watch to see how long I was about it! Well, we
won't serve Miss Burney so, sir; when we have her comedy we will do it
all justice.' . . .

The day was passed most agreeably. In the evening we had, as usual, a
literary conversation. I say we, only because Mrs. Thrale will make me
take some share, by perpetually applying to me; and, indeed, there can
be no better house for rubbing up the memory, as I hardly ever read,
saw, or heard of any book that by some means or other has not been
mentioned here.

Mr. Lort produced several curious MSS. of the famous Bristol
Chatterton; among others, his will, and divers verses written against
Dr. Johnson as a placeman and pensioner; all which he read aloud, with
a steady voice and unmoved countenance.

I was astonished at him; Mrs. Thrale not much pleased; Mr. Thrale
silent and attentive; and Mr. Seward was slily laughing. Dr. Johnson
himself, listened profoundly and laughed openly. Indeed, I believe he
wishes his abusers no other than a good dinner, like Pope.

Just as we had got our biscuits and toast-and-water, which make the
Streatham supper, and which, indeed, is all there is any chance of
eating after our late and great dinners, Mr. Lort suddenly said,

'Pray, ma'am, have you heard anything of a novel that runs about a
good deal, called Evelina?'

What a ferment did this question, before such a set, put me in!

I did not know whether he spoke to me, or Mrs. Thrale; and Mrs. Thrale
was in the same doubt, and as she owned, felt herself in a little
palpitation for me, not knowing what might come next. Between us both,
therefore, he had no answer,

'It has been recommended to me,' continued he;, 'but I have no great
desire to see it, because it has such a foolish name. Yet I have heard
a great deal of it, too.'

He then repeated Evelina -- in a very languishing and ridiculous tone.

My heart beat so quick against my stays that I almost panted with
extreme agitation, from the dread either of hearing some horrible
criticism, or of being betrayed; and I munched my biscuit as if I had
not eaten for a fortnight.

I believe the whole party were in some little consternation; Dr.
Johnson began see-sawing; Mr. Thrale awoke; Mr. E -- . I who I fear
has picked up some notion of the affair from being so much in the
house, grinned amazingly; and Mr. Seward, biting his nails and
flinging himself back in his chair, I am sure had wickedness enough to
enjoy the whole scene.

Mrs. Thrale was really a little fluttered, but without looking at me,
said,

'And pray what, Mr. Lort, what have you heard of it?'

Now, had Mrs. Thrale not been flurried, this was the last question she
should have ventured to ask before me. Only suppose what I must feel
when I heard it.

'Why, they say,' answered he, 'that it's an account of a young lady's
first entrance into company, and of the scrapes she gets into; and
they say there's a great deal of character in it, but I have not cared
to look in it, because the name is so foolish -- Evelina!'

'Why foolish, sir?' cried Dr. Johnson. 'Where's the folly of it?'

'Why, I won't say much for the name myself,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'to
those who don't know the reason of it, which I found out, but which
nobody else seems to know.'

She then explained the name from Evelyn, according to my own meaning.

'Well,' said Dr. Johnson, 'if that was the reason, it is a very good
one.'

'Why, have you had the book here?' cried Mr. Lort, staring.

'Ay, indeed, have we,' said Mrs. Thrale; 'I read it when I was last
confined, and I laughed over it, and I cried over it!'

'Oh, ho!' said Mr. Lort, 'this is another thing! If you have had it
here, I will certainly read it.'

'Had it? ay,' returned she; 'and Dr. Johnson, who would not look at it
at first, was so caught by it when I put it in the coach with him that
he has sung its praises ever since, -- and he says Richardson would
have been proud to have written it.'

Oh, ho! this is a good hearing!' cried Mr. Lort; 'if Dr. Johnson can
read it, I shall get it with all speed.'

'You need not go far for it,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'for it's now upon
yonder table.'

I could sit still no longer; there was something so awkward, so
uncommon, so strange in my then situation, that I wished myself a
hundred miles off; and, indeed, I had almost choked myself with the
biscuit, for I could not for my life swallow it; and so I got up, and,
as Mr. Lort went to the table to look at Evelina, I left the room, and
was forced to call for water to wash down the biscuit, which literally
stuck in my throat.. . .

Dr. Johnson was later than usual this morning, and did not come down
till our breakfast was over, and Mrs. Thrale had risen to give some
orders, I believe: I, too, rose, and took a book at another end of the
room. Some time after, before he had yet appeared, Mr. Thrale called
out to me,

So, Miss Burney, you have a mind to feel your legs before the doctor
comes?'

'Why so?' cried Mr. Lort.

'Why, because when he comes she will be confined.'

'Ay? -- how is that?'

'Why, he never lets her leave him, but keeps her prisoner till he goes
to his own room.'

'Oh, ho!' cried Mr. Lort, 'she is in great favour with him.'

'Yes,' said Mr. Seward, 'and I think he shows his taste.'

'I did not know,' said Mr. Lort, 'but he might keep her to help him in
his Lives of the Poets, if she's so clever.'

And yet,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'Miss Burney never flatters him, though
she is such a favourite with him; -- but the tables are turned, for he
sits and flatters her an day long.

'I don't flatter him,' said I, 'because nothing I could say would
flatter him.'

Mrs. Thrale then told a story of Hannah More, which I think exceeds,
in its severity, all the severe things I have yet heard of Dr.
Johnson's saying.

When she was introduced to him, not long ago, she began singing his
praise in the warmest manner, and talking of the pleasure and the
instruction she had received from his writings, with the highest
encomiums. For some time he heard her with that quietness which a long
use of praise has given him: she then redoubled her strokes, and, as
Mr. Seward calls it, peppered still more highly: till, at length, he
turned suddenly to her, with a stern and angry countenance, and said,
'Madam, before you flatter a man so grossly to his face, you should
consider whether or not your flattery is worth his having.'

Mr. Seward then told another instance of his determination not to
mince the matter, when he thought reproof at all deserved. During a
visit of Miss Brown's to Streatham, he was inquiring of her several
things that she could not answer; and as he held her so cheap in
regard to books, he began to question her concerning domestic affairs
-- puddings, pies, plain work, and so forth. Miss Brown, not at all
more able to give a good account of herself in these articles than in
the others, began all her answers with, 'Why, sir, one need not be
obliged to do so, -- or so,' whatever was the thing in question. When
he had finished his interrogatories, and she had finished her 'need
nots he ended the discourse with saying, 'As to your needs, my dear,
they are so very many, that you would be frightened yourself if you
knew half of them.'

After breakfast on Friday, or yesterday, a curious trait occurred of
Dr. Johnson's jocosity. It was while the talk ran so copiously upon
their urgency that I should produce a comedy. While Mrs. Thrale was in
the midst of her flattering persuasions, the doctor, see-sawing in his
chair, began laughing to himself so heartily as to almost shake his
seat as well as his sides. We stopped our confabulation, in which he
had ceased to join, hoping he would reveal the subject of his mirth;
but he enjoyed it inwardly, without heeding our curiosity, -- till at
last he said he had been struck with a notion that 'Miss Burney would
begin her dramatic career by writing a piece called Streatham.'

He paused, and laughed yet more cordially, and then suddenly commanded
a pomposity to his countenance and his voice, and added, 'Yes!
Streatham -- a Farce.

How little did I expect from this Lexiphanes, this great and dreaded
lord of English literature, a turn for burlesque humour!


Streatham,September. --

Our journey hither proved, as it promised, most sociably cheerful, and
Mrs. Thrale opened still further upon the subject she began in St.
Martin's Street, of Dr. Johnson's kindness towards me. To be sure she
saw it was not totally disagreeable to me; though I was really
astounded when she hinted at my becoming a rival to Miss Streatfield 2
in the doctor's good graces.

'I had a long letter,' she said, 'from Sophy Streatfield t'other day,
and she sent Dr. Johnson her elegant edition of the Classics; but when
he had read the letter he said, 'She is a sweet creature, and I love
her much; but my little Burney writes a better letter.' 'Now,'
continued she, 'that is just what I wished him to say of you both.

Before dinner, to my great joy, Dr. Johnson returned home from Warley
Common. I followed

Mrs. Thrale into the library to see him, and he is so

near-sighted that he took me for Miss Streatfield.:

bu he did not welcome me less kindly when he found

his mistake, which Mrs. Thrale made known by saying, 'No, 'tis Miss
Streatfield's rival, Miss

Burney.'

At tea-time the subject turned upon the domestic economy of Dr.
Johnson's own household. Mrs.

Thrale has often acquainted me that his house is quite filled and
overrun with all sorts of strange creatures, whom he admits for mere
charity, and because nobody else will admit them -- for his charity is
unbounded -- or, rather, bounded only by his circumstances.

The account he gave of the adventures and absurdities of the set was
highly diverting, but too diffused for writing, though one or two
speeches I must give. I think I shall occasionally theatricalise my
dialogues.

Mrs. Thrale. -- Pray, sir, how does Mrs. Williams like all this tribe?

Dr. Johnson. -- Madam, she does not like them at all; but their
fondness for her is not greater. She and De Mullin quarrel
incessantly; but as they can both be occasionally of service to each
other, and as neither of them have any other place to go to, their
animosity does not force them to separate.

Mrs. T. -- And pray, sir, what is Mr. Macbean?

Dr. J. -- Madam, he is a Scotchman; he is a man of great learning, and
for his learning I respect him, and I wish to serve him. He knows many
languages, and knows them well; but he knows nothing of life. I
advised him to write a geographical dictionary; but I have lost all
hopes of his ever doing anything properly, since I found he gave as
much labour to Capua as to Rome.

Mr. T. -- And pray who is clerk of your kitchen, sir?

Dr. J. -- Why, sir, I am afraid there is none; a general anarchy
prevails in my kitchen, as I am told by Mr. Levat, who says it is not
now what it used to be!

Mrs. T. -- Mr. Levat, I suppose, sir, has the office of keeping the
hospital in health? for he is an apothecary.

Dr. J. -- Levat, madam, is a brutal fellow, but I have a good regard
for him; for his brutality is in his manners, not his mind.

Mr. T. -- But how do you get your dinners drest?

Dr. J. -- Why, De Mullin has the chief management of the kitchen; but
our roasting is not magnificent, for we have no jack.

Mr. T. -- No jack? Why, how do they manage without?

Dr. J. -- Small joints, I believe, they manage with a string, and a
larger are done at the tavern. I have some thoughts (with a profound
gravity) of buying a jack, because I think a jack is some credit to a
house.

Mr. T. -- Well, but you'll have a spit, too?

Dr. J. -- No, sir, no; that would be superfluous; for we shall never
use it; and if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed!

Mrs. T. -- But pray, sir, who is the Poll you talk of? She that you
used to abet in her quarrels with Mrs. Williams, and call out, 'At her
again, Poll! Never flinch, Poll'?

Dr. J. -- Why, I took to Poll very well at first, but she won't do
upon a nearer examination.

Mrs. T. -- How came she among you, sir?

Dr. J. -- Why, I don't rightly remember, but we could spare her very
well from us. Poll is a stupid slut; I had some hopes of her at first;
but, when I talked to her tightly and closely, I could make nothing of
her; she was wiggle-waggle, and I could never persuade her to be
categorical. I wish Miss Burney would come among us; if she would only
give us a week, we should furnish her with ample materials for a new
scene in her next work.

A little while after he asked Mrs. Thrale, who had read Evelina in his
absence?

'Who?' cried she, -- 'why, Burke! -- Burke sat up all night to finish
it; and Sir Joshua Reynolds is mad about it, and said he would give
fifty pounds to know the author. But our fun was with his nieces -- we
made them believe I wrote the book, and the girls gave me the credit
of it at once.'

'I am very sorry for it, madam,' cried he, quite angrily, -- 'you were
much to blame; deceits of that kind ought never to be practised; they
have a worse tendency than you are aware of.'

Mr. T. -- Why, don't frighten yourself, sir; Miss Burney will have all
the credit she has a right to, for I told them whose it was before
they went.

Dr. J. -- But you were very wrong for misleading them for a moment;
such jests are extremely blameable; they are foolish in the very act,
and they are wrong, because they always leave a doubt upon the mind.
What first passed will be always recollected by those girls, and they
will never feel clearly convinced which wrote the book, Mrs. Thrale or
Miss Burney.

Mrs. T. -- Well, well, I am ready to take my Bible oath it was not me;
and if that won't do, Miss Burney must take hers too.

I was then looking over the Life of Cowley which he had himself given
me to read, at the same time that he gave to Mrs. Thrale that of
Waller. They are now printed, though they will not be published for
some time. But he bade me put it away.

 'Do,'cried he, 'put away that now, and prattle with us; I can't make
this little Burney prattle, and I am sure she prattles well; but I
shall teach her another lesson than to sit thus silent before I have
done with her.'

'To talk,' cried I, 'is the only lesson I shall be backward to learn
from you, sir.'

'You shall give me,' cried he, 'a discourse upon the passions: come,
begin! Tell us the necessity of regulating them, watching over and
curbing them I Did you ever read Norris's Theory of Love?'

'No, sir,' said I, laughing, yet staring a little.

Dr. J. -- Well, it is worth your reading. He will make you see that
inordinate love is the root of all evil: inordinate love of wealth
brings on avarice; of wine, brings on intemperance; of power, brings
on cruelty; and so on. He deduces from inordinate love all human
frailty.

Mrs. T. -- To-morrow, sir, Mrs. Montagu dines here, and then you will
have talk enough.

Dr. Johnson began to see-saw, with a countenance strongly expressive
of inward fun, and after enjoying it some time in silence, he suddenly
and with great animation turned to me and cried,

'Down with her, Burney! -- down with her! -- spare her not! attack
her, fight her, and down with her at once! You are a rising wit, and
she is at the top;, and when I was beginning the world, and was
nothing and nobody, the joy of my life was to fire at all the
established wits; and then everybody loved to halloo me on. But there
is no game now; everybody would be glad to see me conquered; but then,
when I was new, to vanquish the great ones was all the delight of my
poor little dear soul! So at her, Burney, -- at her, and down with
her!'

Oh, how we were all amused! By the way I must tell you that Mrs.
Montagu is in very great estimation here, even with Dr. Johnson
himself, when others do not praise her improperly. Mrs. Thrale ranks
her as the first of women in the literary way. I should have told you
that Miss Gregory, daughter of the Gregory who wrote the Letters, or
Legacy of Advice, lives with Mrs. Montagu, and was invited to
accompany her.

Mark now,' said Dr. Johnson, 'if I contradict her to-morrow. I am
determined, let her say what she will, that I will not contradict
her.'

Mrs. T. -- Why, to be sure, sir, you did put her a little out of
countenance last time she came. Yet you were neither rough, nor cruel,
nor ill-natured; but still, when a lady changes colour, we imagine her
feelings are not quite composed.

Dr. J. -- Why, madam, I won't answer that I shan't contradict her
again, if she provokes me as she did then; but a less provocation I
will withstand. I believe I am not high in her good graces already;
and I begin (added he, laughing heartily) to tremble for my admission
into her new house. I doubt I shall never see the inside of it.

(Mrs. Montagu is building a most superb house.)

Mrs. T. -- Oh, I warrant you, she fears you, indeed;, but that, you
know, is nothing uncommon; and dearly I love to hear your
disquisitions; for certainly she is the first woman for literary
knowledge in England, and if in England, I hope I may say in the
world.

Dr. J. -- I believe you may, madam. She diffuses more knowledge in her
conversation than any woman I know, or, indeed, almost any man.

Mrs.T. -- I declare I know no man equal to her, take away yourself and
Burke, for that art. And you who love magnificence, won't quarrel with
her, as everybody else does, for her love of finery.

Dr. J. -- No, I shall not quarrel with her upon that topic. (Then,
looking earnestly at me), 'Nay,' he added, 'it's very handsome!'

'What, sir?' cried!, amazed.

'Why, your cap: -- I have looked at it some time, and I like it much.
It has not that vile bandeau across it, which I have so often cursed.'

Did you ever hear anything so strange? nothing escapes him. My Daddy
Crisp is not more minute in his attentions: nay, I think he is even
less so.

Mrs. T. -- Well, sir, that bandeau you quarrelled with was worn by
every woman at court the last birthday, and I observed that all the
men found fault with it.

Dr. J. -- The truth is, women, take them in general, have no idea of
grace. Fashion is all they think of. I don't mean Mrs. Thrale and Miss
Burney, when I talk of women! -- They are goddesses! and therefore I
accept them.

Mrs. T. -- Lady Ladd never wore the bandeau, and said she never would,
because it is unbecoming.

Dr. J. -- (laughing) Did not she? Then is Lady Ladd a charming woman,
and I have yet hopes of entering into engagements with her!

Mrs. T. -- Well, as to that I can't say; but to be sure, the only
similitude I have yet discovered in you, is in size; there you agree
mighty well.

Dr. J. Why, if anybody could have worn the bandeau, it must have been
Lady Ladd; for there is enough of her to carry it off; but you are too
little for anything ridiculous; that which seems nothing upon a
Patagonian, will become very conspicuous upon a Lilliputian, and of
you there is so little in all, that one single absurdity would swallow
up half of you.

Some time after, when we had all been a few minutes wholly silent, he
turned to me and said,

'Come, Burney, shall you and I study our parts against Mrs. Montagu
comes?

'Miss Burney,' cried Mr. Thrale, 'you must get up your courage for
this encounter! I think you should begin with Miss Gregory; and down
with her first.'

Dr. J. -- No, no, always fly at the eagle! down with Mrs. Montagu
herself! I hope she will come full of Evelina!


Wednesday. --

At breakfast, Dr. Johnson asked me, if I had been reading his Life of
Cowley?

'Oh yes,' said I.

'And what do you think of it.

'I am delighted with it,' cried I; 'and if I was somebody, I should
not have read it without telling you sooner what I think of it, and
unasked.'

Again, when I took up Cowley's Life, he made me put it away to talk. I
could not help remarking how very like Dr. Johnson is to his writing;
and how much the same thing it was to hear or to read him;, but that
nobody could tell that without coming to Streatham, for his language
was generally imagined to be laboured and studied, instead of the mere
common flow of his thoughts.

'Very true,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'he writes and talks with the same
ease, and in the same manner; but, sir (to him), if this rogue is like
her book, how will she trim all of us by and by! Now, she dainties us
up with all the meekness in the world; but when we are away, I suppose
she pays us off finely.'

'My paying off,' cried I, 'is like the Latin of Hudibras,   ''. . .
who never scanted,
 His learning unto such as wanted;'
for I can figure like anything when I am with those who can't figure
at all.'

Mrs. T. -- Oh, if you have any mag in you, we'll draw it out!

Dr. J. -- A rogue! she told me that if she was somebody instead of
nobody, she would praise my book!

F. B. -- Why, sir, I am sure you would scoff my praise.

Dr. J. -- If you think that, you think very ill of me; but you don't
think it.

Mrs. T. -- We have told her what you said to Miss More, and I believe
that makes her afraid.

Dr. Johnson. -- Well, and if she was to serve me as Miss More did, I
should say the same thing of her. But I think she will not. Hannah
More has very good intellects, too; but she has by no means the
elegance of Miss Burney.

'Well,' cried I, 'there are folks that are to be spoilt, and folks
that are not to be spoilt, as well in the world as in the nursery; but
what will become of me, I know not.'

Mrs. T. -- Well, if you are spoilt, we can only say, nothing in the
world is so pleasant as being spoilt.

Dr. J. -- No, no; Burney will not be spoilt; she knows too well what
praise she has a claim to, and what not, to be in any danger of
spoiling.

F. B. -- I do, indeed, believe I shall never be spoilt at Streatham,
for it is the last place where I can feel of any consequence.

Mrs. T. -- Well, sir, she is our Miss Burney, however; we were the
first to catch her, and now we have got, we will keep her And so she
is all our own.

Dr. J. -- Yes, I hope she is; I should be very sorry to lose Miss
Burney.

F. B. -- Oh, dear! how can two such people sit and talk such --

Mrs. T. -- Such stuff, you think? but Dr. Johnson's love --

Dr. J. -- Love ? no, I don't entirely love her yet; I must see more of
her first; I have much too high an opinion of her to flatter her. I
have, indeed, seen nothing of her but what is fit to be loved, but I
must know her more. I admire her, and greatly too.

F. B. -- Well, this is a very new style to me! I have long enough had
reason to think myself loved, but admiration is perfectly new to me.

Dr. J. -- I admire her for her observation, for her good sense, for
her humour, for her discernment, for her manner of expressing them,
and for all her writing talents.

I quite sigh beneath the weight of such praise from such persons --
sigh with mixed gratitude for the present, and fear for the future;
for I think I shall never, never be able to support myself long so
well with them.

We could not prevail with him to stay till Mrs. Montagu arrived. . . .

When dinner was upon table, I followed the procession, in a tragedy
step, as Mr. Thrale will have it, into the dining-parlour. Dr. Johnson
was returned.

The conversation was not brilliant, nor do I remember much of it; but
Mrs. Montagu behaved to me just as I could have wished, since she
spoke to me very little, but spoke that little with the utmost
politeness. But Miss Gregory, though herself a very modest girl, quite
stared me out of countenance, and never took her eyes off my face.

When Mrs. Montagu's new house was talked of, Dr. Johnson, in a jocose
manner, desired to know if he should be invited to see it.

'Ay, sure,' cried Mrs. Montague, looking well pleased; 'or else I
shan't like it: but I invite you all to a house warming; I shall hope
for the honour of seeing all this company at my new house next Easter
day: I fix the day now that it may be remembered.'

Everybody bowed and accepted the invite but me, and I thought fitting
not to hear it; for I have no notion of snapeing at invites from the
eminent. But Dr. Johnson, who sat next to me, was determined I should
be of the party, for he suddenly clapped his hand on my shoulder, and
called out aloud,

'Little Burney, you and I will go together!'

'Yes, surely,' cried Mrs. Montagu, 'I shall hope for the pleasure of
seeing 'Evelina.''

'Evelina?' repeated he; 'has Mrs. Montagu then found out Evelina?

'Yes,' cried she, 'and I am proud of it; I am proud that a work so
commended should be a woman's.'

Oh, how my face burnt!

'Has Mrs. Montagu,' asked Dr. Johnson, 'read Evelina?'

'No, sir, not yet; but I shall immediately, for I feel the greatest
eagerness to read it.'

,'I am very sorry, madam,' replied he, 'that you have not read it
already, because you cannot speak of it with a full conviction of its
merits: which, I believe, when you have read it, you will find great
pleasure in acknowledging.'

Some other things were said, but I remember them not, for I could
hardly keep my place: but my sweet, naughty Mrs. Thrale looked
delighted for me.

I made tea as usual, and Mrs. Montagu and Miss Gregory seated
themselves on each side of me.

'I can see,' said the former, 'that Miss Burney is very like her
father, and that is a good thing, for everybody would wish to be like
Dr. Burney. Pray, when you see him, give my best respects to him; I am
afraid he thinks me a thief with his Linguet; but I assure you I am a
very honest woman, and I spent full three hours in looking for it.'

'I am sure,' cried Mrs. Thrale, 'Dr. Burney would much rather you
should have employed that time about the other book.'

They went away very early, because Mrs. Montagu is a great coward in a
carriage. She repeated her invitation as she left the room. So now
that I am invited to Mrs. Montagu's, I think the measure of my glory
full!

When they were gone, how did Dr. Johnson astonish me by asking if I
had observed what an ugly cap Miss Gregory had on? And then taking
both my hands, and looking at me with an expression of much kindness,
he said,

'Well, Miss Burney, Mrs. Montagu now will read Evelina.'

To read it he seems to think is all that is wanted, and, far as I am
from being of the same opinion, I dare not to him make disqualifying
speeches, because it might seem impertinent to suppose her more
diffcult to please than himself.

'You are very kind, sir,' cried!, 'to speak of it with so much favour
and indulgence at dinner; yet I hardly knew how to sit it then, though
I shall be always proud to remember it hereafter.'

'Why, it is true,' said he, kindly, 'that such things are disagreeable
to sit, nor do I wonder you were distressed; yet sometimes they are
necessary.'

Was this not very kind? I am sure he meant that the sanction of his
good opinion, so publicly given to Mrs. Montagu, would in a manner
stamp the success of my book; and though, had I been allowed to
preserve the snugness I had planned, I need not have concerned myself
at all about its fate, yet now that I find myself exposed with it, I
cannot but wish it insured from disgrace.

'Well, sir,' cried I, 'I don't think I shall mind Mrs. Montagu herself
now; after what you have said, I believe I should not mind even abuse
from any one.'

'No, no, never mind them!' cried he; 'resolve not to mind them: they
can do you no serious hurt.

Mrs. Thrale then told me such civil things. Mrs. Montagu, it seems,
during my retreat, inquired very particularly what kind of book it
was?

'And I told her,' continued Mrs. Thrale, 'that it was a picture of
life, manners, and characters.

But won't she go on?' says she; surely she won t stop here?'

''Why,' said! 'I want her to go on a new path -- I want her to write a
comedy.

''But,' said Mrs. Montagu, 'one thing must be considered; Fielding,
who was so admirable in novel-writing, never succeeded when he wrote
for the stage.''

'Very well said,' cried Dr. Johnson; 'that was an answer which showed
she considered her subject.'


Monday, September 21. --

I am more comfortable here than ever; Dr. Johnson honours me with
increasing kindness; Mr. Thrale is much more easy and sociable than
when I was here before; I am quite jocose, whenever I please, with
Miss Thrale; and the charming head and life of the house, her mother,
stands the test of the closest examination, as well and as much to her
honour as she does a mere cursory view. She is, indeed, all that is
excellent and desirable in woman.

I have had a thousand delightful conversations with Dr. Johnson, who,
whether he loves me or not, I am sure seems to have some opinion of my
discretion, for he speaks of all this house to me with unbounded
confidence, neither diminishing faults, nor exaggerating praise.
Whenever he is below stairs he keeps me a prisoner, for he does not
like I should quit the room a moment; if I rise he constandy calls
out, 'Don't you go, little Burney!'

Last night, when we were talking of compliments and gross speeches,
Mrs. Thrale most justly said that nobody could make either like Dr.
Johnson. 'Your compliments, sir, are made seldom, but when they are
made they have an elegance unequalled; but then when you are angry,
who dares make speeches so bitter and so cruel?'

Dr. J. -- Madam, I am always sorry when I make bitter speeches, and I
never do it but when I am insufferably vexed.

Mrs. T. -- Yes, sir; but you suffer things to vex you, that nobody
else would vex at. I am sure I have had my share of scolding from you
I

Dr. J. -- It is true, you have; but you have borne it like an angel,
and you have been the better for it.

Mrs. T. -- That I believe, sir: for I have received more instruction
from you than from any man, or any book; and the vanity that you
should think me worth instruction, always overcame the vanity of being
found fault with. And you had the scolding and I the improvement.

F. B. -- And I am sure both make for the honour of both.

Dr. J. -- I think so too. But MM. Thrale is a sweet creature, and
never angry; she has a temper the most delightful of any woman I ever
knew.

Mrs. T. -- This I can tell you, sir, and without any flattery -- I not
only bear your reproofs when present, but in almost everything I do in
your absence, I ask myself whether you would like it, and what you
would say to it. Yet I believe there is nobody you dispute with
oftener than me.

F. B. -- But you two are so well established with one another, that
you can bear a rebuff that would kill a stranger.

Dr. J. -- Yes; but we disputed the same before we were so well
established with one another.

Mrs. T. -- Oh, sometimes I think I shall die no other death than
hearing the bitter things he says to others. What he says to myself I
can bear, because I know how sincerely he is my friend, and that he
means to mend me; but to others it is cruel.

Dr. J. -- Why, madam, you often provoke me to say severe things, by
unreasonable commendation. If you would not call for my praise, I
would not give you my censure; but it constantly moves my indignation
to be applied to, to speak well of a thing which I think contemptible.

F. B. -- Well, this I know, whoever I may hear complain of Dr.
Johnson's severity, I shall always vouch for his kindness, as far as
regards myself, and his indulgence.

Mrs. T. -- Ay, but I hope he will trim you yet, too!

Dr. J. -- I hope not: I should be very sorry to say anything that
should vex my dear little Burney.

F. B. -- If you did, sir, it would vex me more than you can imagine. I
should sink in a minute.

Mrs. T. -- I remember, sir, when we were travelling in Wales, how you
called me to account for my civility to the people; 'Madam,' you said,
'let me have no more of this idle commendation of nothing. Why is it,
that whatever you see, and whoever you see, you are to be so
indiscriminately lavish of praise?' 'Why, I'll tell you, sir,' said I,
'when I am with you, and Mr. Thrale, and Queeny, I am obliged to be
civil for four!'

There was a cutter for you! But this I must say, for the honour of
both -- Mrs. Thrale speaks to Dr. Johnson with as much sincerity
(though with greater softness), as he does to her.


Streatham,September 26. --

I have, from want of time, neglected my journal so long, that I cannot
now pretend to go on methodically, and be particular as to dates.

Messrs. Stephen and Rose Fuller stayed very late on Monday; the former
talking very rationally upon various subjects, and the latter boring
us with his systems and 'those sort of things.' Yet he is something of
a favourite, 'in that sort of way,' at this house, because of his
invincible good humour, and Mrs. Thrale says she would not change him
as a neighbour for a much wiser man. Dr. Johnson says he would make a
very good Mr. Smith: 'Let him but,' he adds, 'pass a month or two in
Holborn, and I would desire no better.'

The other evening the conversation fell upon Romney, the painter, who
has lately got into great business, and who was first recommended and
patronized by Mr. Cumberland.

'See, madam,' said Dr. Johnson, laughing, 'what it is to have the
favour of a literary man! I think I have had no hero a great while;
Dr. Goldsmith was my last; but I have had none since his time till my
little Burney came!'

'Ay, sir,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'Miss Burney is the heroine now; is it
not really true, sir?'

I o be sure it is, my dear!' answered he, with a gravity that made not
only me, but Mr. Thrale laugh heartily.

Another time, Mr. Thrale said he had seen Dr. Jebb, 'and he told me he
was afraid Miss Burney would have gone into a consumption,' said he;
'but I informed him how well you are, and he committed you to my care;
so I shall insist now upon being sole judge of what wine you drink.'

(N.B. He had often disputed this point.)

Dr. J. -- Why, did Dr. Jebb forbid her wine?

F. B. -- Yes, sir.

Dr. J. -- Well, he was in the right; he knows how apt wits are to
transgress that way. He was certainly right! nally. But the present
chief sport with Mrs. Thrale is disposing of me in the holy state of
matrimony, and she offers me whoever comes to the house. This was
begun by Mrs. Montagu, who, it seems, proposed a match for me in my
absence, with Sir Joshua Reynolds! -- no less a man, I assure you!

When I was dressing for dinner, Mrs. Thrale told me that Mr. Crutchley
was expected.

'Who's he?' quoth I.

'A young man of very large fortune, who was a ward of Mr. Thrale.
Queeny, what do you say of him for Miss Burney?'

'Him?' cried she; 'no, indeed; what has Miss Burney done to have him?

'Nay, believe me, a man of his fortune may offer himself anywhere.
However, I won't recommend him.

'Why then, ma'am,' cried I, with dignity, 'I reject him!'

This Mr. Crutchley stayed till after breakfast the next morning. I
can't tell you anything of him, because I neither like nor dislike
him.

Mr. Crutchley was scarce gone, ere Mr. Smith arrived. Mr. Smith is a
second cousin of Mr. Thrale, and a modest pretty sort of young man.

He stayed till Friday morning. When he was gone,

'What say you to him, Miss Burney?' cried Mrs. Thrale -- I am sure I
offer you variety.

'Why, I like him better than Mr. Crutchley, but I don't think I shall
pine for either of them.

'Dr. Johnson,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'don't you think Jerry Crutchley very
much improved?'

Dr. J. -- Yes, madam, I think he is.

Mrs. T. -- Shall he have Miss Burney?

Dr. J. -- Why, I think not; at least I must know more of him; I must
inquire into his connections, his recreations, his employments, and
his character, from his intimates, before I trust Miss Burney with
him. And he must come down very handsomely with a settlement. I will
not have him left to his generosity; for as he will marry her for her
wit, and she him for his fortune, he ought to bid well; and let him
come down with what he will, his price will never be equal to her
worth.

Mrs. T. -- She says she likes Mr. Smith better.

Dr. J. -- Yes, but I won't have her like Mr. Smith without the money,
better than Mr Crutchley with it. Besides, if she has Crutchley, he
will use her well, to vindicate his choice. The world, madam, has a
reasonable claim upon all mankind to account for their conduct;
therefore, if with his great wealth he marries a woman who has but
little, he will be more attentive to display her merit than if she was
equally rich, -- in order to show that the woman he has chosen
de-serves from the world all the respect and admiration it can bestow,
or that else she would not have been his choice.

Mrs. T. -- I believe young Smith is the better man.

F. B. -- Well, I won't be rash in thinking of either; I will take some
time for consideration before I fix.

Dr. J. -- Why, I don't hold it to be delicate to offer marriage to
ladies, even in jest, nor do I approve such sort of jocularity; yet
for once I must break through the rules of decorum, and propose a
match myself for Miss Burney. I therefore nominate Sir J -- L -- .

Mrs. T. -- I'll give you my word, sir, you are not the first to say
that, for my master, the other morning, when we were alone, said,
'What would I give that Sir J -- L -- was married to Miss Burney; it
might restore him to our family.' So spoke his uncle and guardian.

F. B. -- He, he! Ha, ha! He, he! Ha, ha!

Dr. J. -- That was elegantly said of my master, and nobly said, and
not in the vulgar way we have been saying it. And where, madam, will
you find another man in trade, who will make such a speech -- who will
be capable of making such a speech ? Well, I am glad my master takes
so to Miss Burney; I would have everybody take to Miss Burney, so as
they allow me to take to her most! Yet I don't know whether Sir J -- L
-- should have her, neither. I should be afraid for her; I don't think
I would hand her to him.

F. B. -- Why, now, what a fine match is here broken off!

Some time after, when we were in the library, he asked me very gravely
if I loved reading?

'Yes,' quoth I,

Why do you doubt it, sir?' cried Mrs. Thrale.

'Because,' answered he, 'I never see her with a book in her hand. I
have taken notice that she never has been reading whenever I have come
into the room.',

'Sir,' quoth I courageously, 'I am always afraid of being caught
reading, lest I should pass for being studious or affected, and
therefore instead of making a display of books, I always try to hide
them, as is the case at this very time, for I have now your Life of
Waller under my gloves behind me. However, since I am piqued to it,
I'll boldly produce my voucher.'

And so saying, I put the book on the table, and opened it with a
flourishing air. And then the laugh was on my side, for he could not
help making a droll face; and if he had known Kitty Cooke, I would
have called out, 'There I had you, my lad!'

'And now,' quoth Mrs. Thrale, 'you must be more careful than ever of
not being thought bookish, for now you are known for a wit and a bel
esprit, you will be watched, and if you are not upon your guard, all
the misses will rise up against you.'

Dr. J. -- Nay, nay, now it is too late. You may read as much as you
will now, for you are in for it, -- you are dipped over head and ears
in the Castalian stream, and so I hope you will be invulnerable.

Another time, when we were talking of the licentiousness of the
newspapers, Dr. Johnson said,

'I wonder they have never yet had a touch at little Burney.'

'Oh, Heaven forbid!' cried I: 'I am sure if they did, I believe I
should try the depth of Mr. Thrale's spring-pond.'

'No, no, my dear, no,' cried he kindly, 'you must resolve not to mind
them; you must set yourself against them, and not let any such
nonsense affect you.'

'There is nobody,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'tempers the satirist with so
much meekness as Miss Burney.'

Satirist, indeed! is it not a satire upon words, to call me so?

'I hope to Heaven I shall never be tried,' cried l, 'for I am sure I
should never bear it. Of my book they may say what they will and
welcome, but if they touch at me -- I shall be -- '

'Nay,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'if you are not afraid for the book, I am
sure they can say no harm of the author.'

'Never let them know,' said Dr. Johnson, 'which way you shall most
mind them, and then they will stick to the book; but you must never
acknowledge how tender you are for the author.'

Monday was the day for our great party; and the doctor came home, at
Mrs. Thrale's request, to meet them. . . .

Lady Ladd; I ought to have begun with her. I beg her ladyship a
thousand pardons -- though if she knew my offence, I am sure I should
not obtain one. She is own sister to Mr. Thrale. She is a tall and
stout woman, has an air mingled with dignity and haughtiness, both of
which wear off in conversation. She dresses very youthfully and gaily,
and attends to her person with no little complacency. She appears to
me uncultivated in knowledge, though an adept in the manners of the
world, and all that. She chooses to be much more lively than her
brother; but liveliness sits as awkwardly upon her as her pink
ribbons. In talking her over with Mrs. Thrale, who has a very proper
regard for her, but who, I am sure, cannot be blind to her faults, she
gave me another proof to those I have already had, of the uncontrolled
freedom of speech which Dr. Johnson exercises to everybody, and which
everybody receives quietly from him. Lady Ladd has been very handsome,
but is now, I think, quite ugly -- at least she has a sort of face I
like not. Well, she was a little while ago dressed in so showy a
manner as to attract the doctor's notice, and when he had looked at
her some time he broke out aloud into this quotation:  'With patches,
paint, and jewels on,
 Sure Phillis is not twenty-one!
 But if at night you Phillis see,
 The dame at least is forty-three!'
I don't recollect the verses exactly, but such was their purport.

'However,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'Lady Ladd took it very good-naturedly,
and only said,

''I know enough of that forty-three -- I don't desire to hear any more
about it!'' . . .

In the evening the company divided pretty much into parties, and
almost everybody walked upon the gravel-walk before the windows. I was
going to have joined some of them, when Dr. Johnson stopped me, and
asked how I did.

'I was afraid, sir,' cried I, 'you did not intend to know me again,
for you have not spoken to me before since your return from town.'

'My dear,' cried he, taking both my hands, 'I was not sure of you, I
am so near-sighted, and I apprehended making some mistake.

Then drawing me very unexpectedly towards him, he actually kissed me!

To be sure, I was a little surprised, having no idea of such
facetiousness from him. However, I was glad nobody was in the room but
Mrs. Thrale, who stood close to us, and Mr. Embry, who was lounging on
a sofa at the farthest end of the room, Mrs. Thrale laughed heartily,
and said she hoped I was contented with his amends for not knowing me
sooner.

A little after she said she would go and walk with the rest if she did
not fear for my reputation in being left with the doctor.

'However, as Mr. Embry is yonder, I think he'll take some care of you,
she added.

'Ay, madam,' said the doctor, 'we shall do very well; but I assure you
I shan't part with Miss Burney!'

And he held me by both hands; and when Mrs. Thrale went, he drew me a
chair himself facing the window, close to his own; and thus
tete-a-tete we continued almost all the evening. I say tete-a-tete,
because Mr. Embry kept at an humble distance, and offered us no
interruption. And though Mr. Seward soon after came in, he also seated
himself in a distant corner, not presuming, he said, to break in upon
us! Everybody, he added, gave way to the doctor.

Our conversation chiefly was upon the Hebrides, for he always talks to
me of Scotland, out of sport;, and he wished I had been of that tour
-- quite gravely, as I assure you!

Tuesday morning our breakfast was delightful. We had Mr. Seward, Mr.
Embry, and Lady Ladd added to our usual party, and Dr. Johnson was
quite in a sportive humour. But I can only write some few speeches,
wanting time to be prolix, not inclination.

'Sir,' said Mrs. Thrale to Dr. Johnson, 'why did you not sooner leave
your wine yesterday, and come to us? we had a Miss who sung and played
like anything!'

'Ay, had you?' said he drolly; 'and why did you not call me to the
rapturous entertainment?'

'Why, I was afraid you would not have praised her, for I sat thinking
all the time myself whether it were better to sing and play as she
sang and played, or to do nothing. And at first I thought she had the
best of it, for we were but stupid before she began; but afterwards
she made it so long, that I thought nothing had all the advantage.
But, sir, Lady Ladd has had the same misfortune you had, for she has
fallen down and hurt herself woefully.,

'How did that happen, madam?'

'Why, sir, the heel of her shoe caught in something.'

'Heel?' replied he; 'nay, then, if her ladyship, who walks six foot
high' (N.B. this is a fact), 'will wear a high heel, I think she
almost deserves a fall.'

'Nay, sir, my heel was not so high!' cried Lady Ladd.

,'But, madam, why should you wear any? That for which there is no
occasion, had always better be dispensed with. However, a fall to your
ladyship is nothing,' continued he, laughing; 'you, who are light and
little, can soon recover; but I who am a gross man, might suffer
severely; with your ladyship the case is different, for 'Airy
substance soon unites again.'


Poor Lady Ladd, who is quite a strapper, made no answer, but she was
not offended. Mrs. Thrale and I afterwards settled, that not knowing
his allusion from the Rape of the Lock, she only thought he had made a
stupid sort of speech, and did not trouble herself to find a meaning
to it.

'However,' continued he, 'if my fall does confine me, I win make my
confinement pleasant, for Miss Burney shall nurse me -- positively!'
(and he slapped his hand on the table), 'and then, she shall sing to
me, and soothe my cares.'

When public news was started, Mr. Thrale desired the subject might be
waived till my father came, and could let us know what part of the
late accounts were true.

Mr. Thrale then offered to carry Mr. Seward, who was obliged to go to
town, in the coach with him, -- and Mr. Embry also left us. But Dr.
Johnson sat with Mrs. Thrale and Lady Ladd, and me for an hour or two.

The subject was given by Lady Ladd; it was the respect due from the
lower class of the people.

'I know my place,' said she, 'and I always take it: and I've no notion
of not taking it. But Mrs. Thrale lets all sort of people do just as
they've a mind by her.'

'Ay,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'why should I torment and worry myself about
all the paltry marks of respect that consist in bows and courtesies?
-- I have no idea of troubling myself about the manners of all the
people I mix with.'

'No,' said Lady Ladd, 'so they will take all sorts of liberties with
you. I remember, when you were at my house, how the hair-dresser flung
down the comb as soon as you were dressed, and went out of the room
without making a bow.'

'Well, all the better,' said Mrs. Thrale; 'for if he had made me one,
ten thousand to one if I had seen it. I was in as great haste to have
done with him, as he could be to have done with me. I was glad enough
to get him out of the room; I did not want him to stand bowing and
cringing.'

'If any man had behaved so insolently to me,' answered she, 'I would
never again have suffered him in my house.'

'Well,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'your ladyship has a great deal more dignity
than I have! -- Dr. Johnson, we are talking of the respect due from
inferiors; -- and Lady Ladd is of the same side you are.',

'Why, madam,' said he, subordination is always necessary to the
preservation of order and decorum.'

'I protest,' said Lady Ladd, 'I have no notion of submitting to any
kind of impertinence: and I never will bear either to have any person
nod to me, or enter a room, where I am, without bowing.'

'But, madam,' said Dr. Johnson, 'what if they will nod, and what if
they won't bow? -- how then?'

'Why, I always tell them of it,' said she.

'Oh, commend me to that!' cried Mrs. Thrale;, 'I'd sooner never see
another bow in my life, than turn dancing-master to hair-dressers.'

The doctor laughed his approbation, but said that every man had a
right to a certain degree of respect, and no man liked to be defrauded
of that right.

'Well, sir,' said Mrs. Thrale, 'I hope you meet with respect enough!'

Yes, madam,' answered he, 'I am very well contented.'

'Nay, if you an't, I don't know who should be; for I believe there is
no man in the world so greatly respected.',

Soon after he went, I went, and shut myself up in a sweet cool
summer-house, to read Irene.: -- which, indeed, though not a good
play, is a beautiful poem.

As my dear father spent the rest of the day here, I will not further
particularize, but leave accounts to his better communication. He
probably told you that the P -- family came in to tea; and, as he
knows Mrs. P -- , pray tell him what Dr. Johnson says of her. When
they were gone Mrs. Thrale complained that she was quite worn out with
that tiresome silly woman, who had talked of her family and affairs
till she was sick to death of hearing her.

'Madam,' said he, 'why do you blame the woman for the only sensible
thing she can do -- talking of her family and her affairs? For how
should a woman who is as empty as a drum, talk upon any other subject?
-- If you speak to her of the sun, she does not know it rises in the
east; -- if you speak to her of the moon, she does not know it changes
at the full; if you speak to her of the queen, she does not know she
is the king's wife; -- how, then, can you blame her for talking of her
family and affairs?'

On Friday, I had a visit from Dr. Johnson! he came on purpose to
reason with me about this pamphlet, which he had heard from my father
had so greatly disturbed me.

Shall I not love him more than ever? However, Miss Young was just
arrived, and Mr. Bremner spent the evening here, and therefore he had
the delicacy and goodness to forbear coming to the point. Yet he said
several things that I understood, though they were unintelligible to
all others; and he was more kind, more good-humoured, more flattering
to me than ever. Indeed, my uneasiness upon this subject has met with
more indulgence from him than from anybody. He repeatedly charged me
not to fret; and bid me not repine at my success, but think of
Moretta, in the Fairy Tale, who found sweetness and consolation in her
wit sufficient to counter-balance her scoffers and libellers! Indeed
he was all good humour and kindness, and seemed quite bent on giving
me comfort as well as flattery.

I shall now skip to the Thursday following, when I accompanied my
father to Streatham. We had a delightful ride, though the day was
horrible.

In two minutes we were joined by Mr. Seward, and in four, by Dr.
Johnson. Mr. Seward, though a reserved, and cold young man, has a
heart open to friendship, and very capable of good-nature and
goodwill, though I believe it abounds not with them to all
indiscriminately: but he really loves my father, and his reserve once,
is always, conquered. He seemed heartily glad to see us both: and the
dear Dr. Johnson was more kind, more pleased, and more delightful than
ever. Our several meetings in town seem to have quite established me
in his favour, and I flatter myself that if he were now accused of
loving me, he would not deny it, nor, as before, insist on waiting
longer ere he went so far.

'I hope, Dr. Burney,' cried Mr. Seward, 'you are now come to stay?

'No!' cried my father, shaking his head, 'that is utterly out of my
power at present.'

'Well, but this fair lady' -- (N.B. -- Fair and brown are synonymous
terms in conversation, however opposite in looks) 'I hope will stay?'

'No, no, no!' was the response, and he came to me and pressed the
invitation very warmly; but Dr. Johnson, going to the window, called
me from him.

'Well, my dear,' cried he, in a low voice, 'and how are you now? have
you done fretting? have you got over your troubles?'

Ah, sir,' quoth I, 'I am sorry they told you of my folly; yet I am
very much obliged to you for bearing to hear of it with so much
indulgence, for I had feared it would have made you hold me cheap ever
after.'

'No, my dear, no! What should I hold you cheap for? It did not
surprise me at all; I thought it very natural; but you must think no
more of it.'

F. B. -- Why, sir, to say the truth, I don't know, after all, whether
I do not owe the affair in part to you!

Dr. J. -- To me? how so?

F. B. -- Why, the appellation of 'little Burney,' I think, must have
come from you, for I know of no body else that calls me so.

This is a fact, Susy, and the 'dear little Burney,' makes it still
more suspicious, for I am sure Sir Joshua Reynolds would never speak
of me so facetiously after only one meeting.

Dr. Johnson seemed almost shocked, and warmly denied having been any
way accessory.

'Why, sir,' cried I, 'they say the pamphlet was written by a Mr.
Huddisford. Now I never saw, never heard of him before; how,
therefore, should he know whether I am little or tall? he could not
call me little by inspiration; I might be a Patagonian for anything he
could tell.'

Dr. J. -- Pho! fiddle-faddle; do you suppose your book is so much
talked of and not yourself? Do you think your readers will not ask
questions, and inform themselves whether you are short or tall, young
or old? Why should you put it on me?

After this he made me follow him into the library, that we might
continue our confab without interruption; and just as we were seated,
entered Mrs. Thrale. I flew to her, and she received me with the
sweetest cordiality. They placed me between them, and we had a most
delicious trio.

We talked over the visit at Sir Joshua's; and Dr. Johnson told me that
Mrs. Cholmondeley was the first person who publicly praised and
recommended Evelina among the wits. Mrs. Thrale told me that at
Tunbridge and Brightelmstone it was the universal topic; and that Mrs.
Montagu had pronounced the dedication to be so well written, that she
could not but suppose it must be the doctor's.

'She is very kind,' quoth I, 'because she likes one part better than
another, to take it from me!',

'You must not mind that,' said Dr. Johnson, 'for such things are
always said where books are successful. There are three distinct kind
of judges upon all new authors or productions; the first are those who
know no rules, but pronounce entirely from their natural taste and
feelings; the second are those who know and judge by rules; and the
third are those who know, but are above the rules. These last are
those you should wish to satisfy. Next to them rate the natural
judges; but ever despise those opinions that are formed by the rules.'

Mrs. Thrale wanted me much to stay all night, but it could not be.

Last week I called on Mrs. Williams, and Dr. Johnson, who had just
returned from Streatham, came down stairs to me, and was so kind! I
quite doat on him; and I really believe that, take away Mr. Crisp,
there is no man out of this house who has so real and affectionate a
regard for me; and I am sure, take away the same person, I can with
the utmost truth say the same thing in return.

I asked after the Streathamites.

'Why;' said he, 'we now only want you -- we have Miss Streatfield,
Miss Brown, Murphy, and Seward -- we only want you! Has Mrs. Thrale
called on you lately?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Ah,' said he, 'you are such a darling!'

Mrs. Williams added a violent compliment to this, but concluded with
saying,

'My only fear is lest she should put me in a book!'

,'Sir Joshua Reynolds,' answered Dr. Johnson, 'says, that if he were
conscious to himself of any trick, or any affectation, there is nobody
he should so much fear as this little Burney!'

This speech he told me once before, so that I find it has struck him
much.


Streatham,February. --

I have been here so long, my dearest Susan, without writing a word,
that now I hardly know where or how to begin. But I will try to draw
up a concise account of what has passed for this last fortnight, and
then endeavour to be more minute.

Mrs. Thrale and Dr. Johnson vied with each other in the kindness of
their reception of me. Mr. Thrale was, as usual at first, cold and
quiet, but soon, as usual also, warmed into sociality.

The next day Sir Philip Jennings Clerke came. He is not at all a man
of letters, but extremely well-bred, nay, elegant, in his manners, and
sensible and agreeable in his conversation. He is a professed minority
man, and very active and zealous in the opposition. He had, when I
came, a bill in agitation concerning contractors -- too long a matter
to explain upon paper -- but which was levelled against bribery and
corruption in the ministry, and which he was to make a motion upon in
the House of Commons the next week.

Men of such different principles as Dr. Johnson and Sir Philip, you
may imagine, cannot have much sympathy or cordiality in their
political debates; however, the very superior abilities of the former,
and the remarkable good breeding of the latter, have kept both upon
good terms; though they have had several arguments, in which each has
exerted his utmost force for conquest.

The heads of one of their debates I must try to remember, because I
should be sorry to forget. Sir Philip explained his bill; Dr. Johnson
at first scoffed it; Mr. Thrale betted a guinea the motion would not
pass, and Sir Philip, that he should divide a hundred and fifty upon
it.

I am afraid, my dear Susan, you already tremble at this political
commencement, but I will soon have done, for I know your taste too
well to enlarge upon this theme.

Sir Philip, addressing himself to Mrs. Thrale, hoped she would not
suffer the Tories to warp her judgment, and told me he hoped my father
had not tainted my principles; and then he further explained his bill,
and indeed made it appear so equitable, that Mrs. Thrale gave in to
it, and wished her husband to vote for it. He still hung back; but, to
our general surprise, Dr. Johnson, having made more particular
inquiries into its merits, first softened towards it, and then
declared it a very rational and fair bill, and joined with Mrs. Thrale
in soliciting Mr. Thrale's vote.

Sir Philip was, and with very good reason, quite delighted. He opened
upon politics more amply, and freely declared his opinions, which were
so strongly against the Government, and so much bordering upon the
republican principles, that Dr. Johnson suddenly took fire; he called
back his recantation, begged Mr. Thrale not to vote for Sir Philip's
bill, and grew very animated against his antagonist.

'The bill,' said he, 'ought to be opposed by all honest men! in
itself, and considered simply, it is equitable, and I would forward
it; but when we find what a faction it is to support and encourage, it
ought not to be listened to. All men should oppose it who do not wish
well to sedition!'

These, and several other expressions yet more strong, he made use of;
and had Sir Philip had less unalterable politeness, I believe they
would have had a vehement quarrel. He maintained his ground, however,
with calmness and steadiness, though he had neither argument nor wit
at all equal to such an opponent.

Dr. Johnson pursued him with unabating vigour and dexterity, and at
length, though he could not convince, he so entirely baffled him, that
Sir Philip was self-compelled to be quiet -- which, with a very good
grace, he confessed.

Dr. Johnson, then, recollecting himself, and thinking as he owned
afterwards, that the dispute grew too serious, with a skill all his
own, suddenly and unexpectedly turned it to burlesque; and taking Sir
Philip by the hand at the moment we arose after supper, and were
separating for the night,

'Sir Philip,' said he, 'you are too liberal a man for the party to
which you belong; I shall have much pride in the honour of converting
you; for I really believe, if you were not spoiled by bad company, the
spirit of faction would not have possessed you. Go, then, sir, to the
House, but make not your motion! Give up your Bill, and surprise the
world by turning to the side of truth and reason. Rise, sir, when they
least expect you, and address your fellow-patriots to this purpose: --
Gentlemen, I have, for many a weary day, been deceived and seduced by
you. I have now opened my eyes; I see that you are all scoundrels --
the subversion of all government is your aim. Gentlemen, I will no
longer herd among rascals in whose infamy my name and character must
be included. I therefore renounce you all, gentlemen, as you deserve
to be renounced.'

Then, shaking his hand heartily, he added,

'Go, sir, go to bed; meditate upon this recantation, and rise in the
morning a more honest man than you laid down' [sic].

Now I must try to be rather more minute. On Thursday, while my dear
father was here, who should be announced but Mr. Murphy; the man of
all other strangers to me whom I most longed to see.

He is tall and well made, has a very gentleman-like appearance, and a
quietness of manner upon his first address that, to me, is very
pleasing. His face looks sensible, and his deportment is perfectly
easy and polite.

When he had been welcomed by Mrs. Thrale, and had gone through the
reception-salutations of Dr. Johnson and my father, Mrs. Thrale,
advancing to me, said,

'But here is a lady I must introduce to you, Mr. Murphy; here is
another F. B.'

'Indeed!' cried he, taking my hand; 'is this a sister of Miss
Brown's?'

'No, no; this is Miss Burney.'

'What!' cried he, staring, 'is this -- is this -- this is not the lady
that -- that -- '

'Yes, but it is,' answered she, laughing.

'No, you don't say so? You don't mean the lady that -- '

'Yes, yes, I do; no less a lady, I assure you.'

He then said he was very glad of the honour of seeing me; and I
sneaked away.

When we came up stairs, Mrs. Thrale charged me to make myself
agreeable to Mr. Murphy.

'He may be of use to you, in what I am most eager for -- your writing
a play: he knows stage business so well; and if you will but take a
fancy to one another, he may be more able to serve you than all of us
put together. My ambition is that Johnson should write your prologue,
and Murphy your epilogue; then I shall be quite happy.'

At tea-time, when I went into the library, I found Dr. Johnson
reading, and Mrs. Thrale in close conference with Mr. Murphy.

'It is well, Miss Burney,' said the latter, 'that you have come, for
we were abusing you most vilely;, we were in the very act of pulling
you to pieces.',

'Don't you think her very like her father?' said Mrs. Thrale.

'Yes; but what a sad man is Dr. Burney for running away so! how long
had he been here?'

Mrs. Thrale. -- Oh, but an hour or two. I often say Dr. Burney is the
most of a male coquet of any man I know; for he only gives one enough
of his company to excite a desire for more.

Mr. Murphy. -- Dr. Burny is, indeed, a most extraordinary man; I think
I don't know such another;, he is at home upon all subjects, and upon
all so agreeable! he is a wonderful man!',

And now let me stop this conversation, to go back to a similar one
with Dr. Johnson, who, a few days since, when Mrs. Thrale was singing
our father's praise, used this expression:

'I love Burney: my heart goes out to meet him!'

'He is not ungrateful, sir,' cried I; 'for most heartily does he love
you.'

'Does he, madam? I am surprised at that.'

'Why, sir? why should you have doubted it?'

'Because, madam, Dr. Burney is a man for all the world to love: it is
but natural to love him.'

I could almost have cried with delight at this cordial unlaboured
éloge. Another time, he said:

'I much question if there is, in the world, such another man as Dr.
Burney.'

But to return to the tea-table.

'If I,' said Mr. Murphy, looking very archly, 'had written a certain
book -- a book I won't name, but a book I have lately read -- I would
next write a comedy.''

'Good,' cried Mrs. Thrale, colouring with pleasure; 'do you think so
too?'

'Yes, indeed; I thought so while I was reading it; it struck me
repeatedly.'

'Don't look at me,