Chapter IX: Part 9

To be sure I could have no doubt who entered, but, very innocently, I demanded of them all the cause of their mirth. They scrupled not explaining themselves; and I found my caution, in not mentioning the query that had been put to me, availed me nothing, for the captain was already a marked man in my service!

He placed himself exactly behind me, but very quietly and silently, and did not, for some minutes, speak to me; afterwards, however, he did a little,--except when my favourite, Mr. Lee, who acted Old Norval, in “Douglas,” was on the stage, and then he was strictly silent. I am in no cue to write our discourse; but it was pleasant and entertaining enough at the time, and his observations upon the play and the players were lively and comical. But I was prodigiously worried by my own party, who took every opportunity to inquire how I was entertained and so forth,--and to snigger.

Two young ladies, who seemed about eighteen, and sat above us were so much shocked by the death of Douglas, that both burst into a loud fit of roaring, like little children,--and sobbed on, afterwards, for almost half the farce! I was quite astonished; and Miss Weston complained that they really disturbed her sorrows; but Captain Bouchier was highly diverted, and went to give them comfort, as if they had been babies, telling them it was all over, and that they need not cry any more.

_Monday._--At breakfast, Mrs. Thrale said,

“Ah, you never tell me your love-secrets, but I could tell you one if I chose it!”

This produced entreaties---and entreaties thus much further--

“Why, I know very well who is in love with Fanny Burney!”

I told her that was more than I did, but owned it was not difficult to guess who she meant, though I could not tell what.

“Captain Bouchier,” said she. “But you did not tell me so, nor he either; I had it from Mr. Tyson, our master of the ceremonies, who told me you made a conquest of him at the ball; and he knows these matters pretty well; 'tis his trade to know them.”

“Well-a-day!” quoth I--“'tis unlucky we did not meet a little sooner, for this very day he is ordered away with his troop into Norfolk.”

BATH EASTON AND SCEPTICAL MISS W----

_Thursday, June 8._--We went to Bath Easton. Mrs. Lambart went with us.

The house is charmingly situated, well fitted up, convenient, and pleasant, and not large, but commodious and elegant. Thursday is still their public day for company, though the business of the vase is over for this season.

The room into which we were conducted was so much crowded we could hardly make our way. Lady Miller came to the door, and, as she had first done to the rest of us, took my hand, and led me up to a most prodigious fat old lady, and introduced me to her. This was Mrs. Riggs, her ladyship's mother, who seems to have Bath Easton and its owners under her feet.

I was smiled upon with a graciousness designedly marked, and seemed most uncommonly welcome. Mrs. Riggs looked as if she could have shouted for joy at sight of me! She is mighty merry and facetious, Sir John was very quiet, but very civil.

I saw the place appropriated for the vase, but at this time it was removed. As it was hot, Sir John Miller offered us to walk round the house, and see his greenhouse, etc. So away we set off, Harriet Bowdler accompanying me, and some others following.

We had not strolled far ere we were overtaken by another party, and among them I perceived Miss W-- my new sceptical friend. She joined me immediately, and I found she was by no means in so sad a humour as when I saw her last, on the contrary, she seemed flightily gay.

“Were you never here before?” she asked me.

“No.”

“No? why what an acquisition you are then! I suppose you will contribute to the vase?”

“No, indeed!”

“No more you ought; you are quite too good for it.”

“No, not that; but I have no great passion for making the trial. You, I suppose, have contributed?”

“No, never--I can't. I have tried, but I could never write verses in my life--never get beyond Cupid and stupid.”

“Did Cupid, then, always come in your way? what a mischievous urchin!”

“No, he has not been very mischievous to me this year.”

“Not this year? Oh, very well! He has spared you, then, for a whole twelvemonth!”

She laughed, and we were interrupted by more company.

Some time after, while I was talking with Miss W-- and Harriet Bowdler, Mrs. Riggs came up to us, and with an expression of comical admiration, fixed her eyes upon me, and for some time amused herself with apparently watching me. Mrs. Lambart, who was at cards, turned round and begged me to give her her cloak, for she felt rheumatic; I could not readily find it, and, after looking some time, I was obliged to give her my own; but while I was hunting, Mrs. Riggs followed me, laughing, nodding, and looking much delighted, and every now and then saying,

“That's right, Evelina--Ah! look for it, Evelina!--Evelina always did so--she always looked for people's cloaks, and was obliging and well-bred!”

I grinned a little, to be sure, but tried to escape her, by again getting between Miss W-- and Harriet Bowdler; but Mrs. Riggs still kept opposite to me, expressing from time to time, by uplifted hands and eyes, comical applause, Harriet Bowdler modestly mumbled some praise, but addressed it to Miss Thrale. I begged a truce, and retired to a chair in a corner, at the request of Miss W-- to have a tete-a-tete, for which, however, her strange levity gave me no great desire. She begged to know if I had written anything else. I assured her never.

“The 'Sylph,'” said she, “I am told, was yours.”

“I had nothing at all to do with that or anything else that ever was published but 'Evelina;' you, I suppose, read the 'Sylph' for its name's sake?”

“No; I never read novels--I hate them; I never read 'Evelina' till I was quite persecuted by hearing it talked of. 'Sir Charles Grandison' I tried once, but could not bear it; Sir Charles for a lover! no lover for me! for a guardian or the trustee of an estate, he might do very well--but for a lover!”

“What--when he bows upon your hand! would not that do?”

She kept me by her side for a full hour, and we again talked over our former conversation; and I enquired what first led her to seeking infidel books?

“Pope,” she said; he was himself a deist, she believed, and his praise of Bolingbroke made her mad to read his books, and then the rest followed easily. She also gave me an account of her private and domestic life; of her misery at home, her search of dissipation, and her incapability of happiness.

CURIOSITY ABOUT THE “EVELINA” SET.

Our conversation would have lasted till leave-taking, but for our being interrupted by Miss Miller, a most beautiful little girl of ten years old. Miss W-- begged her to sing us a French song. She coquetted, but Mrs. Riggs came to us, and said if I wished it I did her grand-daughter great honour, and she insisted upon her obedience. The little girl laughed and complied, and we went into another room to hear her, followed by the Misses Caldwell. She sung in a pretty childish manner enough.

When we became more intimate, she said,

“Ma'am, I have a great favour to request of you, if you please!”

I begged to know what it was, and assured her I would grant it; and to be out of the way of these misses, I led her to the window.

“Ma'am,” said the little girl, “will you then be so good as to tell me where Evelina is now?”

I was a little surprised at the question, and told her I had not heard lately.

“Oh, ma'am, but I am sure you know!” cried she, “for you know you wrote it; and mamma was so good as to let me hear her read it; and pray, ma'am, do tell me where she is? and whether Miss Branghton and Miss Polly went to see her when she was married to Lord Orville?”

I promised her I would inquire, and let her know.

“And pray, ma'am, is Madame Duval with her now?”

And several other questions she asked me, with a childish simplicity that was very diverting. She took the whole for a true story, and was quite eager to know what was become of all the people. And when I said I would inquire, and tell her when we next met.

“Oh, but, ma'am,” she said, “had not you better write it down, because then there would be more of it, you know?”

ALARM AT THE “NO POPERY” RIOTS.

[The disgraceful “No Popery” riots, which filled London with
terror, and the whole country with alarm, in June, 1780,
were occasioned by the recent relaxation of the severe penal
laws against the Catholics. The rioters were headed by Lord
George Gordon, a crazy enthusiast. Dr. Johnson has given a
lively account of the disturbance in his “Letters to Mrs.
Thrale,” some excerpts from which will, perhaps, be not
unacceptable to the reader.

“9th June, 1780. on Friday (June 2) the good protestants met
in Saint George's Fields, at the summons of Lord George
Gordon; and marching to Westminster, insulted the lords and
commons, who all bore it with great tameness. At night the
outrages began by the demolition of the mass-house by
Lincoln's Inn.

“An exact journal of a week's defiance of government I
cannot give you. On Monday Mr. Strahan, who had been
insulted, spoke to Lord Mansfield, who had, I think, been
insulted too, of the licentiousness of the populace; and his
lordship treated it as a very slight irregularity. On
Tuesday night they pulled down Fielding's[130] house, and
burnt his goods in the street. They had gutted on Monday
Sir George Savile's house, but the building was saved. On
Tuesday evening, leaving Fielding's ruins, they went to
Newgate to demand their companions, who had been seized
demolishing the chapel. The keeper could not release them
but by the mayor's permission, which he went to ask; at his
return he found all the prisoners released, and Newgate in a
blaze. They then went to Bloomsbury, and fastened upon Lord
Mansfield's house, which they pulled down; and as for his
goods, they totally burnt them. They have since gone to
Caen-wood, but a guard was there before them. They plundered
some papists, I think, and burnt a mass-house in Moorfields
the same night.

“On Wednesday I walked with Dr. Scot to look at Newgate and
found it in ruins, with the fire yet glowing. As I went by,
the Protestants were plundering the sessions-house at the
Old Bailey. There were not, I believe, a hundred; but they
did their work at leisure, in full security, without
sentinels without trepidation, as men lawfully employed in
full day. Such is the cowardice of a commercial place. On
Wednesday they broke open the Fleet, and the King's Bench,
and the Marshalsea, and Woodstreet Compter, and Clerkenwell
Bridewell, and released all the prisoners. At night they
set fire to the Fleet, and to the King's Bench, and I know
not how many other places; and one might see the glare of
conflagration fill the sky from many parts. The sight was
dreadful.

“The King said in council, 'That the magistrates had not
done their duty, but that he would do his own;' and a
proclamation was published, directing us to keep our
servants within doors, as the peace was now to be preserved
by force. The soldiers were sent out to different parts,
and the town is now at quiet. What has happened at your
house[131] you will know: the harm is only a few butts of
beer; and, I think, you may be sure that the danger is
over.”

10th June, 1780. The soldiers are stationed so as to be
everywhere within call. There is no longer any body of
rioters, and the individuals are hunted to their holes, and
led to prison. Lord George was last night sent to the Tower.

Government now acts again with its proper force---and we are
all under the protection of the King and the law.--ED.]

When we came home our newspaper accounts of the tumults In town with Lord George Gordon and his mob, alarmed us very much; but we had still no notion of the real danger you were all in.

Next day we drank tea with the Dowdlers. At our return home we were informed a mob was surrounding a new Roman Catholic chapel. At first we disbelieved it, but presently one of the servants came and told us they were knocking it to pieces; and in half an hour, looking out of our windows, we saw it in flames: and listening, we heard loud and violent shouts!

I shall write no particulars--the horrible subject you have had more than your share of. Mrs. Thrale and I sat up till four o'clock, and walked about the parades, and at two we went with a large party to the spot, and saw the beautiful new building consuming; the mob then were all quiet--all still and silent, and everybody seemed but as spectators.

Saturday morning, to my inexpressible concern, brought me no letters from town, and my uneasiness to hear from you made me quite wretched. Mrs. Thrale had letters from Sir Philip Clerke and Mr. Perkins, to acquaint her that her town-house had been three times attacked, but was at last saved by guards; her children, plate, money, and valuables all removed. Streatham also threatened, and emptied of all its furniture.

The same morning also we saw a Bath and Bristol paper, in which Mr. Thrale was asserted to be a papist. This villanous falsehood terrified us even for his personal safety, and Mrs. Thrale and I agreed it was best to leave Bath directly, and travel about the country.

She left to me the task of acquainting Mr. Thrale with these particulars, being herself too much disturbed to be capable of such a task. I did it as well as I could, and succeeded so far that, by being lightly told of it, he treated it lightly, and bore it with much steadiness and composure. We then soon settled to decamp.

We had no time nor spirits pour prendre conge stuff, but determined to call upon the Bowdlers and Miss Cooper. They were all sorry to part, and Miss Cooper, to my equal surprise and pleasure, fairly made a declaration of her passion for me, assuring me she had never before taken so great a fancy to a new acquaintance, and beginning warmly the request I meant to make myself, of continuing our intimacy in town.

FANNY BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY.

Bath, June 9, 1780,

My dearest sir,

How are you? where are you? and what is to come next? The accounts from town are so frightful, that I am uneasy, not only for the city at large, but for every individual I know in it. Does this martial law confine you quite to the house? Folks here say that it must, and that no business of any kind can be transacted. Oh, what dreadful times! Yet I rejoice extremely that the opposition members have fared little better than the ministerial. Had such a mob been confirmed friends of either or of any party, I think the nation must have been at their disposal; for, if headed by popular or skilful leaders, who and what could have resisted them?--I mean, if they are as formidable as we are here told.

Dr. Johnson has written to Mrs. Thrale, without even mentioning the existence of this mob; perhaps at this very moment he thinks it “a humbug upon the nation,” as George Bodens called the parliament,

A private letter to Bull, the bookseller, brought word this morning that much slaughter has been made by the military among the mob. Never, I am sure, can any set of wretches less deserve quarter or pity; yet it is impossible not to shudder at hearing of their destruction. Nothing less, however, would do; they were too outrageous and powerful for civil power.

But what is it they want? who is going to turn papist? who, indeed, is thinking in an alarming way of religion?--this pious mob, and George Gordon excepted?

All the stage-coaches that come into Bath from London are chalked over with “No Popery,” and Dr. Harrington called here just now, and says the same was chalked this morning upon his door, and is scrawled in several places about the town. Wagers have been laid that the popish chapel here will be pulled or burnt down in a few days; but I believe not a word of the matter, nor do I find that anybody is at all alarmed. Bath, indeed, ought to be held sacred as a sanctuary for invalids; and I doubt not but the news of the firing in town will prevent all tumults out of it.

Now, if, after all the intolerable provocation given by the mob, after all the leniency and forbearance of the ministry, and after the shrinking Of the minority, we shall by and by hear that this firing was a massacre--will it not be villanous and horrible? And yet as soon as safety is secured--though by this means alone all now agree it can be secured--nothing would less surprise me than to hear the seekers of popularity make this assertion.

_Friday night._--The above I writ this morning, before I recollected this was not post-day, and all is altered here since. The threats I despised were but too well grounded, for, to our utter amazement and consternation, the new Roman Catholic chapel in this town was set on fire at about nine o'clock. It is now burning with a fury that is dreadful, and the house of the priest belonging to it is in flames also. The poor persecuted man himself has I believe escaped with life, though pelted, followed, and very ill used. Mrs. Thrale and I have been walking about with the footmen several times. The whole town is still and orderly. The rioters do their work with great composure, and though there are knots of people in every corner, all execrating the authors of such outrages, nobody dares oppose them. An attempt indeed was made, but it was ill-conducted, faintly followed, and soon put an end to by a secret fear of exciting vengeance.

Alas! to what have we all lived!--the poor invalids here will probably lose all chance of life, from terror. Mr. Hay, our apothecary, has been attending the removal of two, who were confined to their beds in the street where the chapel is burning. The Catholics throughout the place are all threatened with destruction, and we met several porters, between ten and eleven at night, privately removing goods, walking on tiptoe, and scarcely breathing.

I firmly believe, by the deliberate villany with which this riot is conducted, that it wil! go on in the same desperate way as in town, and only be stopped by the same desperate means. Our plan for going to Bristol is at an end. We are told it would be madness, as there are seven Romish chapels in it; but we are determined upon removing somewhere to-morrow; for why should we, who can go, stay to witness such horrid scenes?

_Saturday Afternoon, June 10_--I was most cruelly disappointed in not having one word to-day. I am half crazy with doubt and disturbance in not hearing. Everybody here is terrified to death. We have intelligence that Mr. Thrale's house in town is filled with soldiers, and threatened by the mob with destruction.

Perhaps he may himself be a marked man for their fury. We are going directly from Bath, and intend to stop only at villages. To-night we shall stop at Warminster, not daring to go to Devizes. This place is now well guarded, but still we dare not await the event of to-night; all the catholics in the town have privately escaped.

I know not now when I shall hear from you. I am in agony for news. Our head-quarters will be Brighthelmstone, where I do most humbly and fervently entreat you to write--do, dearest sir, write, if but one word--if but only you name yourself! Nothing but your own hand can now tranquillize me. The reports about London here quite distract me. If it were possible to send ine a line by the diligence to Brighton, how grateful I should be for such an indulgence!

HASTY DEPARTURE FROM BATH.

FANNY BURNEY TO DR. BURNEY.

Salisbury, June 11, 1780

Here we are, dearest sir, and here we mean to pass this night.

We did not leave Bath till eight o'clock yesterday evening, at which time it was filled with dragoons, militia, and armed constables, not armed with muskets, but bludgeons: these latter were all chairmen, who were sworn by the mayor in the morning for petty constables. A popish private chapel, and the houses of all the catholics, were guarded between seven and eight, and the inhabitants ordered to keep house.

We set out in the coach-and-four, with two men on horseback, and got to Warminster, a small town in Somersetshire, a little before twelve.

This morning two more servants came after us from Bath, and brought us word that the precautions taken by the magistrates last night had good success, for no attempt of any sort had been renewed towards a riot. But the happiest tidings to me were contained in a letter which they brought, which had arrived after our departure, by the diligence, from Mr. Perkins,[132] with an account that all was quiet in London, and that Lord G. Gordon was sent to the Tower. I am now again tolerably easy, but I shall not be really comfortable, or free from some fears, till I hear from St. Martin's Street.

The Borough house has been quite preserved. I know not how long we may be on the road, but nowhere long enough for receiving a letter till we come to Brighthelmstone.

We stopped in our way at Wilton, and spent half the day at that beautiful place.

Just before we arrived there, Lord Arundel had sent to the officers in the place, to entreat a party of guards immediately, for the safety of his house, as he had intelligence that a mob was on the road from London to attack it:--he is a catholic. His request was immediately complied with.

We intended to have gone to a private town, but find all quiet here, and therefore prefer it as much more commodious. There is no Romish chapel in the town; mass has always been performed for the catholics of the place at a Mrs. Arundel's in the Close--a relation of his lordship's, whose house is fifteen miles off. I have inquired about the Harris's;[133] I find they are here and all well.

THE GORDON RIOTS.

CHARLOTTE BURNEY[134] TO FANNY BURNEY.

I am very sorry, my dear Fanny, to hear how much you have suffered from your apprehension about us. Susan will tell you why none of us wrote before Friday; and she says, she has told you what dreadful havoc and devastation--the mob have made here in all parts of the town. However, we are pretty quiet and tranquil again now. Papa goes on with his business pretty much as usual, and so far from the military keeping people within doors (as you say in your letter to my father, you suppose to be the case), the streets were never more crowded--everybody is wandering about in order to see the ruins of the places that the mob have destroyed.

There are two camps, one in St. James's, and the other in Hyde Park, which together with the military law, makes almost every one here think he is safe again. I expect we shall all have “a passion for a scarlet coat” now.

I hardly know what to tell you that won't be stale news. They say that duplicates of the handbill that I have enclosed were distributed all over the town on Wednesday and Thursday last; however, thank heaven, everybody says now that Mr. Thrale's house and brewery are as safe as we can wish them. There was a brewer in Turnstile that had his house gutted and burnt, because, the mob said, “he was a papish, and sold popish beer.” Did you ever hear of such diabolical ruffians?

To add to the pleasantness of our situation, there have been gangs of women going about to rob and plunder. Miss Kirwans went on Friday afternoon to walk in the Museum gardens, and were stopped by a set of women, and robbed of all the money they had. The mob had proscribed the mews, for they said, “the king should not have a horse to ride upon!” They besieged the new Somerset House, with intention to destroy it, but were repulsed by some soldiers placed there for that purpose.

Mr. Sleepe has been here a day or two, and says the folks at Watford, where he comes from, “approve very much Of having the Catholic chapels destroyed, for they say it's a shame the Pope should come here!” There is a house hereabouts that they had chalked upon last week, “Empty, and No Popery!”

I am heartily rejoiced, my dearest Fanny, that you have got away from Bath, and hope and trust that at Brighthelmstone you will be as safe as we are here.

It sounds almost incredible, but they say, that on Wednesday night last, when the mob were more powerful, more numerous, and outrageous than ever, there was, nevertheless, a number of exceeding genteel people at Ranelagh, though they knew not but their houses might be on fire at the time!

A SUGGESTED VISIT To GRUB-STREET.

FANNY BURNEY TO MRS. THRALE.

Since I wrote last I have drunk tea with Dr. Johnson. My father took me to Bolt-court, and we found him, most fortunately, with only one brass-headed cane gentleman. Since that I have had the pleasure to meet him again at Mrs. Reynolds's, when he offered to take me with him to Grub-street, to see the ruins of the house demolished there in the late riots, by a mob that, as he observed, could be no friend to the Muses! He inquired if I had ever yet visited Grub-street? but was obliged to restrain his anger when I answered “No,” because he acknowledged he had never paid his respects to it himself. “However,” says he, “you and I, Burney, will go together; we have a very good right to go, so we'll visit the mansions of our progenitors, and take up our own freedom, together.” There's for you, madam! What can be grander?

FANNY BURNEY'S BROTHER IS PROMOTED.

FANNY BURNEY to MRS. THRALE.

Chesington, Nov. 4.

I had no other adventure in London, but a most delightful incident has happened since I came hither. We had just done tea on Friday, and Mrs. Hamilton, Kitty, Jem, and Mr. Crisp, were sitting down to cards, when we were surprised by an express from London, and it brought a “Whereas we think fit” from the Admiralty, to appoint Captain Burney to the command of the “Latona,” during the absence of the Honourable Captain Conway. This is one of the best frigates in the navy, of thirty-eight guns, and immediately, I believe, ready for service. Jem was almost frantic with ecstacy of joy: he sang, laughed, drank to his own success, and danced about the room with Miss Kitty till He put her quite out of breath. His hope is to get out immediately, and have a brush with some of the Dons, Monsieurs, or Mynheers, while he is in possession of a ship of sufficient force to attack any frigate he may meet.

(Mrs. Thrale wrote to Fanny from Streatham, Dec. 22:--)

I have picked up something to please you; Dr. Johnson pronounced an actual eulogium upon Captain Burney, to his yesterday's listeners--how amiable he was, and how gentle in his manner, etc., tho' he had lived so many years with sailors and savages.

THE DEATH OF MR. THRALE.

FANNY BURNEY to MRS. THRALE[135]

Wednesday Evening, April 4, 1781

You bid me write to you, and so I will; you bid me pray for you, and so, indeed, I do, for the restoration of your sweet peace of mind. I pray for your resignation to this hard blow, for the continued union and exertion of your virtues with your talents, and for the happiest reward their exertion can meet with, in the gratitude and prosperity of your children. These are my prayers for my beloved Mrs. Thrale; but these are not my only ones; no, the unfailing warmth of her kindness for myself I have rarely, for a long time past, slept without first petitioning.

I ran away without seeing you again when I found you repented that sweet compliance with my request which I had won from you. For the world would I not have pursued you, had I first seen your prohibition, nor could I endure to owe that consent to teasing which I only solicited from tenderness. Still, however, I think you had better have suffered me to follow you; I might have been of some use; I hardly could have been in your way. But I grieve now to have forced you to an interview which I would have spared myself as well as you, had I foreseen how little it would have answered my purpose.

Yet though I cannot help feeling disappointed, I am not surprised; for in any case at all similar, I am sure I should have the same eagerness for solitude.

I tell you nothing of how sincerely I sympathise in your affliction; yet I believe that Mr. Crutchley and Dr. Johnson alone do so more earnestly; and I have some melancholy comfort in flattering myself that, allowing for the difference of our characters, that true regard which I felt was as truly returned. Nothing but kindness did I ever meet with; he ever loved to have me, not merely with his family, but with himself; and gratefully shall I ever remember a thousand kind expressions of esteem and good opinion, which are now crowding upon my memory.

SECT. 4 (1781-2.)

MISS BURNEY EXTENDS THE CIRCLE OF HER ACQUAINTANCE.

[During the years 1781 and 1782 Fanny was engaged upon her
second novel, “Cecilia,” which was published in July, 1782.
It is not necessary here to discuss the merits of a work
with which everyone ought to be acquainted. We may safely
leave the task of criticising “Cecilia” to an unimpeachable
authority, Edmund Burke, whose magnificent, but just eulogy
of the book will be found on page 232 Of the present volume.
In the following section of “The Diary” Fanny records one
of the most memorable events of her life,--her introduction
to Burke, in June, 1782, at Sir Joshua Reynolds's house on
Richmond Hill. Her letter to Mr. Crisp, printed in the
“Memoirs of Dr. Burney,” gives a more detailed account than
that in the “Diary,” of the conversation which passed on
this occasion. Other men of genius were present, among them
Gibbon the historian, whom she then met for the first time;
but Fanny had eyes and ears for none but Burke. Nor was she
singular in yielding thus completely to the fascination of
the great Irishman's manner and conversation. Wherever he
appeared, in what society soever he mingled, Burke was still
the man of distinction. As Johnson said, you could not
stand under a shed with Burke for a few minutes, during a
shower of rain, without feeling that you were in the company
of an extraordinary man.

Mr. Thrale's death produced no immediate change in the
situation of affairs at Streatham. Dr. Johnson's visits
were as frequent and as protracted as before; Fanny
continued to be numbered among the dearest friends of the
widow. Not yet had arisen that infatuation which eventually
alienated from Mrs. Thrale the sympathy of her former
friends, and subjected her, justly or unjustly, to such
severe and general condemnation. But to this topic we shall
revert at a later period.

The great brewer had left his wife and family in affluent
circumstances. The executors to his Will were Dr. Johnson,
Mr. Henry Smith, Mr. Cator and Mr. Crutchley, together with
Mrs. Thrale. Of the last-named gentleman we shall hear a
good deal in the following pages. He and Mr. Cator were
both chosen members of parliament In the same year--1784:
Mr. Cator for Ipswich, Mr. Crutchley for Horsham. Early in
the summer following Thrale's decease the brewery was sold
for the handsome sum of 135,000 pounds, to David Barclay,
the Quaker, who took Thrale's old manager, Perkins into
Partnership. Thus was founded the famous house Of Barclay
and Perkins.-ED-]

YOUNG MR. CRUTCHLEY RUFFLES MISS BURNEY.

Streatham, May.

Miss Owen and I arrived here without incident, which, in a journey of six or seven miles, was really marvellous. Mrs. Thrale came from the Borough with two of the executors, Dr. Johnson and Mr Crutchley soon after us. She had been sadly worried, and in the evening frightened us all by again fainting away. Dear creature! she is all agitation of mind and of body: but she is now wonderfully recovered though in continual fevers about her affairs, which are mighty difficult and complicate indeed. Yet the behaviour of all the executors is exactly to her wish. Mr. Crutchley, in particular, was he a darling son or only brother could not possibly be more truly devoted to her. Indeed., I am very happy in the revolution in my own mind in favour of this young man, whom formerly I so little liked; for I now see so much of him, business and inclination uniting to bring him hither continually, that if he were disagreeable to me, I should spend my time in a most comfortless manner. On the contrary, I both respect and esteem him very highly; for his whole conduct manifests so much goodness of heart and excellence of principle, that he is Un homme comme ill y en a peu; and that first appearance of coldness, pride, reserve, and sneering, all wears off upon further acquaintance, and leaves behind nothing but good-humour and good-will. And this you must allow to be very candid, when I tell you that, but yesterday, he affronted me so much by a piece Of impertinence that I had a very serious quarrel with im.

Sunday morning nobody went to church but Mr. Crutchley, Miss Thrale, and myself; and some time after, when I was sauntering upon the lawn before the house, Mr. Crutchley joined me. We were returning together into the house, when, Mrs. Thrale, popping her head out of her dressing-room window, called out,

“How nicely these men domesticate among us, Miss Burney! Why, they take to us as natural as life!”

“Well, well,” cried Mr. Crutchley, “I have sent for my horse, and I shall release you early to-morrow morning, I think yonder comes Sir Philip.”[136]

“Oh! you'll have enough to do with him,” cried she, laughing; “he is well prepared to plague you, I assure you.”

“Is he?--and what about?”

“Why, about Miss Burney. He asked me the other day what was my present establishment. 'Mr. Crutchley and Miss Burney,' I answered. 'How well those two names go together,' cried he; 'I think they can't do better than make a match of it: I will consent, I am sure,' he added; and to-day, I dare say, you will hear enough of it.”

I leave you to judge if I was pleased at this stuff thus communicated; but Mrs. Thrale, with all her excellence, can give up no occasion of making sport, however unseasonable, or even painful.

“I am very much obliged to him, indeed,” cried I, dryly; and Mr. Crutchley called out, “Thank him!--thank him!” in a voice of pride and of pique that spoke him mortally angry.

I instantly came into the house, leaving him to talk it out with Mrs. Thrale, to whom I heard him add, “So this is Sir Philip's kindness!” and her answer, “I wish you no worse luck!”

Now, what think you of this? was it not highly insolent?--and from a man who has behaved to me hitherto with the utmost deference, good-nature, and civility, and given me a thousand reasons, by every possible opportunity, to think myself very high indeed in his good opinion and good graces? But these rich men think themselves the constant prey of all portionless girls, and are always upon their guard, and suspicious of some design to take them in. This sort of disposition I had very early observed in Mr. Crutchley, and therefore I had been more distant and cold with him than with anybody I ever met with; but latterly his character had risen so much in my mind, and his behaviour was so much improved, that I had let things take their own course, and no more shunned than I sought him; for I evidently saw his doubts concerning me and my plots were all at an end, and his civility and attentions were daily increasing, so that I had become very comfortable with him, and well pleased with his society.

I need not, I think, add that I determined to see as little of this most fearful and haughty gentleman in future as was in my power, since no good qualities can compensate for such arrogance of suspicion; and, therefore, as I had reason enough to suppose he would, in haste, resume his own reserve, I resolved, without much effort, to be beforehand with him in resuming mine.

MISS BURNEY SULKS ON.

At dinner we had a large and most disagreeable party of Irish ladies, whom Mrs. Thrale was necessitated to invite from motives of business and various connections.

I was obliged to be seated between Miss O'Riley and Mr. Crutchley, to whom you may believe I was not very courteous, especially as I had some apprehension of Sir Philip. Mr. Crutchley, however, to my great surprise, was quite as civil as ever, and endeavoured to be as chatty; but there I begged to be excused, only answering upon the reply, and that very dryly, for I was indeed horribly provoked with him.

I was much diverted during dinner by this Miss O'Riley, who took it in her humour to attack Mr. Crutchley repeatedly, though so discouraging a beau never did I see! Her forwardness, and his excessive and inordinate coldness, made a contrast that, added to her brogue, which was broad, kept me in a grin irrepressible.

In the afternoon we had also Mr. Wallace, the attorney general, a most squat and squab looking man. In the evening, when the Irish ladies, the Perkinses, Lambarts, and Sir Philip, had gone, Mrs. Thrale walked out with Mr. Wallace, whom she had some business to talk over with; and then, when only Miss Owen, Miss T., and I remained, Mr. Crutchley, after repeatedly addressing me, and gaining pretty dry answers, called out suddenly,

“Why, Miss Burney! why, what's the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Why, are you stricken, or smitten, or ill?”

“None of the three.”

“Oh, then, you are setting down all these Irish folks.”

“No, indeed; I don't think them worth the trouble.”

“Oh, but I am sure you are; only I interrupted you.”

I went on no further with the argument, and Miss Thrale proposed our walking out to meet her mother. We all agreed and Mr. Crutchley would not be satisfied without walking near me, though I really had no patience to talk with him, and wished him at Jericho.

“What's the matter?” said he; “have you had a quarrel?”

“_No_.”

“Are you affronted?”

Not a word. Then again he called to Miss Thrale--

“Why, Queeny--why, she's quite in a rage! What have you done to her?”

I still sulked on, vexed to be teased; but, though with a gaiety that showed he had no suspicion of the cause, he grew more and more urgent, trying every means to make me tell him what was the matter, till at last, much provoked, I said--

“I must be strangely in want of a confidant, indeed, to take you for one!”

“Why, what an insolent speech!” cried he, half serious and half laughing, but casting up his eyes and hands with astonishment. He then let me be quiet some time,--but in a few minutes renewed his inquiries, with added eagerness, begging me to tell him if nobody else.

A likely matter! thought I; nor did I scruple to tell him, when forced to answer, that no one had such little chance of success in such a request.

“Why so?” cried he; “for I am the best person in the world to trust with a secret, as I always forget it.”

He continued working at me till we joined Mrs. Thrale and the attorney-general. And then Miss Thrale, stimulated by him, came to inquire if I had really taken anything amiss of her. “No,” I assured her.

“Is it of me, then?” cried Mr. Crutchley, as if sure I should say no; but I made no other answer than to desire him to desist questioning me....

He then grew quite violent, and at last went on with his questions till, by being quite silent, he could no longer doubt who it was. He seemed then wholly amazed, and entreated to know what he had done; but I tried only to avoid him.

Soon after the attorney-general took his leave, during which ceremony Mr. Crutchley, coming behind me, exclaimed,--

“Who'd think of this creature's having any venom in her.”

“Oh, yes,” answered I, “when she's provoked.”

“But have I provoked you?”

Again I got off. Taking Miss Thrale by the arm, we hurried away, leaving him with Mrs. Thrale and Miss Owen.

He was presently, however, with us again; and when he came to my side and found me really trying to talk of other matters with Miss Thrale, and avoid him, he called out,

“Upon my life, this is too bad! Do tell me, Miss Burney, what is the matter? If you won't, I protest I'll call Mrs. Thrale, and make her work at you herself.”

“I assure you,” answered I, “that it will be to no purpose for I must offend myself by telling it, and therefore I shall mention it to nobody.”

“But what in the world have I done?”

“Nothing; you have done nothing.”

“What have I said, then? Only let me beg your pardon, only let me know what it is, that I may beg your pardon.”

I then took up the teasing myself, and quite insisted upon his leaving us, and joining Mrs. Thrale. He begged me to tell Miss Thrale, and let her mediate, and entreated her to be his agent; which, in order to get rid of him, she promised; and he then slackened his pace, though very reluctantly, while we quickened ours. He was, however, which I very little expected, too uneasy to stay long away; and when we had walked on quite out of hearing of Mrs. Thrale and Miss Owen, he suddenly galloped after us.

“How odd it is of you,” said Miss Thrale, “to come and intrude yourself in this manner upon anybody that tries so to avoid you!”

“Have you done anything for me?” cried he. “I don't believe you have said a word.”

“Not I, truly!” answered she; “if I can keep my own self, out of scrapes, it's all I can pretend to.”

“Well, but do tell me, Miss Burney,--pray tell me! indeed, this is quite too bad; I sha'n't have a wink of sleep all night! If I have offended you, I am very sorry indeed; but I am sure I did not mean--”

“No, sir!” interrupted I, “I don't suppose you did mean to offend me, nor do I know why you should. I expect from you neither good nor ill,--civility I think myself entitled to, and that is all I have any desire for.”

“Good heaven!” exclaimed he. “Tell me, however, but what it is, and if I have said any thing unguardedly, I am extremely sorry, and I most sincerely beg your pardon. If you would tell me, I am sure I could explain it off, because I am sure it has been done undesignedly.”

“No, it does not admit of any explanation; so pray don't mention it any more.”

“Only tell me what part of the day it was.”

Whether this unconsciousness was real, or only to draw me in so that he might come to the point, and make his apology with greater ease, I know not; but I assured him it was in vain he asked, and again desired him to puzzle himself with no further recollections.

“Oh,” cried he, “but I shall think of every thing I have ever said to you for this half year. I am sure, whatever it was, it must have been unmeant and unguarded.”

“That, Sir, I never doubted; and probably you thought me hard enough to hear any thing without minding it.”

“Good heaven, Miss Burney! why, there is nobody I would not sooner offend,--nobody in the world! Queeny knows it. If Queeny would speak, she could tell you so. Is it not true, Miss Thrale?”

“I shall say nothing about it; if I can keep my own neck out of the collar, it's enough for me.”

“But won't it plead something for me that you are sure, and must be sure, it was by blunder, and not design?... I beg you will think no more of it. I--I believe I know what it is; and, indeed, I was far from meaning to give you the smallest offence, and I most earnestly beg your pardon. There is nothing I would not do to assure you how sorry I am. But I hope it will be all over by the time the candles come. I shall look to see, and I hope--I beg--you will have the same countenance again.”

I now felt really appeased, and so I told him.

We then talked of other matters till we reached home, though it was not without difficulty I could even yet keep him quiet. I see that Mr. Crutchley, though of a cold and proud disposition, is generous, amiable, and delicate, and, when not touched upon the tender string of gallantry, concerning which he piques himself upon invariable hardness and immoveability, his sentiments are not merely just, but refined.

TOO MUCH OF MANY THINGS.

_Sunday._--We had Mr. and Mrs. Davenant here. They are very lively and agreeable, and I like them more' and more. Mrs. Davenant is one of the saucy women of the ton, indeed; but she has good parts, and is gay and entertaining; and her sposo, who passionately adores her, though five years her junior, is one of the best-tempered and most pleasant-charactered young men imaginable....

“Mrs. Davenant is very agreeable,” said I to Mr. Crutchley, “I like her much. Don't you?”

“Yes, very much,” said he; “she is lively and entertaining;” and then a moment after, “'Tis wonderful,” he exclaimed, “that such a thing as that can captivate a man!”

“Nay,” cried I, “nobody more, for her husband quite adores her.”

“So I find,” said he; “and Mrs. Thrale says men in general like her.”

“They certainly do,” cried I, “and all the oddity is in you who do not, not in them who do.”

“May be so,” answered he, “but it don't do for me, indeed.”

We then came to two gates, and there I stopped short, to wait till they joined us; and Mr. Crutchley, turning about and looking at Mrs. Davenant, as she came forward, said, rather in a muttering voice, and to himself than to me, “What a thing for an attachment! No, no, it would not do for me!--too much glare! too much flippancy! too much hoop! too much gauze! too much slipper! too much neck! Oh, hide it! hide it! muffle it up! muffle it up! If it is but in a fur cloak, I am for muffling it all up!”

A “POOR WRETCH OF A PAINTER.”

I had new specimens to-day of the oddities of Mr. Crutchley, whom I do not yet quite understand, though I have seen so much of him. In the course of our walks to-day we chanced, at one time, to be somewhat before the rest of the company, and soon got into a very serious conversation; though we began it by his relating a most ludicrous incident which had happened to him last winter.

There is a certain poor wretch of a villainous painter, one Mr. Lowe,[137] who is in some measure under Dr. Johnson's protection, and whom, therefore, he recommends to all the people he thinks can afford to sit for their pictures. Among these he made Mr. Seward very readily, and then applied to Mr. Crutchley.

“But now,” said Mr. Crutchley, as he told me the circumstance, “I have not a notion of sitting for my picture,--for who wants it? I may as well give the man the money without; but no, they all said that would not do so well, and Dr. Johnson asked me to give him my picture. 'And I assure you, sir,' says he, 'I shall put it in very good company, for I have portraits of some very respectable people in my dining-room.' 'Ay, sir,' says I, 'that's sufficient reason why you should not have mine, for I am sure it has no business in such society.' So then Mrs. Thrale asked me to give it to her. 'Ay sure, ma'am,' says I, 'you do me great honour; but pray, first, will you do me the favour to tell me what door you intend to put it behind?' However, after all I could say in opposition, I was obliged to go to the painter's. And I found him in such a condition! a room all dirt and filth, brats squalling and wrangling, up two pair of stairs, and a closet, of which the door was open, that Seward well said was quite Pandora's box--it was the repository of all the nastiness, and stench, and filth, and food, and drink, and---oh, it was too bad to be borne! and 'Oh!' says I, 'Mr. Lowe, I beg your pardon for running away, but I have just recollected another engagement;' so I poked the three guineas in his hand, and told him I would come again another time, and then ran out of the house with all my might.”

DR. JOHNSON IN A RAGE.

_June.--Wednesday_--We had a terrible noisy day. Mr. and Mrs. Cator came to dinner, and brought with them Miss Collison, a niece. Mrs. Nesbitt was also here, and Mr. Pepys.[138]

The long war which has been proclaimed among the wits concerning Lord Lyttelton's “Life,” by Dr. Johnson, and which a whole tribe of “blues,” with Mrs. Montagu at their head, have vowed to execrate and revenge, now broke out with all the fury of the first actual hostilities, stimulated by long concerted schemes and much spiteful information. Mr. Pepys, Dr. Johnson well knew, was one of Mrs. Montagu's steadiest abettors; and, therefore, as he had some time determined to defend himself with the first of them he met, this day he fell the sacrifice to his wrath.

In a long tete-a-tete which I accidentally had with Mr. Pepys before the company was assembled, he told me his apprehensions of an attack, and entreated me earnestly to endeavour to prevent it; modestly avowing he was no antagonist for Dr. Johnson; and yet declaring his personal friendship for Lord Lyttelton made him so much hurt by the “Life,” that he feared he could not discuss the matter without a quarrel, which, especially in the house of Mrs. Thrale, he wished to avoid.

It was, however, utterly impossible for me to serve him. I could have stopped Mrs. Thrale with ease, and Mr. Seward with a hint, had either of them begun the subject; but, unfortunately, in the middle of dinner, it was begun by Dr. Johnson himself, to oppose whom, especially as he spoke with great anger, would have been madness and folly.

Never before have I seen Dr. Johnson speak with so much passion.

“Mr. Pepys,” he cried, in a voice the most enraged, “I understand you are offended by my 'Life of Lord Lyttelton.' What is it you have to say against it? Come forth, man here am I, ready to answer any charge you can bring!”

“No, sir,” cried Mr. Pepys, “not at present; I must beg leave to decline the subject. I told Miss Burney before dinner that I hoped it would not be started.”