Fanny Burney's Diary and Letters

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 gentlemanlike 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.  I sneaked away.  When we came upstairs, 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 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 Johnson reading, and Mrs. Thrale in close conference with Mr. Murphy.

“If I,” said Mr. Murphy, looking very archly, “had writte 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; “you think so too?”

“Yes, indeed; I thought so while I was reading it; it struc me repeatedly.”

” Don’t look at me, Miss Burney,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “for this is no doing of mine.  Well, I wonder what Miss Burney will do twenty years hence, when she can blush no more; for now she can never hear the name of her book.”

Mr. M.-Nay, I name no book; at least no author: how can I, for I don’t know the author; there is no name given to it: I only say, whoever wrote that book ought to write a comedy.  Dr. Johnson might write it for aught I know.

F. B.-Oh, yes!

Mr. M.-Nay, I have often told him he does not know his own strength, or he would write a comedy, and so I think.

Dr. j. (laughing)-Suppose Burney and I begin together?

Mr. M.-Ah, I wish you would!  I wish you would Beaumont and Fletcher us!

F.B.-My father asked me, this morning, how my head stood.  If he should have asked me this evening, I don’t know what answer I must have made.

Mr. M.-I have no wish to turn anybody’s head: I speak what I really think;–comedy is the forte of that book.  I laughed over it most violently: and if the author–I won’t say who [all the time looking away from me]–will write a comedy I will most readily, and with great pleasure, give any advice or assistance in my power.

“Well, now you are a sweet man!” cried Mrs. Thrale, who looked ready to kiss him.  “Did not I tell you, Miss Burney, that Mr. Murphy was the man?”

Mr. M.-All I can do, I shall be very happy to do; and at least I will undertake to say I can tell what the sovereigns of the upper gallery will bear: for they are the most formidable part of an audience.  I have had so much experience in this sort of work, that I believe I can always tell what will be hissed at least.  And if Miss Burney will write, and will show me–

.Dr. J.- Come, come, have done with this now; why should you overpower her?  Let’s have no more of it.  I don’t mean to dissent from what you say; I think well of it, and approve of it; but you have said enough of it.

Mr. Murphy, who equally loves and reverences Dr. Johnson, instantly changed the subject.

Yesterday, at night, I asked Dr. Johnson if he would permit me to take a great liberty with him?  He assented with the most encouraging smile.  And then I said,

“I believe, sir, you heard part of what passed between Mr. Murphy and me the other evening, concerning-a a comedy.  Now, if I should make such an attempt, would you be so good as to allow me, any time before Michaelmas, to put it in the coach, for you to look over as you go to town?”

“To be sure, my dear!–What, have you begun a comedy then?

I told him how the affair stood.  He then gave me advice which just accorded with my wishes, viz., not to make known that I had any such intention; to keep my own counsel; not to whisper even the name of it; to raise no expectations, which were always prejudicial, and finally, to have it performed while the town knew nothing of whose it was.  I readily assured him of my hearty concurrence in his opinion; but he somewhat distressed me when I told him that Mr. Murphy must be in my confidence, as he had offered his services, by desiring he might be the last to see it.

What I shall do, I know not, for he has, himself, begged to be the first.  Mrs. Thrale, however, shall guide me between them. He spoke highly of Mr. Murphy, too, for he really loves him.  He said he would not have it in the coach, but I should read it to him; however, I could sooner drown or hang!

When I would have offered some apology for the attempt, he stopt me, and desired I would never make any.

“For,” said he, “if it succeeds, it makes its own apology, if not—”

“ifnot,” quoth I, “I cannot do worse than Dr. Goldsmith, when his play failed,–go home and cry”

He laughed, but told me, repeatedly (I mean twice, which, for him, is very remarkable), that I might depend upon all the service in his power; and, he added, it would be well to make Murphy the last judge, ” for he knows the stage,” he said, and I am quite ignorant of it.”

Afterwards, grasping my hand with the most affectionate warmth, he said,

“I wish you success! I wish you well ! my dear little Burney !”

When, at length, I told him I could stay no longer, and bid him good night, he said, “There is none like you, my dear little Burney ! there is none like you !–good night, my darling!”

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, can not 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 at it; Mr. Thrale betted a guinea the motion would not pass, and Sir Philip, that he should divide a hundred and fifty upon it.

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 bung 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.”

Monday was the day for our great party; and the Doctor came home, at Mrs Thrale’s request, to meet them.
The party consisted of Mr. C–, who was formerly a timber-merchant, but having amassed a fortune of one million of
pounds, he has left off business.  He is a good-natured busy sort of man.

Mrs. C–, his lady, a sort of Mrs. Nobody.

Mr. N–, another rich business leaver-off.

Mrs. N–, his lady; a pretty sort of woman, who was formerly a pupil of Dr. Hawkesworth.  I had a great deal of talk with her about him, and about my favourite miss Kinnaird, whom she knew very well.

Mr. George and Mr. Thomas N–, her sons-in-law.

Mr. R—, of whom I know nothing but that he married into MrThrale’s family.

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 of mingled dignity and haughtiness, both of which wear off in conversation. She dresses very youthful 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 of the uncontrolled freedom of speech which Dr. Johnson exercised 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 the sort of face I like not.  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 of it.’”

Miss Moss, a pretty girl, who played and sung, to the great fatigue of Mrs. Thrale; Mr. Rose Fuller, Mr. Embry, Mr. Seward, Dr. Johnson, the three Thrales, and myself, close the party.

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 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 MrsThrale, who stood close to us, and Mr. Embry, who was lounging on a sofa at the furthest 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 sha’n't part with Miss Burney!”

And he held me by both hands; and when MrsThrale went, he drew me a chair himself facing the window, close to his own; and thus t`ete-`a-t`ete we continued almost all the evening.  I say t`ete-`a-t`ete, 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 at 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, I assure you!

The P– family came in to tea.  When they were gone Mrs. Thrale complained that she was quite worn out with that tiresome silly woman Mrs. P–, who had talked of her family and affairs till she was sick to death of hearing her.

“Madam,” said Dr. Johnson, “why do you blame the woman for the only sensible thing she could 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?”

Monday, Sept. 21.-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 constantly calls out, “Don’t you go, little Burney!”

Last night, when we were talking of compliments and of 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 scoldings from YOU!

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 instructing, always overcame the vexation of being found fault with.  And so 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 Mrs. 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.

Wednesday.-We could not prevail with Dr. Johnson to stay till Mrs. Montagu arrived, though, by appointment, she came very early.  She and Miss Gregory came by one o’clock.

There was no party to meet her. She is middle-sized, very thin, and looks infirm ; she has a sensible and penetrating countenance, and the air and manner of a woman accustomed to being distinguished, and of great parts.  Dr. Johnson, who agrees in this, told us that a Mrs.  Hervey, of his acquaintance, says she can remember Mrs. Montagu trying for this same air and manner.  Mr. Crisp has said the same: however, nobody can now impartially see her, and not confess that she has extremely well succeeded.

My expectations, which were compounded of the praise of Mrs. Thrale, and the abuse of Mr. Crisp, were most exactly, answered, for I thought her in a medium way.

Miss Gregory is a fine young woman, and seems gentle and well-bred. A bustle with the dog Presto–Mrs. Thrale’s favourite–at the entrance of these ladies into the library, prevented any formal reception; but as soon as Mrs. Montagu heard my name, she inquired very civilly after my father, and made many speeches concerning a volume of Linguet, which she has lost; but she hopes soon to be able to replace it.  I am sure he is very high in her favour, because she did me the honour of addressing herself to me three or four times.

But my ease and tranquillity were soon disturbed: for she had not been in the room more than ten minutes, ere, turning to Mrs. Thrale, she said, “Oh, ma’am–but your ‘Evelina’ -I have not yet got it.  I sent for it, but the bookseller had it not.  However, I will certainly have it.”

“Ay, I hope so,” answered Mrs. Thrale, “and I hope you Will like it too; for ’tis a book to be liked.”

I began now a vehement nose-blowing, for the benefit of handkerchiefing my face.

“I hope though,” said Mrs. Montagu, drily, “it is not in verse?  I can read anything in prose, but I have a great dread of a long story in verse.”

“No, ma’am, no; ’tis all in prose, I assure you.  ‘Tis a novel; and an exceeding–but it does nothing good to be praised too much, so I will say nothing more about it: only this, that Mr. Burke sat up all night to read it.”

” Indeed?  Well, I propose myself great pleasure from it and I am gratified by hearing it is written by a woman.”

“And Sir Joshua Reynolds,” continued Mrs. Thrale, “has been offering fifty pounds to know the author.”

“Well, I will have it to read on my journey; I am going to Berkshire, and it shall be my travelling book.”

” No, ma’am if you please you shall have it now.  Queeny, do look it for Mrs. Montagu, and let it be put in her carriage, and go to town with her.”

Miss Thrale rose to look for it, and involuntarily I rose too, intending to walk off, for my situation was inexpressibly awkward; but then I recollected that if I went away, it might seem like giving Mrs. Thrale leave and opportunity to tell my tale, and therefore I stopped at a distant window, where I busied myself in contemplating the poultry.

“And Dr. Johnson, ma’am,” added my kind puffer, “says Fielding never wrote so well–never wrote equal to this book; he
says it is a better picture of life and manners than is to be found anywhere in Fielding.”

“Indeed?” cried Mrs. Montagu, surprised; “that I did not expect, for I have been informed it is the work of a young lady and therefore, though I expected a very pretty book, I supposed it to be a work of mere imagination, and the name I thought attractive; but life and manners I never dreamt of finding.”

“Well, ma’am, what I tell you is literally true; and for my part, I am never better pleased than when good girls write clever books–and that this is clever–But all this time we are killing Miss Burney, who wrote the book herself.”

What a clap of thunder was this !-the last thing in the world I should have expected before my face?  I know not what bewitched Mrs. Thrale, but this was carrying the jest further than ever.  All retenu being now at an end, I fairly and abruptly took to my heels, and ran out of the room with the utmost trepidation, amidst astonished exclamations from Mrs, Montagu and Miss Gregory.

I was horribly disconcerted, but I am now so irrecoverably in for it, that I begin to leave off reproaches and expostulations; indeed, they have very little availed me while they might have been of service, but now they would pass for mere parade and affectation; and therefore since they can do no good, I gulp them down.  I find them, indeed, somewhat hard of digestion, but they must make their own way as well as they can.

I determined not to make my appearance again till dinner was upon table; yet I could neither read nor write, nor indeed do any thing but consider the new situation in life into which I am thus hurried–I had almost said forced–and if I had, methinks it would be no untruth.

Miss Thrale came laughing up after me, and tried to persuade me to return.  She was mightily diverted all the morning, and came to me with repeated messages of summons to attend the company, but I could not brave it again into the roon’, and therefore entreated her to say I was finishing a letter.  Yet I was sorry to lose so much of Mrs. Montagu.

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 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. Montagu, looking well pleased; “or 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 snapping 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.”

hhow 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 already, read it, because you cannot speak of it with a full conviction of its merit: which, I believe, when you have read it, you will have 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……

When they were gone, how did Dr. Johnson astonish me by asking if I had observed what an ugly cap Miss Gregory had on?  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’”……

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, ‘I want her to go on in 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.”

Mrs. Thrale continued:

“‘Well, but `a propos,’ said Mrs. Montagu, ‘if Miss Burney does write a play, I beg I may know of it; or, if she thinks proper, see it; and all my influence is at her service.  We shall all be glad to assist in spreading the fame of Miss Burney.’”

I tremble for what all this will end in.  I verily think I had best stop where I am, and never again attempt writing: for after so much honour, so much success–how shall I bear a downfall?

I was looking over the ” Life of Cowley,” which Dr. Johnson had himself given me to read, at the same time that he gave to Mrs.Thrale that of Waller.’  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!  Did you ever read Norris’s “Theory of Love?”

“No, sir,” said I, laughing, yet staring a little.

Dr. J.-It is well 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; every body 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 tomorrow.  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 the 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.

At tea-time the subject turned upon the domestic economy of Dr. Johnson’s 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?

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 a place to go to, their animmosity 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 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 hav no jack.

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

Dr. J.-Small joints, I believe, they manage with a string, larger are done at the tavern.  I have some thoughts (with 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.