"I can't recollect now where that is; but for my part, I really cannot bear to see such sights. And then out come the white handkerchiefs, and all their pretty eyes are wiping, and then come poison and daggers, and all that kind of thing,--O ma'am, 'tis too much; but yet the fair tender hearts, the pretty little females, all like it!"

This speech, word for word, I have already heard from him literally four times.

When Mr. Garrick was mentioned, he honoured him with much the same style of compliment as he had done Sir Joshua Reynolds.

"Ay, ay," said he, "that Garrick was another of those fellows that people run mad about. Ma'am, 'tis a shaine to think of such things! an actor living like a person of quality scandalous! I vow, scandalous!"

"Well,--commend me to Mr. B----y!" cried Mrs. Thrale "for he is your only man to put down all the people that everybody else sets up."

"Why, ma'am," answered he, "I like all these people very well in their proper places; but to see such a set of poor beings living like persons of quality,--'tis preposterous! common sense, madam, common sense is against that kind of thing. As to Garrick, he was a very good mimic, an entertaining fellow enough, and all that kind of thing---but for an actor to live like a person of quality--oh, scandalous!"

Some time after the musical tribe was mentioned. He was at cards at the time with Mr. Selwyn, Dr. Delap, and Mr. Thrale, while we "fair females," as he always calls us, were speaking of Agujari.[114] He constrained himself from flying out as long as he was able; but upon our mentioning her having fifty pounds a song, he suddenly, in a great rage, called out, "Catgut and rosin! ma'am, 'tis scandalous!"...

The other day, at dinner, the subject was married life, and among various husbands and wives Lord L-- being mentioned, Mr. B----y p.r.o.nounced his panegyric, and called him his friend. Mr. Selwyn, though with much gentleness, differed from him in opinion, and declared he could not think well of him, as he knew his lady, who was an amiable woman, was used very ill by him.

"How, sir?" cried Mr. B----y.

"I have known him," answered Mr. Selwyn, "frequently pinch her till she has been ready to cry with pain, though she has endeavoured to prevent its being observed."

"And I," said Mrs. Thrale, "know that he pulled her nose, in his frantic brutality, till he broke-some of the vessels of it, and when she was dying she still found the torture he had given her by it so great, that it was one of her last complaints."

The general, who is all for love and gallantry, far from attempting to vindicate his friend, quite swelled with indignation on this account, and, after a pause, big with anger, exclaimed,

"Wretched doings, sir, wretched doings!"

"Nay, I have known him," added Mr. Selwyn, "insist upon handing her to her carriage, and then, with an affected kindness, pretend to kiss her hand, instead of which he has almost bit a piece out of it."

"Pitiful!--pitiful! sir," cried the General, "I know nothing more shabby!"

"He was equally inhuman to his daughter," said Mrs. Thrale, "for, in one of his rages, he almost throttled her."

"Wretched doings!" again exclaimed Mr. B----y, "what! cruel to a fair female! Oh fie! fie! fie!--a fellow who can be cruel to females and children, or animals, must be a pitiful fellow indeed. I wish we had had him here in the sea. I should like to have had him stripped, and that kind of thing, and been well banged by ten of our clippers here with a cat-o'-nine-tails. Cruel to a fair female? Oh fie! fie! fie!"

I know not how this may read, but I a.s.sure you its sound was ludicrous enough.

However, I have never yet told you his most favourite story, though we have regularly heard it three or four times a day--and this is about his health.

"Some years ago," he says,--"let's see, how many? in the year '71,--ay, '71, '72--thereabouts--I was taken very ill, and, by ill-luck, I was persuaded to ask advice of one of these Dr. Gallipots:--oh, how I hate them all! Sir, they are the vilest pick-pockets--know nothing, sir!

nothing in the world! poor ignorant mortals! and then they pretend--In short, sir, I hate them all!--I have suffered so much by them, sir--lost four years of the happiness of my life--let's see, '71, '72, '73, '74--ay, four years, sir!--mistook my case, sir!--and all that kind of thing. Why, sir, my feet swelled as big as two horses' heads! I vow I will never consult one of these Dr. Gallipot fellows again! lost me, sir, four years of the happiness of my life!--why, I grew quite an object!---you would hardly have known me!--lost all the calves of my legs!--had not an ounce of flesh left!--and as to the rouge--why, my face was the colour of that candle!--those deuced Gallipot fellows!--why, they robbed me of four years--let me see, ay, '71, '72--"

And then it was all given again!

We had a large party of gentlemen to dinner. Among them was Mr.

Hamilton, commonly called Single-speech Hamilton, from having made one remarkable speech in the House of Commons against government, and receiving some douceur to be silent ever after. This Mr. Hamilton is extremely tall and handsome; has an air of haughty and fashionable superiority; is intelligent, dry, sarcastic, and clever. I should have received much pleasure from his conversational powers, had I not previously been prejudiced against him, by hearing that he is infinitely artful, double, and crafty.

The dinner conversation was too general to be well remembered; neither, indeed, shall I attempt more than partial sc.r.a.ps relating to matters of what pa.s.sed when we adjourned to tea.

Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Selwyn, Mr. Tidy, and Mr. Thrale seated themselves to whist; the rest looked on: but the General, as he always does, took up the newspaper, and, with various comments, made aloud, as he went on reading to himself, diverted the whole company. Now he would cry, "Strange! strange that!"--presently, "What stuff! I don't believe a word of it!"--a little after, "Mr. Bate,[115] I wish your ears were cropped!"--then, "Ha! ha! ha! funnibus! funnibus! indeed!"--and, at last, in a great rage, he exclaimed, "What a fellow is this, to presume to arraign the conduct of persons of quality!"

Having diverted himself and us in this manner, till he had read every column methodically through, he began all over again, and presently called out, "Ha! ha! here's a pretty thing!" and then, in a plaintive voice, languished out some wretched verses.

SECT. 3 (1780-1781)

A SEASON AT BATH: MR. THRALE'S DEATH.

[There is a long hiatus here in the published "Diary," and upon its resumption we find f.a.n.n.y at Bath with the Thrales, in April, 1780; but from her letters to Mr. Crisp we learn that she returned, at Christmas, 1779, to her father's house in St. Martin's-street, and spent there the intervening period, frequently visiting, and being visited by, the Thrales. Bath was at this time the most fashionable summer resort in the kingdom. f.a.n.n.y had been there before, in 1776 or 1777, but of that visit no account remains to us. She has recorded, however, in "Evelina," her general impression of the place. "The charming city of Bath answered all my expectations. The Crescent, the prospect from it, and the elegant symmetry of the Circus, delighted me. The Parades, I own, rather disappointed me; one of them is scarce preferable to some of the best paved streets in London; and the other, though it affords a beautiful prospect, a charming view of Prior-park and of the Avon, yet wanted something in itself of more striking elegance than a mere broad pavement, to satisfy the ideas I had formed of it.

"At the pump-room, I was amazed at the public exhibition of the ladies in the bath; it is true, their heads are covered with bonnets; but the very idea of being seen, in such a situation, by whoever pleases to look, is indelicate."

We may be sure f.a.n.n.y never exhibited herself in such a situation. Of her drinking the waters, even, there is no mention in her Bath journal Of 1780. But the journal records a continual succession of visits and diversions, and keeps us entertained with the most life-like and amusing descriptions of Bath society. The house occupied by Mr.

Thrale and his party was at the corner of the South-parade, and f.a.n.n.y's room commanded that beautiful prospect of Prior- park and the Avon which had charmed Evelina.

Amid all these gaieties there are glimpses of more serious scenes. The Gordon riots took place in June, 1780, and the alarm they occasioned spread far and wide over the country.

The present section, too, closes with a melancholy incident-- the death of Mr. Thrale. He had been long ailing, and had had a paralytic stroke in 1779. He died on the 4th of April, 1781. Probably no one felt the loss more keenly than Thrale's old friend, 'Dr. Johnson, in whose "Prayers and Meditations" occurs the following touching entry:--

"Good Friday, 13th April, 1781. On Wednesday, 11th, was buried my dear friend Thrale, who died on Wednesday, 4th; and with him were buried many of my hopes and pleasures.

About five, I think, on Wednesday morning he expired. I felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect or benignity."--ED.]

A YOUTHFUL PRODIGY.

_Bath, April 7_--The journey was very comfortable; Mr. Thrale was charmingly well and in very good spirits, and Mrs. Thrale must be charming, well or ill. We only went to Maidenhead Bridge the first night, where I found the caution given me by Mr. Smelt,[116] of not attempting to travel near Windsor on a hunting-day, was a very necessary one, as we were with difficulty accommodated even the day after the hunt; several stragglers remaining at all the inns, and we heard of nothing but the king and royal huntsmen and huntswomen. The second day we slept at Speen Hill, and the third day we reached Devizes.

And here Mrs. Thrale and I were much pleased with our hostess, Mrs.

Laurence, who seemed something above her station in her inn. While we were at cards before supper, we were much surprised by the sounds of a pianoforte. I jumped up, and ran to listen whence it proceeded. I found it came from the next room, where the overture to the "Buona Figliuola"

was performing. The playing was very decent, but as the music was not quite new to me, my curiosity was not whole ages in satisfying, and therefore I returned to finish the rubber.

Don't I begin to talk in an old-cattish manner of cards?

Well, another deal was hardly played, ere we heard the sound of a voice, and out I ran again. The singing, however, detained me not long, and so back I whisked; but the performance, however indifferent in itself yet'

surprised us at the Bear however indifferent in itself, yet surprised us at Devizes, and therefore Mrs. Thrale determined to know from whom it came. Accordingly, she tapped at the door. A very handsome girl, about thirteen years old, with fine dark hair upon a finely-formed forehead, opened it. Mrs. Thrale made an apology for her intrusion, but the poor girl blushed and retreated into a corner of the room: another girl, however, advanced, and obligingly and gracefully invited us in and gave us all chairs. She was just sixteen extremely pretty, and with a countenance better than her features, though those were also very good.

Mrs. Thrale made her many compliments, which she received with a mingled modesty and pleasure, both becoming and interesting. She was, indeed, a sweetly pleasing girl.

We found they were both daughters of our hostess, and born and bred at Devizes. We were extremely pleased with them, and made them a long visit, which I wished to have been longer. But though those pretty girls struck us so much, the wonder of the family was yet to be produced. This was their brother, a most lovely boy of ten years of age who seems to be not merely the wonder of their family, but of the times, for his astonishing skill in drawing.[117] They protest he has never had any instruction, yet showed us some of his productions that were really beautiful. Those that were copies were delightful, those of his own composition amazing, though far inferior. I was equally struck with the boy and his works.

We found that he had been taken to town, and that all the painters had been very kind to him, and Sir Joshua Reynolds had p.r.o.nounced him, the mother said, the most promising genius he had ever met with. Mr. h.o.a.re has been so charmed with this sweet boy's drawings that he intends sending him to Italy with his own son.

This house was full of books, as well as paintings, drawings, and music and all the family seem not only ingenious and industrious, but amiable; added to which, they are strikingly handsome.