Complete Works of Frances Burney
Page 685
Dr. Johnson has made resolutions exactly similar to yours, and in general adheres to them with strictness, but the old Adam, as you say, stands in his way, as well as in his neighbours”. I wish I could pit you against each other for the sake of both. Yet he professes an aversion to you, because he says he is sure you are very much in his way with me! however, I believe you would neither of you retain much aversion if you had a fair meeting. Do you know I have been writing to Dr. Johnson! I tremble to mention it; but he sent a message in a letter to Mrs. Thrale, to wonder why his pupils did not write to him, and to hope they did not forget him: Miss Thrale, therefore, wrote a letter immediately, and I added only this little postscript:.
“P.S. —— Dr. Johnson’s other pupil a little longs to add a few lines to this 1etter, — but knows too well that all she has to say might be comprised in signing herself his obliged and most obedient servant, F. B.: so that’s better than a long rigmarole about nothing.”
Thursday morning, April 13th. —
I am now come to the present time, and will try, however brief, to be tolerably punctual.
Dr. Johnson has sent a bitter reproach to Mrs. Thrale of my not writing to him, for he has not yet received a scrawl I have sent him. He says Dr. Barnard, the provost of Eton, has been singing the praises of my book, and that old Dr. Lawrence has read it through three times within this last month! I am afraid he will pass for being superannuated for his pains!
“But don’t tell Burney this,” adds Dr. Johnson, “because she will not write to me, and values me no more than if I were a Branghton!”
Place: Bath, May 28. . . .
I found my dear Mrs. Thrale so involved in business, electioneering, canvassing, and letter-writing, that after our first embrassades, we hardly exchanged a word till we got into the chaise next morning.
Dr. Johnson, however, who was with her, received me even joyfully; and, making me sit by him, began a gay and spirited conversation, which he kept up till we parted, though in the midst of all this bustle.
The next morning we rose at four o’clock, and when we came downstairs, to our great surprise, found Dr. Johnson waiting to receive and breakfast with us; though the night before he had taken leave of us, and given me the most cordial and warm assurances of the love he has for me, which I do indeed believe to be as sincere as I can wish; and I failed not to tell him the affectionate respect with which I return it; though, as well as I remember, we never came to this open declaration before.
We therefore drank our coffee with him, and then he handed us both into the chaise. He meant to have followed us to Bath, but Mrs. Thrale discouraged him, from a firm persuasion that he would be soon very horribly wearied of a Bath life: an opinion in which I heartily join.
I have not seen Dr. Johnson since the day you left me, when he came hither, and met Mrs. Ord, Mr. Hoole, Mrs. Reynolds, Baretti, the Paradises, Pepys, Castles, Dr. Dunbar, and some others; and then he was in high spirits and good humour, talked all the talk, affronted nobody, and delighted everybody. I never saw him more sweet, nor better attended to by his audience. I have not been able to wait upon him since, nor, indeed, upon anybody, for we have not spent one evening alone since my return.
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 that 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.”
Well — mal a propos to all this — Dr. Johnson, who expects nothing but what is good, and swallows nothing but what he likes, has delighted me with another volume of his Lives, — that which contains Blackmore, Congreve, etc., which he tells me you have had! Oh what a writer he is! what instruction, spirit, intelligence, and vigour in almost every paragraph! Addison I think equal to any in the former batch; but he is rather too hard upon Prior, and makes Gay, I think, too insignificant. Some of the little poems of Prior seem to me as charming as any little poems can be; and Gay’s pastorals I had hoped to have seen praised more liberally.
Dr. Johnson, you know, came with my dear father the Thursday after our return.
You cannot, I think, have been surprised that I gave up my plan of going to town immediately: indeed I had no heart to leave either Mr. Thrale in a state so precarious, or his dear wife in an agitation of mind hardly short of a fever.
Things now went on tolerably smooth, and Miss Thrale and I renewed our Latin exercises with Dr. Johnson, and with great Eclat of praise. At another time I could have written much of him and of Mr. Seward, for many very good conversations past; but now I have almost forgot all about them.
Dr. Johnson is very gay and sociable and comfortable, and quite as kind to me as ever; and says the Bodleian librarian has but done his duty, and that when he goes to Oxford, he will write my name in the books, my age when I writ them, and sign the whole with his own; “and then,” he says, “the world may know that we
“So mixed our studies, and so joined our fame” For we shall go down hand in hand to posterity!”
Mrs. Thrale, in cutting some fruit, had cut her finger, and asked me for some black sticking plaster, and as I gave it her out of my pocket-book, she was struck with the beautiful glossiness of the paper of a letter which peeped out of it, and rather waggishly asked me who wrote to me with so much elegant attention?
“Mrs. Gast,” answered I.
“Oh,” cried she, “do pray then let me see her hand.”
I showed it her, and she admired it very justly, and said,
“Do show it to Mr. Crutchley; ’tis a mighty genteel hand indeed.”
I complied, but took it from him as soon as he had looked at it. Indeed, he is the last man in the world to have even desired to read any letter not to himself.
Dr. Johnson now, who, too deaf to hear what was saying, wondered what we were thus handling about, asked an explanation.
“Why, we are all,” said Mrs. Thrale, “admiring the hand of Fanny’s Mr. Crisp’s sister.”
“And mayn’t I admire it too?” cried he.
“Oh yes,” said she; “show it him, Burney.”
I put it in his hand, and he instantly opened and began reading it. Now though there was nothing in it but what must reflect honour upon Mrs. Gast, she had charged me not to show it; and, also, it was so very flattering to me, that I was quite consternated at this proceeding, and called out,
“Sir, it was only to show you the handwriting, and you have seen enough for that.”
“I shall know best myself,” answered he, laughing, “when I have seen enough.”
And he read on. The truth is I am sure he took it for granted they had all read it, for he had not heard a word that had passed.
I then gave Mrs. Thrale a reproachful glance for what she had done, and she jumped up, and calling out,
“So I have done mischief, I see!” and ran out of the room, followed by Queeny. I stayed hovering over the doctor to recover my property . . .
Here Dr. Johnson returned me my letter, with very warm praise of its contents. Mrs. Gast would not only have forgiven me, but have been much delighted had she heard his approbation of all she had written to me.
Place: Streatham, June. —
I found Dr. Johnson in admirable good humour, and our journey hither was extremely pleasant. I thanked him for the last batch of his poets, and we talked them over almost all the way.
Sweet Mrs. Thrale received me with her wonted warmth of affection, but shocked me by her own ill looks, and the increa
sing alteration in her person, which perpetual anxiety and worry have made.. . .
We had a good cheerful day, and in the evening Sir Richard Jebb came; and nothing can I recollect, but that Dr. Johnson forced me to sit on a very small sofa with him, which was hardly large enough for himself; and which would have made a subject for a print by Harry Bunbury that would have diverted all London: ergo, it rejoiceth me that he was not present.
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.
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 I 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.”,
I was quite frightened to hear my own name mentioned in a debate which began so serious!y; but Dr. Johnson made not to this any answer; he repeated his attack and his challenge, and a violent disputation ensued, in which this great but mortal man did, to own the truth, appear unreasonably furious and grossly severe. I never saw him so before, and I heartily hope I never shall again. He has been long provoked, and justly enough, at the sneaking complaints and murmurs of the Lytteltonians; and, therefore, his long-excited wrath, which hitherto had met no object, now burst forth with a vehemence and bitterness almost incredible.
Mr. Pepys meantime never appeared to so much advantage; he preserved his temper, uttered all that belonged merely to himself with modesty, and all that more immediately related to Lord Lyttelton with spirit. Indeed, Dr. Johnson, in the very midst of the dispute, had the candour and liberality to make him a personal compliment by saying,
“Sir, all that you say, while you are vindicating one who cannot thank you, makes me only think better of you than I ever did before. Yet still I think you do me wrong,” etc., etc.
Some time after, in the heat of the argument, he ca!led out,
“The more my Lord Lyttelton is inquired after, the worse he will appear; Mr. Seward has just heard two stories of him, which corroborate all I have related.”
He then desired Mr. Seward to repeat them. Poor Mr. Seward looked almost as frightened as myself at the very mention of his name; but he quietly and immediate!y told the stories, which consisted of fresh instances, from good authorities, of Lord Lyttelton’s illiberal behaviour to Shenstone; and then he flung himself back in his chair and spoke no more during the whole debate, which I am sure he was ready to vote a bore.
One happy circumstance, however, attended the quarrel, which was the presence of Mr. Cator, who would by no means be prevented talking himself, either by reverence for Dr. Johnson, or ignorance of the subject in question; on the contrary, he gave his opinion, quite uncalled, upon everything that was said by either party, and that with an importance and pomposity, yet with an emptiness and verbosity, that rendered the whole dispute, when in his hands, nothing more than ridiculous, and compelled even the disputants themselves, all inflamed as they were, to laugh. To give a specimen — one speech will do for a thousand.
“As to this here question of Lord Lyttelton, I can’t speak to it to the purpose, as I have not read his Life, for I have only read the Life of Pope; I have got the books though, for I sent for them last week, and they came to me on Wednesday, and then I began them; but I have not yet read Lord Lyttelton. Pope I have begun, and that is what I am now reading. But what I have to say about Lord Lyttelton is this here: Mr. Seward says that Lord Lyttelton’s steward dunned Mr. Shenstone for his rent, by which I understand he was a tenant of Lord Lyttelton’s. Well if he was a tenant of Lord Lyttelton’s, why should not he pay his rent?”
Who could contradict this?
When dinner was quite over, and we left the men to their wine, we hoped they would finish the affair; but Dr. Johnson was determined to talk it through, and make a battle of it, though Mr. Pepys tried to be off continually. When they were all summoned to tea, they entered still warm and violent. Mr. Cator had the book in his hand, and was reading the Life of Lyttelton, that he might better, he said, understand the cause, though not a creature cared if he had never heard of it.
Mr. Pepys came up to me and said,
“Just what I had so much wished to avoid! I have been crushed in the very onset.”
I could make him no answer for Dr. Johnson immediately called him off, and harangued and attacked him with a vehemence and continuity that quite concerned both Mrs. Thrale and myself, and that made Mr. Pepys, at last, resolutely silent, however called upon.
This now grew more unpleasant than ever; till Mr. Cator, having some time studied his book, exclaimed,
“What I am now going to say, as I have not yet read the Life of Lord Lyttelton quite through, must be considered as being only said aside, because what I am going to say — —”
“I wish, sir,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “it had been all set aside; here is too much about it, indeed, and I should be very glad to hear no more of it.”
This speech, which she made with great spirit and dignity, had an admirable effect. Everybody was silenced. Mr. Cator, thus interrupted in the midst of his proposition, looked quite amazed; Mr. Pepys was much gratified by the interference; and Dr. Johnson, after a pause, said,
“Well, madam, you shall hear no more about it; yet I will defend myself in every part and in every atom!”
And from this time the subject was wholly dropped. This dear violent Doctor was conscious he had been wrong, and therefore he most candidly bore the reproof.
Mr. Cator, after some evident chagrin at having his speech thus rejected, comforted himself by coming up to Mr. Seward, who was seated next me, to talk to him of the changes of the climates from hot to could in the countries he had visited; and he prated so much, yet said so little, and pronounced his words so vulgarly, that I found it impossible to keep my countenance, and was once, when most unfortunately he addressed himself to me, surprised by him on the full grin. To soften it off as well as I could, I pretended unusual complacency, and instead of recovering my gravity, I continued a most ineffable smile for the whole time he talked, which was indeed no difficult task. Poor Mr. Seward was as much off his guard as myself, having his mouth distended to its fullest extent every other minute. When the leave-taking time arrived, Dr. Johnson called to Mr. Pepys to shake hands, an invitation which was most coldly and forcibly accepted. Mr. Cator made a point of Mrs. Thrale’s dining at his house soon, and she could not be
wholly excused, as she had many transactions with him; but she fixed the day for three weeks hence. They have invited me so often, that I have now promised not to fail making one.
Thursday morning. —
Dr. Johnson went to town for some days, but not before Mrs. Thrale read him a very serious lecture upon giving way to such violence; which he bore with a patience and quietness that even more than made his peace with me; for such a man’s confessing himself wrong is almost more amiable that another being steadily right.
Wednesday, June 26. —
Dr. Johnson, who had been in town some days, returned, and Mr. Crutchley came also, as well as my father. I did not see the two latter till summoned to dinner; and then Dr. Johnson seizing my hand, while with one of his own he gave me a no very gentle tap on the shoulder, half drolly and half reproachfully called out,
“Ah, you little baggage, you! and have you known how long I have been here, and never to come to me?”
And the truth is, in whatever sportive mode he expresses it, he really likes not I should be absent from him half a minute whenever he is here, and not in his own apartment.. . . Dr. Johnson, as usual when here, kept me in chat with him in the library after all the rest had dispersed; but when Mr. Crutchley returned again, he went upstairs.
Friday . —
The moment breakfast was over, Mr. Crutchley arose, and was taking leave; but Mrs. Thrale told him, with an arch laugh, he had better stay, for he would not get mended by going. He protested, however, that he must certainly go home.