request, a song to the Prince of Wales. They pay for the Theatre
neither principal nor interest; and poor Garrick's funeral expenses
are yet unpaid, though the undertaker is broken. Could you have a
better purveyor for a little scandal? But I wish I was at Streatham.
I beg Miss to come early, and I may perhaps reward you with more
mischief."
She went to Streatham on the 18th April, 1782, and Johnson evidently
with her. In "Thraliana" she writes:
"_Saturday, 9th May, 1782._--To-day I bring home to Streatham my poor
Dr. Johnson: he went to town a week ago by the way of amusing
himself, and got so very ill that I thought I should never get him
home alive,"--by _home_ meaning Streatham.
Johnson to Mrs. Thrale:
"June 4th, 1782.
"This day I dined upon skate, pudding, goose, and your asparagus, and
could have eaten more, but was prudent. Pray for me, dear Madam; I
hope the tide has turned. The change that I feel is more than I durst
have hoped, or than I thought possible; but there has not yet passed
a whole day, and I may rejoice perhaps too soon. Come and see me, and
when you think best, upon due consideration, take me away."
From her to him:
"Streatham, June 14th, 1782.
"DEAR SIR,--I am glad you confess yourself peevish, for confession
must precede amendment. Do not study to be more unhappy than you are,
and if you can eat and sleep well, do not be frighted, for there can
be no real danger. Are you acquainted with Dr. Lee, the master of
Baliol College? And are you not delighted with his gaiety of manners
and youthful vivacity now that he is eighty-six years old? I never
heard a more perfect or excellent pun than his, when some one told
him how, in a late dispute among the Privy Counsellors, the Lord
Chancellor (Thurlow) struck the table with such violence that he
split it. 'No, no,' replied the Master, drily, 'I can hardly persuade
myself that he _split the table_, though I believe he _divided the
Board_.' Will you send me anything better from Oxford than this? for
there must be no more fastidiousness now; no more refusing to laugh
at a good quibble, when you so loudly profess the want of amusement
and the necessity of diversion."
From him to her:
"Oxford, June 17th, 1782.
"Oxford has done, I think, what for the present it can do, and I am
going slyly to take a place in the coach for Wednesday, and you or my
sweet Queeny will fetch me on Thursday, and see what you can make of
me."
Hannah More met him during this visit to Oxford, and writes, June
13th, 1782: "Who do you think is my principal cicerone at Oxford?
only Dr. Johnson! and we do so gallant it about."
Madame D'Arblay, then at Streatham, writes, June 26th, 1782: "Dr.
Johnson, who had been in town some days, returned, and Mr. Crutchley
came also, as well as my father." After describing some lively
conversation, she adds: "I have _very often_, though I mention them
not, long and melancholy discourses with Dr. Johnson, about our dear
deceased master, whom, indeed, he regrets unceasingly; but I love not
to dwell on subjects of sorrow when I can drive them away, especially
to you (her sister), upon this account as you were so much a stranger
to that excellent friend, whom you only lamented for the sake of
those who survived him." He had only returned that very day, and she
had been absent from Streatham, as she states elsewhere, till "the
Cecilian business was arranged," _i.e._ till the end of May.
On the 24th August, 1782 (this date is material) Johnson writes to
Boswell:
"DEAR SIR,--Being uncertain whether I should have any call this
autumn into the country, I did not immediately answer your kind
letter. I have no call; but if you desire to meet me at Ashbourne, I
believe I can come thither; if you had rather come to London, I can
stay at Streatham: take your choice."
This was two days after Mrs. Thrale, with his full concurrence, had
made up her mind to let Streatham. He treats it, notwithstanding, as
at his disposal for a residence so long as she remains in it.
The books and printed letters from which most of these extracts are
taken, have been all along accessible to her assailants. Those from
"Thraliana," which come next, are new:
"_25th November_, 1781.--I have got my Piozzi[1] home at last; he
looks thin and battered, but always kindly upon me, I think. He
brought me an Italian sonnet written in his praise by Marco Capello,
which I instantly translated of course; but he, prudent creature,
insisted on my burning it, as he said it would inevitably get about
the town how _he_ was praised, and how Mrs. Thrale translated and
echoed the praises, so that, says he, I shall be torn in pieces, and
you will have some _infamità_ said of you that will make you hate the
sight of me. He was so earnest with me that I could not resist, so
burnt my sonnet, which was actually very pretty; and now I repent I
did not first write it into the Thraliana. Over leaf, however, shall
go the translation, which happens to be done very closely, and the
last stanza is particularly exact. I must put it down while I
remember it:
1.
"'Favoured of Britain's pensive sons,
Though still thy name be found,
Though royal Thames where'er he runs
Returns the flattering sound,
2.
Though absent thou, on every joy
Her gloom privation flings,
And Pleasure, pining for employ,
Now droops her nerveless wings,
3.
Yet since kind Fates thy voice restore
To charm our land again[2],--
Return not to their rocky shore,
Nor tempt the angry main.
4.
Nor is their praise of so much worth,
Nor is it justly given,
That angels sing to them on earth
Who slight the road to heaven.'
"He tells me--Piozzi does--that his own country manners greatly
disgusted him, after having been used to ours; but Milan is a
comfortable place, I find. If he does not fix himself for life here,
he will settle to lay his bones at Milan. The Marquis D'Araciel, his
friend and patron, who resides there, divides and disputes his heart
with me: I shall be loth to resign it."
[Footnote 1: This mode of expression did not imply then what it might
now. See _ante_, p. 92, where Johnson writes to "my Baretti."]
[Footnote 2: "Capello is a Venetian poet."]
"_17th December, 1781._--Dear Mr. Johnson is at last returned; he has
been a vast while away to see his country folks at Litchfield. My
fear is lest he should grow paralytick,--there are really some
symptoms already discoverable, I think, about the mouth particularly.
He will drive the gout away so when it comes, and it must go
_somewhere_. Queeny works hard with him at the classicks; I hope she
will be _out_ of leading-strings at least before he gets _into_ them,
as poor women say of their children."
"_1st January, 1782._--Let me not, while censuring the behaviour of
others, however, give cause of censure by my own. I am beginning a
new year in a new character. May it be worn decently yet lightly! I
wish not to be rigid and fright my daughters by too much severity. I
will not be wild and give them reason to lament the levity of my
life. Resolutions, however, are vain. To pray for God's grace is the
sole way to obtain it--'Strengthen Thou, O Lord, my virtue and my
understanding, preserve me from temptation, and acquaint me with
myself; fill my heart with thy love, restrain it by thy fear, and
keep my soul's desires fixed wholly on that place where only true
joys are to be found, through Jesus Christ our Lord,--Amen.'"
_January_, 1782.--(After stating her fear of illness and other ills.)
"_If_ nothing of all these misfortunes, however, befall one; _if_ for
my sins God should take from me my monitor, my friend, my inmate, my
dear Doctor Johnson; _if_ neither I should marry, nor the brewhouse
people break; _if_ the ruin of the nation should not change the
situation of affairs so that one could not receive regular
remittances from England: and _if_ Piozzi should not pick him up a
wife and fix his abode in this country,--_if_, therefore, and _if_
and _if_ and _if_ again all should conspire to keep my present
resolution warm, I certainly would, at the close of the four years
from the sale of the Southwark estate, set out for Italy, with my two
or three eldest girls, and see what the world could show me."
In a marginal note, she adds:
"Travelling with Mr. Johnson _I_ cannot bear, and leaving him behind
_he_ could not bear, so his life or death must determine the
execution or laying aside my schemes. I wish it were within reason to
_hope_ he could live four years."
"_Streatham, 4th January_, 1782.--I have taken a house in Harley
Street for these three months next ensuing, and hope to have some
society,--not company tho': crowds are out of the question, but
people will not come hither on short days, and 'tis too dull to live
all alone so. The world will watch me at first, and think I come o'
husband-hunting for myself or my fair daughters, but when I have
behaved prettily for a while, they will change their mind."
"_Harley Street, 14th January_, 1782.--The first seduction comes from
Pepys. I had a letter to-day desiring me to dine in Wimpole Street,
to meet Mrs. Montagu and a whole _army of blues_, to whom I trust my
refusal will afford very pretty speculation ... and they may settle
my character and future conduct at their leisure. Pepys is a
worthless fellow at last; he and his brother run about the town,
spying and enquiring what Mrs. Thrale is to do this winter, what
friends she is to see, what men are in her confidence, how soon she
will be _married_, &c.; the brother Dr.--the Medico, as we call
him--lays wagers about me, I find; God forgive me, but they'll make
me hate them both, and they are no better than two fools for their
pains, for I was willing to have taken them to my heart."
"They say Pacchierotti, the famous soprano singer, is ill, and _they
say_ Lady Mary Duncan, his frightful old protectress, has made him so
by her _caresses dénaturées_. A little envy of the new woman,
Allegrante, has probably not much mended his health, for
Pacchierotti, dear creature, is envious enough. I was, however,
turning over Horace yesterday, to look for the expression _tenui
fronte_[1], in vindication of my assertion to Johnson that low
foreheads were classical, when the 8th Ode of the First Book of
Horace struck me so, I could not help imitating it while the scandal
was warm in my mind:
1.
"'He's sick indeed! and very sick,
For if it is not all a trick
You'd better look about ye.
Dear Lady Mary, prythee tell
Why thus by loving him too well
You kill your Pacchierotti?
2.
Nor sun nor dust can he abide,
Nor careless in a snaffle ride,
The steed we saw him mount ill.
_You_ stript him of his manly force,
When tumbling headlong from his horse
He pressed the plains of Fonthill.[2]
3.
Why the full opera should he shun?
Where crowds of critics smiling run,
To applaud their Allegrante.
Why is it worse than viper's sting,
To see them clap, or hear her sing?
Surely he's envious, ain't he?
4.
Forbear his house, nor haunt his bed
With that strange wig and fearful head,
Then, though he now so ill is,
We o'er his voice again may doze,
When, cover'd warm with women's clothes,
He acts a young Achilles.'"
[Footnote 1: Insignem tenui fronte Lycorida Cyri torret amor--
But _tenuis_ is _small_ or _narrow_ rather than _low_. One of
Fielding's beauties, Sophia Western, has a low forehead: another,
Fanny, a high one.]
[Footnote 2: _Note by Mrs. T.:_ "Fonthill, the seat of young
Beckford. They set him o' horseback, and he tumbled off."]
"_1st February, 1782._--Here is Mr. Johnson ill, very ill indeed,
and--I do not see what ails him; 'tis repelled gout, I fear, fallen
on the lungs and breath of course. What shall we do for him? If I
lose _him_, I am more than undone; friend, father, guardian,
confident!--God give me health and patience. What shall I do?"
"_Harley Street, 13th April, 1782._--When I took off my mourning, the
watchers watched me very exactly, 'but they whose hands were
mightiest have found nothing:' so I shall leave the town, I hope, in
a good disposition towards me, though I am sullen enough with the
town for fancying me such an amorous idiot that I am dying to enjoy
every filthy fellow. God knows how distant such dispositions are from
the heart and constitution of H.L.T. Lord Loughboro', Sir Richard
Jebb, Mr. Piozzi, Mr. Selwyn, Dr. Johnson, every man that comes to
the house, is put in the papers for me to marry. In good time, I
wrote to-day to beg the 'Morning Herald' would say no more about me,
good or bad."
"_Streatham, 17th April, 1782._--I am returned to Streatham, pretty
well in health and very sound in heart, notwithstanding the watchers
and the wager-layers, who think more of the charms of their sex by
half than I who know them better. Love and friendship are distinct
things, and I would go through fire to serve many a man whom nothing
less than fire would force me to go to bed to. Somebody mentioned my
going to be married t'other day, and Johnson was joking about it. I
suppose, Sir, said I, they think they are doing me honour with these
imaginary matches, when, perhaps the man does not exist who would do
me honour by marrying me! This, indeed, was said in the wild and
insolent spirit of Baretti, yet 'tis nearer the truth than one would
think for. A woman of passable person, ancient family, respectable
character, uncommon talents, and three thousand a year, has a right
to think herself any man's equal, and has nothing to seek but return
of affection from whatever partner she pitches on. To marry for love
would therefore be rational in me, who want no advancement of birth
or fortune, and _till I am in love_, I will not marry, nor perhaps
then."
"_22nd August, 1782._--An event of no small consequence to our little
family must here be recorded in the 'Thraliana.' After having long
intended to go to Italy for pleasure, we are now settling to go
thither for convenience. The establishment of expense here at
Streatham is more than my income will answer; my lawsuit with Lady
Salusbury turns out worse in the event and infinitely more costly
than I could have dreamed on; 8000_l._ is supposed necessary to the
payment of it, and how am I to raise 8000_l_.? My trees will (after
all my expectations from them) fetch but 4000_l_., the money lent
Perkins on his bond 1600_l_., the Hertfordshire copyholds may perhaps
be worth 1000_l_., and where is the rest to spring from? I must go
abroad and save money. To show Italy to my girls, and be showed it by
Piozzi, has long been my dearest wish, but to leave Mr. Johnson
shocked me, and to take him appeared impossible. His recovery,
however, from an illness we all thought dangerous, gave me courage to
speak to him on the subject, and this day (after having been let
blood) I mustered up resolution to tell him the necessity of changing
a way of life I had long been displeased with. I added that I had
mentioned the matter to my eldest daughter, whose prudence and solid
judgment, unbiassed by passion, is unequalled, as far as my
experience has reached; that she approved the scheme, and meant to
partake it, though of an age when she might be supposed to form
connections here in England--attachments of the tenderest nature;
that she declared herself free and resolved to follow my fortunes,
though perfectly aware temptations might arise to prevent me from
ever returning--a circumstance she even mentioned herself.
"Mr. Johnson thought well of the project, and wished me to put it
early in execution: seemed less concerned at parting with me than I
wished him: thought his pupil Miss Thrale quite right in forbearing
to marry young, and seemed to entertain no doubt of living to see us
return rich and happy in two or three years' time. He told Hester in
my absence that he would not go with me if I asked him. See the
importance of a person to himself. I fancied Mr. Johnson could not
have existed without me, forsooth, as we have now lived together for
above eighteen years. I have so fondled him in sickness and in
health. Not a bit of it. He feels nothing in parting with me, nothing
in the least; but thinks it a prudent scheme, and goes to his books
as usual. This is philosophy and truth; he always said he hated a
_feeler_....
"The persecution I endure from men too who want to marry me--in good
time--is another reason for my desiring to be gone. I wish to marry
none of them, and Sir Philip's teazing me completed my mortification;
to see that one can rely on _nobody!_ The expences of this house,
however, which are quite past my power to check, is the true and
rational cause of our departure. In Italy we shall live with twice
the respect and at half the expence we do here; the language is
familiar to me and I love the Italians; I take with me all I love in
the world except my two baby daughters, who will be left safe at
school; and since Mr. Johnson cares nothing for the loss of my
personal friendship and company, there is no danger of any body else
breaking their hearts. My sweet Burney and Mrs. Byron will perhaps
think they are sorry, but my consciousness that no one _can_ have the
cause of concern that Johnson has, and my conviction that he has _no
concern at all_, shall cure me of lamenting friends left behind."
In the margin of this entry she has written, "I begin to see (now
everything shows it) that Johnson's connection with me is merely an
interested one; he _loved_ Mr. Thrale, I believe, but only wished to
find in me a careful nurse and humble friend for his sick and his
lounging hours; yet I really thought he could not have _existed_
without _my conversation_ forsooth! He cares more for my roast beef
and plum pudden, which he now devours too dirtily for endurance; and
since he is glad to get rid of me, I'm sure I have good cause to
desire the getting rid of him."
No great stress should be laid on this ebullition of mortified
self-love; but it occurs oddly enough at the very time when,
according to Lord Macaulay, she was labouring to produce the very
feeling that irritated her.
"_August 28th_, 1782.--He (Piozzi) thinks still more than he says,
that I shall give him up; and if Queeney made herself more amiable to
me, and took the proper methods--I suppose I should."
"_20 September_ 1782, _Streatham_.--And now I am going to leave
Streatham (I have let the house and grounds to Lord Shelburne, the
expence of it eat me up) for three years, where I lived--never
happily indeed, but always easily: the more so perhaps from the total
absence of love and ambition--
"'Else these two passions by the way
Might chance to show us scurvy play.'"
Ten days later (October 1st) she thus argues out the question of
marriage:
"Now! that dear little discerning creature, Fanny Burney, says I'm in
love with Piozzi: very likely; he is so amiable, so honourable, so
much above his situation by his abilities, that if
"'Fate had not fast bound her
With Styx nine times round her,
Sure musick and love were victorious.'
But if he is ever so worthy, ever so lovely, he is _below me_
forsooth! In what is he below me? In virtue? I would I were above
him. In understanding? I would mine were from this instant under the
guardianship of his. In birth? To be sure he is below me in birth,
and so is almost every man I know or have a chance to know. But he is
below me in fortune: is mine sufficient for us both?--more than amply
so. Does he deserve it by his conduct, in which he has always united
warm notions of honour with cool attention to oeconomy, the spirit of
a gentleman with the talents of a professor? How shall any man
deserve fortune, if he does not? But I am the guardian of five
daughters by Mr. Thrale, and must not disgrace _their_ name and
family. Was then the man my mother chose for me of higher extraction
than him I have chosen for myself? No,--but his fortune was
higher.... I wanted fortune then, perhaps: do I want it now?--Not at
all; but I am not to think about myself; I married the first time to
please my mother, I must marry the second time to please my daughter.
I have always sacrificed my own choice to that of others, so I must
sacrifice it again: but why? Oh, because I am a woman of superior
understanding, and must not for the world degrade myself from my
situation in life. But if I _have_ superior understanding, let me at
least make use of it for once, and rise to the rank of a human being
conscious of its own power to discern good from ill. The person who
has uniformly acted by the will of others has hardly that dignity to
boast.
"But once again: I am guardian to five girls; agreed: will this
connection prejudice their bodies, souls, or purse? My marriage may
assist _my_ health, but I suppose it will not injure _theirs_. Will
his company or companions corrupt their morals? God forbid; if I did
not believe him one of the best of our fellow beings, I would reject
him instantly. Can it injure their fortunes? Could he impoverish (if
he would) five women, to whom their father left _20,000l._ each,
independent almost of possibilities?--To what then am I guardian? to
their pride and prejudice? and is anything else affected by the
alliance? Now for more solid objections. Is not the man of whom I
desire protection, a foreigner? unskilled in the laws and language of
our country? Certainly. Is he not, as the French say, _Arbitre de mon
sort?_ and from the hour he possesses my person and fortune, have I
any power of decision how or where I may continue or end my life? Is
not the man, upon the continuance of whose affection my whole
happiness depends, _younger_ than myself[1], and is it wise to place
one's happiness on the continuance of _any_ man's affection? Would it
not be painful to owe his appearance of regard more to his honour
than his love? and is not my person, already faded, likelier to fade
sooner, than his? On the other hand, is his life a good one? and
would it not be lunacy even to risque the wretchedness of losing all
situation in the world for the sake of living with a man one loves,
and then to lose both companion and consolation? When I lost Mr.
Thrale, every one was officious to comfort and to soothe me; but
which of my children or quondam friends would look with kindness upon
Piozzi's widow? If I bring children by him, must they not be
Catholics, and must not I live among people the _ritual_ part of
whose religion I disapprove?
"These are _my_ objections, these _my_ fears: not those of being
censured by the world, as it is called, a composition of vice and
folly, though 'tis surely no good joke to be talked of
"'By each affected she that tells my story,
And blesses her good stars that _she_ was prudent.'
"These objections would increase in strength, too, if my present
state was a happy one, but it really is not. I live a quiet life, but
not a pleasant one. My children govern without loving me; my servants
devour and despise me; my friends caress and censure me; my money
wastes in expences I do not enjoy, and my time in trifles I do not
approve. Every one is made insolent, and no one comfortable; my
reputation unprotected, my heart unsatisfied, my health unsettled. I
will, however, resolve on nothing. I will take a voyage to the
Continent in spring, enlarge my knowledge and repose my purse. Change
of place may turn the course of these ideas, and external objects
supply the room of internal felicity. If he follow me, I may reject
or receive at pleasure the addresses of a man who follows on _no
explicit promise_, nor much probability of success, for I would
really wish to marry no more without the consent of my children (such
I mean as are qualified to give their opinions); and how should _Miss
Thrales_ approve of my marrying _Mr. Piozzi_? Here then I rest, and
will torment my mind no longer, but commit myself, as he advises, to
the hand of Providence, and all will end _all' ottima perfezzione_.
"Written at Streatham, 1st October, 1782."
[Footnote 1: _Note by Mrs. Piozzi_: "He was half a year _older_ when
our registers were both examined."]
"_October, 1782._--There is no mercy for me in this island. I am more
and more disposed to try the continent. One day the paper rings with
my marriage to Johnson, one day to Crutchley, one day to Seward. I
give no reason for such impertinence, but cannot deliver myself from
it. Whitbred, the rich brewer, is in love with me too; oh, I would
rather, as Ann Page says, be set breast deep in the earth[1] and
bowled to death with turnips.
"Mr. Crutchley bid me make a curtsey to my daughters for keeping me
out of a goal (_sic_), and the newspapers insolent as he! How shall I
get through? How shall I get through? I have not deserved it of any
of them, as God knows.
"Philip Thicknesse put it about Bath that I was a poor girl, a mantua
maker, when Mr. Thrale married me. It is an odd thing, but Miss
Thrales like, I see, to have it believed."