_Saturday, May 29_. After breakfast, Mrs. and Miss Thrale took me to
Widget's, the milliner and library-woman on the Steyn. After a little
dawdling conversation, Captain Fuller came in to have a little chat. He
said he had just gone through a great operation--“I have been,” he said,
“cutting off the hair of all my men.”
“And why?
“Why, the Duke of Richmond ordered that it should be done, and the
fellows swore that they would not submit to it; so I was forced to be
the operator myself. I told them they would look as smart again when
they had got on their caps; but it went much against them, they vowed,
at first, they would not bear such usage; some said they would sooner
be run through the body, and others, that the duke should as soon have
their heads. I told them I would soon try that, and fell to work myself
with them.”
“And how did they bear it?
“Oh, poor fellows, with great good-nature, when they found his honour
was their barber: but I thought proper to submit to bearing all their
oaths, and all their jokes; for they had no other comfort but to hope I
should have enough of it, and such sort of wit. Three or four of them,
however, escaped, but I shall find them out. I told them I had a good
mind to cut my own hair off too, and then they would have a Captain
Crop. I shall soothe them to-morrow with a present of new feathers for
all their caps.”
“HEARTS HAVE AT YE ALL.”
_Streatham, Sunday, June 13_. After church we all strolled the grounds,
and the topic of our discourse was Miss Streatfield. Mrs. Thrale
asserted that she had a power of captivation that was irresistible; that
her beauty, joined to her softness, her caressing manners, her tearful
eyes, and alluring looks, would insinuate her into the heart of any man
she thought worth attacking.
Sir Philip[97] declared himself of a totally different opinion, and
quoted Dr. Johnson against her, who had told him that, taking away her
Greek, she was as ignorant as a butterfly.
Mr. Seward declared her Greek was all against her, with him, for that,
instead of reading Pope, Swift, or “The Spectator”--books from which she
might derive useful knowledge and improvement--it had led her to devote
all her reading time to the first eight books of Homer.
“But,” said Mrs. Thrale, “her Greek, you must own, has made all her
celebrity:--you would have heard no more of her than of any other pretty
girl, but for that.”
“What I object to,” said Sir Philip, “is her avowed preference for this
parson. Surely it is very indelicate in any lady to let all the world
know with whom she is in love!”
“The parson,” said the severe Mr. Seward, “I suppose, spoke first,--or
she would as soon have been in love with you, or with me!”
You will easily believe I gave him no pleasant look. He wanted me to
slacken my pace, and tell him, in confidence, my private opinion of her:
but I told him, very truly, that as I knew her chiefly by account, not
by acquaintance, I had not absolutely formed my opinion.
“Were I to live with her four days,” said this odd man, “I believe the
fifth I should want to take her to church.”
“You'd be devilish tired of her, though,” said Sir Philip, “in half a
year. A crying wife will never do!”
“Oh, yes,” cried he, “the pleasure of soothing her would make amends.”
“Ah,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “I would insure her power of crying herself
into any of your hearts she pleased. I made her cry to Miss Burney, to
show how beautiful she looked in tears.”
“If I had been her,” said Mr. Seward, “I would never have visited you
again.”
“Oh, but she liked it,” answered Mrs. T., “for she knows how well
she does it. Miss Burney would have run away, but she came forward on
purpose to show herself. I would have done so by nobody else--but Sophy
Streatfield is never happier than when the tears trickle from her fine
eyes in company.”
“Suppose, Miss Burney,” said Mr. Seward, “we make her the heroine of our
comedy? and call it 'Hearts have at ye all?'”
“Excellent,” cried I, “it can't be better.”