provide Fanny with every weareable- every wishable, indeed it would not vex me to be served so; but to see the impossibility of compensating for the pleasures of St. Martin's Street makes one at once merry and mortified.

Dr. Burney did not like his daughter should learn Latin even of Johnson, who offered to teach her for friendship, because then she would have been as wise as himself forsooth, and Latin was too masculine for Misses. A narrow-souled goose-cap the man must be at last, agreeable and amiable all the while too, beyond almost any other human creature. Well, mortal man is but a paltry animal! the best of us have such drawbacks both upon virtue, wisdom, and knowledge.

September, 1781. My five fair daughters too! I have so good a pretence to wish for long life to see them settled. Like the old fellow in "Lucian," one is never at a loss for an excuse. They are five lovely creatures, to be sure, but they love not me. Is it my fault or theirs?

--

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 should.

- I suppose

1st October, 1782. After analyzing the state of her heart and feelings towards Piozzi, and balancing the pros and cons, she adds: 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 friends caress and censure me. My money wastes in expenses 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.

April, 1783.—I will go to Bath: nor health, nor strength, nor my children's affections, have I. My daughter does not, I suppose, much delight in this scheme [viz. retrenchment of expenses and removal to Bath], but why should I lead a life of delighting her, who would not lose a shilling of interest or an ounce of pleasure to save my live from perishing?

Piozzi was ill. . . A sore throat, Pepys said it was, with

four ulcers in it: the people about me said it had been lanced, and I mentioned it slightly before the girls. "Has he cut his own throat? says Miss Thrale, in her quiet manner. This was

less inexcusable because she hated him, and the other was her sister: though, had she exerted the good sense I thought her possessed of, she would not have treated him so: had she adored and fondled and respected him as he deserved from her hands, from the heroic conduct he shewed in January, when he gave into her hands, that dismal day, all my letters containing promises of marriage, protestations of love, &c., who knows but she might have kept us separated? But never did she once caress or thank me, never treat him with common civility, except on the very day which gave her hopes of our final parting. Worth while to be sure it was, to break one's heart for her! The other two are, however, neither wiser nor kinder; all swear by her, I believe, and follow her footsteps exactly. Mr. Thrale had not much heart, but his fair daughters have none at all.*

June, 1783. Most sincerely do I regret the sacrifice I have made of health, happiness, and the society of a worthy and amiable companion, to the pride and prejudice of three insensible girls, who would see nature perish without concern gratification the cause.

were their

all see

The two youngest have, for ought I see, hearts as impenetrable as their sister. They will all starve a favorite animal, with unconcern the afflictions of a friend; and when the anguish I suffered on their account last winter, in Argyll Street, nearly took away my life and reason, the younger ridiculed as a jest those agonies which the eldest despised as a philosopher. When all is said, they are exceeding valuable girls, beautiful in person, cultivated in understanding, and well-principled in religion : high in their notions, lofty in their carriage, and of intents equal to their expectations; wishing to raise their own family by connections with some more noble . . . . and superior to any feeling of tenderness which might clog the wheels of ambition. What, however, is my state? who am condemned to live with girls of this disposition? to teach without authority; to be heard without

*This is the very accusation they all brought against her.

esteem; to be considered by them as their superior in fortune, while I live by the money borrowed from them; and in good sense, when they have seen me submit my judgment to theirs at the hazard of my life and wits. O, 't is a pleasant situation! and whoever would wish, as the Greek lady phrased it, to teize himself and repent of his sins, let him borrow his children's money, be in love against their interest and prejudice, forbear to marry by their advice, and then shut himself up and live with them.* Character of Johnson. - One evening as I was giving my tongue liberty to praise Mr. Johnson to his face, a favor he would not often allow me, he said, in high good-humor, "Come, you shall draw up my character your own way, and shew it me, that may see what you will say of me when I am gone." At night I wrote as follows. — (Here followed the character which forms the conclusion of the Anecdotes.) At the end she writes: "When I shewed him his Character next day, for he would see it, he said, 'It was a very fine piece of writing, and that I had improved upon Young,' who he saw was my model, he said, 'for my flattery was still stronger than his, and yet, somehow or other, less hyperbolical.'"

I

Baretti. Will. Burke was tart upon Mr. Baretti for being too dogmatical in his talk about politics. "You have," says he, "no business to be investigating the characters of Lord Falkland or Mr. Hampden...... You cannot judge of their merits, they are no countrymen of yours." "True," replied Baretti, "and you should learn by the same rule to speak very cautiously about Brutus and Mark Antony; they are my countrymen, and I must have their characters tenderly treated by foreigners."

Baretti could not endure to be called, or scarcely thought, a foreigner, and indeed it did not often occur to his company that he was one; for his accent was wonderfully proper, and his language always copious, always nervous, always full of various allusions, flowing, too, with a rapidity worthy of admiration, and far beyond the power of nineteen in twenty natives. He had also a knowledge of the solemn language and the gay, could be

* After Buckingham had been some time married to Fairfax's daughter, he said it was like marrying the devil's daughter, and keeping house with your father-in-law.

sublime with Johnson, or blackguard with the groom; could dispute, could rally, could quibble, in our language. Baretti has, besides, some skill in music, with a bass voice very agreeable, besides a falsetto which he can manage so as to mimic any singer he hears. I would also trust his knowledge of painting a long way. These accomplishments, with his extensive power over every modern language, make him a most pleasing companion while he is in good-humor; and his lofty consciousness of his own superiority, which made him tenacious of every position, and drew him into a thousand distresses, did not, I must own, ever disgust me, till he began to exercise it against myself, and resolve to reign in our house by fairly defying the mistress of it. Pride, however, though shocking enough, is never despicable, but vanity, which he possessed too, in an eminent degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty ridiculous.

France displayed all Mr. Baretti's useful powers, he bustled for us, he catered for us, he took care of the child, he secured an apartment for the maid, he provided for our safety, our amusement, our repose; without him the pleasure of that journey would never have balanced the pain. And great was his disgust, to be sure, when he caught us, as he often did, ridiculing French manners, French sentiments, &c. I think he half cryed to Mrs. Payne, the landlady at Dover, on our return, because we laughed at French cookery, and French accommodations. O how he would court the maids at the inns abroad, abuse the men perhaps and that with a facility not to be exceeded, as they all confessed, by any of the natives. But so he could in Spain, I find, and so 't is plain he could here. I will give one instance of his skill in our low street language. Walking in a field near Chelsea, he met a fellow, who, suspecting him from dress and manner to be a foreigner, said sneeringly, "Come, Sir, will you show me the way to France?" No, Sir," says Baretti, instantly, "but I will show you the way to Tyburn." Such, however, was his ignorance in a certain line, that he once asked Johnson for information who it was composed the Pater Noster, and I heard him tell Evans the story of Dives and Lazarus

66

* Evans was a clergyman and (I believe) rector of Southwark.

as the subject of a poem he once had composed in the Milanese dialect, expecting great credit for his powers of invention. Evans owned to me that he thought the man drunk, whereas poor Baretti was, both in eating and drinking, a model of temperance. Had he guessed Evans's thoughts, the parson's gown would scarcely have saved him a knouting from the ferocious Italian.

When Johnson and Burke went to see Baretti in Newgate, they had small comfort to give him, and bid him not hope too strongly. "Why what can he fear," says Baretti, placing himself between 'em, "that holds two such hands as I do?"

An Italian came one day to Baretti, when he was in Newgate for murder, to desire a letter of recommendation for the teaching his scholars, when he (Baretti) should be hanged. "You rascal," replies Baretti, in a rage, “if I were not in my own apartment, I would kick you down stairs directly."

Piozzi. Brighton, July, 1780.I have picked up Piozzi here, the great Italian singer. He is amazingly like my father; he shall teach Hester.

13 August, 1780.- Piozzi is become a prodigious favorite with me, he is so intelligent a creature, so discerning, one can't help wishing for his good opinion; his singing surpasses everybody's for taste, tenderness, and true elegance; his hand on the forte piano too is so soft, so sweet, so delicate, every tone goes to the heart, I think, and fills the mind with emotions one would not be without, though inconvenient enough sometimes. He wants nothing from us; he comes for his health he says: I see nothing ail the man but pride. The newspapers yesterday told what all the musical folks gained, and set Piozzi down £1,200. o' year.

14 January, 1782, Harley Street. 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.: