The Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay Volume I Part 39

"Well said, Miss Burney!" exclaimed Mrs. Thrale. "Why that's true enough, and so he has."

"A total indifference," continued I, "of what is thought of him by others, and a disdain alike of happiness or misery."

"Bravo, Burney!" cried Mrs. Thrale, "that's true enough!"

"Indeed," cried Mr. Crutchley, "you are quite mistaken. Indeed, n.o.body in the world is half so anxious about the opinions of others; I am wretched--I am miserable if I think myself thought ill of; not, indeed, by everybody, but by those whose good opinion I have tried--there if I fall, no man can be more unhappy."

"Oh, perhaps," returned I, "there may be two or three people in the world you may wish should think well of you, but that is nothing to the general character."

"Oh, no! many more. I am now four-and-thirty, and perhaps, indeed, in all my life I have not tried to gain the esteem of more than four-and-thirty people, but----"

"Oh, leave out the thirty!" cried I, "and then you may be nearer the truth."

"No, indeed: ten, at least, I daresay I have tried for, but, perhaps, I have not succeeded with two. However, I am thus even with the world; for if it likes me not, I can do without it--I can live alone; and that, indeed, I prefer to any thing I can meet with; for those with whom I like to live are so much above me, that I sink into nothing in their society; so I think it best to run away from them."

"That is to say," cried I, "you are angry you cannot yourself excel--and this is not pride?"

"Why, no, indeed; but it is melancholy to be always behind--to hear conversation in which one is unable to join--"

"Unwilling," quoth I, "you mean."

"No, indeed, but really unable; and therefore what can I do so well as to run home? As to an inferior, I hope I think that of n.o.body; and as to my equals, and such as I am on a par with, heaven knows I can ill bear them!--I would rather live alone to all eternity!"

This conversation lasted till we got home, when Mrs. Thrale said--

"Well, Mr. Crutchley, has she convinced you?"

"I don't know," cried I, "but he has convinced me."

"Why, how you smote him," cried Mrs. Thrale, "but I think you make your part good as you go on."

"The great difference," said I, "which I think there is between Mr.

Seward and Mr. Crutchley, who in some things are very much alike, is this--Mr. Seward has a great deal of vanity and no pride, Mr. Crutchley a great deal of pride and no vanity."

"Just, and true, and wise!" said dear Mrs. Thrale, "for Seward is always talking of himself, and always with approbation; Mr. Crutchley seldom mentions himself, and when he does, it is with dislike. And which have I, most pride or most vanity?"

"Oh, most vanity, certa!" quoth I.

At Supper we had only Sir Philip and Mr. Crutchley. The conversation of the morning was then again renewed.--

"Oh!" cried Mrs. Thrale, "what a smoking did Miss Burney give Mr.

Crutchley!"

"A smoking, indeed!" cried He. "Never had I such a one before! Never did I think to get such a character! I had no notion of it."

"Nay, then," said I, "why should you, now?"

"But what is all this?" cried Sir Philip, delighted enough at any mischief between Mr. Crutchley and me, or between any male and female, for he only wishes something to go forward, and thinks a quarrel or dispute next best to fondness and flirting.

"Why, Miss Burney," answered she, "gave Mr. Crutchley this morning a n.o.ble tr.i.m.m.i.n.g. I had always thought him very humble, but she shewed me my mistake, and said I had not distinguished pride from vanity."

"Oh, never was I so mauled in my life," said he.

Enough, however, of this rattle, which lasted till we all went to bed, and which Mrs. Thrale most kindly kept up, by way of rioting me from thinking, and which Mr. Crutchley himself bore with the utmost good nature, from having noticed that I was out of spirits....

_July 2_--The other morning Mrs. Thrale ran hastily into my room, her eyes full of tears, and cried,--

"What an extraordinary man is this Crutchley! I declare he has quite melted me! He came to me just now, and thinking I was uneasy I could do no more for Perkins,[142] though he cared not himself if the man were drowned, he offered to lend him a thousand pounds, merely by way of giving pleasure to me!"

MISS SOPHY STREATHIELD IS COMMENTED ON

Well-it was, I think, Sat.u.r.day, Aug. 25, that Mrs Thrale brought me back.[143] We then took up Mr. Crutchley, who had come to his town-house upon business, and who accompanied us thither for a visit of three days.

In the evening Mr. Seward also came. He has been making the western tour, and gave us, with a seriousness that kept me continually grinning, some account of a doctor, apothecary, or 'chemist' belonging to every town at which he had stopped.

And when we all laughed at his thus following up the faculty, he undauntedly said,--

"I think it the best way to get information; I know no better method to learn what is going forward anywhere than to send for the chief physician of the place, so I commonly consult him the first day I stop at a place, and when I have fee'd him, and made acquaintance, he puts me in a way to find out what is worth looking at."

A most curious mode of picking up a cicerone!

After this, still pursuing his favourite topic, he began to inquire into the particulars of Mr. Crutchley's late illness--but that gentleman, who is as much in the opposite extreme, of disdaining even any decent care of himself, as Mr. Seward is in the other, of devoting almost all his thoughts to his health cut the matter very short, and would not talk upon it at all.

"But, if I had known sooner," said Mr. Seward, "that you were ill, I should have come to see you."

"Should you?" cried Mr. Crutchley, with a loud laugh; "very kind, indeed!--it would have been charming to see you when I am ill, when I am afraid of undertaking you even when well!"

Some time after Sophy Streatfield was talked of,--Oh, with how much impertinence as if she was at the service of any man who would make proposals to her! Yet Mr. Seward spoke of her with praise and tenderness all the time, as if, though firmly of this opinion, he was warmly her admirer. From such admirers and such admiration heaven guard me! Mr.

Crutchley said but little; but that little was bitter enough.

"However," said Mr. Seward, "after all that can be said, there is n.o.body whose manners are more engaging, n.o.body more amiable than the little Sophy; and she is certainly very pretty; I must own I have always been afraid to trust myself with her."

Here Mr. Crutchley looked very sneeringly.

"Nay, squire," cried Mr. Seward, "she is very dangerous, I can tell you; and if she had you at a fair trial, she would make an impression that would soften even your hard heart."

"No need of any further trial," answered he, laughing, "for she has done that already; and so soft was the impression that it is absolutely all dissolved!--melted quite away, and not a trace of it left!"

Mr. Seward then proposed that she should marry Sir John Miller,[144] who has just lost his wife and very gravely said, he had a great mind to set out for Tunbridge, and carry her with him to Bath, and so make the match without delay!

"But surely," said Mrs. Thrale, "if you fail, you will think yourself bound in honour to marry her yourself?"

"Why, that's the thing," said he; "no, I can't take the little Sophy myself; I should have too many rivals; no, that won't do."