“I told Dr. Johnson and Mr. Crutchley three days ago that I had determined—­seeing them so averse to it—­that I would not go abroad, but that, if I did not leave England, I would leave London, where I had not been treated to my mind, and where I had flung away much unnecessary money with little satisfaction; that I was greatly in debt, and somewhat like distress’d:  that borrowing was always bad, but of one’s children worst:  that Mr. Crutchley’s objection to their lending me their money when I had a mortgage to offer as security, was unkind and harsh:  that I would go live in a little way at Bath till I had paid all my debts and cleared my income:  that I would no more be tyrannized over by people who hated or people who plundered me, in short that I would retire and save my money and lead this uncomfortable life no longer.  They made little or no reply, and I am resolved to do as I declared.  I will draw in my expenses, lay by every shilling I can to pay off debts and mortgages, and perhaps—­who knows?  I may in six or seven years be freed from all incumbrances, and carry a clear income of 2500_l._ a year and an estate of 500_l._ in land to the man of my heart.  May I but live to discharge my obligations to those who hate me; it will be paradise to discharge them to him who loves me.”

“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 life from perishing?  When I was near losing my existence from the contentions of my mind, and was seized with a temporary delirium in Argyll Street, she and her two eldest sisters laughed at my distress, and observed to dear Fanny Burney, that it was monstrous droll. She could hardly suppress her indignation.

“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, and 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."[1]