Miss Burney), as he meant we should, at this curious manner of speaking in his favour.’
Some days later a conversation took place which must be given in full. Johnson had been praising Mrs. Thrale for her sense and wit.
‘And yet,’ continued the doctor, with the most comical look, ‘I have known all the wits, from Mrs. Montagu down to Bet Flint!’
‘Bet Flint!’ cried Mrs. Thrale, ‘pray who is she?’
‘Oh, a fine character, madam! She was habitually a slut and a drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot.’
‘And, for heaven’s sake, how came you to know her?’
‘Why, madam, she figured in the literary world, too! Bet Flint wrote her own life, and called herself Cassandra, and it was in verse; it began:—
When Nature first ordained my birth,
A diminutive I was born on earth:
And then I came from a dark abode,
Into a gay and gaudy world.
So Bet brought me her verses to correct; but I gave her half-a-crown, and she liked it as well. Bet had a fine spirit; she advertised for a husband, but she had no success, for she told me no man aspired to her! Then she hired very handsome lodgings and a footboy; and she got a harpsichord, but Bet could not play; however, she put herself in fine attitudes, and drummed.’
Then he gave an account of another of these geniuses, who called herself by some fine name, I have forgotten what.
‘She had not quite the same stock of virtue,’ continued he, ‘nor the same stock of honesty as Bet Flint; but I suppose she envied her accomplishments, for she was so little moved by the power of harmony, that while Bet Flint thought she was drumming very divinely, the other jade had her indicted for a nuisance!’
‘And pray what became of her, sir?’
