We may be sure Fanny never exhibited herself in such a situation. Of her drinking the waters, even, there is no mention in her Bath journal Of 1780. But the journal records a continual succession of visits and diversions, and keeps us entertained with the most life-like and amusing descriptions of Bath society. The house occupied by Mr. Thrale and his party was at the corner of the South-parade, and Fanny's room commanded that beautiful prospect of Prior- park and the Avon which had charmed Evelina.
Amid all these gaieties there are glimpses of more serious scenes. The Gordon riots took place in June, 1780, and the alarm they occasioned spread far and wide over the country. The present section, too, closes with a melancholy incident-- the death of Mr. Thrale. He had been long ailing, and had had a paralytic stroke in 1779. He died on the 4th of April, 1781. Probably no one felt the loss more keenly than Thrale's old friend, 'Dr. Johnson, in whose “Prayers and Meditations” occurs the following touching entry:--
“Good Friday, 13th April, 1781. On Wednesday, 11th, was buried my dear friend Thrale, who died on Wednesday, 4th; and with him were buried many of my hopes and pleasures. About five, I think, on Wednesday morning he expired. I felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect or benignity.”--ED.]
_Bath, April 7_--The journey was very comfortable; Mr. Thrale was charmingly well and in very good spirits, and Mrs. Thrale must be charming, well or ill. We only went to Maidenhead Bridge the first night, where I found the caution given me by Mr. Smelt,[116] of not attempting to travel near Windsor on a hunting-day, was a very necessary one, as we were with difficulty accommodated even the day after the hunt; several stragglers remaining at all the inns, and we heard of nothing but the king and royal huntsmen and huntswomen. The second day we slept at Speen Hill, and the third day we reached Devizes.
And here Mrs. Thrale and I were much pleased with our hostess, Mrs. Laurence, who seemed something above her station in her inn. While we were at cards before supper, we were much surprised by the sounds of a pianoforte. I jumped up, and ran to listen whence it proceeded. I found it came from the next room, where the overture to the “Buona Figliuola” was performing. The playing was very decent, but as the music was not quite new to me, my curiosity was not whole ages in satisfying, and therefore I returned to finish the rubber.