ote 1: "When the company were retired, we happened to be
talking of Dr. Barnard, the provost of Eton, who died about that
time; and after a long and just eulogium on his wit, his learning,
and goodness of heart--'He was the only man, too,' says Mr. Johnson,
quite seriously, 'that did justice to my good breeding; and you may
observe that I am well-bred to a degree of needless scrupulosity. No
man,' continued he, not observing the amazement of his hearers, 'no
man is so cautious not to interrupt another; no man thinks it so
necessary to appear attentive when others are speaking; no man so
steadily refuses preference to himself, or so willingly bestows it on
another, as I do; nobody holds so strongly as I do the necessity of
ceremony, and the ill effects which follow the breach of it: yet
people think me rude; but Barnard did me justice.'"--_Anecdotes_. "I
think myself a very polite man,"--_Boswell_. 1778.]

Sir Henry Bulwer (in his "France") says that Louis the Fourteenth was
entitled to be called a man of genius, if only from the delicate
beauty of his compliments. Mrs. Thrale awards the palm of excellence
in the same path to Johnson. "Your compliments, Sir, are made seldom,
but when they are made, they have an elegance unequalled; but then,
when you are angry, who dares make speeches so bitter and so cruel?"
"I am sure," she adds, after a semblance of defence on his part, "I
have had my share of scolding from you." _Johnson_. "It is true, you
have, but you have borne it like an angel, and you have been the
better for it." As the discussion proceeds, he accuses her of often
provoking him to say severe things by unreasonable commendation; a
common mode of acquiring a character for amiability at the expense of
one's intimates, who are made to appear uncharitable by being thus
constantly placed on the depreciating side.

Some years prior to this period (1778) Mrs. Thrale's mind and
character had undergone a succession of the most trying ordeals, and
was tempered and improved, without being hardened, by them. In
allusion to what she suffered in child-bearing, she said later in
life that she had nine times undergone the sentence of a
convict,--confinement with hard labour. Child after child died at the
age when the bereavement is most affecting to a mother. Her husband's
health kept her in a constant state of apprehension for his life, and
his affairs became embarrassed to the very verge of bankruptcy. So
long as they remai