d all change; alike
from this new partiality, and from the undisguised, and even
strenuous opposition of the Memorialist to its indulgence."

The Memoirs of Dr. Burney, by his daughter, published in 1832,
together with her Diary and Letters, supplied the materials of Lord
Macaulay's celebrated article on Madame D'Arblay in the "Edinburgh
Review" for January, 1843, since reprinted amongst his Essays. He
describes the Memoirs as a book "which it is impossible to read
without a sensation made up of mirth, shame, and loathing," and
adds:--"The two works are lying side by side before us; and we never
turn from the Memoirs to the Diary without a sense of relief. The
difference is as great as the difference between the atmosphere of a
perfumer's shop, scented with lavender water and jasmine soap, and
the air of a heath on a fine morning in May."[1]

[Footnote 1: Critical and Historical Essays (one volume edition),
1851, p. 652. The Memoirs were composed between 1828 and 1832, more
than forty years after the occurrence of the scenes I have quoted
from them.]

The passages I have quoted amply establish the justice of this
comparison, for they are utterly irreconcileable with the unvarnished
statements of the Diary; from which we learn that "Cecilia" was
published about the beginning of June, when Johnson was absent from
Streatham; that the Diarist had left Streatham prior to August 12th,
and did not return to it again that year. How could she have passed
many months there after she was entrusted with the great secret,
which (as stated in "Thraliana") she only guessed in September or
October?

How again could Johnson have attributed Mrs. Thrale's conduct to
caprices "partly wealthy," when he knew that one main source of her
troubles was pecuniary; or how can his alleged sense of ill-treatment
be reconciled with his own letters? That he groaned over the terrible
disturbance of his habits involved in the abandonment of Streatham,
is likely enough; but as the only words he uttered were, "That house
is lost to _me_ for ever," and "Good morning, dear lady," the
accompanying look is about as safe a foundation for a theory of
conduct or feeling as Lord Burleigh's famous nod in "The Critic." The
philosopher was at this very time an inmate of Streatham, and
probably returned that same evening to register a sample of its
hospitality. At all events, we know that, spite of hints and
warnings, sighs and groans, he stuck to Streatham to