‘And did she ever get out of jail again, sir?’
‘Yes, madam; when she came to her trial, the judge acquitted her. “So now,” she said to me, “the quilt is my own, and now I’ll make a petticoat of it.” Oh, I loved Bet Flint!’
Oh, how we all laughed! Then he gave an account of another lady, who called herself Laurinda, and who also wrote verses and stole furniture; but he had not the same affection for her, he said, though she too ‘was a lady who had high notions of honour.’
Then followed the history of another, who called herself Hortensia, and who walked up and down the park repeating a book of Virgil.
‘But,’ said he, ‘though I know her story, I never had the good fortune to see her.’
After this he gave us an account of the famous Mrs. Pinkethman. ‘And she,’ he said, ‘told me she owed all her misfortunes to her wit; for she was so unhappy as to marry a man who thought himself also a wit, though I believe she gave him not implicit credit for it, but it occasioned much contradiction and ill-will.’
‘Bless me, sir!’ cried Mrs. Thrale, ‘how can all these vagabonds contrive to get at you, of all people?’
‘O the dear creatures!’ cried he, laughing heartily, ‘I can’t but be glad to see them!’
‘Why, I wonder, sir, you never went to see Mrs. Rudd[1] among the rest?’
‘Why, madam, I believe I should,’ said he, ‘if it was not for the newspapers; but I am prevented many frolics that I should like very well, since I am become such a theme for the papers.’
- ↑ Mrs. Rudd was a lady ‘universally celebrated for extraordinary address and insinuation.’ She was tried for forgery with the brothers Perreau; they were hanged, and she was acquitted. Boswell then sought out her acquaintance.
