“‘Oh, vastly well!—this will do for anything!’ with a tone as much as to say, Pray, no more! Then Mrs. Thrale bid him good-night, longing, she said, to call Miss Thrale first, and say, ‘So you won’t speak to my daughter?—why, she is no author!’”
At another time, Mrs. Thrale said:
“Let[“Let] him be tormented, if such things can torment him. For my part I’d have a starling taught to halloo ‘Evelina’!”[‘Evelina’!”]
At Brighton, also, Miss Burney met with one of those humorous characters which her pen loved to describe:
“I must now have the honour to present to you a new acquaintance, who this day dined here-Mr. B——-y, an Irish gentleman, late a commissary in Germany. He is between sixty and seventy, but means to pass for about thirty; gallant, complaisant, obsequious, and humble to the fair sex, for whom he has an awful reverence; but when not immediately addressing them, swaggering, blustering, puffing, and domineering. These are his two apparent characters; but the real man is worthy, moral, religious, though conceited and parading.
“He is as fond of quotations as my poor ‘Lady Smatter,’ and, like her, knows little beyond a song, and always blunders about the author of that.... His whole conversation consists in little French phrases, picked up during his residence abroad, and in anecdotes and storytelling, which are sure to be re-told daily and daily in the same words....
“Speaking of the ball in the evening, to which we were all going, ‘Ah, madam!’ said he to Mrs. Thrale, ‘there was a time when—tol-de-rol, tol-de-rol [rising, and dancing and singing], tol-de-rol!—I could dance with the best of them; but, now a man, forty and upwards, as my Lord Ligonier used to say—but—tol-de-rol!—there was a time!’
“‘Ay, so there was, Mr. B——y,’ said Mrs. Thrale, ‘and I think you and I together made a very venerable appearance!’
“‘Ah! madam, I remember once, at Bath, I was called out to dance with one of the finest young ladies I ever saw. I was just preparing to do my best, when a gentleman of my acquaintance was so cruel as to whisper me—’B——y! the eyes of all Europe are upon you!‘—for that was the phrase of the times. ‘B——y!’ says he, ’the eyes of all Europe are upon you!‘—I vow, ma’am, enough to make a man tremble!—tol-de-rol, tol-de-rol! [dancing]—the eyes of all Europe are upon you!—I declare, ma’am, enough to put a man out of countenance!”
“Dr. Delap, who came here some time after, was speaking of Horace.