Fanny Burney - Diary and Letters

After tea, the bishop, his lady, Lord Mordaunt, and Mrs. H– seated themselves to play at whist, and Mr. Murphy, coming Up to me, said,

“I have had no opportunity, Miss Burney, to tell you how much I have been entertained this morning, but I have a great deal to say to you about it; I am extremely pleased with it, indeed. The dialogue is charming; and the–”

“What’s that?” cried Mrs. Thrale, “Mr. Murphy always flirting with Miss Burney?  And here, too, where everybody’s watched!”

And she cast her eyes towards Mrs. H–, who is as censorious a country lady as ever locked up all her ideas in a country town.  She has told us sneering anecdotes of every woman and every officer in Brighthelm stone.  Mr. Murphy, checked by Mrs. Thrale’s exclamation, stopt the conversation, and said he must run away, but would return in half-an-hour.

“Don’t expect, however, Miss Burney,” he said, “I shall bring with me what you are thinking of; no, I can’t part with it yet! ”

What! at it again cried Mrs. Thrale.  ” This flirting is incessant ; but it’s all to Mr. Murphy’s credit.”

Mrs. Thrale told me afterwards, that she made these speeches to divert the attention of the company from our subject; for that she found they were all upon the watch the moment Mr. Murphy addressed me, and that the bishop and his lady almost threw down their cards, from eagerness to discover what he meant.

The supper was very gay: Mrs. Thrale was in high spirits, and her wit flashed with incessant brilliancy; Mr. Murphy told several stories with admirable humour; and the Bishop of Peterborough was a worthy third in contributing towards general entertainment.  He turns out most gaily sociable.  Mrs. H– was discussed, and, poor lady, not very mercifully.

Mrs. Thrale says she lived upon the Steyn, for the pleasure of viewing, all day long, who walked with who, how often the same persons were seen together, and what visits were made by gentlemen to ladies, or ladies to gentlemen.
“She often tells me,” said the captain,,” of my men.  ‘Oh,’ she says, ‘Captain Fuller, your men are always after the ladies!’”

“Nay,” cried Mrs. Thrale, “I should have thought the officers might have contented her; but if she takes in the soldiers too, she must have business enough.”

“Oh, she gets no satisfaction by her complaints; for I only say, ‘Why, ma’am, we are all young!–all young and gay!–and how can we do better than follow the ladies?’”

Streatham, May, Friday.  Once more, my dearest Susy, I will attempt journalising, and endeavour, according to my
promise, to keep up something of the kind during our absence, however brief and curtailed.

To-day, while Mrs. Thrale was chatting with me in my room, we saw Mr. Murphy drive into the courtyard.  Down stairs flew Mrs. Thrale, but, in a few minutes, up she flew again, ‘crying,

“Mr. Murphy is crazy for your play–he won’t let me rest for it– do pray let me run away with the first act.”

Little as I like to have it seen in this unfinished state, she was too urgent to be resisted, so off she made with it.

I did not shew my phiz till I was summoned to dinner.  Mr. Murphy, probably out of flummery, made us wait some minutes, and, when he did come, said,

I had much ado not to keep you all longer, for I could hardly get away from some new acquaintances I was just making.”

As he could not stay to sleep here, he had only time, after dinner, to finish the first act.  He was pleased to commend it very liberally; he has pointed out two places where he thinks I might enlarge, but has not criticised one word; on the contrary, the dialogue he has honoured with high praise.

Brighthelmstone, May 26.  The road from Streatham hither is beautiful: Mr., Mrs., Miss Thrale, and Miss Susan Thrale, and I, travelled in a coach, with four horses, and two of the servants in a chaise, besides two men on horseback; so we were obliged to stop for some time at three places on the road.

We got home by about nine o’clock.  Mr. Thrale’s house is in West Street, which is the court end of the town here, as well as in London.  ‘Tis a neat, small house, and I have a snug comfortable room to myself.  The sea is not many yards from our windows.  Our journey was delightfully pleasant, the day being heavenly, the roads in fine order, the prospects charming, and everybody good-humoured and cheerful.

Thursday.  just before we went to dinner, a chaise drove up to the door, and from it issued Mr. Murphy.  He met with, a very joyful reception; and Mr. Thrale, for the first time in his life, said he was “a good fellow”: for he makes it a sort Of TUle to salute him with the title of “scoundrel,” or “rascal.”  They are very old friends; and I question if Mr. Thrale loves any man so well.

He made me many very flattering speeches, of his eagerness to go on with my play, to know what became of the several characters, and to what place I should next conduct them; assuring me that the first act had run in his head ever since he had read it.

In the evening we all, adjourned to Major H-’s, where, besides his own family, we found Lord Mordaunt, son to the Earl of Peterborough,–a pretty, languid, tonnish young man; Mr. Fisher, who is said to be a scholar, but is nothing enchanting as a gentleman; young Fitzgerald, as much the thing as ever; and Mr. Lucius Corcannon.

Mr. Murphy was the life of the party: he was in good spirits, and extremely entertaining; he told a million of stories, admirably well; but stories won’t do upon paper, therefore I shall not attempt to present you with them.

This morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Murphy said,

“I must now go to the seat by the seaside, with my new set of acquaintance, from whom I expect no little entertainment.”

“Ay,” said Mrs. Thrale, “and there you’ll find us all! I believe this rogue means me for Lady Smatter; but Mrs. Voluble  must speak the epilogue, Mr. Murphy.”

“That must depend upon who performs the part,” answered he.

“Don’t talk of it now,” cried I, “for Mr. Thrale knows nothing of it.”

“I think,” cried Mr. Murphy, “you might touch upon his character in ‘Censor.’”

“Ay,” cried Mr. Thrale, “I expect a knock some time or other; but, when it comes, I’ll carry all my myrmidons to cat-call!”

Mr. Murphy then made me fetch him the second act, and walked off with it.