Monday was the day for our great party; and the Doctor came home, at
Mrs. Thrale's request, to meet them. The party consisted of Mr. C--,
who was formerly a timber-merchant, but having amassed a fortune of one
million of pounds, he has left off business. He is a good-natured busy
sort of man.
Mrs. C--, his lady, a sort of Mrs. Nobody.
Mr. N--, another rich business leaver-off.
Mrs. N--, his lady; a pretty sort of woman, who was formerly a pupil
of Dr. Hawkesworth. I had a great deal of talk with her about him, and
about my favourite miss Kinnaird, whom she knew very well.
Mr. George and Mr. Thomas N--, her sons-in-law.
Mr. R---, of whom I know nothing but that he married into Mr. Thrale's
family.
Lady Ladd; I ought to have begun with her. I beg her ladyship a thousand
pardons--though if she knew my offence, I am sure I should not obtain
one. She is own sister to Mr. Thrale. She is a tall and stout woman,
has an air of mingled dignity and haughtiness, both of which wear off
in conversation. She dresses very youthful and gaily, and attends to
her person with no little complacency. She appears to me uncultivated
in knowledge, though an adept in the manners of the world, and all that.
She chooses to be much more lively than her brother; but liveliness sits
as awkwardly upon her as her pink ribbons. In talking her over with Mrs.
Thrale who has a very proper regard for her, but who, I am sure, cannot
be blind to her faults, she gave me another proof to those I have
already of the uncontrolled freedom of speech which Dr. Johnson
exercised to everybody, and which everybody receives quietly from him.
Lady Ladd has been very handsome, but is now, I think, quite ugly--at
least she has the sort of face I like not. She was a little while ago
dressed in so showy a manner as to attract the doctor's notice, and when
he had looked at her some time, he broke out aloud into this quotation:
“With patches, paint, and jewels on,
Sure Phillis is not twenty-one
But if at night you Phillis see,
The dame at least is forty-three!”