_December 8._--Now for Miss Monckton's assembly.
I had begged Mrs. Thrale to call for me,[160] that I might have her
countenance and assistance upon my entrance. Miss Thrale came also.
Every thing was in a new style. We got out of the coach into a hall full
of servants, not one of which inquired our names, or took any notice
of us. We proceeded, and went upstairs, and, when we arrived at a door,
stopped and looked behind us. No servant had followed or preceded us.
We deliberated what was to be done. To announce ourselves was rather
awkward, neither could we be sure we were going into the right
apartment. I proposed going up higher, till we met with somebody; Miss
Thrale thought we should go down and call some of the servants; but Mrs.
Thrale, after a ridiculous consultation, determined to try her fortune
by opening the door. This being done, we entered a room full of
tea-things, and one maid-servant.
“Well,” cried Mrs. Thrale, laughing, “what is to be done now? I suppose
we are come so early that nothing is ready.”
The maid stared, but said,--“There's company in the next room.”
Then we considered again how to make ourselves known; and then Mrs.
Thrale again resolved to take courage and enter. She therefore opened
another door, and went into another apartment. I held back, but looked
after, and observing that she made no curtsey, concluded she was gone
into some wrong place. Miss Thrale followed, and after her went little
I, wondering who was to receive, or what was to become of us.
Miss Monckton lives with her mother, the old Dowager Lady Galway, in a
noble house in Charles-street, Berkeleysquare, The room was large and
magnificent. There was not much company, for we were very early. Lady
Galway sat at the side of the fire, and received nobody. She seems very
old, and was dressed with a little round white cap, and not a single
hair, no cushlori, roll, nor any thing else but the little round cap,
which was flat upon her forehead. Such part of the company as already
knew her made their compliments to her where she sat, and the rest were
never taken up to her, but belonged wholly to Miss Monckton.
Miss Monckton's own manner of receiving her guests was scarce more
laborious; for she kept her seat when they entered, and only turned
round her head to nod it, and say “How do you do?” after which they
found what accommodation they could for themselves.
As soon, however, as she perceived Mrs. and Miss Thrale, which was not
till they had been some minutes in the room, she arose to welcome them,
contrary to her general Custom, and merely because it was their first
visit. Our long train making my entrance some time after theirs, gave me
the advantage of being immediately seen by her, and she advanced to me
with quickness, and very politely thanked me for coming, and said,--
“I fear you think me very rude for taking the liberty of sending to
you.”
“No, indeed, you did me much honour,” quoth I.
She then broke further into her general rules, by making way for me to a
good place, and seating me herself, and then taking a chair next me, and
beginning a little chat. I really felt myself much obliged to her for
this seasonable attention, for I was presently separated from Mrs.
Thrale, and entirely surrounded by strangers, all dressed superbly, and
all looking saucily; and as nobody's names were spoken, I had no chance
to discover any acquaintances. Mr. Metcalf, indeed, came and spoke to me
the instant I came in, and I should have been very happy to have had him
for my neighbour; but he was engaged in attending to Dr. Johnson, who
was standing near the fire, and environed with listeners.
Some new people now coming in, and placing themselves in a regular way,
Miss Monckton exclaimed,--“My whole care is to prevent a circle;” and
hastily rising, she pulled about the chairs, and planted the people in
groups, with as dexterous a disorder as you would desire to see.
The company in general were dressed with more brilliancy than at
any rout I ever was at, as most of them were going to the Duchess of
Cumberland's, and attired for that purpose. Just behind me sat Mrs.
Hampden, still very beautiful, but insufferably affected. Another lady,
in full dress, and very pretty, came in soon after, and got herself a
chair just before me; and then a conversation began between her and Mrs.
Hampden, of which I will give you a specimen.
“How disagreeable these sacques are! I am so incommoded with these nasty
ruffles! I am going to Cumberland House--are you?”
“To be sure,” said Mrs. Hampden, “what else, do you think, would make me
bear this weight of dress? I can't bear a sacque.”
“Why, I thought you said you should always wear them?”
“Oh, yes, but I have changed my mind since then--as many people do.”
“Well, I think it vastly disagreeable indeed,” said the other, “you
can't think how I am encumbered with these ruffles!”
“Oh I am quite oppressed with them,” said Mrs. Hampden, “I can hardly
bear myself up.”
“And I dined in this way!” cried the other; “only think--dining in a
sacque!”
“Oh,” answered Mrs. Hampden, “it really puts me quite out of spirits.”
After this they found some subject less popular, and the lady unknown
leaned over me, without any ceremony, to whisper with Mrs. Hampden. I
should have offered her my place if she had made any apology, but as it
was, I thought she might take her own way. In the course of the evening,
however, I had the pleasure to observe a striking change in her manners;
for as soon as she picked up, I know not how, my name, she ceased her
whispering, looked at me with the civilest smiles, spoke to me two or
three times, and calling to a fine beau, said--
“Do pray sit this way, that you may screen Miss Burney as well as me
from that fire.”
I did not, however, sufficiently like her beginning, to accept her
challenge of talking, and only coldly answered by yes, no, or a bow.