The Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay
Chapter 45 : I think I shall take warning by this failure, to trust only to my own expedients for av

I think I shall take warning by this failure, to trust only to my own expedients for avoiding his public notice in future. However it stopped here; for Lord De Ferrars came in, and took the disputed place without knowing of the contest, and all was quiet.

MISS BURNEY WILL NOT BE PERSUADED TO DANCE.

... Late as it was, it was settled we should go to the ball, the last for the season being this night. My own objections about going not being strong enough to combat the ado my mentioning them would have occasioned, I joined in the party, without demur.

The ball was half over, and all the company seated to tea. Mr. Wade[156]

came to receive us all, as usual, and we had a table procured for us, and went to tea ourselves, for something to do. When this repast was over, the company returned to their recreation. The room was very thin, and almost half the ladies danced with one another, though there were men enough present, I believe, had they chosen such exertion; but the Meadowses at b.a.l.l.s are in crowds. Some of the ladies were in riding habits, and they made admirable men. 'Tis tonnish to be so much undressed at the last ball.

None of our usual friends, the Sh.e.l.leys, Hatsels, d.i.c.kens, or Pepys, were here, and we, therefore, made no party--but Mrs. Thrale and I stood at the top of the room to look on the dancing, and as we were thus disengaged, she was seized with a violent desire to make one among them, and I felt myself an equal inclination. She proposed, as so many women danced together, that we two should, and nothing should I have liked so well; but I begged her to give up the scheme, as that would have occasioned more fuss and observation than our dancing with all the men that ever were born.

While we were debating this matter, a gentleman suddenly said to me,--"Did you walk far this morning, Miss Burney?" And, looking at him, I saw Mr. Metcalf,[157] whose graciousness rather surprised me, for he only made to Mrs. Thrale a cold and distant bow, and it seems he declares, aloud and around, his aversion to literary ladies. That he can endure, and even seek me is, I presume, only from the general perverseness of mankind, because he sees I have always turned from him; not, however, from disliking him, for he is a shrewd, sensible, keen, and very clever man; but merely from a dryness on his own side that has excited retaliation.

"Yes," I answered, "we walked a good way."

"Dr. Johnson," said he, "told me in the morning you were no walker; but I informed him then I had had the pleasure of seeing you upon the Newmarket Hill."

"Oh, he does not know," cried I, "whether I am a walker or not--he does not see me walk, because he never walks himself."...

Here he was called away by some gentleman, but presently came to me again.

"Miss Burney," he said, "shall you dance?"

"No, sir, not to-night."

"A gentleman," he added, "has desired me to speak to you for him."

Now, Susanna, for the grand moment!--the height--the zenith of my glory in the ton meridian! I again said I did not mean to dance, and to silence all objection, he expressively said,--

"Tis Captain Kaye[158] who sends me."

Is not this magnificent? Pray congratulate me!

I was really very much surprised, but repeated my refusal, with all customary civilities to soften it. He was leaving me with this answer, when this most flashy young officer, choosing to trust his cause to himself, came forward, and desired to be introduced to me. Mr. Metcalf performed that ceremony, and he then, with as much respect and deference as if soliciting a countess, said,--

"May I flatter myself you will do me the honour of dancing with me?"

I thanked him, and said the same thing over again. He looked much disappointed, and very unwilling to give up his plan.

"If you have not," he said, "any particular dislike to dancing, it will be doing, not only me, but the whole room much honour, if you will make one in a set."

"You do me much honour, sir," I answered, "but I must beg you to excuse me."

"I hope not," cried he, "I hope out of charity you will dance, as it is the last ball, and the company is so thin."

"Oh, it will do very well without me; Mr. Wade himself says he dies to-night a very respectable death."

"And will you not have the goodness to help it on a little in its last stage?"

"No," said I, laughing; "why should we wish it to be kept lingering?"

"Lingering!" repeated he, looking round at the dancers, "no, surely it is not quite so desperate; and if you will but join in, you will give it new existence."

I was a little thrown off my guard at this unexpected earnestness, so different to the ton of the day, and I began hardly to know what to answer, my real objection being such as I could by no means publish, though his urgency and his politeness joined would have made me give up any other.

"This is a very quiet dance," he continued, "there is nothing fatiguing in it."

"You are very good," said I, "but I cannot really dance to-night."

I was sorry to seem so obstinate, but he was just the man to make every body inquire whom he danced with; and any one who wished for general attention could do no better than to be his partner. The ever-mischievous Mrs. Thrale, calling to Mr. Selwyn, who stood by us, said,--

"Why, here's a man in love!--quite, downright in love with Miss Burney, if ever I saw one!"

"He is quite mortified, at least," he answered; "I never saw a man look more mortified."

"Well, he did not deserve it," said she; "he knew how to beg, and he ought not to have been so served."

I begged her to be silent, for Mr. Metcalf returned to me.

"Were you too much tired," he said, "with your walk this morning, to try at a dance?"

I excused myself as well as I could, and we presently went into the card-room to vary the scene. When we returned to the ball-room I was very glad to see my new captain had just taken out Lady Anne Lindsay, who is here with Lady Margaret Fordyce, and who dances remarkably well, and was every way a more suitable partner for him. He was to leave the town, with his regiment, the next day.

_Tuesday._--Mrs. Thrale took me out to walk with her. We met Lady De Ferrars and Miss Ellerker in our ramble, and the very moment the ball was mentioned, this dear and queer creature called out,--

"Ay, there was a sad ado, ladies dancing with ladies, and all sorts of odd things; and that handsome and fine Mr. Kaye broke his heart almost to dance with Miss Burney; but she refused him, and so, in despair, he took out Lady Anne Lindsay."

DR. JOHNSON HELD IN GENERAL DREAD.

_Thursday._--Mr. Metcalf called upon Dr. Johnson, and took him out for an airing. Mr. Hamilton is gone, and Mr. Metcalf is now the only person out of this house that voluntarily communicates with the doctor. He has been in a terrible severe humour of late, and has really frightened all the people, till they almost ran from him. To me only I think he is now kind, for Mrs. Thrale fares worse than anybody. 'Tis very strange and very melancholy that he will not a little more accommodate his manners and language to those of other people. He likes Mr. Metcalf, however, and so do I, for he is very clever and entertaining when he pleases.

Poor Dr. Delap confessed to us, that the reason he now came so seldom, though he formerly almost lived with us when at this place, was his being too unwell to cope with Dr. Johnson. And the other day Mr. Selwyn having refused an invitation from Mr. Hamilton to meet the doctor, because he preferred being here upon a day when he was out, suddenly rose at the time he was expected to return, and said he must run away, "for fear the doctor should call him to account."

SHORT, FAT, HANDSOME MISS MONCKTON: DUCAL INDIFFERENCE.

_Sunday, November 10_, brings in a new person. The e Honourable Miss Monckton,[159] who is here with her mother, the Dowager Lady Galway, has sent various messages of her earnest desire to be acquainted with Mrs.

Thrale and your humble servant to command. Dr. Johnson 'she already knew,' for she is one of those who stand foremost in collecting all extraordinary or curious people to her London conversaziones, which, like those of Mrs. Vesey, mix the rank and file literature, and exclude all beside. Well--after divers intimations of this sort, it was at last settled that Lady De Ferrars should bring her here this morning.