Hudy XVIIa

Chapter XVIIa - The Ball: Hudy is Invited

After all, there is less reason than plausibility about Hume's philosophy. To measure the moral value of an act by its results is, to our poor conception, rather astounding - rather a rooting-up of all fixed principles - somewhat like erecting an altar for the worship of that old-fashioned deity, Blind Chance. Sobiesky's wars against Infidelity and the Turks were successful; therefore morally good. The wars of Nicholas against Freedom and the Poles were successful; therefore morally - Bah! we cannot entertain such philosophy; - no, not even though Hudy McGuigan's hunting exploit tells so admirably in its favor, having gained him fresh laurels, introduced him to the notice and secured him the friendship of that influential party of ladies and gentlemen who so much admired his novel appearance, and applauded his skill and powers as an equestrian. Thus, though fame and other more substantial benefits resulted from his successful ride, who will be bold enough to aver that driving his mother almost to death, and entirely "out of her raison", was an act perfectly compatible with the fundamental principles of moral philosophy? Pshaw! it may not be.

But the wonderful feats of the day had naturally exalted the Clift in the minds even of those who were intimately acquainted with his former extraordinary performances, and "the fox-hunt" was set down as his chef d'oeuvre. What then must have been the impression on the minds of strangers? Can you conceive of the effect of a sun-burst on the eyes of a person long accustomed to the gloom of a dungeon? All is dazzling bewilderment. And dazzled and bewildered did those who were ignorant of his powers feel, on seeing him sweep meteor-like through the toils and dangers of that ever-memorable day.

So felt the young Counsellor and his party: but the interest created for our hero in their breasts was not one to pass readily away, and a special messenger was therefore despatched in pursuit of him, politely requesting an immediate interview, which the Clift was too good-natured and condescending to decline. He made it a point, however, with dutiful respect, to carry his darling mother to her own domicile ere he turned to learn the wishes of the young gentlemen. Whether in conformity with his own ideas of propriety we cannot say, but certain it is, that he opened the conference à cheval with as much dignity, ease, and native grace, as ever marked the manner of an Indian chief in council with a friendly tribe. The Counsellor was surrounded by some half-dozen companions, as merry and waggish as youth and a bright occasion could make them. Our hero shot a glance round the party, and, not much admiring their ardent gaze, in his own style proceeded to business.

"What's yer will wid me, Counsellor?"

"I have taken the liberty of sending for you, merely for the honor of an introduction; - I was so struck with your horsemanship and the surprising powers of your little mare through the long and fatiguing chase, that I could not resist seeking the pleasure of your acquaintance."

The Clift listened with sharp attention, and it was evident that doubt, if not confirmed scepticism, had taken possession of his mind.

"Baugh! Counsellor - I'm beholden to ye; but, by my sowl, there's always two ways of telling the same story; so in thrath I don't know, and divil a much I care, whether ye're jokin' or in airnest, do ye mind."

Struck with the keen reply, the Counsellor, somewhat ardently, said,

"Upon my honor, I never was more sincere in my life; - I certainly do anxiously desire your acquaintance, and can assure you that you will not be a loser thereby."

Again did our hero scan every word, and note every look of the Counsellor, during his second declaration; and, satisfied that candour and good humour were the prevailing traits in his character, he at once accepted the proposed intimacy, saying,

"Well, upon my conscience, Counsellor, I'm proud of yer kindness, though, for gainin' or losin', bad scran to such notions ivir crassed my thought, so there's no use in palaver - I'm your man, do ye mind."

"Well done, my good fellow - let us strike hands upon the compact. Give me leave to introduce Sir George Hill, Sir H── S──, my brother Captain Torrens, &c., &c."

"Augh, yer sarvent, genteels! How did ye like the hunt - hadn't we fine sport? By the powers the fox run like blazes!"

"We were perfectly delighted," said Sir George. "I have never seen a better day's sport - but we owe all that to you. There was nothing on the field to match you and your little mare - though, loaded as she was, it is surprising you were first in at the death."

"At the rescue, beggin' yer pardon. But, by the powers, that's an ould thrick of mine - an' divil a baste ivir stretched flank wid Shela she couldn't bate, at the long run, do ye mind."

"She certainly is a splendid little creature."

"A beauty, by my sowl! and she can do iviry thing but spake, or change the weather!"

"And where did you happen on her, may I ask?"

"By the powers she was a God-send, do ye mind: Colonel Heyland bestowed me both herself and her dam, when she was a foal."

"And who, pray, trained her so admirably for you?"

"Who thrained her? Faix it's well seen ye're a sthranger here, or ye wouldn't ax that question. Who thrained her? - divil a man livin' could do that same but myself - an' in thrath you have seen but little of her. Shela, pass yer honors to the gentlemen."

The sagacious little animal bent her head gracefully - gradually sunk her body, and then recovered her former position, with scientific skill and measured precision.

"Augh, that was a darlin' curtshay, my wee beauty!" said the Clift, patting her neck. "Maybe ye would show the gentlemen yer far fore foot."

The little mare, with ready docility, as if sensible of her master's praise, did as desired.

"Now, the near hind foot - now, the far hind foot."

And every request was instantly complied with.

The gentlemen seemed delighted, and felt it difficult to decide which of the two animals to admire more.

"Well done, my beauty! The gentlemen's mightily plaised wid yer performance; but shure ye have another wee thrick for them yet. Now, listen, Shela!"

The mare cocked her ears, and stood in the attitude of attention: the gentlemen gazed in strong expectation.

"Fight for the Crappies and General Monroe!" exclaimed the Clift, in a stentorian voice.

His words had a magic effect upon the little animal - her whole frame became agitated - she reared - she plunged - she yelled with rage - beat with her fore feet - lashed with her hind, and scattered the party in the twinkling of an eye.

"That'll do Shela, mavourneen! Augh it's yerself has more gumption nor many a Christian brute."

"Fy, fy! Hudy, your mare's an arrant rebel," said Sir George, as the party re-assembled round the now peaceful little creature.

"Divil a bit, indeed, no more nor myself. The Sogarth saved me, an' all who heeded his biddin', from that splore, do ye mind; an' more betoken, myself was lyin' ill in a faver at the risin', wid divil a sowl to mind me but my ould mother an' Shela."

"And did Shela nurse you during your illness, Hudy?"

"Augh by the powers an' it's herself that did, like a wee lady, an' cured me into the bargain, do ye mind. The first thing that ivir brought me to was her stannin' nigherin' [neighing] over me, like a mother keenying over her sick child; an' when I was able to crawl out of the bed my wee pet would have gone down an her knees at my side, fifty times a-day, coaxing me to mount her, and when I got the first ride - whew! - bad luck to all ailed me ivir afther! - I got round like huntin', an' that's God's thruth, do ye mind."

"Would you be disposed to sell the little mare, Hudy?" said the Counsellor, casting an arch glance at the rest of the party, but preserving a demure countenance for the interrogated.

"Would I sell the mare? - Were you takin' liquor this mornin', Counsellor? Would I sell Shela - sell Colonel Heyland's gift! Augh by my sowl ye know little about her an' me! Would I sell my heart's blood? Botheration! - Ye're enough to dhrive wan mad! I tell ye, man, goold couldn't buy her! an' that General Lake knows, that offered me the full of a pair of saddle-bags for her."

"And do you know General Lake?" said the Captain, exhibiting some surprise.

"In thrath do I! an' I'll be bound he'll nivir forget me till the day of judgment, do ye mind."

"And under what circumstances was it your good fortune to be presented to his Lordship?"

"Well, faix I can't rightly answer ye, Captain, becase why, I don't understhand long English; but if ye want to know where I met him, by the powers yer a'most upon the very spot."

"Why, you surprise me! I was not aware that he had ever visited this part of the country."

"Augh, the king can't keek into iviry corner of the kitchen!"

"Well, I understand you, and admit the truth of your proverb; but when did your meeting with his Lordship take place?"

"In thrath I didn't know he was a Lord at the time; - but it was the summer before last - divil a fardher gone."

"And how did he travel, pray?"

"In his coach-an'-four, to-be-sure, at the head of his ragement, on their way to Lough Sooley (Swilly) to take shippin' there. Whew! what a darlin' splore they kicked up that day. The people were makin' roads, ye parsave, and when they heard of the sodgers' comin' - whew! iviry man unyoked his horse, left his car stannin', an' was aff like spindthrift. They had no grah for the redcoats, do ye mind, becase they knowed their thricks up the counthry in the throublesome times, as well as the darlin' doin's of the wreckers nearer home."

"And did you fly also, Hudy?" said Sir George, with an arch smile.

"Did I fly? Bido hocht! Bad luck! - but I can forgive ye, becase ye know no betther. Did I fly? Well, by my sowl an' I did then, but it was to the place, not from it. Augh, Shela did the work that day. By the powers, her an' me played hide-an'-go-seek through the shafts of fifteen cars, before the General's face; an', by my sowl, I banthered iviry wan of his officers, ayther to lape through the shafts of the cars, or crass the counthry wid me, but divil a man among them didn't cow, do ye mind."

"And did you really leap the mare between the shafts of so many cars standing on end?"

"Well, upon my sowl, I did, in through them an' out through them; an', what's more, I got aff her back an' laped through them myself, an' her afther me, an' bad luck to the lape I took she didn't take too; an' then we played thread-the-needle, in, out, an' about them, an' her followin' like a dog, - an' the General stapped the army - an' such whuzzain' and cheerin'! - augh, the fox-hunt was like the crack of a boortree gun to a brattle of thundher, compared to that."

"No wonder the General wished to purchase Shela, after seeing that performance."

"Divil a bit indeed. He wanted her for his wee son, an' gave me my will of two saddle-bags of goold for her. Tam Gabha said I was a fool - but, bad luck to the omadhon, he nivir knowed what it was to love ayther man nor baste. No, no! Shela an' me'll nivir part till death bre'ks her heart or mine, do ye mind."

"I think you are perfectly right, Hudy, and I applaud your good feeling," said the Counsellor; "but, as the evening is setting in, I think we had better waive the present conversation, as I wish to know whether you could spend some time with us at The Hall, on to-morrow evening?"

"Augh, I'm at yer sarvice, Counsellor; but what business may ye have wid me? becase, ye parsave, I don't like to play at long-bullets [road bowling] in the dark."

"Well then, to be plain with you, we are to have a ball on to-morrow evening, at which we expect the presence of all the neighbouring gentry, besides many strangers at present on a visit to us: it occurred to me that you might have no objection to be one of the party."

"Divil have all indeed. By dad it's myself wouldn't ax betther sport, so nivir say't again, do ye mind."

"There will be many ladies present, Hudy," said the Counsellor, insinuating, with professional acumen, a leading question, or, as others might say, throwing out a feeler.

"Whew! by the powers, so much the betther! Bad luck to me if I would thrust a dog's life to the brute that wouldn't be fand of a purty woman!"

"I admire your gallantry, Hudy."

"Admire what? Blood-an-oundhers man didn't I tell the Captain, in your hearin', that I don't understand long English! a plain word nivir hurts the mouth, ye parsave."

"What I meant was, that I was glad to learn you were fond of the ladies."

"Well upon my sowl an' so I am; becase why, ye see, in their presence the dhirty tongue daarn't wag, for dacency's sake, do ye mind. If it wasn't for fear of them, bad scran to me if some young fellows wouldn't make the hair on yer head stand, wid their smutty discoorse an' their abominations. Baugh! bad luck to the unmanly dogs! Blood-an-oundhers! ye would think the brutes forgot they ivir had a mother!"

"Give me your hand, my honest fellow - I do admire your correct and manly sentiments; - but do you dance?"

"Do I dance? Augh, murdher! bad luck to the man in seven counties I couldn't bate down, nor a dance nor a figure ivir I saw I couldn't lift like winkin'!"

"You're just the man I want."

"Well, by the powers, I'm at yer sarvice."

"I'm very much obliged to you, Hudy. Be with us early, that we may have time to mature our plans."

"What hour, Counsellor?"

"Say six o'clock."

"I'll be wid ye to the minute. Beannacht leat."

"Good bye, Hudy."

A touch of the spurs, - Shela headed homewards, and she and her master dashed forward, rejoicing on their way. By the time he arrived at his father's cabin, his mother's wrath had subsided, and she and her hopeful son were able to discuss with some pleasure the stirring incidents of the day. Jack Roe, with his usual gravity, but with no little internal satisfaction, listened to the recital of his lady's fears, fatigues, and "hairbreadth 'scapes". Naturally triumphing in the fulfilment of his prophecy, he said, in his usual dignified style,

"Well, the divil mend you, Jenny, an' a mirry amen say I. I tould ye all that before ye went out, but ye wouldn't take my word for it - ye would have yer own way - 'Ye would follow yer ould figary', as the song sings - an' the divil's cure to ye, an' that's whiskey. Ye made a purty show of yerself before the ladies and gentlemen, an' the full of a fair - ye'll be the counthry's talk for many a day to come."

Mrs McGuigan respected the matured understanding of her husband - she felt the full force of his sage remarks - her very heart admitted their correctness; - but she was a daughter of Eve - and whether a spice of her Great Mother's will had descended to her - but, we may not speculate - one thing is certain, she rather gaily replied,

"Divil may care, Jack, acushla! it's all over now, an' no harm done; there was plenty of women there, both gentle an' simple, as well as me, though they weren't all ridin', an' that's all the difference, so ye may as well hould yer wheesht now."

"Faix it's all the difference indeed Jenny - an' since ye can take it so very aisy, shure I needn't care - but in thrath it's like the fox's cub wid ye, a day oulder an' a day worse, do ye mind."

The Clift, understanding the unyielding disposition of his parents, and dreading a warm discussion, with some tact broke in upon their evident determination.

"Bido hocht, father! divil a betther sport ivir yer eyes beheld, an' upon my conscience my mother kept her sate like a Briton. By the powers she put me in mind of the ould stories tould about Grann Wail, when she went a-huntin', do ye mind."

Between the mother's spirit and the son's prudence, Jack Roe's fire was soon silenced, and things settled down to their usual peaceful level in the cabin of the old chieftain.

This page was last updated 9 Nov 2018