Hudy XVIIb

Chapter XVIIb - The Ball: Hudy Makes his Entrance

Hudy, faithful to his engagement, found himself next evening, at the appointed hour, in company with his new friends. Whatever may have been their business, it was easily arranged, and our hero was soon disposed of for the time being. The mansion had now become a scene of great activity and bustle: servants running hither and thither - coaches arriving and departing - company pouring in from all quarters - the entertainers [ie the hosts] courteously receiving their guests, while all, with becoming excitement, anxiously anticipated the delights of the approaching festivities. We are grieved to be obliged to omit a description of the dinner, dresses, &c., &c., suffice it to say that, though it was not a "Galway feed," every delicacy of the season lent a relish to the more substantial fare, while the urbanity of the hospitable entertainers gave a zest to a feast that might have gratified the morbid appetite of the veriest gourmand that the London board of Aldermen could boast. But naboclish. The dancing commenced, and consequently all was gaiety, hilarity, and enjoyment; yet something like a mystery sat upon the brows of certain young gents, among whom the droll glance and the significant wink, maugre the dicta of Chesterfield, were observed to be interchanged.

It was just in the middle of a contredanse, when the light heart urged the light feet through the joyous whirl, that a servant handed a letter to the Counsellor. He perused it with seeming interest and, presenting it to Sir George Hill, requested his opinion of its contents. The latter replied with some hesitation, and referred for sounder advice to others of the party; the letter was therefore circulated through the gentlemen, till the curiosity of everyone present was raised to a high pitch: at length an old gentleman, tired with such trifling, publicly enquired the import of the document.

"Why," said the Counsellor, "it is a note from a stranger, a foreigner of rank, if I may judge from his name and title, who requests permission to join in our amusements, and I am really puzzled to know how to act; 'twere ungracious to deny him the rights of hospitality - but in this case we have a high tribunal to refer to - I shall be guided by the opinion of the ladies. What say you, my fair and discreet judges?"

"Oh! admit him, by all means"" - "admit him" - "admit him," was pronounced by every lady in the assembly.

"Very well - I am all submission. Show the gentleman up." And "the chevalier Godwino" - "the chevalier Godwino" - was heard announced by every servant in waiting. A quick light step sounded audibly upon the stairs - breathless expectation reigned in the ballroom - "Silence was pleased", though curiosity sat upon the rack - every eye was turned towards the door - it opened - whew! - with the most graceful somersault imaginable, in whirled a naked man to the very centre of the room, and alighted in the midst of a group of ladies!

"Let fancy plume her wings, - and image scenes
As ludicrous as gay conception paints:
Imagination fails to sketch, with truth,
The whim, the humour, and the deep surprise,
Created by this act."

Have you ever seen the alarm of a brood of chickens on the swoop of a hungry hawk? Have you ever witnessed the rapid dispersion of a flock of sheep when attacked by a stranger dog? Then you may have some idea of the terror and confusion exhibited on the unexpected entrée of the singular apparition. What a wild uproar - what a chaos of conflicting elements - what an aimless rushing and mixing of all parties - what a screaming from the ladies - what awful scowls and indignant threats from the gentlemen! the outraged delicacy of the softer sex naturally rousing the gallantry of their friends and protectors, while the peals of laughter from those in the secret, and who were soon found congregated round the stranger, shocked the wounded feelings of the one party, as much as it confused and baffled the reasoning powers of the other.

The first alarm over, - the fathers, brothers, or husbands of the affrighted ladies rushed round the convulsed group, with fierce determination to resent the flagrant insult; - but what was the surprise of the females - all cowering in one corner - to behold their champions, as if affected by some mysterious sympathy, relinquishing their hostile views, and joining in the laugh quite as earnestly and uproariously as those whom they had at first determined to chastise? Their surprise, however, gave way to terror, on seeing Sir George Hill separating from the party, and politely leading by the hand the naked stranger in the very direction of their place of refuge. The loud screams were again raised, - but the Baronet, pausing at a respectful distance, and gracefully waving his hand, playfully said,

"Ladies, I have the honor of introducing to your special notice the renowned and celebrated Chevalier Godwino."

"Augh, blood-an-oundhers, ladies, darlin's, don't mind him - by my sowl that's only a gag of Jack Archy's - my name's Hudy McGuigan, at yer sarvice, an' don't be the laste afeard, for divil a naked bit's in my body, barrin' my face an' hands, do ye mind."

Tickled with the singular address, and satisfied of the truth of the Clift's assertions, the ladies became gradually reassured; and reading a solution of the enigmatic conduct of their gentlemen, not only ventured a look upon the author of their late alarm, but soon joined heartily in the laugh at the trick so cleverly played off at their own expense. In further explanation, they learned that the Counsellor was a passionate admirer of theatricals - had been an amateur of some note, and was provided with a flesh-coloured tight dress, &c., &c., with which he had invested our hero, and which, in the glare of light and excitement of the moment, was not easily distinguishable from the natural skin.

The flutter once over, the ladies very good-naturedly forgave their tormentors; and entering freely into conversation with their new acquaintance, found much to amuse, and even something to compensate them for their late terror, in the easy bearing and racy replies of the Quarterclift. Among those who enjoyed the incidental addition to the hilarities of the evening, none entered so freely into the frolic as the equally talented and amiable Lady Hill, who, deeply imbued with a love of the ludicrous, possessed in a high degree that never-palling penchant for fun which distinguished her husband Sir George. She therefore rapidly and correctly read the character of our hero - brought all her abilities into play - attached herself closely to him for the rest of the evening, and drew him out in a style which surprised all beholders.

"Do you dance, Chevalier?" said Lady Hill, with a glance that threw the company into a roar.

"Do I dance? Augh, maybe not, - jist give me a thrial an' see!"

"Well then, I'm disengaged for the next set - but perhaps you may not understand our figures?"

"Divil a fears, medem! Bad luck to all comes wrong to me, whether it's jig, reel, counthry dance, rigadoon, hornpipe, or petticoattee, do ye mind."

"I'm delighted to hear that - so we had better take our stands."

"Wid all my heart - upon my conscience I'm proud of the liberty, medem."

And, gracefully making his bow, he took her hand and led her to the top of the room, with as much nonchalance and easy gallantry as if doing the agreeable to one of his equals in a farmer's barn. The scene was too much even for the conjurors whose magic had summoned it into existence. The Counsellor, Sir George, and the Captain, in short the whole party, were in fits of laughter, not knowing whether to admire more the arch drollery, power of face, and good humour of the lady, or the unsuspecting, devil-may-care, quite-at-home mien of the Clift. But the set was in process of formation, and though Lady Hill's position was conceded without murmur, yet a sharp struggle for precedence immediately took place, as every fair dame was extremely anxious to be located within hearing of the chief performers. At length, all being settled, the Clift, with marked gallantry, said to his fascinating partner,

"What tune would ye choose, medem?"

"I shall leave the selection to your own good taste, Chevalier."

Of what English ambassador, and what king of France, is the anecdote told which so strongly tests the nature of true politeness? - everybody must have heard it - but lest some may have forgotten it, the substance may as well be here repeated. Valuing lightly the jealous opinions of his nobles, the Grand Monarque deemed the ambassador the most polite man at his court, and sought occasion, during a heavy shower, and just when he was about to enter his coach, to prove the correctness of his opinion. The court was standing uncovered - the ambassador made way for his majesty - the king in return beckoned him into the coach - the ambassador hesitated not a moment, but instantaneously obeyed the mandate, the king thanking him for his promptitude in saving him a wetting, and declaring his conviction that this act alone stamped him the most polite man of the age. Thus it was with Hudy McGuigan. His breeding was of too high a tone to dispute for a moment a lady's will; yet, though he lost no time, like many a Billy Fribble, in an unnecessary show of deference, he thought it his duty to venture a hint, still leaving it in the power of his gay partner to decide; therefore, with great blandness of manner, he said,

"What would ye think, medem, of 'Aff she goes', or 'Moll in the wad', or 'Jenny banged the Waver', or 'The wind that shakes the barley'?"

"Oh!" said Lady Hill, with a smile that evidently told on the Clift's nerves, "I should infinitely prefer the first."

"Upon my sowl I admire yer taste, medem, becase why, it's a rattlin' tune, ye parsave, an', more betoken, it's the very wan the Duchess of Rutland led aff to in her first ball at Dublin Castle, do ye mind. Come fiddlers! play 'Aff she goes', wid 'Money in both pockets'. Strike up bouldly! Elbow grease is the best rosin, yer sowls!"

The musicians obeyed. The Clift's eye brightened - Lady Hill was delighted - the party was in ecstasies! Was it any wonder? eh!

"Whew, yer sowls, clear the coorse! here goes!"

And down the middle, and up again, the athletic and active Clift whisked his mirth-loving and agile companion, in the most gallant style imaginable. Lady Hill, the daughter of an extensive landed proprietor, had ever been the patroness and active promoter of the innocent sports of the peasantry; and at the fêtes given (at her suggestion) by her father to his tenantry, she mixed in their amusements, danced with them on the lawn, and rendered them happy by her kindness and condescension: she had thus become a fitting partner for our hero, being as well skilled in the mysteries of the rustic dance as in the more measured, but less exciting, haut ton movements of the brilliant ballroom.

"You are a most splendid dancer, Chevalier," said Lady Hill, as she breathed after her exhausting exercise.

"Augh, the divil a betther, - an', by the powers, it's yerself that foots it nately, an' well."

"How do you like our style of dancing, in general?"

"Not well, by the powers, - upon my conscience I'm in no consait wid it - jist look at them now, there they go sweemin' about like as many cats pickin' their steps among eggs. Bad luck to the dancer I see here but the Counsellor an' yerself that can bate time to the music, an' by my sowl, there's nayther of yez afeared to make use of the limbs the Lord was plaised to give ye."

"Oh fy, Chevalier! you surely must admire that young lady who is just leading downwards now."

"Augh murdher! - by the powers yer doin' me to my face. Is it her wid the high showldhers? an' her head - shure ye would swear there was a fifty-six [56lb weight] hung to it; - there she goes, cantherin' away like a powney hurt in the wind."

"You're as severe in your strictures as fastidious in your taste, Chevalier. I presume, however, you can find little fault with the lady immediately following?"

"Blood-an-oundhers! Well, bad scran to me but ye're a home-hitter. Is it that randlethree ye mane, in the yallow dhress? By the powers she's as stiff as a new-made constable! I wonder has she swallowed a curtain-rod?"

"Oh! fy, fy! I am half inclined, Chevalier, to call your gallantry in question: I fear you're a woman-hater."

"Out for wanst wid all yer clivirness, by the powers! Divil a man in existence fander of lookin' an a purty woman; though, to tell the thruth, it's not iviry scantlin' that plaises me."

"And pray what scantling would please you, Chevalier? I shall be so happy to learn your taste. I am quite convinced your idea of female excellence must be of the loftiest and most correct order."

"What shap do ye buy yer soap in, medem? by my sowl ye're a capityal marchant! Yer custom would make a poor fellow up, do ye mind. But, afther all, it wouldn't be aisy for me to tell the perfections that would plaise me; though faix if I had a looking-glass I would soon show ye."

"Very well indeed, Chevalier. I wonder who's the flatterer now?" said Lady Hill, bursting into an unfeigned and hearty fit of laughter.

"What do I hear?" said Sir George, who, with his partner, had just taken his stand beside our hero; "I hope, Chevalier, you have not been whispering soft tales to Lady Hill in my absence."

"Augh 'but ye're full of butther,' as the ould woman said to the churn. By my sowl a betther man daarn't take the liberty, or I'm far out. It's herself knows how to pick her lone, do ye mind!"

The ready reply of the Clift had the due effect; Sir George, and all within earshot, were perfectly convulsed; and Lady Hill's powers had scarcely enabled her to thank our hero for his favorable opinion when the Counsellor joined the party.

"I say, Counsellor, by the powers I'm glad to see ye! Sir George has been scoggin' me a bit here, do ye mind; though in thrath I think it would have been fitther he had got his Lady a toothful of somethin' to wet her whistle. She's too warm, ye parsave. By my sowl if I had known the ways of the house, I would have had it for her myself long ago, do ye mind."

"Really, Chevalier, you make me blush; but Lady Hill's good nature will pardon my remissness. Shall I order a glass of negus, or would your Ladyship prefer walking to the saloon?"

"The Chevalier's politeness shall not be balked," said the lady, smiling; and, preserving her cue, she caught our hero's arm and led the way to the saloon, where she condescended to partake of some refreshments presented by her partner.

"A glass of wine, or brandy, or pure poteen, Chevalier?" said the Counsellor.

"Divil a dhrap indeed! though faix I'm not the less beholden to ye. Augh, catch me dhrinkin' liquor! In thrath I'm bad enough and mad enough as it is; but the grog - whew! - by the powers it would make a parfect balyore of me! It's the divil's drug, anyhow. Bad luck to the man ivir I knowed to get wiser by takin' it, do ye mind."

"Right, Chevalier," said the delighted Counsellor, surprised with such sentiments from such a quarter: "an over-indulgence has ruined thousands; but I see no harm in the temperate use of liquor, - it is the abuse we ought to condemn."

"Out, by the powers, Counsellor, wid all yer knowledge of the law. Bad scran to me but, as my ould father says, the whole danger lies in the first glass; an' he should know, - for many's the hearty swig the same ould chap took, do ye mind."

"Well really, Chevalier, I do not see how you could maintain that view."

"Augh, faix it's as easy as kiss my hand, do ye mind: if ye don't take the first glass, by my sowl I defy ye to take the second; - there now, will that do?"

"Fairly beaten at your own weapons, Counsellor," said Lady Hill. "Yet I must remind you, gentlemen, the subject is too abstruse for a lady's limited understanding. I should rather discuss those topics suggested by the present moment. I regret to think, Counsellor, that our style of dancing does not harmonize with the Chevalier's taste."

"No more it does, by the powers! I nivir could bear to see men or women sailin' about like senseless pappets in a show, widout any use of their limbs. Whew! give me the fellow that can bring the music out of the floor, like a pair of dhrum-sticks an a dhrum head, do ye mind."

"I'm quite of your opinion, Chevalier," said the Counsellor. "I do think that the ancient style of dancing, now unhappily falling into disuse, is vastly superior to that so much in vogue with those who, though very justly despising French politics, are too fond of admitting, by their servile imitation, the superiority of Gallic manners and customs: I dislike such conduct, because it is anti-national."

"Thrue for ye, Counsellor; bad luck to the dance ivir I saw like the Irish jig, or the old hornpipe, do ye mind, - by my sowl a fellow wouldn't need to be knittin' stockin's that would follow a bould elbow through all the steps of 'Maggy Pickins', or 'The Dusty Miller', ye parsave."

"Well I must confess, though partial to hornpipes, that it has never been my good fortune to see one danced to my mind."

"By my sowl then, ye'll not have the same story to tell the morrow, or it'll be yer own fault; for, bad luck to me, but I could dance wan an a pewther plate widout ivir dingin' the rim, do ye mind."

"Oh! of all things, Chevalier, let us have the hornpipe," said Lady Hill, in her most persuasive style. "I have not been gratified with such a treat for years - not since Sir George took it into his wise head to change my name."

"Well, by the powers, ye may have ten if ye like; but in thrath I think Sir George showed he was no twitther when he did that same: if he was a fool in his life before, by my sowl I think he had his seven senses complate that day, anyhow."

"Thank you, Chevalier, for the compliment," said the Baronet. "I appropriate it to myself, though your refined notions of gallantry may have designed it to tell double."

This page was last updated 7 Nov 2018