Hudy XVIII

Chapter XVIII - Trifles

Honor and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part - there all the honor lies. Pope

Right, thou little crooked philosopher! - right, beyond the power of contradiction. Though thou art sometimes splenetic, and infirm of temper, we have ever dearly loved to pore upon the emanations of thy strong, acute, and, albeit system-bound, yet not less valuable genius. How many chapters might be written by the lovers of amplification from the couplet we have chosen for our present motto! How many instances of great men in humble callings might we adduce to verify the aphorism, including Goldsmith's philosophic cobbler, and the two Italian barbers who shed such light on science by their patient toils, travels, &c. But only two, and they most celebrated individuals, will we select for our present purpose: Garrick, the divine Garrick, was great in the character of "Hamlet", great in the character of "Richard", and equally great in the character of a valet or stable-boy; 'twas simply the merit of his acting that gained him a world's applause. Thus was it with Hudy McGuigan: great as an equestrian, great as a bovestrian (we have a right to coin the word), great as a fencer, great as a dancer, great as - as - as - a what not! 'Twas not the character he assumed, but the unequalled sustainment of that character, that has handed him down to everlasting fame. Garrick was the spoiled child of fortune, and got drunk with the applause of his admirers - Hudy McGuigan loathed soap, yet loved he solid glory; and therefore in this point of view he greatly excelled him who, notwithstanding his splendid gifts and stupendous stock of never-dying glory, could not rest satisfied with the well-earned plaudits of "the judicious" if he were not also "be-rosciused" by "the groundlings". Alas! for his infirmity of temper,

Who could part with his friends, as the Clift would his pack;
For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back.

But why drive the parallel farther. It is evident on all points that Garrick cannot bear comparison with the subject of our biographical sketch, "becase why", the latter was always "natural, simple, affecting"; the former, if we are to believe Goldsmith, only so when upon the stage. But having proved the truth of our motto and its perfect applicability to our hero, we may as well resume the thread of our discourse.

After quitting the ball-room, the Clift pursued his journey and arrived at the humble dwelling of his father in as happy a state of mind as ever mortal enjoyed. His affectionate mother, not having retired to rest, received him with her usual kindness; and he in return delighted "her ould heart" with a vivid description of the fairy scenes through which he had wandered, under the spell of the gay enchantress whose wand turned everything it touched into gold.

"An' Hudy acushla," said his half-sceptical parent, "are ye in airnest now - an' did ye dance wid the ladies?"

"Bido hocht, mother darlin'! Did ivir man or mortal know me to tell a lie? Did I dance wid the ladies? Well in thrath I did then, wid iviry sowl of them, an' my own partner, Lady Hill, was the flower of the flock, do ye mind; an' by my sowl, an' that's an oath, she gave me the prefayrence the whole night - for divil a man nor mother's son danced wid her but myself."

"Well a hesky, it's time to go to bed; though faix I wouldn't weary listenin' to you till mornin', but yer ould father's sleepin' this two hours."

"In thrath then I'll go - but will ye look at that."

And he threw off the great-coat that had hitherto concealed his dress.

"Augh Chierna, Hudy, avic mavourneen, are ye sthark naked this bitther could night!"

"By the powers mother, I doubt ye're doatin' - catch my arm."

She did so, and felt quite astonished. The Clift laughed heartily at her mistake; but he forgot that the bright eyes which had once fascinated the last chieftain of the sept McGuigan were now becoming dim with age, and that the tiny blaze of her rush-light lent them only a feeble and a flickering assistance.

"Mile murdher Hudy, where did ye get that - was it the Lady gave it to ye a hesky?"

"Thunder-an-ages mother, are ye gone mad - was it a lady gave it to me? Well by the powers! What the blazes would a lady do wid a tight dhress?"

"By my sowl ma bouchal then, myself thinks it would fit them betther nor the men, an' be dacenter for them too, do ye mind."

"Bad luck to all ye know about it mother darlin'; shure it was the Counsellor got it made for himself, when he used to be actin' the plays; an' he gave it to me, an' he bid me wear it for his sake; an' maybe I won't! but naboclish! A good night's sleep to ye mother - beannacht leat."

And the mother and son separated for the night. It will be readily admitted that excitement, whether of a painful or a pleasurable nature, is not by any means conducive to sleep. It will be further granted that, taking all the circumstances into consideration, never man more required the aid of a Hypnologist; but that grand discovery not having been then made, hours passed before the drowsy god deigned to shed his poppy influence on our hero's eyelids. Sleep came at length - but whew! - the dreams! What a pity we cannot record them. One thing however we may readily conceive: that they wafted back his spirit to the gay assembly, whirled it through the mazes of the dance, and kept it in the delightful flutter of continued and triumphant action.

But the first rays of the sun, in the most unfriendly manner possible, take sad liberties with both fog and dreams; and therefore did the Clift from his uncurtained couch spring with the dawn into the bustle of real life as gay as the lark, and as ready as ever for encountering either a harmless frolic, or a serious splore. "It was all wan to him, do ye mind!"

This page was last updated 7 Nov 2018