As the day of Mr. Rooney's grand entertainment drew near, our
disappointment increased tenfold at our inability to be present.
The only topic discussed in Dublin was the number of the guests, the
splendour and magnificence of the dinner, which was to be followed by a
ball, at which above eight hundred guests were expected. The band of
the Fermanagh militia, at that time the most celebrated in Ireland, was
brought up expressly for the occasion. All that the city could number of
rank, wealth, and beauty had received invitations, and scarcely a single
apology had been returned.
'Is there no possible way.' said I, as I chatted with O'Grady on the
morning of the event; 'is there no chance of our getting away in time to
see something of the ball at least?'
'None whatever,' replied he despondingly; 'as ill-luck would have it,
it's a command-night at the theatre. The duke has disappointed so often,
that he is sure to go now, and for the same reason he 'll sit the whole
thing out. By that time it will be half-past twelve, we shan't get back
here before one; then comes supper; and---- in fact, you know enough of
the habits of this place now to guess that after that there is very
little use of thinking of going anywhere.'
'It is devilish provoking,' said I.
'That it is: and you don't know the worst of it. I 've got rather a
heavy book on the Loughrea race, and shall want a few hundreds in a week
or so; and, as nothing renders my friend Paul so sulky as not eating his
dinners, it is five-and-twenty per cent, at least out of my pocket, from
this confounded _contretemps_. There goes De Vere. I say, Dudley, whom
have we at dinner to-day?'
'Harrington and the Asgills, and that set,' replied he, with an insolent
shrug of his shoulder.
'More of it, by Jove,' said O'Grady, biting his lip. 'One must be as
particular before these people as a young sub. at a regimental mess.
There's not a button of your coat, not a loop of your aiguillette, not
a twist of your sword-knot, little Charley won't note down; and as there
is no orderly-book in the drawing-room, he will whisper to his grace
before coffee.'
'Whatabore!'
'Ay, and to think that all that time we might have been up to the very
chin in fun. The Rooneys to-day will outdo even themselves. They've got
half-a-dozen new lords on trial; all the judges; a live bishop; and,
better than all, every pretty woman in the capital. I've a devil of a
mind to get suddenly ill, and slip off to Paul's for the dessert.'
'No, no, that's out of the question; we must only put up with our
misfortunes as well as we can. As for me, the dinner here is, I think,
the worst part of the matter.'
'I estimate my losses at a very different rate. First, there is the
three hundred, which I should certainly have had from Paul, and which
now becomes a very crooked contingency. Then there's the dinner and two
bottles--I speak moderately--of such burgundy as nobody has but himself.
These are the positive _bonâ fide_ losses: then, what do you say to my
chance of picking up some lovely girl, with a stray thirty thousand,
and the good taste to look out for a proper fellow to spend it with?
Seriously, Jack, I must think of something of that kind one of these
days. It's wrong to lose time; for, by waiting, one's chances diminish,
while becoming more difficult to please. So you see what a heavy blow
this is to me: not to mention my little gains at short-whist, which in
the half-hour before supper I may fairly set down as a fifty.'
'Yours is a very complicated calculation; for, except the dinner, and
I suppose we shall have as good a one here, I have not been able to see
anything but problematic loss or profit.'
'Of course you haven't: your English education is based upon grounds far
too positive for that; but we mere Irish get a habit of looking at the
possible as probable, and the probable as most likely. I don't think we
build castles more than our neighbours, but we certainly go live in them
earlier; and if we do, now and then, get a chill for our pains, why we
generally have another building ready to receive us elsewhere for change
of air.'
'This is, I confess, somewhat strange philosophy.'
'To be sure it is, my boy; for it is of pure native manufacture.
Every other people I ever heard of deduce their happiness from their
advantages and prosperity. As we have very little of one or the other,
we extract some fun out of our misfortunes; and, what between laughing
occasionally at ourselves, and sometimes at our neighbours, we push
along through life right merrily after all. So now, then, to apply
my theory: let us see what we can do to make the best of this
disappointment. Shall I make love to Lady Asgill? Shall I quiz Sir
Charles about the review? Or can you suggest anything in the way of a
little extemporaneous devilry, to console us for our disappointment?
But, come along, my boy, we'll take a canter; I want to show you
Moddiridderoo. He improves every day in his training; but they tell me
there is only one man can sit him across a country, a fellow I don't
much fancy, by-the-bye; but the turf, like poverty, leads us to form
somewhat strange acquaintances. Meanwhile, my boy, here come the nags;
and now for the park till dinner.'
During our ride O'Grady informed me that the individual to whom he so
slightly alluded was a Mr. Ulick Burke, a cousin of Miss Bellew. This
individual, who by family and connections was a gentleman, had contrived
by his life and habits to disqualify himself from any title to the
appellation in a very considerable degree. Having squandered the entire
of his patrimony on the turf, he had followed the apparently immutable
law on such occasions, and ended by becoming a hawk, where he had begun
as a pigeon. For many years past he had lived by the exercise of those
most disreputable sources, his own wits. Present at every racecourse
in the kingdom, and provided with that undercurrent of information
obtainable from jockeys and stable-men, he understood all the intrigue,
all the low cunning of the course: he knew when to back the favourite,
when to give, when to take the odds; and, if upon any occasion he was
seen to lay heavily against a well-known horse, the presumption became
a strong one, that he was either 'wrong' or withdrawn. But his
qualifications ended not here; for he was also that singular anomaly in
our social condition--a gentleman-rider, ready upon any occasion to get
into the saddle for any one that engaged his services; a flat race, or
a steeplechase, all the same to him. His neck was his livelihood, and to
support, he must risk it. A racing-jacket, a pair of leathers and tops,
a heavy-handled whip, and a shot-belt, were his stock-in-trade, and he
travelled through the world a species of sporting Dalgetty, minus the
probity which made the latter firm to his engagements, so long as they
lasted. At least, report denied the quality to Mr. Burke; and those who
knew him well scrupled not to say that fifty pounds had exactly twice as
many arguments in its favour as five-and-twenty.
So much then in brief concerning a character to whom I shall hereafter
have occasion to recur; and now to my own narrative.
O'Grady's anticipations as to the Castle dinner were not in the least
exaggerated; nothing could possibly be more stiff or tiresome; the
entertainment being given as a kind of _ex officio_ civility, to the
commander-of-the-forces and his staff, the conversation was purely
professional, and never ranged beyond the discussion of military topics,
or such as bore in any way upon the army. Happily, however, its duration
was short. We dined at six, and by half-past eight we found ourselves at
the foot of the grand staircase of the theatre in Crow Street, with Mr.
Jones in the full dignity of his managerial costume waiting to receive
us.
'A little late, I fear, Mr. Jones,' said his grace with a courteous
smile. 'What have we got?'
'Your Excellency selected the _Inconstant_, said the obsequious manager;
while a lady of the party darted her eyes suddenly towards the duke, and
with a tone of marked sarcastic import, exclaimed--
'How characteristic!'
'And the after-piece, what is it?' said the duchess, as she fussed her
way upstairs.
'_Timour the Tartar_, your grace.'
The next moment the thundering applause of the audience informed us that
their Excellencies had taken their places. Cheer after cheer resounded
through the building, and the massive lustre itself shook under the
deafening acclamations of the audience. The scene was truly a brilliant
one. The boxes presented a perfect blaze of wealth and beauty; nearly
every person in the pit was in full dress; to the very ceiling itself
the house was crammed. The progress of the piece was interrupted,
while the band struck up 'God Save the King,' and, as I looked upon
the brilliant dress-circle, I could not but think that O'Grady had been
guilty of some exaggeration when he said that Mrs. Rooney's ball was
to monopolise that evening the youth and the beauty of the capital The
National Anthem over, 'Patrick's Day' was called for loudly from every
side, and the whole house beat time to the strains of their native
melody, with an energy that showed it came as fully home to their hearts
as the air that preceded it. For ten minutes at least the noise and
uproar continued; and, although his grace bowed repeatedly, there seemed
no prospect to an end of the tumult, when a voice from the gallery
called out, 'Don't make a stranger of yourself, my lord; take a chair
and sit down.' A roar of laughter, increased as the duke accepted the
suggestion, shook the house; and poor Talbot, who all this time was
kneeling beside Miss Walstein's chair, was permitted to continue his
ardent tale of love, and take up the thread of his devotion where he had
left it twenty minutes before.
While O'Grady, who sat in the back of the box, seemed absorbed in his
chagrin and disappointment, I myself became interested in the play,
which was admirably performed; and Lord Dudley, leaning affectedly
against a pillar, with his back towards the stage, scanned the house
with his vapid, unmeaning look, as though to say they were unworthy of
such attention at his hands.
The comedy was at length over, and her grace, with the ladies of
her suite, retired, leaving only the Asgills and some members of
the household in the box with his Excellency. He apparently was much
entertained by the performance, and seemed most resolutely bent on
staying to the last. Before the first act, however, of the after-piece
was over, many of the benches in the dress-circle became deserted, and
the house altogether seemed considerably thinner.
'I say, O'Grady,' said he, 'what are these good people about? There
seems to be a general move among them. Is there anything going on?'
'Yes, your grace,' said Phil, whose impatience now could scarcely be
restrained, 'they are going to a great ball in Stephen's Green; the most
splendid thing Dublin has witnessed these fifty years.'
'Ah, indeed! Where is it? Who gives it?' 'Mr. Rooney, sir, a very
well-known attorney, and a great character in the town.'
'How good! And he does the thing well?' 'He flatters himself that he
rivals your grace.' 'Better still! But who has he? What are his people?'
'Every one; there is nothing too high, nothing too handsome, nothing too
distinguished for him. His house, like the Holyhead packet, is open
to all comers, and the consequence is, his parties are by far the
pleasantest thing going. One has such strange rencontres, sees such odd
people, hears such droll things; for, besides having everything like a
character in the city, the very gravest of Mr. Rooney's guests seems to
feel his house as a place to relax and unbend in. Thus, I should not be
the least surprised to see the Chief-Justice and the Attorney-General
playing small plays, nor the Bishop of Cork dancing Sir Roger de
Coverley.'
'Glorious fun, by Jove! But why are you not there, lads? Ah, I see;
on duty. I wish you had told me. But come, it is not too late yet. Has
Hinton got a card?'
'Yes, your grace.'
'Well, then, don't let me detain you any longer. I see you are both
impatient; and 'faith, if I must confess it, I half envy you; and mind
and give me a full report of the proceedings to-morrow morning.'
'How I wish your grace could only witness it yourself!'
'Eh? Is it so very good, then?'
'Nothing ever was like it; for, although the company is admirable, the
host and hostess are matchless.'
'Egad! you've quite excited my curiosity. I say, O'Grady, would they
know me, think ye? Have you no uncle or country cousin about my weight
and build?'
'Ah, my lord, that is out of the question; you are too well known to
assume an incognito. But still, if you wish to see it for a few minutes,
nothing could be easier than just to walk through the rooms and come
away. The crowd will be such, the thing is quite practicable, done in
that way.'
'By Jove, I don't know; but if I thought---- To be sure, as you say, for
five minutes or so one might get through. Come, here goes; order up the
carriages. Now mind, O'Grady, I am under your management. Do the thing
as quietly as you can.'
Elated at the success of his scheme, Phil scarcely waited for his grace
to conclude, but sprang down the box-lobby to give the necessary orders,
and was back again in an instant.
'Don't you think I had better take this star off?'
'Oh no, my lord, it will not be necessary. By timing the thing well,
we'll contrive to get your grace into the midst of the crowd without
attracting observation. Once there, the rest is easy enough.'
Many minutes had not elapsed ere we reached the corner of Grafton
Street. Here we became entangled with the line of carriages, which
extended more than half-way round Stephen's Green, and, late as was the
hour, were still thronging and pressing onwards towards the scene
of festivity. O'Grady, who contrived entirely to engross his grace's
attention by many bits of the gossip and small-talk of the day, did not
permit him to remark that the viceregal liveries and the guard of honour
that accompanied us enabled us to cut the line of carriages, and
taking precedence of all others, arrive at the door at once. Indeed, so
occupied was the duke with some story at the moment, that he was half
provoked as the door was flung open, and the clattering clash of the
steps interrupted the conversation.
'Here we are, my lord,' said Phil.
'Well, get out, O'Grady. Lead on. Don't forget it is my first visit
here; and you, I fancy, know the map of the country.'
The hall in which we found ourselves, brilliantly lighted and thronged
with servants, presented a scene of the most strange confusion and
tumult; for, such was the eagerness of the guests to get forward, many
persons were separated from their friends: turbaned old ladies called
in cracked voices for their sons to rescue them, and desolate daughters
seized distractedly the arm nearest them, and implored succour with an
accent as agonising as though on the eve of shipwreck. Mothers screamed,
fathers swore, footmen laughed, and high above all came the measured
tramp of the dancers overhead, while fiddles, French horns, and
dulcimers scraped and blew their worst, as if purposely to increase the
inextricable and maddening confusion that prevailed.
'Sir Peter and Lady Macfarlane!' screamed the servant at the top of the
stairs.
'Counsellor and Mrs. Blake!'
'Captain O'Ryan of the Rifles!'
'Lord Dumboy-----'
'Dunboyne, you villain!'
'Ay, Lord Dunboyne and five ladies!'
Such were the announcements that preceded us as we wended our way slowly
on, while I could distinguish Mr. Rooney's voice receiving and welcoming
his guests, for which purpose he used a formula, in part derived from
the practice of an auction-room.
'Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, walk in. Whist, tea, dancing, negus, and
blind-hookey--delighted to see you--walk in'; and so, _da capo_, only
varying the ritual when a lord or a baronet necessitated a change of
title.
'You're quite right, O'Grady; I wouldn't have lost this for a great
deal,' whispered the duke.
'Now, my lord, permit me,' said Phil. 'Hinton and I will engage Mr.
Rooney in conversation, while your grace can pass on and mix with the
crowd.'
'Walk in, walk in, ladies and---- Ah! how are you, Captain? This is
kind of you---- Mr. Hinton, your humble servant---- Whist, dancing,
blind-hookey, and negus--walk in--and, Captain Phil,' added he in a
whisper, 'a bit of supper by-and-by below-stairs.'
'I must tell you an excellent thing, Rooney, before I forget it,' said
O'Grady, turning the host's attention away from the door as he spoke,
and inventing some imaginary secret for the occasion; while I followed
his grace, who now was so inextricably jammed up in the dense mob that
any recognition of him would have been very difficult, if not actually
impossible.
For some time I could perceive that the duke's attention was devoted to
the conversation about him. Some half-dozen ladies were carrying on a
very active and almost acrimonious controversy on the subject of dress;
not, however, with any artistic pretension of regulating costume or
colour, not discussing the rejection of an old or the adoption of a
new mode, but with a much more practical spirit of inquiry they were
appraising and valuing each other's finery, in the most sincere and
simple way imaginable.
'Seven-and-sixpence a yard, my dear; you 'll never get it less, I assure
you.' 'That's elegant lace, Mrs. Mahony; was it run, ma'am?' Mrs. Mahony
bridled at the suggestion, and replied that, though neither her lace nor
her diamonds were Irish---- 'Six breadths, ma'am, always in the skirt,'
said a fat, little, dumpy woman, holding up her satin petticoat in
evidence.
'I say, Hinton,' whispered the duke, 'I hope they won't end by an
examination of us. But what the deuce is going on here?'
This remark was caused by a very singular movement in the room.
The crowd which had succeeded to the dancers, and filled the large
drawing-room from end to end, now fell back to either wall, leaving a
space of about a yard wide down the entire centre of the room, as though
some performance was about to be enacted or some procession to march
there.
'What can it be?' said the duke; 'some foolery of O'Grady's, depend upon
it; for look at him up there talking to the band.'
As he spoke, the musicians struck up the grand march in _Blue Beard_,
and Mrs. Paul Rooney appeared in the open space, in all the plenitude of
her charms--a perfect blaze of rouge, red feathers, and rubies--marching
in solemn state. She moved along in time to the music, followed by Paul,
whose cunning eyes twinkled with more than a common shrewdness, as he
peered here and there through the crowd. They came straight towards
where we were standing; and while a whispered murmur ran through the
room, the various persons around us drew back, leaving the duke
and myself completely isolated. Before his grace could recover his
concealment, Mrs. Rooney stood before him. The music suddenly ceased;
while the lady, disposing her petticoats as though the object were to
conceal all the company behind her, curtsied down to the very floor.
'Ah, your grace,' uttered in an accent of the most melting tenderness,
were the only words she could speak, as she bestowed a look of still
more speaking softness. 'Ah, did I ever hope to see the day when your
Highness would honour----'
'My dear madam,' said the duke, taking her hand with great courtesy,
'pray don't overwhelm me with obligations. A very natural, I hope a very
pardonable desire, to witness hospitality I have heard so much of, has
led me to intrude thus uninvited upon you. Will you allow me to make Mr.
Rooney's acquaintance?'
Mrs. Rooney moved gracefully to one side, waving her hand with the air
of a magician about to summons an attorney from the earth, when suddenly
a change came over his grace's features; and, as he covered his mouth
with his handkerchief, it was with the greatest difficulty he refrained
from an open burst of laughter. The figure before him was certainly not
calculated to suggest gravity.
Mr. Paul Rooney for the first time in his life found himself the host
of a viceroy, and, amid the fumes of his wine and the excitement of
the scene, entertained some very confused notion of certain ceremonies
observable on such occasions. He had read of curious observances in the
East, and strange forms of etiquette in China, and probably, had the
Khan of Tartary dropped in on the evening in question, his memory would
have supplied him with some hints for his reception; but, with the
representative of Britannic Majesty, before whom he was so completely
overpowered, he could not think of, nor decide upon anything. A very
misty impression flitted through his mind, that people occasionally
knelt before a Lord Lieutenant; but whether they did so at certain
moments, or as a general practice, for the life of him he could not
tell. While, therefore, the dread of omitting a customary etiquette
weighed with him on the one hand, the fear of ridicule actuated him on
the other; and thus he advanced into the presence with bent knees and a
supplicating look eagerly turned towards the duke, ready at any moment
to drop down or stand upright before him as the circumstances might
warrant.
[Illustration: 128]
Entering at once into the spirit of the scene, the duke bowed with
the most formal courtesy, while he vouchsafed to Mr. Rooney some few
expressions of compliment. At the same time, drawing Mrs. Rooney's arm
within his own, he led her down the room, with a grace and dignity of
manner no one was more master of than himself. As for Paul, apparently
unable to stand upright under the increasing load of favours that
fortune was showering upon his head, he looked over his shoulder at Mrs.
Rooney, as she marched off in triumph, with the same exuberant triumph
Young used to throw into Othello, as he passionately exclaims--
'Excellent wench I perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee!'
Not but that, at the very moment in question, the object of it was most
ungratefully oblivious of Mr. Rooney and his affection.
Had Mrs. Paul Rooney been asked on the morning after her ball, what
was her most accurate notion of Elysian bliss, she probably would have
answered--leaning upon a viceroy's arm in her own ball-room, under the
envious stare and jealous gaze of eight hundred assembled guests. Her
flushed look, her flashing eye, the trembling hand with which she waved
her fan, the proud imperious step, all spoke of triumph. In fact,
such was the halo of reverence, such the reflected brightness the
representative of monarchy then bore, she felt it a prouder honour to
be thus escorted, than if the Emperor of all the Russias had deigned
to grace her mansion with his presence. How she loved to run over every
imaginable title she conceived applicable to his rank, 'Your Royal
Highness,' 'Your Grace,' 'Your noble Lordship,' varying and combining
them like a a child who runs his erring fingers over the keys of a
pianoforte, and is delighted with the efforts of his skill.
While this kingly scene was thus enacting, the ballroom resumed its
former life and vivacity. This indeed was owing to O'Grady. No sooner
had his scheme succeeded of delivering up the duke into the hands of the
Rooneys, than he set about restoring such a degree of turmoil, tumult,
noise, and merriment, as, while it should amuse his grace, would rescue
him from the annoyance of being stared at by many who never had walked
the boards with a live viceroy.
'Isn't it gloriously done, Hinton?' he whispered in my ear as he passed.
'Now lend me your aid, my boy, to keep the whole thing moving. Get a
partner as quick as you can, and let us try if we can't do the honours
of the house, while the master and mistress are basking in the sunshine
of royal favour.'
As he spoke, the band struck up 'Haste to the Wedding!' The dancers
assumed their places--Phil himself flying hither and thither, arranging,
directing, ordering, countermanding, providing partners for persons he
had never seen before, and introducing individuals of whose very names
he was ignorant.
'Push along, Hinton,' said he; 'only set them going. Speak to every
one--half the men in the room answer to the name of “Bob,” and all the
young ladies are “Miss Magees.” Then go it, my boy; this is a great
night for Ireland!'
This happy land, indeed, which, like a vast powder-magazine, only wants
but the smallest spark to ignite it, is always prepared for an explosion
of fun. No sooner than did O'Grady, taking out the fattest woman in the
room, proceed to lead her down the middle to the liveliest imaginable
country-dance, than at once the contagious spirit flew through the
room, and dancers pressed in from every side. Champagne served round in
abundance, added to the excitement; and, as eight-and-thirty couple made
the floor vibrate beneath them, such a scene of noise, laughter, uproar,
and merriment ensued, as it were difficult to conceive or describe.