THE MASQUERADE AT THE PANTHEON.
The two women had passed the entire day in arranging their dominos. Only
an occasional echo of the popular disturbance had reached them; and when
they learned that a great crowd had surrounded Parliament, Mrs. Marsham,
who was not easily disquieted, remarked: "That's good! It is the
petition against the papists." And she dismissed the subject from her
mind once and for all.
As for Esther, a great calm had replaced her agitation of the preceding
evening. The gypsy's prediction, the Shakespearean oracle, together with
the conspiracy of things in general so far as her vanity was concerned,
failed to prevail against the sentiment hidden away in the depths of her
heart. She had arrived at a determination and proposed to abide by it.
She would go to the ball, would have as pleasant a time as she could,
but she would not permit herself to be led away. She would not notice
any such preconcerted signal as "The moon is risen!" She was resolved to
act thus--unless at the last minute, and actuated by some new caprice,
she did exactly the contrary.
Esther was ready in good time, and Mrs. Marsham, although much slower,
was not behind hand in joining her in the parlor.
About nine o'clock, shortly after nightfall (for these were the longest
days of the year), the women were startled by a great hubbub at the
door, which resembled the hooting of children. In her curiosity and
impatience Esther hastened to open the door, and discovered to her
amazement, in the midst of a dozen or more boys who were throwing mud at
him, a strange creature dressed like a gentleman but wearing the
enormous head of an ass. The monster, who seemed either blind or
intoxicated, bolted into the garden, slamming the gate behind him.
"Shut the door, quick!" muttered an indistinct voice which issued from
the snout of the animal. "Can't you see they're hunting me?"
Mechanically the young girl obeyed, and then the intruder quickly
removed his artificial head and displayed to the women the pale,
haggard, dripping features of their friend, the music teacher.
"Mr. O'Flannigan!"
"O'Flannigan himself, astonished that he is still alive to tell the
tale! Did you see those madmen?"
"Madmen! Why, the eldest was not more than twelve years of age."
"Are you sure of it?"
"Of course. But why this ass's head?"
"Well, they are having a terrible time with the Catholics this evening,
and I thought it wise to be in disguise; and it's all right, since we
are going to a masquerade ball. I hired from the property room at Drury
Lane the ass's head which Bottom wears in the 'Midsummer-Night's Dream.'
It fits me, does it not?"
"As if it had been made for you!"
[Illustration]
"Unfortunately, in passing Charing Cross my chair was stopped and turned
upside down by the populace, and my bearers deserted me like cowards. I
hastily put on my ass's head, but evidently not quickly enough to avoid
being recognized. I took to my heels, and they gave chase, screaming,
'Drown the papist!' and they would have been as good as their threat."
Esther burst out laughing.
"Bah! a parcel of children amusing themselves at your expense!" she
said.
"Yes, children! For that reason I refrained from drawing my sword. Ah,
had I had men to deal with, they would have paid dearly for their
insolence!"
"You have indeed been magnanimous, Mr. O'Flannigan, which was worthy of
you.--Now let us set out without further loss of time."
"But are the streets safe?" queried Mrs. Marsham.
"I believe it is all over. At least I hear nothing."
In fact it was the moment of cessation of hostilities when the rioters
evacuated the Palace Yard.
Without accident a hired carriage conveyed the two women and their
escort to Oxford Road, where the Pantheon was situated.
The passion for masked balls which had been the delight of the
contemporaries of the first two Georges had received a serious check
about the middle of the century, at the time that Europe was terrified
by the report of earthquakes. London believed herself upon the eve of
experiencing the fate which had befallen Lisbon. Indeed, a prophet
appeared in the streets who announced the destruction of the city upon a
certain date. On the night preceding the fateful day a great part of the
population emigrated and encamped in the open air; but, though the
dreaded event passed without catastrophe, a vague terror prevailed,
paralyzing all sorts of pleasure. From their pulpits the popular
preachers thundered against the vices of the day, and especially against
the abominable license of masked balls. God was about to chastise
England; already was His arm upraised against her. No more masquerades,
or a rain of fire and brimstone would devour the new Babylon; the earth
would yawn and engulf in its entrails the sinners, with their infamous
tinsel and their masks, which hid all their impurities. Thus attired
they would appear before their pitiless Master, and would pass from the
laughter and intoxication of the dance hall straight into the
inexpressible anguish of the last Judgment!
Thus at one fell swoop the masked balls disappeared.
By degrees, however, the panic calmed, was forgotten, and in time became
a historic memory. The strong-minded even risked a smile at the
recollection.
The first time that a purveyor of amusement spoke of resuscitating
masked balls a wag remarked, "He may be going to treat us to an
earthquake!" The proposition met with success, and the whole town
hastened to the _fetes_ which Teresa Cornelys inaugurated at Carlisle
House in Soho Square. In the first place, the good Cornelys asked no
money; oh, no! If she accepted a little it was devoted to the purchase
of charcoal for the poor of London, who were suffering extremely from
the cold that winter. But the summer came, and still the dances
continued at Carlisle House. The Cornelys explained that her aim was to
encourage business, which was undergoing a crisis. (Business is always
undergoing a crisis!) Nevertheless, the bishops complained loudly of the
liberty which reigned at Madame Cornelys's house; according to them
Carlisle House was a very bad place indeed.
It was then decided to create a masked ball, access to which should be
refused to persons of questionable reputation, and to which only women
of the fashionable world should be admitted. The Pantheon threw open its
doors on the 27th of January, 1772. On the very first evening Miss
Abington, who occupied a place in the foremost rank of the excluded,
presented herself smilingly at the door, fluttering her fan with a
victorious air.
"Mademoiselle," faltered the master of ceremonies respectfully, "it is
with the profoundest regret that I am forced to refuse you admittance
to this house. The rule is stringent and--"
Miss Abington turned and gave a signal, whereupon forty gentlemen in
good order appeared, with drawn swords. The poor master of ceremonies
yielded to number, and Miss Abington made her triumphal _entree_ to the
ballroom. Through the breach thus opened passed the whole army of vice,
from the princes' favorites to the rovers of Drury Lane.
The evening was well advanced ere Mrs. Marsham and her niece entered the
great rotunda, both in domino and masked. Upon coming out of the fresh,
sleepy streets through which their coach had jolted them they were dazed
and overwhelmed at finding themselves in the midst of such a furnace and
din. The confusion amounted almost to delirium. The atmosphere was hot,
heavy, and charged with pungent perfumes. The heat was so excessive that
the candles melted and ran down upon such maskers as were not upon the
lookout. Fifteen hundred persons, some intoxicated, others excited by
the stir, the fun, and the noise, talked, laughed, screamed, and
fluttered about; while their feet raised a dust which rose in a cloud
and spread like a fog, enveloping the entire scene. Such was the turmoil
of the crowd that the strident scraping of the violins and the shrill
blasts of the horns were only occasionally heard.
"This is Bedlam let loose!" remarked Esther.
"It is hell!" responded Mrs. Marsham, who trembled with emotion and
already regretted having come to such a place.
Mr. O'Flannigan, who was stifling beneath his ass's head, scarcely
seeing anything and hearing nothing, kept turning from one to the other
of his companions, but he had not counted upon his prominent snout,
which continually struck them in the face unless they dodged quickly.
Amidst the rout they soon began to distinguish certain details, certain
characteristic figures. A sultana, half-naked beneath her diaphanous
draperies, was borne in a velvet palanquin upon a cardboard elephant,
the legs of which were formed by four stout men, conducted by a
magnificent Mussulman with a long beard and a golden caftan, and with an
enormous ruby in his turban. Two little negroes, one bearing a casket of
perfumes, the other waving a fan of plumes, slipped into the hands of
the gentlemen mysterious bits of paper carefully folded. Upon each of
these was found the address of the merchant in Bond Street who sold East
Indian stuffs at the lowest cash prices, and for whom the masquerades
served as an advertisement. The _cortege_ closed with a group of
odalisques, in the midst of whom a grinning eunuch carried a banner upon
which was inscribed, "Slaves for sale." These odalisques were
perpetually assailed by a band of man-monkeys, who left nothing to be
desired in the way of audacity and effrontery. Next a Friesland
nurse-girl, her head covered with metallic ornaments, gravely carried a
little dog in her arms swaddled like an infant. Then came a personage
half-miller, half-chimney-sweep, one side being white with flour, the
other black with soot. A rigorously straight line divided his forehead,
followed the line of his nose, crossed his mouth and chin, and
apportioned his body into two equal parts. Among the promenaders were to
be seen a dark-lantern, an artichoke, the shaft of a pillar, an
egg-shell, a gigantic spider, and a corpse swathed in his winding-sheet,
carrying his coffin under his arm, which he showed to the ladies with a
gesture of jovial invitation that was received with roars of laughter.
Adam and Eve in flesh-colored tights with a cincture of leaves in
painted paper carried between them a little tree, about the trunk of
which was entwined a remarkable imitation of the serpent. As she passed
along Eve gathered crystallized fruits from the tree and offered them to
the men with a sweetly innocent smile.
Caricatures of living personages were also seen, and easily recognized
and understood. A mariner's compass which bore a vague resemblance to
George III. held its needle turned towards the north, that is, towards
Lord North, who advanced in the garb of Boreas, having a hideous
cannibal upon his arm,--the symbol of the alliance between the Prime
Minister and the Indians. Another group, formed by a Spaniard, a French
coxcomb dressed in the latest Versailles fashion, and a Virginian
planter (the three enemies united against England at this epoch), fled
before Dame Britannia, who lashed them soundly to the immense delight of
the patriots in the hall. A woman impersonating Intrigue whispered
mysteriously, distributed bags of money and pension certificates, and
wore the national coat-of-arms, on which the horse of Hanover was
represented as kicking the British lion, while she stamped with rage
upon a ragged piece of paper upon which was written in large letters,
"Bill of Rights." Near her the Pope, with mitre on his head, turned
somersaults and juggled with Saint Peter's keys.
"We had better go above in order to have a bird's-eye view," said Esther
to her aunt.
So they dragged poor O'Flannigan up to the top of the staircase,
stumbling as he went.
From the upper floor, leaning upon the velvet railing, they viewed the
spectacle for some time. The great rotunda seemed like the crater of an
active volcano, while the vapor that ascended scorched their cheeks. At
this moment a string of men and women, uttering insane cries, whirled
round and round the hall with ever-increasing velocity. Woe to him who
met them in their mad career! Woe to the one who fell, for he would be
trampled under foot! Carried away by the intoxication of their folly,
they regarded neither decorum nor obstacles, and in their wild sport
lost the very sentiment of their existence as they whirled like gnats
dancing themselves to death in the sunlight.
The two curious women turned away. Close about them were different
scenes, other phases of pleasure. In adjoining halls, which represented,
according to the fancy of the time, the interiors of Chinese and
Japanese houses, persons seated at tables ate and drank. There were
hungry women among them who greedily devoured pork-pies with prunes;
others who nibbled cakes and sipped whipped cream. Champagne and Rhine
wine flowed in torrents. From obscure corners came the sound of
whispered words, stifled laughter, and the smack of kisses. Elsewhere
the merry-makers made greater exertions, and the supper was changed into
an orgy. Mounted upon a table a young girl of sixteen danced with a
man's cocked hat slipping down over her eyes. Another with dishevelled
hair had thrown herself upon a man's knee, tossed her naked arm about a
second, and was smiling at a third with a glance languid, half
unconscious with wine. Still another, stretched at full length upon a
sofa, slept as tranquilly as if she had been in bed.
"Come away, quick!" ejaculated Mrs. Marsham, uttering mental anathemas
upon her curiosity.
At this moment, in an alcove between two pillars, Esther perceived two
persons,--a man and a woman, partially concealed by the draperies. The
remarkable thing about it was that the latter wore a domino exactly
similar to her own,--brown with blue ribbons. The man, leaning towards
her, spoke in low tones, seeming to beseech, to supplicate her; while
she, with a wave of her fan and a shake of the head, said "No" with a
coquettish gesture,--that sort of a "no" which is the preface to and
synonym of "yes." Undoubtedly it was one of those momentary love affairs
which are born and expire by the myriad upon such nights. However, the
cavalier appeared to be more serious than the men about him. The way in
which he pressed one of the little hands which had been entrusted to his
clasp, and sought to plunge his gaze through the openings in the mask to
find the eyes of the unknown, was at once anxious, impassioned, and
sorrowful. For one moment he turned his head, but in that moment Esther
recognized Francis Monday!
The impression that she experienced was one of more unexpected violence
than she would ever have been able to imagine or foresee. Every drop of
blood in her veins fled to her heart, and her limbs trembled. Being
dragged away by her aunt, she took several steps without knowing whither
she was going. That one moment sufficed to reveal to her the fact that
she loved, and to teach her at one and the same blow that he did not
love her. She had permitted herself to believe his tender words, his sad
glances, and the recital of his early hardships; it had seemed so sweet
to console the lonely orphan. It was for him, without her daring to
frankly confess it even to herself, that she would willingly sacrifice
her dreams of fortune, grandeur, and pleasure! And Frank was a
libertine, after all, like the rest of them; he had never even thought
of her! At the thought her irritation against herself knew no bounds.
The spirit of audacity and adventure, which had often tormented her,
rose imperiously and urged her on, as the spur incites the high-bred
horse.
"I have had a narrow escape," thought Esther; "a hut, a garret with
_him_, the joy of freezing to death, of starving for bread! That is what
I have been nigh to plighting my troth to,--I, a daughter of
Shakespeare,--I, who was born for a brilliant career, for great _roles_
and lofty emotions!--The die is cast: I shall be Lady Mowbray!"
The two women with their ass-headed cavalier had returned to the foot of
the stairs. All at once a woman flung herself upon O'Flannigan, uttering
so shrill a cry that even amidst the deafening uproar more than thirty
persons turned and paused to witness the scene which was about to take
place.
"Wretch!" screamed the woman, "is it thus that you desert me, and our
poor children crying for bread?"
"I!" faltered O'Flannigan, paralyzed with surprise, and well-nigh
strangled by the stranger, who had seized him by his ruffled
shirt-front.
"Yes, you! While you are promenading here with hussies, whom I should
blush to touch with the tip of my finger, you leave your lawful wife to
the care of the parish!"
"Madam, there is some mistake! Permit me to say to you, with all the
respect due to your misfortune, that you hold me too tight! You will
tear my ruffles, which belong to the property-room of Drury Lane. I
repeat, there is some mistake!"
And taking off the ass's head, O'Flannigan revealed his honest face
convulsed with perplexity. The spectators crowded anxiously about them.
"No, there is no mistake! You are, indeed, my husband, Pat O'Flannigan,
music teacher and prompter to Drury Lane Theatre."
"Certainly, I am O'Flannigan, music teacher and prompter at Drury Lane,
but as to being your husband, may Heaven confound me if I ever set eyes
on you before!"
"You have never set eyes on me? You have never set eyes on Molly
MacMurragh, to whom you were married by the priest at Bray, in Ireland?
You have never set eyes on the mother of your six children?"
Mrs. Marsham loosened her hold upon the unhappy O'Flannigan's arm.
"Can this be true?" she cried. "Can this woman really be Mrs.
O'Flannigan?"
"My dear madam, I protest! There is no Mrs. O'Flannigan! This woman is
either a fool or a jade; she has been hired by my enemies!"
"A fool! a jade! If there is any jade here it is this bold hussy who has
helped herself to other people's belongings, and seduced a married man
from his duty!"
"Mercy!" gasped Mrs. Marsham in horror.
"I do not know," cried the woman, "what prevents me from tearing off her
mask, and leaving the marks of my nails upon her as the headsman brands
forgers!"
She advanced menacingly, and shook her clinched fist in Mrs. Marsham's
face, who feebly cried, "Help! help!"
A circle had been formed; those who could not see elbowed their
neighbors, or mounted upon chairs, while such exclamations were heard
as--
"Two women! They're going to fight! Bravo! Let 'em go!"
Some one cried out. "I'll wager five to one on the lawful dame!"
To which came the reply, "I'll take you!"
Others made sport of O'Flannigan's piteous face. Mrs. Marsham had let go
of Esther's hand, who found herself in the background, and quite
unnoticed. Presently a voice close behind her pronounced these words
very distinctly,--
"_The moon is risen!_"
She trembled in every nerve; her heart beat violently. Her whole future
life depended upon the step she was about to take. In that supreme
moment the pantomime which she had just surprised above stairs shot with
the rapidity of lightning through her mind; again she saw Francis Monday
pressing the hand of the unknown domino and supplicating her with his
eyes.
"Enough!" thought she.
She closed her eyes as does one who is about to leap into an abyss.
A hand seized hers and drew her away, and without a word she followed
her guide.