For my own part I love to look upon dancing. The country-dance expresses the happiness of youth and the gladness of life. The hey and jig are rustic joys which cannot keep still, but must needs jump about to show their pleasure. But the minuet expresses the refinement, the courtesies, the politeness of life. It is artificial, but the politeness of Fashion in the Civilized world must be acknowledged to be an improvement on mere Nature, which is too often barbarous in its expression and coa.r.s.e in its treatment. I know not any of our music which could be played to such a dance of savages as the Guinea Traders report from the West Coast and the Bight of Benin.
The company flowed in fast. All, except a few who kept about the doors and did not venture in the crowd, were in masquerade dress, and even those who were not carried dominoes in their hands. One would have thought the whole world had sent representatives to the ball. There were pig-tailed Chinese; Dervishes in turbans; American Indians with tomahawks; Arabs in long silken robes; negroes and negresses; proud Castilians; Scots in plaid; Monks and Romish Priests; Nuns and Sisters; milkmaids in dowla.s.s; ploughboys in smocks; lawyers; soldiers and sailors: there were G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses; Venus came clad much like her figure in the books; Diana carried her bow; the Graces endeavoured to appear as they are commonly represented: Apollo came with his lyre; Mars with his shield and spear: Vulcan with his lame leg: Hercules with his club. There were dozens of Cupids: there were dozens of Queens; Cleopatra; Dido; Mary, Queen of Scots: and Queen Elizabeth. There were famous kings as Henry the Fifth; Henry the Eighth: Charles the First; and Charles the Second. There were potentates, as the Pope, the Sultan, the Grand Cham, Prester John, and the Emperor of China: there were famous women, mostly kings" favourites, as the Fair-Haired Editha: Fair Rosamund: Jane Sh.o.r.e, the most beautiful of London maidens: and merry Nell Gwynne, once an Orange Girl: there were half a dozen ladies representing Joan of Arc in armour: there was a bear-ward leading a man dressed as a bear who made as if he would hug the women (at which they screamed in pretended affright) and danced to the music of a crowd: there were gipsies and fortune-tellers: there were two girls--n.o.body knew who they were--one of whom danced on a tight-rope, while the other turned somersaults. There were Harlequin, Columbine, Pantaloon and clown, as if straight from Drury Lane: there was the showman who put his show in a corner and loudly proclaimed the wonders that were within: there was the Cheap Jack in another corner, who pretended to sell everything: there was the itinerant Quack who bawled his nostrums for prolonging life and restoring youth and arresting beauty: there was the orange girl, of Drury Lane, impudent and ready with an answer and a joke to anything: there were dancing-girls who ran in and out, cleared a s.p.a.ce; danced: then ran to another place and danced again. I learned, afterwards, that the dancers and tumblers, with many of the masks, were actors, actresses, and dancing-girls, hired from the Theatre by Madame herself, in order to ensure vivacity and activity and movement in the evening. If these things were neglected or left to the masquers themselves, the a.s.sembly would fall quite flat, very few persons having the least power to play any part or keep up any character. Punchinello, for instance, trod the floor with a face like a physician for solemnity: the clown could not dance or laugh or make other people laugh: and so with the women: they thought their part was played as soon as they were dressed.
Meantime, the music played on without stopping. After the minuets, we proceeded to the country dance. But you must not think that at the Masquerade we conducted our dancing with the same order and form as an ordinary a.s.sembly. I looked down upon a scene which was quite unlike the ordinary a.s.sembly, and yet was the most beautiful, the most animated, the most entrancing that I had ever witnessed. The room was like a flower-bed in July filled with flowers of every colour. It was enough, at first, to look at the whole company, as one might look upon a garden filled with flowers. Presently I began to detach couples or small groups. First, I observed the fair domino who lured on the amorous youth--dressed, perhaps, as a monk--by running away and yet looking back--a Parthian Amazon of Love. She must be young, he thought, with such a sprightly air and so easy a step: she must be beautiful, with such a figure, to match her face: she must be rich, with such a habit--with those gold chains and bracelets and pearls. Presently the young fellow caught his G.o.ddess: he spoke to her and he led her to a seat among the plants where they could sit a little retired and apart.
But from the gallery I could see them. He took her hand: he pressed her, saying I know not what: presently she took off her domino: and disclosed loveliness: the youth fell into raptures: she held him off: she put on her domino again: she rose: he begged for a little more discourse--it was a pretty pantomime--she refused: she went back to the general company: they remained together all the night: when they went away in the morning he led her out whispering, and one hopes that this was the beginning of a happy match. The removal of the domino to let the gentleman see the masked face was, I observed, very common, yet it was not always that the little comedy ended, as they say, happily. Sometimes the lady, after showing her face, would run away and exchange a kerchief, or a mantle, with a friend so as to mystify and bewilder her pursuer who could not tell what had become of his lovely partner.
Such were the little comedies performed before the eyes of the spectators from the music gallery. As for the rest, the mountebanks pranced, and the dancing-girls and the tumbling-girls capered, and they all laughed and sang and gave themselves wholly to the mirth and merriment of the moment.
Some of the men I observed were drunk when they arrived: others pretended to be drunk in order that they might roll about and catch hold of the girls. It has always been to me a marvel that women do not mark their displeasure, at the intrusion upon their pleasures, of men who are drunk. They mar all the enjoyment of society whether at the theatre, or at such a.s.semblies as this, or in the drawing-room. Ladies of fashion have it in their power to put an end to the habit at a stroke of the pen, so to speak: namely, by forbidding the presence at their a.s.semblies of gentlemen in liquor: they should be refused admission however great their position, even if their breast is ablaze with stars.
There were many stars present, and with them ladies whose head-dresses were covered with diamonds. It was rumoured that Madame retained in her service for these occasions, a body of stout fellows on the watch for any attempt upon the jewels. It was also rumoured that there were R--l P--s present at the Masquerade: the young D-- of Y--k, for instance, it was said positively, was among the company, but so disguised that none could recognise him. Some of the ladies wore no dominoes; but these persons, I observed, did not leave their partners and took no share in the merriment. Indeed, they seemed, for the most part, not to laugh at the fun: I suppose they found it somewhat low and vulgar. In our gallery they were well known. "That is the d.u.c.h.ess of Q-- with the rubies: the lady with the diamond spray in her hair is Lady H--: the lady with the strings of pearls round her neck and arms is the Lady Florence D--," and so forth--with scandalous stories and gossip which belonged, I thought, more to the footmen in the hall than to the music gallery. We had no such talk at the Dog and Duck. Perhaps, however, the reason for our reticence in that favourite retreat and rendezvous of the aristocracy was that there were no women at the Dog and Duck whose lives were not scandalous. The stories, therefore, would become monotonous.
At one, a procession was formed for supper. There was no order or rank observed because there were plenty of persons who masqueraded as n.o.blemen, and it would take too long to examine into their claims. The small band of stringed instruments, of which I have spoken, headed the procession, played the company into the supper-room, and played while they were taking supper. There was not room for more than half in the supper-room: the rest waited their turn.
"It is a rest for us," said the First violin, "we shall get some supper downstairs. Eat and drink plenty, for what we have done already is a flea-bite compared with what we have to do."
It was, indeed. They came back, their cheeks flushed, their eyes bright with wine. Some of them too tipsy to stand, rolled upon the rout seats, and so fell fast asleep.
I observed that the great ladies and the gentlemen with them did not return after supper: their absence removed some restraint: and the gentlemen who had arrived without a masquerade dress did not come back after supper. The company was thinner, but it was much louder: there was no longer any pretence of keeping up a character: the Quack left off bawling his wares: the showman deserted his show: the fortune-tellers left their tents: the Hermit left his cell: the dancing and tumbling girls joined in the general throng: there were many sets formed but little regular dancing: all were broken up by rushes of young men more than half drunk: they caught the girls and kissed them--nothing loth, though they shrieked: it was a proof that the gentlewomen had all gone, that no one resented this rudeness--either a partner or the girl herself: the scene became an orgy: all together were romping, touzling, laughing, shrieking, and quarrelling.
Still the music kept up: still we played with unflinching arm and all the spirit which can be put into them, the most stirring dance tunes. At last they left off trying to dance: some of the women lay back on the rout seats partly with liquor overcome and partly with fatigue: men were sprawling unable to get up: bottles of wine were brought up from the supper-room and handed round. The men grew every minute noisier: the women shrieked louder and more shrilly--perhaps with cause. And every minute some slipped away and the crowd grew thinner, till there were left little more than a heap of drunken men and weary women.
At last word came up that it was five o"clock, the time for closing.
The conductor laid down his violin: the night"s work was over: we would go.
The people below clamoured for more music, but in vain. Then they, too, began to stream out noisily.
As I pa.s.sed the supper-room I saw that half a dozen young fellows had got in and were noisily clamouring for champagne. The waiters who were clearing the supper took no notice. Then one of them with a bludgeon set to work and began to smash plates, gla.s.ses, dishes, bottles, windows, in a kind of a frenzy of madness or mischief. Half a dozen stout fellows rushed at him: carried him out of the supper-room and so into the Square outside. It was a fitting end for the Masquerade.
While I was looking on, I was touched on the arm by a mask. I knew her by her white satin dress for Madame.
I had seen her from time to time flitting about the room, sometimes with a partner, sometimes alone. She was conversing one moment with a gentleman whose star betokened his rank, and the next with one of her paid actors or actresses, directing the sports. I had seen her dancing two minuets in succession each with a grace and dignity which no other woman in the room could equal.
"A noisy end, Will, is it not? We always finish this way. The young fellow who smashed the gla.s.s is Lord St. Osyth. To-morrow morning he will have to pay the bill. "Tis a good-natured fool. See: they are carrying out the last of the drunken hogs. Faugh! How drunk they are!"
"I have watched you all the evening, Madame. Believe me, there were none of the ladies who approached you in the minuet."
"Naturally, Will. For I have danced it on the stage, where we can at least surpa.s.s the minuet of the a.s.sembly. What do they understand of action and carriage, and how to bear the body and how to use the arms and how to handle the fan? But it was not to talk about my dancing--Will--I said that perhaps I should be able to show you something or to tell you something--that might astonish you. Come with me: but first--I would not have you recognised, put on this domino"--there were a good many lying about--"So--Now follow me and prepare for the greatest surprise of your whole life."
In the hall there were still many waiting for their carriages and chairs. Outside, there was a crowd now closing in upon the carriages, and now beaten back by Madame"s men who were armed with clubs and kept the pickpockets and thieves at bay. And there was a good deal of bawling, cursing, and noise.
Madame led the way into the card-room. Play had apparently been going on all night: the candles on the table were burning low: the players had nearly all gone: the servants were taking the shillings from under the candlesticks: at the long table, two or three were still left: they were not playing: they were settling up their accounts.
A young fellow got up as we came in. "What"s the good of crying, Harry?"
he said, to his companion. "I"ve dropped five hundred. Well--better luck to-morrow."
"Poor lad!" said Madame. "That morrow will never come. "Tis a pretty lad: I am sorry for him. He will end in a Debtors" Prison or he will carry a musket in the ranks."
They were settling, one by one, with the player who had held the Bank for the evening. There were no disputes: they had some system by means of which their loses or gains were represented by counters. The business of the conclusion was the paying or receiving of money as shown by their counters which were accepted as money. For instance, if a person took so many counters he incurred so much liability. But, I do not understand what were the rules. The man who held the Bank was, I heard afterwards, one of those who live by keeping the Bank against all comers. He was an elderly man of fine manners, extremely courtly in his behaviour and his dress. One by one he received the players, of whom there were a dozen or so, and examined their liabilities or their claims. There was left but one of the players, a man whose back was turned to me.
"Sir," he said politely, "I am grieved indeed to keep a gentleman waiting so long. Let me now release you. I hope, Sir, that the balance will prove in your favour. It pleases me, believe me, that a gentleman should leave my table the winner. So, Sir, thank you. I perceive, Sir, that your good fortune has deserted you for this evening. I trust it is but a temporary cloud. After all it is a trifle--a bagatelle--a mere matter of one hundred and fifty-five guineas--one hundred and fifty-five. Your Honour is not, perhaps, good at figures, but, should you choose to verify----"
The other man whose back and shoulders were still the only part of him presented to my view, s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper and looked at it and threw it on the table.
"It is right, Sir?"
"I suppose it is right. The luck was against me, as usual; the luck never is for me."
I knew the voice and started.
Madame whispered in my ear softly. "The greatest surprise of your life."
"One hundred and fifty-five guineas," said the gentleman who kept the Bank. "If you are not able to discharge the liability to-night, Sir, I shall be pleased to wait upon you to-morrow."
"No! No! I can pay my way still--pay my way," He pulled out a long purse filled with guineas.
"Your luck will certainly turn, Sir, before long. Why I have seen instances----"
"d.a.m.n it, Sir, leave me and my affairs alone. My luck never will turn.
Don"t I know my own affairs?"
The voice could be none other than my cousin Matthew"s. I was startled.
My head which had been filled with the noise of the music and the excitement of the revelry became clear at once and attentive and serious. My cousin Matthew. Impossible not to know that voice!
He poured out the guineas on the table and began to count them, dividing them into heaps of ten. Then he counted them over again, very slowly, and, at last, with greatest reluctance pa.s.sed them over to the other player, who in his turn counted them over, taking up the pieces and biting them in order to see if they were good.
"I thank you, Sir," he said, gravely. "I trust that on a future occasion----"
Matthew waved his hand impatiently. The other turned and walked down the room. The candles were mostly out by this time; only two or three were left on the point of expiring: the room was in a kind of twilight.
Matthew turned his head--it _was_ my cousin: he seemed not to see us: he sank into a chair and laid his head in his hands groaning.
No one was left in the room except Madame, Matthew and myself.
Madame stepped forward: the table was between her and my cousin. As for me I kept in the background watching and listening. What might this thing mean? Matthew, the sober, upright, religious London citizen!
Matthew the worthy descendant of the great Puritan preacher! Matthew the denouncer of wicked musicians! Matthew the scourge of frivolity and vice! Matthew, my supplanter! Matthew in a gaming room! Matthew playing all night long and losing a hundred and fifty-five guineas in a single night! What was one to believe next?
Jenny bent over the table: she still kept on her domino.
"Mr. Matthew Halliday," she said.
He lifted his head, stupidly.
"I congratulate you, Mr. Matthew Halliday," she went on. "You have pa.s.sed a most pleasant and profitable evening. A hundred and fifty-five guineas! It is nothing, of course, to a rich merchant like yourself."
"Who are you?" he asked. "What concern is it of yours?"
"I am one who knows you. One who knows you already, and too well."