Passage Illustrated: An Embarrassing Anecdote

Without waiting for a reply, Sir George was turning away to give the necessary instructions, when the door of the drawing-room was flung open, and the servant announced, in his loudest voice, “Miss Macan.” Never shall I forget the poor general’s look of horror as the words reached him; for as yet, he was too far to catch even a glimpse of its fair owner. As for me, I was already so much interested in seeing what she was like, that I made my way through the crowd towards the door. It is no common occurrence that can distract the various occupations of a crowded ball-room, where, amidst the crash of music and the din of conversation, goes on the soft, low voice of insinuating flattery, or the light flirtation of a first acquaintance; every clique, every coterie, every little group of three or four has its own separate and private interests, forming a little world of its own, and caring for and heeding nothing that goes on around; and even when some striking character or illustrious personage makes his entrée, the attention he attracts is so momentary, that the buzz of conversation is scarcely, if at all, interrupted, and the business of pleasure continues to flow on. Not so now, however. No sooner had the servant pronounced the magical name of Miss Macan, than all seemed to stand still. The spell thus exercised over the luckless general seemed to have extended to his company; for it was with difficulty that any one could continue his train of conversation, while every eye was directed towards the door. About two steps in advance of the servant, who still stood door in hand, was a tall, elderly lady, dressed in an antique brocade silk, with enormous flowers gaudily embroidered upon it. Her hair was powdered and turned back in the fashion of fifty years before; while her high-pointed and heeled shoes completed a costume that had not been seen for nearly a century. Her short, skinny arms were bare and partly covered by a falling flower of old point lace, while on her hands she wore black silk mittens; a pair of green spectacles scarcely dimmed the lustre of a most piercing pair of eyes, to whose effect a very palpable touch of rouge on the cheeks certainly added brilliancy. There stood this most singular apparition, holding before her a fan about the size of a modern tea-tray; while at each repetition of her name by the servant, she curtesied deeply, bestowing the while upon the gay crowd before her a very curious look of maidenly modesty at her solitary and unprotected position.

As no one had ever heard of the fair Judith, save one or two of Sir George’s most intimate friends, the greater part of the company were disposed to regard Miss Macan as some one who had mistaken the character of the invitation, and had come in a fancy dress. But this delusion was but momentary, as Sir George, armed with the courage of despair, forced his way through the crowd, and taking her hand affectionately, bid her welcome to Dublin. The fair Judy, at this, threw her arms about his neck, and saluted him with a hearty smack that was heard all over the room. [Chapter XIX, "The Ball," 104]

Commentary: Frank Weber Impersonates an Elderly Female Relation from the Country

On the evening of Sir George Dashwood's ball, O'Malley and his new-found military friends are quite sure that they have prevented Frank Weber from crashing the party and making romantic overtures to the daughter, Lucy Dashwood. He has wagered at he will "kiss Miss Dashwood, and am not kicked down stairs for my pains" (99). The resourceful Weber has now outwitted O'Malley and Power by adopting as a disguise the persona of Miss Judy Macan, Sir George Dashwood's elderly sister-in-law whom he has not seen in years. Receiving a note from that "confounded woman" (103) Sir George learns that she has suddenly arrived in town to seek medical treatment "for the ould complaint" (103). The correspondent pretends to know nothing of the ball, and merely announces that she will be coming to tea, having travelled some two hundred miles in company with Father Magrath.

As in the text, in the illustration of Miss Macan's sudden arrival has caused Sir George considerable consternation. Behind the flabbergasted general is his daughter, while the military guests look on curiously. At the very centre of the composition is Miss Macan's (Frank Weber's) gigantic fan "about the size of a modern tea-tray (104), clearly for Phiz a comic theatrical prop. Naturally the "aunt" (Frank in disguise) asks to "embrace my little darling" (104), Lucy (and thereby, of course, win his bet): "there she is, I'm sure; kiss me, my honey." Only after singing a comic song entitled "The Widow Malone" and departing does Weber reveal his true identity in a note he has left for Sir George, supposedly with Miss Macan's visiting card.

Necessary Background

• Charles Lever's Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon (1840-41)

Bibliography

Lever, Charles. Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon. Illustrated by Phiz [Hablot Knight Browne]. Published serially in The Dublin University Magazine from Vol. XV (March 1840) through XVIII (December 1841). Dublin: William Curry, March 1840 through December 1841, 2 vols. London: Samuel Holdsworth, 1840; rpt., Chapman and Hall, 1873.

Lever, Charles. Charles O'Malley, The Irish Dragoon. Illustrated by Phiz [Hablot Knight Browne]. Novels and Romances of Charles Lever. Vol. I and II. In two volumes. Project Gutenberg. Last Updated: 2 September 2016.

Steig, Michael. Chapter Two: "The Beginnings of 'Phiz': Pickwick, Nickleby, and the Emergence from Caricature." Dickens and Phiz. Bloomington: Indiana U. P., 1978. Pp. 24-50.

Stevenson, Lionel. Chapter V, "Renegade from Physic, 1839-1841." Dr. Quicksilver: The Life of Charles Lever. London: Chapman and Hall, 1939. Pp. 73-93.

---

Victorian
Web

Illustra-
tion

Phiz

Charles
O'Malley

Next

Created 6 March 2023