A Lunatic's Ball

by Simon Simple

It was at Forrester's in the evening—as usual.

Forrester is a wag.

"Do you mind taking a trip over to the Yarra Bend Asylum," said he, "there is a concert and ball on, and my two youngest daughters are guests, you might bring them back with you, if you will."

"All right," said I, "have you anything in the shape of a pass or ticket that it will be necessary for me to produce?"

"Not at all," he replied with a wink," "just tell them who you are."

I might incidentally remark that I had always wished to go to a lunatic's ball, and now that the opportunity presented itself, I was only too willing to avail myself of it. Suffice it to say that I started out and, after a walk across country of about a mile, reached a medieval kind of punt, by means of which I was ferried across to the asylum grounds. Upon landing I accosted a Minos-like individual who directed me to the hall where the festivities were being carried on; and eventually arrived.

The concert was over, and as I entered I caught the strains of a well-known waltz, and after depositing my hat and cane, found myself amongst a crowd of ladies and gentlemen, intent upon enjoying all the pleasures afforded by a social reunion where dancing occupies the place of the piece de resistance at a well served dinner.

I noticed that some fifteen or twenty of the women present (the majority of them over fifty years of age) were dressed in a sort of uniform, but all the others were habited in costumes such as one would expect to see at an ordinary evening dance.

Well, thought I, this may be a lunatics' ball, but it strikes me that the lunatics are vastly in the minority, and that the visitors have taken possession of the floor. Just then I caught the eye of one of Forrester's daughters, and making my way to her side, said "I don't quite understand the etiquette of an affair like this, is it allowable to ask anybody to dance with you?" "Oh, yes!" she replied, as she walked off with a particularly fine-looking young fellow, to take her place in a quadrille that was just forming, "oh thanks!" said I, and I approached a very pretty little blonde, upon whom I had had my eye for some time, and asked her to dance. She gracefully accepted my invitation, and we took our places. In the interval I opened up a conversation with her, commiserating the unfortunate inmates of the asylum, to which she intelligently and sympathetically responded; our talk finally drifted into matters theatrical, and I asked her if she had seen Toole. Imagine my horror when she replied "Well the fact is, we are not allowed out at night, and I have not been to the theatre for over five years."

I did not enjoy the rest of the dance, and I must say that my usual easy flow of conversation was checked, for I was in constant fear that I might at any time, inadvertently stumble upon her mania and create a scene.

The next party that I danced with I secured an introduction to, and I was explaining to her my previous mistake when she suddenly burst into a peal of silvery laughter, and said, "Why that must be my room-mate Miss K—," Lord forgive me I've struck another one, thought I, and the cold perspiration bedewed my manly brow. Still I got through the dance, and was leaning against the wall endeavouring to recover myself, when a bright looking young party of the female persuasion, with a bit of red ribbon on her arm approached me and said, "You are looking rather sad won't you dance with me?" I looked hopelessly about for a chance to escape, there was none, so I smiled a sickly sort of smile, and assented, we had hardly gone three paces, before this young lady commenced to talk, about woman's rights. I've struck a bad one this time thought I, I shall have to humor her, and I religiously agreed to every theory she propounded, even to the extent of pledging myself to stand for parliament at the next election as a "Woman's Rights" candidate; We finally parted, and pluming myself upon my address, I sought Mr. F.'s daughter again, and said, "Who is that rather nice looking maniac over there in the blue dress with the red ribbon on her arm?" "That!" she replied. "Why, that is one of the new nurses, she took you for an inmate, and was just telling me that your's was a hopeless case." I subsided, and having finally concluded that I couldn't tell a lunatic from a sane person unless they were labelled, I left the hall, and went across the way to call upon one of the attendants, whose cottage was but a few steps distant. I poured my troubles into her supposedly sympathetic ear, but received no further consolation than a hearty laugh—and a glass of delightfully cool iced beer. After a pleasant chat, I made my adieus, and started after my charges, whom I had pledged myself to escort safely home. Naturally they were engaged for one more dance, and told me to walk slowly on and they would overtake me before I reached the punt.

I obediently gathered up my hat and cane and started; as I found out afterwards, I took the road to the left instead of to the right, as I should have done, and after walking contemplatively along, smoking my cigarette, for some distance, I became suddenly aware of the fact that I had mistaken my way. As the surroundings were thoroughly unfamiliar, I stopped two ladies (evidently visitors) who were approaching me, and asked to be directed; they eyed me for a moment, and then one of them replied, "Go right ahead, and you will meet a warder a little further on." I followed the directions, and finally came across a gentleman in blue, to whom I said "Will you kindly direct me to the punt? I want to get to town."

"I don't doubt it," he replied, "Who are you? and what do you do?"

"Well," said I, "I write verses for the comic papers sometimes, and—"

"All right" said he, interrupting me, "Go right straight ahead, there's some friends of yours below, waiting for you."

I walked on, and presently found myself amongst a crowd of men, who were converging towards a gateway. On my arrival there I was confronted by another blue-coated official with a lantern in his hand.

"Is this the way to the punt?" I said.

"Go inside and don't stand palavering," said he.

"But I want to get to town," I replied.

"If you don't go in quietly, I shall have to go with you, and its the straight jacket you'll have a taste of then," said he.

This is pleasant I thought and in I went, but took up my position immediately behind him.

"I beg your pardon," said I, after a few minutes, "but will you tell me where I am?"

"Where are you?" he replied. "Why in the refractory ward of course, and you'll be in a padded cell shortly, if you don't behave yourself."

Here was a lovely predicament, the man evidently took me for a patient, and intended to treat me as such, I knew that matters would be explained in the morning, but I didn't look forward to spending the night there, with any frantic degree of delight? however, just as they were about to lock up, and all hope of release seemed gone, I heard a faint cooee in the distance, I answered involuntarily, and as the warder paused wondering who it could be, up came Jo. Forrester's assistant, with a lantern in his hand, and explained matters. It seems that the two young ladies had gone on home, and finding that I had not arrived had told their father of my having started before them, he appreciating the fact that I might be detained had organised a search party of one, to go out and rescue me, and Jo his emissary, knowing me to be a newspaper man, exhibited his acumen by immediately making for the refractory ward.

Forrester condoled with me on my arrival at his tavern, but I could see by the smile on his face that he enjoyed the joke.

I have not been to a lunatic's ball since, my morbid curiosity is satisfied, and if I do go again it will be with a keeper.

Queenscliff Sentinel, Saturday 28 June 1890, page 2