MATRIMONY.
“Frere, old fellow, have you prepared your wedding garments?” inquired
Bracy, meeting his friend accidentally one fine day, about a week after
the occurrence of the events described in the last chapter.
“Ay, I hear that your machinations have succeeded,” returned Frere
gruffly, “and that De Grandeville is about to marry Lady Lombard. I’ll
tell you what it is, Bracy; it strikes me that in assisting people to
make fools of themselves and each other, you are just wasting your time
and perverting your talents: depend upon it you may very safely leave
folks to perform that operation on their own account, they are not
likely to class that amongst their sins of omission.”
“Make fools of themselves!” repeated Bracy. “My dear Frere, it’s nothing
of the sort, that was an ‘_opus operatum_,’ a deed done for our
friends by beneficent Nature, long before I had the pleasure of their
acquaintance. Moreover, in the present case, I am seeking to diminish,
rather than to increase, the standing amount of folly--man and wife
are one, you know; _ergo_, by uniting Lady Lombard and the mighty De
Grandeville, the ranks of the feeble-minded are one fool _minus_.”
“Well, that certainly is an ingenious way of putting it,” rejoined
Frere, laughing in spite of himself; “and pray how have you contrived to
bring about this delectable affair; for I conclude the match _is_ your
handiwork?”
“Oh! the thing was easy enough to accomplish,” replied Bracy. “I
invented pretty speeches, which I declared to each that the other
had made about them; I exaggerated De Grandeville’s position to Lady
Lombard, and Lady Lombard’s wealth to De Grandeville; in short, I lied
perseveringly and judiciously until I fancied I had got the affair
thoroughly _en train_. But I soon found out there was a hitch somewhere;
it was clearly not on the lady’s side, for she was so far gone as to
believe in De Grandeville to the extent of estimating him at his own
valuation, which I take to be the _ne plus ultra_ of credulity; so I set
steadily to work to investigate _him_, and if possible find out what
was the matter. I tried various schemes, but none of them would act, his
reserve was impenetrable; at last, in despair, I gave him a champagne
dinner at the Polysnobion, taking care to ply him well with wine, and to
walk home with him afterwards. That did the business--he must have been
most transcendently drunk and no mistake, for before we reached his
lodgings, having confessed to me that his grandfather had been a tallow
chandler, he went on to relate that the bar to his union with Lady
Lombard was his inability to discover that she possessed any pedigree.”
“Well, for that matter,” interrupted Frere, “having admitted the tallow
chandler, I don’t see that he need have been so very particular as to
the aristocratic tendencies of Lady Lombard’s ancestry.”
“De Grandeville did not think so,” resumed Bracy; “he argued that no
amount of chandlery could infuse vulgarity into the blood of one of his
illustrious house; external circumstances, he declared, were powerless
to affect the innate nobility of a De Grandeville: whole years of
melting days would fail to drop a spot upon that illustrious name.
But for a man, the founder of whose family came over with the Norman
William, to marry a woman without a pedigree, one who probably never had
so much as a grandfather belonging to her, was impossible: he had a
warm regard for Lady Lombard; he considered that his name and influence,
supported by her wealth, would place him in one of the proudest
positions to which a mortal could aspire; but even for this he could not
sacrifice his leading principle, he could not ally himself to any one
without a pedigree.
“Seeing that he was in earnest, I forbore to laugh at him; and merely
throwing out hints that I had reason to believe he was in error, and
that although Lady Lombard’s father (an amiable soap-boiler, whose
virtues simmered for sixty years in the neighbourhood of Shoreditch)
had been engaged in commerce (he paraphrased the tallow chandler into a
Russian merchant), as well as his grandfather, still the arguments which
applied to the one case would hold good in the other, and at all events
I begged him to take no rash or precipitate step in the matter till I
had applied to a friend of mine (of course invented for the occasion)
who was a genealogist, and used my best endeavours to clear up the
difficulty--for which disinterested offer he, being still more or less
inebriated, blessed me reiteratedly and fervently, and so, having seen
him safely home, we parted. The next morning I visited Lady Lombard,
led her on sweetly and easily to talk of her family, gained some
information, and learned where to obtain more, and in less than two
days had the satisfaction of proving her fiftieth cousin sixteen times
removed to Edward the Third. De Grandeville was introduced to my friend
in the Heralds’ Office----.”
“Whom you declared a minute ago to be invented for the occasion,”
interrupted Frere.
“For which reason he was the more easily personated by Tom Edgehill
of the Fusileers,” resumed the unblushing Bracy. “De Grandeville was
allowed, as a great favour, to peruse the pedigree, believed in it----”
“Or pretended to do so,” suggested Frere.
“To the fullest extent!” continued Bracy, not heeding the interruption,
“and the next thing I heard was that the parties were engaged.”
“So he is actually going to marry a woman without an idea, properly so
called, in her head, and half as old again as he is, for the sake of
her money. Well! that’s an abyss of degradation I’ll never sink to
while there is a crossing to be swept in London,” was Frere’s disgusted
comment.
“_Chacun à son gout_--for my own part I should prefer involuntary
emigration at the expense and for the good of my country, vulgarly
denominated transportation, to being married at all, even were the
opposing party (my hypothetical wife, I mean) the most thorough-bred
angel that ever wore a bustle,” returned Bracy. “By the way,” he
continued, “I saw your little friend, Miss Arundel, the other day; she
and her mother are staying with the ‘Lombardie Character,’ I find, but
of course you know all this better than I do. Really that girl writes
exceedingly good sense for a woman. Now if I were a marrying man, I
don’t know any quarter in which I’d sooner throw the handkerchief.”
“You might pick it up again for your pains, for she wouldn’t have you,
I’m sure,” growled Frere.
“Do you really believe so?” asked Bracy, with an incredulous smile.
“Ahem! now I flatter myself the little Arundel has better taste.”
“Better sense than to do any such thing, you mean,” returned Frere more
crossly than before. “Depend upon it, whenever Rose Arundel marries, she
will choose a man who can respect and love her, and not a--well, I don’t
mean to insult you, my good fellow, but truth will out--a self-conceited
young puppy, whose head has been turned by foolish people, by whom his
cleverness has been overrated and his vanity fostered.”
Bracy drew himself up, and for a minute pretended to look very
fierce--then bursting into a hearty laugh, he patted his companion on
the back affectionately, exclaiming, “Poor old Frere! did I put him in
a rage? never mind, old boy, I only wanted to know whether there was any
truth in the report that you were engaged to Miss Arundel--and now let
me congratulate you. You have no doubt good cause for thinking the young
lady would have shown her wisdom by selecting a sensible man such as you
are, rather than a _vaurien_ like myself, even if I were a marrying man
and had placed such a temptation before her.”
Frere looked at him for a moment in utter astonishment, then muttered,
“A vaurien, indeed! I always prophesied that foot-boy of yours would
die with a rope round his neck, but I begin to think the complaint which
will necessitate such an operation runs in the family, and that servant
and master are alike affected by it.”
“And what may be the name of this alarming epidemic which you consider
likely to terminate so fatally?” asked Bracy.
“A most unmitigated and virulent form of chronic impudence,” returned
Frere, laughing; then shaking hands most cordially, these two oddly
assorted friends parted.
After having left Bracy, Frere bent his steps towards the dwelling of
Lady Lombard, with whom Mrs. Arundel and Rose were spending a few
days for the avowed purpose of assisting to prepare her wedding
paraphernalia, though (as the most skilful dressmaker and the most
expensive tradesmen in London were at work in the good cause) their
duties were merely nominal. Mrs. Arundel having explained to her hostess
the nature of the engagement between Frere and her daughter, that
excellent bear was allowed to run tame about the house. Lady Lombard,
who was at first impressed by a vague sense of his awful amount of
learning, and decidedly alarmed at his snapping and growling, had become
reconciled to his presence on perceiving that Rose could tame him by a
word or a smile, and committing him to her care and management, troubled
herself no further about him.
“Rose, who do you think has gone to Venice?” inquired Frere, after
having disburdened his pockets of a little library of heavy books, two
cold, uncomfortable fossils, and the very hard handle of a Roman sword,
all highly prized and newly acquired treasures, which he had brought
that Rose might appreciate them and sympathise with him in his delight
at having obtained them.
“To Venice,” returned Rose--“oh! who? do tell me.”
“Why, lots of people, it seems,” replied Frere. “I called upon my uncle,
Lord Ashford, this morning, and found him in what is vulgarly termed a
regular stew. Bellefield it seems had a horse which everybody fancied
was to win the Derby, but what everybody fancied did not come to pass,
for the said horse was beaten, consequently his owner has lost no end of
money, for which same I for one do not pity him: I have no sympathy with
your ruined gamester--and ruined he is, by the way, horse, foot, and
artillery, as the military De Grandeville would say. Well, poor
uncle Ashford showed me a note he had just received from his dutiful
first-born, telling him that he had not a farthing of ready money in the
world, except £50 to pay for his journey; that he was quite unable to
meet his engagements, and that before the settling day for the Derby he
must put the British Channel between him and those to whom he owed sums
so large that he neither desired nor expected his father to pay them;
that he would feel obliged if his lordship would increase his yearly
allowance, and that he wished letters of credit to be forwarded to him
at Venice, to which place he proposed immediately to follow General
Grant and his daughter, who it appears left England only three weeks
ago; that it was his intention to marry the young lady forthwith, and
live abroad upon her fortune, until something to his advantage should
turn up; and he adds in a postscript, that if his father should attempt
to prevent his marriage by informing General Grant of what he is pleased
to call his misfortunes, that minute he will blow his brains out. Well,
poor uncle, who is a high-minded, honourable man, though he is rather
proud and cold in his manner, could not bear the idea of his son
marrying Annie Grant without informing the General of his loss of
fortune, and at length he resolved to meet the difficulty by selling
the H----shire estate, and by that means increasing Lord Bellefield’s
allowance till it would amount to £3000 a year, in which case General
Grant might be informed of the truth without the match being broken off,
or Bellefield driven to desperation. Whereupon I observed innocently
enough that the success of the scheme would in great measure depend on
the tact of the person sent out to manage the negotiation: Lord Ashford
agreed in this most cordially, and then saying how grateful he should
feel to any one who would assist him in this strait, looked hard at
me----”
“And you instantly undertook the commission; I know it as well as if I
had been present and had heard all that passed,” interposed Rose with a
smile, in which, though affection predominated, a slight shade of regret
might have been traced.
“Why, you see, Rose, as I am one of the family, there seemed a kind of
obligation upon me to do something to help them; and poor uncle Ashford
did look so pitiful; and really if I had not undertaken it, I don’t know
who could have been found to do so, for Bellefield quarrelled with
their family solicitor because he refused to allow him to make ducks and
drakes of some of the entailed property three years ago; and I shall not
be gone long. Besides, I did not quite forget you, Rosey, for, do you
comprehend, I shall be able to see Lewis without his fancying that I
have been sent out expressly to look after him, and perhaps I may be
able to persuade him to come home and live in England like a reasonable
being and a Christian; at all events, I shall find out how he is going
on there; and I’ve another thing to talk to Lewis about--I don’t mean to
remain for ever without a wife, Miss Rose--you need not turn your head
away--that’s sheer silliness--you know we _are_ to be married some day,
we expect matrimony will increase our happiness, and we have sounder
grounds for our expectations than most of the fools who yoke themselves
together for life; those who do so, for instance, in order to obtain
rank or riches--our next-door neighbours to wit,” and he pointed with
his thumb in the direction of the drawing-room, wherein were seated the
mighty De Grandeville and his lady-love. “As, therefore, my reasoning is
good, sound reasoning, and matrimony proved to be a desirable thing, why
the sooner we get the ceremony over the better; so, as I said before,
don’t turn away your head like a little goose, seeing that you’re
nothing of the kind!”
“Poor Lewis,” murmured Rose; “he will scarcely rejoice to see you when
he learns that the object of your mission is to hasten the marriage of
Annie Grant with Lord Bellefield. Oh, Richard,” she continued eagerly,
clasping her hands, “it will make him hate you--do not go!”
“Well, now, I never thought of that,” muttered Frere, thoroughly
perplexed. “Why will people go and fall in love with one another that
didn’t ought to?” He paused, rubbed his hair back from his forehead till
it stood on end like the crest of a cockatoo, played with Rose’s
workbox till he overturned it, and in his abstraction committed so many
gaucheries that his companion was on the point of calling him to order
when he suddenly returned to his senses, and taking Rose’s hand in his,
began, “Now listen to me, my child: in the first place, as this matter
nearly concerns Lewis, and therefore you, I will do nothing in it of
which you do not approve; premising this, I will give you my own ideas
on the subject. Touching Lewis’s interest in the affair, the question
seems to hinge upon this point: does Annie Grant care for him or not?
If she does not, it can’t signify to him who she marries; and as in that
case she is probably attached to her cousin (women don’t _always_ love
wisely, you know), I should feel able to carry out uncle Ashford’s
wishes with a clear conscience, and trust to Lewis’s good sense and kind
heart not to incur his displeasure by so doing. If, on the other hand,
Annie by any chance loves him, and has been bullied or persuaded into
this engagement, I for one will have nothing to do with promoting the
match, but, on the contrary, will exert myself to the utmost to prevent
it; and now what say you?”
“That by doing as you propose you will act rightly, kindly, and
judiciously, and that come what may of it, your interference must be
for good,” returned Rose, gazing with looks of proud affection upon the
simple-hearted, high-principled “_honest_ man” (indeed “the noblest
work of God”) who sat beside her. “But,” she continued after a moment’s
thought, “there is one difficulty which I scarcely see how you will get
over--how are you to find out whom Annie Grant really loves?”
“Ask her myself,” was the straightforward reply. Rose looked at him to
see if he were joking, but his face was earnest and resolved.
“Oh, Richard, you will never be able to do that,” she remonstrated;
“remember how such a question must distress her.”
“Which do you think will distress her most--to be asked abruptly to give
her confidence to a person who is anxious to befriend her, or to spend
her life with one man, when all the time she loves another?” inquired
Frere almost sternly. Then laying his hand on Rose’s head and stroking
her glossy hair, he continued, “No! no! Rosey, away with all such
sophistries; they are the devil’s emissaries to render people first
miserable, and then reckless and wicked. Marriages, properly so termed,
may be made in Heaven, but depend upon it, the spurious articles too
often foisted upon the public under that name--alliances in which
this world’s goods are everything, and the treasures of the next world
nothing--come from quite another manufactory.”
Then there was a pause, and then Rose inquired when he proposed to set
out.
“Why, there is no good in procrastinating,” was the reply; “the sooner I
start the sooner I shall be back again, so to-morrow the lawyer gets the
necessary papers ready; the next day good Lady Goosecap here is to be
married, and I mean to attend the ceremony in order to learn how
to behave on such an occasion; and the day after that, if nothing
unforeseen occurs to prevent me, I’m off!”
“You will write very often--every----” (Frere raised his eyebrows) “well
then, every other day, will you not?” urged Rose appealingly.
“What queer things women are!” soliloquised Frere. “Now, if you had been
going to the North Pole,” he continued, addressing Rose, “it would never
have occurred to me to _ask_ you to write--I should have taken it
for granted that if you had discovered the northwest passage, or done
anything else worth mentioning, you would have let one know; and why
people write if they have nothing to say I can’t think.”
“At all events, it is a satisfaction when we are parted from those who
are dear to us to be assured that they are well,” suggested Rose.
“Oh, nothing ever ails me,” replied Frere, quietly appropriating the
remark; “there is not a doctor in the country who has ever received one
farthing of my money; and as to physic--throw physic to the dogs, always
supposing you to have any such abomination to dispose of, and any dogs
at hand to throw it to: it’s a thing I don’t know the taste of, and
where ignorance is bliss--well, never mind, I’ll write to you all the
same, if you have a weakness that way, whenever I can find pens, paper,
and a post-office; only if my letters should happen to be rather prosy,
somewhat in the much-ado-about-nothing style, small blame to me, that’s
all.” Thus the expedition was agreed upon, and Rose having told Frere
some hundred things which he was to say to and inquire of Lewis, sat
down to write a _few_ more “notes and queries,” winding up with a
pathetic appeal to her brother to bring his self-imposed exile to a
conclusion.
So the silver-footed hours turned round the treadmill of time, till the
dewy morn appeared which was to witness the celebration of the nuptials
of Lady Lombard and the mighty Marmaduke De Grande-ville. Oh, the ardour
and bustle of that devoted household! As for the servants, so late did
they sit up and so early did they rise, that going to bed at all became
rather a superstitious observance than a beneficial practice. Then
everybody had to dress, first themselves and then somebody else; and the
amount of white muslin concentrated in that happy family rendered space
crisp, and gave a look of pastoral simplicity to the most iniquitously
gorgeous arrangements of modern upholstery.
The bride’s dress was wonderful--words are powerless to describe
it--happy those women who, favoured beyond all other daughters of Eve,
were permitted to behold it. One very young lady, rash in her ignorance,
ventured to ask how much the lace cost a yard. The French artiste,
Mademoiselle Melanie Amandine Celestine Seraphine Belledentelles,
piously invoked six authorised female saints, besides the deceased
Madame Tournour, at whose flounces she had sat to acquire her art,
and whom, on her lamented removal to Père la Chaise, she had privately
canonised for her own especial use and behoof, and thus supported did
_not_ faint. The “mistress of the robes,” a black-eyed, brown-cheeked
grisette, turned as pale as her complexion permitted her and sank upon a
chair, but being unprovided with a smelling-bottle, thought it advisable
not to proceed to extremities, and the mother of the culprit hurried
forward, and with great presence of mind led her from the room--such
mysteries are not for the profane.
Then occurred a tremendous episode--the dress was disposed in graceful
folds over the ample person of its fortunate possessor, and fitted
seraphically; only the bottom hook and eye, situated in the region round
about the waist, would by no means permit themselves to be united, and
a lucid interval, _hiatus valde lachrymabilis_, was the fearful
consequence. The grisette did her very utmost, but her strength was
inadequate to command the success her zeal deserved, and with flushed
cheeks and tearful eyes she glanced appealingly to Mademoiselle Melanie
Amandine, etc., etc.
That ardent foreigner stepped forward to the rescue, all the noble
self-confidence of her nation flashing in her coal-black eyes, and
gallantly assumed the post of danger--she was a small woman, but her
frame was compact and wiry, and Tydeus-like--
“Her little body held a mighty mind.”
Setting to work with spirit, she devoted all her energies to the task
before her, aged Lady Lombard winced palpably, unconsciously echoing
Hamlet’s well-known aspiration--but that good lady’s melting moods were
unfortunately mental, not bodily, and in this attempt “to take her in”
even the French dressmaker was foiled; the “too solid” substance was
not compressible beyond a certain point, and with a sigh which had a
marvellous resemblance to the word _sacr-r-r-e_, Mademoiselle Melanie
Amandine, etc., etc., desisted.
“_Ah! qu’ils sont difficiles ces agraffes!_” she exclaimed, rubbing her
little hands with a theatrical gesture. “I have not to myself force in
_les poignets_, vot you call oncles.”
[Illustration: 0462]
“Wrists,” mildly suggested Mrs. Arundel, who was assisting to attire the
bride--“mine are very strong, let me try”--and suiting the action to the
word, she, Curtius-like, endeavoured to close the yawning gulf, but in
vain.
“_Ah non! c’est impossible_--you shall only hurt your hands too motch,
_chère Madame Hirondelle_,” resumed Mademoiselle--“permit me to ring
zie bell, we shall make approach _le maître d’hôtel_, vot you call zie
coachman of zie chambaire, who shall have much of force, _et ce sera un
fait accompli_.”
“Stop, Madurmoysel,” exclaimed Lady Lombard aghast, as the energetic
Frenchwoman laid her hand upon the bell-rope--“Stop, if you please, I
should not like--that is, it is not exactly the custom to admit the male
domestics into one’s bedroom.”
For a moment the Frenchwoman appeared utterly puzzled as to the reason
of the objection, then a light broke in upon her, and she began, “_Ah,
je comprends!_ it ees not etiquette; _que je suis bête!_ how I am
stupide! _mais qu’ils sont drôles ces petits scandales Anglais! Vraiment
c’est comme la comédie. A Paris nous ne remarquons pas ces petits riens;
et en Allemagne_, zie schneider, vat you call tailor, _ils font toutes
les robes--mais comment faire donc?_”
“Why really, Madurmoysel, _je nur par_--I mean, I don’t think I could
bear it, if it was got to,” remonstrated Lady Lombard; “don’t you think
the hook and eye might be moved a little? it’s unfortunate I am so
stout--_mais je nur_--can’t help it.”
“_Oh, mille pardons, miladi_. Your lady sheep shall not be too stout;
_après la première jeunesse l’embonpoint_ is a great beauty; but zie
hook and ee, _à est dommage; cependant, nous verrons_, ve shall see vot
vill be done.” And so saying, Mademoiselle Melanie etc.’s nimble fingers
went to work, and a quarter of an inch was graciously accorded; by which
means the impossible became possible, and the crisis was safely got
over.
As to breakfast (not _the_ wedding-breakfast, but the breakfast before
the wedding, two very different matters), that was a regular, or rather
an irregular scramble: people ate and drank standing, like horses, but
in a general way feelings were stronger than appetites, and with the
exception of one middle-aged lady, blessed with a powerful intellect and
a weak digestion, who having medical authority never to allow herself to
feel hungry, breakfasted three times that morning with three different
divisions of the party, little justice was done to the viands.
Rose made herself generally useful, helping all the neglected ones, and
bringing comforts to the uncomfortable, until she scarcely left herself
time to dress, and yet appearing the most charming little bridesmaid of
the lot, although her five companions did not disgrace their uniform
of white muslin with pink embellishments (the white symbolising their
maiden innocence, and the pink suggesting the cheerfulness with which
they would be willing to exchange it for the honourable estate of
matrimony).
Then the carriages came to take up, and Mrs. Arundel and the fair
Susannah, relict of Col. Brahmin, H.E.I.C.S., had the greatest
difficulty in sustaining the weak nerves and fluttered spirits of the
bride elect, who, as she herself expressed it, “borne down by two such
agitating sets of recollections,” might well be overcome. However, by
the assistance of a rich male Lombard relation (whose wealth gilded his
vulgarity till Mammon worshippers believed this calf a deity) she
was safely conveyed to the church, where De Grandeville awaited her,
accompanied by a splendid old ancestor, who might by a very slight
stretch of imagination have been taken for _the_ identical De
Grandeville who had come over with the Conqueror, and been carefully
preserved (in port wine) ever since. Bracy was there, looking
preternaturally solemn, all but his eyes, in which, for the time being,
the whole mischief of his nature appeared concentrated, and Frere with
him, serving his apprenticeship, as Bracy phrased it.
In solemn procession they approached the altar, where the priest awaited
them, and opening his book, read to them an account of the true nature
of the ceremony they were about to celebrate--how it was “instituted by
God in the time of man’s innocency,” and was symbolical of high and holy
things, and being ordained to assist us in fulfilling the various duties
for which we are placed in this world, and on the due performance of
which will greatly depend our weal or woe for everlasting, it should
not be undertaken lightly or unadvisedly; then De Grandeville, having
learned the theory of the matter, proceeded to afford a practical
commentary on the text by solemnly promising to love and honour Lady
Lombard till death them should part, while she, in return, pledged
herself (with less chance of perjury) to serve, obey, and _keep_ him
during the term of her natural life; then he, Marmaduke, took her,
Sarah, from the hands of the wealthy Lombard relation, and declared
that he did so “for richer, for poorer,” though we much fear, if he
had foreseen the smallest probability of the realisation of this latter
proviso, the ceremony would have been then and there interrupted,
instead of proceeding as it did, sweetly and edifyingly, till it wound
up with “any amazement.” And everybody being much pleased and thoroughly
satisfied, there was, of course, a great deal of crying, though why
they cried, unless it was to see so solemn an institution thus wantonly
profaned, and to hear people use words of prayer and praise, and worship
God with their lips, while in their hearts they were sacrificing all the
bitter feelings of their nature before the altar of Mammon, we cannot
tell.
Amongst the rest Mrs. Arundel wept most meritoriously, until catching
sight of Bracy sobbing aloud into a very large pocket-handkerchief, her
weeping became somewhat hysterical, and ended in a sound suspiciously
like laughter. Then people crowded into the vestry, which was about the
size of a good four-post bedstead, and names were signed, and fees paid,
and small jokes made, and then the whole party took coach and returned
to the house, where _the_ wedding-breakfast awaited them. The humours
of a wedding-breakfast have been described so often and so well, that we
shall merely give a very faint outline of the leading idiosyncrasies of
the affair in question.
In the first place, people were very hungry, Nature having asserted her
rights and promoted Appetite, _vice_ Feeling sold (or rather starved)
out. Even the lady with the weak digestion (which made up by increased
velocity for want of stamina) adding a very substantial fourth to her
three previous breakfasts. Then, as mouths grew disengaged, tongues
found room to wag, healths were drunk, and the speechifying began. First
uprose the De Grandeville ancestor, who was a tall, thin, not to
say shadowy old gentleman, with a hooked nose and a weak voice, who
whispered to the company that “he rose to”--here his face twitched
violently and he paused, in evident distress,--“he rose to”--here a
tremendous sneeze accounted for the previous spasm, and the patient,
evidently relieved, proceeded, “he rose to”--once again he paused,
struggling furiously with the tails of his coat--“he begged to call
the attention of the company to--he had”--still the struggles with
the coat-tail continued--“he had a toast to propose;” here, amidst
breathless attention, he whispered to his nephew in an aside,
audible throughout the whole room, “Marmaduke, I’ve left it in
my great-coat--the left-hand pocket, you know;” “the toast was
this”--“Thank you, Jenkins,” to the butler, who brought the missing
handkerchief on a silver waiter, sticky with the overflowings of
champagne--“_this_ was his toast--he hoped that the company would do it
justice--Health and happiness to the bride and bridegroom.”
And the company did it justice; so much so, that if the health and
happiness of the newly-married pair depended on the amount of champagne
their friends appeared willing to drink at their expense, sickness and
sorrow were evils against which they might consider themselves amply
secured. Silence being restored, the bridegoom rose to return thanks,
his inborn greatness manifesting itself in every look and gesture, and
dignified condescension adding a new grace to his sonorous voice and
grandiloquent delivery. Having glanced round the table with the air of
a monarch (in a fairy extravaganza) about to address his parliament, he
cleared his noble throat and began--
“In rising to--ar--return thanks for the honour you have done us, in so
cordially assenting to the toast proposed by a man whose presence might
confer a favour upon the most aristocratic assembly in the
land--a man whom--ar--even at this moment, which I have no
hesitation--ar--in--ar”--(hear, hear, and question from Bracy)--“I
repeat, no hesitation in--in--no hesitation in--ar--declaring to be at
once the proudest and happiest moment of my life--a man who, even in
this season of felicity, I yet distinctly--ar--yes, distinctly say,
I envy; for he has the honour to represent the elder branch of
that ancient and illustrious house of which I am a comparatively
insignificant” (a groan of indignant denial from Bracy, which procured
him a gracious smile from the speaker), “yes, I--ar--repeat it, a
comparatively insignificant, but I hope not an entirely unworthy
descendant.” Here Bracy, after a slight struggle with Frere, who sought
to prevent him, rose, and speaking apparently under feelings of the
greatest excitement, said, “He was sorry to interrupt the flow of
eloquence which was so much delighting the company, but he was certain
every one would agree with him in saying that Mr. de Grandeville’s last
observation, however creditable it might be to him, as evincing his
unparalleled and super-Christian (if he might be allowed the term)
humility, could not be allowed to pass unchallenged. He put it to them
collectively, as intellectual beings; he put it to them individually, as
gallant men and lovely women (immense sensation)--if his noble friend,
the illustrious man to whose burning eloquence they had just
been listening, were allowed to set himself forth to the world as
‘comparatively insignificant’ and ‘not entirely unworthy,’--he asked
them _if_ such terms as these were allowed to be applied to such a
character as that, _where_ was society to seek its true ‘monarchs of
mind’? where should it look for those heaven-gifted soul-heroes--those
giants of thought, those ‘Noblers’ and ‘that _Noblest_,’ to quote the
glowing words of one of the leading writers of the age, by whom its
evils were to be remedied, its abuses reformed, and its whole nature
purified and regenerated?--he put it to them to declare whether Mr. de
Grandeville must not be entreated to recall his words?”
Deafening applause followed Bracy’s harangue, and the amendment was
carried _nem. con_. Thus fooled to the top of his bent, De Grandeville
resumed his speech, and after making a very absurd display of egotistic
nonsense, family pride, and personal pretensions, gave the health of the
company generally, and of his ancient ancestor and the vulgar Lombard
relation in particular. Then more healths were drunk and more speeches
made, and a great amount of stupidity elicited, interspersed with
some drollery, when Bracy was called upon to return thanks for the
bridesmaids, which he did in an affected falsetto, smiling, blushing,
coquetting, and screwing up imaginary ringlets, much after the fashion
of the inimitable John Parry, when it pleases him to enact one of the
young ladies of England in the nineteenth century. Then the female
portion of the company retired to relieve their feelings by a little
amateur crying and kissing, champagne and susceptibility being
mysteriously united in the tender bosoms of the softer sex; then the
miraculous robe was taken off and the bride re-attired for travelling;
then the gentlemen came upstairs, all more or less “peculiar” from
drinking wine at that unaccustomed hour in the morning, and some little
business was transacted; one spirited bridesmaid, who had had a shy
young man nibbling for some time, actually harpooning her fish, and
landing him skilfully beyond all chance of floundering out of an
engagement, by referring him on the spot to mamma. Mrs. Arundel, who
by this time had learned to entertain a most lady-like and unchristian
hatred against the fair Susannah, maliciously laid herself out to
captivate the limp and unstable affections of Mr. Dackerell Dace,
and succeeded so well, that she actually began to deliberate whether
opulence and triumph over her rival might not render Dace endurable as
a permanency. Then the travelling carriage with Newman’s four greys drew
up to the door, and the stereotyped adieus were spoken, the stereotyped
smiles smiled, and tears shed, and all the necessary nonsense rehearsed
with most painstaking diligence, the only original feature in the whole
affair being Frere’s remark to Bracy as the happy pair drove off--
“You were about right, old fellow, when you compared marrying to
hanging. I tell you what it is--sooner than undergo all this parade of
folly, absurdity, and bad taste, I’ll be spliced at the pier-head at
Dover, and set sail for Calais as soon as the ring is on the bride’s
finger; better be sea-sick than sick at heart with such rubbish as we’ve
been witness to.”