… “Some sport
Amid the waves, like monsters of the deep,
And some, among the foliage of the groves.”
All now assumed their fancy dresses. Julia, Frances, and the four Misses
Morven, were, by Lord Arandale’s wish, habited as sea-nymphs.
The principal covering consisted of a long clinging robe of a bright
green. Around the bust was wrapped white gauze, of the slightest texture;
its folds so arranged, as to resemble, as much as possible, the crested
foam of ocean; from which, the head, neck, and arms, seemed, as it were,
emerging; while a part of the same drapery fell over one shoulder, and
floated loosely behind the figure, like the line of light on divided
waters. Through various parts of the dress was twisted bright scarlet
coral, intermingled with tufts of sea-weeds, bound together by clusters
of the most brilliant emeralds, seemingly unset, and mixed with small
shells, to give their grouping a natural appearance; while over all were
scattered costly pearls, innumerable, neither strung nor set. The feet
and ankles, in particular, were entirely encrusted with ornaments of this
mixed description, as if the accumulation had been collected, by treading
the rocks and caverns of the fathomless deep, among Neptune’s hidden
treasures.
The very long fair hair of the sisters, worn quite loose, was peculiarly
becoming to this costume. It hung around in a shower of brightness,
as though sunbeams were gilding the light spray with which, sportive
movements through the watery element, thus partially covered, as with a
sparkling yet transparent veil, each lovely vision. This group did not
wear masks; as they were to assist in receiving the company.
A small ante-room, the first of the suite thrown open on the present
occasion, was fitted up to represent a cave. Before its entrance lay
irregular masses of rock, on which were seated some of the Misses Morven,
in their sea-nymph attire, combing their dishevelled locks with branches
of coral, and singing the while, like the Syrens of old; till, on the
approach of guests, they would dart off with looks of well feigned
wildness, into the mouth of the cave; serving thus by their mockery of
flight, as guides to the company. The interior of the cave was decorated
with coral, growing out of the crevices of the rock, and budding with
precious stones; slender sea-plants gracefully pendant from each
projecting point; every variety of magnificent shell, from some of which
seemed to proceed strains of the wildest music, like the notes of Eolian
harps; whilst others sent forth sounds, resembling the rushing of mighty
waters. Under foot shone golden sands, promiscuously strewn with pearls
and variegated pebbles; while fragments of spar and many-sided crystal,
containing concealed lamps, being the only visible sources of light, gave
to the whole a magical effect. Here, in picturesque attitudes, reclining
on couches of feathery and rainbow tinted seaweed, appeared the principal
figures of the group. They too were singing, but in sweeter strains than
those without, and in harmony with the thrilling breathings, still
proceeding from the shells.
On the entrance of the guests, led in by the flying Misses Morven, the
recumbent nymphs, gracefully moving their arms in time to the soft music,
by looks and gestures indicated the way through each recess of the cave
to an outlet at its further extremity, which led into the next reception
room.
The advancing company now found themselves in a seeming grove of fine
old oaks, the stems of which were entwined, and the branches festooned
with laurel. Triumphal wreaths of the latter material were also borne
aloft in the joyous dance by a group of wood-nymphs, wearing on their
heads, crowns, and over their shoulders, garlands of roses, with which
were intermingled leaves, both from the forest tree and its triumphal
wreathings; signifying, that if we would have the gentler blossoms of
our gardens flourish, the oak and the laurel must be cultivated.
All who entered the grove in naval uniform, were conducted by two of
the nymphs to an open space among the trees; where Lady Susan, in the
character of Britannia, was seated on a beautiful throne, curiously
carved in marble to represent the white cliffs of Albion; canopied by
oaks, and sheltered, on either side, by a luxuriant growth of laurel;
the steps of the throne, subject waves spell bound to the stillness of
stone, by the presence of their awful mistress; while on one of them
stood Triton, with his conch at his lips, in the attitude of awaiting
command. The rich harmonies of “Rule, Britannia!” meantime filled the air
every where; as though the old oaks themselves had been the performers;
for, while the deeper tones seemed to come mellowed from within the
imprisonment of their knotted trunks, the softer ones were heard
whispering at large among the waving of their lofty tops.
Each claimant being led to the feet of Britannia, she took a laurel
wreath from the hands of her attendant nymphs, and, with a gracious
smile, (a triumphal flourish from the conch of Triton at the same moment
proclaiming the act,) placed it on the brows of the hero.
In the great room appeared a motley crowd in the costumes of all the
nations under heaven; so that, on first entering, a traveller’s eye would
have been reminded of the great mart at Gibraltar.
Lord Arandale had requested that all officers should wear uniform; Edmund
could not, therefore, without incurring the charge of affectation, avoid
compliance.
Habited, accordingly, in his full dress, or roast beef coat, and (for
things could not be done by halves) decorated with every star and garter
he had ever won, he made his appearance in the marine cave. But, having
fatally neglected the precaution taken by the wise Ulysses against the
voices of Syrens, he found it quite impossible to proceed further; and,
indeed, seemed to be so much at home among the sea-nymphs, that landsmen,
as they passed, were induced to make many witty comments, vowing they
would never again compassionate sailors, on the score of their privations.
They had heard, indeed, of mermaids, and read of Syrens; but, as the
former were proverbial for a very uninteresting peculiarity of form, and
the latter were called, by Johnson, sea-monsters, they had no idea that
the rocks and caves of old ocean were inhabited by such water angels as
those they now beheld.
Lady Morven appeared as a Sultana, dressed in all that could be devised
of magnificence. Having some taste, her ladyship made many deviations
from the hackneyed costume—wearing one, the groundwork of which, instead
of being of the strong and unbecoming colours generally adopted, was of
white satin; though that pure fabric was nearly covered with rich highly
raised embroidery of the most brilliant hues, mixed with gold. Both tunic
and petticoat were deeply bordered and fringed with gold, and the latter
adorned with peculiar richness up the front, where the opening of the
former displayed it to great advantage. The trowser and open hanging
sleeve were of course not forgotten, while the numberless claspings,
fastenings, and loopings, bracelets and armlets, with the superb zone and
stomacher, necklace and crescent, all of jewels, chiefly brilliants,
brought together such a concentration of dazzling rays, that, when over
all was flung a veil of a material so transparent that nothing of it
could be seen but the beautiful miniature flowers, embroidered in gold
and bright colours, with which it was sprinkled; those flowers, as the
moving of the invisible drapery caused them to float around, seemed so
many painted and glittering butterflies, following and fluttering in the
blaze of light emitted by so much splendour. The bird of paradise too,
worn in front of the turban, and sustained by the crescent of jewels, was
thus so severed by their lustre from all that seemed tangible, that he
appeared hovering above the bright vision, as doubtful where to alight.
Her ladyship leaned on the arm of Mr. Graham, who had assumed the dress
of a Sultan, on being assured that it would not be required of him to do
any thing but loll on an ottoman.
Next appeared a group consisting of an old blind man, selling matches,
and led by a dog—an excellent figure; a little girl, driving a
wheelbarrow of apples, and calling them vociferously; and a middle-aged
woman, crying the last dying speech of the latest executed murderer. Now
a group of Circassian slaves; now a number of naval officers, arm and
arm; now many curious groups of wandering musicians, ballad singers,
and pedlars of various countries. Herds of foreign peasants; then came
Turks, Jews, May-morning dancers; these last, children; their queen, a
lovely little creature, leading a lamb by a wreath of roses, while the
gaily decorated pole, with its many garlands, showered the fragrance
of fresh flowers wherever it passed; then a group of archers of the
Royal Edinburgh Society. In short, enumeration would be endless. Next
appeared a set of gypsies, one of the figures very good—an old man with
grey hair, and bent double, leading an excellent imitation of a small
donkey, animated within by a little boy, and bearing on the centre of
the sack, which was thrown across its back, an infant in wax, seemingly
just able to sit in a little heap, by help of the old cloak, drawn tight
about it; the deception complete. This group took the liberty of making
a halt for a short time in the grove, where, under one of the old trees,
they pitched a tent, and from a projecting branch of another, at a little
distance, suspended a kettle, under which they set fire to some exquisite
perfumes, in the form of faggots; while one of the youngest and prettiest
of their party sat on the ground, blowing the embers to a flame, without
other means than her own rosy lips; till, smoke and all, the gipsey
encampment formed a very picturesque object.
Among the gipsies were some amusing fortune-tellers, but these latter
were all thrown into shade by the striking figure of an Indian juggler,
who came in soon after, quite alone. He was tall, and dressed in long
loose black robes. Instead of passing on, he paused before the party in
the cave, waved his wand, and looked fixedly at them. His countenance
was covered by a peculiarly hideous black mask, through which his eyes
flashed with a supernatural ferocity, assisted by fiery regions of
stained crystal around the apertures. He made signs that he was dumb, but
that he wished to show Julia her fortune, and immediately passing his
wand between her and Edmund, waved to all to make a clear space; then
drawing a circle round Julia, pointed to it and to Edmund, stamped with
his foot, and seemed to forbid his passing the magic boundary. Edmund
made several laughing attempts to enter the circle, but the juggler as
often interposed his wand and stamped again. The juggler next taking
Henry by the arm, placed him beside Julia within the circle. “So, I am
to be the happy man, it seems!” said Henry, carelessly taking the hand of
his cousin. She appeared not to like the jest, and hastily endeavoured to
withdraw her hand, but he held it fast, giving her a glance which made
her tremble. The juggler now displayed a ring, which he gave to Henry,
who placed it on Julia’s finger so suddenly, that she was not aware what
he was about to do, and said, “This is my wife.” At the same moment, the
words, “This is my husband,” proceeded, or seemed to proceed from the
lips of Julia, in a voice loud and distinct, though unlike that in which
she usually spoke. “No! no! no!” she cried instantly, in her own voice,
flinging off the ring, and darting out of the circle.
“Yes! yes! yes!” said a voice from beneath the ground on which they
stood. “Yes! yes! yes!” repeated voices from within the rocks on every
side, successively, and finally from above their heads, till the last
sound seemed lost in distance. The juggler, the while, pointing with his
wand, now here, now there, still indicating the spot whence the voice
seemed to proceed.
“Was it not you then that said, this is my husband?” enquired two or
three of the young ladies, turning to Julia. “Nonsense! nonsense!” she
exclaimed pettishly.
“The fellow is a ventriloquist,” said Edmund aside to the inquisitive
Misses Morven, who seemed never to have heard one before. At the same
time, approaching our heroine, he offered her his arm, for she seemed
to need support, and he felt, too, secretly delighted by the visible
antipathy to the idea of a union with Henry, even in jest, evinced by the
countenance and involuntary movements of Julia. Henry, however, drew her
other hand over his arm, without even asking her permission.
“Well, Julia!” he said, laughing, “thank heaven, we are married at last,
and publicly enough this time,” he added, pretending to lower his voice.
“Remember,” he proceeded, again raising it, and again affecting to laugh,
“you can never be off, in Scotland, after saying before two witnesses,
the awful words—This is my husband!”
“As I never did, however, nor ever shall say so,” commenced Julia. Henry
interrupted our heroine, by observing carelessly, “that reminds me of the
lady in the play, who swears to her father, never to marry her lover,
after she is married to him already.”
This remark, though made with the greatest levity, shocked Edmund more
than he was willing to confess, even to himself; not that, at the time,
he believed it to allude to any thing more than the folly which had just
passed.
“How very funny! how very funny!” said several of the young ladies.
“Those sort of jokes are very disagreeable, I think,” said Julia. “Oh,
you don’t think it a subject for jesting upon?” observed Henry, not
at all disconcerted. “Nor do I, Julia, believe me!” he added, again
affecting to lower his voice.
“The part of the juggler is certainly very well sustained,” remarked
Frances. “Yes, very well indeed,” said Julia, bowing to the juggler. “The
company seem to be almost collected,” she added, “so I think we may now
go to the great room, and commence dancing.”
Henry, thinking he had now sufficiently plagued Julia, dropped her arm,
and offered his services to two of the Misses Morven. Edmund could not
resist the opportunity of turning to our heroine, and saying, in a
whisper—“for heaven’s sake, Julia, what does Henry mean?” “He thinks
his absurdity wit, I suppose,” she replied, without hesitation. Edmund,
at the moment, felt re-assured, by the ready frankness of her manner,
though long after, and when new circumstances had arisen, he remembered
that the words of her reply were, certainly, very evasive. One of the
Misses Morven begged to have her fortune told. The juggler drew the magic
circle around her, and then, with his arms folded, stood motionless.
The unclaimed damsel looked round to see who was to be her companion.
The juggler waved his wand, as though interdicting the approach of any
intruder. The spectators began to laugh; and the young lady got out of
her solitary sphere, declaring that fortune-telling was a very dull
amusement.