Now go with me, and with this holy man,
Into the chauntry by: there before him,
And underneath that consecrated roof,
Plight me the full assurance of your faith!
TWELFTH NIGHT.
The thirty-first day of October, sixteen hundred ninety and ----,
being the birth-day of our heroine, was the morning appointed for
the solemnization of the nuptials of Sir David Bruce and the Lady
Adelaide Raymond. The young lady's consent, and that of her noble
parents, having been previously obtained, and also that _sine qua non_
preliminary of nuptial happiness--to wit, a marriage license, having
been duly and properly procured, no obstacle to their happy union now
remained. Preparations upon a grand scale had been in a progressive
state of forwardness for some weeks at Tyrconnel Castle, to crown the
nuptial banquet, and every delicacy and luxury that taste could select,
or that money could procure, were not wanting to furnish forth the
splendid marriage feast. The Duke of Tyrconnel, in order to add to the
pomp and circumstance of the event, had a new state coach built for the
happy bridal day, _selon des reglès_, as then the fashion of the day
controlled. The carriage was connected by massive crane necks, which in
our modern days of fashion have crept down and shrunk into a slender
perch; these were richly carved and gilt. The wheels were of a very
circumscribed orbit; and the naves were gilt, as well as the spokes.
The springs likewise were of burnished gold; while the ponderous
massive body, with shape (if it could so be called) which much more,
in sooth, resembled a city barge abducted from its natural element,
and aided by wheels in its terrestrial progressions; or perhaps as
cumbersome, although not as unsightly, as a French diligence--but
assuredly not to be compared with the present modern _turn-out_ of a
nobleman. Ducal coronets of brass, richly embossed and gilt, adorned
and surrounded the four angles of the roof of the state carriage.
A splendidly embroidered hammer-cloth mantled the coach-box, which
was destined to glitter in the last rays of a brilliant October sun,
upon this ever-memorable day, and to glance forth the rich emblazoned
quarterings of the noble houses of Tyrconnel and O'Nial. The superb
liveries of the domestics were neither overlooked nor forgotten upon
this happy occasion; they were indeed truly magnificent; they were of
rich green cloth, with gold embroidery and trimming.
Sir David Bruce had also duly in readiness a very handsome town
chariot, which he had caused to be built for the occasion. This was
drawn by four handsome horses, and guided by two postillions, preceded
by two outriders, and in the rere followed by two footmen on horseback,
their housings ornamented with the Bruce crest in embroidery, and
from each holster peeped forth travelling pistols, mounted in chased
silver, and richly ornamented. The outriders had the additional
appendage of belts slung from their shoulders, to each of which were
attached small silver powder flasks, or priming horns. The same state
attended upon the duke and duchess. Six running footmen, (the fashion
of the day,) with ribbons streaming at their knees, and with long
white walking-poles, entwined with ribbon and surmounted with favours,
preceded the carriage of the duke, and as many were the precursors of
the carriage in which were seated the duchess and the beauteous bride.
Such was to be the pomp and procession destined for this illustrious
bridal.
Old Cormac seemed resolutely determined that he at least should not
be omitted in the _dramatis personæ_ of this most memorable day. At
an early hour, therefore, with due intention of the full performance
of his resolve, he was seen flitting from alley green to the dark
embowered wood, bearing his constant companion, his harp; and as the
old gardener somewhat quaintly expressed it, "he was for a' the warld
like a hen on a het girdle!"
Old honest Cormac's intention could not long be mistaken or
misunderstood; for soon with right shoulder forward, and strong
intuitive confidence, he stoutly marched onward, nor did the veteran
halt until he had reached Lady Adelaide's flower garden, where he
was often accustomed to sit and play; where having arrived, he soon
seated himself upon a rustic chair, beneath the casement of the Lady
Adelaide's chamber, where anon he began to strum and tune his harp.
The moment that the sightless bard had begun his minstrelsy, vocal
and instrumental, it was with considerable delight and joy that he
distinctly heard the casement window of Lady Adelaide to be thrown
open. Meanwhile the lovely fair (in whose honest praise the poetic
raptures of the ancient minstrel were composed) looked down upon
her old, faithful, and favourite bard, while mirthfully he sung and
accompanied the following:--
NUPTIAL SONG.
Sweet Robin, perch'd on yonder spray,
So sweetly sings his matin lay,
To welcome forth this brilliant day,
And greet the Bruce and Adelaide!
Behold the sun with genial gleam,
O'er the lofty mountain beam,
Dispelling mist like nightly dream,
To cheer the Bruce and Adelaide!
Arise fair lady!--Love, perchance,
Hath pow'r to wake thee from this trance,
And hail the matin hour's advance,
So dear to Bruce and Adelaide!
O'er him, the fond, the gen'rous youth,
O'er her who gave her plighted truth--
On both may bliss each treasure shed,
While children crown the bridal bed
Of noble Bruce and Adelaide!
And oh! until their final hour,
May friendship cheer, and love have pow'r
To spread each charm amid their bow'r,
And bless the Bruce and Adelaide!
Here ceased the old sightless Cormac, while tears of deep and intense
feeling and affection trickled down his venerable, time-furrowed
cheeks.
Adelaide descended from her chamber, and entering the garden, with
great sweetness and condescension approached the old minstrel: "Thanks,
many thanks, my kind and ancient bard, for this thy matin lay; and here
too is a boon withal for the minstrel."--At the same time placing a
gold doubloon in his hand.
"Oh, receive my warm, grateful thanks, my dear, kind--my noble young
mistress--_Cead millia failtha_! May the benison of the sightless bard
bless you and yours for ever and ever! Indeed I dare not refuse the
bridal present, for it carries luck and happiness, and every thing that
is kind, and noble, and good, along with it. God bless you, young lady,
and may you be as happy as you deserve; this, young lady, is the warm
and fervent prayer of poor blind old Cormac!"
The Lady Adelaide felt much affected with the respect and affection
manifested by the ancient minstrel, and once more thanking him for his
verses, adjourned to the breakfast-room. While on her way she was met
by Sir David Bruce at the garden door, and according to the fashion
and reserve of that day, he ceremoniously led by the hand his lovely
mistress. They now entered the breakfast parlour, where they found the
duke with the family assembled, to whom they kindly bade good morrow.
The worthy and venerable Bishop Bonhomme and his lady had arrived,
as also the bride's-maids, and the whole of the company who had been
invited to the wedding. And the bridal breakfast having begun and
ended, the splendid equipages of the noble party were ordered to
approach the grand porch of the castle. And here that our fair readers
may not "burst in ignorance" of the mode and manner in which a marriage
in high life was conducted in those times by the _gens de condition_,
we shall endeavour to give a report, albeit not copied _verbatim_ from
the court gazette of the day.
Bishop Bonhomme and his lady first departed from the castle, ascending
their state chariot, if indeed it could be called ascending a vehicle,
the body of which was barely raised some inches above the carriage
part, and which was all richly carved and gilt, and also attached by
low massive crane-necks. The single step by which the ascent into the
chariot was accomplished, was fastened perpendicularly at the outside:
it was finely carved and gilt, and of the shape and form of the escalop
shell, and two golden keys, interlaced and embossed, adorned its
centre. In lieu of leather pannels at the sides and back, the body was
ornamented all around with windows of rich plate glass, from the royal
factory of Saint Idelphonso, by means of which a full view was clearly
presented to the spectator of those within.
The bishop wore a full-dress orthodox peruke; he was arrayed in his
robes and lawn sleeves; his white bridal gloves were trimmed with gold.
He looked very episcopal and dignified. The pannels of the chariot
were emblazoned with their due quantity of mitres; a rich _bordure_ of
the crozier, interlaced with foliations of the shamrock, adorned the
sides and angles. The state chariot was drawn by six sleek, stately,
coalblack steeds, whose long and bushy tails nearly swept the ground.
It was driven by an old, fat, jolly-looking coachman, who displayed
fully to every beholder that he was not stinted in his meals at the
palace, to which his portentous paunch bore full attestation. He was
assisted by two postillions, arrayed in rich purple jackets and purple
velvet caps. Six footmen, in their episcopal state liveries, stood
behind. Next in the procession came on the state coach and six of the
duke, in which were seated his Grace and two of his Reverend chaplains.
Then followed the state coach and six which contained the duchess and
her lovely daughter, and Lady Adelaide's two bride's-maids. Next came
on the chariot and four of Sir David Bruce, which contained the Baronet
and Sir Patricius Placebo. These were followed by numerous carriages of
the surrounding nobility and gentry; the servants all decorated with
silver favours; while numerous parties of the tenants and peasants,
"dressed in all their best," some on horseback and others on foot,
closed the extended cavalcade.
The joyful pealing of the sacred chimes now cheerily rang forth from
the cathedral tower, to salute the natal morn of Lady Adelaide.
Meanwhile a number of female peasants were seen advancing, arrayed in
white, their heads garlanded with living flowers. They danced before
the bride's carriage; and so soon as the cavalcade had reached the
cathedral porch, as the bride entered, they strewed the way before with
rosemary, gilliflowers, and marygolds; the mystery and signification
of which was this--the first stood for remembrance, the second for
gentleness, and the last for marriage, being an alliteration between
the name of the flower and that of the thing signified.
Old Bellrope, the sexton and verger, who, "man and boy," had witnessed
many nuptials celebrated in the venerable cathedral, solemnly
asseverated that he had never before set eye upon so beautiful a
couple! To do due honours to the ceremony, he had newly purchased
a verger's gown, and wore a purple cloth coat, waistcoat, and
indispensables, which had appertained in the olden time to some pious
bishop of defunct celebrity. His wig was very commendably frizzed,
thanks to the skill and indefatigability of Madam Bellrope, and looked
unusually gay, from a judicious distribution of a successful foray made
upon the drudging-box by the said thrifty dame, so that it provoked a
remark from Sandy Rakeweel, the gardener at the castle, an honest old
Caledonian devoid of guile:--"That indeed auld Bellrope's peruke for a'
the warld remeended him o' aine of his awn kale plants in fu' flower in
the middle o' August."
The noble procession entered the cathedral porch, where being duly
marshalled in meet heraldic pomp, rank, and file, the distinguished
persons proceeded along the venerable nave. Lady Adelaide was
arrayed in a silver tissue, a splendid tiara of pearls, in form of a
shamrock-wreath, encircled her noble brow, with ear-rings of the same,
and on her lovely neck she wore "a rich and orient carcanet."[2]
Sir David Bruce, with firm and dignified step and gesture, advanced,
leading onward by the hand to the bridal altar the lovely Lady
Adelaide, her eye beaming with all the radiance of intelligence and
of genius, while the deep glow of health and the blush of modesty
mantled her beauteous cheek as she approached the sacred altar, the
gaze, delight, and admiration of all, high and low, who beheld her. Her
graceful, but bashful step, and her modest mien, reminded the spectator
of Milton's fine description of Eve, when
"Onward she came, led by her heav'nly Maker," &c.
[Footnote 2: Carcanet, the diminutive of _carcan_, a chain;--it
means a necklace.]
As pure and spotless Adelaide stepped to the holy altar. But it was
impossible to withhold the veneration and admiration called forth
by the appearance, voice, manner, and noble countenance of the good
bishop, who, indeed, more than seemed "the beauty of holiness," while
with a clear, distinct, and dignified intonation of voice, he read the
sacred service.
The ceremony concluded, the bridal party went forth in the same order
in which it had commenced, save that Sir David Bruce and his fair
bride rode in the same carriage from the cathedral. Sir Patricius
Placebo returned in the duke's carriage. The remainder of the morning
was occupied until dinner time in various rides and drives to view
the beauties of the surrounding country; some went out on a boating
excursion on the beautiful lake of Loch-Neagh, others drove out in low
phaetons, or cabriolets; and some went on a walking excursion to view
the lawns and woods of Tyrconnel, thus to occupy the time until dinner.
The elder folks sat down to the green field of the card-table, playing
at primero, cribbage, ombre, &c., _jusque à diner_.
The dinner was splendidly superb. The services of richly chased and
embossed plate which this day decorated the nuptial table, were truly
magnificent. One service was of gold, two others were of silver.
In the evening there was a grand ball, which was opened by Sir David
Bruce and his beauteous bride; they were followed by the Duke and
Duchess of Tyrconnel, who, (ah, good old-fashioned times!) upon this
occasion, tripped it on the light fantastic toe; they were soon
followed by a large group, who danced down the _contrè-danse_ with
great spirit; a smile of joy was evidently seen in the benevolent face
of Bishop Bonhomme, and he was even seen to beat time with his head and
foot.
Brilliant illuminations were observable throughout the domain, various
coloured lamps were garlanded from tree to tree, and likewise across
different avenues in the lawn.
A banquet was spread for the duke's tenantry, where most excellent
and substantial fare was presented in abundance to all; and there was
no lack of strong beer, which flowed forth in streams. Fire-works of
various kinds were played off. And the duke's band of French horns,
stationed in different parts of the park, played various tunes, which
were sweetly echoed by the adjoining woods, and the responding waters
of the Eske.
The tenants and peasantry did not omit the Irish dance, the
_Rinceadh-Fada_, which was danced with great spirit and grace in front
of the windows of the baronial hall. Old Cormac was now summoned to
assist at the ceremonies and the gaiety of the hall. Upon command to
attend, his remark was--"Weel, weel, 'twas anely as I expected!" He
immediately hastened to the festive scene, and brought with him a
Scotch harper, old Donald, who had been a retainer in the family of
Bruce, and whom the intelligence of the nuptials that were that day
to be solemnized had brought into the neighbourhood. Here a polite
and courteous contest arose between the minstrels, each standing
upon etiquette, and quite ready to award to the other the right of
precedence; however, this posing point, _d'embarras_, was at length
finally settled by Donald's declaring, that "he wad na pla' at a' afore
maister Cormac." So, _volens, nolens_, old Cormac seized his harp, and
thus began, accompanying his instrument with the following verses:--
May plenty, peace, long bless the isle
Where pity's tear can woe beguile!
Erin! the nations envy thee,
From scorpion, snake, and viper free;
Thy sacred saint's high potency!
Where beauty with Hygeia dwells,
Fell Discord flies these happy dells;
Where plaintive thrills thy island lyre,
Where kindling glows the social fire;
And jocund Hymen crowns the scene,
While pipes the shepherd's tuneful reed,
From his straw cottage on the mead,
And smiles each valley green!
Cormac sung the foregoing simple lines in order that he might be
entitled to call upon old Donald; who now being left without an
apology, and endeavouring to recollect a song, after a short pause the
Scottish minstrel struck his harp, and thus began:--
I THOUGHT ON DISTANT HAME!
Ah! while I saftly tuned my sang,
The hawthorn's hoary bloom amang,
I thought on friends I lov'd sae lang;
I thought on distant hame!
I thought on those I lov'd when young,
Of those wha died the wars amang,
Of those for whom the knell had rang,
Far frae their happy home!
I thought of those on foreign shore,
Beneath the tempest's dreadful roar,
Wha sank frae waves to rise nae mo',
To hail their distant hame!
I thought on the auld parent's smart,
Sorrowing his anely bairn to part,
Whase face nae mair shall cheer his heart,
Nor joy the parent's hame!
I thought on the hapless maiden's woe,
Her true-love doom'd to see nae mo',
Her reason tint beneath the blow,
And desolate her hame!
Then through this warld where e'er I stray,
In winter's gloam, or simmer's ray;
I'll sigh for a' wha far awa'
Like me regret their hame!
Donald received applause upon the conclusion of his pathetic song;
who, in return, bowed low and respectfully to the company. Here the
minstrels tuned their pipes with a refreshing draught of Innishowen and
water, of which commixture the first ingredient was, doubtless, the
most predominant.
It now came to Cormac's turn to strike his harp. When about to proceed
the duke observed: "I fear, old friend Cormac, that it now waxes late,
and we shall not have much time for any lengthened production, for you
are aware that when the great hall-clock shall strike the ninth hour
we proceed to supper. This rule at our castle is as peremptory and
inviolable as the ancient laws of the Medes and Persians; so remember,
good Cormac!"
"Never fear, your Grace's honour, I shall not fail to obey you."
Then turning to Lady Adelaide Bruce, he said: "I will sing the loves
of Sir Trystan and the beautiful Isoud! they were young and noble;
they were likewise comely too, lovely lady: but they were unfortunate
in their loves. Grant, O heaven, that such a fate may never betide the
Lady Adelaide or Sir David!" He then commenced--
THE ROMAUNT
OF SIR TRYSTAN AND LA BELLE ISOUD.
Arouse thee, old Cormac! recite the fond tale
Of Isoud La Belle of renowned Innisfail,[3]
Beauty's bright paragon; of chivalry tell
Sir Trystan the valiant, and Isoud La Belle.
A daughter of Erin, of Aöngus proud king
No story more noble a minstrel might sing!
Let the pioba[4] and harp triumphantly tell
Of Trystan the valiant and Isoud La Belle!
Aloud to fair Christendom, in numbers proclaim,
With voice of the trumpet, the chosen of fame!
Nor ever be _Arthur_ the noble forgot!
The prince and his friend, who _were_, and _are not_!
For long since, with valour and chivalry crown'd,
A tomb piled by heroes these heroes have found;
Not envy, malice, nor time, shall be able
To shadow a chief of Arthur's round table!
O long shall the lily,[5] the ivy, and bay,
Frame a wreath round the hero, the pride of his day;
And now bursting forth from cearment and gloom,
Once more shall the victor arise from his tomb.
He comes, the proud chieftain, to Cornwall's steep coast,
Sir Trystan the valiant, high chivalry's boast;
The friend of Prince Arthur descended in line
From heroes whose glory 'tis his to enshrine:
Still nobly look up to their banner so proud,
The forfeit, dishonour, disgrace, and the shroud!
'Aye, ever his honour Sir Trystan shall cherish,
When it shall be lost his wish is to perish!
And shrink mid the ignoble, worthless, and dead,
When the halo of glory shall wane on his head!'
[Footnote 3: Innisfail is one of the ancient names of Ireland;--it
means the isle of fate or destiny. It was so called from possessing
an ancient stone chair, on which was sculptured in Gaelic,
Or fate is false, or where this stone shall be
The Scots shall reign a powerful monarchy.
It was afterwards removed to Scotland, and subsequently to England.
It is now placed under the coronation chair in Westminster Abbey.]
[Footnote 4: Mala-pioba--the bagpipes. The late Mr. Cooper Walker
in his "Historical Memoirs of the Irish Bards," in a note at
foot of page 81, speaking on the subject of the Irish bagpipes,
(which, by the way, are played upon by the finger, and not like
the Scotch pipes, which are played by the lips,) he makes the
following remark:--"I have been informed that George II. was so
much delighted with the performance of an Irish gentleman on the
bagpipes, that he ordered a medal to be struck for him."]
[Footnote 5: Sir Trystrem was entitled to the lily, being a royal
son of France; he was designated Sir Trystrem of Lyons. He was
nephew to Mark, king of Cornwall. His name really was _Tristrem_,
but we suppose, for sake of euphony, old Cormac thought he was
privileged to change it.]
* * * * *
Just at the conclusion of the above, to the horror, confusion, and
surprise of old Cormac, the German clock in the baronial hall chimed
musically forth the ninth hour. But it was no music to the ear of
Cormac, who in dumb despair somewhat sullenly laid down his harp,
knowing that remonstrance would not be heard, and that solicitation was
all in vain. But the duke was loud in his commendations, in which he
was duly echoed by his guests, and Cormac was assured that the company
should certainly be gratified upon the succeeding night, and at an
earlier hour, with the remainder of the Romaunt of Trystan and Isoud.
The company now descended to the great supper-room, where a most superb
banquet was spread for the noble guests. The wassail-bowl was duly
and meetly placed in the centre of the table upon a magnificent gold
plateau. The bowl was decorated with artificial flowers, festoons of
"true-lover's knots," "rose-buds," "heart's-ease," "forget me not," and
the bow and arrow of Cupid were not omitted.
"The spiced wassail-bowl,"[6] duly impregnated with love philtres,
was composed of Muscadel,[7] principally, in which, _inter alia_,
the following ingredients were mixed in this mystic beverage: namely,
angelica, adianthum, eggs, eringo, orchis, &c. The concoction was
made with great caution, measure, and propriety, according to the
_avoirdupois_ weight, as duly laid down in the family receipt book.
The bride and bridegroom, of course, were the first to quaff from this
charmed potion, and then those who chose to follow their example.
[Footnote 6: "The spiced wassail-bowl."--See Fletcher's "Faithful
Shepherdess," act V. p. 108. Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, vol.
IV. The efficacy of love philtres was credited from the days of
Pliny even down to the seventeenth century! See Sir Walter Scott's
"Sir Tristrem," p. 298; and also Beaumont and Fletcher, vol. III.
p. 459.]
[Footnote 7: Muscadel.--This species of wine was a common
ingredient in the wassail-bowls, which were peculiarly in favour at
Christmas.--_Note to "the Pilgrim," by Beaumont and Fletcher_, vol.
V. p. 429. Muscadel is likewise noticed in the same volume in the
play called "The Woman's Prize," p. 263.
"Sweet gentleman with muscadel."
Mr. Weber adds in a note, "This passage, perhaps, explains the
reason why wine was offered immediately after the marriage ceremony
to the bride and bridegroom generally before they left the church."
The following passage occurs in Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew:"
"After many ceremonies done,
He calls for _wine_. 'A health,' quoth he, as if
He had been abroad carousing to his mates
After a storm.---- Quaffed off the _muscadel_,
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face.]
The song, the jest, and the cup, detained the company until the
eleventh hour, a time in that primitive period which was considered
late; when mutually pleasing and pleased, the noble guests arose to
separate; and all retired to their respective chambers to repose,
pleased and delighted with the hospitalities of this happy and most
memorable day.