and acknowledged the existence of a prejudice of the kind, not merely
confined to modern times, but prevalent likewise among the ancients. In
confirmation of this, he quoted a passage from Ovid, which had a great
effect on Lady Lillycraft, being given in a language which she did not
understand. Even Master Simon was staggered by it; for he listened with
a puzzled air, and then, shaking his head, sagaciously observed that
Ovid was certainly a very wise man.
From this sage conference I likewise gathered several other important
pieces of information relative to weddings; such as that if two were
celebrated in the same church on the same day, the first would be happy,
the second unfortunate. If, on going to church, the bridal party should
meet the funeral of a female, it was an omen that the bride would die
first; if of a male, the bridegroom. If the newly-married couple were to
dance together on their wedding-day, the wife would thenceforth rule the
roast; with many other curious and unquestionable facts of the same
nature, all which made me ponder more than ever upon the perils which
surround this happy state, and the thoughtless ignorance of mortals as
to the awful risks they run in entering upon it. I abstain, however,
from enlarging upon this topic, having no inclination to promote the
increase of bachelors.
Notwithstanding the due weight which the squire gives to traditional
saws and ancient opinions, yet I am happy to find that he makes a firm
stand for the credit of this loving month, and brings to his aid a whole
legion of poetical authorities; all which, I presume, have been
conclusive with the young couple, as I understand they are perfectly
willing to marry in May, and abide the consequences. In a few days,
therefore, the wedding is to take place, and the Hall is in a buzz of
anticipation. The housekeeper is bustling about from morning till night,
with a look full of business and importance, having a thousand
arrangements to make, the squire intending to keep open house on the
occasion; and as to the housemaids, you cannot look one of them in the
face, but the rogue begins to colour up and simper.
While, however, this leading love affair is going on with a tranquillity
quite inconsistent with the rules of romance, I cannot say that the
under-plots are equally propitious. The "opening bud of love" between
the general and Lady Lillycraft seems to have experienced some blight in
the course of this genial season. I do not think the general has ever
been able to retrieve the ground he lost when he fell asleep during the
captain's story. Indeed, Master Simon thinks his case is completely
desperate, her ladyship having determined that he is quite destitute of
sentiment.
The season has been equally unpropitious to the love-lorn Phoebe
Wilkins. I fear the reader will be impatient at having this humble amour
so often alluded to; but I confess I am apt to take a great interest in
the love troubles of simple girls of this class. Few people have an idea
of the world of care and perplexity that these poor damsels have in
managing the affairs of the heart.
We talk and write about the tender passion; we give it all the
colourings of sentiment and romance, and lay the scene of its influence
in high life; but, after all, I doubt whether its sway is not more
absolute among females of a humbler sphere. How often, could we but look
into the heart, should we find the sentiment throbbing in all its
violence, in the bosom of the poor lady's maid, rather than in that of
the brilliant beauty she is decking out for conquest; whose brain is
probably bewildered with beaux, ball-rooms, and wax-light chandeliers.
With these humble beings love is an honest, engrossing concern. They
have no ideas of settlements, establishments, equipages, and pin-money.
The heart--the heart--is all-in-all with them, poor things! There is
seldom one of them but has her love cares, and love secrets; her doubts,
and hopes, and fears, equal to those of any heroine of romance, and ten
times as sincere. And then, too, there is her secret hoard of love
documents;--the broken sixpence, the gilded brooch, the lock of hair,
the unintelligible love scrawl, all treasured up in her box of Sunday
finery, for private contemplation.
[Illustration: Love Documents]
How many crosses and trials is she exposed to from some lynx-eyed dame,
or staid old vestal of a mistress, who keeps a dragon watch over her
virtue, and scouts the lover from the door! But then how sweet are the
little love scenes, snatched at distant intervals of holiday, fondly
dwelt on through many a long day of household labour and confinement! If
in the country, it is the dance at the fair or wake, the interview in
the churchyard after service, or the evening stroll in the green lane.
If in town, it is perhaps merely a stolen moment of delicious talk
between the bars of the area, fearful every instant of being seen; and
then, how lightly will the simple creature carol all day afterwards at
her labour!
Poor baggage! after all her crosses and difficulties, when she marries,
what is it but to exchange a life of comparative ease and comfort for
one of toil and uncertainty? Perhaps, too, the lover, for whom, in the
fondness of her nature, she has committed herself to fortune's freaks,
turns out a worthless churl, the dissolute, hard-hearted husband of low
life; who, taking to the alehouse, leaves her to a cheerless home, to
labour, penury, and child-bearing.
When I see poor Phoebe going about with drooping eye, and her head
hanging "all o' one side," I cannot help calling to mind the pathetic
little picture drawn by Desdemona:--
"My mother had a maid, called Barbara;
She was in love; and he she loved proved mad
And did forsake her; she had a song of willow,
An old thing 'twas; but it expressed her fortune,
And she died singing it."
I hope, however, that a better lot is in reserve for Phoebe Wilkins, and
that she may yet "rule the roast," in the ancient empire of the
Tibbetses! She is not fit to battle with hard hearts or hard times. She
was, I am told, the pet of her poor mother, who was proud of the beauty
of her child, and brought her up more tenderly than a village girl ought
to be; and ever since she has been left an orphan, the good ladies at
the Hall have completed the softening and spoiling of her.
[Illustration: Slingsby and Phoebe]
I have recently observed her holding long conferences in the churchyard,
and up and down one of the lanes near the village, with Slingsby the
schoolmaster. I at first thought the pedagogue might be touched with the
tender malady so prevalent in these parts of late; but I did him
injustice. Honest Slingsby, it seems, was a friend and crony of her late
father, the parish clerk; and is on intimate terms with the Tibbets
family. Prompted, therefore, by his good-will towards all parties, and
secretly instigated, perhaps, by the managing dame Tibbets, he has
undertaken to talk with Phoebe upon the subject. He gives her, however,
but little encouragement. Slingsby has a formidable opinion of the
aristocratical feeling of old Ready-Money, and thinks, if Phoebe were
even to make the matter up with the son, she would find the father
totally hostile to the match. The poor damsel, therefore, is reduced
almost to despair; and Slingsby, who is too good-natured not to
sympathise in her distress, has advised her to give up all thoughts of
young Jack, and has promised as a substitute his learned coadjutor, the
prodigal son. He has even, in the fulness of his heart, offered to give
up the school-house to them, though it would leave him once more adrift
in the wide world.
[Illustration: Butler with Bride Cup]
THE WEDDING.
No more, no more, much honour aye betide
The lofty bridegroom, and the lovely bride;
That all of their succeeding days may say,
Each day appears like to a wedding day.
BRAITHWAITE.
Notwithstanding the doubts and demurs of Lady Lillycraft, and all the
grave objections that were conjured up against the month of May, yet the
Wedding has at length happily taken place. It was celebrated at the
village church in presence of a numerous company of relatives and
friends, and many of the tenantry. The squire must needs have something
of the old ceremonies observed on the occasion; so at the gate of the
churchyard, several little girls of the village, dressed in white, were
in readiness with baskets of flowers, which they strewed before the
bride; and the butler bore before her the bride-cup, a great silver
embossed bowl, one of the family reliques from the days of the hard
drinkers. This was filled with rich wine, and decorated with a branch of
rosemary, tied with gay ribands, according to ancient custom.
"Happy is the bride that the sun shines on," says the old proverb; and
it was as sunny and auspicious a morning as heart could wish. The bride
looked uncommonly beautiful; but, in fact, what woman does not look
interesting on her wedding-day? I know no sight more charming and
touching than that of a young and timid bride, in her robes of virgin
white, led up trembling to the altar. When I thus behold a lovely girl,
in the tenderness of her years, forsaking the house of her fathers and
the home of her childhood, and, with the implicit, confiding, and the
sweet self-abandonment which belong to woman, giving up all the world
for the man of her choice; when I hear her, in the good old language of
the ritual, yielding herself to him "for better for worse, for richer
for poorer, in sickness and in health; to love, honour, and obey, till
death us do part," it brings to my mind the beautiful and affecting
self-devotion of Ruth:--"Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou
lodgest I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my
God."
The fair Julia was supported on the trying occasion by Lady Lillycraft,
whose heart was overflowing with its wonted sympathy in all matters of
love and matrimony. As the bride approached the altar, her face would be
one moment covered with blushes, and the next deadly pale; and she
seemed almost ready to shrink from sight among her female companions.
I do not know what it is that makes every one serious, and, as, it were,
awestruck at a marriage ceremony, which is generally considered as an
occasion of festivity and rejoicing. As the ceremony was performing, I
observed many a rosy face among the country girls turn pale, and I did
not see a smile throughout the church. The young ladies from the Hall
were almost as much frightened as if it had been their own case, and
stole many a look of sympathy at their trembling companion. A tear stood
in the eye of the sensitive Lady Lillycraft; and as to Phoebe Wilkins,
who was present, she absolutely wept and sobbed aloud; but it is hard to
tell half the time what these fond, foolish creatures are crying about.
The captain, too, though naturally gay and unconcerned, was much
agitated on the occasion, and, in attempting to put the ring upon the
bride's finger, dropped it on the floor; which Lady Lillycraft has since
assured me is a very lucky omen. Even Master Simon had lost his usual
vivacity, and had assumed a most whimsically solemn face, which he is
apt to do on all occasions of ceremony. He had much whispering with the
parson and parish-clerk, for he is always a busy personage in the scene;
and he echoed the clerk's amen with a solemnity and devotion that
edified the whole assemblage.
The moment, however, that the ceremony was over, the transition was
magical. The bride-cup was passed round, according to ancient usage, for
the company to drink to a happy union; every one's feelings seemed to
break forth from restraint. Master Simon had a world of bachelor
pleasantries to utter, and as to the gallant general, he bowed and
cooed about the dulcet Lady Lillycraft, like a mighty cock pigeon about
his dame.
[Illustration: The Wedding]
The villagers gathered in the churchyard to cheer the happy couple as
they left the church; and the musical tailor had marshalled his band,
and set up a hideous discord, as the blushing and smiling bride passed
through a lane of honest peasantry to her carriage. The children shouted
and threw up their hats; the bells rung a merry peal that set all the
crows and rooks flying and cawing about the air, and threatened to bring
down the battlements of the old tower; and there was a continual popping
off of rusty firelocks from every part of the neighbourhood.
The prodigal son distinguished himself on the occasion, having hoisted a
flag on the top of the school-house, and kept the village in a hubbub
from sunrise with the sound of drum, and fife, and pandean pipe; in
which species of music several of his scholars are making wonderful
proficiency. In his great zeal, however, he had nearly done mischief;
for, on returning from church, the horses of the bride's carriage took
fright from the discharge of a row of old gun-barrels, which he had
mounted as a park of artillery in front of the school-house, to give
the captain a military salute as he passed.
[Illustration: Rural Artillery]
The day passed off with great rustic rejoicings. Tables were spread
under the trees in the park, where all the peasantry of the
neighbourhood were regaled with roast beef and plum-pudding, and oceans
of ale. Ready-Money Jack presided at one of the tables, and became so
full of good cheer, as to unbend from his usual gravity, to sing a song
out of all tune, and give two or three shouts of laughter, that almost
electrified his neighbours, like so many peals of thunder. The
schoolmaster and the apothecary vied with each other in making speeches
over their liquor; and there were occasional glees and musical
performances by the village band, that must have frightened every faun
and dryad from the park. Even old Christy, who had got on a new dress,
from top to toe, and shone in all the splendour of bright leather
breeches, and an enormous wedding favour in his cap, forgot his usual
crustiness, became inspired by wine and wassail, and absolutely danced a
hornpipe on one of the tables, with all the grace and agility of a
mannikin hung upon wires.
Equal gaiety reigned within doors, where a large party of friends were
entertained. Every one laughed at his own pleasantry, without attending
to that of his neighbours. Loads of bride-cake were distributed. The
young ladies were all busy in passing morsels of it through the wedding
ring to dream on, and I myself assisted a fine little boarding-school
girl in putting up a quantity for her companions, which I have no doubt
will set all the little heads in the school gadding, for a week at
least.
After dinner all the company, great and small, gentle and simple,
abandoned themselves to the dance: not the modern quadrille, with its
graceful gravity, but the merry, social, old country dance; the true
dance, as the squire says, for a wedding occasion; as it sets all the
world jigging in couples; hand in hand, and makes every eye and every
heart dance merrily to the music. According to frank old usage, the
gentlefolks of the Hall mingled, for a time, in the dance of the
peasantry, who had a great tent erected for a ball-room; and I think I
never saw Master Simon more in his element than when figuring about
among his rustic admirers, as master of the ceremonies; and, with a
mingled air of protection and gallantry, leading out the quondam Queen
of May--all blushing at the signal honour conferred upon her.
[Illustration: Master Simon Opens the Ball]
In the evening, the whole village was illuminated, excepting the house
of the radical, who has not shown his face during the rejoicings. There
was a display of fireworks at the school-house, got up by the prodigal
son, which had wellnigh set fire to the building. The squire is so much
pleased with the extraordinary services of this last-mentioned worthy,
that he talks of enrolling him in his list of valuable retainers, and
promoting him to some important post on the estate; peradventure to be
falconer, if the hawks can ever be brought into proper training.
There is a well-known old proverb that says, "one wedding makes
many"--or something to the same purpose; and I should not be surprised
if it holds good in the present instance. I have seen several
flirtations among the young people that have been brought together on
this occasion; and a great deal of strolling about in pairs, among the
retired walks and blossoming shrubberies of the old garden; and if
groves were really given to whispering, as poets would fain make us
believe, Heaven knows what love-tales the grave-looking old trees about
this venerable country-seat might blab to the world. The general, too,
has waxed very zealous in his devotions within the last few days, as the
time of her ladyship's departure approaches. I observed him casting many
a tender look at her during the wedding dinner, while the courses were
changing; though he was always liable to be interrupted in his adoration
by the appearance of any new delicacy. The general, in fact, has arrived
at that time of life when the heart and the stomach maintain a kind of
balance of power; and when a man is apt to be perplexed in his
affections between a fine woman and a truffled turkey. Her ladyship was
certainly rivalled through the whole of the first course by a dish of
stewed carp; and there was one glance, which was evidently intended to
be a point-blank shot at her heart, and could scarcely have failed to
effect a practicable breach, had it not unluckily been diverted away to
a tempting breast of lamb, in which it immediately produced a formidable
incision.
Thus did the faithless general go on, coquetting during the whole
dinner, and committing an infidelity with every new dish; until, in the
end, he was so overpowered by the attentions he had paid to fish, flesh,
and fowl; to pastry, jelly, cream, and blancmange, that he seemed to
sink within himself: his eyes swam beneath their lids, and their fire
was so much slackened, that he could no longer discharge a single glance
that would reach across the table. Upon the whole, I fear the general
ate himself into as much disgrace, at this memorable dinner, as I have
seen him sleep himself into on a former occasion.
I am told, moreover, that young Jack Tibbets was so touched by the
wedding ceremony, at which he was present, and so captivated by the
sensibility of poor Phoebe Wilkins, who certainly looked all the better
for her tears, that he had a reconciliation with her that very day,
after dinner, in one of the groves of the park, and danced with her in
the evening; to the complete confusion of all Dame Tibbets' domestic
politics. I met them walking together in the park, shortly after the
reconciliation must have taken place. Young Jack carried himself gaily
and manfully; but Phoebe hung her head, blushing, as I approached.
However, just as she passed me, and dropped a curtsy, I caught a shy
gleam of her eye from under her bonnet; but it was immediately cast
down again. I saw enough in that single gleam, and in the involuntary
smile that dimpled about her rosy lips, to feel satisfied that the
little gipsy's heart was happy again.
[Illustration: Reconciliation]
What is more, Lady Lillycraft, with her usual benevolence and zeal in
all matters of this tender nature, on hearing of the reconciliation of
the lovers, undertook the critical task of breaking the matter to
Ready-Money Jack. She thought there was no time like the present, and
attacked the sturdy old yeoman that very evening in the park, while his
heart was yet lifted up with the squire's good cheer. Jack was a little
surprised at being drawn aside by her ladyship, but was not to be
flurried by such an honour: he was still more surprised by the nature of
her communication, and by this first intelligence of an affair that had
been passing under his eye. He listened, however, with his usual
gravity, as her ladyship represented the advantages of the match, the
good qualities of the girl, and the distress which she had lately
suffered; at length his eye began to kindle, and his hand to play with
the head of his cudgel. Lady Lillycraft saw that something in the
narrative had gone wrong, and hastened to mollify his rising ire by
reiterating the soft-hearted Phoebe's merit and fidelity, and her great
unhappiness, when old Ready-Money suddenly interrupted her by
exclaiming, that if Jack did not marry the wench, he'd break every bone
in his body! The match, therefore, is considered a settled thing; Dame
Tibbets and the housekeeper have made friends, and drank tea together;
and Phoebe has again recovered her good looks and good spirits, and is
carolling from morning till night like a lark.
But the most whimsical caprice of Cupid is one that I should be almost
afraid to mention, did I not know that I was writing for readers well
acquainted in the waywardness of this most mischievous deity. The
morning after the wedding, therefore, while Lady Lillycraft was making
preparations for her departure, an audience was requested by her
immaculate handmaid, Mrs. Hannah, who, with much priming of the mouth,
and many maidenly hesitations, requested leave to stay behind, and that
Lady Lillycraft would supply her place with some other servant. Her
ladyship was astonished: "What! Hannah going to quit her, that had lived
with her so long!"
"Why, one could not help it; one must settle in life some time or
other."
The good lady was still lost in amazement; at length the secret was
gasped from the dry lips of the maiden gentlewoman; she had been some
time thinking of changing her condition, and at length had given her
word, last evening, to Mr. Christy, the huntsman.
[Illustration: A Maiden Confession]
How, or when, or where this singular courtship had been carried on, I
have not been able to learn; nor how she has been able, with the vinegar
of her disposition, to soften the stony heart of old Nimrod; so,
however, it is, and it has astonished every one. With all her ladyship's
love of match-making, this last fume of Hymen's torch has been too much
for her. She has endeavoured to reason with Mrs. Hannah, but all in
vain; her mind was made up, and she grew tart on the least
contradiction. Lady Lillycraft applied to the squire for his
interference. "She did not know what she should do without Mrs. Hannah,
she had been used to have her about her so long a time."
The squire, on the contrary, rejoiced in the match, as relieving the
good lady from a kind of toilet-tyrant, under whose sway she had
suffered for years. Instead of thwarting the affair, therefore, he has
given it his full countenance; and declares that he will set up the
young couple in one of the best cottages on his estate. The approbation
of the squire has been followed by that of the whole household; they all
declare, that if ever matches are really made in heaven, this must have
been; for that old Christy and Mrs. Hannah were as evidently formed to
be linked together as ever were pepper-box and vinegar-cruet.
As soon as this matter was arranged, Lady Lillycraft took her leave of
the family at the Hall; taking with her the captain and his blushing
bride, who are to pass the honeymoon with her. Master Simon accompanied
them on horseback, and indeed means to ride on ahead to make
preparations. The general, who was fishing in vain for an invitation to
her seat, handed her ladyship into her carriage with a heavy sigh; upon
which his bosom friend, Master Simon, who was just mounting his horse,
gave me a knowing wink, made an abominably wry face, and, leaning from
his saddle, whispered loudly in my ear, "It won't do!" Then putting
spurs to his horse, away he cantered off. The general stood for some
time waving his hat after the carriage as it rolled down the avenue,
until he was seized with a fit of sneezing, from exposing his head to
the cool breeze. I observed that he returned rather thoughtfully to the
house; whistling thoughtfully to himself, with his hands behind his
back, and an exceedingly dubious air.