CHAPTER IV: GOING THE ROUNDS
Shortly after ten o'clock the singing-boys arrived at the tranter'shouse, which was invariably the place of meeting, and preparations weremade for the start. The older men and musicians wore thick coats, withstiff perpendicular collars, and coloured handkerchiefs wound round andround the neck till the end came to hand, over all which they just showedtheir ears and noses, like people looking over a wall. The remainder,stalwart ruddy men and boys, were dressed mainly in snow-whitesmock-frocks, embroidered upon the shoulders and breasts, in ornamentalforms of hearts, diamonds, and zigzags. The cider-mug was emptied forthe ninth time, the music-books were arranged, and the pieces finallydecided upon. The boys in the meantime put the old horn-lanterns inorder, cut candles into short lengths to fit the lanterns; and, a thinfleece of snow having fallen since the early part of the evening, thosewho had no leggings went to the stable and wound wisps of hay round theirankles to keep the insidious flakes from the interior of their boots.
Mellstock was a parish of considerable acreage, the hamlets composing itlying at a much greater distance from each other than is ordinarily thecase. Hence several hours were consumed in playing and singing withinhearing of every family, even if but a single air were bestowed on each.There was Lower Mellstock, the main village; half a mile from this werethe church and vicarage, and a few other houses, the spot being ratherlonely now, though in past centuries it had been the mostthickly-populated quarter of the parish. A mile north-east lay thehamlet of Upper Mellstock, where the tranter lived; and at other pointsknots of cottages, besides solitary farmsteads and dairies.
Old William Dewy, with the violoncello, played the bass; his grandsonDick the treble violin; and Reuben and Michael Mail the tenor and secondviolins respectively. The singers consisted of four men and seven boys,upon whom devolved the task of carrying and attending to the lanterns,and holding the books open for the players. Directly music was thetheme, old William ever and instinctively came to the front.
"Now mind, neighbours," he said, as they all went out one by one at thedoor, he himself holding it ajar and regarding them with a critical faceas they passed, like a shepherd counting out his sheep. "You two counter-boys, keep your ears open to Michael's fingering, and don't ye gostraying into the treble part along o' Dick and his set, as ye did lastyear; and mind this especially when we be in 'Arise, and hail.' BillyChimlen, don't you sing quite so raving mad as you fain would; and, allo' ye, whatever ye do, keep from making a great scuffle on the groundwhen we go in at people's gates; but go quietly, so as to strike up allof a sudden, like spirits."
"Farmer Ledlow's first?"
"Farmer Ledlow's first; the rest as usual."
"And, Voss," said the tranter terminatively, "you keep house here tillabout half-past two; then heat the metheglin and cider in the warmeryou'll find turned up upon the copper; and bring it wi' the victuals tochurch-hatch, as th'st know."
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Just before the clock struck twelve they lighted the lanterns andstarted. The moon, in her third quarter, had risen since the snowstorm;but the dense accumulation of snow-cloud weakened her power to a fainttwilight, which was rather pervasive of the landscape than traceable tothe sky. The breeze had gone down, and the rustle of their feet andtones of their speech echoed with an alert rebound from every post,boundary-stone, and ancient wall they passed, even where the distance ofthe echo's origin was less than a few yards. Beyond their own slightnoises nothing was to be heard, save the occasional bark of foxes in thedirection of Yalbury Wood, or the brush of a rabbit among the grass nowand then, as it scampered out of their way.
Most of the outlying homesteads and hamlets had been visited by about twoo'clock; they then passed across the outskirts of a wooded park towardthe main village, nobody being at home at the Manor. Pursuing norecognized track, great care was necessary in walking lest their facesshould come in contact with the low-hanging boughs of the old lime-trees,which in many spots formed dense over-growths of interlaced branches.
"Times have changed from the times they used to be," said Mail, regardingnobody can tell what interesting old panoramas with an inward eye, andletting his outward glance rest on the ground, because it was asconvenient a position as any. "People don't care much about us now! I'vebeen thinking we must be almost the last left in the county of the oldstring players? Barrel-organs, and the things next door to 'em that youblow wi' your foot, have come in terribly of late years."
"Ay!" said Bowman, shaking his head; and old William, on seeing him, didthe same thing.
"More's the pity," replied another. "Time was--long and merry agonow!--when not one of the varmits was to be heard of; but it served someof the quires right. They should have stuck to strings as we did, andkept out clarinets, and done away with serpents. If you'd thrive inmusical religion, stick to strings, says I."
"Strings be safe soul-lifters, as far as that do go," said Mr. Spinks.
"Yet there's worse things than serpents," said Mr. Penny. "Old thingspass away, 'tis true; but a serpent was a good old note: a deep rich notewas the serpent."
"Clar'nets, however, be bad at all times," said Michael Mail. "OneChristmas--years agone now, years--I went the rounds wi' the Weatherburyquire. 'Twas a hard frosty night, and the keys of all the clar'netsfroze--ah, they did freeze!--so that 'twas like drawing a cork every timea key was opened; and the players o' 'em had to go into ahedger-and-ditcher's chimley-corner, and thaw their clar'nets every nowand then. An icicle o' spet hung down from the end of every man'sclar'net a span long; and as to fingers--well, there, if ye'll believeme, we had no fingers at all, to our knowing."
"I can well bring back to my mind," said Mr. Penny, "what I said to poorJoseph Ryme (who took the treble part in Chalk-Newton Church for two-and-forty year) when they thought of having clar'nets there. 'Joseph,' Isaid, says I, 'depend upon't, if so be you have them tooting clar'netsyou'll spoil the whole set-out. Clar'nets were not made for the serviceof the Lard; you can see it by looking at 'em,' I said. And what cameo't? Why, souls, the parson set up a barrel-organ on his own accountwithin two years o' the time I spoke, and the old quire went to nothing."
"As far as look is concerned," said the tranter, "I don't for my part seethat a fiddle is much nearer heaven than a clar'net. 'Tis further off.There's always a rakish, scampish twist about a fiddle's looks that seemsto say the Wicked One had a hand in making o'en; while angels be supposedto play clar'nets in heaven, or som'at like 'em, if ye may believepicters."
"Robert Penny, you was in the right," broke in the eldest Dewy. "Theyshould ha' stuck to strings. Your brass-man is a rafting dog--well andgood; your reed-man is a dab at stirring ye--well and good; your drum-manis a rare bowel-shaker--good again. But I don't care who hears me sayit, nothing will spak to your heart wi' the sweetness o' the man ofstrings!"
"Strings for ever!" said little Jimmy.
"Strings alone would have held their ground against all the new comers increation." ("True, true!" said Bowman.) "But clarinets was death."("Death they was!" said Mr. Penny.) "And harmonions," William continuedin a louder voice, and getting excited by these signs of approval,"harmonions and barrel-organs" ("Ah!" and groans from Spinks) "bemiserable--what shall I call 'em?--miserable--"
"Sinners," suggested Jimmy, who made large strides like the men, and didnot lag behind like the other little boys.
"Miserable dumbledores!"
"Right, William, and so they be--miserable dumbledores!" said the choirwith unanimity.
By this time they were crossing to a gate in the direction of the school,which, standing on a slight eminence at the junction of three ways, nowrose in unvarying and dark flatness against the sky. The instrumentswere retuned, and all the band entered the school enclosure, enjoined byold William to keep upon the grass.
"Number seventy-eight," he softly gave out as they formed round in asemicircle, the boys opening the lanterns to get a clearer light, anddirecting their rays on the books.
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sp; Then passed forth into the quiet night an ancient and time-worn hymn,embodying a quaint Christianity in words orally transmitted from fatherto son through several generations down to the present characters, whosang them out right earnestly:
"Remember Adam's fall, O thou Man: Remember Adam's fall From Heaven to Hell. Remember Adam's fall; How he hath condemn'd all In Hell perpetual There for to dwell.
Remember God's goodnesse, O thou Man: Remember God's goodnesse, His promise made. Remember God's goodnesse; He sent His Son sinlesse Our ails for to redress; Be not afraid!
In Bethlehem He was born, O thou Man: In Bethlehem He was born, For mankind's sake. In Bethlehem He was born, Christmas-day i' the morn: Our Saviour thought no scorn Our faults to take.
Give thanks to God alway, O thou Man: Give thanks to God alway With heart-most joy. Give thanks to God alway On this our joyful day: Let all men sing and say, Holy, Holy!"
Having concluded the last note, they listened for a minute or two, butfound that no sound issued from the schoolhouse.
"Four breaths, and then, 'O, what unbounded goodness!' numberfifty-nine," said William.
This was duly gone through, and no notice whatever seemed to be taken ofthe performance.
"Good guide us, surely 'tisn't a' empty house, as befell us in the yearthirty-nine and forty-three!" said old Dewy.
"Perhaps she's jist come from some musical city, and sneers at ourdoings?" the tranter whispered.
"'Od rabbit her!" said Mr. Penny, with an annihilating look at a cornerof the school chimney, "I don't quite stomach her, if this is it. Yourplain music well done is as worthy as your other sort done bad, a'b'lieve, souls; so say I."
"Four breaths, and then the last," said the leader authoritatively."'Rejoice, ye Tenants of the Earth,' number sixty-four."
At the close, waiting yet another minute, he said in a clear loud voice,as he had said in the village at that hour and season for the previousforty years--"A merry Christmas to ye!"