Peregrine's Progress

by Jeffery Farnol

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  THE NOBLE ART OF ORGAN-PLAYING

  Catching sight of me as I hurried towards him, Lord Wyvelstokeadvanced, a vigorous man despite his lameness and silvery hair.

  "Peregrine--who was it?" he enquired, slipping his hand within my armand glancing round the glade. "Who was it sang so divinely--can it be,is it--our Diana? But of course it is--"

  "Yes, sir," said I, wondering at his eagerness.

  "She has a peerless, a wonderful voice, but more--she sings with thatdivine intuition that is genius. I must speak with her--meantime, praypresent your friend."

  "This, sir, is my good and kind friend, Jeremy Jarvis; Jerry, hisLordship, the Earl of Wyvelstoke."

  The Earl bowed to the Tinker with his usual grave courtesy, and theTinker (albeit a little disquieted) knuckled sooty eyebrow and bobbedtousled head to the Earl, humbly respectful yet with a simple dignityall his own.

  "You seem very happily situated here," said his lordship, sweeping theshady dingle with his keen gaze.

  "Why, as to that, sir--my lord," said Jeremy with unwonted diffidence,"I fear we'm a-trespassing on your land, but my friend Todd--Jessamyassured me--"

  "Rest assured, friend Jarvis! None of my keepers shall disturb you--"

  "Peregrine--O Jerry, dinner! Come while it's hot and come quick!"called Diana from those boskages that screened our little camp.

  "It's liver and bacon," said she, busy at the fire, but beholding ourcompanion, she set down the frying pan and hastened to welcome himwith both hands outstretched.

  "Why, 't is my old pal!" she cried, whereupon Jeremy blinked andseemed to swallow hard.

  "You're just in time for a bit o' liver an' bacon. Bring anotherplate, Jerry."

  "But, Ann," said he, hesitating and much at a loss, "p'raps hislordship won't care t' eat off a tin plate an'--"

  "Who?" demanded Diana, turning, with the frying pan in her hand.

  "His lordship! What, don't ye know this gentleman's the Earl o'Wyvelstoke?" Diana set down the frying pan and turned upon hislordship with a frown.

  "Is this true?" she demanded. "Are you a lord?"

  "I am, Diana."

  "An earl?"

  "I confess it. But always your pal, I trust, notwithstanding--"

  "Why, then you own Wyvelstoke Park?"

  "I do."

  "And--this wood?"

  "Yes, Diana."

  "An' horses an' carriages an' houses, I suppose?"

  "Yes, child."

  "Why, then, you're rich! And you let me give you a guinea!"

  "A treasure dearer to me than all the rest!" he answered gently; andtaking out the coin he looked down at it, smiling wistfully.

  "And I thought you were such a poor, lonely old soul--"

  "So I was, Diana, and so I should be without your friendship."

  "I s'pose you don't want any liver an' bacon, do you, lord?"

  "Why not, goddess?"

  "Because lords an' earls don't eat liver an' bacon off tin plates, dothey?"

  "You behold one who would if you will so far honour him," answered theEarl with one of his stately obeisances.

  "You might have told me, all the same!" said Diana, pouting a little.

  "Dear child, had I done so would you have called me your old pal? Itis a title dearer to me than any other." Hereupon she brought him thethree-legged stool which, despite his protestations, she forced him totake. And so we began dinner, though often the Tinker would pause,food-laden jackknife in mid-air, to steal amazed and surreptitiousglances at his lordship, sitting serenely, the tin plate balanced onhis knees, eating with remarkable appetite and gusto.

  "D'ye like it, old pal?" questioned Diana suddenly.

  "Diana," answered the Ancient Person with his whimsical look, "wordsare sometimes poor and inadequate--I like it beyond expression."

  "That's because it's strange to you an' in the open air--"

  "Nay, child, I have eaten strange meals amid strange people instrange, wild places of the earth, but never such a meal as this."

  "D'ye mean foreign places--across the sea?" questioned Diana eagerly.

  "Yes, I have seen much of the wonders and glories of the world, vastydeserts, trackless forests, stupendous mountains, mighty rivers, andyet--and yet what more wonderful than this little island of ours, whatmore tenderly beautiful than our green, English countryside? Thethunderous roar of plunging cataracts, the cloud-capped pinnacles ofmighty mountains may fill the soul with awed and speechless wonder,but for pure joy give me an English coppice of a summer evening whenblackbird and thrush are calling, or to sit and hearken to theimmemorial music of a brook--Friend Jarvis, you write verses, Ibelieve?"

  "Lord, sir--my lord," answered Jeremy, his bronzed cheek flushing,"how should you know that?"

  "I learned the fact from Peregrine who spoke of them in such highpraise that I should much like to read some of them if you wouldsuffer me--"

  "Why, sir," stammered Jeremy, "they're wrote on such scraps an' bitso' paper, I only write 'em to please myself an'--an'--"

  "Because he must!" added Diana. "You see, old pal, Jerry writes poetrylike the birds sing and brooks flow, just because 't is his nature. Iknow lots of his verses by heart an' I love all of 'em, but I likethis about the Silent Places best; listen:

  "'He that the great, good thing would know Must to the Silent Places go, Leaving wealth and state behind Who the great good thing would find. Glories, honours, these will fade, Life itself's a phantom shade; But the soul of man--who knoweth Whence it came and where it goeth. So, God of Life, I pray of Thee Ears to hear and eyes to see. In bubbling brooks, in whispering wind He who hath ears shall voices find, Telling the wonder of the earth: The awful miracle of birth; Of love and joy, of Life and Death, Of things that were ere we had breath; Of man's soul through the ages growing, Whence it comes or whither going, That soul of God, a deathless spark Unquenched through ages wild and dark, Up-struggling through the age-long night Through glooms and sorrows, to the light. The soul that marches, age to age, On slow and painful pilgrimage Till man through tears and strife and pain Shall thus his Godhead find again. Of such, the wind in lonely tree The murmurous brook, doth tell to me. These are the wonders ye may know Who to the Silent Places go; Who these with reverent foot hath trod May meet his soul and walk with God.'"

  "Friend Jarvis," said the Ancient Person, setting down his emptyplatter and beginning to fill his pipe, "Peregrine was exactly right;you are a most astonishing tinker. You, sir, are a poet as I am amusician,--by a natural predisposition; and your poetry is true as ismy music because it is simple; for what is Truth but Simplicity, thatwhich touches the soul, the heart, the emotions rather than the cold,reasoning intellect, since poetry, but more especially music, is adirect appeal to and expression of, the emotion? Do you agree?"

  "Why, sir," answered the Tinker, shaking his head a little sadly, "Idon't know aught about music, d'ye see--"

  "Fiddlestick, man! You are full of music. Who has not heard leavesrustle in the wind, or listened to the babble of a brook; yet to themajority they are no more than what they seem--rustling leaves, ababbling brook--but to you and me these are an inspiration, voices ofNature, of God, of the Infinite, urging us to an attempt to expressthe inexpressible--is it not so?"

  "Why, my lord," quoth the Tinker, chafing blue chin with knife-handle,"since you put it that way I--I fancy--"

  "Of course you do!" nodded his lordship. "Take yonder stream: to youit finds a voice to speak of the immemorial past; to me it is theelemental music of God. As it sings to-day so has it sung to countlessgenerations and mayhap, in earth's dim days, taught some wildman-monster to echo something of its melody and thus perchance cameour first music. What do you think?"

  "'Tis a wonderful thought, sir, but I should think birds would beeasier to imitate than a brook--"

  "Possibly, yes. But man's first lyrical music was undoubtedly animitation of the voices of nature. And what is music after all but aninfi
nite speech unbounded by fettering words, an auricular presentmentof the otherwise indescribable, for what words may fully reveal allthe wonder of Life, the awful majesty of Death? But music can anddoes. By music we may hold converse with the Infinite. Out of the dustcame man, out of suffering his soul and from his soul--music. Youapprehend me, friend Jarvis?"

  "Here an' there, my lord. I--I mean," stammered the Tinker, a littleat a loss, "I understand enough to wish I could hear some realmusic--but music ain't much in a tinker's line--"

  "You shall!" exclaimed his lordship, rising suddenly. "I will play toyou, and after, Diana shall bless us with the glory of her voice ifshe will. Your arm, Tinker. Leave your irons and hammers awhile andcome with me--let us go. Your arm, friend Jarvis!"

  "But, sir--my clothes, my lord!" gasped Jeremy. "I ain't fit--"

  "A fiddlestick!" quoth his lordship. "Give me your arm, pray." Solimping thus beside the Tinker, the Earl of Wyvelstoke led us alongbeside the brook until we presently reached a grassy ride. Here hepaused and, taking a small gold whistle that hung about his neck, blewa shrill blast, whereupon ensued the sound of wheels and creakingharness, and a phaeton appeared driven by a man in handsome liverywho, touching smart hat to his shabby master, brought the vehicle to ahalt, into which we mounted forthwith and away we drove. Soon beforeus rose stately parapet, battlement and turret above the green oftrees ancient like itself, a mighty structure, its frowning grimnesssoftened by years. Diana viewed massive wall and tower with eyes ofdelighted wonder, then suddenly turned to clasp the hand of theslender, shabby figure beside her.

  "Poor old soul, no wonder you were lonely!" she sighed, whereupon theEarl smiled a little wistfully and stooped to kiss her sunburntfingers in his stately fashion.

  The carriage stopping, behold the sedate Atkinson (who manifested notthe least surprise at our incongruous appearance) a square-shouldered,square-faced person he, whose features wore an air of resolution,notwithstanding his soft voice and deferential ways.

  At a word from the Earl he ushered us in by a side entrance, through along and noble gallery, where stood many effigies in bright armour,backed by pictures of bewigged gentlemen who smirked or scowled uponus, and fair dames in ruff and farthingale who smiled, or ladiesbare-bosomed who ogled through artful ringlets; across panelled roomsand arras-hung chambers, to lofty and spacious hall, with a great,many-piped organ at one end. Here his lordship made us welcome with asimple and easy courtesy, himself setting chairs for Diana and theTinker.

  "Sit ye, friend Jarvis," said he, "and if you care to smoke, pray doso, you will find tobacco in the jar on the cabinet yonder. As foryou, my goddess of the Silent Places, yonder comes my admirable valetwith fruit and sweetmeats for your delectation; you, Peregrine, haveDiana beside you. Listen now, and you shall hear the joy of Life andYouth and Self-sacrifice. Blow, Atkinson!" So saying, he crossed thewide hall and seated himself at the great instrument.

  I saw his white fingers busy among the many stops, then his slim handsfell upon the keys and forth gushed a torrent of sweet sound, a pealof triumphant joy that thrilled me; great, rolling chords beneath andthrough which rippled an ecstasy of silvery notes, whose magicconjured to my imagination a dew-spangled morning joyous with sun andthrilling with the glad song of birds new-waked,--a green and goldenworld wherein one sped to meet me, white arms outstretched in love,one herself as fresh and sweet as the morning.

  But now the organ notes changed, the pealing rapture sank into asighing melody inexpressibly sweet and softly tender, my vision'ssmiling lips quivered to drooping sadness, the bright eyes grew dimmedwith tears; and hearkening to the tender passion of this melody, fullof poignant yearning and fond regret, I knew that here was parting andfarewell. And lo! She, my Spirit of Love, was gone, and I alone in adesolate wilderness to grieve and wait, to strive and hope throughweary length of days. And listening to these soft, plaintive notes, Ibowed my head with eyes brimful of burning tears and heart full ofsudden, chilling dread of the future, and glancing furtively towardsDiana's beautiful, enraptured face, I clenched my fists and prayeddesperate, wordless supplications against any such parting orfarewell. And then, in this moment, grief and fear and heart-breakwere lost, forgotten, swept utterly away as the wailing, tender noteswere 'whelmed in the triumphant melody that pealed forth, louder, moresublimely joyous than ever. She was back, within my arms, upon myheart, but a greater, nobler She, mine for ever and the world allglorious about us.

  The rapture ended suddenly on a note of triumph, and Diana, leaning tome, was looking at me through glistening tears, our hands met andclung and never a word between us; then we glanced up to meet theAncient Person's keen, smiling glance and his voice was gentle when hespoke.

  "God bless you, children! Then hearing, you saw and understood? Notrue love can be that knows nothing of pain, for pain ennobles loveand teaches self-sacrifice and this surely is the noblest good of all.And now, friend Jarvis, I will endeavour to show you something of thesoul's upward pilgrimage, the working out of man's salvation aspictured in your verse."

  He turned back to the organ and from its quivering pipes rose a seriesof noble chords, stately and solemn, a hymn-like measure, rolling inawful majesty, shattered all at once by a wild confusion of screamingdiscords that yet gradually resolved into a wailing melody ofpassionate despair beneath which I seemed to hear the relentless trampof countless marching feet with, ever and anon, a far, faint echo ofthat first grand and stately motive.

  And as I listened it seemed I watched the age-old struggle betweenmight and right, the horrors of man's persecution of man, the agoniesof flaming cities, of Death and Shame, of dungeon and torment. Iseemed to hear the thunder of conflicting hosts, the groans of dyingmartyrs, to sense all the sweat and blood, the agony and travail ofthese long and bitter years wherein man wrought and strove throughtears and tribulation, onward and up to nobler ideals, working out hisown salvation and redemption from his baser self. Suddenly, above thiswild and rushing melody, rose a single dulcet voice, soft yetpatiently insistent, oft repeated with many variations, like someangel singing a promise of better things to come,--a voice which, asthe wailing tumult died, swelled to a chorus of rejoicing, louder andlouder, resolving back into that majestic hymn-like measure, butsoaring now in joyous triumph, rising, deepening to an ecstasy ofpraise.

  And then I was staring at the slender, shabby figure who sat, hands onknees, glancing down into the Tinker's awed face.

  "Well, friend Jarvis?" he questioned, with his kindly smile.

  "Ah, sir!" cried the Tinker. "Music can surely say more than wordsever will."

  "O Peregrine!" sighed Diana under her breath, "has it told you how Ilove you--all those things that I can never tell you?" And then shewas away, to seat herself upon the organ-bench beside our host, whilehe explained something of the wonders of the noble instrument, itspedals, stops and triple rank of keys.

  "Lord, Peregrine!" said the Tinker in my ear. "This is a day toremember, this is a--my soul!" he exclaimed and fell suddenly mute asa gorgeous person in powder and silk stockings entered, bearing teaupon a silver tray; a somewhat nervous and high-strung person heseemed, for catching sudden vision of the grimy Tinker's shock headand my shirt sleeves, his protuberant eyes took on a glassy look, hegulped audibly, his knees bent and he set down his burden with ajingling crash.

  The Earl turned sharply; the footman began setting out the tea things.

  "I've never seen an organ close to before," said Diana, "though I'veoften stopped outside a church to listen."

  The footman's hands grew vague, his glassy eyes turned themselves uponJeremy in fascinated horror, beneath which disdainful scrutiny Jeremyflushed, uneasily conscious of work-grimed hands and clothes.

  "Of course I shan't mind singing to you," said Diana, "because you aremy old pal."

  The footman dropped a plate; stooping for this, he brought down threeor four spoons and forks in his agitation.

  "Atkinson!"

  "My lord!" answered Atkinson, appearing suddenly.


  "What is this?" demanded his lordship, fixing the gorgeous person withterrible eye.

  "The third footman, I believe, my lord."

  "Send him out--he annoys me."

  The gorgeous person having taken himself off, Jeremy sighed in hugerelief but glanced furtively askance from dainty china and snowy linento his own grimy hands and smirched garments; perceiving whichembarrassment the Earl hastened to set him at his ease:

  "John Bunyan was a tinker also, friend Jarvis," said he, as we drew tothe table. And a cheery meal we made of it, for what with hislordship's tactful, easy courtesy and Diana's serene unconsciousness,who could worry over such trifles as grimy hands or shirt sleeves; andif the Tinker be-jammed his fingers or Diana drank from her saucer,she did it with such assured grace as charmed me, and when hislordship followed her example, I loved him for the courtly gentlemanhe was.

  "You have studied and thought deeply, I think, friend Jarvis?" saidhis lordship. "You reverence books?"

  "Aye, sir--my lord. I used to peddle 'em once, but I read more than Iever sold."

  "Ah, yes," said Diana; "'t was our good, kind Jerry taught me how toread and write when I lived wi' the Folk."

  "And what of your parents, child?"

  "I only remember old Azor."

  "But you are not of the Zingari, I think?"

  "I don't know, old pal--and what's it matter--O Jerry, the shin o'beef!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Jessamy's back by this andit ought to be in the pot. So if you want me to sing--"

  "We do!" said his lordship, and rising he brought her to the organ;there, standing beside him while he played a hushed accompaniment, shesang, at my suggestion, that same wild gipsy air which had so stirredme once before in the wood. But to-day, confined within thesesurrounding walls, her voice seemed to me even more glorious, sosoftly pure and plaintively sweet, anon soaring in trillingecstasy--until the swelling glory sank, languished to a sigh and wasgone; and I for one lost in awed wonder and delight. For to-day shesang with all that tender, unaffected sweetness, all that passionateintensity that was part of her strange self.

  "Diana," said his lordship gravely, "God has entrusted you with agreat and beneficent power; you have a rare and wonderful voice suchas might stir mankind to loftier thought and nobler ideal and thusmake the world a better place. Child, how will you acquit yourself ofthis responsibility? Will you make the most of your great gift, usingit for the benefit of countless others, or let it atrophy and perishunheard--?"

  "Perish?" exclaimed Diana, opening her eyes very wide. "Old pal, whatdo you mean?"

  "I mean, Diana, that every one of the gifts that nature has lavishedupon us--speech, sight, thought, motion--would all become atrophiedand fail us utterly without use. The more we think and the more variedour thoughts, the greater our intellect; he that would win a race mustexercise his muscles constantly, and this is especially true in regardto singing. Have you no thought, no will to become a great singer,Diana?"

  "Yes," she answered softly, "I might ha' liked it once, but--notnow--because, you see, I've found a--better thing, old pal, andnothing else matters!"

  "Child," he questioned gently, "may I be privileged to know what thisbetter thing may be?"

  "Yes--yes!" she answered, stooping to catch his hand in her sweet,impulsive way and fondle it to her soft check.

  "Love has come to us--Peregrine and me, he--knows at last, though Ithink you had guessed already because you played our love into yourmusic, better--oh, better than I can ever tell it. Only it's here inmy heart and in the sunshine; the birds sing of it and--and--oh, howcan I think of anything else?"

  The Ancient Person laid gentle hand upon her glossy hair. "Wait, dearchild, and Love, I think, shall open to you a nobler living, shallgive you pinions to soar awhile--"

  "How--what d'ye mean, old pal?"

  "Nay, ask Peregrine," answered his lordship, shaking his head. "Onlyvery sure am I that love which is true and everlasting is infinitelyunselfish."

  And presently we took our leave, the Earl attending to see us into thephaeton and bid us adieu; and all the way back I must needs ponder hisdefinition of love and wonder exactly what he had meant.