The Violin

by Lindsay Pritchard

  Maundy’s father, half-bowing, thanked Dr Prince effusively, who brushed away his gratitude and addressed Maundy.

  “You will come the first Monday after Christmas. My assistant will find you some modest lodgings locally. Your responsibilities will include Sunday services and ceremonials and whatever commissions I am asked to fulfil. You must immerse yourself in music and practise and learn assiduously. If there should be any breath of indiscipline, arrogance, indolence or other misdemeanour, you will be obliged to quit my school forthwith and your father will be responsible for repayment of your fees. Those are my rules. Do I make myself clear?”

  The young Maundy, a compliant and biddable child, confirmed that he heeded the words well and promised to learn faithfully and loyally.

  By early January, 1728, Maundy was installed in lodgings in 27 Alfred Street near Windsor, with a matronly widow called Bessie Spinner, sharing a bedroom with two young choristers. Weekdays were given over to theory and practice, whilst at weekends he played the organ or violin in the Chapel orchestra at services, weddings and funerals. Under the stern but benign tutelage of Dr Prince, Maundy was a bright, willing and very talented student.

  *

  In May of 1733, there was an occurrence that was to change his life. A visiting violin virtuoso from Florence by the name of Francesco Veracini was invited to play a selection of his own sonatas at the chapel. Veracini was a gifted composer as well as a performer and it was rumoured the Maestro, Handel, had been present at an opera composed by Veracini in the Haymarket Theatre. It had been said that he was mightily impressed by the young Veracini, a heavyweight seal of approval for the young musician’s talent.

  Along with Dr Prince and his alumni, a small group of courtiers, minor aristocracy and well-to-do merchants had been assembled. Patronage of the arts was the coming thing in keeping with the inclinations and artistic sensitivities of the court of King George II.

  From the first note, Maundy was transfixed. Never before had he heard such melodiousness from a violin. The upper register remained pure and clear; the lower register, sonorous and profound. The perfection of the tone, trill, vibrato and sostenuto made him say, under his breath, “Truly, this must be how the angels play.”

  Soaring, golden-toned, mellifluous, the violin almost spoke to him. His body trembled like a tuning fork. At one particular passage he felt close to tears. At the end of the performance he sat, unable to move for a while as polite applause rippled around the room. A combination of the beauty of the music and the perfection of the tone of the violin persuaded him to make a resolution. He would practise from dawn until nightfall if only to be able to reproduce a tenth of that sound. This must be a perfect collaboration of God and man. God put the music in the head of man and the talent in his fingers. Man made the instrument from natural materials provided by God.

  A beautiful circle of perfection.

  The following day, still hearing the echoes of the music in his head, he had asked Dr Prince about the virtuoso and particularly the provenance of Veracini’s violin.

  “It was undoubtedly an instrument from the school of Cremona. There are families there, the Amati, the Guarneri, the Stradivari, who have perfected their art and have secrets that they keep. There are those of the English school who have attempted to take apart one of these instruments to understand how they can make such a transcendent noise, but it is like dissecting a body and hoping to understand what it is that makes a man unique.

  “Violin making is like entering the gates of heaven; many are called but few are chosen. Perhaps the German Stainer may hold a candle to them but there must be something in the music of the trees and the waters of Lombardy which is built into their violins.”

  From that day, Maundy knew his path in life. He would make himself as good a violinist as God and practice would allow, and he vowed not to rest until he could replicate that pure, sweet, mellow sound that had so moved him in listening to Veracini.

  CHAPTER THREE

  As a man of wealth and status, Sir Alfred intended to make Leeward House a centre of exquisite taste and aristocratic social interaction. In order to achieve this Elysian vision, it required Lady Patience, through a hierarchy of servants and a foundation of unquestioning discipline, to ensure the untroubled functioning of the Big House.

  As with many religious zealots, her interpretation of the natural order of things was, she believed, God-given. Cleanliness, obedience, rectitude, hard work and strict morality were the minimum requirements for her, as defined by the Scriptures. Her position of authority had been predestined. This was how she rationalised her good fortune when, as ordinary Patience Topham, the only daughter of an undertaker and pharmacist in Southwark, she had caught the eye of Alfred Pinfold. He was then but a penniless adventurer with an eye for a chance.

  Now, potentate of all she surveyed, she ran the household with glacial efficiency, underpinned by a moral code as given by God but as mediated through herself. Infringements of any household standards, or of the many rules or sub-rules, would attract discipline. This included thrashing for boyish miscreants, removal of privileges for the maids and scullery girls, up to dismissal without references for particularly heinous offences such as insubordination, pilfering or immorality.

  Sir Alfred, of course, did not see the workings of the machine. As long as the vista from the Long Room was pleasing, the port decanter remained filled and his boots properly polished, he enjoyed his gladsome retirement.

  Benevolent patronage was bestowed on artists, musicians, writers, poets and sculptors who would be invited to soirees at the mansion in order to entertain and amuse any guests at Leeward House of the correct social pedigree.

  At these gatherings, Sir Alfred was wont to display Underman as evidence, should it be needed, of his philanthropic credentials.

  “He may be black but he has been schooled in the English way. I bought him as a savage in Africa, y’know. Civilised him and gave him the baton of authority. He made me a lot of money. Least I could do was find him a place in the household back here. Good man. Sound in wind, limb and brain. Excellent for a negro.”

  True to his word, Sir Alfred had also found a situation for Joshua. Barely ten years old on his arrival in 1735, he had been immediately set to work under the Head Gardener, Shuttleworth. Joshua had been given particular responsibility for vegetables and herbs and, after an initial apprenticeship, he was expected to ensure a plentiful fresh supply of seasonal produce for the home kitchen, daily. The open-faced, handsome, dark-skinned, cheeky, blue-eyed boy also charmed everyone. Prone to easy open laughter like his mother, hard-working, quick-witted, and trustworthy like his father, he had become the darling of the house. Now, nearly fifteen years old, his body had become lithe from his work, and his pleasing demeanour attracted many admirers.

  Mrs Nowell, matriarch of the kitchens, said, “Well he may be a piccaninny but he knocks all the local boys into a cocked hat, that’s for sure. And such a good boy. A bit cheeky but never an ounce of real trouble. I bet his father is proud of him.”

  Joshua also delighted with his musical talents. An Irish itinerant had left him with a small kit violin in exchange for a few days’ bed and board. He had taught Joshua the rudiments of bowing the tiny violin and he had learnt to play jigs, airs and favourites by ear. He would enliven Saturday evening mealtime when the Master and his Lady had been seen to and the servants would relax, drink and dance.

  Joshua worked hard for his keep and basic lodgings in one of the stable outbuildings. His regimen was six days of work from first light to early evening with time off on a Saturday afternoon and Sunday, once he had attended church in the village.

  From his earliest days at Leeward House, Joshua had made common cause with Millie, the daughter of the garden architect, James Pilgrim. Millie had matured into a very pretty, lively girl, and she found in Joshua a playmate of exactly the same age and disposition. On his time off they would
play. Sometimes it would be Battledore or Devil on Two Sticks. On more energetic days there would be skipping, hoops or hopscotch or kites, and endless hours could be wasted playing ducks and drakes or dandelion clocks. Many was the time they would wander past the formal gardens to the woodlands and the ponds where they were free of adult interference and injunction. Joshua would often take the kit violin with him and serenade Millie with her favourite tunes.

  Whilst Joshua was always the son of Underman, a slave, Millie’s parents liked the boy, and indulged her by allowing the friendship to flourish. Sometimes he would even take pastries in their kitchen before the two of them would race away on some wild caprice.

  *

  In the summer of 1739, an unusually hot spell settled over southern England. Days would begin with flawlessly deep blue skies and sharp shadows. By late morning billow upon billow of stationary cloud piled up in the hazy distance. In Leeward House, the dogs slept, shaded from the midday heat and burning sun. The milk quickly turned sour if left and the residents and staff stayed indoors, finding cool spots near flagged floors or cellar rooms.

  During these still, sweltering days with the heat haze hanging heavy over distant London, Millie and Joshua often strayed down to the ponds and glades, away from the main house and garden. There was a world of wild profusion, celandine, meadowsweet, saxifrage, dappled copses and cool, clear water surrounded by all the live hum of a still summer’s day. One day, too hot for strenuous games, they lay on the mossy bank of their favourite shallow pond dangling their feet in the water. Millie busied herself with a daisy chain whilst Joshua threw twigs into the water and watched the ripples, virtually the only movement in the breathless afternoon.

  Now both nearly fifteen years old, they were changing from girl and boy to woman and man, although they had little knowledge of the changes and the reasons why. Joshua had perceived that Millie was assuming a more rounded silhouette. Millie noted that Joshua’s voice had deepened, there was hair on his forearm and his back was broader.

  “Watch out for boys who might want to take advantage of you and make sure you keep yourself tidy,” Millie’s mother advised her, sternly.

  Joshua had had no formal instruction of any sort in the facts of life and was merely a bemused spectator at the ribaldry of the stable lads.

  “I’ve never been so hot Josh. It feels like all the air has gone. What I would give to jump into that pond,” said Millie, a touch vexedly.

  “Well hitch up your skirts and wade in. That will cool your ardour,” he replied, laughingly.

  Millie frowned a pretty frown.

  “No, I mean really jump in and have the water over my head and hair. Unless I do I swear I might faint. Won’t you just look away for a minute?”

  Joshua laughed again.

  “If that is your wish, then I will study these hollyhocks over here very carefully whilst you bathe.”

  He lay on his side as Millie stepped out of her dress, petticoat and bloomers until, completely naked, she slipped into the pellucid water and gasped at the transition from the sticky heat of the sultry afternoon to the cool, clean chill on her skin.

  Her body became accustomed to the temperature and she dipped her body and paddled her hands, enjoying the freshness of the sensations.

  “You should come in!” she shouted at Joshua. “There is really nothing so wonderful this side of heaven!”

  “Well, I am really content over here with my hollyhocks so cool down young Millie. Then you will need to dry off in the sun so I shall take a walk over to the pond with the fountain over by the summer house.”

  Millie pursed her lips then, in a fit of devilment, splashed two full armfuls of water over the recumbent Joshua.

  He jumped to his feet, spluttering and biting back the curses.

  “Wha— what did you do that for?” he complained, brushing the water off his shirt and breeches.

  “I though you needed cooling off too,” said Millie archly, kneeling half-submerged in the water.

  “Now I will study the hollyhocks whilst you take off your clothes. Come into the water and cool yourself down!”

  He did as she suggested, slipping naked into the cool embrace of the water as she dawdled and flitted in the shallows on the other side of the pond.

  “You were right,” said Joshua, catching his breath slightly at the unaccustomed chill. “I feel as if I’ve stepped from a furnace into an ice room.”

  He floated on his back watching the high noon sun filtering through the tree branches. Seeing her chance, Millie splashed a wave of water over his face.

  “Why you… you little fiend!” shouted Joshua, immediately on his feet and running in slow motion through the water, chasing her to the other side of the pond.

  “For two pins I would…”

  They mock-wrestled in the shallows, the taller, broader, well-muscled boy holding back from overpowering her as they caused a commotion in the water. Eventually, breathing heavily, they stopped with their hands locked above the water. Time froze for a moment then Millie said, coquettishly, “Well, now, for causing me so much trouble you must carry me back across the pool.”

  Turning him round she hitched her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She rested her head on his shoulder as, silently, he did as he was told. In that moment something changed between them; the children became man and woman. As they reached the other side, Millie looked Joshua full in the eye.

  “And now you must take me back the other way.”

  She faced him and hitched her legs around his waist. Their naked bodies rubbed together as Joshua walked slowly backwards. Feeling his heart beating hard he stopped in the middle of the pond. Millie inclined her head towards him and kissed him full on the mouth.

  Then a primeval urge overtook them both as they manoeuvred their bodies until he plunged inside her. The swells of the water rippled outwards in concentric circles as they surged in unison. Millie clasped his neck and tautened her belly and thighs. Joshua thrust with primitive instinct until he gave several short gasps and shuddered for a few seconds.

  Both, unaware of exactly what had occurred, made their way back to the bank and lay there in silence as the sun dried them.

  “Are we allowed to do that?” enquired Joshua softly after a while.

  “I am not quite so sure what we have done,” said Millie, “but it felt as if it had to be done.

  We’d better not say anything. Promise me you won’t tell anybody about this?”

  Joshua agreed thoroughly. Clothed again and with the sun now sinking through the trees, they made their way, wordlessly, back to the Big House aware that their relationship and the world had changed irrevocably.

  *

  That summer of 1739 was a long, hot, gloriously sultry summer. The two returned again and again to their secret place.

  “This must mean that you have to marry me,” Millie suggested one evening as they lay entwined by their pond.

  Joshua’s brow darkened.

  “You know my father is a black man, a slave. That makes me a slave too. They won’t let you marry the likes of me.”

  “Well, I might have something to say about that,” said Millie, combatively. “They have me lined up with that Jabez, from the stables.”

  Jabez was the son of the Head Groom, expected in time to be elevated to the same status. He was, however, a slow-witted, hulking boy with a permanently open mouth, dirty spatulate fingers and little interest in conversation other than the needs and habits of his charges.

  “He always smells… of horses,” Millie shuddered. “But,” she traced a finger thoughtfully down the side of his face, “you do love me Josh, don’t you? Tell me. Because if we love each other, they will understand. I’ve read it – ‘Love Conquers All’ – so, what does it matter if we’re different?”

  Joshua turned and smiled at her and wrapped her in a broad e
mbrace.

  “Course I love you. There is no one else for me,” he said, comfortingly. But privately his doubts remained.

  *

  At Michaelmas, there were excited preparations for the annual staff dance. Lady Patience reasoned, as with her husband and his scientific approach to slave productivity, that a little gaiety and licence just once in a while, although not too much, kept the staff happy and efficient. As long as it did not get out of hand and they all remembered their place.

  Mrs Pilgrim, Millie’s mother, had been able to purchase a small bolt of red satin cloth to make a dress for her daughter to wear.

  Millie stood on a stool in a mannequin pose as her mother pinned it up. With pins in her mouth, she adjusted the top of the dress over Millie’s bosom.

  “My, you are becoming a proper little woman, Millie!” Then, noticing that Millie’s waist appeared to have noticeably thickened, Amy Pilgrim stepped back, appraised her daughter, started to speak then stopped, looking at Millie quizzically. The gay mood had dissipated.

  “Millie, is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Millie frowned and shook her curls.

  “No Mother, I don’t think so. What do you mean?”

  “Have you been with a man? I hope you are not going to disgrace the family!”

  “How could I do that? What do you mean?” asked Millie, uncomprehendingly.

  Amy sat her daughter down and briefly explained the facts of reproduction. With gathering alarm, Millie began to realise what had happened between herself and Joshua.

  “Have you had your monthly indispositions?” questioned Amy.

  Millie thought about it, her eyes looking wildly right and left. It was true; there had been none but she had not noticed. She looked at her mother aghast who was now in an anxious temper.

  “Who is it? Who has done this to my daughter? Oh the shame! Is it one of the footmen? Have you been free with anyone? Surely not Jabez?”