by Thomas Hardy
CHAPTER IV: THE INTERVIEW WITH THE VICAR
At six o'clock the next day, the whole body of men in the choir emergedfrom the tranter's door, and advanced with a firm step down the lane.This dignity of march gradually became obliterated as they went on, andby the time they reached the hill behind the vicarage a faint resemblanceto a flock of sheep might have been discerned in the venerable party. Aword from the tranter, however, set them right again; and as theydescended the hill, the regular tramp, tramp, tramp of the united feetwas clearly audible from the vicarage garden. At the opening of the gatethere was another short interval of irregular shuffling, caused by arather peculiar habit the gate had, when swung open quickly, of strikingagainst the bank and slamming back into the opener's face.
"Now keep step again, will ye?" said the tranter. "It looks better, andmore becomes the high class of arrant which has brought us here." Thusthey advanced to the door.
At Reuben's ring the more modest of the group turned aside, adjustedtheir hats, and looked critically at any shrub that happened to lie inthe line of vision endeavouring thus to give a person who chanced tolook out of the windows the impression that their request, whatever itwas going to be, was rather a casual thought occurring whilst they wereinspecting the vicar's shrubbery and grass-plot than a predeterminedthing. The tranter, who, coming frequently to the vicarage with luggage,coals, firewood, etc., had none of the awe for its precincts that filledthe breasts of most of the others, fixed his eyes firmly on the knockerduring this interval of waiting. The knocker having no characteristicworthy of notice, he relinquished it for a knot in one of thedoor-panels, and studied the winding lines of the grain.
"O, sir, please, here's Tranter Dewy, and old William Dewy, and youngRichard Dewy, O, and all the quire too, sir, except the boys, a-come tosee you!" said Mr. Maybold's maid-servant to Mr. Maybold, the pupils ofher eyes dilating like circles in a pond.
"All the choir?" said the astonished vicar (who may be shortly describedas a good-looking young man with courageous eyes, timid mouth, andneutral nose), abandoning his writing and looking at his parlour-maidafter speaking, like a man who fancied he had seen her face before butcouldn't recollect where.
"And they looks very firm, and Tranter Dewy do turn neither to the righthand nor to the left, but stares quite straight and solemn with his mindmade up!"
"O, all the choir," repeated the vicar to himself, trying by that simpledevice to trot out his thoughts on what the choir could come for.
"Yes; every man-jack of 'em, as I be alive!" (The parlour-maid wasrather local in manner, having in fact been raised in the same village.)"Really, sir, 'tis thoughted by many in town and country that--"
"Town and country!--Heavens, I had no idea that I was public property inthis way!" said the vicar, his face acquiring a hue somewhere betweenthat of the rose and the peony. "Well, 'It is thought in town andcountry that--'"
"It is thought that you be going to get it hot and strong!--excusen myincivility, sir."
The vicar suddenly recalled to his recollection that he had long agosettled it to be decidedly a mistake to encourage his servant Jane ingiving personal opinions. The servant Jane saw by the vicar's face thathe recalled this fact to his mind; and removing her forehead from theedge of the door, and rubbing away the indent that edge had made,vanished into the passage as Mr. Maybold remarked, "Show them in, Jane."
A few minutes later a shuffling and jostling (reduced to as refined aform as was compatible with the nature of shuffles and jostles) was heardin the passage; then an earnest and prolonged wiping of shoes, conveyingthe notion that volumes of mud had to be removed; but the roads being soclean that not a particle of dirt appeared on the choir's boots (those ofall the elder members being newly oiled, and Dick's brightly polished),this wiping might have been set down simply as a desire to show thatrespectable men had no wish to take a mean advantage of clean roads forcurtailing proper ceremonies. Next there came a powerful whisper fromthe same quarter:-
"Now stand stock-still there, my sonnies, one and all! And don't make nonoise; and keep your backs close to the wall, that company may pass inand out easy if they want to without squeezing through ye: and we two areenough to go in." . . . The voice was the tranter's.
"I wish I could go in too and see the sight!" said a reedy voice--that ofLeaf.
"'Tis a pity Leaf is so terrible silly, or else he might," said another.
"I never in my life seed a quire go into a study to have it out about theplaying and singing," pleaded Leaf; "and I should like to see it justonce!"
"Very well; we'll let en come in," said the tranter. "You'll be likechips in porridge, {1} Leaf--neither good nor hurt. All right, my sonny,come along;" and immediately himself, old William, and Leaf appeared inthe room.
"We took the liberty to come and see 'ee, sir," said Reuben, letting hishat hang in his left hand, and touching with his right the brim of animaginary one on his head. "We've come to see 'ee, sir, man and man, andno offence, I hope?"
"None at all," said Mr. Maybold.
"This old aged man standing by my side is father; William Dewy by name,sir."
"Yes; I see it is," said the vicar, nodding aside to old William, whosmiled.
"I thought you mightn't know en without his bass-viol," the tranterapologized. "You see, he always wears his best clothes and his bass-viola-Sundays, and it do make such a difference in a' old man's look."
"And who's that young man?" the vicar said.
"Tell the pa'son yer name," said the tranter, turning to Leaf, who stoodwith his elbows nailed back to a bookcase.
"Please, Thomas Leaf, your holiness!" said Leaf, trembling.
"I hope you'll excuse his looks being so very thin," continued thetranter deprecatingly, turning to the vicar again. "But 'tisn't hisfault, poor feller. He's rather silly by nature, and could never getfat; though he's a' excellent treble, and so we keep him on."
"I never had no head, sir," said Leaf, eagerly grasping at thisopportunity for being forgiven his existence.
"Ah, poor young man!" said Mr. Maybold.
"Bless you, he don't mind it a bit, if you don't, sir," said the tranterassuringly. "Do ye, Leaf?"
"Not I--not a morsel--hee, hee! I was afeard it mightn't please yourholiness, sir, that's all."
The tranter, finding Leaf get on so very well through his negativequalities, was tempted in a fit of generosity to advance him stillhigher, by giving him credit for positive ones. "He's very clever for asilly chap, good-now, sir. You never knowed a young feller keep hissmock-frocks so clane; very honest too. His ghastly looks is all thereis against en, poor feller; but we can't help our looks, you know, sir."
"True: we cannot. You live with your mother, I think, Leaf?"
The tranter looked at Leaf to express that the most friendly assistant tohis tongue could do no more for him now, and that he must be left to hisown resources.
"Yes, sir: a widder, sir. Ah, if brother Jim had lived she'd have had aclever son to keep her without work!"
"Indeed! poor woman. Give her this half-crown. I'll call and see yourmother."
"Say, 'Thank you, sir,'" the tranter whispered imperatively towards Leaf.
"Thank you, sir!" said Leaf.
"That's it, then; sit down, Leaf," said Mr. Maybold.
"Y-yes, sir!"
The tranter cleared his throat after this accidental parenthesis aboutLeaf, rectified his bodily position, and began his speech.
"Mr. Mayble," he said, "I hope you'll excuse my common way, but I alwayslike to look things in the face."
Reuben made a point of fixing this sentence in the vicar's mind by gazinghard at him at the conclusion of it, and then out of the window.
Mr. Maybold and old William looked in the same direction, apparentlyunder the impression that the things' faces alluded to were therevisible.
"What I have been thinking"--the tranter implied by this use of the pasttense that he was hardly so discourteous as to be positively thinking itthen
--"is that the quire ought to be gie'd a little time, and not doneaway wi' till Christmas, as a fair thing between man and man. And, Mr.Mayble, I hope you'll excuse my common way?"
"I will, I will. Till Christmas," the vicar murmured, stretching the twowords to a great length, as if the distance to Christmas might bemeasured in that way. "Well, I want you all to understand that I have nopersonal fault to find, and that I don't wish to change the church musicby forcible means, or in a way which should hurt the feelings of anyparishioners. Why I have at last spoken definitely on the subject isthat a player has been brought under--I may say pressed upon--my noticeseveral times by one of the churchwardens. And as the organ I broughtwith me is here waiting" (pointing to a cabinet-organ standing in thestudy), "there is no reason for longer delay."
"We made a mistake I suppose then, sir? But we understood the youngwoman didn't want to play particularly?" The tranter arranged hiscountenance to signify that he did not want to be inquisitive in theleast.
"No, nor did she. Nor did I definitely wish her to just yet; for yourplaying is very good. But, as I said, one of the churchwardens has beenso anxious for a change, that, as matters stand, I couldn't consistentlyrefuse my consent."
Now for some reason or other, the vicar at this point seemed to have anidea that he had prevaricated; and as an honest vicar, it was a thing hedetermined not to do. He corrected himself, blushing as he did so,though why he should blush was not known to Reuben.
"Understand me rightly," he said: "the church-warden proposed it to me,but I had thought myself of getting--Miss Day to play."
"Which churchwarden might that be who proposed her, sir?--excusing mycommon way." The tranter intimated by his tone that, so far from beinginquisitive, he did not even wish to ask a single question.
"Mr. Shiner, I believe."
"Clk, my sonny!--beg your pardon, sir, that's only a form of words ofmine, and slipped out accidental--he nourishes enmity against us for somereason or another; perhaps because we played rather hard upon enChristmas night. Anyhow 'tis certain sure that Mr. Shiner's real lovefor music of a particular kind isn't his reason. He've no more ear thanthat chair. But let that be."
"I don't think you should conclude that, because Mr. Shiner wants adifferent music, he has any ill-feeling for you. I myself, I must own,prefer organ-music to any other. I consider it most proper, and feeljustified in endeavouring to introduce it; but then, although other musicis better, I don't say yours is not good."
"Well then, Mr. Mayble, since death's to be, we'll die like men any dayyou name (excusing my common way)."
Mr. Maybold bowed his head.
"All we thought was, that for us old ancient singers to be choked offquiet at no time in particular, as now, in the Sundays after Easter,would seem rather mean in the eyes of other parishes, sir. But if wefell glorious with a bit of a flourish at Christmas, we should have arespectable end, and not dwindle away at some nameless paltrysecond-Sunday-after or Sunday-next-before something, that's got no nameof his own."
"Yes, yes, that's reasonable; I own it's reasonable."
"You see, Mr. Mayble, we've got--do I keep you inconvenient long, sir?"
"No, no."
"We've got our feelings--father there especially."
The tranter, in his earnestness, had advanced his person to within sixinches of the vicar's.
"Certainly, certainly!" said Mr. Maybold, retreating a little forconvenience of seeing. "You are all enthusiastic on the subject, and Iam all the more gratified to find you so. A Laodicean lukewarmness isworse than wrongheadedness itself."
"Exactly, sir. In fact now, Mr. Mayble," Reuben continued, moreimpressively, and advancing a little closer still to the vicar, "fatherthere is a perfect figure o' wonder, in the way of being fond of music!"
The vicar drew back a little further, the tranter suddenly also standingback a foot or two, to throw open the view of his father, and pointing tohim at the same time.
Old William moved uneasily in the large chair, and with a minute smile onthe mere edge of his lips, for good-manners, said he was indeed very fondof tunes.
"Now, you see exactly how it is," Reuben continued, appealing to Mr.Maybold's sense of justice by looking sideways into his eyes. The vicarseemed to see how it was so well that the gratified tranter walked up tohim again with even vehement eagerness, so that his waistcoat-buttonsalmost rubbed against the vicar's as he continued: "As to father, if youor I, or any man or woman of the present generation, at the time music isa-playing, was to shake your fist in father's face, as may be this way,and say, 'Don't you be delighted with that music!'"--the tranter wentback to where Leaf was sitting, and held his fist so close to Leaf's facethat the latter pressed his head back against the wall: "All right, Leaf,my sonny, I won't hurt you; 'tis just to show my meaning to Mr.Mayble.--As I was saying, if you or I, or any man, was to shake your fistin father's face this way, and say, 'William, your life or your music!'he'd say, 'My life!' Now that's father's nature all over; and you see,sir, it must hurt the feelings of a man of that kind for him and his bass-viol to be done away wi' neck and crop."
The tranter went back to the vicar's front and again looked earnestly athis face.
"True, true, Dewy," Mr. Maybold answered, trying to withdraw his head andshoulders without moving his feet; but finding this impracticable, edgingback another inch. These frequent retreats had at last jammed Mr.Maybold between his easy-chair and the edge of the table.
And at the moment of the announcement of the choir, Mr. Maybold had justre-dipped the pen he was using; at their entry, instead of wiping it, hehad laid it on the table with the nib overhanging. At the last retreathis coat-tails came in contact with the pen, and down it rolled, firstagainst the back of the chair, thence turning a summersault into theseat, thence falling to the floor with a rattle.
The vicar stooped for his pen, and the tranter, wishing to show that,however great their ecclesiastical differences, his mind was not so smallas to let this affect his social feelings, stooped also.
"And have you anything else you want to explain to me, Dewy?" said Mr.Maybold from under the table.
"Nothing, sir. And, Mr. Mayble, you be not offended? I hope you see ourdesire is reason?" said the tranter from under the chair.
"Quite, quite; and I shouldn't think of refusing to listen to such areasonable request," the vicar replied. Seeing that Reuben had securedthe pen, he resumed his vertical position, and added, "You know, Dewy, itis often said how difficult a matter it is to act up to our convictionsand please all parties. It may be said with equal truth, that it isdifficult for a man of any appreciativeness to have convictions at all.Now in my case, I see right in you, and right in Shiner. I see thatviolins are good, and that an organ is good; and when we introduce theorgan, it will not be that fiddles were bad, but that an organ wasbetter. That you'll clearly understand, Dewy?"
"I will; and thank you very much for such feelings, sir. Piph-h-h-h! Howthe blood do get into my head, to be sure, whenever I quat down likethat!" said Reuben, who having also risen to his feet stuck the penvertically in the inkstand and almost through the bottom, that it mightnot roll down again under any circumstances whatever.
Now the ancient body of minstrels in the passage felt their curiositysurging higher and higher as the minutes passed. Dick, not having muchaffection for this errand, soon grew tired, and went away in thedirection of the school. Yet their sense of propriety would probablyhave restrained them from any attempt to discover what was going on inthe study had not the vicar's pen fallen to the floor. The convictionthat the movement of chairs, etc., necessitated by the search, could onlyhave been caused by the catastrophe of a bloody fight beginning,overpowered all other considerations; and they advanced to the door,which had only just fallen to. Thus, when Mr. Maybold raised his eyesafter the stooping he beheld glaring through the door Mr. Penny in full-length portraiture, Mail's face and shoulders above Mr. Penny's head,Spinks's forehead and eyes over Mail's crown, and a fractio
nal part ofBowman's countenance under Spinks's arm--crescent-shaped portions ofother heads and faces being visible behind these--the whole dozen and oddeyes bristling with eager inquiry.
Mr. Penny, as is the case with excitable boot-makers and men, seeing thevicar look at him and hearing no word spoken, thought it incumbent uponhimself to say something of any kind. Nothing suggested itself till hehad looked for about half a minute at the vicar.
"You'll excuse my naming of it, sir," he said, regarding with muchcommiseration the mere surface of the vicar's face; "but perhaps youdon't know that your chin have bust out a-bleeding where you cut yourselfa-shaving this morning, sir."
"Now, that was the stooping, depend upon't," the tranter suggested, alsolooking with much interest at the vicar's chin. "Blood always will bustout again if you hang down the member that's been bleeding."
Old William raised his eyes and watched the vicar's bleeding chinlikewise; and Leaf advanced two or three paces from the bookcase,absorbed in the contemplation of the same phenomenon, with parted lipsand delighted eyes.
"Dear me, dear me!" said Mr. Maybold hastily, looking very red, andbrushing his chin with his hand, then taking out his handkerchief andwiping the place.
"That's it, sir; all right again now, 'a b'lieve--a mere nothing," saidMr. Penny. "A little bit of fur off your hat will stop it in a minute ifit should bust out again."
"I'll let 'ee have a bit off mine," said Reuben, to show his goodfeeling; "my hat isn't so new as yours, sir, and 'twon't hurt mine abit."
"No, no; thank you, thank you," Mr. Maybold again nervously replied.
"'Twas rather a deep cut seemingly?" said Reuben, feeling these to be thekindest and best remarks he could make.
"O, no; not particularly."
"Well, sir, your hand will shake sometimes a-shaving, and just when itcomes into your head that you may cut yourself, there's the blood."
"I have been revolving in my mind that question of the time at which wemake the change," said Mr. Maybold, "and I know you'll meet me half-way.I think Christmas-day as much too late for me as the present time is tooearly for you. I suggest Michaelmas or thereabout as a convenient timefor both parties; for I think your objection to a Sunday which has noname is not one of any real weight."
"Very good, sir. I suppose mortal men mustn't expect their own wayentirely; and I express in all our names that we'll make shift and besatisfied with what you say." The tranter touched the brim of hisimaginary hat again, and all the choir did the same. "About Michaelmas,then, as far as you are concerned, sir, and then we make room for thenext generation."
"About Michaelmas," said the vicar.