Part 21 (1/2)
says Cissy, at which Clarissa laughs again; and then, the children getting impatient, they all go out to see the pigeons and the gardens, and stay lingering in the open air until afternoon tea is announced.
CHAPTER XIV.
”Where music dwells Lingering, and wandering on, as loath to die, Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof That they were born for immortality.”--WORDSWORTH.
The parish church of Pullingham is as naught in the eyes of the paris.h.i.+oners, in that it is devoid of an organ. No sweet sounds can be produced from the awful and terrifying instrument that for years has served to electrify the ears of those unfortunate enough to possess sittings in the church. It has at last failed!
One memorable Sunday it groaned aloud,--then squeaked mildly; cr--r--r--k went something in its inside; there was a final shriek, more weird than the former, and then all was still! How thankful should they have been for that! I believe they were truly and devoutly so, but love for the ”heavenly maid” still reigned in all their hearts, and with joy they hearkened to their vicar when he suggested the idea of a concert to be given for the purpose of raising funds wherewith to purchase a new organ, or, at least, to help to purchase it. The very thought was enough to raise high Jubilee within their musical hearts.
Now, the one good thing still belonging to Mrs. Redmond is the remains of what must once have been a very beautiful voice. With this she possesses the power of imparting to others her own knowledge of music,--a rather rare gift. With her own children, of course, she can do nothing; they are veritable dead-letters in her hands,--she being one of those women who spend their lives admonis.h.i.+ng and thrusting advice upon the world, yet find themselves unequal to the government of their own household. But with the village choir all is different; here she reigns supreme, and is made much of, for Pullingham is decidedly musical, and all its young men and all its young women either sing, or think they sing, or long after singing.
Tenors, sopranos, and ba.s.ses are to be met with round every corner; the very air is thick with them. The Pullinghamites _will_ sing, whether they can or not, with a go and a gusto that speaks well for their lungs, if a trifle trying to the listeners.
Vocal music being the thing held highest in favor in the Methodist chapel, where Mr. Leatham, the ”Methody” parson, holds unorthodox services, many were the seceders from the parish church to join the choir in the whitewashed chapel and shout the hymns of Moody and Sankey, just at the commencement of this story.
Such secessions went nigh to breaking Mr. Redmond's heart. The organ had failed him; it had wheezed, indeed, valiantly to the last, as though determined to die game; but a day had come, as I said, when it breathed its last sigh and the ancient bellows refused to produce another note.
What was to be done? The villagers should and would have music at any cost, and they never could be brought to see the enormity of wors.h.i.+pping in the whitewashed edifice that was, and is, as the temple of Belial in the eyes of their vicar.
It would take some time to procure funds for another and more satisfactory organ. In the mean time, the whilom choir was falling to pieces. The late organist had accepted a fresh and more lucrative post: there was literally no head to keep the members together. What was to be done?
In desperation, the vicar asked himself this, whilst looking vainly round for some one to help him drag back his flock from the vicious influence of the ”American songsters,” as he most irreverently termed Messrs. M. and S. And it was then, when he was at his wits' end, that Mrs. Redmond most unexpectedly came to the rescue. It was the first and the last time in her life she ever rose to the occasion: but this one solitary time she did it perfectly, and coming boldly to the front, carried all before her.
She would undertake a singing-cla.s.s; she would arrange, and teach, and keep together a choir that should reduce to insignificance the poor pretensions of a man like Leatham! The vicar, dazzled by all this unlooked-for energy, gave his consent to her scheme, and never afterwards repented it; for in three short months she had regulated and coached a singing-cla.s.s that unmistakably outshone its Methodistical rivals.
And then came the question of the new organ.
”We have some money, but not enough money,” said the vicar, one evening, to the partner of his joys; ”and something should be done to bring the want of an organ before the public.”
”I should think it must be sufficiently brought before them every Sunday,” said Mrs. Redmond, triumphantly laying her tenth mended sock in the basket near her.
”The parish is all very well, my dear, but the county ought to hear of it, and ought to help. I insist upon the county putting its hands in its pockets.”
”I think you are quite right to insist,” said Mrs. Redmond, placidly; ”but how are you going to do it?”
”Let us give a concert,” said the vicar, at last bringing to the light of day his great project, that fairly took his wife's breath away.
”Yes, a concert, to which the whole county shall come and hear my--nay, your--choir surpa.s.s itself.”
Mrs. Redmond was struck dumb by this bold proposition, but, finally giving in, she consented to teach the choir, a.s.siduously twice a week, all the quartettes and trios and solos she knew; while still declaring, in a dismal fas.h.i.+on, that she knew the whole thing would be a dismal failure, and that the great cause would lose by it more than it would gain.
Many days, many hours, has Mr. Redmond spent arranging and disarranging all the details of the proposed concert.
The idea is in itself a ”happy thought,”--far happier than any of Burnand's (so he tells himself); but a concert, however unpretentious, is a prodigious affair, and not to be conducted by half a dozen raw recruits.
Besides, the county admires the county, and would prefer seeing itself represented on the boards to listening to the warblings, be they never so sweet, of an outsider. It is so far more delicious to laugh behind one's fan at the people in one's own set than at those outside the pale of recognition. And, of course, the county must be humored.
The vicar grows nervous as he masters this fact, and strives diligently to discover some among the upper ten who will come forward and help to sweeten and gild the ”great unwashed.”