A Song of a Single Note Part 40

and 'come' and 'do this.' I took a bit walk down the road yestreen, and I saw that creature Batavius polishing up the bra.s.s knocker o' his father-in-law's front door. He had raked the littered garden, and Joanna was putting up clean curtains. And he came waddling down to the gate and said, 'Good-morning, Elder,' and I could but say the same to him. And then he said, 'We are all getting ready for the coming home o' our brave soldiers, and I am satisfied; it is a steady principle of mine to be satisfied with the government. Governor Clinton bowed to me yesterday, and he is the friend of General Washington. I notice these things, for it is my way to notice everything.' And I interrupted him and said, 'Your principles change with your interests, sir,' and he fired up and asked: 'Why not, then? It is a principle of mine to go with the times, for I will not be left behind. I am a sailor, and I know that it is a fool that does not turn his sail with the wind. When the wind blows west I will not sail east;' and I said, 'you will do very well in these times,' and he laughed and answered, '_Ja!_ I always do very well. I am known for that everywhere.' So I left him, but the world seems slipping awa' from me, Janet."

"I am at your side, and there's nae bride nor bridegroom o' a day half as much to each other as you are to me and I to you. And if this warld fails, it is not the only warld." And they looked lovingly at each other and were silent and satisfied.

In the meantime the little wedding party had gathered at the altar of St. Paul's Chapel: Neil, who gave away Maria, Madame Jacobus and her friend Counselor Van Ahrens; Lord Medway with Sir Francis Lauve and his sister Miss Estelle Lauve, members of an English family with whom he had been familiar. The chaplain was waiting when the bride arrived, and the words that made her Lord Medway's wife were solemnly said. There was no music, no flowers, no bells, no theatrical effects of any kind, but the simple, grand words of resignation and consecration had all the serious joy and sacred character of a happy religious rite, and every heart felt that nothing could have been more satisfactory. Maria wore the dark cloth dress and long coat she intended to travel in, and as she knelt bareheaded at the altar, Madame Jacobus held the pretty head-covering that matched it. So that as soon as the registry had been made in the vestry, she bid farewell to all her friends, and with a look of adorable love and confidence placed her hand in her husband's.

He was so happy that he was speechless, and he feared a moment's delay.

Until he had Maria safely on board the "Dolphin," he could not feel certain of her possession. The suspense made him silent and nervous; he could only look at his bride and clasp her hands, until she had pa.s.sed safely through the crowded streets and was securely in the cabin of the waiting ship. Then, with the wind in her sails and the sunshine on her white deck, the "Dolphin" went swiftly out to sea.

But not until the low-lying land was quite lost to sight was Lord Medway completely satisfied. Then he suffered the rapture in his heart to find words. He folded Maria in her furs, and clasped her close to his side, and as the daylight faded and the stars shone out upon her lovely face, he told her a thousand times over, how dear, how sweet, how beautiful she was!

Ah! Youth is sweet! and Life is dear to Love and Youth; and these two were supremely happy while whole days long they talked of their past and their future. And though the journey lasted their honeymoon out, they were not sorry. They were going to be in London for the Christmas feast, and Medway remembered that he had promised Mr. Semple to "bring Lady Medway home before the New Year," and he was pleased to redeem his word.

"For I liked your father, Maria," he said. "He seemed to me one of the finest gentlemen I ever met, and----"

"My stepmother is a lady also," Maria answered, "one of the Norfolk Spencers; and many women would have been worse to me than she was.

Sometimes I was in the wrong too."

"They must keep Christmas with us. _Christmas in our own home!_ Maria, you hold me by my heart. Sweet, say what you wish, and you shall have it." And indeed it would be impossible to express in written words a t.i.the of the great content they had. For all their hopes and plans and dreams of future happiness were

"but Ministers of Love And fed his sacred flame,"

and the bliss so long afar, at length so nigh, rested in the great peace of its attainment.

In leaving New York immediately after their marriage, Lord and Lady Medway escaped the misery of seeing the last agony of the royalist inhabitants of that city. For six months Sir Guy Carleton had been sending them to Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Canada, to the Bahamas and the West India Islands, and yet the condition of the city in these last days is indescribable. To remove a large household is no easy matter, but the whole city had practically to be moved, and at the same time at least two thousand families driven from their homes at the occupation of New York, had returned and were gradually taking possession of their deserted dwellings. The confusion was intensified at the last by the distraction of those who had hesitated until delay was no longer possible, by the sick and the helpless, and the remnant who had been striving to procure money, or were waiting for relatives and friends.

Such a scene as New York presented on the morning of the final evacuation on the twenty-fifth of November, 1783, has no parallel in modern history.

It was followed by a scene not only as intensely dramatic, but also as exhilarating and joyful as the former was distracting and despairing--the entry of the triumphant Army of Freedom. As the rearguard of the British army left the Battery, it came marching down the Bowery--picked heroes of a score of battlefields--led by General Knox. It pa.s.sed by Chatham Street and Pearl Street to Wall Street and so to Broadway, where it waited for the procession headed by General Washington and Governor Clinton, the officers of the army, citizens on horseback, and citizens on foot. A salute of thirteen guns greeted the columns as they met, arms were presented and the drums beat. As a military procession, it was without impressiveness, as a moral procession, it was without equal in the annals of the world. No bells chimed congratulations, no bands of music stirred popular enthusiasm; it notably lacked all the usual pomp of military display, but no grander army of self-wrought freemen ever greeted their chief, their homes, and their native city.

Madame Jacobus, weeping tears of joy, viewed it from her window. Early in the morning she had sent a closed carriage for her friend Madame Semple; but it had returned empty.

"Janet Semple kept herself alive for this day," she said. "I wonder why she did not come. She prayed that her eyes might see this salvation, and then she has not come to see it. What is the matter, I wonder?"

A very simple and yet a very great thing was the matter. When Madame had put on her best gown, some little necessity took her back to the parlor.

The Elder was crouching over the fire and down his white face tears were unconsciously streaming. She could not bear it; she could not leave him.

"The joy is there, the victory is won, and the blessing is for a'

generations," she said. "I'll never be missed in the crowd, and I can sing 'Glory be to G.o.d' in my ain house. So I'll stay where I'm needed, by my dear auld man; it was for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in joy, or in sorrow, while baith our lives lasted," she mused, "and Janet Semple isna one to forget that bargain." She went quickly back to her room, spoke only into the ear of G.o.d her joy and her thanksgiving, and then taking off her festival garments, knocked at Neil's door as she went down stairs.

"Are you going out, Neil?"

"No; I shall stay with father. I am just going to him."

They went together, and as they entered the room, the Elder looked up:

"Aren't you going to see the show, Neil?" he asked.

"I prefer to stay with you, sir," was the answer. The old man looked from his son to his wife gratefully, and murmuring, "Thank you baith,"

he fainted away.

Tenderly they lifted him to a couch, and he soon responded to the remedies applied; but Janet gave him a soothing draught, and they sat the afternoon through, watching him. They could hear the joyful acclaims--the shouts and songs of a redeemed people--the noise of a mult.i.tude giving itself to a tumultuous joy; but the real gladness of grateful hearts was by the rekindled hearth fires. Fathers and mothers at home again! After seven years' wandering, they knew what Home meant.

Their houses were dismantled, but they had Liberty! Their gardens were destroyed, their shade trees burnt, but they had Liberty! Their churches were desecrated, but they had Liberty! Their trade was gone, their fair city mutilated and blackened with fire, her streets torn up, and her wharfs decayed, but thank G.o.d, they had Liberty! Never again would they be the subjects of any king, or the victims of any imposed tyranny. They were free men. They had won their freedom, and they who have once tasted of the sharp, strong wine of Freedom will drink thereof forever.

These events occurred exactly one hundred and eighteen years ago, but those who happen to be in that lovely country which lies between Yorkshire and Lancashire can find in Medway Castle one frail memento of them. A little diplomacy and a little coin of the realm dropped into the keeper's hand will procure them admittance. And after viewing its rooms of state, its splendid library, and its picture gallery, they may seek a little room toward the sunrising, called "the Lady Maria's parlor." Its furniture of crimson satin is faded now, but it doubtless suited well the dark beauty so well depicted in a large portrait of her, that is one of the ornaments of the east wall. The portrait of her husband, Lord Ernest Medway, is near to it, but between them is a sheet of ordinary writing paper, yellow with age, but still keeping a legible copy of three verses and the pretty, simple, old tune to which they were sung.

It is the original copy of _"The Song of a Single Note,"_ the song they sang together at Nicholas Bayard's summer entertainment one hundred and twenty-one years ago. Lord Medway always said it was an enchanted song, and that, as its melodious tones fell from his lady's lips, they charmed his heart away and gave it to her forever.

And if other lovers would learn this fateful melody, why here is a copy of it. If they sing it but once together, it may be that they will sing it as long as they live:

"For through the sense, the song shall fit The soul to understand."

A SONG OF A SINGLE NOTE.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A song of a sin-gle note.

But it soars and swells a-bove The trum-pet's call and clash of arms, For the name of the song is Love, Love, Love, The name of the song is Love.]

Mortals may sing it here below, The angels sing it above; For all of heaven that earth can know Is set to the Song of Love, Love, love, love, is set to the Song of Love.

Then bid the trumpet and drum be still, And battle flags idly float; Better by far that men should sing The Song of a Single Note.

Love, love, love, the Song of a Single Note.