The Wayfarers

by J. C. Snaith

With every penny of our late fortune squandered, we were again reduced to this employ. It was then I bethought me of the gypsy's flute. I bore it still in the pocket of my cloak; and had improvised several melodies already upon it to cheer our lonely way. Thus, when we came to a village about noon, wanting refreshment and even a penny to furnish it, I boldly took forth the instrument and blew it for all I was worth as we walked slowly along the principal street. Probably my notes were lustier and in better tune than is ordinary with others of this profession; or again, even an itinerant musician may have been a strange bird in this out-of-the-way place; for be it known that when Cynthia holding my hat in her hand sweetly importuned every staring yokel and every opened window with her daintiest smile and her gracefullest curtesy, we had acquired the sum of fourpence, mostly in halfpence, by the time we had come to the village alehouse. Thither we repaired to invest this reward of our toil in as good a repast of bread and cheese and ale as could be obtained for the money. We seasoned it by a fine argument as to whom the credit of it belonged. I vowed it was my fine playing that was alone responsible for it; whilst Cynthia was equally firm in her conviction that it was entirely due to the elegance of her solicitations.

We were mightily pleased with a prospect that offered a new source of revenue. But ere long we were doomed to discover that it was not fair as we had supposed, and that it had its drawbacks. This melancholy incident happened the very next time we put it in practice. The scene of it was a somewhat larger village than the first, and we attracted such an amount of attention that I believe Cynthia collected as much as sevenpence in a very little while. And so encouraged were we by the amount of favour with which we were received that we were emboldened to give a kind of set performance in front of the village ale-house. It had even been decided that Cynthia should sing a love ballad, for she had a very sweet voice and was prettily accomplished in the use of it.

Everything prospered with us admirably well for some time. An audience gathered about us; and although a little inclined to be abashed at first, we overcame those feelings very soon and gave our singing and music with great spirit. But just before we had come to the conclusion of the last piece, the throng was invaded by several stalwart fellows, amongst whom were the beadle of the parish and the squire of the place, both highly indignant to be sure. The latter was red and fat and full of choler.

"Take 'em both, Thomas," says he, wonderfully angry and stern, "and they shall be clapt into the stocks, sink me so they shall. The idea of two vagrant wretches daring to affront me thus under my very nose. There shall be no playing of profane tricks and loud music in this parish, curse me if there shall be."

Meanwhile the beadle, in the exercise of his authority, had twice set his dirty hands on my coat, and twice had I gently but firmly removed them.

"I will venture to say we are doing no harm to any one, sir," says I to the squire, controlling my resentment as well as I could, and striving to ape a humility I did not feel. "And surely, sir, you will not be too hard on poor people."

This fellow, however, was plainly of that tribe that loves to exult over the weak. It was his pleasure to display a greater and more despotic authority the less occasion there was for its exercise. The meeker he found us the more unbending was his indignation.

"How dare you venture to address me, you wandering vagabond?" says he. "Your damnable impertinence does but aggravate your offence. I will see whether you will defy me, I will so. You shall go to the stocks at once, and you may bless your fortune it is not the house of correction."

It needed but a glance to assure us that to resist would be vain. Not only the beadle, but several other persons under the immediate eye of this despot, were but too ready to curry favour with him by doing his bidding. In fact, one and all of those present seemed to conceive a mighty admiration of his rage. They felt such a display of anger and unfettered will to be sublime. Therefore, we were pushed and hustled with many unnecessary indignities, all the throng following to the village green, and were set side by side in the stocks forthwith. When we had been duly affixed in this place of humiliation, the squire made us quite a lengthy harangue, not so much I suspect for our edification as for the glory of himself. His anger against us inoffensive creatures who answered him not a word, mounted higher and higher till it grew truly magnificent. He stamped and raved and swore; he had a mind to do this, and a mind to do that, and 'fore God he would if it were not for the abominable leniency of his character. The beadle kept nodding his head, and fretted himself into a kind of ecstasy of admiration of the squire's remarks; whilst the villagers could be heard to say to one another: "Lord, an't squire noble angry-like to be sure." But neither of us retorted on the fellow by so much as a word, and I think we were well advised not to do so, for had we but unbosomed ourselves of a very small part of what was in our hearts he might have had a real grievance to set against us.

Therefore we both regarded him in silence, and strove to maintain a demeanour of the coldest disdain. It was not very easy, to be sure, in that posture, with jeers and humiliation besetting us on every side. Yet we persevered in it so well that presently it did not fail in its effect. For our persecutor was such a poltroon at heart that although we were secured and quite at his mercy, he no sooner observed that we scorned him, than the torrent of his eloquence grew sensibly less. So long as we were humble and appeared to shrink and tremble before him, his rage knew no bounds. But the moment we called in a little disdain to our aid, he grew less certain of himself, and was so baffled and held in check by it, that at last he bethought himself that he would best serve his dignity by taking himself off. His parasite the beadle went with him, but a considerable number of the yokels stayed to keep us company. Their disposition was to make sport of our misfortune. But how true is that old saw—so the master, so the man.