"Play the gentleman 'The Merry Widder,'" said Macbeth, "and wait till the thunder's stopped rolling before you begin."
The "Merry Widder" was well and duly played, and fully bore out Macbeth's eulogy of the player. It was followed by something from Maritana, and other things which I forget. Though the mouth of the trumpet was only a few inches from the drum of my ear, yet the din of the rain on the roof was such that the effect was not unpleasant—at all events, it was a welcome relief from the frightful strains on the olfactory organ. The man, I say, was a good player, and I remember wishing, as I listened to him, that there was anything in life that I could do half as well.
As he finished one of his selections, the gloom deepened, it became almost as dark as night, the rain ceased for a moment, and there was silence; and then there shot in upon us a blast of fire and a bolt of thunder, so near and so overwhelming that I verily believe it was a narrow escape from death.
"That's something to put the fear of God into a man," said Macbeth, as the volley rolled into distance. "My crikey! But I've heard say, mister, that the thunder is the voice of the wrath of God."
"I'm sure it is," I replied.
"Sounds like it anyhow. I wonder if that there chap with the cart has got the young woman under cover. She'll be scared out of her life. Eh, but isn't it dark? It might be half-past ten. Here, matey"—to Banquo—"let's have something in keepin' loike. Give us 'Lead, Kindly Light,' lad, on t' cornet, and I'll sing the bass. I want t' gentleman to hear my voice."
The hymn was sung in a voice as good as some that have made great fortunes, but with a depth of emotion which occasionally spoilt the notes; and I can say little more than that the singing, in that strange setting, with muttering thunder for an undertone, was a thing I shall not forget.
"Do you know anything about that hymn?" said Macbeth (the tears made watercourses down his dirty face) when it was over.
"Yes," I said, "a little."
"But I know all about it," replied Macbeth. "Him as wrote that hymn was Cardinal Newman. They say he wrote it at sea, maybe he wrote it in a storm—like this. He was a Protestant, and was just turning into a Catholic. Didn't know whether he would or whether he wouldn't, loike. That's what he means when he says, 'Lead, Kindly Light.' He was i' th' dark, and wanted lightin'. It was all dark, don't you see, just loike it is naow."