“If the bell have any sides the clapper will find 'em.”--
--_Ben Jonson_.
“----ringing changes all our bells hath marr'd,
Jangled they have and jarr'd
So long, they're out of tune, and out of frame;
They seem not now the same.
Put them in frame anew, and once begin
To tune them so, that they may chime all in.”
--_Herbert_.
“Great then are the mysteries of bell-ringing: and this may
be said in its praise, that of all devices which men have sought
out for obtaining distinction by making a noise in the world, it
is the most harmless.”
--_The Doctor_.
AS we proceeded through the town Lawless, despite our endeavours to
restrain him, chose to vent his superabundant spirits by performing
sundry feats at the expense of the public, which, had the police
regulations of the place been properly attended to, would have assuredly
gained us a sojourn in the watch-house. We had just prevailed upon him
to move on, after singing “We won't go home till morning” under the
windows of “the Misses Properprim's Seminary for Young Ladies,” when
a little shrivelled old man, in a sort of watchman's white greatcoat,
bearing a horn lantern in his hand, brushed past us, and preceded us
down the street at a shuffling trot.
“Holloa!” cried Lawless, “who's that old picture of ugliness? Look what
a pace the beggar's cutting along at! what on earth's he up to?”
“That's the sexton and bell-ringer,” returned Coleman; “they keep up the
old custom at Hillingford of ringing the curfew at daybreak, and he's
going about it now, I suppose.”
“What jolly fun!” said Lawless; “come on, and let's see how the old
cock does it; “and, suiting the action to the word, off he started in
pursuit.
“We'd better follow him,” said I; “he'll be getting into some mischief
or other, depend upon it.”
After running a short distance down the street, on turning a corner
we found Lawless standing under a small arched door-way leading into a
curious old battlemented tower, which did not form part of any church
or other building of the same date as itself, but stood alone,
~130~~showing, as it reared its time-worn head high above the more
modern dwellings of which the street was composed, like some giant relic
of the days of old. This tower contained a peal of bells, the fame
of which was great in that part of the country, and of which the
townspeople were justly proud.
“All right!” cried Lawless; “the old scarecrow ran in here like a
lamp-lighter, as soon he saw me bowling after him, and has left the key
in the lock; so I shall take the liberty of exploring a little; I've a
strong though undeveloped taste for architectural antiquities. Twopence
more, and up goes the donkey! come along!”
So saying, he flung open the door, and disappeared up some steps leading
to the interior of the tower, and, after a moment's hesitation, Coleman
and I followed him.
“Don't be alarmed, old boy!” observed Lawless, patting the sexton (who
looked frightened out of his wits at our intrusion) so forcibly on the
back as to set him coughing violently; “we're not come to murder you for
the sake of your lantern.”
“This gentleman,” said Coleman, who by the cunning twinkle of his eye
was evidently becoming possessed by the spirit of mischief, “has been
sent down by the Venerable Society of Antiquaries to ascertain whether
the old custom of ringing the Curfew is properly performed here. He is,
in fact, no other than the Noble President of the Society himself. That
gentleman (pointing to me) is the Vice-President, and I, who have the
honour of addressing you, am the unworthy Secretary.”
“That's it, Daddy,” resumed Lawless, coolly taking up the lantern, and
lighting a cigar; “that's the precise state of the poll, I mean case; so
now go to work, and mind you do the trick properly.”
Thus adjured, the old man, who appeared completely bewildered by all
that was going on, mechanically took hold of a rope, and began slowly
and at stated intervals tolling one of the bells.
“Where are your assistants, my good man?” inquired Coleman after a short
pause.--The only answer was a stare of vacant surprise, and Coleman
continued, “Why, you don't mean to say you only ring one bell, to be
sure? oh, this is all wrong:--what do you say, Mr. President?”
“Wrong?” replied Lawless, removing the cigar from his mouth and puffing
a cloud of smoke into the sexton's face, “I should just think it _was_,
most particularly and confoundedly wrong. I'll tell you what it is, old
death's-head and cross-bones; things can't be allowed to go on ~131~~in
this manner. Reform, sir, is wanting, 'the bill, the whole bill, and
nothing but the bill'. I mean to get into Parliament some day, Fairlegh,
when I am tired of knocking about, you know--but that wasn't exactly
what I was going to say.”
“Suppose we show him the proper way to do it, Mr. President!” suggested
Freddy, catching hold of the rope of one of the bells.
“Off she goes,” cried Lawless, seizing another.
“Gentlemen, good gentlemen, don't ring the bells, pray,” implored the
old man, “you'll raise the whole town; they are never rung in that way
without there's a fire, or a flood, or the riot act read, or something
of that dreadful natur the matter.”
But his expostulations were vain. Lawless had already begun ringing his
bell in a manner which threatened to stun us all; and Coleman saying to
me, “Come, Frank, we're regularly in for it, so you may as well take a
rope and do the thing handsomely while we _are_ about it; it would
be horridly shabby of you to desert us now,” I hastened to follow his
example.
Now it must be known that when I arrived at the inn, before supper,
owing probably to a combination of the fatigue of the day, the
excitement of the evening and the pain of my arm, I felt somewhat faint
and exhausted, and should have greatly preferred going at once quietly
to bed; but, as I was aware that by so doing I should break up the party
I resolved to keep up as well as I could, and say nothing about it.
Finding myself refreshed by the bottled porter, I repeated the dose
several times, and the remedy continuing to prove efficacious, without
giving the thing a thought, I drank more deeply than was my wont, and
was a good deal surprised, when I rose to accompany the others, to
discover that my legs were slightly unsteady, and my head not so clear
as usual. Still I had been far from approving the proceedings of my
companions, and had any one told me, when I entered the tower, that I
was going to ring all the good people of Hillingford out of their beds
in a fright, I should indignantly have repelled the accusation. Now,
however, owing to the way in which Coleman had requested my assistance,
it appeared to my bewildered senses that I should be meanly deserting my
friends the moment they had got into difficulties, if I were to refuse;
but when he used the word “shabby,” it settled the business, and,
seizing a rope with my uninjured hand, I began pulling away vigorously.
~132~~“Now, then, you wretched old beggar,” shouted Lawless, “don't
stand there winking and blinking like an owl; pull away like bricks,
or I'll break your neck for you; go to work, I say!” and the miserable
sexton, with a mute gesture of despair, resuming his occupation, a
peal of four bells was soon ringing bravely out over hill and dale, and
making “night horrible” to the startled inhabitants of Hillingford.
After the lapse of a few minutes a distant shout was heard; then a
confused noise of people running and calling to each other in the
streets reached our ears; and lastly the sound of several persons
rapidly approaching the bell-tower became audible.
“We're in for a scrimmage now, I expect,” said Lawless, leisurely
turning up his sleeves.
“Not a bit of it,” replied Freddy; “only leave it to me, and you'll
see. All you fellows have got to do is to hold your tongues, and keep
on ringing away till your arms ache; trust me to manage the thing all
right. Lawless, keep your eye on ancient Methuselah there, and if he
offers to say a word just knock him head over heels by accident, will
you?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Lawless, shaking his fists significantly at the
sexton.
At this moment a short fat man with a very red face (who we afterwards
learned was no less a person than the mayor of Hillingford in his
public, and a mighty tallow-chandler in his private, capacity) appeared,
attired in a night-cap and greatcoat, and bearing the rest of his
wardrobe under his arm, followed by several of the townspeople, all in
a singular state of undress, and with the liveliest alarm depicted on
their countenances. The worthy mayor was so much out of breath by his
unwonted exertions that some seconds elapsed before he could utter
a word, and in the meantime we continued ringing as though our lives
depended upon it. At length he contrived to gasp out a hurried inquiry
(hardly audible amidst the clanging of the bells) as to what was the
matter. To this Coleman replied by pointing with one hand to a kind
of loop-hole, of which there were several for the purpose of supplying
light and air to the interior of the tower, while with the other hand he
continued ringing away more lustily than before.
“Bless my soul!” exclaimed the mayor, raising himself on tiptoe, and
stretching his short neck in a vain endeavour to peep through the
loop-hole, “it must be a fire in West Street!”
~133~~Two or three of the by-standers immediately rushed into the
street, calling out, “A fire in West Street! send for the engines”.
At this moment Freddy caught the eye of a tall, gaunt-looking man in a
top-boot and plush breeches, but without coat or waistcoat, and wearing
a gold-laced cocked hat on his head, hind part before, from beneath
which peeped out a white cotton night-cap. Having succeeded in
attracting the attention of this worthy, who in his proper person
supported the dignity of parish beadle, Coleman repeated the same
stratagem he had so successfully practised upon the mayor, save that
in this instance he pointed to a loop-hole in a completely opposite
direction to the one he had indicated previously. The beadle immediately
ran out, muttering ere he did so, “I was certain sure as they was
all wrong”.--In another minute we heard him shouting, “It's in Middle
Street, I tell you, there's a fire in Middle Street!”
[Illustration: page133 Freddy Mystifies the Beadle]
Coleman now turned to the mayor, who, having somewhat recovered his
breath, was evidently preparing to question the sexton as to the
particulars of the affair, and exclaimed in a tone of deep feeling, “I
am surprised to see a person of your high station standing idle at a
moment like this! take a rope, sir, and lend a hand to assist us, if you
be a man”.
“To be sure, to be sure,” was the reply, “anything for the good of the
town,” and, grasping an unoccupied rope, he began pulling away with all
his might.
The hubbub and confusion now became something unparalleled--people
without number kept running in and out of the tower, giving and
receiving all kinds of contradictory orders; volunteers had been
found to assist us, and the whole peal of eight bells was clashing and
clanging away above the tumult, and spreading the alarm farther and
wider; men on horseback were arriving from the country eager to render
assistance; women were screaming, dogs barking, children crying; and, to
crown the whole, a violent and angry debate was being carried on by the
more influential members of the crowd as to the quarter in which the
supposed conflagration was raging--one party loudly declaring it was in
Middle Street, while the other as vehemently protested it was in West
Street.
The confusion had apparently attained its highest pitch, and the noise
was perfectly deafening, when suddenly a shout was raised, “The engines!
clear the way for the engines!” and in another moment the scampering of
the ~134~~crowd in all directions, the sound of horses' feet galloping,
and the rattle of wheels, announced their approach. While all this was
going on Coleman had contrived silently and unperceived to substitute
two of the by-standers in my place and his own, so that Lawless was the
only one of our party actually engaged in ringing. Seizing the moment,
therefore, when the shout of “The engines!” had attracted the attention
of the loiterers, he touched him on the shoulder, saying, “Now's our
time, come along,” and, joining a party who were going out, we reached
the door of the bell-tower unobserved.
The scene which presented itself to our view as we gained the open
street would require the pencil of a Wilkie, or the pen of a Dickens, to
describe. The street widened in front of the bell-tower, so as to make
a kind of square. In the centre of the space thus formed stood the
fire-engine drawn by four post-horses, the post-boys sitting erect in
their saddles, ready to dash forward the moment the firemen (who in
their green coats faced with red, and shining leather helmets,
imparted a somewhat military character to the scene) should succeed
in ascertaining the place at which their assistance was required. The
crowd, which had opened to admit the passage of the engine, immediately
closed round it again in an apparently impenetrable phalanx, the
individual members of which afforded as singular a variety of costume
as can well be imagined, extending from the simple shirt of propriety
to the decorated uniforms of the fire-brigade. As every one who had an
opinion to give was bawling it out at the very top of his voice, whilst
those who had none contented themselves by shouting vague sentences
devoid of particular meaning of any kind, the noise and tumult were such
as beggared description. There was one short, stout, red-faced little
fellow (for I succeeded in catching sight of him at last) with a mouth
of such fearful dimensions that when it was open the upper half of his
head appeared a mere lid, whose intellects being still partially under
the dominion of sleep, evidently imagined himself at the Election,
which had taken place a short time previously, and continued strenuously
vociferating the name of his favourite candidate, though the cry of
“Judkins for ever!” did not tend greatly to elucidate matters. Suddenly,
and at the very height of the confusion, the bells ceased ringing, and
for a moment, as if influenced by some supernatural power, the crowd to
a man became silent.
The transition from the Babel of sounds I have been ~135~~describing to
such perfect tranquillity was most striking, and impressed one with an
involuntary feeling of awe. I was aroused by Coleman, who whispered in
an undertone, “The sexton has peached, depend upon it, and the sooner
we're off the better”.
“Yes, and I'll go in style too; so good-bye, and take care of
yourselves,” exclaimed Lawless, and, springing forward, before any
one was aware of his intention, he forced his way through the crowd,
overturning sundry members thereof in his progress, until he reached the
fire-engine, upon which he seated himself with a bound, shouting as
he did so: “Forward, forward! do you want the place to be burnt to
the ground? I'll show you the way; give 'em the spur; faster, faster,
straight on till I tell you to turn--faster, I say!”
[Illustration: page135 Eloping with the Fire-Engine]
The appearance of authority, coupled with energy and decision, will
usually control a crowd. The firemen, completely taken in by Lawless's
manner, reiterated his orders; the post-boys applied both whip and spur
vigorously--the horses dashed forward, and, amidst the enthusiastic
cheering of the mob, the engine disappeared like a flash of lightning.
“Well, I give the Honourable George credit for that,” exclaimed Coleman,
as soon as we had a little recovered from our surprise at Lawless's
elopement with the fire-engine; “it was a good idea, and he worked it
out most artistically; the air with which he waved his hat to cheer them
forward was quite melodramatic. I've seen the thing not half so well
done by several of the greatest generals who ever lived--gallant
commanders, whom their men would have followed through any amount of the
reddest possible fire during the whole of Astley's campaigns, that is,
if the commissariat department (consisting of the pot-boy stationed at
the side-scenes with the porter) did its duty efficiently.”
“Freddy, they're beginning to come out from the bell-tower,” interrupted
I; “we shall be called upon to answer for our misdeeds if we stay much
longer; see, that long man in the cocked hat is coming towards us.”
“So he is,” returned Coleman; “it strikes me they've found us out;
follow me, and try and look as if it wasn't you as much as possible,
will you?” So saying, he began to make his way out of the crowd
unperceived, an example I hastened to follow; but we were not destined
to effect our purpose quite so easily. The point Coleman wished to gain
was an arched gateway leading into a stable-yard, from which he hoped,
by a foot-path with which he was acquainted, across some fields, to
reach ~136~~without molestation the inn where I was to sleep. But,
in order to effect this, we were obliged to pass the door of the
bell-tower, from which several people, who appeared angry and excited,
were now issuing. The foremost of those, the cock-hatted official before
mentioned, made his way up to us, exclaiming as he did so:--
“Here, you young gen'lmen, just you stop a bit, will yer? His Wusshup,
the mayor, seems to begin to think as somebody's been a making a fool of
him.”
“A very natural idea,” returned Coleman; “I only wonder it never
occurred to him before; as far as my limited acquaintance with him
will allow me to judge, the endeavour appears to have been perfectly
successful. I wish you a very good-morning.”
“That's all wery fine, but I must trouble yer to come along o' me; his
Wusshup wants to speak to yer,” replied the beadle, seizing Coleman by
the coat-collar.
“That is a pleasure his 'Wusshup' must contrive to postpone till he
has caught me,” answered Freddy, as with a sudden jerk he succeeded
in freeing himself from his captor's grasp, while, almost at the same
moment, he dealt him a cuff on the side of the head which sent him
reeling back to the door of the bell-tower, where encountering the
mayor, who had just made his appearance, he came headlong to the
ground, dragging that illustrious functionary down with him in a frantic
endeavour to save himself. Profiting by the confusion that ensued Freddy
and I sprang forward, darted through the archway, and, making the best
use of our legs, soon found ourselves in the open fields, and quite
beyond the reach of pursuit.