THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 NEW ENGLAND VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 OCCASIONAL REFLECTIONS. 
 
 BY A MEMBER. 
 
 I C ) 
 
 What though no cherubim are here display'd, 
 No gilded walls, no cedar colonnade, 
 No crimson curtains hang around our quire, 
 Wrought by the ingenious artisan of Tyre ; 
 No doora of fir on golden hinges turn ; 
 No spicy gums in golden censers burn ; 
 If humble love, if gratitude inspire, 
 One strain shall silence even the temple's quire, 
 And rival Michael's trump, nor yield to Gabriel's lyre. 
 Pierpont's Jlirs of Palestine. 
 
 BOSTON. S, G. GOODRICH, ANI> CO. 
 
 1829.
 
 DISTRICT OF MASSACHUSETTS, TO WIT: 
 
 District Clerk's Office. 
 
 BE it remembered, that on the tenth day of March, A. D. 
 1829, in the riftythird year of the Independence of the United 
 States of America, S. G. Goodrich and Co. of the said district, 
 have deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof 
 they claim as proprietors in the words following, to wit : 
 
 ' Memoirs of a New England Village Choir. With Occasional 
 Reflections. By a Member.' 
 
 In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, 
 entitled, ' An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing 
 the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprie- 
 tors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned ; ' and 
 also to an act, entitled An act supplementary to an act, entitled 
 e< An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies 
 of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of 
 such copies during the times therein mentioned ; " and extending 
 the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etch- 
 ing historical and other prints.' 
 
 JNO. W. DAVIS, 
 Clerk of the District of Massachusetts.
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMBERS 
 
 OF THK 
 
 HANDEL AND HAYDN SOCIETY 
 
 OF 
 
 BOSTON. 
 
 I dedicate to you a work, of which the principal 
 merit is a humble co-operation in the design, so suc- 
 cessfully prosecuted by you, of improving the Sacred 
 Music of New England. 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 MEMOIRS 
 
 NEW ENGLAND VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 THE MEETIXGHOUSE. 
 
 WISHING to present a sketch of manners in 
 New England, and of some changes that 
 have occurred in our taste for sacred music, 
 I have presumed to adopt for the purpose, a 
 kind of desultory narrative. 
 
 The time when the few humble incidents 
 occurred, which are recorded in the follow- 
 ing pages, embraced about ten years, bor- 
 dering upon the last and present centuries. 
 The place was a village, situated not far 
 from the river Merrimac ; and for the sake 
 of avoiding any invidious allusions or inter- 
 pretations, I shall give to the town the ficti- 
 tious name of Wateriield.
 
 % THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 Many years had now elapsed, since any 
 interruption, or indeed any thing extraordina- 
 ry, had happened to the music, that was 
 barely tolerated in the meetinghouse at 
 Waterfield. At the period when our me- 
 moirs commence, the long-established lead- 
 er, Mr Pitchtone, had just removed with his 
 family to one of the new towns in the Dis- 
 trict of Maine, and the choir, which had 
 been for some time in a decaying state, was 
 thus left without any head, or any hope of 
 keeping itself together. For some Sundays 
 after his departure, not an individual ventur- 
 ed to appear in the singing seats. Young 
 Williams, the eccentric and interesting shoe- 
 maker, who was an apprentice to his father, 
 knew perfectly well how to set the tune, but 
 he had not as yet acquired sufficient self- 
 confidence to pass the leading notes round 
 to the performers of different parts, nor to 
 encounter various other kinds of intimidating 
 notoriety attached to the office. The female 
 singers, besides, had been so long and so 
 implicitly accustomed to their late leader,
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 that nothing could have induced them to 
 submit to the control of so young and inex- 
 perienced a guide. And as no other mem- 
 ber of the congregation possessed sufficient 
 skill or firmness to undertake this responsible 
 and conspicuous task, the consequence was, 
 that nearly all the performers, at first, absent- 
 ed themselves, not only from the singing 
 gallery, but even from church. Most of 
 them had been so long habituated to their 
 elevated position, and their active duty in 
 the place of worship, that they could not 
 immediately undergo the awkwardness of 
 sitting below among the congregation, and 
 were not a little apprehensive of meeting the 
 stares of mingled curiosity and reproach, 
 which they knew would be directed towards 
 them. In addition to these circumstances, 
 many had not the heart to witness the em- 
 barrassment and pain which would naturally 
 be created in the minister and his flock, by 
 the anticipated chasm in the usual routine of 
 worship. Two or three, however, of the 
 more courageous in the late choir, ventured
 
 4 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 to attend church even on the first Sabbath 
 after the removal of Mr Pitchtone. They 
 went, indeed, at a very early hour, for the 
 purpose of avoiding notice, and took their 
 seats in some unappropriated pews in a very 
 distant, and almost invisible quarter of the 
 gallery. 
 
 The entire congregation having assembled, 
 the clergyman waited some time for the ac- 
 customed appearance of the sons and daugh- 
 ters of sacred song. It is almost universally 
 the practice throughout our New England 
 country churches, to commence public wor- 
 ship with the singing of a psalm or hymn. 
 On the present occasion, no person being 
 ostensibly ready to perform that duty, the 
 minister began the services with the ' long 
 prayer.' Yet, when this was concluded, an 
 imperious necessity occurred, of making at 
 least the attempt to diversify and animate 
 the business of the sanctuary, by an act of 
 melody. Accordingly the Rev. Mr Welby 
 announced and read the psalm adapted to 
 the subject of the sermon which was to
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. O 
 
 succeed. Then, having waited a moment or 
 two, during which a most painful silence 
 and suspense pervaded the congregation, he 
 began, in a voice naturally strong and clear, 
 to sing the psalm alone, still keeping his 
 usual standing position in the centre of the 
 pulpit Only one voice was heard to sup- 
 port him. It was that of the venerable 
 deacon, who sat immediately beneath, and 
 who hummed a broken kind of bass, without 
 the accompaniment of words, there being 
 scarcely a hymn book in the lower part of 
 the meetinghouse. The same scene occur- 
 red in the afternoon, with the slight addition 
 of a female voice in some part of the house, 
 which lent its modest, unskilful, and half- 
 suppressed assistance through the conclud- 
 ing portion of the hymn. 
 
 Blatters went on nearly in this way for 
 the space of a month, at the end of which, 
 the singing began to improve a little, by the 
 gradual return to church, though not to the 
 singing gallery, of the stragglers who had 
 composed the late choir, and who were now
 
 6 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 willing to join in the vocal duties of worship 
 under the auspices of the pastor. At length, 
 when about six months had been thus drag- 
 ged along, an occasion offered for a return 
 to the deserted orchestra, in a manner which 
 might somewhat shelter the mortification 
 and inspire the confidence of the rallied 
 choristers. 
 
 A Mr Ebed Harrington, who had recent- 
 ly removed into the village for the purpose 
 of studying medicine with the physician of 
 the place, had some pretensions on the mu- 
 sical score. He was an unmarried man, of 
 about the age of thirty years, and had been, 
 until this period, a hard-working labourer on 
 his father's farm, which was situated in an 
 obscure township in New Hampshire. His 
 complexion was of the darkest, his face ex- 
 actly circular, his eyes small, black, and un- 
 meaning, his form thickset, and the joints of 
 his principal limbs had been contracted by 
 nature or use into inflexible angles of con- 
 siderable acuteness. He defrayed the ex- 
 penses of his board and medical tuition by
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 7 
 
 labouring agriculturally the half of every day, 
 for his teacher, Dr Saddlebags. The other 
 half of the day, and a large portion of the 
 night, were industriously devoted by our 
 incipient Esculapius to the study of his new- 
 chosen profession, with the exception of a 
 few evenings which he occasionally spent at 
 different places in the neighborhood. It was 
 on one of these visits that he found means 
 to exhibit some imposing specimens of his 
 abilities in the performance of sacred music. 
 And having suggested that he had often 
 taken the lead in the choir of his native 
 parish, he . almost immediately received a 
 pressing invitation from some of the most 
 active of the singers in Waterfield, to place 
 himself at their head, on the following Sab- 
 bath, and thus enable them to supply the 
 lamented vacancy, which existed in the 
 apparatus of worship at their meetinghouse. 
 The invitation was accepted. That quar- 
 ter of the singing seats devoted to the female 
 sex, was filled at an early hour on the next 
 Sabbath morning, by fair occupants, furnish-
 
 8 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ed generally each with her hymn book, and 
 waiting with some impatience for the other 
 moiety of the choir to arrive, and for the 
 services to begin. The body of male per- 
 formers gradually assembled at one cor- 
 ner of the building, out of doors, and 
 discussed several particulars relating to the 
 important movement which was now about 
 to take place. One difficulty that staggered 
 the most of them, was, the manner in which 
 Mr Ebed Harrington, their new precentor, 
 should be introduced into the singing gallery. 
 He himself, modestly suggested the propri- 
 ety of being conducted by some one of the 
 gentlemen singers to the spot. But besides 
 that there was not an individual in the circle 
 who conceived himself clothed with sufficient 
 authority, or who felt sufficient confidence 
 in himself, to enact so grave a ceremony, it 
 appeared to be the general opinion, that Mi- 
 Harrington, in virtue of his newly conferred 
 office, should march into church at the head 
 of the choir. While they were debating this 
 point with no little earnestness, the time was
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 9 
 
 sliding rapidly away. All the rest of the 
 congregation, even to the last tardy strag- 
 gler, had entered and taken their seats. An 
 impatient and wondering stillness mantled 
 over the whole assemblage within, and Mr 
 Welby was on the point of rising to an- 
 nounce the psalm, at the hazard of whatever 
 consequences might ensue, when, by a sud- 
 den, spontaneous, and panic-like movement, 
 which I cannot remember who of us began, 
 the tuneful collection without, suspended 
 their debate, and rushed in a body into the 
 front door of the meetinghouse. Part of us 
 turned off immediately into the right aisle, 
 and part into the left. The stairs leading to 
 the gallery were placed at the end of each 
 of these aisles, at two corners of the building 
 within, so that whoever mounted them was 
 exposed to the view of the congregation. 
 With a hurried and most earnest solemnity, 
 the choristers made their trampling way up 
 these stairs, and soon found themselves in a 
 large octagonal pew in the centre of the 
 front gallery. Each individual occupied the
 
 !0 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 seat which he could first reach, and Mr 
 Harrington, without being offered the post 
 of honour usually assigned the leader, was 
 fain, in the general confusion and forgetful- 
 ness of the scene, to assume about four in- 
 ches of the edge of a bench contiguous to 
 the door of the pew. Here, while wiping 
 from his brow, with a red dotted calico 
 handkerchief, the perspiration which the 
 anxieties and exertions of the moment had 
 profusely excited, the voice of the clergyman 
 in the pulpit restored him and his fellow 
 singers to the calm of recollection, and fix- 
 ed all eyes around upon him as their legiti- 
 mate guide. 
 
 The tune which he selected was well 
 adapted to the hymn announced. Every 
 body remembers Wells. Mr Harrington 
 had forgotten to take a pitchpipe with him to 
 the place of worship, and there was accident- 
 ally no instrument of any kind present. He 
 was therefore obliged to trust to his ear or 
 rather to his fortune for the pitch of the 
 leading note. The fourth note in the tune
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 1 1 
 
 of Wells happens to be an octave above the 
 first. Unluckily, Mr Harrington seized 
 upon a pitch better adapted to this fourth 
 note than to the first. The consequence 
 was, that in leading off the tune, to the words 
 of ' Life is the time,' he executed the three 
 first notes with considerable correctness, 
 though with not a little straining, but in 
 attempting to pronounce the word time, he 
 found that nature had failed to accommodate 
 his voice with a sound sufficiently high for 
 the purpose. The rest of the tenor voices 
 were surprised into the same consciousness. 
 Here then he was brought to an absolute 
 stand, and with him, the whole choir, with 
 the exception of two or three of the most 
 ardent singers of the bass and treble, whose 
 enthusiasm and earnestness carried them 
 forward nearly through the first line, before 
 they perceived the calamity which had be- 
 fallen their head-quarters. They now re- 
 luctantly suffered their voices one after an- 
 other to drop away, and a dead silence of a 
 moment ensued. Mr Harrington began
 
 12 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 again, with a somewhat lower pitch of voice, 
 and with stepping his feet a little back, as if 
 to leap forward to some imaginary point ; but 
 still with no greater success. A similar 
 catastrophe to the former, awaited this sec- 
 ond attempt. The true sound for the word 
 time, still remained far beyond the utmost 
 reach of his falsetto. In his third effort, he 
 was more fortunate, since he hit upon a 
 leading note, which brought the execution 
 of the whole tune just within the compass of 
 possibility, and the entire six verses were 
 discussed with much spirit and harmony. 
 When the hymn was finished, the leader and 
 several of his more intimate acquaintances 
 exchanged nods and smiles with each other, 
 compounded of mortification and triumph 
 mortification at the mistakes with which the 
 singing had begun, and triumph at the spirit- 
 ed manner in which it was carried on and 
 concluded. This foolish and wicked prac- 
 tice is indulged in too many choirs, by some 
 of the leading singers, who ought to set a 
 better example to their fellow choristers, and
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 13 
 
 compose themselves into other than giggling 
 and winking frames of mind, at the moment 
 when a whole congregation are about to rise 
 or kneel in a solemn act of praise and 
 prayer. 
 
 The greater part of the interval between 
 the first and second singing, which was 
 occupied by the minister and the devout 
 portion of his hearers in a high and solemn 
 communion with the Deity, was devoted by 
 Mr Harrington and his associates above- 
 mentioned, to turning over the leaves of the 
 Village Harmony, and making a conditional 
 choice of the tune next to be performed, 
 according to the metre of the hymn which 
 might be read. When the time arrived for 
 their second performance, although Mr 
 Harrington was more happy than before, in 
 catching the true key-note of the air, yet, 
 either from some deficiency of science in 
 himself, or from a misapprehension on the 
 part of those who sang bass, this important 
 department of the choir began the hymn with 
 a note which happened to be the most dis-
 
 14 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 cordant of the whole scale. The consequence 
 was dreadful to every one within hearing, 
 who was afflicted with a good ear. Our 
 Coryphaeus interposed his authority to pro- 
 duce silence, by emitting through his teeth 
 a loud and protracted hush ! After some 
 little difficulty, they succeeded in starting 
 fairly, and carried on the performance with 
 due harmony of tones. 
 
 In the afternoon, Mr Harrington was at 
 his post as settled leader of the choir. It is 
 true that he found himself surrounded by 
 only about half the number of assistants, who 
 had attended the commencement of his vocal 
 career in the morning. But no one had 
 ventured to insinuate to him his incompeten- 
 cy, and several of the singers charitably 
 ascribed his mistakes to the accidental ab- 
 sence of the pitchpipe, and to the modest 
 trepidation which naturally arose from his 
 first appearance. His principal mistake on 
 the latter part of the day, was that of select- 
 ing a common metre tune which ought to 
 have been one in long metre. He perceiv-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 15 
 
 ed not his error, until he arrived at the end 
 of the second line, when, finding that he had 
 yet two more syllables to render into music, 
 he at first attempted to eke out the air by a 
 kind of flourish of his own, in a suppressed 
 and hesitating voice. But he was soon 
 convinced that this would never do. Had 
 he been entirely alone, he might in this way 
 have carried the hymn through, trusting to 
 his own musical resources and invention. 
 But it was out of his power to inspire the 
 other singers with the foreknowledge of the 
 exact notes which his genius might devise 
 and append to every second line. They, 
 too, must try their skill to the same purpose, 
 and while the whole choir, tenor, bass, and 
 treble, were each endeavoring to eke out the 
 line with their own efforts and happy flour- 
 ishes, a tremendous clash of discord and 
 chaos of uncertainty involved both the lead- 
 ers and the led together. There was noth- 
 ing in this dilemma, therefore, for him to do, 
 except to stop short at once, and select a 
 new tune. This he did with much prompt-
 
 16 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ness and apparent composure, though, that 
 there was some little flutter in his bosom, 
 was evident from the circumstance that the 
 tune he again pitched upon, contrary to all 
 rules in the course of a single Sabbath, was 
 Wells, which, however, went off with much 
 propriety, and with none of the interruptions 
 that had marred its performance in the 
 morning. 
 
 There are many of the thorough-bred sons 
 of New Kngland, whose perseverance it takes 
 much greater discouragements to daunt than 
 befel the precentorial efforts of Mr Ebed 
 Harrington on this memorable day. He re- 
 garded himself now as the fully instated lead- 
 er of the choir in Waterfield ; a function 
 which he inflexibly maintained, through good 
 report and through evil report, sometimes 
 amidst almost entire desertion, and at other 
 times with a very respectable band to follow 
 his guidance until his professional studies 
 were completed, and he himself removed from 
 the neighbourhood, to plunge into some of the 
 newly settled territories for an establishment,
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 17 
 
 and introduce, perchance, the arts of healing 
 and melody together. I have never heard 
 one word of his destination or subsequent 
 success. 
 
 The musical concerns of our parish were 
 not involved in the same embarrassment after 
 his departure, as after that of his predeces- 
 sor. Young Williams had now increased in 
 years, skill, and confidence. Nature had 
 destined him to be a passionate votary of 
 music. He was scarcely out of mere boy- 
 hood, before he grasped the violoncello or, 
 as we term it in New England, the bass-viol 
 with a kind of preternatural adroitness, and 
 clung to it with a devoted and ardent perse- 
 verance, which very soon rendered him an 
 accomplished performer. Every leisure hour, 
 every leisure moment he could seize, was 
 employed on this his favorite instrument. 
 The first ray of morning was welcomed by 
 the vibrations of its Memnonian strings. 
 Many a meal was cheerfully foregone, that 
 he might feed his ear and his soul with the 
 more ethereal food to which his desires tend-
 
 18 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 cd. Often too were his musical exercises 
 protracted far beyond midnight, to the annoy- 
 ance at first of his father's family, who soon 
 however, could sleep as well beneath the 
 sounds of the lad's violoncello, as if an JEolian 
 harp were soothingly ringing all night at their 
 windows. As he sat in the solitude of his 
 chamber, a solitude sweetened by his own 
 exquisite skill and the indulgence of his fond 
 taste, he regarded not the cold of winter and 
 not always the darkness of the night. He 
 speedily made himself master of his darling 
 science, as far as such an attainment was 
 possible from the introductions to all the com- 
 pilations of music within his reach, from 
 Dobson's Encyclopedia,* and from such 
 other appropriate books as the Waterfield 
 Social Library and Mr Welby's humble col- 
 lection of miscellaneous literature might sup- 
 ply. His performance was the admiration 
 of all the country round. His father's house 
 was frequently visited for the single purpose 
 
 * Dobson reprinted in Philadelphia the Encyclopedia 
 Britannica, referred to in the text.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 19 
 
 of witnessing the display of his uncommon 
 talents. Most willingly did he exhibit his 
 powers before the representative to Congress, 
 or Mr Welby and his family, or a bevy of 
 admiring girls, or a half dozen ragged chil- 
 dren, who were attracted from their plays in 
 the streets and the fields, to be soothed and 
 charmed and civilized into silence by our self- 
 taught Orpheus. Now, he would draw tears 
 from every eye by the tremulous and com- 
 plaining pathos of the string as he wound 
 through some mournful air. Now he would 
 make every soul burn, and every cheek glow 
 with lofty rapture as he executed the splen- 
 did movements of Washington's March, Belle- 
 isle March, Hail Columbia, or the much less 
 admirable, but equally popular Ode to Sci- 
 ence. Now, by a seemingly miraculous ra- 
 pidity and perfection of execution, he would 
 exert an irresistible power over the muscular 
 frames of his delighted auditors, putting their 
 feet and hands in motion as they sat before 
 him, and often rousing up the younger indi- 
 viduals who were present to an unbidden, 
 
 .
 
 20 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 spontaneous dance, to the tune of l The Girl I 
 left behind me,' the ' Devil's Dream,' or an 
 equally magical and inspiring combination of 
 notes that extemporaneously flowed into his 
 own mind on the occasion. During all these 
 scenes, his own fair countenance was rarely 
 ever observed to alter in the least from a cer- 
 tain composed, though elevated and steadfast 
 abstraction. Occasionally, however, the oc- 
 currence of a plaintive strain would throw a 
 kind of compassionate softness into his looks, 
 and some sublime movement of melody or 
 new combination of harmony would fill his 
 rolling eye with tears. The motion of his 
 arm and the posture of his body were indes- 
 cribably graceful. To some persons of ex- 
 travagant fancy, he seemed, while playing 
 upon bis noble instrument, to be sitting on a 
 cloud, that was wafting him about in the at- 
 mosphere of sounds which he created. Some- 
 times the viol and the bow appeared to be 
 portions of himself, which he handled with 
 the same dexterity that nature teaches the 
 soul to exert over its own body. Sometime?
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 21 
 
 again you would imagine him in love with the 
 instrument, as if he had no other mistress in 
 the world to fix his serious and impassioned 
 looks upon, and be agitated by her enchant- 
 ments. For several minutes he would lay 
 his ear down near the strings, and then 
 throw his body far back, and his eye upward, 
 while, in this new position, his head kept 
 time with a gentle motion, and with a sort 
 of unconcious ease. He never refused to 
 play the most common or indifferent air ; a 
 circumstance, that resulted partly from his 
 good nature, which would not suffer him to 
 be fastidious or disobliging, and partly from 
 his own concious ability to make music out 
 of a tune, which of itself had small preten- 
 sions. Indeed he was one of those few per- 
 formers, who array in a new and peculiar 
 dress every piece which they attempt to ex- 
 ecute. Written notes before him were but 
 a skeleton, which he not merely clothed with 
 a body and animated with a life, but into 
 which he infused a soul and an inspiration 
 that none but the rarest geniuses on earth 
 can cause to exist.
 
 22 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 Such was the temporary successor to Mr, 
 or now, more properly speaking, Dr Ebed 
 Harrington in the government of the sacred 
 choir at Waterfield. Charles Williams, as 
 I have before observed, was as yet too 
 young to take the lead in the melodious de- 
 partment of public worship, when that inter- 
 esting and uncouth personage came to reside 
 in the village. But it is very questionable 
 whether the pretensions of the latter to his 
 honorable office in the gallery would ever 
 have been submitted to during the two years 
 that he remained, had he been destitute of 
 the assistance rendered him by the musical 
 young Crispin whom I have just introduced to 
 my readers. Charles had been almost con- 
 stantly at his post as leader of the bass, and 
 performer on the violoncello. Sometimes, 
 indeed, on a fine Sunday morning, late in 
 May, or perhaps in midsummer, or early in 
 October, he would take his instrument, and 
 steal alone and unperceived to some retreat 
 about two miles from the village. Here our 
 truant genius would seat himself beneath an 

 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 23 
 
 oak, and try the effect of mingling the audi- 
 ble sounds of his viol with the felt harmony 
 of sunshine, breeze, and shade ; interrupting 
 for a moment or two the chirp of the squirrel 
 and the Greek talk* of the blackbird, but 
 then again stimulating them to a more violent 
 little concert in company with his own instru- 
 ment, and the long ringing note of the grass- 
 hopper, as it hung suspended and motionless 
 over the ground, amidst the calm glare of a 
 burning sun. The delicious enjoyment af- 
 forded him by such occasions as these would 
 have tempted him to very frequent indulgen- 
 ces of the kind, had not the music in the 
 meetinghouse suffered so much from his ab- 
 sence, and had he not been aware that such 
 conduct was the cause of considerable un- 
 easiness and half-reproachful regret among a 
 
 * What schoolboy has not listened with delighted as- 
 tonishment to the almost exact conjugation of some- 
 thing like a Greek verb, which the blackbird gives him 
 in its n^xa', SI-SAW, Trt-f.wJ. .' Which of the winged 
 tribe has a better itlc to Mr Gray's compliment of 
 ; Attic warbler ? '
 
 24 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 large portion of the congregation. Blessed 
 influence of Christian institutions, and of 
 the severe forma of social life, that check 
 the movements of selfishness and eccen- 
 tricity, and recal the thoughtless wanderer 
 back to the course of duty ! Who can 
 complain at the comparatively slight sacri- 
 fices which they enjoin, and at the contribu- 
 tion to the common stock of happiness which 
 they demand, in return for the protection, 
 the field of exertion, the inexhaustible sour- 
 ces of enjoyment, and the paths to the attain- 
 ment of every species of individual excellence 
 which they so abundantly furnish ? 
 
 On the elevation of Charles Williams to 
 the seat of leader of the choir, new life was 
 infused into the whole vocal company. 
 Years had done something for him since the 
 period at which our history commences, but 
 experience and the opening native energy of 
 his mind had done much more. Implicit 
 confidence was now reposed in his skill and 
 management even by the shyest member of 
 the choir. He had occasionally supplied the
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 25 
 
 accidental absence of Mr Harrington, and 
 had been constantly consulted by that gen- 
 man with peculiar deference in all the busi- 
 ness, and mystery, and apparatus, incident 
 to the due administration of his office. It 
 was even whispered round in the singing 
 pews, that Charles had often been happily 
 instrumental in correcting or preventing sev- 
 eral blunders on the part of his superior, not 
 unlike those which I before recorded as dis- 
 tinguishing the outset of that gentleman's 
 career. 
 
 With such qualifications, and such a repu- 
 tation, Mr Williams entered upon his dig- 
 nities with the highest spirit and the best 
 prospects of success. The choir was in- 
 stantly replenished by all the old deserters 
 and by many new recruits. Singing meet- 
 ings were appointed in private houses on 
 two or three evenings of each week for the 
 purpose of practice and improvement. A 
 large supply of the (then) last edition of the 
 Village Harmony was procured, and the 
 stock of good pieces, which all might famil- 
 3
 
 26 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 iarly sing, was enlarged. The whole num- 
 ber of performers was about fifty. This was 
 one of those happy and brilliant periods 
 which all our New England churches occa- 
 sionally enjoy for a longer or shorter term in 
 the musical department of the sacred exer- 
 cises. I will not contend that the psalms 
 now went off with much science or express- 
 ion. Charles Williams was fully equal to 
 the task of infusing the best possible taste 
 in these respects into the choir which he led. 
 But he wisely felt that his authority did not 
 extend quite so far at present as to warrant 
 the attempt to introduce among them any 
 nice innovations on the oldfashioned manner 
 of vocal performance. He was not their 
 teacher in the art. He was only one of 
 themselves, and all he could expect to do, 
 was to yield himself to the general stream 
 of musical taste and prejudice, with the ex- 
 ception of such little improvements as he 
 hoped to effect by his sole example, or the 
 communication of his ideas in private to 
 some particular friends. He accordingly
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR 27 
 
 began and executed the most galloping fu- 
 gues and the most unexpressive airs with the 
 same spirit and alacrity that he would have 
 expended on the divinest strains of sacred 
 music. 
 
 Notwithstanding, however, these slight 
 unavoidable deficiencies, the present was, 
 as I observed, a bright and happy period in 
 the meetinghouse at Waterfield. There \vas 
 a full choir. It was punctual in its attend- 
 ance at church. The singing, though a lit- 
 tle noisy, was at least generally correct in 
 time and tone. A new anthem was gotten 
 up at the recurrence of each Fast and 
 Thanksgiving Day, and funeral anthems were 
 sung on the Sabbath that immediatly suc- 
 ceeded any interment in the parish. There 
 are few who will not acknowledge the luxury 
 of such a state of things, when compared 
 with the necessity of enduring, Sabbath after 
 Sabbath, a feeble, poor, discordant band of 
 singers, or listening to the performance of 
 two or three scattered individuals among the 
 congregation, who go through their duty with
 
 28 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 reluctance, and seem not so much to be sing- 
 ing praises, as offering up substitutes and 
 apologies. 
 
 Far different from such a picture were the 
 achievements of our renovated choir. Every 
 tune which they performed seemed to be a 
 triumph over the preceding. Charles Wil- 
 liams was so much in his element that he in- 
 spired all around him with the same feeling. 
 
 It is true, there were some peculiarities 
 in the manners and customs of the choir, to 
 which a fastidious stranger might object. In 
 warm weather, Charles assumed the liberty 
 of laying aside his coat, and exhibiting the 
 perfection to which his sisters could bleach 
 his linen, in which practice he was support- 
 ed by about half the men-singers present. 
 Another exceptionable habit prevailed among 
 us. As soon as the hymn was read, and 
 those ominous preluding notes distributed 
 round, which come before the performance 
 of a psalm-tune like scattering drops before 
 a shower, that portion of the band, which 
 sat in front of the gallery, suddenly arose,
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 29 
 
 wheeled their backs round to the audience 
 below, and commenced operations with all 
 possible earnestness and ardour. Thus the 
 only part of the congregation which they 
 faced, consisted of those, who sat in the 
 range of pews, that ran along behind the 
 singing seats. 
 
 It was somewhat unnecessary, moreover, 
 that each individual performer should beat 
 time on his own account. But this was a 
 habit of inveterate standing in the church, 
 which nothing short of the omnipotent voice 
 of fashion could be hoped to frighten away. 
 That voice was not yet heard to this effect 
 in the singing gallery at Waterfield. But it 
 would have cost many an occupant there a 
 pang to resign the privilege of this little dis- 
 play. Let Mr D'Israeli and the editor of 
 Blackvvood's Magazine inspect the disposi- 
 tions of men in their hand-writing. But as 
 a school for the study of character, give tne 
 a choir of singers, who are in the habit of 
 beating time, each for himself. How could 
 the most superficial observer mistake these
 
 30 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 characteristic symptoms ? Here and there 
 you might see a hand ostentatiously and un- 
 shrinkingly lifted above all surrounding heads 
 like the sublime and regular recurrence of a 
 windmill's wings. Some performers there 
 were, who studied an inexpressible and inim- 
 itable grace in every modification of motion 
 to which they subjected their finger-joints, 
 wrists, elbows, shoulders, and bodies. Some 
 tossed the limb up and down with an ener- 
 gy that seemed to be resenting an affront. 
 Others were so gentle in their vibrations, 
 that they appeared afraid of disturbing the 
 serenity of the circumambient air. Some 
 hands swept a full segment of one hundred 
 and eighty degrees ; others scarcely ad- 
 vanced farther than the minute-hand of a 
 stop-watch at a single pulsation. The young 
 student at law, the merchant's clerk, and a 
 few others, whom fortune had exempted from 
 the primeval malediction of personal toil, 
 were at once recognised by the easy free- 
 dom with which they waved a hand that no 
 sun had browned and the contact of no ag-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ricultural implement had roughened. If, 
 as we have seen, some of the singers were 
 ostentatious in wielding an arm to its full ex- 
 tent, others were equally ostentatious in 
 using only a finger, or a thumb and middle 
 finger joined. To the honor of the choir, 
 however, be it said, that there were several 
 of its members, who performed the duty, 
 which was then customary, of beating time, 
 without any effort or affectation. It should 
 also be ascribed to nothing more than a sense 
 of propriety and laudable modesty, that a 
 great part of the female singers kept time 
 in no other way than by moving a forefinger 
 which hung down at their sides, and was 
 almost concealed amidst large folds of change- 
 able silk, or of glazed colored cotton cam- 
 bric. To this a few of them added a slight 
 motion of the head or body, while some of 
 the married ladies openly raised and lowered 
 their hands upon the hymn books from which 
 they sang. 
 
 In addition to the foregoing general im- 
 perfections, which prevented the congrega-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 tion at Waterfield from witnessing the beau 
 ideal of a sacred choir, it is to be lamented 
 that there were others, which resulted not 
 from common custom, but from individual 
 peculiarities. The taste and knowledge of 
 music, among all the performers, were far 
 from being uniform. While some sang with 
 great beauty of expression, and a nice ad- 
 justment to the sentiment of the happy mod- 
 ulations of a flexible voice, others made no 
 more distinction between the different notes 
 than did the printed singing book itself, or 
 any lifeless instrument that gives out the 
 tone required with the same strength and 
 the same unvaried uniformity on all occasions. 
 Nothing, too, could be rougher than the 
 Stentorian voice of Mr Broadbreast, and 
 nothing more piercing than the continued 
 shriek of the pale but enthusiastic Miss 
 Sixfoot. I shall not disclose the name of 
 the good man who annoyed us a little with 
 his ultra-nasal twang, nor of another, who, 
 whenever he took the true pitch, did so by 
 a happy accident ; nor of another, who had
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 33 
 
 an ungainly trick of catching his breath vio- 
 lently at every third note ; nor of several of 
 both sexes, whose pronunciation of many 
 words, particularly of hmo, now, &c. was 
 dreadfully rustic, and hardly to be expressed 
 on paper. Jonathan Oxgoad sang indeed 
 much too loud, but that could have been for- 
 given him, had he not perpetually forgotten 
 what verses were directed by the minister to 
 be omitted ; a neglect, which, before he 
 discovered his error, often led him half 
 through an interdicted verse, much to the 
 annoyance of the worthy pastor, the confus- 
 ion of his fellow singers, the vexation of the 
 congregation, and the amusement and grati- 
 fication of Jonathan's too goodnatured friends. 
 There was also a culpable neglect among 
 the male singers in providing themselves 
 with a sufficient number of hymn books. 
 That it was not so on the other side of the 
 choir, was partly owing to the delicate tact 
 of women, which never suffers them to vio- 
 late even the minor proprieties of time and 
 place, and partly to their greater attachment
 
 34 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 to religion. As, in our New England 
 churches, generally, we have no prayer 
 books to serve as a kind of endearing bond 
 between the public and domestic altar, the 
 vivid imagination and tender affection of the 
 female singer caused her to cherish her 
 hymn book in such a connexion. The more 
 rough, careless, and indifferent habits of our 
 own sex render us less attentive to these 
 sensible memorials for the heart. Accord- 
 ingly, in our choir, among the men, the pro- 
 portion of books was scarcely more than one 
 to four or five performers, so that you might 
 often hear some ardent and confident indi- 
 vidual, who was stationed too far from the 
 page to read distinctly, attempting to make 
 out the sentence from his own imagination, 
 or, when he despaired of achieving that aim, 
 filling up the line with uncouth and unheard- 
 of syllables, or with inarticulate sounds. It 
 is strange how some little inconveniences of 
 this kind will be borne for a long time with- 
 out an effort made for their remedy. It was 
 not avarice which caused this deficiency of
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 35 
 
 hymn hooks ; far from it ; it was only the 
 endurance of an old custom, which it occur- 
 red to no one to take the proper steps to 
 remove. Was it not thirty years that uncle 
 Toby threatened every day to oil the creak- 
 ing hinge that gave him so much anguish of 
 soul and threatened in vain ? 
 
 But I will no longer contemplate the sha- 
 dy points of my picture. On the whole, the 
 blemishes just described, were scarce ever 
 offensively perceptible, when compared with 
 the general merit with which the singing 
 was conducted and continued to improve for 
 the space of two or three years. Besides, 
 our supply of good music was equal or supe- 
 rior to the demand. Be it remembered, that 
 we were singing within wooden walls to the 
 edification of an American country congre- 
 gation, who sprang unmixed from Puritanical 
 ancestors, and not beneath the dome of an 
 European metropolitan cathedral. 
 
 It is impossible to look back without some 
 of the animation of triumph upon those 
 golden hours of my early manhood, when I
 
 36 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 stood among friends and acquaintances, and 
 we all started off with the keenest alacrity 
 in some favorite air, that made the roof of 
 our native church resound, and caused the 
 distant, though unfrequent traveller to pause 
 upon his way, for the purpose of more dis- 
 tinctly catching the swelling and dying 
 sounds that waved over the hills and rever- 
 berated from wood to wood. The grand and 
 rolling bass of Charles Williams's viol, be- 
 neath which the very floor was felt to trem- 
 ble, was surmounted by the strong, rich, and 
 exquisite tenor of his own matchless voice. 
 And oh ! at the turning of a fugue, when the 
 bass moved forward first, like the opening 
 fire of artillery, and the tenor advanced next 
 like a corps of grenadiers, and the treble 
 followed on with the brilliant execution of 
 infantry, and the trumpet counter shot by 
 the whole, with the speed of darting cavalry, 
 and then, when we all mingled in that battle 
 of harmony and melody, and mysteriously 
 fought our way through each verse with a 
 well ordered perplexity, that made the
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 37 
 
 audience wonder how we ever came out 
 exactly together, (which once in a while, 
 indeed, owing to some strange surprise or 
 lingering among the treble, we failed to do,) 
 the sensations that agitated me at those 
 moments, have rarely been equalled during 
 the monotonous pilgrimage of my life. 
 
 And yet, when I remember how little we 
 kept in view the main and real object of 
 sacred music when I think how much we 
 sang to the praise and honor and glory of 
 our inflated selves alone when I reflect 
 that the majority of us absolutely did not 
 intend that any other ear in the universe 
 should listen to our performances, save those 
 of the admiring human audience below and 
 around us I am inclined to feel more shame 
 and regret than pleasure at these youthful 
 recollections, and must now be permitted to 
 indulge for a few pages in a more serious 
 strain. 
 
 How large and dreadful is the account 
 against numberless ostensible Christian wor- 
 shippers in this respect ! And how decisive 
 4
 
 38 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 might be the triumph of the Roman Catho- 
 lics over Protestants, if they chose to urge 
 it in this quarter ! They might demand of 
 us, what we have gained by greater sim- 
 plicity and abstractness of forms. They 
 might ask, whether it is not equally abomin- 
 able in the sight of Jehovah, that music 
 should be abused in his sanctuary, as that 
 pictures and images should be perverted 
 : from their original design ? For my part, I 
 conscientiously think that there is more piety, 
 more of the spirit of true religion, in the 
 idolatry which kneels in mistaken, though 
 heartfelt gratitude to a sculptured image, 
 than in the deliberate mockery which sends 
 up solemn sounds from thoughtless tongues. 
 How often does what is called sacred music, 
 administer only to the vanity of the perform- 
 er and the gratification of the hearer, who 
 thus, as it were, themselves inhale the in- 
 cense which they are solemnly wafting, 
 though they have full enough need that it 
 should ascend and find favour for them with 
 the Searcher of all Hearts !
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 39 
 
 This is a rock of temptation which the 
 Quakers have avoided ; in dispensing with 
 the inspiration of song, they at least shun its 
 abuses ; and if they really succeed in filling 
 their hour with intense religious meditation 
 and spiritual communion if, from their still 
 retreat, the waves of this boisterous world 
 are excluded, and send thither no disturbing 
 ripple if no calculations of interest, and 
 no sanguine plans are there prosecuted, and 
 no hopes, nor fears, nor regrets, nor 
 triumphs, nor recollections, nor any other 
 flowers that grow this side of the grave, are 
 gathered and pressed to the bosom, on the 
 margin of those quiet waters if, in short, 
 the very silence and vacancy of the scene 
 are not too much for the feeble heart of man, 
 which, if deprived of the stay of external 
 things, will either fall back on itself, or else 
 will rove to the world's end to expend its 
 restless activity in a field of chaotic imagi- 
 nations ; if, I say, the Quakers are so happy 
 as to escape these perils, together with the 
 seductions to vanitv and self-gratification
 
 40 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 which music and preaching present, then 
 must their worship, I think, be the purest of 
 all worship, and their absence of exterior 
 forms the very perfection of all forms. But, 
 let me ask of thee, my heart, whether thou 
 couldst fulfil the above severe conditions ? 
 Wouldst thou no longer obtrusively beat and 
 ache beneath the external serenity of a 
 Quaker's composed demeanour and unmodish 
 apparel, and voiceless celebration ? Thou 
 shrinkest from the trial, and art still convinc- 
 ed that the road in which thou canst best 
 be trained for Heaven, lies somewhere at an 
 equal distance between the bewildering mag- 
 nificence of the Romish ritual, and the bar- 
 ren simplicity of silent worship. 
 
 I have long doubted whether, in the pre- 
 vailing musical customs among our New 
 England Independent churches, there be not 
 something more unfavorable to the cause 
 and progress of pure devotion, than can be 
 charged against many other popular denomi- 
 nations. The Methodist, and the strict 
 Presbyterian, have no separate choirs. They
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 41 
 
 have not yet succeeded so far in the division 
 of spiritual labour, as to delegate to others 
 the business of praise, or to worship God by 
 proxy. 1 have often witnessed a congrega- 
 tion of one thousand Methodists, as they rose 
 simultaneously from their seats, and follow- 
 ing the officiating minister, who gave out 
 the hymn in portions of two lines, joined all 
 together in some simple air, which express- 
 ed the very soul of natural music. I could 
 see no lips closed as far as I could direct 
 my vision, nor could I hear one note of dis- 
 cord uttered. Was it that the heartiness 
 and earnestness which animated the whole 
 throng, inspired even each tuneless individu- 
 al with powers not usually his own, and 
 sympathetically dragged into the general 
 stream of harmony, those voices which were 
 not guided by a musical ear ? or was it, that 
 the overwhelming majority of good voices, 
 such as, I presume, if exerted, would pre- 
 vail in every congregation, drowned the im 
 perfect tones, and the occasional inaccura- 
 cies of execution, which most probably ex- 
 4*
 
 42 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 isted ? It did not offend me that they sang 
 with all their might, and all their soul, and 
 all their strength ; for it was evident that 
 they sang with all their heart. I was con- 
 scious of hearing only one grand and rolling 
 volume of sound, which swallowed up minor 
 asperities and individual peculiarities. This 
 was particularly the case after two or three 
 verses were sung, when the congregation 
 had been wrought into a kind of movement 
 of inspiration. Then the strains came to 
 my ear with the sublimity of a rushing 
 mighty torrent, and with an added beauty 
 of melody that the waters cannot give. 
 The language was still distinctly intelli- 
 gible, and the time perfectly preserved. 
 And although, when I retired from the scene, 
 I could not say how expressively this choris- 
 ter had sung, nor how exquisitely the other 
 had trilled, nor could compliment a single 
 lady on her golden tones, nor criticise the 
 fine science of the counterpoint, yet I felt 
 that I had been thrilled and affected in a 
 better way, and could not but wish that what
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 43 
 
 was really to be approved of among the 
 Methodists, might be imitated in those hap- 
 pier churches, where religion is cultivated 
 without protracting her orgies into midnight, 
 and cordially embraced without the necessity 
 of delirious screams, and apoplectic swoons. 
 Perhaps it may be thought that the good 
 old Presbyterian way of accompanying a 
 clerk, or precentor, who is stationed beneath 
 the pulpit, in front of the congregation, will 
 most generally secure the true spirit and 
 perfection of sacred music. Born and nur- 
 tured an Independent as I am, I confess that 
 I sometimes feel inclined to the adoption of 
 this opinion, with a few additions and modi- 
 fications. There is certainly an advantage 
 in imposing upon a single individual the 
 business of leading the melodious part of 
 public devotion. It must necessarily con- 
 strain the congregation to unite their voices 
 with his, unless they -are totally lost to all 
 sense of the proprieties of the sanctuary. 
 This custom, moreover, must exclude those 
 miserable feuds and other sources of inter-
 
 44 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ruption, which will always to a greater or 
 less degree disturb a separately constituted 
 choir. 
 
 But in conceding thus much to the chil- 
 dren of the Westminster Assembly, I would 
 beg leave to be strenuous in insisting upon a 
 recommendation that may appear very strange 
 as coming from a disciple of John Robinson. 
 I cannot find it in my soul to dispense with the 
 glorious majesty of sound with which an or- 
 gan fills the house of prayer. In the tones 
 of this sublime trophy of human skill, there 
 is something that wondrously accords with 
 the sentiment of piety. We know that 
 martial bravery, love, joy, and other feelings 
 of our nature, have each their peculiar and 
 stirring instruments of sound. The connex- 
 ion between religion and the organ, too, is 
 something more than fanciful. Who has not 
 felt at once inspired and subdued by the 
 voice issuing from that gilded little sanctuary, 
 which towers in architectural elegance over 
 the solemn assembly below, and seems to en- 
 ^hrine the presiding genius of devotional 
 praise ?
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 45 
 
 I am aware that even the united aid of a 
 precentor and organ are insufficient to check 
 certain tendencies to the decline of good sing- 
 ing, which may insidiously creep into a whole 
 musical congregation with the lapse of time. 
 Tunes, it may be said, grow old, and weary 
 the ear ; wretched voices may prevail over 
 the better sort ; in one pew, a worshipper 
 may always sing the tenor part in a voice of 
 the deepest bass ; in another pew, every 
 psalm may be screamed through with one 
 whole note out of the way ; a devotion like 
 that of the Methodists, which often seems to 
 make them sing decently in spite of them- 
 selves, must not be expected to continue 
 long ; a fashion of indifference towards this 
 department of worship may arise and prevail ; 
 and especially, the extensive cultivation of 
 secular music in private families may render 
 very many ears so fastidious, as absolutely 
 to frustrate the object of sacred music at 
 church, since the tasteless and indiscriminate 
 clamour necessarily produced by the voices 
 of a mixed congregation, must tend to excite
 
 46 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 in the more refined classes a disgusted and 
 indevout spirit, rather than the sweet and 
 lofty aspirations of choral praise. On all 
 these accounts, it may possibly be argued, 
 that our later ancestors have done well in 
 withdrawing from the general congregation 
 the performance of this service, and assign- 
 ing it to a select choir, who, by concentrating 
 their efforts, and reducing the matter to 
 something of a profession, may keep the 
 stream of sacred song at least pure, though 
 small. 
 
 Nearly all the above sinister tendencies, 
 however, might, I apprehend, be counteracted 
 by the application of a little care and system. 
 To prevent the repetition of old tunes from 
 palling on the ear, a new one might occasion- 
 ally be introduced by the clerk, and sung 
 every Sabbath until the congregation were 
 familiar with it. The affliction caused by 
 bad voices might be disposed of by the ap- 
 pointment of a musical censor, or standing 
 committee, whose duty it should be, to ex- 
 ercise now and then an act of delicate au-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 47 
 
 thority, acquainting the well-meaning offend- 
 ers with the fact of their vocal disability, and 
 requesting from them in future an edifying 
 silence. As to the decay of devotion, and 
 the increase of indifference among a congre- 
 gation, these appear to me to be far from 
 good reasons for establishing a separate 
 choir, and are rather proofs that such a choir 
 will effect no sort of good. With respect to 
 the last evil which a select choir is suppos- 
 ed to avoid, the fastidiousness occasioned by 
 the private and profane cultivation of music- 
 al taste, I know not why a whole congrega- 
 tion, or at least all the efficient voices in it, 
 may not be systematically taught good church 
 music, and the best and purest taste be made 
 general among them. 
 
 But I will candidly allow that some of 
 these schemes of improvement are rather 
 visionary than practical. Sitting at home in 
 one's office, one can easily devise remedies 
 for existing social defects, but in attempting 
 to put them into execution, the science of 
 human nature is found to be ten times more
 
 48 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 embarrassing than hydrostatics itself. Some 
 obstinate pressure from an unsuspected quar- 
 ter may burst over the feeble mounds which 
 we are fondly erecting about an imaginary 
 reservoir of beauty and tranquillity. It is a 
 very enchanting employment of the mind to 
 draw sketches of a kind of abstract congre- 
 gation, where every one present joins in the 
 prayer, and listens profitably to the sermon, 
 and keeps constantly awake, and takes de- 
 vout part in the psalmody, and where no eye 
 is suffered to wander, nor attention to flag, 
 nor worldly dreams to intrude. But where 
 is there such a congregation on earth ? And 
 would even a Handel succeed in tutoring a 
 mixed audience into a celestial choir of 
 angels ? On these accounts, I am not dis- 
 posed to push my censures or my native 
 communion too far. Perhaps novelty and 
 imagination have done a little in recom- 
 mending to me the practices of other church- 
 es, and if I were familiar with the whole 
 history of their musical condition, I might 
 tell as many strange stories of them, as I
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 49 
 
 am rehearsing of my own. I am not suffi- 
 ciently read in Puritanical antiquarianism 
 to know whether the Independents once re- 
 sembled the Presbyterians in the mode of 
 conducting sacred music, and afterwards 
 found it necessary in the course of time to 
 institute distinct choirs, or whether they on 
 purpose instituted a custom diametrically 
 opposite to that of their rival sectaries, after 
 the fashion in which these last had themselves 
 abolished surplices and organs. Neal is si- 
 lent on these curious points. If one may 
 judge from some merry traditions prevalent 
 in New England, our good forefathers had 
 no choirs, but sang under the dictation of 
 one and sometimes two lines at a time from 
 the minister or a clerk. Most of us have 
 heard of singular divisions to which poor 
 Sternhold and Hopkins were subjected by 
 this custom. Thus, 
 
 " The Lord will come, and he will not 
 Keep silence, but speak out, " 
 
 used to make perplexing sense to the pil- 
 grims, when given out to them by a line at 
 5
 
 50 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 a time ; for that such was the manner of 
 uttering it, I have understood from a clergy- 
 man who learned it at a Massachusetts Con- 
 vention dinner twenty years ago, where the 
 
 agreeable and Orthodox Dr set the 
 
 table in a roar by relating the anecdote. 
 It is probable, then, that experience and ne- 
 cessity in the lapse of time have forced upon 
 our congregations the present universal cus- 
 tom of assigning to a few individuals the task 
 of leading the praises in public worship. It 
 might now be dangerous, or rather impracti- 
 ble, to introduce a reformation. If imper- 
 fections exist, perhaps they are a choice of 
 the least. Yet still it were to be wished 
 that the choir might not be regarded, so 
 much as it is, the sole medium through 
 which this portion of worship is offered. It 
 were to be wished that our audiences would 
 consider that body as leaders only, not per- 
 formers ; to be followed and accompanied, 
 not to be listened to for luxurious gratifica- 
 tion, or fastidious criticism, or as an eked 
 out variety of the tedious business of a Sun-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 51 
 
 day. I can conceive that a choir, if proper- 
 ly instituted and administered, might be ex- 
 ceedingly useful in extending and preserving 
 a true tone of taste, in keeping up a good 
 selection of sacred music, and in acting, so 
 to speak, as the teachers of the congrega- 
 tion, in these and kindred respects. But in 
 the very duty thus prescribed them lies their 
 deplorable danger and temptation. They 
 are unavoidably liable, as was above intimat- 
 ed, to resolve the matter into a mere pro- 
 fession. In the study of sacred music as a 
 science, and the cultivation of it as an art, 
 they forget its ultimate object. Nor could 
 much else be expected from the narrowness 
 of the human mind. Must it not be hard to 
 attend to the thousand little circumstances 
 which a skilful performance requires, and at 
 the same time to keep the heart strained up 
 to a pitch of due devotion ? And on the 
 supposition that by practice and habit we can 
 acquire a perfect familiarity with the pieces 
 to be performed, and a mutual confidence 
 can be obtained among all the members of
 
 52 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 the choir ; yet, alas, it is in the very process 
 of cultivating this practice and habit, that 
 the spirit of devotion is apt to evaporate, 
 and to leave us admirable performers rather 
 than cordial worshippers. 
 
 This state of things, moreover, has its 
 temptations for the audience at large. The 
 more beautiful the music, the greater is their 
 inclination to listen and admire, rather than 
 to bear a part. It seems a kind of sacrilege 
 to let my indifferent voice break in upon the 
 divine strains which are charming my ear. 
 But the real sacrilege is in my refraining 
 from the duty. Probably, about the most 
 perfect and affecting sacred music in this 
 country is that at the Andover Theological 
 Seminary. Yet who, in listening to the ex- 
 quisite anthem sung at the anniversary of 
 that institution, does not find himself uncon- 
 sciously betrayed into an earthly ecstacy of 
 weeping admiration, in which, on analysis, 
 he is surprised and ashamed to find that mere 
 religion has but little, if any share ?
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 53 
 
 Such always have been and always will 
 be the dangers resulting from the conversion 
 of taste and the arts into handmaids of reli- 
 gion. Perpetual efforts are requisite to keep 
 them from becoming her mistresses at last. 
 I appeal to the consciences of hundreds of 
 congregations, who are in the habit of sitting. 
 Sabbath after Sabbath, with Epicurean com- 
 placency, and silently listening to the music 
 above them, as to a gratuitous and pleasant 
 entertainment. I appeal with more confi- 
 dence to the consciences of a thousand choirs, 
 who are engrossed in the anxious business of 
 carrying a psalm off well, and are distracted 
 with numerous likings and antipathies about 
 different tunes, whether they do not common- 
 ly feel cut off, as by a kind of professional 
 fence, from the devotional sympathies and 
 sacred engagements of the congregation in 
 general. Sharing no active or conspicuous 
 part in the other services, but so very active 
 and conspicuous a part in one, is it not the 
 case, that they take little, if any interest in 
 the former, and regard them rather in the 
 5*
 
 54 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 light of a foil to set off their own paramount 
 achievements, than as a votive wreath, into 
 which it is their privilege, duty, and felicity, 
 to weave an humble flower ? 
 
 Sorry I am to acknowledge that such were 
 the predominant feelings in the choir at Wat- 
 erfield at that point of time in its history 
 from which I have been led insensibly so far 
 away by a dull train of digressive reflections. 
 It is impossible to say how much of this de- 
 fective sentiment may have been owing to 
 the circumstance of our leader being a gay 
 and rather inconsiderate young man, whom 
 the whole of us were constrained to admire 
 for his musical excellence and many parts of 
 his private character. Certain it is, that 
 Charles Williams had no other holier aspira- 
 tion or thought at that time than to acquit 
 himself with applause as the chief of a vocal 
 company. In every other respect, his exam- 
 ple would scarcely be recommended on the 
 score of seriousness or piety. A little knot 
 of whisperers was often gathered round him 
 during both the prayer and the delivery of
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 55 
 
 the sermon, who began, perhaps, with dis- 
 cussing some points connected with the com- 
 mon business of the choir, but generally suf- 
 fered the conversation to stray among still 
 less appropriate and less excusable topics, 
 until the occurrence of a jest or witticism 
 from Charles betrayed them into something 
 more than a smile, and reduced them to the 
 necessity of separating from each other, in 
 order to escape violating the more obvious 
 decencies of the place. 
 
 Then again, it ought not to have been 
 Charles Williams, of all persons, who scrib- 
 bled with a lead pencil upon every blank 
 leaf of every hymn-book and singing-book 
 within his reach, filling them with grinning 
 caricatures, with ridiculous mottoes, and 
 with little messages to the adjoining pew, 
 some of the occupants of which would blush, 
 when they found themselves glancing with 
 greater eagerness at these irregular and un- 
 seasonable billets doux, than listening to more 
 edifying productions from the pulpit.
 
 56 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 And adieu to the composure of that fair 
 chorister for one morning at least, to whom 
 Charles Williams presented a bunch of dill, 
 a pleasant little herb, resembling caraway, 
 and common in the gardens of New England, 
 the taste of whose aromatic seeds often 
 serves in summer to beguile some forlorn 
 moments that will occur to many attendants 
 at the meetinghouses of this blessed land, as 
 well as elsewhere. Not that a gallant at- 
 tention of this kind from the hands of my 
 youthful hero occasioned sufficient perturba- 
 tion in the mind of the receiver to drown her 
 voice and prevent her from performing her 
 part in the musical services. On the con- 
 trary, such an incident generally had the ef- 
 fect of inspiring her with more than usual 
 animation, loudness, and expressiveness in 
 her singing, the cause of which could be con- 
 jectured by none save such as happened to 
 unite to an accidental observation a sagacious 
 philosophy. No other obvious symptoms of 
 agitation were allowed to escape her watch- 
 ful self-possession, except perhaps neglect-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 57 
 
 ing to keep her snow-white pocket-handker- 
 , chief folded up as neatly as usual by the 
 side of her hymn-book, and an inability to 
 recollect the text when she was examined 
 by her decrepit grandmother at home. 
 
 Nor were these favours on the part of our 
 leader, in general, very discriminating or 
 partial with respect to their objects. If 
 Charles's bass-viol could have enjoyed a 
 posy of dill, it would often, undoubtedly, 
 have been a successful rival of his more 
 conscious and susceptible mistresses for such 
 attentions. The time had not yet arrived, 
 for the tenderest of all passions to become 
 also, the most overwhelming and absorbing 
 in his soul. He had indeed too much con- 
 stitutional sensibility not to find on his hands 
 a succession of weekly or monthly idols of 
 his imagination ; but at the same time he 
 had too much juvenile carelessness and too 
 triumphant a presentiment of many exploits 
 yet to be achieved by his genius for music, 
 to allow any very deep and lasting impres- 
 sions on his heart. Music, praise, and
 
 58 THE VILLAGE CHOIR, 
 
 beauty, were to him equally intoxicating 
 subjects of contemplation ; he had not yet, 
 had enough of the first two, to admit of his 
 yielding himself entirely up to the influence 
 of the last. 
 
 From the few sketches I have already 
 given of the character of this young man, it 
 will not excite surprise in nay readers to 
 learn that his parents, his friends, and him- 
 self entertained the wish of changing his 
 present sphere and prospects in life. So 
 much notice had been taken of him in 
 various ways ; his general capacity and 
 activity were so conspicuous ; and there 
 was something about him so interesting, 
 apart from his eminence as a young musical 
 performer, that it seemed to be almost a 
 defiance of Providence, to confine him to 
 the obscure profession of a sedentary me- 
 chanic. 
 
 I use not the word ignoble, nor any other 
 term of disparagement or contempt, as ap- 
 plicable to that vocation. I am too sturdy 
 an American for that. Happily, in our
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 59 
 
 country, we have scarcely a conception of 
 what the epithet ignoble signifies, except in 
 a purely moral point of view. The aristo- 
 cratical pride of Europe accounts for this, by 
 insisting, that we are all plebeians together, 
 and of course that distinctions of rank 
 among us are ridiculous. Our own pride, 
 of which we have our full share, accounts 
 for the circumstance on the opposite hypoth- 
 esis, that we are a nation of highborn noble- 
 men. But this is a poor dispute, about 
 names. The truth is, we are neither a 
 nation of noblemen nor plebeians. How can 
 such correlative terms be applied with any 
 shadow of correctness, when the very politi- 
 cal relations which they imply, do not exist ? 
 It is using a solecism to call Americans 
 plebeians, because to that class belongs the 
 conscious degradation of witnessing above 
 them, in the same body politic, an order of 
 men born to certain privileges of which they 
 are destitute by birth themselves. And for 
 a similar reason, it is equally a solecism to 
 regard ourselves, even metaphorically, as 
 noblemen.
 
 60 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 Why then did Charles Williams and his 
 friends desire him to emerge from the calling 
 in which his youth had been passed ? Oh, 
 we Americans have our preferences. We 
 think it an innocent and a convenient thing 
 to draw arbitrary lines of distinction between 
 different professions ; otherwise, the circle 
 of one man's acquaintance would often be 
 oppressively large. It is a pleasant employ- 
 ment, too, to clamber over these distinctions 
 in life. Perhaps there is not a country in 
 the world, where professions are so often 
 changed as in America. We are restless 
 and proud, and since our civil institutions 
 have established no permanent artificial gra- 
 dations among us, we have devised them 
 ourselves. Yet still it is a matter which we 
 act upon, rather than talk about. No 
 American lady would dare to refuse her 
 neighbour's invitation professedly on the 
 score of the other being beneath her in 
 society. Yet her refusal would be as 
 prompt and decided as any lady's in England, 
 towards an inferior in rank.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 61 
 
 I do not wish to analyze too minutely, the 
 aristocratical leaven among us. I do not 
 exactly understand its principle of operation 
 myself. Pedigree it certainly is not, though 
 that perhaps is one of its elements. Wealth 
 and education have something to do with it. 
 Different vocations in life, have much more. 
 Various degress of softness and whiteness 
 of the hands, are perhaps as good criterions 
 as any thing. Certain sets of persons do 
 somehow contrive to obtain an ascendan- 
 cy in every town and village. But in the 
 present state of society in our country, 
 this whole subject is extremely unsettled. 
 The mass is fermenting, and how the process 
 will result eventually, time only can decide. 
 Probably some future court calendar will 
 rank among the first class of American 
 citizens, all families descended in lines, 
 more or less direct, from former presidents 
 of the nation, heads of departments, gov- 
 ernors of states, presidents of colleges, 
 Supreme Court judges, commodores, and 
 general officers. The second class may 
 6
 
 62 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 comprehend the posterity of members of 
 congress, circuit and state judges, clergy- 
 men, presidents of banks, professors in 
 colleges, captains of national vessels, 
 leaders of choirs, and perhaps some others. 
 I have no curiosity to speculate upon inferi- 
 or classes, nor to determine any further the 
 order in which far distant dinners shall be 
 approached by eaters yet unborn, or future 
 balls shall be arranged at Washington. 
 
 It is a difficult thing to say precisely, how 
 much my hero was actuated by mere ambi- 
 tion in his wish to change his course of life. 
 I do not think he despised his paternal em- 
 ployment. He had not much reason himself 
 to complain of the proud man's contumely, 
 in his own native village. But there were 
 two strong reasons besides those before 
 specified, which operated in his father's mind 
 to determine him on the project of dismissing 
 his son from his present occupation. One 
 was, that he was a very unprofitable appren- 
 tice. His passion for his favorite art 
 encroached too largely on his time. Around
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 63 
 
 of visits and frolics, to which his musical 
 and companionable qualities exposed him, 
 absorbed the latter portion of many an after- 
 noon in preparations of dress, and the form- 
 er part of many a morning in sleeping away 
 the effects of such expeditions. The other 
 reason was, that it seemed to be cruel to 
 confine the lad down to an employment, for 
 which he had no inclination, and even no 
 mechanical aptitude. There was little chance 
 of his ever procuring a generous livelihood 
 in that employment, and there were other 
 professions more suited to his excursive and 
 occasionally bookish disposition. These 
 would have been sufficient reasons for his 
 father to make the experiment of some other 
 course of life for his son, more conformable 
 to his taste and character, even if paternal 
 vanity had not whispered into his ear, that 
 his boy was born for very great things yet ! 
 In New England, before the imposition 
 of the embargo, and in times of peace, there 
 were two ways of rising very high in the 
 world. The one was, to become the clerk
 
 64 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 of some wholesale or retail merchant in 
 Boston, and the other, to pass through a 
 college. No aspiring lad throughout the 
 country could think of any other avenue to 
 distinction. Charles Williams was not a 
 lover of money or of trade. He was among 
 the very few youths of his native region, 
 who arrive at the age of thirteen without 
 bartering a pen-knife, or at that of nineteen 
 without cheating or being cheated in the 
 exchange of watches. Accordingly, though 
 he had a distant relative in Boston, who, 
 while yet a minor, had gone four times every 
 year to the market of that metropolis, with a 
 cart full of such assorted commodities as 
 were produced in his native town, and was 
 now one of the wealthiest merchants on the 
 Exchange, Charles obstinately shut his eyes 
 to the prospect of entering this gentleman's 
 counting-house. There was something in 
 literary pursuits much more congenial to 
 the taste and habits of his mind. 
 
 With all his follies and eccentricities, he 
 had a warm friend and admirer in the Rev.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 65 
 
 Mr Welby, who was for sending every young 
 man of the most ordinary capacity to college, 
 that had a soul sufficiently large even barely 
 to meditate on such a purpose. Not that 
 Mr Welby's object, exactly, was to swell 
 the list of liberally educated persons belong- 
 ing to the place where he was settled, when- 
 ever he should communicate to the Massa- 
 chusetts Historical Society, the topographi- 
 cal and antiquarian account of the town of 
 Waterfield. The propensity in question, 
 rather seemed to be with him a kind of 
 weakness, and one, too, with which many of 
 his profession in New England are afflicted. 
 Owing their own importance in life, and 
 their peculiar opportunities for usefulness to 
 their collegiate education, they have no idea 
 that any greater blessing under the skies 
 can be conferred on an unmarried man of 
 whatever talents, and at whatever age, than 
 causing him to leave the plough or the 
 workshop, and after a struggle of seven 
 years between the Latin dictionary and 
 despair, to obtain a degree. It is not sur-
 
 66 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 prising, therefore, that the warm-hearted Mr 
 Welby should offer to become Charles's gra- 
 tuitous instructor, in preparing him for col- 
 lege ; an offer which was gratefully ac- 
 cepted. 
 
 Although our hero was far from being so 
 apt a scholar in the niceties of the Greek 
 and Latin tongues, as we have already seen 
 him in the science of music, yet the novelty 
 and dignity of the pursuits which he had 
 now adopted, the definite object proposed 
 for him to accomplish, and the shame of 
 abandoning his aim in defeat, unitedly prompt- 
 ed him to undergo one or two years of pretty 
 severe application to study. During this 
 time, he was still a leader of the village choir, 
 though I cannot say that the partial change 
 in his private life and habits, operated in 
 correcting many of those reprehensible char- 
 acteristics, which I have before lamented as 
 derogatory to our singing-pew.* And al- 
 
 * I had some thoughts of describing a few of the ef- 
 fects which Charles's new mode of life, and new top- 
 ics of consciousness and reputation produced on his
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 67 
 
 though we had been long taught to anticipate 
 his departure, yet words can scarcely repre- 
 sent the sorrow and dismay with which we 
 bade him farewell on the Sabbath before his 
 setting off for Dartmouth College. 
 
 On the nest morning 1 at daybreak, a few 
 of us were at his father's threshold to shake 
 hands with him once more. He had already 
 breakfasted, a ad had mounted the horse 
 which was purchased for the occasion, to be 
 disposed of again on the best terms possible, 
 when he should have entered college. A 
 huge pair of saddlebags, the heir loom of his 
 family for several generations, hung across 
 the horse behind, and contained some chan- 
 ges of wearing apparel, together with his 
 books, and various articles of pastry for the 
 road, which he owed to the care of his sis- 
 behaviour in private company ; but the sketch might 
 clash a little with a picture of a young farmer fitting 
 for college, which now lies by me in an unfinished MS. 
 history of a country academy in New England, and 
 which may possibly hereafter be presented to the 
 public.
 
 68 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ters, and some of their female friends. He 
 had already repeated his salutations to his 
 moist-eyed family and acquaintances, and 
 was holding the reins in his left hand ready 
 to start, when, at a signal from him, I reach- 
 ed him his bass-viol, enclosed in a large 
 leathern case made by his good father, for 
 the purpose. He received it in his tremb- 
 ling right hand with a look, gleaming through 
 his agitated countenance, which seemed to 
 say, I leave not every friend behind, and 
 spurred off his horse up the margin of the 
 river. 
 
 ' And who was the next leader of the 
 choir ? ' is a question, which, (may I humbly 
 hope ? ) these memoirs have excited suffi- 
 cient interest in my susceptible readers to 
 propose. With great diffidence I am per- 
 suaded to answer that it was their humble 
 servant. Who or what I am, separately 
 from my once having discharged the honora- 
 ble function just mentioned, it is of no sort 
 of consequence to know, and it is clear from 
 my anonymous title-page, that I do not think
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 69 
 
 the knowledge would contribute to the eclat 
 of my humble production. If any lines in 
 the following portrait of myself appear to be 
 favorably drawn, let not vanity be ascribed 
 to the act, while I seek to hide the original, 
 and even his very name, from the public 
 gaze. 
 
 Previously to the departure of my friend 
 Charles Williams, I had acted as player of 
 clarionet to the choir ; not, I fear, always 
 with the greatest reputation ; for I scarcely 
 remember a Sunday of my performance, 
 when my instrument did not at least once 
 through the day betray itself into a hideous 
 squeak as involuntary on my pact as if there 
 had been a little evil spirit within the tube, 
 sent there to tempt and torment me. At 
 these agonizing moments, I would cast one 
 glance at the countenance of Charles Wil- 
 liams, and finding that there was in that 
 image of native civility no mark of fretful 
 reprehension, or of tittenag infirmity, I 
 proceeded in my part ; nor do I know how 
 I discovered that my fellow singers were not
 
 70 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 quite so composed as their leader, unless it 
 were, that while from alarm and mortifica- 
 tion, my face was reddening, and. my perspi- 
 ration flowing, my eyes were enlarged from 
 the same cause, and thus extended the sphere 
 of their lateral vision. But I am no optician, 
 and hazard nothing on this point beyond con- 
 jecture. I believe it was instinct that pre- 
 vented me, on such occasions, from seeing 
 so far as into the adjoining pew. There 
 was one face there, on which, if I had ever 
 seen a smile approaching to derision, I know 
 that it would have broken my heart. 
 
 But if I do not deceive myself, the squeak 
 in my clarionet was the only ridiculous 
 thing about me, and was probably but the 
 more amusing from its striking contrast to 
 the general gravity of my deportment. On 
 laying aside, therefore, this instrument of 
 my little disgraces, which was a necessary 
 step towards my leading the choir with effect 
 and energy, I trust I had no enormous dis- 
 qualifications for the office. The authority 
 of Charles had been sustained solely by his
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 71 
 
 transcendant musical talents ; mine, I felt, 
 was to be preserved by the most exemplary 
 demeanour, and an assiduous attention to 
 my duty. I could only boast of a mediocrity 
 in musical knowledge and vocal execution. 
 If I was far below my predecessor in accom- 
 plishments requisite for the office, I at least 
 avoided the mistakes into which Mr Har- 
 rington had been often plunged. Until a 
 calamitous concurrence of circumstances, 
 soon to be reheai'sed, not an individual, I 
 think, left the choir during my administration, 
 with the exception of those, whom death or 
 removal out of town subtracted from our 
 number. I loved the office, for it gave me a 
 little importance, and I was, at that time, of 
 no great account in the parish in other 
 respects. Besides, I was extremely attach- 
 ed to public worship, and to all its hallowed 
 decencies, thinking it an honour to exercise 
 the superintendence over so important a 
 department as that assigned to me. With 
 regard to punctuality at meeting, (for so we 
 call church in New England,) the minister
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 himself never outstripped me in that particu- 
 lar. He has more than once, on a stormy 
 day, without commencing service, dismissed 
 my single self, together wilh one other pa- 
 rishioner ,who appeared at meeting only in 
 such weather, and came then, as he whimsi- 
 cally alleged, to Jill up ; and often, on some 
 of our terribly cold Sundays, when seven or 
 eight worshippers in legging would well nigh 
 drown the preacher's voice with the prodigi- 
 ous knocking and stamping of their feet, I 
 was found alone at my post in the singing- 
 gallery, suffering in perfect silence the ago- 
 ny of my frost-bitten extremities, and permit- 
 ing my attention to be no further diverted 
 from Mr Welby, thannow and then in watch- 
 ing the dense volumes of congealed vapour, 
 that were breathed out from a few scattered 
 pews in the almost vacant edifice. 
 
 So far as I can impartially judge, I was 
 one of the most peaceable and unpretending 
 of men. I gave out always, without the 
 least hesitation, whatever tune was suggest- 
 ed to me by any individual in the choir,
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 73 
 
 sacrificing with pleasure my own little pre- 
 ferences, and what is more, the pride of 
 authority, to the gratification of others. 
 Perhaps the general manners of the choir 
 at church were improved during my precen- 
 torship. Let me with modesty say, and 
 with deference to the shade of my dear 
 friend Charles, who is now no more, that 
 my own example probably contributed to 
 some slight amendment in our body after his 
 departure. I had long since formed a secret 
 resolution in my breast, that no old man in 
 the congregation should be more attentive to 
 the services than myself, and I carried it 
 into effect. This naturally influenced a few 
 of my immediate companions to adopt a 
 similar deportment ; and the good order of 
 the rest of the choir suffered at least only a 
 negative violation from the sleep of some, 
 and the studies of others, who preferred look- 
 ing over the tunes of the Village Harmony, 
 or reading the everlasting elegy on Sophro- 
 nia, or amusing themselves with the inscrip- 
 tions of their late leader, to receiving the
 
 74 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 benefits which might have been derived from 
 Mr Welby's excellent sermons. 
 
 After a year had glided away very nearly 
 in this manner, some sensation was produced 
 in the choir and congregation, and, ultimate- 
 ly, some disturbance occasioned to my own 
 peace and happiness, by the addition of a 
 gentleman to our number, who, on several 
 accounts, had no small pretensions. He was 
 the preceptor of an academy, situated, if I 
 recollect aright, not more than ten miles 
 from the town of Waterfield. He was pay- 
 ing his addresses to a young lady of this 
 last mentioned place, and therefore seized 
 on the opportunities which a remission of his 
 duties every Saturday afternoon allowed 
 him, to visit the object of his affections. 
 The Sabbath, of course, was spent by him in 
 our village, and as he was a professed ad- 
 mirer and performer of sacred music, and 
 was a gentleman of liberal education, gen- 
 teel though forward manners, and a superior 
 style of dress for a country town, he was 
 soon introduced into the singing-pew, and
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 75 
 
 without the least difficulty found a seat at my 
 left hand. Being blest with a happy degree 
 of modest assurance, it did not require a 
 second invitation for him to assume habitual- 
 ly the same place afterwards as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 On the very first Sabbath that he joined 
 us, he startled me a little by requesting that 
 Old Hundred might be sung to a psalm which 
 the minister had just begun to read. I told 
 him that I should be very glad to oblige him 
 by announcing that tune to the choir, but the 
 truth was, it had not been performed in our 
 meetinghouse probably for thirty years ; 
 that there were but four or five singers who 
 were acquainted with it, being such only as 
 had chanced to hear it sung at home by their 
 fathers or grandfathers, and that those few 
 had only practised it once or twice together 
 and in private, from mere curiosity to ascer- 
 tain how so celebrated a piece of musical 
 antiquity would sound. 
 
 ' Oh, if there are four or five, ' replied 
 Mr Forehead, (the name of my lofty new
 
 76 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 acquaintance) ' who know any thing of Old 
 Hundred, by all means let us have it. I beg 
 it, Sir, as a particular favour, and will give 
 you my reasons for the request after service.' 
 My prevailing disposition to oblige, and 
 the great quantity of time already consumed 
 in our conversation, imposed upon me now 
 the necessity of pronouncing aloud, as was 
 usual just before beginning to sing, the name 
 of this venerable air. No sooner had the 
 word proceeded from my mouth, than there 
 appeared to be a motion of keen curiosity 
 among the congregation below, but in the 
 choir around me there reigned the stillness 
 of incredulity and surprise. All the elder 
 members of the flock, I could observe, look- 
 ed upwards to the gallery, with the gleams 
 of pleasurable expectation in their countenan- 
 ces. Of our well-filled orchestra, only eight 
 individuals arose, for there were no more 
 among us, who possessed the least acquaint- 
 ance with Old Hundred. And even three 
 out of that number were as ignorant of it as 
 those who continued seated, but ventured to
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. (< 
 
 expose themselves, trusting to the assistance 
 they might derive from the voices of the oth- 
 er performers, and from the score of the 
 tune itself, contained in some, though I think 
 not in all of the copies of the Village Har- 
 mony which were present. 
 
 The psalm was sung with tolerable cor- 
 rectness ; but accompanied with such a fan- 
 ning on the part of the females, who were all 
 sitting, and such a whispering among those of 
 the correlative sex who were unemployed, 
 that I could bode nothing but disturbance 
 and unhappiness for a long time to come in 
 our choral circle. 
 
 During the reading of the next psalm, 
 while Mr Forehead was alarming me with a 
 recommendation to sing St Martin's, four 
 stout acquaintances of my own pressed for- 
 ward and whispered with an earnestness that 
 carried the sound over every part of the edi- 
 fice, * Sing New Jerusalem ! ' New Jerusa- 
 lem therefore I appointed to be sung, and 
 thus prevented, as I make no sort of question,
 
 78 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 more than three quarters of the singers from 
 leaving their seats vacant in the afternoon. 
 
 At the close of the morning service, I had 
 the promised interview and explanation with 
 my new acquaintance. It seems that since 
 leaving college he had been reading law for 
 a year in an office at one of our seaport 
 towns, and while there, had occasionally as- 
 sisted in the choir of some congregation, 
 into which had been introduced a new and 
 purer taste for sacred music than generally 
 prevailed through the rest of the country. 
 In that choir, as he informed me, no tunes 
 of American origin were ever permitted to 
 gain entrance. Fugues there were a loath- 
 ing and detestation. None but the slow, 
 grand, and simple airs which our forefathers 
 sang, found any indulgence. Mr Forehead 
 assured me that no other music was worth 
 hearing, and what seemed to weigh particu- 
 larly with him was the circumstance, that 
 the slow music in question was beginning to 
 be in the fashion. It was under the operation 
 of these ideas that he had been so strenuous
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 79 
 
 in forcing upon our choir the performance 
 of Old Hundred and St Martin's, in defi- 
 ance of our helpless ignorance of both of 
 them. 
 
 It appeared to ine that his zeal on this 
 point was carrying him too far. I saw in 
 his aims quite as strong workings of a con- 
 scious superiority in taste and of the fastidi- 
 ous arrogance of fashion, as a love for genu- 
 ine and appropriate music. I could not but 
 question, too, the propriety of suddenly and 
 violently forcing upon a choir and congrega- 
 tion a species of music to which they were 
 entirely unaccustomed. It occurred to me, 
 besides, that though the most slow and 
 solemn tunes might be executed with good 
 effect when sustained by the accompaniment 
 of an organ, yet it was scarcely judicious to 
 confine the whole music of a vocal choir en- 
 tirely or even principally to that kind alone. 
 But all these suggestions were of no avail 
 in convincing my opponent, and we parted 
 with not the kindest opinions and feelings 
 respecting each other.
 
 80 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 In the course of a month, Mr Forehead's 
 arguments, persuasion, and example, wrought 
 in a large portion of the choir a very consid- 
 erable change of taste on this subject. 
 There were some, who loved novelty ; there 
 were others, who yielded to the stranger's 
 assurances respecting the fashion ableness of 
 the thing ; and there was a third description, 
 who were really convinced of the better 
 adaptation of the ancient tunes to the pur- 
 poses of worship, and had a taste to enjoy 
 their solemn and beautiful strains. All these 
 classes composed perhaps about a moiety of 
 the choir, and were eager for the introduc- 
 tion of the good old music. The other half 
 were extremely obstinate and almost bigoted 
 in their opposition to this measure, and in 
 their attachment to the existing catalogue of 
 tunes. Disputes now ran high amongst us. 
 Most of us took sides on the question with 
 an inexcusable warmth, and without any at- 
 tempt at compromise. 
 
 I know of nothing more unconquerable 
 and spiteful than the bickerings of a divided
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 81 
 
 choir while they last. In addition to all the 
 ordinary exacerbations of party spirit, there 
 is a most unpardonable offence committed 
 by each side in suspecting the good taste of 
 the other. Thus vanity is wounded to its 
 deepest core, and conscience and conviction 
 are fretted into a fierce perseverance, which 
 is not at all diminished by the circumstance, 
 that the parties must sit, act, and sing in 
 the closest contact, and almost breathe into 
 each other's faces. 
 
 In the midst of this unhappy musical com- 
 motion, there was one individual, who had 
 the good fortune to remain thus far entirely 
 neuter. It was, reader, the humble historian 
 of these transactions, the afflicted leader of 
 that agitated band. I had long wished, to- 
 gether with my friend Charles Williams, 
 that a better style of music might prevail 
 amongst us. But we felt that we had neith- 
 er skill nor authority to effect the exchange. 
 If the tares should be torn up, we knew 
 that the wheat would be liable to come with 
 them. My private opinion, as well as
 
 82 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 general disposition, led me therefore, to be 
 as quiescent as possible amid the difficulties 
 now existing. I did not, as I believe, es- 
 cape all censure front either party, but I 
 I'eceived no bitter treatment from any one. 
 Due deference and acknowledgment still 
 continued for some time to be paid me as 
 leader, except perhaps from the pragmatical 
 stranger. But no efforts or prudence on 
 my part could prevent the explosion which 
 was ultimately to ensue. 
 
 When it was found that Mr Forehead 
 had sufficient influence to introduce a few of 
 his favourite tunes on the settled and cus- 
 tomary catalogue, and that the matter had 
 proceeded to something more than a simple 
 experiment, the admirers of fugues looked 
 upon themselves as a beaten party, and took 
 occasion, when two of the obnoxious airs 
 had happened to be given out by me on one 
 Sunday morning, to absent themselves alto- 
 gether from worship in the afternoon. My 
 feelings in this predicament are not to be 
 described. I regarded myself as a principal
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 83 
 
 cause of this deplorable feud, and lamented 
 that I had not had sufficient strength of 
 mind to resist the encroachments of the 
 active gentleman at my left hand. But the 
 standard was now raised and war was 
 declared. I felt that it would be ignomini- 
 ous to quit my post. I gave up for a time 
 my arguments with Mr Forehead on the 
 propriety of singing slow tunes altogether. 
 No attempts were made to effect a reconcili- 
 ation and return of the absenting party. It 
 was resolved among those who remained 
 behind, to perform no other music than such 
 as we deemed the most genuine, and an 
 express was sent off by the first opportunity 
 to purchase thirty copies of the lately pub- 
 lished ******* Collection. 
 
 In the mean time, however, the controver- 
 sy had descended to the congregation. As 
 long as the choir had kept together on terms 
 of seeming decency, it was hardly to be 
 expected that the audience at large would 
 take part in our little animosities. The 
 parish would never have undertaken to con-
 
 84 THE VILLAGE CHOIK. 
 
 trol a whole choir, if that choir would have 
 united in any species of music, however 
 contrary to the tastes and habits of those 
 who bore no share in its performance. But 
 when it was found that our little vocal com- 
 monwealth had been rent asunder, and that 
 so large a division of malcontents had retired 
 in indignation to a Sacred Mount, the sym- 
 pathies of brothers, sisters, parents, and 
 friends, were at once excited, and musical 
 predilections were enlisted along with the 
 ties of nature to swell the threatening 
 dissatisfaction. For several Sundays I re- 
 mained firm, supported as I was by all the 
 ostentatious influence and patronage of Mr 
 Forehead, and the zealous cooperation of 
 his partizans. We persisted every Sabbath 
 in singing these five tunes Old Hundred, 
 St Martin's, Mear, Bath, and Little Mai- 
 borough, unless the minister varied his me- 
 tres from that standard, and even then we 
 were prepared with tunes of a similar class. 
 By these means we hoped to awaken a bet- 
 ter taste among those of the congregation
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 85 
 
 who were averse to our new style, and 
 eventually to recall a majority of the dissi- 
 dents, who we trusted would become con- 
 vinced of the excellence of our improve- 
 ments, and gradually return to partake of 
 the honour and pleasure attached to them. 
 
 But our expectations were disappointed. 
 Our triumph had a date of only about three 
 months, and was even waning while it last- 
 ed. We could not force the likings of a 
 prejudiced, and in some respects, exasperat- 
 ed congregation. The singing in the meet- 
 inghouse was the constant topic of every 
 private conversation. All possible ridicule 
 and contempt were thrown out against each 
 of the respective styles in question. All 
 sorts of arguments were used, that reason, 
 or passion, or prejudice, could devise. Till 
 at length, I verily believe, our inclinations 
 became so perverted by the mere operation 
 of party feeling, that many of us hated and 
 despised the venerable air of Old Hundred 
 with as much heartiness as they did the toad 
 that crossed their path at twilight, while
 
 86 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 others regarded the generally very innocent 
 tune of Northfield with the same abhorrence 
 that we bestowed on a snake. Unfortunately 
 for the better side of the argument at this 
 time, the attachment to a rapid, fuguing, 
 animated style of singing was too deeply and 
 extensively seated in the affections of the 
 people of Waterfield, to be eradicated by 
 the impotent perseverance of our diminished 
 choir. Pew after pew became deserted, 
 until we found that we were singing, and 
 Mr Welby preaching almost to naked walls. 
 The hoary head was still there, for it loved 
 to listen to the strains which had nourished 
 the piety of its youth. A few families of 
 fashionable pretensions encouraged us, for 
 .there was something aristocratical in the 
 superior taste of our newly introduced music, 
 and something modish in its reputation. 
 Nothing but the strongest religious feelings 
 induced a few other scattered individuals to 
 appear at meeting, and it was but too evi- 
 dent that full three quarters of the usual at- 
 tendants remained at home.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 87 
 
 This spectacle produced the deepest effect 
 on my mind. I had a sufficient sense of the 
 blessings of public worship to feel and know, 
 that they must not be sacrificed to a mere 
 point of musical taste. I was therefore per- 
 fectly willing to resign all my biases for the 
 sake of seeing our beloved meetinghouse 
 again filled with its motley throngs, and of 
 feeling the delicious, though perhaps imagi- 
 nary coolness excited by the agitations of 
 several hundred fans, those busy little agents, 
 so lively, so glancing, yet so silent, and of 
 hearing the full thunder of all the seats as 
 they were slammed down after prayer, 
 though Mr Welby had frequently remonstrat- 
 ed with earnestness against it, but much 
 to my satisfaction, remonstrated in vain, for 
 I scarcely know many sounds more grateful 
 to my ear than this. Whether it is, that it 
 is connected with the idea of a full congre- 
 gation, which I always loved, or with the 
 close of the prayer, which in early youth I 
 thought insufferably long, or whether it was 
 originally a most agreeable diversification of
 
 88 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 the inaction and monotony of church hours, 
 I cannot tell, but something has wonderfully 
 attached me to the noise of a thousand fall- 
 ing seats. And this attachment you will 
 find very general in New England. Many 
 a minister there will tell you that his attempts 
 to correct the supposed evil have always 
 been ineffectual ; and if you are riding 
 through the land on a summer Sabbath, you 
 may observe that long before you are in 
 sight of a meetinghouse, your starting horse 
 and saluted ear will give decided testimony 
 to the clergyman's complaint, while all the 
 wakened echoes round will inform you that 
 if you spur forward for a half mile or more, 
 you will be in season to hear a good portion 
 of the sermon, though you have lost the 
 prayer. 
 
 I was unable any longer to endure the 
 destitute appearance of the meetinghouse, 
 and having consulted with Mr Welby, who 
 advised me to make whatever sacrifices I 
 could for the restoration of peace, I caused 
 Jt to be circulated one day in the village,
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIU. 89 
 
 that on the following Sabbath I should re- 
 turn to the kind of music which had lately 
 been abandoned. The necessity for this 
 measure was the more pressing, as I heard 
 it murmured that a town-meeting was soon 
 to be called for the purpose of securing a 
 mode of singing, which should be agreeable 
 to a great majority of the parish. 
 
 My present associates and supporters, 
 indeed, almost to a man, took umbrage at 
 my determination ; and were not seen in 
 public when the Sabbath came. But I was 
 surrounded by all the choristers of the other 
 party, and the meetinghouse was crowded, 
 and the downfalling seats rebellowed again 
 to my delighted ear. 
 
 And now for several weeks was the full- 
 breathing triumph of the lovers of crotchets 
 and quavers over the votaries of minims 
 and semibreves. The latter faction sullenly 
 absented themselves from the singing pew, 
 and generally from worship, while the former 
 revelled amid the labyrinths of fugues, be- 
 lieving to their own happiness, certainly, the 
 8*
 
 90 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 order of consecutive parts to be the sweetest 
 of melodies, and the recurrence of consecu- 
 tive fifths the most delightful of harmonies. 
 In place of the lists of ancient tunes above 
 enumerated, were now substituted Russia, 
 Northfield, The Forty Sixth Psalm, New 
 Jerusalem, and others of the same mint. 
 The name of Billings was a sufficient pass- 
 port of recommendation to any air that was 
 mentioned, while that of Williams or of 
 Tansur, was sure to condemn it to neglect. 
 We were encouraged by the looks and 
 voices of all those members of the congre- 
 gation who were beneath fifty years of age, 
 or if any such declined to accompany us 
 either with a hum or an articulated modula- 
 tion, they perhaps testified their satisfaction 
 by the visible beating of a hand, whose arm 
 lay along the top of a pew. 
 
 But this was to me only a silver age, 
 compared with the golden reign of Charles 
 Williams. I felt that my taste had become 
 much confirmed and purified by my recent 
 study and practice of a better style of church
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 91 
 
 mu^ic, and I could therefore the less easily 
 tolerate that which I was compelled now to 
 support. By far the better half of the choir, 
 also, in point of musical skill and execution, 
 refrained from renewing their services, and I 
 was distressed to know what methods I 
 could adopt to allure them back. Even my 
 rival and annoyer, Mr Forehead, I should 
 have been glad to welcome again at my left 
 hand. His voice had both power and 
 sweetness, and perhaps the only defect in 
 his mode of performing, was his perpetual 
 attempt at ornament and trilling, a defect, 
 still further enhanced by the circumstance, 
 that instead of trilling with his tongue, he 
 always attempted that accomplishment with 
 his lips alone, being the veritable original, 
 by whom the well known unhappy change 
 was made upon the word bow in the following 
 distich. 
 
 With reverence let the saints appear, 
 And bow before the Lord/ 
 
 Nevertheless, I was perfectly willing and 
 desirous to enter into a negotiation with
 
 92 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 him and his party, for the purpose of pro- 
 curing, if possible, some mutual compromise 
 and reconciliation, and filling up again the 
 complement of the choir. 
 
 But this was an attempt of no little deli- 
 cacy and difficulty. The exasperation of 
 both parties was too recent and too sore, 
 immediately to admit of an amicable person- 
 al union, or to allow the expectation that 
 either side would endure the favorite music 
 of the other. Time, however, which effects 
 such mighty revolutions in the affairs of 
 empires, condescends also to work the most 
 important changes in the aspect of humble 
 villages, and still humbler choirs. 
 
 It is the office of this unpretending narra- 
 tive to record the mutations to which one of 
 the last mentioned communities is exposed 
 in New England. Whether the train of in- 
 cidents here exhibited be a specimen of what 
 occurs to many other choirs within the same 
 region, my experience does not enable me 
 to decide. Many of my readers, however, 
 will probably recognise in these memoirs of
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 93 
 
 a single collection of singers, several fea- 
 tures common to all others. 
 
 I have often thought that such communi- 
 ties are a kind of arena for the exhibition of 
 some peculiar and specific human infirmities. 
 Every new combination of our social nature, 
 indeed, seems to produce some new results, 
 in the same manner as each species of veg- 
 etables nourishes its peculiar tribe of ani- 
 malcules. I take it that our National Con- 
 gress elicits from its component members 
 certain specific virtues and vices, and cer- 
 tain modifications of feeling, passion, and 
 talent, denied to us mere readers of news- 
 papers at home. Where but on the floor of 
 the American Capitol, would the peculiarities 
 of a certain member's sarcasm, and of another 
 member's sublime statesmanship be generated 
 and developed ? So in a church choir, there 
 somehow arise certain shades of freaks, 
 certain starts of passion, certain species of 
 whim, certain modes of folly, and let me 
 humbly suggest, also, certain descriptions of 
 virtue, to be found exactly in no other speci- 
 mens throughout the moral kingdom of man.
 
 04 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 May I fondly hope, that these desultory 
 delineations, intermingled though they are 
 with intrusive speculations, and superficial 
 efforts at philosophizing, may at least prove 
 corrective of kindred defects, if such any 
 where exist, with those which are here ex- 
 posed ? A mirror sometimes shocks the child 
 out of a passion of whose deformity he could 
 not be convinced except by its disgusting 
 effects on his own face. And if the perusal 
 of these pages, which have been too care- 
 lessly thrown together, in order to indulge 
 some juvenile recollections, and to sooth 
 some painful, heavy hours, be instrumental 
 in correcting any imperfections to which our 
 church-choirs are liable, I shall feel more 
 than repaid for my anxiety in undertaking 
 the perilous enterprise of authorship. But 
 let us be moving forward. 
 
 In a very few months, negotiations were 
 entered into, with the body of the other par- 
 ty, of whom some half dozen individuals of 
 the least zealous had from time to time 
 returned, and given in their adhesion to the
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 95 
 
 ruling powers, The truth was, that on our 
 part, we felt extremely the want of instru- 
 mental music, and a few excellent voices on 
 the treble. After Charles Williams had 
 left us, a tolerable bass-viol was played by 
 an elderly storekeeper, a bachelor, who 
 had formerly assisted the choir several years 
 with that instrument, but had resigned it as 
 soon as Charles became prepared to supply 
 his place. This gentleman, with his clerk, 
 who played a fine flute, had participated in 
 the dudgeon of the lovers of ancient melody. 
 But nearly all of them now wished to return, 
 conscious, undoubtedly, of the improvement 
 which it was truly in their power to contrib- 
 ute to our performances, and unwilling that 
 their talents should any longer be hidden in 
 a napkin. 
 
 The terms of reconciliation and reunion 
 were settled in the following manner. As 
 our performances were required regularly 
 five times on a Sabbath, it was agreed that 
 the arrangement of tunes throughout the 
 day should be two fugues, two of the slow
 
 96 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ancient airs, and one of a different descrip- 
 tion from either. Neither party could well 
 object to airs of a rapid and animated move- 
 ment, in which all the parts continued unin- 
 terruptedly to the close, as in the case with 
 Wells, Windham, Virginia, and many oth- 
 ers. Another class of tunes, also, were 
 very general favourites, though they avoided 
 both extremes that were the bones of con- 
 tention among us. I allude to those, in 
 which the third line is a duett between the 
 bass and treble, of which St Sebastian's is a 
 well-known beautiful instance. 
 
 For some time, we proceeded together in 
 this new arrangement with as little interrup- 
 tion as could be well expected from existing 
 circumstances. A very few of the most 
 obstinate and paltry minded, of each side, 
 held out indeed for longer or shorter periods, 
 and one or two perhaps never returned till a 
 grand revolution of the whole corps to be 
 described hereafter, should our history ever 
 reach a second part. For several Sundays, 
 also, four or five Guelphs would contemptu-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 97 
 
 ously sit in perfect silence during the singing 
 of the Ghibeline tunes, and as many Ghibe- 
 lines would return the compliment during 
 the singing of the Guelph tunes. And even 
 when they were compelled to abandon such 
 indecent deportment by the censures to 
 which it exposed them, to my certain knowl- 
 edge they were silent while standing up with 
 the choir, or moved their lips in a whisper, 
 or sang so very low, as to give no sort of 
 assistance to the rest. 
 
 However, these little factious symptoms 
 gradually disappeared, and I had at length 
 the happiness of finding myself at the head 
 of my musical flock, with the embers of 
 former grievances well nigh asleep, and with 
 a decided advantage gained in our taste and 
 selection of tunes. But what struggles and 
 dangers had been incurred in order to arrive 
 at this improved condition ! I can resort to 
 no illustration of these events more apt than 
 the kingdom of France, which, as some imag- 
 ine, derives a faint compensation for the hor- 
 rors of the revolution, from the amendments 
 9
 
 98 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 effected in some of its circumstances and 
 institutions, that neither despotism, nor su- 
 perstition, can in future hope to wipe away. 
 Yet, amid these various concussions, it will 
 not be surprising that my own authority should 
 have been completely undermined. It is 
 scarce supposablethat I could be a very decid- 
 ed favourite with either of the parties who 
 had frowned so awfully upon each other, since 
 I had in a manner sided with both of them. 
 Although, therefore, I was most scrupulously 
 impartial in selecting such descriptions of 
 tunes as exactly conformed to the terms of 
 the treaty, yet there was not a member of 
 the choir, whose friendship was sufficiently 
 zealous to join me in resisting the new 
 encroachments of Mr Forehead. While 
 that gentleman confined himself to a general 
 selection equally impartial with mine, not a 
 spectator thought of murmuring, when he 
 suggested, as he constantly did, this and 
 that particular tune for any given psalm or 
 hymn ; and suggested it, too, with such an 
 air of certainty and confidence, that I was
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 99 
 
 not the man to hold up my head, and say at 
 a single glance, ' Sir, I am on my own ground 
 here.' When he found that his suggestions 
 were in this way constantly adopted, it was 
 an easy and natural transition for him next 
 to whisper round of his own accord, to the 
 few who sat near him, the name of the tune 
 to be sung, and to whisper it also to me with 
 the same non-chalance, that I might proclaim 
 it to the choir as usual. And then, with as 
 much ease and as calm a face as Napoleon 
 wore when he stept from the consular chair 
 to the imperial throne, it only remained for 
 him to assume the precentorship at once, by 
 uttering aloud, one Sunday, to my amaze- 
 ment, the name of the first tune in the 
 morning, and continuing the practice from 
 that moment until his departure from the 
 choir and the neighbourhood. 
 
 Thus, my own occupation was gone. On 
 the afternoon of the morning just mentioned, 
 I entered the singing pew, and took my seat 
 at some distance from the post of honour, 
 which I felt was no longer mine. It was of
 
 100 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 no use to appeal to the members of the 
 choir in my defence. I had suffered en- 
 croachment after encroachment to be gradu- 
 ally made upon my authority, until the last 
 act of usurpation was scarcely perceptible. 
 I knew that I could have no enthusiastic 
 supporters of my rights. I had not one 
 personal qualification by which to balance 
 the imposing and overbearing accomplish- 
 ments of my competitor. I dare say all the 
 choir and all the congregation thought him 
 the best leader, as I confess, on the whole, 
 he was. Probably the precise circumstan- 
 ces under which the exchange was made, 
 were not discerned by many among them. 
 Perhaps they might have supposed, that my 
 resignation and transfer of the pitchpipe 
 were voluntary. Indeed I half hope they 
 did suppose so. But no I am willing they 
 should have known the whole truth. But 
 let the matter rest. It is an era in my biog- 
 raphy which I do not love to contemplate. 
 
 I am not ashamed, however, that I con- 
 tinued in the choir. I am certain it was
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 101 
 
 not meanness which kept me there, though 
 some at first sight may so interpret it. It 
 was a struggle between pride and duty, in 
 which duty won the victory and though 
 pride had indignation for its ally, yet my 
 devoted and disinterested love for those 
 singing seats, came up to the assistance of 
 duty, and decided the contest. 
 
 Besides, why should I desert those seats ? 
 Should I have felt happier, could I have 
 concealed my mortification better, by sitting 
 with the family below ? By no means. I 
 might as well remain where I was, and bury 
 my feelings in the flood of sound with which 
 my own tremulous voice was mingled. 
 
 For I considered, that it was always my 
 peculiar lot, wherever I was, and whatever I 
 did, to have some mortification or other on 
 my hands, or, I would say, on my heart. 
 The squeak of my clarionet was but an epit- 
 ome of a certain note that has occasionally 
 grated the whole tenor of my fortune and 
 life. I had a disaffected mother-in-law. 
 My school master was partial to my rival. I 
 9*
 
 102 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 was bound an apprentice to an uncongenial 
 employment, which I could not abandon un- 
 til I was free. I was once jilted. How I 
 was superseded in the choir, has been seen 
 above. I always try to do my best, but am 
 liable to overdo. I have been disinterested 
 and generous to my friends, till I have spoil- 
 ed them, and they have sometimes become 
 my foes from expecting more than I could 
 or ought to perform. The same out-of-the- 
 way note, I acknowledge, attaches itself to 
 most of my compositions. I have written 
 some things in these very pages of a kin 
 with that portentous strain of my instrument ; 
 but I could not help it ; and I expect, that 
 with some praises that may be vouchsafed to 
 this production, other things will be said of 
 it that will cut me to the very heart. But I 
 will try to be prepared for them. 
 
 And now, reader, you may in some meas- 
 ure understand how I could endure to haunt, 
 like a ghost, the scene of my former triumphs. 
 Remember, however, that I met no scorn 
 on the occasion. Not a soul was there, who
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 103 
 
 would not have regretted my absence. A 
 gentle and quiet exchange of leaders had 
 been effected, and there the matter rested 
 in every mind. The most direct way by 
 which I could have caused it to redound to 
 my ill-reputation and discomfort, would have 
 been, to make a stir about it. Prudence, 
 therefore, if nothing else, might whisper me 
 the proper course to be pursued. 
 
 Thus a fifth leader of the choir at Water- 
 field is duly and regularly recorded on these 
 veracious annals. His reign, like that of 
 his predecessor, was stormy and unfortunate. 
 For some weeks, Mr Forehead adhered in- 
 violably to the articles of union touching the 
 selection of particular kinds of music. But 
 it is the natural tendency of usurped power, 
 when thus easily acquired, to produce secur- 
 ity, audacity, encroachment, downfal. The 
 precentor's partialities at length began to 
 burst out, and occasional small violations of 
 the treaty were hazarded with impunity. 
 But when he attempted to advance further, 
 and one whole Sunday .passed without the
 
 104 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 assignment of a single fugue to wake up the 
 indifferent congregation, an alarm was taken 
 by the lovers of that species of melody. 
 A repetition of former disturbances and irri- 
 tations was threatened. Some of the choir 
 took no part in the performance ; some ab- 
 solutely left the seats for neighbouring pews, 
 and a convulsion was on the eve of again 
 breaking us in pieces. 
 
 The amiable Mr Welby perceived the in- 
 dications of an approaching storm. He de- 
 voted himself, therefore, the ensuing week, 
 to the preparation of a discourse, which he 
 hoped might check the evil in its commence- 
 ment. Meanwhile, however, the difficulty 
 was provided for in another way. A depu- 
 tation had called on the existing leader that 
 very evening, and, making the strongest re- 
 presentations of the dissatisfaction which 
 would certainly prevail, if he should contin- 
 ue the course of administration to which he 
 was inclined, extorted from him a promise 
 that he would immediately return to the 
 recent arrangement which had so well se-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 105 
 
 cured the harmony of the choir, and the 
 complacency of the congregation. 
 
 But Mr Welby knew nothing of the hap- 
 py turn that affairs had thus assumed, and 
 the members of the choir, on their part, knew 
 nothing of the benevolent officiousness that 
 was prompting the labours of his study. 
 Even had he been aware that a reconciliation 
 had taken place, it is probable that he would 
 still have interwoven into his next discourse 
 some gentle persuasives to mutual kindness. 
 His utter ignorance, however, of that happy 
 occurrence, caused his sermon in some pla- 
 ces to wear an aspect of unnecessary point- 
 edness and severity. Although it contained 
 but one explicit allusion to the choir, yet it 
 unfortunately was calculated with exquisite 
 skill to meet precisely such a state of ex- 
 citement as there was every reason to sup- 
 pose the singers would by this time be 
 wrought up to. But what was meant for 
 exhortation, was now felt as reproach ; the 
 more tender and soothing the preacher's 
 
 language, the more it seemed like oil de- 
 
 '
 
 106 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 scending on the flames. The whole choir 
 had come together that morning in a state of 
 jealous irritability ; they were ready to 
 break out somewhere ; the terms of the last 
 Sunday evening's engagement guarded them 
 from waging battle with each other ; the one 
 party were moody and disappointed, the 
 other felt injured and suspicious ; ' and now, 
 to be held up to the congregation to be 
 found fault with by the minister 'to be chid- 
 den just at the moment when they were all 
 endeavouring to keep peace together ! ' 
 Such were the exaggerated and unjust re- 
 flections excited in their minds by one of the 
 mildest and most beautiful discourses on 
 brotherly love, that were ever composed, and 
 in which, as I before observed, only one 
 direct allusion was made to them, wherein 
 the preacher expressed his trust, that those 
 who gladdened the house of God with the 
 harmony of their voices, would be particu- 
 larly careful to cultivate the much sweeter, 
 and to the ear of Heaven, the much more 
 acceptable harmony, that resulted from a 
 union of pious hearts.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 107 
 
 But no matter, it gave to those prejudiced 
 and capricious choristers an object on which 
 to exercise their characteristic waywardness, 
 and an opportunity to make themselves of 
 some troublesome importance. According- 
 ly, to wreak a glorious revenge on the inter- 
 fering parson, and to impress on the whole 
 world a sense of their immeasurable conse- 
 quence, not a soul of them on the afternoon 
 of that day appeared in the singing seats 
 with the exception, let me humbly add, of 
 one, as unworthy indeed as the rest, but who 
 would never for such a provocation, have de- 
 serted that gallery until the imitation-marble 
 columns that supported it were crumbling 
 into ruins. Whatever others might have 
 thought of me, however poor-spirited and 
 grandmother-loving I may have appeared, 
 yet if there have been any moments in my 
 life of loftier triumph, but at the same time, 
 of more piteous melancholy than others, 
 they assuredly occurred during the quarter 
 of an hour, when I sat perfectly alone in 
 that deserted singing-pew, fixing my eye
 
 108 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 and face on no other object than my afflicted 
 minister, who was waiting in trembling dis- 
 may for the entrance of the rest of the choir. 
 Never shall I forget the moment when the 
 dreadful truth flashed into his mind, and he 
 perceived, by their protracted absence, the 
 mistake that he must have committed in the 
 morning. Yet it was but an instant of ago- 
 ny, and was succeeded by a high-souled 
 though involuntary look of calmness, and 
 consciousness that he had discharged no 
 more than a well-meant religious and profess- 
 ional duty. The tears were soon wined 
 away from his face, a decent composure was 
 assumed, a hymn was quickly selected, 
 which Watts, the sweet psalmist of the mod- 
 ern Israel, could furnish him most appropri- 
 ately for the occasion, and was then announc- 
 ed and read with a tremulousness of voice, 
 that indicated rather a successful effort for 
 firmness, than any yielding weakness of 
 heart. 
 
 I had the honor, on that occasion, of set- 
 ting and leading a tune, which was accom-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR 109 
 
 paniccl by Mr Wclby's modest, though per- 
 fect and full-toned bass. We were the only 
 singers for the remainder of that day. The 
 hearts of some among the worshippers were 
 too full, and of others too anxious, to lend 
 us a helping note. From that moment, the 
 closest friendship was formed and cemented 
 between Mr Welby and myself, and it was 
 but lately that I paid him the last dollar of 
 the money which he liberally advanced to 
 defray more than half the expenses of my 
 college education. 
 
 I was ' monarch of all I survey'd ' in that 
 singing-pew for four months. Mr Welby 
 of course had no apology to make. Apology 
 indeed ! He was in truth the only injured 
 party. Had the whole choir entered the 
 meetinghouse on their knees, singing Pecca- 
 vinms and Miserere, they would, by such hu- 
 miliation, have scarcely effaced their violation 
 of sacred proprieties and of the feelings of 
 their pastor. Should Mr Wclby's Journal of 
 his Ministry, which I know he has copiously 
 recorded, be ever given to the world, I have 
 10
 
 110 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 not a doubt that this transaction will be stat- 
 ed there with ample justice and candour, and 
 make no insignificant appearance among the 
 various trials which a New England Clergy- 
 man is called to endure. 
 
 It was long ere a sense of lingering com- 
 punction, together with various other feel- 
 ings and circumstances, brought the wander- 
 ers back to their deserted fold. Meanwhile 
 I continued the discharge of my solitary du- 
 ty in the gallery, and was most minutely 
 scrupulous in selecting the tunes according 
 to the arrangement prescribed amidst the re- 
 cent troubles. I was determined to give to 
 no person whatever the slightest cause of 
 offence, but to hold out every encouragement 
 for all who chose to return. Mr Welby and 
 myself derived occasional assistance from a 
 few voices below, but often the whole music- 
 al duties of worship devolved upon us alone. 
 Few indeed of the members of the late choir 
 carried their animosity so far as to renounce 
 attendance at church altogether. Mr Fore- 
 head, I think, was never seen in that meet-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. Ill 
 
 inghouse but once again. Soon after his 
 abrupt retirement from the seats, he married 
 and left the neighbourhood, carrying off with 
 him one of the best treble voices in the village. 
 At the beginning of the following winter, I 
 was compelled to fulfil an engagement that 
 I had incurred, to keep a district-school for 
 three months in the county of Rockingham, 
 New Hampshire. Soon after I had taken 
 my departure for this purpose, Mr Welby 
 was seized with a troublesome affection of 
 his lungs, which scarcely permitted him to 
 perform even his strictly pastoral services. 
 And now the musical tide hi my native con- 
 gregation was at its very lowest ebb. For 
 two or three Sundays the minister did not 
 even presume to read a psalm, certain that 
 no one present would rise and sing it. Can 
 my readers imagine from what quarter relief 
 was derived in this gloomy state of things ? 
 From none other than a few of the very 
 oldest members of the congregation. Four 
 ancient men, the least of whose ages was 
 seventy-three, indignant at the folly and per-
 
 112 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 tinacity of those singers of yesterday, and 
 wearied out with waiting for a return of 
 tolerable music, tottered up the stairs one 
 Sabbath morning with the assistance of the 
 panelled railing, and took their places in 
 the seats left vacant by their degenerate 
 grandsons. Two of them had fought in the 
 old French war, and all had taken a civil or 
 military part, more or less conspicuous, in 
 the struggle for our country's independence. 
 One indeed, bore a title of considerable 
 military rank. His hair was as white as 
 the falling snow ; the other three displayed 
 white or grey wigs, with a large circular 
 bush, mantling over the upper part of the 
 back, like a swelling cloud round the should- 
 ers of old Wachusett. Their voices of 
 course were broken and tremulous, but not 
 destitute of a certain grave and venerable 
 sweetness. They kept the most perfect 
 time, as they stood in a row, fronting the 
 minister, with their hands each holding a 
 lower corner of their books, which they 
 waved from side to side in a manner the
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 113 
 
 most solemn and imposing. Their very " 
 pronunciation had in it something primitive 
 and awe-inspiring. Their shall broadened 
 into shawl, do was exchanged for doe, and 
 earth for airth. Their selection of tunes 
 was of the most ancient composition and 
 slowest movement, with the exception, oc- 
 casionally, of old Sherburne, and the Thirty 
 Fourth Psalm. 
 
 How vividly do I remember the spectacle 
 which they presented to my revering eyes, 
 when I attended the meetinghouse late one 
 morning, after having walked on snow-shoes 
 the last five miles of the distance from the 
 place where I was employed in teaching, to 
 pay a short visit to my friends. On entering 
 the beloved edifice, whose white, though 
 bell-less steeple I had for some time gazed on 
 from afar with emotions almost as strong as 
 if I had been absent several years, it was 
 my purpose to ascend immediately to my 
 usual station. But before I had passed the 
 door, unexpected and unaccustomed sounds 
 for that place burst upon my ears, and my 
 
 to*
 
 114 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 curiosity irresistibly led me forward to my 
 father's pew near the pulpit, that I might 
 have a full view of the strange choir which 
 had so magically sprung up during my short 
 absence, and that I might not disturb it by 
 my unnecessary intrusion. 
 
 This was not the first nor the last time 
 that I have witnessed extraordinary energy 
 of character, as occasions called for it, dis- 
 played by octogenarians of New England. 
 Few of my readers, perhaps, will fail to 
 remember instances analogous to that here 
 recorded. Those apparently decrepit forms, 
 which you see at frame-raisings, confined to 
 the easy task of fashioning the pins, and 
 telling stories of the revolution, or about 
 the door in winter, mending the sled and 
 gathering sticks for the fire ; or drawing the 
 rake in summer after the moving hay-cart, 
 occasionally surprise you by the exhibition 
 of an activity and strength, which you 
 would think they must have forever resigned. 
 Who can tell how much this latent vigour of 
 theirs may be owing to our bracing climate,
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 115 
 
 joined to the effects of their former stirring 
 life, and particularly to the influence of 
 those preternatural exertions, which they, 
 with the whole country, once put forth in 
 the war of independence ? I thought I 
 distinctly saw, in the efforts of those seniors 
 of my native parish to supply it with sacred 
 music, something of that spirit which had 
 sprung to arms, when the necessities of their 
 country and the voice of Heaven bade them 
 forego every personal convenience, and take 
 up their march to Charlestown, to Cam- 
 bridge, and to the heights of Dorchester. 
 Ye laurelled old men ! ye saviours of your 
 country, and authors of unimaginable bles- 
 sings for your posterity ! ye shall not descend 
 to your graves, without the fervent thanks, 
 the feeble tribute of one, who often in his 
 thought refers his political enjoyments and 
 hopes to your principle, your valour, and 
 your blood. 
 
 How soon will it be ere a revolutionary 
 veteran will be seen no more among us ! It 
 js with a feeling of melancholy and desolation
 
 116 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 that I perceive their number irrevocably 
 lessening every year. We do not half 
 enough load the survivors with grateful 
 honours. * We ought formally and publicly 
 to cherish them with more pious assiduity. 
 Their pensions are an insufficient recom- 
 pense of their merits, for the plain reason 
 that they scarcely fought for mercenary 
 considerations. Even those who expected 
 pay, and sometimes could not obtain it from 
 the continental treasury, would have died 
 rather than touch the gold of the enemy. 
 On the anniversaries of our independence, 
 I would therefore assign to all who had any 
 share in accomplishing the revolution, a dis- 
 tinct place in our civic processions. The 
 orator of the day should add interest to 
 his performance by an address to their ven- 
 erable corps. They should be escorted to 
 the festive hall, they should be entertained 
 as honoured guests, they should be toasted, 
 
 * This paragraph, as well as the whole book, was 
 written a year before the Bunker Hill Monument 
 Celebration.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 117 
 
 and the toast should be drunk standing, and 
 the chaplain of the day should offer prayers 
 for their long and uninterrupted happiness, 
 both in this world and the next. 
 
 But this last idea brings me round again 
 to the reverend choir, on which was fastened 
 the other end of my chain of patriotic re- 
 flections. Those of my readers, who are 
 interested as much in the links of a dynasty 
 as in the more general facts of a history, 
 may wish to know who was regarded as the 
 leader among that group of antiques. And 
 the question is pertinent enough. For al- 
 though they were too far advanced in years 
 beyond the miserable vanities of musical 
 pretension, and were now too much on a 
 mutual level in point of abilities or skill, to 
 be actuated by any aspiring ambition, yet 
 they had also too much experience in the 
 affairs of life, not to be aware of the neces- 
 sity of some ostensible head, in order to 
 manage even the humblest common concern 
 with requisite harmony and effect. The 
 person, therefore, whom, rather by a tacit,
 
 118 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 reciprocal understanding, than any formal 
 nomination, or elective acclamation, they 
 made choice of for their conductor, was 
 Colonel John Wilkins, otherwise called 
 Colonel John Ticonderoga, the veteran, 
 whose hoary locks were above described, 
 and who had been the first to suggest to the 
 others this laudable scheme. Let those 
 who take pride in such humble matters as 
 dates and names, remember him, therefore, 
 as the sixth leader of the choir at Waterfield, 
 whose acts are recorded in this faithful 
 chronicle. 
 
 My engagement in New Hampshire hav- 
 ing expired, I returned home to pursue my 
 studies. Affairs had, by this time, assumed 
 a much brighter aspect. I found, on my 
 arrival, that nearly all the females belonging 
 to the late choir, had volunteered a renewal 
 of their delightful services. How difficult 
 it is for woman to persevere in error ! 
 Though, physically speaking, the weaker 
 party, yet how often she resists the sinister 
 example of the other sex, and proves herself
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 119 
 
 superior in the strength of her moral 
 powers. The fair ones of my native parish 
 were the first to perceive the unhappy mis- 
 take into which they had been betrayed, and 
 the first to acknowledge and practically re- 
 tract it. Candour requires me to make 
 these statements and reflections, though it 
 were much to be wished that the occasion 
 for it never had existed. But I was willing 
 to forget all the resentment with which I had 
 before wondered at their conduct, when I 
 contemplated the novel and beautiful specta- 
 cle that now charmed my imagination. Show 
 me a more interesting picture than reverend 
 and trembling age associated with blooming 
 and youthful beauty in chanting the praises 
 of their common Creator. It struck me as 
 an instance of a kind of inoral counterpoint, 
 more thrilling to the soul than the sweetest 
 or the grandest harmony of mere sound. 
 Willingly would I have refrained from inter- 
 posing my indifferent voice, had not duty 
 and persuasion united to re-conduct me to 
 the seats.
 
 120 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 The experience of life certainly brings 
 every man into strange combinations and 
 juxta-positions with his fellow beings. Yet, 
 was not mine at the present time rather 
 peculiar ? What fate, what hidden sympathy, 
 what kindred gravity of character, drew me 
 into special personal contact and cooperation 
 with four of the most reverend seniors of the 
 land ? The contemplation of this new atti- 
 tude of rny presiding genius, had sometimes 
 almost too powerful an effect on my imagin- 
 ation. I began to entertain doubts of my 
 own age. At times I thought it my duty to 
 study a new system of ethics and manners, 
 corresponding to my situation. I wished 
 occasionally that Cicero's Treatise on Old 
 Age might be substituted in place of his 
 Orations against Catiline, which I was then 
 reading, as preparatory to my admission into 
 college. 
 
 But the dreams of this whimsical hal- 
 lucination soon fled away, as the months 
 advanced, and Mr Welby's voice regained 
 its usual health and mellowness, and my
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR 121 
 
 venerated fathers in harmony found it too 
 much for their comfort to ascend the stairs 
 on the enfeebling days of spring. Besides, 
 if any thing could have restrained the pecu- 
 liar wanderings of my mind above described, 
 it was the condition in which I was now 
 left. Exposed singly to the fire of a whole 
 battery of eyes and voices from the flower 
 of the parish, and compelled, by my very 
 duty, to maintain constant communications 
 and consultations with them, I was soon 
 reminded, by certain indescribably interest- 
 ing and perplexing feelings in my breast, 
 that I had many years yet to pass, before I 
 could aspire to the honours, the abstracted 
 attention, and the composure of old age. 
 
 But though I pretend not to have been 
 exempt from the susceptibilities now alluded 
 to, I call on every scrutinizing spectator, 
 (there having been several of that character 
 at church) to bear witness to the unremitted 
 propriety of my deportment during the sum- 
 mer and autumn which I passed in that 
 critical situation. No manifestation of par- 
 11
 
 122 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 tialities, no encouragement of female frivoli- 
 ties, and no unfeeling neglect or inattention, 
 that I have ever heard of or imagined, were 
 or could be laid to my charge. Our singing, 
 I may confidently say without undue self- 
 flattery, continued to be of no ordinary 
 merit, though we could not welcome one 
 accession to my own side of the choir. 
 Several strong and rich voices on the other 
 side, took the tenor or air of each tune, the 
 rest of them united in a melodious treble, 
 and Mr Welby and myself put forth our 
 whole vocal powers in supporting them with 
 the bass. Such was the uninterrupted meth- 
 od we pursued, until the approach of winter 
 again called me to a distant place, to replen- 
 ish my little funds with the emoluments of 
 a district schoolmaster. 
 
 The destinies of our choir were now pro- 
 vided for in a manner, somewhat remarkable, 
 but not, I believe, altogether unexampled 
 elsewhere in our country. The first inten- 
 tion of the ladies was to leave the seats 
 immediately after my departure. Had it
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 123 
 
 been executed, every thing might have been 
 thrown back into the deplorable condition in 
 which I had left affairs the preceding winter. 
 Two of my late venerable fellow choristers 
 were now already gathered to the land of 
 silence, and there were no hopes of obtain- 
 ing a leader from any quarter. In this 
 emergency, Mrs Martha Shrinknot proffered 
 her services, and undertook the management 
 of the whole department, until I should my- 
 self return and resume it. She was a lady, 
 not much past the age of thirty years. Be- 
 ing of an active and inquisitive turn of mind, 
 she had long since made herself acquainted 
 with the mysteries of setting a psalm tune, 
 knew its key note at a glance, and had fre- 
 quently, on private occasions, even before 
 her marriage, given out the leading tones to 
 the different parts, when passing an evening 
 with a few musical friends, who preferred 
 extracting an hour of rational pleasure from 
 the Village Harmony, to the frivolous en- 
 tertainments of cards, coquetry, and scan- 
 dal.
 
 124 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 It might be out of place here, to follow 
 Mrs Martha Shrinknot home, and exhibit 
 her superintending the best ordered family, 
 and the most profitable dairy in the county. 
 My concern with her now is in her public 
 capacity, and I may say with truth, that a 
 leader of more accuracy, more judgment, 
 more self-possession, and more spirited en- 
 ergy, never took charge of the Waterfield 
 choir, nor, as I think, of any other choir. 
 
 Her outset on the first Sabbath succeeded 
 to admiration ; and there was every prospect 
 that her reign, though short, would be one 
 of uninterrupted brilliancy and felicity. But 
 an ill star seemed to hover over the spot, 
 and new troubles soon arose to disturb the 
 peace and crush the hopes of the lovers of 
 sacred song. 
 
 Among the females of the choir, was a 
 young woman of much comeliness, modest 
 demeanour, and an unsullied character, who 
 had been living in one of the richer families 
 of the village, under the denomination of 
 help. I approve the feeling which has sub-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 125 
 
 stituted this word for the offensive one of 
 servant. Servant seems to stamp an ir- 
 retrievable character on the person who 
 bears the appellation. It is less general 
 and vague than the word help. The latter 
 seems to admit into the mind a sense of 
 independence and a hope of rising in the 
 world. As long as Mirabeau's maxim is 
 true, that names are things, let the young 
 heirs of poverty and dependence in free 
 America, solace themselves with the sub- 
 stantial comfort of assuming a title, which 
 places them, in imagination at least, on a 
 level with their employers, and soothes the 
 sting which may now and then fret their 
 bosoms, when contemplating the unavoidable 
 inequalities of fortune. For alas ! not even 
 will this slight change of name secure them 
 from numerous embarrassments and mortifi- 
 cations, as will be seen in the case of Mary 
 Wentworth, the intelligent young woman 
 abovementioned. 
 
 The singing-pew for the females contain- 
 ed three long benches, rising one above an- 
 11*
 
 126 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 other, and receding from the front of the 
 gallery. Mary Wentworth had occupied 
 an unassuming seat on the uppermost of 
 these benches for about three years. At 
 her first appearance there, there had been 
 no little stir among certain of the vocal sis- 
 terhood ; a few airs were put on ; a few 
 whispers circulated ; a few stares directed 
 at the modest stranger ; and the seats of 
 some of the young ladies were vacated for 
 a few succeeding Sabbaths. But most of 
 them returned sooner or later on better re- 
 flection, or on a reviving desire to bear their 
 part in the melodies of the place, and Mary 
 thenceforward was scarcely disturbed by 
 any kind of notice whatever. Nevertheless, 
 her singing was envied by some, and admir- 
 ed by all. To say the truth, she had no 
 equal in this parish, and few elsewhere. 
 Her voice was enchanting in its tones, and 
 astonishing in its compass. She was a per- 
 fect mistress of the art, as far as it can reach 
 perfection in the practice of our country 
 choirs. She was fit to bear a conspicuous
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 127 
 
 part in an oratorio, and would have well 
 repaid any degree of scientific cultivation. 
 
 Mrs Shrinknot, who knew not, or affected 
 not to know the squeamishness respecting 
 rank, that was entertained by some of the 
 young ladies, took occasion, on the afternoon 
 of the second Sabbath succeeding her in- 
 duction into office, to exercise her lawful 
 authority, by inviting Mary Wentworth 
 down to the front seat, and placing her at 
 her own right hand. She wished for the 
 support of her voice, and the assistance to 
 be derived from occasionally consulting her. 
 
 On the next Sunday, Mrs Shrinknot was 
 seized with an illness which prevented her 
 leaving home. She sent for Mary, and 
 after much persuasion, prevailed upon her 
 to go that day and assume the direction of 
 the choir. 
 
 The maiden went early, that she might 
 prepare herself, by time and meditation, with 
 sufficient self-possession, and avoid the flur- 
 ry of passing by others in order to arrive at 
 the post which had been assigned her. She
 
 128 THE VILLAGE CHOIR, 
 
 had not been seated there long, when she 
 observed two young ladies, who had for 
 some years pretty regularly attended the 
 choir, entering into a pew below with the rest 
 of their family. This was soon followed by 
 several other instances of the same kind, 
 and poor Mary's heart began to sink within 
 her. She looked frequently and anxiously 
 round, in the hope that some, or at least 
 that one individual would arrive to shield 
 her from the oppression of overwhelming no- 
 toriety. In vain ! there had been visitings, 
 and murmurings, and resolutions, through 
 the whole of the preceding week, and what 
 with the pride of some, who could not en- 
 dure that a girl at service should aspire at 
 an equality with themselves, and the envy 
 of others, whose ears were pained, (as they 
 used to say, though in a different sense from 
 my use of the word,) with the tones of Polly 
 Wentworth's voice, and the indignation of 
 others, that the long established order of 
 sitting should be disturbed, and the pusil- 
 lanimity of others, who had neither souls 

 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 129 
 
 nor pretensions large enough to be proud, or 
 envious, or angry, but who quivered on the 
 pivot, and vibrated to whichever side the 
 multitude inclined, not a bonnet was forth- 
 coming to gladden the eyes of that fair and 
 desolate housemaid. 
 
 Yet, though a girl of the most modest, 
 and unpretending character, Mary Went- 
 worth had an energy of soul, and a sterling 
 good sense which enabled her to encounter 
 every emergency with composure, and to 
 act according to the demands of the occa- 
 sion. Mr Welby, after waiting a quarter of 
 an hour beyond the usual time, and not 
 knowing himself, poor man, what course he 
 ought to pursue, balancing between his fear 
 of hurting the young woman's feelings, and 
 his duty as a clergyman, at length resolved 
 to commence the services with a psalm, 
 which he read, and proceeded to sing to the 
 tenor-part of a tune, that happened to be 
 the universal favourite of the congregation. 
 
 Mary Wentworth rose and joined him in 
 the same part. Mr Welby immediately
 
 130 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 permitted his voice to slide, with a graceful 
 and almost imperceptible transition, to the 
 bass, with which he continued to accompany 
 her. The air was of a slightly pathetic 
 description, and thus accorded well with the 
 state of her heart. To say that there was 
 not a little effervescence of republican feel- 
 ing, also, which prompted her, on that occa- 
 sion, to put forth the whole blazing extent 
 of her musical powers, would be, to arrogate 
 for the fine creature a sort of angelical per- 
 fection, and to raise a doubt, whether the 
 institutions, for which our fathers bled, have 
 communicated to every one who moves over 
 the land, a sense of individual dignity and 
 importance. Yet, although grief and re- 
 sentment were both labouring at her heart, 
 her strength of character, and her instinc- 
 tive perception of the proprieties of the 
 place, suffered no more of either to predomi- 
 nate, than was exactly sufficient to infuse 
 into her performance that combination of 
 melancholy and animation, which is the last 
 golden accomplishment of the female voice.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 131 
 
 In fact, she was surprised at the excel- 
 lence of her own singing, and this very 
 surprise constantly stimulated her to higher 
 and higher efforts. Her situation and feet- 
 ings inspired new powers, of which she was 
 unconscious before, and inspiration seemed 
 to create and follow inspiration, like the 
 metaphysical loves in the bosom of Anacreon. 
 The effect on the audience was prodigious. 
 At first, there reigned the silence of aston- 
 ishment that she could summon the confi- 
 dence to sing. This was very soon ex- 
 changed for the feeling and the rustling of 
 admiration. A kind of anguish now seized 
 upon the hearts of some of the generous 
 young ladies who had that morning left the 
 choir. They were half willing to be back 
 again there, if for no other purpose than to 
 drown her voice, and dilute the attention so 
 lavishly and improperly bestowed on a hu- 
 man being in the place of worship. 
 
 But the impropriety of this admiration 
 appeared to be forgotten by even the gravest 
 and most devout among the audience. As
 
 132 THE VILLAGE CHOIU. 
 
 Mary and the pastor proceeded from verse 
 to verse, one after another of their male lis- 
 teners rose, and turned their faces towards 
 the gallery, so that by the time the psalm 
 was concluded, and Mr Welby had laid 
 aside his book, to invite his people, in a low 
 and solemn tone, to the worship of God, one 
 half of the assembly were already in the 
 posture assumed by congregationalists, after 
 the manner of primitive Christians, in the 
 hour of public prayer. 
 
 From seeming evil is educed real good. 
 The general compassion and admiration ex- 
 cited by the case of Mary Wentworth, now 
 presented an opportunity which had been 
 long desired among the singers of the other 
 sex, to return with a good grace to the seats. 
 By going thither again, ostensibly for the 
 purpose of encouraging and protecting a 
 persecuted young woman, they would screen 
 themselves from the mortification of appear- 
 ing to regret and retract their former con- 
 duct. Accordingly, a deputation of ten, on 
 the afternoon of this day, resorted to the
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 133 
 
 spot in the capacity of harbingers or pioneers. 
 In consequence of the continued illness of 
 Mrs Shrinknot, the females generally de- 
 clined to follow their example, entertaining 
 in their minds an insurmountable objection 
 against submitting to the substitute whom 
 she had appointed, notwithstanding the over- 
 flow of popularity that was now pouring to- 
 wards that substitute. Not a lady, there- 
 fore, was to be seen ascending the stairs in 
 the afternoon, with the exception of Mary 
 herself, who came and resumed her former 
 long-occupied seat on the most retired bench 
 in the singing-pew, from which, no entrea- 
 ties, or arguments, or considerations, urged 
 by Mrs Shrinknot or others, could ever af- 
 ter induce her to remove. The noble girl 
 saw the hopelessness of contending against 
 a host of jealous and restless prejudices, 
 and cared for nothing in that place, so much 
 as peace and good singing. 
 
 Mr Welby was still obliged to act as pre- 
 centor during the remainder of the day. 
 The new recruits for the vocal service, the 
 12
 
 134 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 sight of whom gladdened his heart, felt un- 
 equal to the task of executing that function 
 among themselves. After he had read the 
 first psalm in the afternoon, and they had 
 waited some time for him to begin the sing- 
 ing of it, he perceived what was wanting, 
 and speedily commenced a tune. He did 
 the same with the two other hymns for that 
 day. Mary would instantaneously take the 
 treble, and her companions joined her, one 
 after another, according as they could seize 
 the parts belonging to them. After a few 
 trifling mistakes in the bass, which the good 
 ears, however, of those who committed them, 
 were able immediately to correct, they suc- 
 ceeded in making themselves all masters of 
 the air before the conclusion of the first 
 verse, and then proceeded with tolerable 
 spirit and correctness to the end of the 
 hymn. 
 
 On my return home, I had the felicity to 
 find the choir in a more flourishing condition 
 than it had enjoyed for a long time. About 
 twenty of my own sex occupied the octago-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIH. 135 
 
 nal box, and somewhat less than that number 
 were induced by the recovery and presence 
 of Mrs Shrinknot, and the prudent humility 
 of Mary, to fill the two lower seats of the 
 adjoining pew. These were all in the best 
 training possible under the management of 
 the former powerful lady, who, on receiving 
 the keynote from the bachelor-merchant's 
 bass-viol, immediately sounded forth the 
 melodious fall of fa, sol, la, fa, and distribu- 
 ted the leading notes round to the performers 
 of each of the four parts ; that comple- 
 ment being sometimes effected by an ani- 
 mated counter from the lips of Mary Went- 
 worth. 
 
 From this time until the succeeding au- 
 tumn, when I entered college, I discharged 
 the duties of chief singer without interrup- 
 tion. It was a smoothly spun and brightly 
 dyed portion of the thread of my life. The 
 choir was making constant improvements, 
 and receiving now and then accessions 
 to its numbers, as was to be expected from 
 the exercise of regularity and perseverance 
 in the main body.
 
 136 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 Very few occurrences happened to dis- 
 turb the full cup of satisfaction which I was 
 now enjoying in peace and gratitude. I 
 cannot, however, omit mentioning one mo- 
 mentary dash of bitter, that was casually 
 mingled with its sweets. In the middle of 
 Mr Welby's long prayer, one July morning, 
 the composure of the congregation was 
 startled by the loud crack of a whip before 
 the meetinghouse. Two or three of the 
 younger members of the choir immediately 
 rushed on tip-toe out of the singing seats to 
 the windows, from which they beheld a gig 
 and tandem approaching rapidly to the door, 
 and saw a pair of gaily dressed gentlemen 
 alight therefrom. In a moment after, we 
 heard the confident and conscious footsteps 
 of their creaking yellow-top boots ascending 
 the stairs, and on turning my eyes, but not 
 my body in that direction, whom should I 
 behold but my old acquaintance and competi- 
 tor Mr Forehead, accompanied by a gentle- 
 manly-looking friend ? They had ridden 
 that morning from Boston, where Mr Fore-
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 137 
 
 head was a successful attorney of much re- 
 pute in ***** Alley. They both came 
 into the octagonal pew with the same unem- 
 barrassed freedom that they would have 
 entered a bar-room, and took the first vacant 
 seats in their way ; but on reconnoitring, 
 and finding everybody around them in a 
 standing posture, they exchanged smiles of 
 some confusion with each other, and arose 
 again. From Mr Forehead's familiar nod 
 to me, I should have thought I had seen him 
 but yesterday, instead of parting with him 
 full two years before. I should have re- 
 turned it with a solemn bow, had not the 
 service which Mr Welby was now perform- 
 ing made it improper for me to bestow on 
 him the slightest recognition. Their assist- 
 ance in the tune which soon succeeded, was 
 very fine, and very acceptable to the choir 
 and congregation. They joined us again, 
 however, in the afternoon, and while we 
 were singing the first psalm, they thought 
 proper instead of lending us their voices, to 
 accompany us with a singular slridor, emitted 
 12*
 
 138 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 through the nearly closed lips, and resem- 
 bling something between the sound of a 
 bassoon, and the lowest tone of a bass-viol. 
 Some of the choir were frightened, some 
 were shocked, and some very nearly burst 
 out with laughter. My own distress was 
 inconceivable. I felt haunted by Mr Fore- 
 head. Rendered absolutely disheartened 
 at the thought of enduring that sacrilegious, 
 though I confess not entirely inharmonious 
 buzz through the two remaining hymns, I 
 retired from the meetinghouse and went 
 home. Mr Forehead immediately assumed 
 my office, for the afternoon, and his friend, 
 at the request of Mrs Shrinknot, exchanged 
 his imitative experiments for more natural 
 and appropriate tones. 
 
 This, however, was the most disagreeable 
 episode in the present poetic period of my 
 existence. It is doubtful whether at length 
 the separation from my own family, caused 
 me a keener pang, than the thought that I 
 must resign, and perhaps forever, all con- 
 nexion with a little circle, in which I had
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 139 
 
 lately enjoyed, to so eminent a degree, the 
 double privilege of receiving happiness and 
 doing good. 
 
 After my departure, a variety of causes, 
 unnecessary to be detailed, contributed to 
 the gradual decline and ultimate extinction 
 of the choir on its old foundation. My 
 shorter college-vacations I spent at home, 
 and in vain endeavoured to arrest this mel- 
 ancholy tendency by the few exertions I 
 could make to rally the scattered members. 
 Sometimes I found that a miserable kind of 
 contest had been waged between Mrs 
 Shrinknot, and the singers of the other sex, 
 who made all the efforts in their power to 
 emancipate themselves from the mortifying 
 dominion of a woman. But they could 
 never succeed, not a man among them pos- 
 sessing sufficient tact, knowledge, and pres- 
 ence, to carry off the business of a leader 
 well. The singing was always decent un- 
 der her management, but under theirs, it 
 was perpetually liable to mistakes, interrup- 
 tions, languishments, and helpless amaze-
 
 140 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ments. There was, however, no open, clam- 
 orous warfare between the two parties, but 
 only on one side the restless attempts of 
 pride to repair its own mortifications, and 
 on the other the calm defiance of conscious 
 superiority. They avoided an actual clash- 
 ing before the congregation. The lady al- 
 ways affected a perfect readiness to yield 
 her authority, whenever there were gentle- 
 men present who chose to set the psalm. 
 But this state of things of course produced 
 frequent embarrassments in the choir. The 
 bowings and the consultations between Mrs 
 Shrinknot and the gentlemen, occasioned by 
 doubts respecting the propriety of particular 
 tunes and other matters,were frequently pro- 
 tracted long after the minister had read the 
 psalm or hymn, and the congregation would 
 sit waiting and wondering for the music to 
 begin. Meanwhile, as was to be expected, 
 several of the least zealous members of the 
 choir, would from time to time steal off from 
 their duties, to sit below, rather than be wit- 
 nesses and partakers of such pitiable scenes.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 141 
 
 The prosperity of my former hobby was 
 still further affected by the introduction of 
 theological perplexities. A naming young 
 preacher, who carried some points of ortho- 
 doxy considerably further than I could then, 
 or can even now approve, had been recently 
 settled in a neighbouring town, and exchang- 
 ed services one Sabbath with Mr Welby. 
 Tall of stature, cadaverous in aspect, and 
 gloomy in his address as the very depths of 
 midnight, he arose, and after pausing three 
 minutes, during which his eyes were rivetted 
 on hi,3 book, he gave out the forty fourth 
 hymn of the Second Book of Dr Watts, in 
 a voice a full octave below that tone which 
 is commonly called the sepulchral. The 
 hymn is a terrific combination of images re- 
 specting the future abode of the wicked, 
 and contains, among others of a similar na- 
 ture the two following verses : 
 
 ' Far in the deep where darkness dwells, 
 The land of horror and despair, 
 Justice hath built a dismal hell, 
 And laid her stores of vengeance there.
 
 142 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 ' Eternal plagues, and heavy chains, 
 Tormenting racks, and fiery coals, 
 And darts to inflict immortal pains, 
 Dy'd in the blood of damned souls ! ' 
 
 On that day the person who undertook to 
 act as leader of the choir, was a middle-aged 
 tinplate-worker, who had recently become 
 a warm convert to the doctrines of Univer- 
 salism. There were a few of his own per- 
 suasion in the singing-seats, and there were 
 some, who thought little of the matter either 
 one way or the other, but who would gladly 
 have excused themselves from singing the 
 appointed lines, if others of a milder charac- 
 ter could be substituted. 
 
 Mrs Shrinknot was born to be finally an 
 ultra-religionist, but she had not yet taken 
 her decided part in polemics. Her imagin- 
 ation had been much wrought upon at this 
 very moment by the novel phenomenon in 
 the pulpit. She was already an incipient 
 convert ; already prepared to yield up her 
 mind to the whole influence of his manner, 
 and the whole demands of his doctrines.
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 143 
 
 When she perceived, therefore, that a ma- 
 jority of singers in the octagon had come to 
 a resolution not to sing the forty fourth 
 hymn, second book, nor even a single verse 
 of it, her whole soul was inflamed with the 
 spirit of personal and controversial opposi- 
 tion, and she has since dated her entire con- 
 version from that moment. She turned round 
 to Mary Wentworth, and requested her sup- 
 port, as she was about to rise and commence 
 the hymn, in spite of the fixed resolutions of 
 the other side of the choir. Mary shook 
 her head with her usual firmness, and 
 her friend appeared for a moment daunted. 
 But at length when a sufficient time had 
 elapsed to put the congregation out of all 
 patience, and the young theologian had aris- 
 en again from his seat, and was leaning far 
 over the cushion, with eyes prying into the 
 gallery, to ascertain, if possible, the cause 
 of the delay, Mrs Shrinknot, at the very 
 moment of her rising to commence the hymn 
 alone, was interrupted and astonished by the 
 following dialogue which took place between
 
 144 THE VILLAGE CIIOIK. 
 
 the tinplate-workcr leaning over the gallery, 
 and the clergyman leaning over the pulpit. 
 
 Tinplate-worker. ' You are requested, 
 Reverend Sir, to give out another hymn.' 
 
 Minister. ' Why am I requested to do so, 
 Sir ?' 
 
 Tinplate-worker. ' We do not approve of 
 the sentiments of the hymn you have just 
 read.' 
 
 Minister. ' I decline reading any other.' 
 
 Tinplate-worker. ' Then we decline sing- 
 ing, Sir.' 
 
 Minister. (After pausing some time with 
 a look of wretched anxiety, sorrow, indigna- 
 tion, and horror, at what he felt was a sacri- 
 legious violation of his undoubted authority) 
 c Let us pray.' 
 
 The congregation obeyed his direction, so 
 far as rising on their feet could be so doing ; 
 but had he said, { Let us speculate on the 
 scene that has just occurred,' his exhortation 
 would have obtained a far more universal 
 compliance that day than is generally paid 
 to dictations from the sacred desk, and would
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 145 
 
 have corresponded with marvellous exact- 
 ness to what actually rolled over and over 
 in the minds of the audience, while the min- 
 ister himself was beginning at the fall, and 
 going through the whole body of divinity in 
 his prayer, dwelling at much length and 
 with peculiar emphasis on the most dreadful 
 realities of the future world. 
 
 Of course, during the ensuing week, the 
 parish was in an uproar. The communing 
 members, technically called the church, who 
 bore omnipotent sway in the internal affairs 
 of the congregation, pressed upon Mr Wel- 
 by the execution of this rule, viz : that he 
 should begin at the beginning of Watts's 
 Psalm Book on the next Lord's Day, and 
 proceeding regularly through that book, 
 cause every verse of every psalm and hymn 
 without omission or exception to be sung in 
 their existing order, and never should depart 
 therefrom, Watts, like the Common Prayer 
 Book in the Church of England, receiving, 
 in many parts of this region, an equal rev- 
 erence with the Bible. 
 13
 
 146 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 
 
 But the measures taken to secure sound 
 doctrine, were ill-calculated to preserve 
 good singing. From this moment my poor 
 choir laboured with its death-wound. Occa- 
 sionally considerable numbers would attend 
 it, and even the tinplate-worker condescend- 
 ed to lend his services, when he could look 
 forward and ascertain that the psalms for the 
 day interfered not with his ultra-latitudinarian 
 creed. But there was no system, no regu- 
 larity, no zeal, none of that essential espril- 
 de-corps, which constitutes the very life of a 
 band of singers. You could more easily 
 calculate on the weather of an approaching 
 Sabbath, than you could on its music. A 
 visit of Mr Murray, the Universalist preach- 
 er, to the neighbourhood, was certain to 
 draw three quarters of the choir away. 
 Mary Wentworth departed to keep school at 
 Hampton Falls. Mrs Shrinknot, disgusted 
 with the moderation of Mr Welby, who has 
 always satisfied myself with his mild ortho- 
 doxy, rode constantly several miles to attend 
 the ministrations of the young divine, who
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 147 
 
 had innocently caused an accelerated decay 
 of the choir. A sense of the unfashionable- 
 ness of singing at the meetinghouse, would 
 at times pervade all the females of the vil- 
 lage, and keep them for several znonths in 
 their pews below. A hundred caprices, a 
 hundred quarrels, rose one after another, in 
 quicker succession, and of more paltry na- 
 ture than I can permit myself to describe. 
 The very knowledge of sacred music seemed 
 to be fast decaying. No recruits from the 
 rising generation prepared themselves as 
 formerly to take part in this interesting por- 
 tion of worship. No movement was started 
 from any quarter to effect a better order of 
 things. All classes were sunk in musical 
 apathy. The Village Harmony and other 
 Collections belonging to the seats, were 
 carried off and never recovered. Many of 
 the benches in the octagon were broken 
 down by idle boys who went to overlook the 
 doings of town-meetings, and were omitted 
 to be repaired. A feeble attempt was gen- 
 erally made to sing once on each part of the
 
 148 THE VILLAGE CHOIft. 
 
 day, but that precariously depended on Mr 
 Welby's feelings and state of health. And 
 if now and then a scattered worshipper or 
 two straggled into the seats, it was either 
 because they wished to change their places 
 at church for the mere sake of variety, or 
 because they could call no other spot their 
 own. 
 
 Such was the condition in which I found 
 the once flourishing singing-pew at Water- 
 field, when, after having passed four years 
 in Harvard College, and three in a lawyer's 
 office in the county of Bristol, I came and 
 nailed up a professional sign in the centre 
 of my native village. On the first Sabbath, 
 instinct led me to the spot. In going to the 
 meetinghouse, I confess I felt too much 
 complacency in the conscious improvement 
 which the preceding seven years had effect- 
 ed in my mind and person. But, alas ! this 
 momentary infirmity was full severely pun- 
 ished, when, on approaching the singing-pew, 
 I perceived it too desolate and dusty to be 
 occupied. I passed a mournful day ; but
 
 THE VILLAGE CHOIR. 149 
 
 better times and better things ere long arose, 
 which I may perhaps be able to recount at 
 some future period, when, (if my present 
 essay find favor with an indulgent public, and 
 my leisure from an increasing business per- 
 mit,) I shall attempt the History of a New 
 England Singing School.
 
 date stamped below 
 
 jftNSO 1952 ' 
 
 3m-2,'45(3232)