Company Of Spears

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ began Somervile, stentor-like. ‘From the sublime heights of Italian opera I take you to the English countryside, and Mr Henry Fielding’s “A Hunting We Will Go”, with music by … I forget whom.’

There were appreciative Yoicks! from the squirearchy.

Emma began the jaunting little 6/8 introduction, Somervile sounded the off, slapped his thigh with the whip and took up the boisterous verse:

The dusky night rides do-own the sky,

And ushers in the morn:

The hounds all join in glorious cry,

The hounds all join in glorious cry,

The hu-untsman wi-inds his ho-o-o-orn,

The huntsman winds his horn.

Emma joined in the refrain:

And a-hunting we will go,

A-hunting we will go,

A-hu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-unt,

A-hu-unting we will go!

Somervile sounded the off again, and Emma took up the second verse:

The wife around her hu-usband throws

Her arms, to make him stay;

My dear, it rains, it hai-ils, it blows;

My dear, it rains, it hai-ils, it blows;

You ca-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-not,

You cannot hunt today.

Somervile resumed the refrain:

Yet a-hunting we will go.

A-hunting we will go,

A-hu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-unt,

A-hu-unting we will go!

And then the next verses:

The uncaverned fox like li-ightning flies,

His cunning’s all awake,

To gain the race he e-eager tries,

To gain the race he e-eager tries,

His fo-orfeit li-ife the sta-a-a-ake,

His fo-orfeit life the stake.

Yet a-hunting we will go.

A-hunting we will go,

A-hu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-unt,

A-hu-unting we will go!

At last his strength to faintness worn,

Poor Reynard ceases flight;

He stopped dramatically and sounded the kill – and then Emma joined for the finale:

Then hungry, homeward we-e return,

Then hungry, homeward we-e return,

To fe-east awa-ay the ni-i-i-ight,

To feast away the night!

And a-hunting we do go.

A-hunting we do go,

A-hu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-unt,

A-hu-unting we do go!

The applause was long and vigorous. Hervey beamed with sheer pleasure at so uninhibited a performance. Here was a couple as perfectly matched as may be, full of refinement in the purlieus of the Court, dazzling in learning and conversation at Fort William, and yet as lusty as Fielding’s best in the shires. At that moment he would have thrown in everything to go with them to the Cape.

Only Kezia Lankester seemed not to share the ebullience of the chase, though she applauded politely, smiling. No doubt it was a proper sensibility, thought Hervey, for the others were in familiar company, and of spouses, whereas she was not.

He went up to her as tea was brought in. ‘Lady Lankester, your singing was delightful.’

She smiled a little, as if tired (Hervey realized that singing of such refinement as hers was not without prodigious effort, whatever the appearance to the contrary). ‘Thank you, Major Hervey.’ And then, seemingly as an afterthought, she asked, ‘You are fond of music?’

Hervey cleared his throat. It was true to say that he liked the noise that music made, especially if it were played by a military band (the Sixth had always kept a good band), and he had liked what he had just heard of hers, but … ‘Indeed yes, madam.’

‘“The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.”’

It was familiar, but … ‘Just so.’

She smiled a little broader, as if taking pity on him. ‘Do you know the rest, Major Hervey?’

Hervey returned the smile, but he was suddenly determined that Kezia Lankester, at ten years his junior, should not get away entirely with her tease. ‘It is some time, I confess, since I opened a book of Shakespeare, madam, but I hazard a recall of something about the man’s dull nature?’

‘You recall very commendably, Major Hervey. “The motions of his spirit are dull as night, and his affections dark as Erebus: let no such man be trusted.”’