'Sweetness to My Sense'

R.S. Gwynn takes a story related by Izaak Walton in The Life of Mr. George Herbert (1670) and turns it into a poetic  fable of humility and service. Here is “Music at Midnight,” published in the Summer 2016 issue of The Sewanee Review and dedicated “After Walton, for W. Brown Patterson”: 

“Mr. Herbert entered, so befouled with mud and shit

His Tuesday consort, ready with their silent lutes,

Were all aghast, save one who asked, with a wag’s wit,

‘Crawled you here from Old Sarum’s pits or on worser routes?’

 

He said, ‘I came upon a poor man and his horse.

The wretched beast had fallen underneath its load;

I engaged to right him and set both upon the road,

And the hour going, in this fair state resumed my course.

 

“‘I tell you this as fact. In all humility

I take no credit for the deed yet must confess

Had I not stopped today for them I could not bless,

In faith, the wafer and the wine. Thus this shall be

For me, music at midnight, sweetness to my sense.

Now, gentlemen, time flies. Let's tune our instruments.’”

 

What a fine way to evaluate a virtuous act and a day of blessings. John Drury borrowed the title of his 2013 biography of the poet, Music at Midnight: The Life & Poetry of George Herbert, from the Walton anecdote:

 

“In another walk to Salisbury, he saw a poor man with a poorer horse, that was fallen under his load: they were both in distress, and needed present help; which Mr. Herbert perceiving, put off his canonical coat, and helped the poor man to unload, and after to load, his horse. The poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man; and was so like the Good Samaritan, that he gave him money to refresh both himself and his horse; and told him, ‘That if he loved himself he should be merciful to his beast.’ Thus he left the poor man; and at his coming to his musical friends at Salisbury, they began to wonder that Mr. George Herbert, which used to be so trim and clean, came into that company so soiled and discomposed: but he told them the occasion. And when one of the company told him, ‘He had disparaged himself by so dirty an employment,’ his answer was, ‘That the thought of what he had done would prove music to him at midnight; and that the omission of it would have upbraided and made discord in his conscience, whensoever he should pass by that place: for if I be bound to pray for all that be in distress, I am sure that I am bound, so far as it is in my power, to practice what I pray for. And though I do not wish for the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you, I wou1d not willingly pass one day of my life without comforting a sad soul, or shewing mercy; and I praise God for this occasion. And now let’s tune our instruments.’”

 

My arthritis has grown more severe. I’ve used a cane for seven years but the pain in my knees has colonized my right shoulder and elsewhere. On Thursday, while walking to the entrance of the library at Rice University, an athletic-looking young man asked if he could carry my book bag. I was almost at the door so I demurred and thanked him. On Sunday, in the grocery store parking lot, while pushing the cart with my left hand and holding my cane in the right, a black woman not much younger than me, obviously dressed for church, asked if I needed a hand. I declined and thanked her. There’s so much unsuspected kindness in the world.