Jack, Knave and Fool Read Online Free PDF Page A

he were one who wished to appear young and vigorous still.
    “I must apologize for him,” said Mr. Humber to the table, in a voice perhaps too loud. “He does make an awful fool of himself.”
    Lord Laningham would then speak his piece before the music could begin. Yet it was brief. “Dear friends of ancient music, we have a fine program for you this evening, we do, and all of it by our favorite, Mr. Handel, may the good Lord keep his soul. Well, there’s the Ode for St. Cecilia j Day, of course, but that’s a bit later.” He stopped a moment, hemmed and hawed, then turned and sought the aid of the musicians. “Ah yes, we begin with two of Mr. Handel’s grand concertos, the first two, I’m told, of… what is it now?” Again he turned to the orchestra. Then: “Of Opus three, I’m told. Mr. Concertmaster?”
    With that, Lord Laningham withdrew to a chair of honor placed before the orchestra and facing out toward the audience. He seated himself but kept in hand that staff with which he had ascended to the stage; it was gilt-painted and had at its upper end a round bulb of good size, such as would fill a man’s hand.
    The concertmaster, which is to say the violin player nearest us, stood, taking the attention of the musicians, and began them on the first piece of the program. Remarkable it was how all managed to start together under his direction; once they were playing, however, he seated himself and played as one of the many. Indeed there were many — thirty-three, as I counted them—divided between strings and horns of every sort, with stringed instruments somewhat in the majority. Remembering Annie’s objection to the loudness of the music, I admitted that while that was true, there was a certain grandeur in that greatness of sound. I liked the way it changed from loud to soft and back to loud again; thus also with the pace of the music, going for a stretch at a dignified, funereal gait, then unexpectedly breaking into the swift movement of some dance, a jig or an allemande.
    Lord Laningham himself had a great preference for these sprightly parts. When they came, he was moved to jump from his chair and begin beating his staff upon the stage floor in time to the music —though not, alas, in strict time. I noted that often the musicians would look up at him in annoyance as he banged and capered about. Yet he, it seemed, was having a grand time oi it; so completely did he give himself to his performance before the orchestra that in the space of two concerti grossi (which may have taken hall an hour to perform) he had quite exhausted himself. Beckoning a server to him, he gave quite detailed instructions to the fellow and then pointed back to the table whence he, Lord Laningham, had come. In a moment the server had returned with a newly opened bottle of wine and a glass. The lord did wave away the glass but took firm hold of the bottle and took a deep swig from it. With his thirst temporarily slaked, he sat and rested as the choir began to file in.
    There was a space often minutes, perhaps as many as fifteen, between the first and second parts of the program. (I later learned that there was a third part planned, selections from the Water Miuic, always a great favorite with attendants of the concerts.) During this time musicians left their chairs and milled about. A few left the stage altogether, perhaps answering calls of nature. The choirmaster conferred with members of the choir who had grouped around him. Annie, a bit shorter than most, was near invisible in the crowd. Through it all, Lord Laningham sat, fortifying himself from time to time with a swig from the bottle.
    As we waited, Mr. Alfred Humber regaled us with tales of the patron’s past foolishness: how he did, on one occasion, become so carried away with the pomp of the Royal Fireworks Music that he descended the stairs from the stage and led a parade through the audience; and on another, wishing to show his appreciation to the orchestra for what he