English drama -- 20th century; English fiction -- 20th century; Short stories, English
and popular of those about to leave mount the platform together and
sing the famous "Æsop, Farewell." Greatest of school songs! The words
are not much, but the tune, which goes swooning along in three-four
time, is perhaps the masterpiece of the late organist, Dr. Pilch.
Dick was leaving, but he was not a sufficiently heroic figure to have
been asked to sing, "Æsop, Farewell." He was simply a member of the
audience, and one, moreover, who had come to the concert in a critical
and mocking spirit. For, as he had an ear for music, it was impossible
for him to take the concert very seriously. The choir had clamorously
re-crucified the Messiah; the soloists had all done their worst; and
now it was time for "Æsop, Farewell." The heroes climbed on to the
stage. They were three demi-gods, but Francis Quarles was the most
splendid of the group as he stood there with head thrown back, eyes
almost closed, calm and apparently unconscious of the crowd that
seethed, actually and metaphorically, beneath him. He was wearing an
enormous pink orchid in the buttonhole of his evening coat; his
shirt-front twinkled with diamond studs; the buttons of his waistcoat
were of fine gold. At the sight of him, Dick felt his heart beating
violently; he was not, he painfully realized, master of himself.
The music struck up--Dum, dum, dumdidi, dumdidi; dum, dum, dum, and so
on. So like the _Merry Widow._ In two days' time he would have left
Æsop for ever. The prospect had never affected him very intensely. He
had enjoyed himself at school, but he had never, like so many
Æsopians, fallen in love with the place. It remained for him an
institution; for others it was almost an adored person. But to-night
his spirit, rocked on a treacly ocean of dominant sevenths, succumbed
utterly to the sweet sorrow of parting. And there on the platform
stood Francis. Oh, how radiantly beautiful! And when he began, in his
rich tenor, the first verse of the Valedictory:
"Farewell, Mother Æsop,
Our childhood's home!
Our spirit is with thee,
Though far we roam . . ."
he found himself hysterically sobbing.
II
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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