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“Why do you suspect it was inappropriate to perform at this time?”
    Hugh studied his companion for a moment, then asked, “Have you read the Proclamation?”
    “Yes, of course,” answered the stranger. “Why, only last week, our host — well, he, and Mr. Wythe, and Mr. Randolph, we often play for ourselves on Tuesday nights, and talk of things — his honor commented on the Proclamation, in answer to some bold questions of my own. I am not at liberty to divulge everything he said about it, but he spoke…darkly.”
    “Has he had from London any intimation of new taxes to be laid on the colonies?”
    The musician nodded and smiled. “Our host confided in me that some years ago, Mr. Pitt informed him that it may be necessary to create a special levy on the colonies, once the war was concluded, to meet some of the costs of winning it. Our host cordially advised Mr. Pitt that such a measure would be ill advised. The temper of Englishmen here — with which his honor is not only more familiar, but sympathetic to — would not long tolerate it, nor would their purses.”
    Hugh grinned pointedly. “That, taken together with the lyrics of the
Anthem
, could only cause me to realize that the
Anthem
was inappropriate.”
    “I see. Do you doubt the efficacy of the Proclamation?”
    Hugh shook his head. “Not at all. What I doubt is its intent and purpose.”
    The musician narrowed his eyes in thought. “You and I are not quite of the same mind, sir, but near enough that I have enjoyed our talk.”
    Hugh nodded. “And I enjoyed your performance this evening. You must have had formal instruction.”
    “Thank you, sir,” said the musician. “But, other than a brief introduction to the instrument by a tutor some years ago, I have had no formal training in the instrument. It was necessary to teach myself. I do not miss many notes, and am working to bring some spirit to my playing. It is not enough to merely play the notes of a composition. One must imbue them with some character.”
    “That is a sensible philosophy of music with which I entirely agree.”
    “I am fortunate that the Governor asks me to perform with him and his circle. It obliges me to aim for perfection.”
    Hugh was certain that his companion was not much older or younger than he, yet the other’s manner toward him was that of deference to wisdom and experience. He was not sure he was comfortable in that role,but he was amused. They spoke again of music, pacing back and forth together in the Palace yard in the cold air that neither of them seemed to notice. At one point in their conversation, Hugh remarked, “I believe that a man ought to adopt some work of music as his private overture to the opera of his life.”
    The musician laughed and replied, “
That
is a unique and true observation, sir! But you must own that not so many men lead lives that would merit symphonic interpretation. I myself do not expect my own life to earn, on those terms, better than the tune of a country-dance. You see, I am planning a career in law, and my librettos would be limited to what I say in country courts and the General Court here, for my clients. And, if I enter politics, and run for burgess, I would not expect my overture in that respect to be more than a lullaby. However, that is the only contingency I would attach to your notion, sir, which is an intriguing one, worthy of a treatise.”
    Hugh scoffed lightly. As he said it, he felt foolish, but he wanted to say it. “Do not dismiss your future life so lightly, sir. You may accomplish great things. You seem to be a well-read man. You should recall how many great men in the past had humble origins and, at your age, nurtured humble, unexceptional estimates of themselves. I am thinking of men such as Mr. Locke, and many of the composers we have heard this night.”
    The musician said nothing for a while. Then he asked, “Have
you
chosen an overture for yourself, sir?”
    “Not yet,” said Hugh. “I have heard