By Bartram Spinks
A spectacular scene unfolded earlier this week at the Inverness Conservatory of Harmonic and Martial Arts when a stray lute string, having reached what one witness described as “a tension comparable to the mainstay of a frigate,” snapped mid-rehearsal and struck a gas lantern, igniting a brief but dramatic fire that singed curtains, instruments, and dignity alike.
The incident occurred just after the fourth bell on Emberday during a routine rehearsal of the Royal Amateur Symphonic Defence Ensemble, a group known for blending classical performance with martial precision, particularly in the areas of marching, drumline formations, and ceremonial fanfare. The ensemble, comprised of both conservatory students and civic volunteers, was preparing for the upcoming Festival of Wind and Flame, a seasonal celebration honouring both the muses of music and the responsible use of firewood.
Trouble began, as it so often does in the realm of plucked strings, with a misplaced tuning fork and an overzealous first-chair lutenist named Penrith Bamble. Mr. Bamble, a wiry man known for his fervent commitment to perfect pitch and his unfortunate allergy to applause, was attempting to achieve a high E “suitable for resonating across the entire Crescent Commons,” as he later explained. The string, reportedly wound beyond safe parameters, gave a brief screech of protest before snapping free with enough velocity to sever a conductor’s baton in two and ricochet into an overhead lantern.
The lantern, an antique gas-fed unit hanging precariously from a brass fixture, ignited immediately upon impact. Within moments, a burst of flame leapt upward and caught the heavy velvet drapes that lined the back of the rehearsal room—a set gifted to the Conservatory by the Duchess of Merriweather following her retirement from the opera.
What followed, according to those present, was a moment of pure bedlam.
The first violinist let out a cry and dropped her bow; the bassoonist, thinking it a drill, began to march in formation. Three timpani players attempted to douse the flames using their drums, which they rolled hastily across the room in a frantic and misguided effort at containment. Meanwhile, the ensemble’s director, Maestro Ivor Helm, took control by climbing atop a harpsichord and shouting “Water! Blankets! Or, failing that, your coats, lads!”
Fortunately, the fire brigade arrived within minutes, thanks to the swift action of an observant oboist named Miriam Tett, who had the presence of mind to break rehearsal protocol and dash outside to activate the fire alarm bell. When firefighters entered the scene, they found musicians attempting to smother the flames with music stands and score sheets. One clarinettist had thrown her cloak over a smouldering chair and was attempting to stomp it out to the rhythm of the Rondino in D minor.
Damage was contained to one corner of the main rehearsal hall, though it included:
- Three scorched velvet drapes
- A cracked timpani
- Two blackened music stands
- One set of scorched sheet music (believed to be the only known arrangement of “The Ballad of the Subdued Gong”)
- Singeing of Maestro Helm’s eyebrows and moustache, both of which were highly prized and insured
No lives were lost, and injuries were minor—mostly bruised egos and one lutenist with a singed cuff and slightly melted tuning fork.
The Conservatory, ever conscious of public relations, issued a formal statement the next morning:
“While we deeply regret the disruption to our rehearsals, we remain proud of the swift and noble response of our musicians, faculty, and the Inverness Fire Brigade. Music is the flame of the soul, and on this occasion, it quite literally caught fire.”
Reactions across the musical and civic communities have been varied. Lady Winifred Dross, a longtime patron of the arts, called the incident “a thrilling reminder of the perils of live performance.” Others expressed concern about safety conditions at the Conservatory, particularly the continued use of gas lighting in a building primarily composed of polished wood, velvet, and tightly wound musical strings.
Local councilmember Thaddeus Meeks has now proposed a motion to require flame-resistant materials in all public rehearsal spaces. “We cannot allow our city’s musical institutions to go up like dry kindling simply because a lute got uppity,” he said during a brief speech on the matter.
Maestro Helm, despite losing most of his facial hair, appeared unshaken during a press conference. “Music has always been a dangerous art,” he said. “It stirs the soul, awakens the spirit, and—occasionally—lights the curtains on fire. We march on.”
In keeping with that indomitable spirit, the Conservatory has announced a special fundraising performance entitled “The Fire Sonata: A Benefit for Singed Things.” Scheduled for next Emberday, the concert will feature the now-infamous ensemble performing selections from “Ashes and Echoes”, “Flame & Fanfare”, and a newly commissioned piece titled “Scorched Fugue in C# Minor.”
Tickets have already sold briskly, aided by the addition of a souvenir program featuring images from the incident, a commemorative patch embroidered with the phrase “Too Hot to Handel,” and an optional backstage tour of the still-smoky rehearsal room.
In addition, the Conservatory has begun selling limited-edition fireproof music folders and reinforced tuning forks, which they assure are “guaranteed not to initiate combustion under any standard musical conditions.”
As for Mr. Bamble, the lutenist whose string sparked the blaze, he has been reassigned—for now—to the glockenspiel. He has taken the demotion with grace. “Perhaps the universe is telling me to strike, not pluck,” he said, in a brief interview outside the Conservatory, where he was seen polishing a mallet with quiet resolve. “At least glockenspiels don’t catch fire.”
Nevertheless, his former lute, now half-charred and mounted on a plaque, has become an overnight attraction. Visitors queue in the Conservatory’s atrium to see the “Instrument of Ignition,” which hangs above a small bronze plaque bearing Maestro Helm’s words:
“Let this lute remind us that art is never safe, but it is always worth the risk.”