THE OLD MAN SEEMED TO BE LIVING IN HIS STORY, living the moment, and for some while was silent with his thoughts. Jonah was impatient for him to continue. He wanted to know where young Nathaniel was heading, and what part the button would play.
At last the old man cleared his throat and went on.
“On the road out into the countryside,” he began, “with Boney spitting and cursing all the way, Horace seemed to understand that we were coming to a parting of the ways, for he was in no hurry to arrive despite Boney’s cruel whip, despite all his foul-mouthed oaths and threats. Horace took his time, plodding the rough roads and muddy lanes, and finally up a long drive through parkland where cows were grazing in large numbers, to the huge and stately mansion where I was to be working, tossing his head in his reluctance, snorting his protest. I had only a few moments to say goodbye to him, singing in his ear a last snatch of a song, resting my cheek on his warm neck for the last time, before I was led away to my little box of a room over the stable yard, where I sat on my bed and cried, but silently so no one should hear. I was in deep despair. Horace, my last friend, was gone, and I was alone again in a strange place. I lay down, curled up on the bed, and thought of Mr Pa and Mrs Ma, of swimming in the dykes, of tickling trout, of Friend.
“It was then that I heard the sound of faraway music. Someone somewhere was playing the harpsichord, and playing it quite beautifully, a merry dancing tune that became a sad lilting melody, then suddenly a triumphant march. Such music I had never in my life heard before. The tunes mingled, played with one another merrily, spontaneously, as children do.
“I sat up, brushed my tears away, left my little room, and ran down the stairs, out of the stable yard and through the walled vegetable garden, towards the sound of the music. I found myself running along the path around to the front of the house. It was such sweet music, the notes floating out into the garden as I passed by. I found a door wide open, so I went in. I could not help myself. I knew well enough I should not intrude, that an apprentice from the stables should never set foot in the big house, but the music drew me on.
“I had never been in such a grand room; it was a place of fine carpets and tapestries, of gold-framed pictures and mirrors, of glittering chandeliers; and there at the other end of the room was a magnificent harpsichord. In front of it, on a stool piled high with scores and with a cushion atop, sat a small boy, feet dangling, so intent on his playing that he never once looked up, never noticed my approach, until I was a few paces away. When he saw me, he stopped playing at once, sprang down from his seat and ran over to me. He took me by the hand.
“‘Komm,’ he said, tugging at me impatiently. I had no choice but to go with him. He led me down the great room, out into the garden. We leapt the ditch at the bottom of the lawn and then ran off into the field, which was full of cows, the little boy pulling at my hand all the way. The cows were worried; he was giggling all the while, and when he saw the calves skipping off, he began skipping as they did, and when one of the cows farted as she ran off, he broke into cackles of raucous laughter.
“Ahead of us I saw a girl standing on the riverbank, rather older than the little boy, nearer fourteen or fifteen perhaps, my age. Still dragging me along, he ran up to her. ‘Nannerl, Nannerl,’ he cried. ‘Ich habe einen Freund! Ein lieber Freund!’ The two of them jabbered away together excitedly. I could scarce understand a word they were saying, but it was clear they were talking about me, for the little boy was tugging still at my hand, then my coat, then my sleeve, jumping up and down with joy as if I were a great doll he had just been given. The girl was trying to calm him, but I could see from the way she spoke to him that she knew it was useless even to try.
“Then from behind me came a man’s voice, shouting at me. ‘Boy! You there!’ Two gentlemen were hurrying towards me, the older one waving his stick, and walking, I could see, with some difficulty. ‘What do you think you are doing? Who are you?’ The man with the stick was more than indignant, he was angry. Nervously I told him who I was, that I had come from Mr Hogarth’s house to be an apprentice in the stables of Sir John Sullivan. To my great relief he stopped waving his stick at me at once, and his entire demeanour changed. He was full of smiles, quite happy to see me.
“‘So you must be Master Hogarth,’ he said, shaking my hand, which took me quite by surprise. ‘This is my poor friend William Hogarth’s foundling boy,’ he said, by way of explanation to his companion. ‘He spoke of you often, young man. He thought of you very highly, which is why, when I had need of an apprentice in the stables, I asked especially for you. We have been expecting you. No one told me you had arrived.’
“By now the little boy had left my side and run up to the other gentleman, still wildly excited, still calling out as he pointed back at me. ‘Er ist mein Freund, Vater. Mein lieber Freund, Vater!’ Between them all now, the two gentlemen, the girl and the little boy, there ensued an animated conversation in another language. All of them were looking at me as they spoke. I stood there quite bewildered, wondering if it was a madhouse I had come to.
“The old gentleman with the stick must have noted my confusion, and took pity on me. ‘We now know well enough who you are, Master Hogarth, and so it is only fair you should know who we are. I am Sir John Sullivan, your new master, and master of Bourne Park House, where you now find yourself. And since it seems that this rather overexcited little boy has already taken a great liking to you, I should perhaps present him to you next.’ The little boy was still bounding about like a rabbit, rushing up to me and bowing low again and again as he was introduced.
“‘This is Wolfgang, Wolferl we call him. He is visiting us from Austria, from Salzburg, with his father, my good friend here, Herr Mozart; and this is his sister, Maria, whom we all call Nannerl. Frau Mozart, his mother, is at present in the house. The family are staying with us here at Bourne Park for a few weeks’ rest before travelling on to London, where the two children will be giving concerts.’
“‘Concerts?’ I asked.
“‘Yes, they are much in demand, I assure you,’ said my new master.
“‘In demand?’ I asked.
“‘You must not echo me, young man.’ He was speaking rather more sternly now. ‘This is Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. He is eight years old, and already famous in the world, a great musician, as indeed is his sister, Maria – Nannerl – also. They have performed all over Europe. In London they long to hear them play.’
“Wolferl was still bowing to me, still giggling, his father trying to calm and restrain him. ‘Ich bin Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, englischer Junge.’ He laughed, and grabbed my hand again. ‘Wie heißt du, mein Freund? Name? Dein Name?’ I did not understand, of course.
“‘He wants to know your name,’ my new master explained.
“‘Nathaniel Hogarth,’ I said. ‘I am called Nat.’
“The little boy looked up into my face, his eyes bright with affection, clinging to both my hands now. ‘Nat. Nat. Mein lieber Freund,’ he said, calmer now.
“‘He says you are his friend,’ explained my master, who I now noticed was standing rather bent, was waxy of complexion and did not look at all healthy. He coughed a great deal. ‘You and Wolferl are well met,’ he went on. ‘Nannerl has just made a suggestion, which sounds to me most sensible. Wolferl, it seems, is in much need of a friend to be with him, to play with him, to guard him. He and his sister must practise every day for the concert tour. But he has been begging to have a friend to play with, a companion, shall we say. So, young man, for these few weeks the Mozart family are here, alongside your duties in the stables, you will be his playmate and guardian. He has the sweetest nature, but I should warn you that he can be a wild child, and oftentimes rather tempestuous, with little regard for his own safety, which is a great concern for his mother and father and sister. He must have someone responsible at his side at all times to keep an eye out for him. Do not let him out of your sight – is that understood?’”