Too Many Notes, Mr Mozart

by Bernard Bastable

  ‘I hev a great deal to prepare for the Princess’s history lesson today. I vill deny myself the pleasure of listening to the rest of the music lesson.’

  ‘Heaven!’ said the Princess, as soon as the door closed. ‘Now we can talk about those wonderful days at Windsor, which I shall remember for the rest of my life. Are not the King and Queen the most delightful old people?’

  I smiled.

  ‘They are indeed like a breath of fresh air. But the Queen is hardly an old person – she is younger than your Mama.’

  ‘Well, is not Mama an old person?’ A look of steel came into her expression, something I had noticed occasionally before. ‘Unfortunately age is no guarantee of good conduct.’

  ‘My dear—’

  ‘But let’s not talk about that yet. You must tell me, dear Mr Mozart, what was going on.‘

  ‘Going on, my dear?’

  ‘Yes, going on. Something was: after all your queries and commands of me you can hardly deny that. Something between you and the King and that awful, slimy Lord Howe. Oh, I shan’t have to have anything to do with him when I become Queen, shall I? And what were you having that conference with Mrs Hattersley about? It was so frustrating not to be able to hear a single word! Now, tell me what it was. Did it have anything to do with Sir John Conroy?’

  ‘Er … not directly. Though there was some discussion about Sir John. In confidence I can say that the King, to use his kind of language, doesn’t like the cut of his jib.’

  She frowned.

  ‘Is that naval? What does it mean?’

  ‘I have no idea, my dear. But in ordinary language it means that he is the sort of person that most people feel is not to be trusted.’

  ‘Very true. How wise of the dear old King! And how unlike some other people. But if it wasn’t about Sir John, who was it about?’

  ‘My dear, I am sworn to secrecy, and couldn’t possibly tell you. Suffice it to say that there was some … some little intrigue concerning yourself which we have nipped in the bud.’

  She puffed up her chubby cheeks in outrage.

  ‘I should think so! I will not have people intriguing about me without my knowledge.’ She played on for a bit and then said, shooting a sidelong glance at me out of her little piggy eyes, ‘George FitzClarence is the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.’

  My face was a mask.

  ‘He is very good-looking.’

  ‘But is he as good as he is handsome?’

  ‘He gets his looks from his mother, who was a most handsome and charming lady. I would also say, in her way, good. Let us hope that he has inherited that too.’

  ‘Well, he certainly doesn’t get his looks from his father, does he?’ she said, giggling. ‘But I’m sure the King is in his way good too, so he is lucky to have such a father and mother. But I’m sure speaking of the FitzClarences’mother would not be approved of. I think you only mentioned her to change the subject, Mr Mozart.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware of changing the subject. I knew Mrs Jordan much better than I know George FitzClarence.’

  ‘And you are not on any account going to tell me what was going on at Windsor?’

  ‘I can’t, my dear. Loyalty to the King prevents me. When you are Queen you will want to be able to call on such loyalty.’

  She played on, thoughtfully.

  ‘Hmmm. I suppose so. I shall be jolly nasty to anyone who doesn’t show it! … Oh, I haven’t read your note.’ She executed some slapdash left-hand scales as she retrieved the note from the bosom of her dress and read it, smiling and then serious. ‘I’m glad the dear King was pleased. “Unused knowledge is future power.” How very true, Mr Mozart. I shall think about that often. But Mr Mozart – it may be that I shall have to use it soon.‘

  ‘No, no, my dear, that would be most unwise. It will then be quite useless.’

  ‘But I may have to. There is something up, Mr Mozart – something about you. I’m awfully afraid they are going to rob me of the great pleasure of having lessons from you.’

  This was a blow.

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think it is because they know you are a friend, and they don’t like that. I’m not to have friends. But nobody could replace you, Mr Mozart – not even the lovely Mr Mendelssohn.’ She looked at me with a sparkle in her eyes, teasing me. ‘It’s true – he could not be so jolly and funny and wise – to be wise you have to be old. And I’m sure you would be inconsolable too.’

  ‘I should be very sad.’

  ‘It would leave a gap in your life which it would be impossible to fill,’ she insisted, only half in joke. ‘You would have nothing left to live for.’

  I smiled at her.

  ‘My dear, I am a composer. I have music to live for. Recently I have been much more active than I have been for years. Music is flowing out of me. Only the other day an odd-looking man came to my apartment and commissioned me to write a requiem. I am setting about the commission with a great deal of pleasure.’

  She shivered.

  ‘A requiem! I can’t see how you can be so pleased at writing that kind of music. You’re not going to go all gloomy on me, are you, Mr Mozart?’

  ‘No, my dear. The music I write has no effect on my everyday face. I’m just telling you that I have other things in my life beside my lessons with you.’

  ‘I suppose it’s just as well,’ she admitted, launching into the early sonata of mine that she had been practising. ‘Because you can’t get much musical pleasure from them, I suppose.’

  ‘I get a great deal of human pleasure from them,’ I said truth-fully. ‘And I shall do my best to make sure I go on doing so.’

  ‘Oh, please do, Mr Mozart.’

  ‘Do nothing yourself. Leave it all to me.’

  ‘I would love to see Sir John worsted.’

  ‘I shall do my best, my dear.’

  At that moment Ned Dorkle put his head round the door, his wig comically askew as usual.

  ‘Time for the Princess’s’istory lesson.’ He added, as the Princess, smiling happily, scurried off, ‘And it’s you for Sir John, Mr Mozart.’

  He said it with an ominous tone. As we walked sedately down the corridor, he added, ‘Something’s up. Lehzen was closeted wiv ’is nibs for ten minutes after she came out from the music lesson. Watch for yourself, Mr Mozart.’

  ‘I shall, my friend,’ I said serenely.

  Sir John was standing behind his desk when I was ushered into his little counting-house of an office – sleek, plump, pleased with himself, unwise. I had begun to dislike him. I felt like a soldier girding up his loins for battle (not that I really understand how one does gird up one’s loins).

  ‘Ah, Mr Mozart. The lesson has gone well?’

  The polite preliminaries. I would play the game along with him.

  ‘Very well, Sir John. The Princess is making great strides. The King was of course over-kind in asking her to play in public, but she is certainly improving.’

  ‘Good, good … And I’m sure she will continue to improve with another teacher.’

  I feigned surprise.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Sir John?’

  He looked down at me, a cat-like smile on his face.

  ‘I think you heard me, Mr Mozart. We have decided that this will be your last lesson with the Princess.’

  ‘And may I ask why that decision has been taken?’

  He waited for a moment, to relish his words.

  ‘Too many notes, Mr Mozart. Too many whispered conversations, too much giggling and sharing jokes. I’m afraid the Duchess and I are adamant that nobody, not even someone as old as yourself, could possibly be on such terms with the heiress to the throne.’

  The Princess was right, then. They were trying to keep her from all friendships, from anyone who would love her. One day she would love, and it would not be her mother, not Sir John, not Lehzen. It would be a great love – the greater because of the arid desert of the emotions which they had tried to
create around her.

  ‘You are making a great mistake, you know,’ I said.

  He swelled like a turkey-cock and, oozing pomposity, took out his watch and looked at it ostentatiously.

  ‘I hardly think, whatever favour you may currently enjoy at court, that it is your business to lecture me – or the Duchess, through me – on the upbringing of the Heiress Presumptive.’

  I ignored him.

  ‘A child has strong affections. If they can find no other outlet they may turn into equally strong aversions. This is true of the Princess – especially true. And it could have terrible consequences for you and her mother when she comes to the throne. You would lose every ounce of influence you otherwise might have had.’

  ‘My time is valuable, Mr Mozart. Please take your fee. This terminates the Princess’s connection with you.’

  ‘I think not,’ I said, not stirring or taking the proffered money.

  ‘Most assuredly it does.’

  Reluctantly I played my last card. Better I played it than the Princess used it against her mother.

  ‘Unfortunately for you, Sir John, the Princess strayed into the woods during the picnic in Windsor Great Park.’ A shadow crossed his eyes. ‘She saw there something that shocked her very much. I had difficulty dissuading her from going to the King about it. Now you and I, Sir John, are men of the world.’ (I blasphemed against my genius. I am a man of the universe!) ‘We know that what she saw was – how shall I put it? – a display of harmless affection. But the Princess has been insulated from the world and its ways, and her judgements are extreme and immature. It will be very bad from every point of view if she brings this matter out into the open with her mother.’

  ‘She wouldn’t dare,’ he blustered.

  ‘You little know her. She certainly would, and already wants to. If she does the servants will get to know, and the information will be hawked to the more scandalous newspapers here, to the illustrated magazines on the Continent. Matters would be still worse if she went to the King.’

  ‘She would not be allowed to go to the King.’

  ‘She would not have to go in person. She could use an emissary. Someone the King trusted.’ I looked at him long and hard. ‘That emissary would be willing to go if he thought it in the Princess’s best interests.’

  His soldier’s body was rigid with fury.

  ‘It is intolerable to be subjected to blackmail!’

  ‘I’m sure it is. The sensible course is to give no grounds for blackmail in the first place.’

  There was a long pause. Finally he said, ‘Very well. The lessons continue.’

  There were a lot of pieces of advice I could have given him, particularly about the conduct of the household’s financial affairs. But what right had I, of all people, to give advice on money matters? I thought, in any case, he was unlikely to be in receptive mood.

  ‘Thank you, Sir John. I’m sure that your decision will be as satisfactory to the Princess as it is to me.’

  As I bowed I caught sight of his face. He was fuming. I thought it wisest to leave the room at once. I did so with a spring in my step. I had attained my aim. The lessons would continue for as long as I could hold the threat over him. My high-spirits were augmented as I walked down the corridor at hearing the Princess’s charming voice. The door to the room where she was having her history lesson was open, due to the warmth of the day. Lehzen, her back to me, was pointing out something on a chart – no, it was a family tree. As she prepared to study it, the Princess saw me lingering in the corridor.

  ‘Dair is His present Majesty,’ Lehzen said, pointing with a pencil, ‘and dair is Your Royal Highness.’

  The Princess appeared to study it for some time, then looked up. In her clear, bell-like voice, clearly enunciating for posterity she said, ‘I will be good.’

  And as Lehzen bent over her notebook to record the words, the Princess looked at me over her governess’s shoulder and winked.

  Copyright

  First published in 1998 by Little, Brown and Co.

  This edition published 2012 by Bello an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR Basingstoke and Oxford Associated companies throughout the world

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  ISBN 978-1-4472-3943-7 EPUB

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  Copyright © Robert Barnard, 1998

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