1790 lines
76 KiB
Plaintext
1790 lines
76 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FICTION-ONLINE
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
An Internet Literary Magazine
|
|||
|
|
Volume 1, Number 1
|
|||
|
|
Spring, 1994
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
EDITOR'S NOTES:
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FICTION-ONLINE is a new quarterly literary magazine publishing
|
|||
|
|
electronically through e-mail and the internet. The magazine will
|
|||
|
|
include short stories, play scripts or excerpts of plays, excerpts
|
|||
|
|
of novels or serialized novels, and poems. Some contributors to
|
|||
|
|
the magazine are members of the Northwest Fiction Group of
|
|||
|
|
Washington, DC, a group affiliated with Washington Independent
|
|||
|
|
Writers. However, the magazine is an independent entity and
|
|||
|
|
publishes material from other sources and solicits works from the
|
|||
|
|
public.
|
|||
|
|
To subscribe or unsubscribe or for more information, please e-
|
|||
|
|
mail a brief request to "ngwazi@clark.net" (no quotes). To submit
|
|||
|
|
manuscripts for consideration, please e-mail to the same address.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
COPYRIGHT NOTICE: The copyright for each piece of material
|
|||
|
|
published is retained by its author. Each subscriber is licensed
|
|||
|
|
to possess one electronic copy and to make one hard copy for
|
|||
|
|
personal reading use only. All other rights, including rights to
|
|||
|
|
copy or publish in whole or in part in any form or medium, to give
|
|||
|
|
readings or to stage performances or filmings or video recording,
|
|||
|
|
or for any other use not explicitly licensed, will be in violation
|
|||
|
|
of the authors' copyrights.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
William Ramsay, Editor
|
|||
|
|
ngwazi@clark.net
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CONTENTS
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Editor's Note
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Contributors
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"Three Portraits": verses
|
|||
|
|
Joseph Forsthoffer
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"Ginger Doll," a short-short story
|
|||
|
|
George Howell
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"Detente," a short story
|
|||
|
|
Judith Greenwood
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"Boy," an excerpt (chapter 1) from the novel "In Search of
|
|||
|
|
Mozart"
|
|||
|
|
William Ramsay
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"A New Prometheus," a ten-minute play
|
|||
|
|
Otho Eskin
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CONTRIBUTORS
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
OTHO ESKIN, former diplomat and consultant on international
|
|||
|
|
affairs, has had numerous plays read and produced in Washington,
|
|||
|
|
including "Murder is a Fine Art," "Duet," and "Season in Hell."
|
|||
|
|
"The New Prometheus" was produced at the Source Theater Festival in
|
|||
|
|
1993.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
JOSEPH FORSTHOFFER is a writer living in Salisbury, Maryland.
|
|||
|
|
"Small Town Lives" consists of three poems taken from his verse
|
|||
|
|
drama, "The Fosters Chronicle."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
JUDITH GREENWOOD, international interior and garden designer and
|
|||
|
|
West Virginia farmer, also writes fiction. She was the founder of
|
|||
|
|
the Northwest Fiction Group of Washington, DC.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GEORGE HOWELL is a fiction writer living in Takoma Park, Maryland.
|
|||
|
|
He has written art reviews for "Eyewash" and the "Washington
|
|||
|
|
Review."
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
WILLIAM RAMSAY is a physicist and consultant on Third World energy
|
|||
|
|
problems. He recently published a short story, "Heritage," in
|
|||
|
|
"Nebo." He is on the Board of Directors of the Writer's Center,
|
|||
|
|
Bethesda, Maryland.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THREE PORTRAITS
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
by Joseph Forsthoffer
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Jilted Bridegroom
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Last night, carrying groceries
|
|||
|
|
from the car, I was struck
|
|||
|
|
by the silence. Yesterday's frost
|
|||
|
|
had killed the last crickets.
|
|||
|
|
The sense of loss still haunts me, a sudden
|
|||
|
|
and recurring revelation of absence.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I stayed home this morning
|
|||
|
|
listening to the furnace
|
|||
|
|
cycle off and on, expecting
|
|||
|
|
to see you cross the room,
|
|||
|
|
the wake from your body
|
|||
|
|
disturbing the dust floating
|
|||
|
|
in a slanted column of sunlight.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Sunday School Teacher
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
It was all so simple once:
|
|||
|
|
God was the yellow crayon
|
|||
|
|
beams of sunlight drawn
|
|||
|
|
on blue-lined notebook paper.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The children glue together
|
|||
|
|
construction paper cut-outs
|
|||
|
|
of Joseph and Mary and never
|
|||
|
|
question the glances that pass
|
|||
|
|
between a man and a woman.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
No one noticed when I stayed late
|
|||
|
|
to type his sermons. I was surprised
|
|||
|
|
to find his hands so cold, the taste
|
|||
|
|
of bourbon on his lips so sweet.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The Mathematician
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
As a child, I stood in darkened fields on moonless nights,
|
|||
|
|
under the cold, black dome of a winter sky, to learn
|
|||
|
|
the patterns of stars. I traced their movements and took comfort
|
|||
|
|
in the mathematical precision of the heavens. The universe,
|
|||
|
|
I decided, was a perpetual motion machine whose blueprint
|
|||
|
|
could be found in numbers and geometry.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
But now, at night, I hear the machinery creak and groan:
|
|||
|
|
a lone cricket, somehow surviving into November,
|
|||
|
|
rubs his legs and gains no response in the chill night.
|
|||
|
|
And I sit until 3 a.m. ordering coffee and donuts
|
|||
|
|
from a woman with a slender waist and red hair
|
|||
|
|
who will never ask my name.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
GINGER DOLL
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
by George Howell
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Along dusty sidewalks uprooted by big trees, in front of tiny
|
|||
|
|
storefronts garlanded with blossoms, crowds wander, crowds of
|
|||
|
|
lovers, business men, high school girls and priests. And down
|
|||
|
|
little alleyways, dark even in the middle of the day, intrigue
|
|||
|
|
calls, adventure calls.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I have returned to the scene of the crime. Sober now, I
|
|||
|
|
wander the narrow streets of the Vieux Carre, wander the streets of
|
|||
|
|
New Orleans. But the noise makes me nostalgic, reminds me of
|
|||
|
|
drunken walks, together, in the noisy crowd. She died. I sobered
|
|||
|
|
up, she died. Simple as that.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Little plazas lead to shops, bookstores, bars. The stale odor
|
|||
|
|
of spilled beer mixes with sickly sweet blossoms crushed on broken
|
|||
|
|
sidewalks, a swirl of aromas. I walk through bookstores, browse
|
|||
|
|
through thick volumes of picture books -- the river, mansions --
|
|||
|
|
browse portfolios of decaying menus. I am nostalgic. I sobered
|
|||
|
|
up, she died.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I follow a walkway past pink wisteria, through a dark
|
|||
|
|
courtyard, to the doll shop. With her hair pulled back in a tangle
|
|||
|
|
of dark braids, her skin brown as the bark of blossoming trees
|
|||
|
|
guarding her shop, the sales girl smiles as she talks.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
"These are traditional dolls," she explains. "And this is
|
|||
|
|
Ginger Doll." She holds up a small brown cloth figure -- no face,
|
|||
|
|
no eyes, no mouth, four thin stumps for arms and legs, a blue and
|
|||
|
|
white checkered apron hanging from the limp brown doll. "She's the
|
|||
|
|
kind of doll a child would need to forget her harsh and cruel
|
|||
|
|
surroundings." The sales girl smiles as she tells her tale. How
|
|||
|
|
can I refuse? I buy Ginger Doll, carry her under my arm, back to
|
|||
|
|
my hotel.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Pages drift in a gentle breeze, drift from the bed to the
|
|||
|
|
unpolished floor. Ginger Doll can't see the pages drift, can't
|
|||
|
|
hear the pages rustle on the floor. No eyes, no ears, no mouth.
|
|||
|
|
I can't read this letter from a dead girl to a doll with no ears.
|
|||
|
|
I can't see my memories in a doll with no eyes. A doll that takes
|
|||
|
|
in nothing, gives nothing in return.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I could take her into bars, prop her up against half-drunk
|
|||
|
|
bottles. I'd drink cokes and tell her about adventures, tell her
|
|||
|
|
about love and intrigue down narrow alleyways, in shady courtyards.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I could stuff her in my suitcase, dump her at the airport.
|
|||
|
|
Some small child, lonely and frightened in the corridors of glass
|
|||
|
|
and busy feet, could find her, find some happiness in Ginger Doll.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I could burn her. Smoke drifts up old grey walls, curls above
|
|||
|
|
the window. Ginger Doll, in flames, in the waste basket. An empty
|
|||
|
|
face devoured by flames. A moment of peace and forgetting.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I will leave soon, leave this old hotel, but what can I do
|
|||
|
|
with Ginger Doll? Outside these dusty windows, crowds shuffle
|
|||
|
|
along old broken sidewalks, loud, robust, alive. But inside, the
|
|||
|
|
room is silent and, for once, I am at peace. I'll leave her here
|
|||
|
|
in this silent room, leave Ginger Doll here.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
I make a shrine for Ginger Doll. Prop up the doll on the
|
|||
|
|
wooden dresser, half open the dusty louvered blinds. Vanilla bars
|
|||
|
|
of street light fall across a bowl of candy on a doily. Something
|
|||
|
|
to please a child, make a child's toy rejoice. But how can Ginger
|
|||
|
|
Doll rejoice -- no eyes, no ears, no mouth, a sad bag of cotton
|
|||
|
|
with a blue and white apron?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
No more adventures call, no more restless walks through dusty
|
|||
|
|
courtyards and sad plazas. I will give this doll a face. A black
|
|||
|
|
stitch for a mouth, two buttons from my shirt for eyes. Fold her
|
|||
|
|
arms around a letter, put my memories in the arms of a doll. Take
|
|||
|
|
a piece of candy and watch the sun rise. I can leave soon. I
|
|||
|
|
sobered up, she died.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
DETENTE
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
by Judith Greenwood
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
A dingy gray sky fills the bedroom window and the
|
|||
|
|
local weatherman uses his minute of breakaway time during
|
|||
|
|
the Today show to say nothing will happen today. No sun.
|
|||
|
|
No rain. No wind. No thunderstorm. Nothing to vary the
|
|||
|
|
mild, gray nothingness of seventy-five degrees and low
|
|||
|
|
clouds.
|
|||
|
|
And everything else will stay the same. Nothing will
|
|||
|
|
come over the phone or in the mail or down the street to
|
|||
|
|
alter a gray life. Hope seems over. In less than two
|
|||
|
|
weeks a few people will gather in a courtroom to
|
|||
|
|
formalize the dissolution of hope. A few weeks after
|
|||
|
|
that she will receive a certified letter announcing that
|
|||
|
|
man has put asunder...
|
|||
|
|
How bright the sun had been the day the promises were
|
|||
|
|
made. She had photographs to prove it. Over the months
|
|||
|
|
she looked at them and cried for the girl in embroidered
|
|||
|
|
white organdy and the man in the gray cutaway and all the
|
|||
|
|
beautiful youngsters in morning coats and pastel dresses
|
|||
|
|
who'd believed in forever then.
|
|||
|
|
He'd called at seven. She'd come home early with
|
|||
|
|
live lobsters and Montrachet, and the call surprised her.
|
|||
|
|
"I forgot to tell you I'm going to a seminar directly
|
|||
|
|
from here," he said.
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, David," she protested, "I came home early to
|
|||
|
|
make dinner."
|
|||
|
|
"Go ahead without me. I'll grab something on the
|
|||
|
|
way."
|
|||
|
|
"But it's your birthday!" she cried. "I don't want
|
|||
|
|
to eat your birthday dinner. I'll wait for you. Come as
|
|||
|
|
early as you can."
|
|||
|
|
There was a long and oddly silent pause. The
|
|||
|
|
suspicion that he wasn't at his office flickered through
|
|||
|
|
her mind. His office was never that quiet. He chuckled.
|
|||
|
|
"Leave it to you to remember. I've written the date all
|
|||
|
|
day and didn't think a thing of it. I thought we'd
|
|||
|
|
celebrate this weekend, so I mentally moved the birthday
|
|||
|
|
to then -- like George Washington."
|
|||
|
|
"Well, it's today."
|
|||
|
|
"I'm sorry, Laura, but don't wait for me. You know
|
|||
|
|
how these things are. I need the contacts I make at
|
|||
|
|
these things. Don't wait up; we'll do something this
|
|||
|
|
weekend." After she hung up the phone, she stared at it
|
|||
|
|
as if David were inside. In a sudden leap of intuition
|
|||
|
|
that was unlike her, she knew David was lying. He
|
|||
|
|
hadn't forgot his birthday, and he knew she'd remember,
|
|||
|
|
too. She was so sure of it that for a minute she thought
|
|||
|
|
of getting in her car and finding him, feeling that her
|
|||
|
|
certainty would lead her to him, wherever he was.
|
|||
|
|
She didn't do it, of course. She cooked the
|
|||
|
|
lobsters, carefully picked the meat out and put it away
|
|||
|
|
in the refrigerator. The unusual domesticity calmed her
|
|||
|
|
a little, although she still felt shaky as she searched
|
|||
|
|
for clues from recent life to what or who was so
|
|||
|
|
important to David that he'd lie and convince himself
|
|||
|
|
that she'd buy the lie.
|
|||
|
|
She drank the Montrachet and paced the kitchen,
|
|||
|
|
trying to think of what to do next.
|
|||
|
|
David had a secret. She was aware of it all the
|
|||
|
|
time. There were no more gross slips like the birthday,
|
|||
|
|
but Laura felt it lying between them in bed. She heard
|
|||
|
|
it like an intruding voice from another table when they
|
|||
|
|
met for dinner. She sometimes smelled it on him when he
|
|||
|
|
came home, the sensation as ugly as the clinging odor of
|
|||
|
|
burnt hair. Oh, most of the time he really did go where
|
|||
|
|
he said he did. She might see him at the tennis courts
|
|||
|
|
when she drove by on her way to the hairdresser on
|
|||
|
|
Saturday. And yet he would come in reeking of his
|
|||
|
|
secret. She tried to be more attentive to him; she
|
|||
|
|
brought work home or sent someone else on a trip in her
|
|||
|
|
place. She couldn't think of what else to do, so she
|
|||
|
|
hoped it would just go away. Oddly enough, it was at
|
|||
|
|
their own annual Christmas party that she found out
|
|||
|
|
David's secret. No one told her. No one was caught
|
|||
|
|
hiding in the bedroom piled with coats. There weren't
|
|||
|
|
any intercepted guilty looks. The clue was something
|
|||
|
|
that was missing. David was avoiding someone. A silly,
|
|||
|
|
flirtatious, normal repartee between David and Sharon had
|
|||
|
|
become cool distance. Her face jerked away from them as
|
|||
|
|
if she'd been slapped; she caught Marion's . Hot shame
|
|||
|
|
flooded her. Marion knew! Did everyone know? Everyone
|
|||
|
|
but Laura?
|
|||
|
|
The next morning she dug out the white leather
|
|||
|
|
wedding album. There they were: David -- Laura -- and
|
|||
|
|
Sharon, dressed in bridesmaid pink. She hadn't caught
|
|||
|
|
the bouquet.
|
|||
|
|
Sharon and David? Not possible! There had to be
|
|||
|
|
another explanation. Sharon was her best and oldest
|
|||
|
|
friend!
|
|||
|
|
She blundered along in a daze until February. No one
|
|||
|
|
meant to hurt her; it was the last thing they'd meant to
|
|||
|
|
do. That's what he said. It was just that once when she
|
|||
|
|
was away, they'd run into each other in a bar, and
|
|||
|
|
sometime during the scotch and water their eyes met...
|
|||
|
|
They'd tried, but it was no use. Now they had experience
|
|||
|
|
and memory to which Laura was not a party. "She wants
|
|||
|
|
you to know how sorry she is, Laura. You don't know how
|
|||
|
|
unhappy she is about it. We're both miserable. We
|
|||
|
|
didn't want you to know, because we hoped we'd get over
|
|||
|
|
it." Laura looked at him with swollen eyes and a
|
|||
|
|
tear-streaked face, unable to comprehend how David could
|
|||
|
|
say something so thick-headed and think it made a
|
|||
|
|
difference to her. Did he expect her to be sorry for
|
|||
|
|
Sharon's guilty conscience?
|
|||
|
|
Sharon from French Club in high school, in the next
|
|||
|
|
shower stall in gym. Sharon, the one she told when she
|
|||
|
|
finally "did it". Sharon, who confessed to Laura that
|
|||
|
|
"it" hurt and was a big disappointment. Sharon gave the
|
|||
|
|
bridal shower. Sharon knew how hard it was for Laura to
|
|||
|
|
wait, as they'd agreed to, to start a baby. Sharon was
|
|||
|
|
one of their tennis crowd. Sharon was at their friends'
|
|||
|
|
parties when Laura was traveling. Sharon, Sharon, always
|
|||
|
|
there, always everywhere -- and Laura's friends knew.
|
|||
|
|
Laura lost the privilege of looking into a friend's eyes
|
|||
|
|
and taking loyalty for granted. Betrayed. When David
|
|||
|
|
left her, she didn't know whom to call. If she
|
|||
|
|
confided, would her words later be used against her?
|
|||
|
|
They were choosing sides. Who was choosing Laura? Might
|
|||
|
|
they later change sides and expose her to the others?
|
|||
|
|
Whom could she trust? Where was truth and where was
|
|||
|
|
danger? Utterly alone, she spent weeks picking through
|
|||
|
|
the wreckage. Half the memories from half her life
|
|||
|
|
included David or Sharon. She'd have to take herself
|
|||
|
|
apart to find all the useless shreds of her love for
|
|||
|
|
them.
|
|||
|
|
Laura decided to jettison Sharon and try to save her
|
|||
|
|
marriage. "Help me, David! Help salvage us! This is a
|
|||
|
|
nightmare. We have to try, babe. Please." She pled
|
|||
|
|
history, love, and (in degrading moments she hated to
|
|||
|
|
recall) economics. Nothing moved him.
|
|||
|
|
The salt of swallowed tears turned to a bitter gripe
|
|||
|
|
in her throat. She rushed home from work with fresh
|
|||
|
|
flowers and spent hours polishing silver and cooking food
|
|||
|
|
she couldn't eat. David wouldn't talk. He didn't even
|
|||
|
|
see the new Laura. She sat on the floor one night,
|
|||
|
|
looking through a glass of Cabernet at the fire she'd lit
|
|||
|
|
and she thought about it.
|
|||
|
|
Housekeeping hadn't won him, and it wouldn't win him
|
|||
|
|
back. I don't run my business like this, she thought,
|
|||
|
|
giving the customer what he doesn't want. What does he
|
|||
|
|
want? Why did he love me?
|
|||
|
|
He liked my organization and my drive. He was proud
|
|||
|
|
of me. And sex. Once he'd wanted sex with Laura more
|
|||
|
|
than anything.
|
|||
|
|
David was no adventurer. He didn't just leave; he
|
|||
|
|
made sure there was somewhere to go first. She realized
|
|||
|
|
that she might be braver than he, and she knew she was a
|
|||
|
|
little more successful than David.
|
|||
|
|
She resolved to plan and execute a campaign to get
|
|||
|
|
him back. It was what she was best-suited to do, and
|
|||
|
|
would use all the qualities that set her apart from other
|
|||
|
|
women. A few days later, she sent him by courier a list
|
|||
|
|
of all their marital assets, divided and disposed with
|
|||
|
|
unerring sense and accuracy. She changed the locks on
|
|||
|
|
the doors. He called.
|
|||
|
|
"Why do we have to sell the growth stocks?" David
|
|||
|
|
asked. "And the cars, how did you decide I get the
|
|||
|
|
Honda?"
|
|||
|
|
"If I take the house, I get the mortgage, and I just
|
|||
|
|
don't want the car loan on the Honda," she replied.
|
|||
|
|
"With the stocks it's a valuation problem. They're down.
|
|||
|
|
Would you take them valued at what we paid for them?"
|
|||
|
|
"That's hardly fair, is it?"
|
|||
|
|
"Well, if you take them at their present value and
|
|||
|
|
sell them when they go up, then I've taken the entire
|
|||
|
|
loss. So I figure the only fair way to settle it is to
|
|||
|
|
sell and split the proceeds and the loss. That seems
|
|||
|
|
fair."
|
|||
|
|
"You've got it all laid out, haven't you? Pretty
|
|||
|
|
cold-blooded, isn't it?"
|
|||
|
|
Laura said nothing for a while. "I don't feel the
|
|||
|
|
least bit cold-blooded about it, David. Not about any of
|
|||
|
|
it."
|
|||
|
|
There was silence again, and then, "What's the
|
|||
|
|
matter? Are you there? Laura? Are you okay?"
|
|||
|
|
"I'm okay, David. Listen, this isn't working over
|
|||
|
|
the phone. Write up your own version and I'll consider
|
|||
|
|
it." Weeks went by with no response. She heard that
|
|||
|
|
Sharon was in London. She called David and asked when
|
|||
|
|
she could expect his settlement offer.
|
|||
|
|
He hadn't accomplished a thing. He'd taken it all
|
|||
|
|
apart. He'd looked at the pieces and tried to glue them
|
|||
|
|
back together, but it was the kind of thing David had
|
|||
|
|
never been good at. His intuitive, expressive strengths
|
|||
|
|
didn't transfer to the analysis of their assets and the
|
|||
|
|
decisive slashing apart required. And reading lists of
|
|||
|
|
things they'd bought together and lived with depressed
|
|||
|
|
him. It was exactly what Laura had expected.
|
|||
|
|
She offered to meet with him to work it out. They
|
|||
|
|
planned to meet at the house. She dressed in a severe
|
|||
|
|
suit with a silk teddy underneath, and she made hazelnut
|
|||
|
|
coffee, which David didn't really like. She told herself
|
|||
|
|
that one way or the other, it was over.
|
|||
|
|
He stayed.
|
|||
|
|
The agreeable Laura radiated strength and warmth.
|
|||
|
|
She was the image of decisive flexibility, the
|
|||
|
|
negotiator, listening to his view and then transforming
|
|||
|
|
it into a fair proposal. "We bought the growth stocks to
|
|||
|
|
pay for the children's education," she gently reminded
|
|||
|
|
him, "now there won't be any children."
|
|||
|
|
"Take what you want, David, furniture, books, music,"
|
|||
|
|
she offered, "but I have to have the house." She didn't
|
|||
|
|
give a reason, but she insisted. She was logical, kind,
|
|||
|
|
female. He was fascinated again, and couldn't seem to
|
|||
|
|
remember why leaving had been so important.
|
|||
|
|
But when Sharon came back, their careful, slightly
|
|||
|
|
jerky detente failed.
|
|||
|
|
He didn't walk out. He lay in bed with his back to
|
|||
|
|
her. Sometimes she woke up when the bed shook with his
|
|||
|
|
silent sobs. She pressed her pelvis into the mattress,
|
|||
|
|
looking for heat she couldn't find. Even the quantities
|
|||
|
|
of scotch he drank at night didn't help.
|
|||
|
|
It made her sick. He made her sick with his weakness
|
|||
|
|
and lies and drinking and silence when she tried to talk
|
|||
|
|
about what was happening to them. She told him, "You're
|
|||
|
|
selfish and childish and tiresome! You've got to have
|
|||
|
|
what you want, the way you want it, or make me pay!"
|
|||
|
|
It was during that time that Laura began to talk to a
|
|||
|
|
voice in her head. The voice asked cruel questions that
|
|||
|
|
hurt to answer.
|
|||
|
|
_Who is Laura_? it asked one lonely night. "I am a
|
|||
|
|
moderately successful, modestly attractive woman of
|
|||
|
|
thirty-two," she answered herself, "who will have this
|
|||
|
|
man and this marriage even if I never have another
|
|||
|
|
carefree day, another intimacy or another minute of fun.
|
|||
|
|
I am a scorned woman who uses anger and trickery to tie
|
|||
|
|
his unwilling body to an eight year memory." She let him
|
|||
|
|
go. For one blind week she hated them both so much she
|
|||
|
|
wanted to kill them.
|
|||
|
|
And then for a while, when the lawyers had taken
|
|||
|
|
over, she dreamed that he came back. He appeared in
|
|||
|
|
landscapes of flowering trees and early grass, and they
|
|||
|
|
fell together in sensual embraces. She woke up sweating
|
|||
|
|
and empty. The dreams dwindled away in the petty
|
|||
|
|
meanness of legal moves. When she cleared his closets,
|
|||
|
|
she got boxes from the Safeway. She threw his Brooks
|
|||
|
|
Brothers suits, the Polo weekend wear, the Turnbull and
|
|||
|
|
Asser shirts into the boxes. Cufflinks and tie clasps
|
|||
|
|
fell among the shambled clothes. Shoes and tennis balls
|
|||
|
|
went in at random. Without a conscious thought, she
|
|||
|
|
started to throw some of her own clothes on top. In went
|
|||
|
|
anything pale and gauzy. Silk nightgowns and ruffled
|
|||
|
|
sundresses lay like cake frosting over layers of wool and
|
|||
|
|
gabardine. She ripped bright little cashmere nothings
|
|||
|
|
off padded hangers and flung them across the room where
|
|||
|
|
they caught on the cartons and punctuated his grays and
|
|||
|
|
navies.
|
|||
|
|
She stood, panting a little, in front of her closet
|
|||
|
|
when it was over, and saw nothing there but what might be
|
|||
|
|
armor.
|
|||
|
|
She'd bought wide strapping tape with nylon threads
|
|||
|
|
in it. She punched the garments down, closed the flaps
|
|||
|
|
and sealed them with the indestructible tape. The next
|
|||
|
|
day a mover collected the cartons and David was gone.
|
|||
|
|
She settled down to learn how to live alone and the
|
|||
|
|
gray came over her windows. It would be six months from
|
|||
|
|
separation to severance. She had the time for anything,
|
|||
|
|
if she knew what it ought to be.
|
|||
|
|
_Laura, Laura, who are you now_?
|
|||
|
|
"I," she answered, "am a woman coming to terms with
|
|||
|
|
disillusion. I am free to discover what sex feels like.
|
|||
|
|
I can climb a mountain, go to Africa or make a pile of
|
|||
|
|
money. I'll learn to make small talk, meet strangers and
|
|||
|
|
learn to take the best of what I find and not pine for
|
|||
|
|
what I don't have."
|
|||
|
|
_Laura, what will become of you_?
|
|||
|
|
"I don't know! Don't torture me with unanswerable
|
|||
|
|
questions! Who ever knows just who she is? I'm Laura.
|
|||
|
|
That's enough!"
|
|||
|
|
_It wasn't for David_.
|
|||
|
|
"Maybe it was too much for David -- did you ever
|
|||
|
|
think of that?"
|
|||
|
|
This morning she gets out of bed and goes to the
|
|||
|
|
window. In her bed she could see only the gray sky, but
|
|||
|
|
from here she sees the trees and the houses that hem it.
|
|||
|
|
This is Laura's neighborhood. This is Laura's house.
|
|||
|
|
This is Laura. If there is a house, a neighborhood, a
|
|||
|
|
body; if Bryant Gumbel speaks to her from Radio City, if
|
|||
|
|
she hears, there must be a Laura. There'll be a desk at
|
|||
|
|
nine o'clock in a room with a window that is Laura's
|
|||
|
|
office, a woman who is Laura's secretary: there must be
|
|||
|
|
a Laura.
|
|||
|
|
_What will you do_?
|
|||
|
|
She shivers and turns toward the bathroom where Mr.
|
|||
|
|
Coffee has brewed while she slept. "I don't need you, go
|
|||
|
|
away. I'm going to live!" she says to nobody.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=======================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
BOY
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
by William Ramsay
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
[Note: This is an excerpt, chapter 1 of the novel "In
|
|||
|
|
Search of Mozart"]
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
The lights! It was fantastically, wonderfully
|
|||
|
|
bright. He had never seen so many candles in his life.
|
|||
|
|
He was alone in the luminous glare -- alone at the
|
|||
|
|
keyboard, waiting, eyeing the fat lady with the slit-
|
|||
|
|
mouthed smile who stared at him from the dark painting
|
|||
|
|
beside the window.
|
|||
|
|
"Think about the music, Wolferl, the music comes
|
|||
|
|
from God and the Blessed Virgin, imagine that you're in
|
|||
|
|
church, that you're facing the altar."
|
|||
|
|
"And don't forget to count!" his father had added.
|
|||
|
|
He was always telling him that.
|
|||
|
|
He recalled his father's words in the coach from
|
|||
|
|
Salzburg to Munich: "You will be doing something sacred -
|
|||
|
|
- just like the priest at the altar. He can't worry
|
|||
|
|
about the people in the church. He's turned away from
|
|||
|
|
them, facing the holy place."
|
|||
|
|
Well, that part was the same, thought Wolfgang. He
|
|||
|
|
couldn't see the people behind him -- but that didn't
|
|||
|
|
mean that he didn't worry about them. He looked down at
|
|||
|
|
the keyboard and then up, over the top of the music stand
|
|||
|
|
to the wall beyond and a cluster of golden-edged pictures
|
|||
|
|
of people with shifty eyes and long, dark wigs.
|
|||
|
|
His stomach felt empty and cold. The little finger
|
|||
|
|
on his left hand quivered. This gigantic palace and all
|
|||
|
|
the important people-- counts and dukes, and one fat old
|
|||
|
|
man in a bright yellow suit who Papa had told him was a
|
|||
|
|
real prince. What if he should freeze up now, miss the
|
|||
|
|
notes, and the dukes and the Prince should frown?
|
|||
|
|
A million chandeliers were sparkling in the mirrors
|
|||
|
|
lining the mustard-yellow walls of the immense room.
|
|||
|
|
It was not that he wasn't used to playing before an
|
|||
|
|
audience. Father was always bringing home people who
|
|||
|
|
wanted to hear him play. But other people didn't
|
|||
|
|
criticize him as his family did, so usually it was easier
|
|||
|
|
to play before strangers than it was to play just for his
|
|||
|
|
parents and his sister Nannerl. But tonight! So many
|
|||
|
|
people, so many beautiful things, furniture, paintings --
|
|||
|
|
such gigantic rooms! He glanced around. His father,
|
|||
|
|
sitting chin in hand, was fidgeting. Something bitter
|
|||
|
|
rose in Wolfgang's throat. He was suddenly afraid he was
|
|||
|
|
going to throw up.
|
|||
|
|
He began the counting to lead into the first measure
|
|||
|
|
of the Handel. Eins, zwo, drei, vier, eins, zwo, drei,
|
|||
|
|
vier... "Don't cheat on the counting," and "Count out
|
|||
|
|
loud half the time," and -- oh, he got awfully tired of
|
|||
|
|
hearing about counting!
|
|||
|
|
Beautiful ladies wore jewels covering their white
|
|||
|
|
throats -- the glistening specks of light from the
|
|||
|
|
diamonds and rubies were sharp and clear as raindrops.
|
|||
|
|
He began. The first notes echoed, twinkling,
|
|||
|
|
clinking with the slight, piercing sound of the bright-
|
|||
|
|
toned harpsichord.
|
|||
|
|
"The people sitting behind you," his father had
|
|||
|
|
said, "Even if they're great princes and ladies, are all
|
|||
|
|
there to hear you. But God will be the most important
|
|||
|
|
person, your gift is from Him, your talent is one of His
|
|||
|
|
works. He will be there to see if you're making good use
|
|||
|
|
of that gift. Do your duty to Him."
|
|||
|
|
Suddenly his mind went blank -- what was the next
|
|||
|
|
measure? He shut his mind off and let his fingers go.
|
|||
|
|
His fingers knew the way -- on, on, into the ritornello!
|
|||
|
|
Glimpses through the tall windows. The world was
|
|||
|
|
sparkling outside, the light from the full moon shone on
|
|||
|
|
the icy lawns of the palace gardens.
|
|||
|
|
Eins, zwo, drei, vier, eins, zwo...
|
|||
|
|
It was really frightening to think of God and the
|
|||
|
|
Virgin listening to him play. But when he imagined how
|
|||
|
|
he felt when he was hearing mass, then he thought he
|
|||
|
|
understood his father. Music was like the mass. It was
|
|||
|
|
always easy to concentrate on it because there was always
|
|||
|
|
a new way of hearing it.
|
|||
|
|
"Brhhhmmmhhh!" Someone behind him coughed.
|
|||
|
|
Never mind. It was his duty to perform well.
|
|||
|
|
Concentrate on making each note sound just as beautiful
|
|||
|
|
as he could. His father was right. His father was
|
|||
|
|
always right.
|
|||
|
|
He finished his first piece. The clapping broke
|
|||
|
|
like a deafening torrent behind him. He turned and saw
|
|||
|
|
a mist of brightness and smiles. His father motioned to
|
|||
|
|
him. He wanted to wipe his forehead, but he didn't dare.
|
|||
|
|
He bowed deeply. Blood rushed to his head, he became
|
|||
|
|
slightly giddy. The big fat Prince in the bright yellow
|
|||
|
|
suit with all the ribbons and medals and jewels called
|
|||
|
|
him over: "Wonderful, extraordinary, I've never heard
|
|||
|
|
such playing in my life! And from such a tiny little
|
|||
|
|
maestro. Five years old. Imagine!" Pat, pat on his
|
|||
|
|
head, the impacts muffled by his periwig.
|
|||
|
|
The Handel had gone well. His father hugged him and
|
|||
|
|
gave him a wet kiss on his cheek. A terrible desire
|
|||
|
|
arose, to lay his head down on the harpsichord and close
|
|||
|
|
his eyes. But it was almost time to play again.
|
|||
|
|
Scarlatti this time. He remembered how a few weeks ago
|
|||
|
|
he had given Scarlatti the "tin soldier" treatment -- he
|
|||
|
|
would hit all the right notes and keep the rhythm -- but
|
|||
|
|
still play badly. He called this playing like a tin
|
|||
|
|
soldier, because he would pretend in his mind that his
|
|||
|
|
arms and legs were stiff and hard, and that he couldn't
|
|||
|
|
think at all beneath his imaginary tin helmet. Papa
|
|||
|
|
would get upset and bewildered, and yet he wouldn't be
|
|||
|
|
able to put his finger on what was wrong. It served Papa
|
|||
|
|
right! Him and his constant "Don't forget to count!"
|
|||
|
|
Tonight he felt unable to pretend anything. His
|
|||
|
|
chest seemed to tremble, his face felt hot.
|
|||
|
|
More applause for Scarlatti.
|
|||
|
|
And now his own sonata. The ladies "ooh"-ed and
|
|||
|
|
"aah"-ed at his having composed a sonata. My goodness,
|
|||
|
|
he had written that back last summer. He could do much
|
|||
|
|
better now. Didn't anybody realize that?
|
|||
|
|
Six eighths.
|
|||
|
|
Eins, zwo, drei, vier, fuenf, sechs, eins, zwo,...
|
|||
|
|
He remembered just a few weeks before, Abbe
|
|||
|
|
Bullinger sitting sprawled in the great oak chair in the
|
|||
|
|
Mozart parlor in Salzburg, listening to him play this
|
|||
|
|
sonata while his father read sermons.
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, Wolferl, that's a lovely cadenza," said the
|
|||
|
|
Abbe. "Whose is it? Vivaldi's?"
|
|||
|
|
"No, I made it up."
|
|||
|
|
"It sounds so familiar."
|
|||
|
|
"It's mine."
|
|||
|
|
"You're sure you aren't teasing me, Wolferl?" said
|
|||
|
|
the Abbe. "I know I recognize it."
|
|||
|
|
"It's mine, it's mine! You don't know anything!"
|
|||
|
|
The Abbe opened his mouth wide, then he shut it
|
|||
|
|
again and shifted his gigantic body, rocking the folds of
|
|||
|
|
black cloth that spilled out over the edges of the chair.
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang saw his father's face turn red. "Wolferl, go to
|
|||
|
|
your room -- immediately!"
|
|||
|
|
The tears were dry on his cheeks by the time his
|
|||
|
|
father knocked on his bedroom door. His father sat down
|
|||
|
|
on the bed and motioned to him to lean over. Then Papa
|
|||
|
|
took him by the shoulder, bent him down, and spanked him
|
|||
|
|
hard, twice. Then he picked him up and shook him so
|
|||
|
|
that, when he set him down again, his eyes blurred.
|
|||
|
|
"When you grow up, Wolferl, then you can talk as much as
|
|||
|
|
you want about how much you know. But in the meantime,
|
|||
|
|
don't talk back to adults!"
|
|||
|
|
He remembered the feel of the stinging in his
|
|||
|
|
behind. Adults! They thought they were like kings, they
|
|||
|
|
could do anything!
|
|||
|
|
Clunk! Someone dropped something right behind him,
|
|||
|
|
near where the Prince in his shining yellow suit was
|
|||
|
|
sitting. It clinked merrily, like silver, a knife or
|
|||
|
|
fork.
|
|||
|
|
Keep counting, keep counting. Eins, zwo, drei,
|
|||
|
|
vier, fuenf, sechs.
|
|||
|
|
He finished playing his own sonata. Everybody
|
|||
|
|
clapped loudly. His father hugged him. The Prince shook
|
|||
|
|
his hand with a gentle, moist grasp. Ladies tried to
|
|||
|
|
kiss him. One of them had a big black spot on her cheek.
|
|||
|
|
Then his father told him that he could go ahead and eat
|
|||
|
|
whatever he wanted from the big silver trays. There
|
|||
|
|
were all sorts of lovely cakes, cookies, and candies. He
|
|||
|
|
thought his father would tell him to stop after a while,
|
|||
|
|
but he just kept on eating, and nobody told him not to.
|
|||
|
|
All he wanted! And the beautiful ladies gave him little
|
|||
|
|
kisses and stroked his face, and told him to take even
|
|||
|
|
more cakes. He wanted to take some home to Salzburg to
|
|||
|
|
Mama. He said so, and the ladies and gentlemen laughed.
|
|||
|
|
He still would have, but his sister Nannerl told him very
|
|||
|
|
sternly, no. Finally he nestled into the arms of a nice
|
|||
|
|
lady in a marvelous, snow-like white dress and his eyes
|
|||
|
|
grew heavier and heavier. He woke up with Nannerl
|
|||
|
|
shaking him. "Wolferl, time to go home!" He heard one
|
|||
|
|
of the ladies say, "The little angel," as he trotted
|
|||
|
|
along, stumbling, holding onto his sister's hand.
|
|||
|
|
Angels lived in Paradise, and that's certainly what
|
|||
|
|
the palace felt like -- a bright heaven, full of lights.
|
|||
|
|
He had played well. He had done his duty.
|
|||
|
|
He started to wonder about this "duty" and why
|
|||
|
|
exactly God was making him do it -- every day, and for so
|
|||
|
|
many hours. But he was too tired to think -- all he
|
|||
|
|
wanted was to go to sleep. And then after that -- to go
|
|||
|
|
home, home to Salzburg!
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Morning came, bright, chilly, and clear. He looked
|
|||
|
|
out the window, leaning on the cold, frosty sill.
|
|||
|
|
Munich! It had taken him a moment to realize that he
|
|||
|
|
still wasn't home in Salzburg, he was in this marvelous
|
|||
|
|
inn, where there were so many chickens -- he could make
|
|||
|
|
them out in the coops behind the courtyard wall. He
|
|||
|
|
wondered if the big brown pig with the long, drippy snout
|
|||
|
|
would come around again and root some more in the garbage
|
|||
|
|
scattered about the court below.
|
|||
|
|
He wished father and Nannerl would get up. Maybe he
|
|||
|
|
could go down to the kitchen and see Gertrude, with her
|
|||
|
|
fat arms and her big smile with the two teeth missing in
|
|||
|
|
the middle. She was so nice to him and might give him
|
|||
|
|
cake to eat again. He loved Gertrude. The only thing
|
|||
|
|
was, poor Mama.
|
|||
|
|
Finally breakfast was over -- he had been too full
|
|||
|
|
of cake to eat much. "I'm sorry Mama didn't come, Papa.
|
|||
|
|
I miss her." He was playing with the little black dog
|
|||
|
|
that belonged to the innkeeper, cuffing at it and then
|
|||
|
|
pretending to feed it so that it would jump up at his
|
|||
|
|
hand. He missed his dog, Bimperl.
|
|||
|
|
"I'm sorry too, Wolferl." His father was busy
|
|||
|
|
reading and just glanced up at him and then back at his
|
|||
|
|
book. His father may have been sorry. But he was really
|
|||
|
|
sorry.
|
|||
|
|
"Why couldn't she come?" The dog slobbered on him
|
|||
|
|
slightly. His hand turned warm and sticky.
|
|||
|
|
"Next time, Wolferl, maybe she can come next time."
|
|||
|
|
"Papa." Hot tears gathered on his left cheekbone
|
|||
|
|
and then rolled down, some running onto his upper lip.
|
|||
|
|
He licked at them.
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, Wolferl!" said his sister. "Stop that!"
|
|||
|
|
Nannerl took a handkerchief from the bosom of her dress
|
|||
|
|
and helped him blow his nose.
|
|||
|
|
Everything would be O.K. But he did miss Mama, he
|
|||
|
|
did. He missed home.
|
|||
|
|
He remembered Willy waving good-bye as the horses
|
|||
|
|
started up and the coach lurched and began to jangle down
|
|||
|
|
the Getreidegasse on the way out of Salzburg. He had
|
|||
|
|
given Willy his best marble, the one with the yellow and
|
|||
|
|
orange streaks in it. As a special going-away present.
|
|||
|
|
Willy had made a little gasp, then his face had hardened,
|
|||
|
|
and then he said that he couldn't take it. But finally,
|
|||
|
|
his smile creasing his freckles, Willy opened his hand
|
|||
|
|
and clasped the marble. Willy would remember him while
|
|||
|
|
he was away.
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
The next day, after breakfast, his father took him
|
|||
|
|
on his lap: "Son, I must talk to you."
|
|||
|
|
Uh-oh. He thought he knew what was coming. "Are we
|
|||
|
|
going to make a visit tonight?" He chewed on the stringy
|
|||
|
|
end of a piece of goat cheese.
|
|||
|
|
"No, no visit tonight. Wednesday -- and you'll have
|
|||
|
|
to practice hard. Wolferl, I have something very
|
|||
|
|
important to tell you. Pay attention!" his father said,
|
|||
|
|
as Wolfgang turned to peek out the window at a dove
|
|||
|
|
pecking away at a piece of grain in the courtyard.
|
|||
|
|
"Remember at the Count's the other night? No more of
|
|||
|
|
that!"
|
|||
|
|
He remembered squirming on the hard, narrow bench in
|
|||
|
|
the grand salon of the Count's mansion -- waiting,
|
|||
|
|
waiting. It wasn't as big as the Prince's palace, but it
|
|||
|
|
had a better harpsichord. When his father had signaled
|
|||
|
|
him and he began, "One, two, three, one, two, three."
|
|||
|
|
Just as he hit the first note of the Handel, someone
|
|||
|
|
laughed. His finger slipped on the next arpeggio, and he
|
|||
|
|
had to play the next measure faster, catching up to the
|
|||
|
|
rhythm, and then a high, piercing female voice said,
|
|||
|
|
"She'll never be able to show her face in Munich
|
|||
|
|
again."
|
|||
|
|
'Show her face?' What did that mean? His fingers
|
|||
|
|
started to stumble again, but he caught up with the
|
|||
|
|
rhythm again and threw himself into the playing. That
|
|||
|
|
awful old Countess continued to talk. But he clenched
|
|||
|
|
his teeth and didn't make any more mistakes. He finished
|
|||
|
|
the piece, really drawing out the ritardando at the end.
|
|||
|
|
He heard the hands clapping but saw only a blur of faces.
|
|||
|
|
He leaped up from the keyboard and scurried over to his
|
|||
|
|
father, wiping his eyes with his knuckles as he hid his
|
|||
|
|
head in his father's lap.
|
|||
|
|
"You mustn't cry when people talk while you're
|
|||
|
|
playing," said his father. The dove in the courtyard
|
|||
|
|
flapped and soared up to perch just below the roof.
|
|||
|
|
"But I didn't cry! And besides, Papa, they should
|
|||
|
|
have been listening."
|
|||
|
|
"Wolferl, if the Countess" -- that ugly, silly old
|
|||
|
|
lady, Wolfgang thought -- "wants to talk, it's her right.
|
|||
|
|
It was her home."
|
|||
|
|
"But Papa." The dove flew off, dark against the
|
|||
|
|
bright sky.
|
|||
|
|
"If you run off and cry like that again, people will
|
|||
|
|
stop inviting us and there will be no more visits." His
|
|||
|
|
father's mouth was pursed and his blue eyes looked angry.
|
|||
|
|
"I don't care," he shouted. "I don't care!"
|
|||
|
|
His father raised his hand, and Wolfgang felt tears
|
|||
|
|
rise in his eyes. But the hand stopped in mid-air,
|
|||
|
|
trembled, and slowly sank down. "Go practice your
|
|||
|
|
violin."
|
|||
|
|
"No!"
|
|||
|
|
"Yes, right now!"
|
|||
|
|
His father took hold of his shirt collar and led him
|
|||
|
|
to the door and pushed him toward the bed and the
|
|||
|
|
battered black violin case that lay beside it. As he
|
|||
|
|
took out the violin and tuned it, he thought: suppose
|
|||
|
|
there were no more visits, so what!
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's father, Leopold, told
|
|||
|
|
himself he had cause to feel satisfied -- very satisfied.
|
|||
|
|
It was Christmas, and there were wreaths up on the houses
|
|||
|
|
as they returned to their inn in Munich in a small gig
|
|||
|
|
from an afternoon visit to the Duke of Zweibruecken. It
|
|||
|
|
was cold in the open air, and only his son's bright blue
|
|||
|
|
eyes and the bridge of his nose were visible under the
|
|||
|
|
folds of a thick brown wool scarf. The New Year, 1762,
|
|||
|
|
was just around the corner, as well as his son's sixth
|
|||
|
|
birthday. Who would have thought that he, the Deputy
|
|||
|
|
Music Director at the court of the Prince-Archbishop of
|
|||
|
|
Salzburg, would this Christmas be the guest of honor --
|
|||
|
|
well, the father of the guests of honor -- at the court
|
|||
|
|
of Maximilian III, the Electoral Prince of Bavaria? At
|
|||
|
|
the age of forty-two, something was finally going right
|
|||
|
|
for him in his life. For so many years he had been
|
|||
|
|
resigned to the fact that his place was on the edges of
|
|||
|
|
crowds of courtiers! But that first night at the palace:
|
|||
|
|
"Herr Kapellmeister, right this way, bring the children
|
|||
|
|
up close so that His Highness can get a good look at
|
|||
|
|
them." The voice of the Prince's music director had been
|
|||
|
|
sweet and charming as he waved his hand in an elaborate,
|
|||
|
|
feminine gesture toward the Electoral throne. And then
|
|||
|
|
later the Bishop of Chiemsee had leaned over to Leopold
|
|||
|
|
during the concert: "Herr Mozart, how fortunate that your
|
|||
|
|
children have had a father with such musical knowledge!
|
|||
|
|
How lucky for the world!"
|
|||
|
|
Just then, Wolfgang had made some awful mistakes,
|
|||
|
|
two right in a row. Leopold felt a sharp pain in his
|
|||
|
|
stomach. But he looked closely at the bishop's face,
|
|||
|
|
with the pig-like but friendly little brown eyes set
|
|||
|
|
deeply into fat cheeks -- it was impassive. The lady on
|
|||
|
|
his other side with the large beauty spot on her cheek
|
|||
|
|
was staring straight ahead, eyelids half-lowered.
|
|||
|
|
Leopold looked over at the slim little figure in the
|
|||
|
|
periwig, perched up on two pillows on the harpsichord
|
|||
|
|
bench. Wolferl had played through his mistakes, keeping
|
|||
|
|
up the tempo -- good boy! The bishop turned and smiled
|
|||
|
|
at him, making a silent gesture of applause. Leopold
|
|||
|
|
smiled back. But as he stretched his lips in a display
|
|||
|
|
of satisfaction, the thought of Wolferl's mistakes
|
|||
|
|
chilled his heart. He couldn't depend on audience
|
|||
|
|
ignorance forever. Perfection, that must be their goal.
|
|||
|
|
Nannerl was coming along fine. But Wolferl must be
|
|||
|
|
disciplined to practice. At home, it was easy, the child
|
|||
|
|
loved the harpsichord, he could hardly be kept away from
|
|||
|
|
it -- except when the other boys came around pestering
|
|||
|
|
him to come out and play. But when they were traveling,
|
|||
|
|
there were so many distractions. After all, when the
|
|||
|
|
Duke's daughter invited Wolferl to go on an outing with
|
|||
|
|
her that afternoon, who could have refused her? His son
|
|||
|
|
came back from the excursion, his periwig askew, his
|
|||
|
|
normally white cheeks flushed pink with excitement,
|
|||
|
|
bubbling over with all the wonderful things he had seen,
|
|||
|
|
the tame deer, the windmill, the twin calves. How could
|
|||
|
|
a father begrudge him that -- especially when the blonde
|
|||
|
|
little seven-year-old duchess held his son so tightly by
|
|||
|
|
the hand and whispered in his ear as if they had known
|
|||
|
|
each other forever? His son bouncing up and down on the
|
|||
|
|
seat cushions.
|
|||
|
|
"You had fun, today, didn't you, Wolferl?"
|
|||
|
|
"Oh yes, Papa, she showed me all kinds of things!"
|
|||
|
|
He patted his son on the head. As they reentered
|
|||
|
|
the courtyard of the inn, Wolfgang jumped out of the
|
|||
|
|
carriage before him and started to run across the court.
|
|||
|
|
"Wolferl, where are you going?"
|
|||
|
|
"Nowhere, Papi."
|
|||
|
|
Leopold could see where two boards were missing in
|
|||
|
|
the back fence to a small field beyond. Two boys in
|
|||
|
|
woolen breeches and heavy blouses were standing tossing
|
|||
|
|
a ball back and forth. "Time to practice."
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, Papi, not now. I'm tired."
|
|||
|
|
"Not too tired to play ball, I suppose."
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, Papi."
|
|||
|
|
"An hour with the violin, then you can play ball."
|
|||
|
|
"A half hour?" Wolfgang looked at the two other
|
|||
|
|
boys.
|
|||
|
|
"An hour."
|
|||
|
|
His son walked off, head hanging. Leopold went into
|
|||
|
|
the public room, ordered a glass of stout, and listened.
|
|||
|
|
The sounds of the violin scales came from the room above.
|
|||
|
|
Faster and faster the notes came. One mistake, then
|
|||
|
|
another, then his son settled down. Soon the sweet
|
|||
|
|
sounds of a Vivaldi sonata reached him. He reached into
|
|||
|
|
the purse containing their earnings from this tour and
|
|||
|
|
tipped the waitress a silver thaler.
|
|||
|
|
A good boy. But, associating with little duchesses,
|
|||
|
|
would he learn not to talk back to the aristocrats, not
|
|||
|
|
to care if the old Countess blathered on during his
|
|||
|
|
performances? Wolferl was only five years old. Still,
|
|||
|
|
if he didn't learn something about tact, and fast, he
|
|||
|
|
could ruin everything -- everything!
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
It was the most beautiful spring day Leopold had
|
|||
|
|
ever seen in Salzburg. Well, a touch of mist, but
|
|||
|
|
nothing much. A soothing chill touched the air.
|
|||
|
|
"Leo, I've never seen you look so happy." Abbe
|
|||
|
|
Bullinger's bulging cassock looked like a small black
|
|||
|
|
mountain, with enough wool in it to have made up clothing
|
|||
|
|
for two ordinary-sized priests.
|
|||
|
|
Leopold smiled, and rubbed the shiny knee of his
|
|||
|
|
third-best suit. He had bought it when he was twenty-
|
|||
|
|
five, but it still fit perfectly. Maybe now he could
|
|||
|
|
afford a new best suit. "Yes, it was an experience."
|
|||
|
|
"How did the children stand all the excitement?"
|
|||
|
|
Leopold took another sip of coffee and stretched out
|
|||
|
|
his long legs under the table in the coffee house.
|
|||
|
|
"Well, Wolferl was a little wild at times, but
|
|||
|
|
really he was very good."
|
|||
|
|
"How did he play? Our little music machine, as
|
|||
|
|
usual."
|
|||
|
|
"No, no, don't even say that in fun, Sepp! Not a
|
|||
|
|
machine. He's sensitive, a more sensitive musician even
|
|||
|
|
than I am. Well, I suppose that's what you'd expect.
|
|||
|
|
But he did play like a -- well, like a performer. Of
|
|||
|
|
course, so did Nannerl."
|
|||
|
|
"He has plenty of self-confidence, I can attest to
|
|||
|
|
that." The Abbe put on a comical face.
|
|||
|
|
"I punished him for talking back to you about the
|
|||
|
|
cadenza, Sepp, it won't happen again."
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, I don't mind. I like being treated like
|
|||
|
|
family. But it's going to be difficult for a child with
|
|||
|
|
his talent and his temperament not to rub people the
|
|||
|
|
wrong way."
|
|||
|
|
"I'll teach him, Sepp, don't worry."
|
|||
|
|
"You can't drive him too hard, though, Leo."
|
|||
|
|
"I won't."
|
|||
|
|
"You don't realize the power you have over him.
|
|||
|
|
I've never forgotten when he was only four, I was
|
|||
|
|
questioning him about God and Christ and the Virgin
|
|||
|
|
Mary, and he told me that God was first, but after God
|
|||
|
|
came Papa."
|
|||
|
|
They both laughed.
|
|||
|
|
"I know what you mean, Sepp, I understand the
|
|||
|
|
responsibility."
|
|||
|
|
"Let him be a boy, Leo."
|
|||
|
|
"Of course, of course. But he has to be a musician
|
|||
|
|
too."
|
|||
|
|
"You can't ever give him back his childhood, Leo."
|
|||
|
|
Sepp didn't seem to understand. He hadn't seen the
|
|||
|
|
expression on the face of Maximilian III. "Oh, Sepp! If
|
|||
|
|
Wolferl works hard, he could be great -- my little boy
|
|||
|
|
could be a great man!"
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Marianne Mozart was in the parlor, crocheting a
|
|||
|
|
bright red scarf, using the new skeins of wool that her
|
|||
|
|
husband had brought her from Munich. She looked up over
|
|||
|
|
at him, where he sat in his favorite rocking chair,
|
|||
|
|
tuning his violin. His profile, with its decisive chin,
|
|||
|
|
looked handsome against the sunlight from the narrow
|
|||
|
|
window looking out onto the Getreidegasse.
|
|||
|
|
"Mozart, I found the money on my dressing table.
|
|||
|
|
Five ducats!"
|
|||
|
|
He smiled. "Go buy yourself something pretty,
|
|||
|
|
Marianne." Marianne Pertl Mozart's plump face blushed,
|
|||
|
|
she pulled at the prominent, fleshy nose that she called
|
|||
|
|
her 'Pertl dowry,' and said, "But five ducats!"
|
|||
|
|
"Marianne, we made 175 ducats in just three weeks in
|
|||
|
|
Bavaria. More than twice my annual salary."
|
|||
|
|
"But shouldn't we be saving something for the
|
|||
|
|
future?"
|
|||
|
|
"No, what we have to do right now is to spend, we
|
|||
|
|
need clothes, wigs, I'm even going to buy a portable
|
|||
|
|
keyboard so that the children don't miss practicing when
|
|||
|
|
we travel."
|
|||
|
|
She straightened her brown muslin skirt. "Spend
|
|||
|
|
more money? Leopold!"
|
|||
|
|
He leaned forward and pounded on the table, knocking
|
|||
|
|
off a hymnal. She leaned over and picked it up, placing
|
|||
|
|
it reverently out of the way. "Fame, Marianne. That's
|
|||
|
|
what we must aim for, fame! We must display the children
|
|||
|
|
to the whole world. First, here in Germany. This fall,
|
|||
|
|
we'll go to Vienna for the start of the winter season.
|
|||
|
|
The children must play for the Emperor." Marianne felt
|
|||
|
|
a hollowness in her stomach. "Oh, Mozart! Not again,
|
|||
|
|
not another trip."
|
|||
|
|
He grinned at her. "Don't worry, we'll all go this
|
|||
|
|
time, the whole family, we all missed you in Munich."
|
|||
|
|
She smiled and blushed, and he kissed her hand.
|
|||
|
|
"I hope We won't have to be parted, the four of us,
|
|||
|
|
ever!"
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, Marianne, we can't say that, who knows what
|
|||
|
|
will happen? The important thing is to make a reputation
|
|||
|
|
in the capital, before the Emperor and the Empress.
|
|||
|
|
Their Imperial Majesties, think of it!"
|
|||
|
|
"Oh. Yes, of course."
|
|||
|
|
"The children will have to practice hard. This is
|
|||
|
|
our big chance."
|
|||
|
|
"Yes, Mozart, I understand." She looked away, her
|
|||
|
|
lips pressed together. He patted her on the shoulder and
|
|||
|
|
walked away. She picked up her crochet work and began to
|
|||
|
|
work again on the red scarf for her son.
|
|||
|
|
Vienna might well be only the beginning. Her
|
|||
|
|
husband had also talked about a Grand Tour of Europe the
|
|||
|
|
following year -- if Their Imperial Majesties were
|
|||
|
|
pleased. Wolferl would need more than scarves -- he'd
|
|||
|
|
need the red-blooded strength of the Pertls to survive
|
|||
|
|
this new life of theirs.
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang was tired of the summer. The heat was
|
|||
|
|
awful. And he'd cut his left shin in two places slipping
|
|||
|
|
on a rock up on the back slope of Castle Hill. The scab
|
|||
|
|
was peeling off and it had started to bleed at the left
|
|||
|
|
edge.
|
|||
|
|
Papa said they were going away again. Vienna this
|
|||
|
|
time. The capital of the Empire. In pictures, Vienna
|
|||
|
|
had been very bright, people dressed in fur coats, lots
|
|||
|
|
of snow. Would it be winter there already? And how
|
|||
|
|
could they go there in a big boat? The Salzach looked to
|
|||
|
|
be too small to get a big boat on it. Would the boat
|
|||
|
|
break up going down the rapids? That would be cold.
|
|||
|
|
They'd freeze!
|
|||
|
|
It was worrying. Did they speak German in Vienna?
|
|||
|
|
Or Turkish? If it was Turkish, how would he be able to
|
|||
|
|
ask for anything? Did Papa speak Turkish? Probably.
|
|||
|
|
Did you say "Giddyup" and "Whoa" to Turkish horses? How
|
|||
|
|
did you say C major in Turkish?
|
|||
|
|
What do you say to Turkish horses, anyway?
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
They weren't freezing at all -- and it was a big
|
|||
|
|
river -- the Danube. It was early morning, the air crisp
|
|||
|
|
with the feel of autumn. He and his sister watched the
|
|||
|
|
waters of the Danube slowly ripple around the stern as a
|
|||
|
|
brisk wind filled the sails.
|
|||
|
|
"Watch closely, now, keep a sharp eye out." The
|
|||
|
|
bearded captain leaned over him. A big puff of smoke
|
|||
|
|
from his pipe made Wolfgang cough.
|
|||
|
|
"What?" he said.
|
|||
|
|
"Just watch, as we go around this bend."
|
|||
|
|
"Yes, don't talk so much, Wolferl, just watch, like
|
|||
|
|
I do!" said his sister.
|
|||
|
|
The river was straightening out again. He saw the
|
|||
|
|
spires! Off to the right, back some distance from the
|
|||
|
|
banks of the river, first one, then two or three, then
|
|||
|
|
finally a forest of church steeples over the intervening
|
|||
|
|
trees -- it was Vienna! It sat like a little toy town,
|
|||
|
|
shining and sparkling on the green plain leading from
|
|||
|
|
the river to the city.
|
|||
|
|
They docked, with a loud thump, and he ran down
|
|||
|
|
right behind Nannerl as soon as the gangplank was down.
|
|||
|
|
Two men in the blue uniforms picked up their luggage and
|
|||
|
|
began looking through it.
|
|||
|
|
"What are they looking for, Papa?"
|
|||
|
|
One of the customs officials, a short man with a red
|
|||
|
|
face, answered, "We're just looking to see what you've
|
|||
|
|
got, young fellow."
|
|||
|
|
"I've got my clothes and some toys and my music and
|
|||
|
|
my violin."
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, so you play the fiddle, do you?" The official
|
|||
|
|
screwed up his face and winked.
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang looked up, "Of course, it's mine, why would
|
|||
|
|
I be carrying it around if I didn't play it? I've been
|
|||
|
|
playing for years and years!
|
|||
|
|
"A good trick that is!" said the red-faced official,
|
|||
|
|
looking down at him kindly. "Well, you can bring your
|
|||
|
|
fiddle into Vienna if you can prove it's yours. Play us
|
|||
|
|
a tune."
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang frowned. Not his fiddle! He grabbed his
|
|||
|
|
violin, tuned it hastily, and struck up an easy minuet.
|
|||
|
|
A crowd had begun to gather. A couple of boys his own
|
|||
|
|
age, wearing flat blue caps, stared at him. He bet that
|
|||
|
|
they couldn't play the violin! Everyone applauded loudly
|
|||
|
|
and then cheered when he started yet another minuet, and
|
|||
|
|
then another. Finally, a very tall dark man in a blue
|
|||
|
|
uniform picked him up, gave him a big kiss on both
|
|||
|
|
cheeks. Wolfgang didn't usually mind kissing, but he was
|
|||
|
|
tired. His eyes began to sting. He didn't want to cry,
|
|||
|
|
he was embarrassed. Papa took him from the arms of the
|
|||
|
|
strange men, put him on his feet, and whispered to him:
|
|||
|
|
"Stop crying, Wolferl. Pull yourself together, smile,
|
|||
|
|
and make a bow to the gentlemen."
|
|||
|
|
"But they aren't gentlemen," he whispered loudly in
|
|||
|
|
his father's ear. "They aren't wearing stockings."
|
|||
|
|
His father looked at him oddly. "Any appreciative
|
|||
|
|
listener is a gentleman," he whispered. "Bow! Low!"
|
|||
|
|
He wiped his nose with his fingers and bowed.
|
|||
|
|
"And smile, Wolferl, don't forget to smile!"
|
|||
|
|
He gritted his teeth and smiled at those men in the
|
|||
|
|
dirty leggings. They looked all right, but they
|
|||
|
|
certainly weren't gentlemen. Why did people always tell
|
|||
|
|
such lies?
|
|||
|
|
As they walked out to find a carriage, Nannerl
|
|||
|
|
pulling him by one hand, all Wolfgang heard were people
|
|||
|
|
speaking German. So Vienna was not full of Turks after
|
|||
|
|
all, there were just a lot of Germans pretty much like
|
|||
|
|
those at home. But there were so many of them. So many
|
|||
|
|
people, so many horses -- but they weren't Turkish, just
|
|||
|
|
plain German horses -- and many carts pulled by animals
|
|||
|
|
and others pushed by people. Papa, sweat marks showing
|
|||
|
|
on the armpits of his coat, hustled them into a
|
|||
|
|
carriage. They jounced along some of the narrow streets
|
|||
|
|
until they came to their lodgings. The street was called
|
|||
|
|
the Ditch, and they were just down the street from the
|
|||
|
|
Cathedral of St. Stephen. They went up some rather steep
|
|||
|
|
stairs into a suite of mustard-colored rooms. Papa
|
|||
|
|
lifted him up onto a bed and pulled off his dusty black
|
|||
|
|
shoes, and he immediately fell fast asleep.
|
|||
|
|
When he awoke, it was dark, but candles had been
|
|||
|
|
lit, and he could see that Father had already found them
|
|||
|
|
a clavichord. He had missed the clavichord these last
|
|||
|
|
days, since they had left the palace of Count
|
|||
|
|
Schlecklischluckli [Schlick] in Linz. He got up, sat
|
|||
|
|
down at the keyboard, and threw himself into it. He
|
|||
|
|
played some of the familiar pieces that he knew well,
|
|||
|
|
especially some dance suites that Papa had told him
|
|||
|
|
people in Vienna would like. Then he set himself to
|
|||
|
|
practice his scales -- D, A. He imagined the power that
|
|||
|
|
he would have in his fingers when he had become strong
|
|||
|
|
enough to master the B-flat minor scale. And his trills
|
|||
|
|
and bass figures, he worked on those too.
|
|||
|
|
The trills were sounding better. Father should be
|
|||
|
|
pleased. Maybe if Papa heard his trills, he wouldn't be
|
|||
|
|
so worried about going to the palace. It was so good to
|
|||
|
|
play again! He was well into his new pieces,
|
|||
|
|
experimenting with one of the minuets he had been playing
|
|||
|
|
at the customs shed, making up what his father called
|
|||
|
|
"variations," when his mother came in, pulling her
|
|||
|
|
wrapper about herself. She grabbed him by the ear.
|
|||
|
|
"Wolferl, do you know what time it is?"
|
|||
|
|
"But Mama!"
|
|||
|
|
"To bed, now. Now!" She helped him take off his
|
|||
|
|
clothes and tucked him under the feather bed. He
|
|||
|
|
started to fall asleep. He felt wonderful. He looked up
|
|||
|
|
at his mother standing over his bed and saw that her brow
|
|||
|
|
was wrinkled up and her mouth looked sad. He didn't
|
|||
|
|
understand. He felt so happy! All of them together, in
|
|||
|
|
Vienna, with a clavichord -- and Papa would be so happy
|
|||
|
|
about the trills.
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Giant walls loomed up ahead as their coach
|
|||
|
|
approached the entrance to the palace. A large crowd was
|
|||
|
|
gathered in front of the gates. They shouted at the
|
|||
|
|
coach, some of them in words that Wolfgang didn't
|
|||
|
|
understand. One of them stuck his face and his hand
|
|||
|
|
inside, almost in Nannerl's face, his toothless mouth
|
|||
|
|
gaping, and croaked out: "A penny, please, Miss, for the
|
|||
|
|
love of God."
|
|||
|
|
"'Love of God,' I'll teach you, you worthless, lazy
|
|||
|
|
scum!" said his father, swinging at the man's hand with
|
|||
|
|
his gilt-headed cane, but missing. Wolfgang ducked. The
|
|||
|
|
man moved away. Wolfgang raised his head. He felt
|
|||
|
|
trapped in the coach, afraid that the people outside
|
|||
|
|
would try to force their way in and maybe hurt them, even
|
|||
|
|
kill them. And Papa was so angry, muttering "miserable
|
|||
|
|
rabble" and "ungrateful swine." Wolfgang didn't know
|
|||
|
|
what they were supposed to be grateful about. Grateful
|
|||
|
|
because they could stand there and talk to people, even
|
|||
|
|
put their arms inside coaches?
|
|||
|
|
"Why is that man begging for a penny, Papa?"
|
|||
|
|
"Because he's lazy, that's why, lazy rabble."
|
|||
|
|
"Could I beg for a penny too?"
|
|||
|
|
His father grasped his arm tightly. "Never! No son
|
|||
|
|
of mine will ever beg. Never, never, never! No Mozart
|
|||
|
|
ever has and no Mozart ever will!"
|
|||
|
|
Just then the gates were opened for them, and they
|
|||
|
|
entered the grounds of Schoenbrunn Palace. They passed
|
|||
|
|
by buildings with rows of tall windows, servants in gold-
|
|||
|
|
embroidered livery, vast beds of mums and asters.
|
|||
|
|
Here they were! The palace!
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Leopold was glad he had hired the fanciest coach
|
|||
|
|
available and that he had dressed out Wolfgang in his
|
|||
|
|
first really fine suit, white moire silk with doubly
|
|||
|
|
embroidered gold facings. If the suit made his son feel
|
|||
|
|
like a prince, that would help when he had to meet real
|
|||
|
|
princes. After all, it would be a daunting experience
|
|||
|
|
for a boy that age to be meeting such exalted personages.
|
|||
|
|
He felt uneasy enough himself -- if they failed today, it
|
|||
|
|
would be the end of his dreams of glory.
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
When they were ushered into the waiting rooms for
|
|||
|
|
the royal suite, Wolfgang thought the people standing
|
|||
|
|
around were all princes and nobles. Imagine! It turned
|
|||
|
|
out they were just servants! Finally the door opened,
|
|||
|
|
and they walked inside. The doors were gold and white
|
|||
|
|
and taller than any he had ever seen. And inside, the
|
|||
|
|
Emperor and the Empress were sitting there, waiting for
|
|||
|
|
them.
|
|||
|
|
She seemed so warm and motherly, and she had on the
|
|||
|
|
most beautiful pale blue dress, just like the Queen of
|
|||
|
|
the Fairies in the picture in the Archbishop's palace in
|
|||
|
|
Salzburg. The Empress, Maria Theresa. What a nice,
|
|||
|
|
singing name!
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
"Mozart, Mozart!" Marianne Mozart whispered
|
|||
|
|
urgently into her husband's ear as they stood
|
|||
|
|
respectfully at a distance of some twenty feet from the
|
|||
|
|
throne-like chairs where the Imperial party sat.
|
|||
|
|
"Shhhhhh!"
|
|||
|
|
"He's climbing onto the Empress' lap!"
|
|||
|
|
"Shhhh!"
|
|||
|
|
"But Mozart!" He placed his finger over his lips
|
|||
|
|
and bowed his head low. She shrugged. The world had
|
|||
|
|
gone crazy.
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
The Empress smiled at him. He told her how much he
|
|||
|
|
liked the trip on the river. She said she liked the
|
|||
|
|
river too. He told some of the stories the sailors had
|
|||
|
|
told him about elves and river maidens. She seemed
|
|||
|
|
interested, opening her mouth wide and saying, "Oh, my!"
|
|||
|
|
Then he tried to climb down.
|
|||
|
|
"No," she said. "Sit here while the Emperor plays."
|
|||
|
|
The Emperor played the harpsichord. A piece by
|
|||
|
|
Bach. He was pretty awful. Wolfgang looked up at the
|
|||
|
|
ceiling and saw golden cherubs looking down on him from
|
|||
|
|
a blue sky. Then the Archduke Joseph, the Crown Prince,
|
|||
|
|
began to play. He was even worse. Wolfgang kicked his
|
|||
|
|
foot idly, back and forth, looking around the room at all
|
|||
|
|
the people. A tall man in a purple suit leaned over and
|
|||
|
|
pushed at Wolfgang's foot to stop the kicking. He
|
|||
|
|
squirmed away from the hand and slipped slowly off the
|
|||
|
|
blue silk lap. The Empress patted his head. When the
|
|||
|
|
Crown Prince finally stopped playing, Wolfgang ran over
|
|||
|
|
to his father. Suddenly he slipped on the shiny waxed
|
|||
|
|
floor. The world turned upside down. He was on his back
|
|||
|
|
and he was dizzy. It was hard to breathe and his chest
|
|||
|
|
hurt. The tall little girl, the Archduchess Antonia,
|
|||
|
|
kneeled down beside him and pulled his head onto her lap.
|
|||
|
|
"There," she said. "Are you all right?" The man in
|
|||
|
|
the purple suit came over and tried to pull her away.
|
|||
|
|
"Yes thanks." He recovered his breath. She looked
|
|||
|
|
down at him. She was beautiful. "I'm going to marry you
|
|||
|
|
when I grow up!" he said. She giggled. He heard the
|
|||
|
|
Emperor laugh. The Crown Prince Joseph came over and
|
|||
|
|
looked down at him. He was almost grown up and had a big
|
|||
|
|
nose. His mouth was like a very thin straight line. He
|
|||
|
|
pushed the Archduchess away and motioned for a servant
|
|||
|
|
to help Wolfgang up. "Just horseplay. The little boy's
|
|||
|
|
all right, Father," he said.
|
|||
|
|
"More than all right, if he appreciates a pretty
|
|||
|
|
girl already," said the Emperor.
|
|||
|
|
After he had gotten up again, Herr Wagenseil came
|
|||
|
|
forward and motioned for him to sit down and play at the
|
|||
|
|
harpsichord. But first his father gestured for him to
|
|||
|
|
come over to him and handed him the score for a piece
|
|||
|
|
Herr Wagenseil had composed. He sat down at the
|
|||
|
|
keyboard. His head still felt a little dizzy. "Herr
|
|||
|
|
Wagenseil," he said, "I'm going to play one of your
|
|||
|
|
pieces. Please turn the pages for me."
|
|||
|
|
The Emperor and the Empress laughed. So did almost
|
|||
|
|
everybody else -- except Herr Wagenseil and the Crown
|
|||
|
|
Prince, who made a face. Wolfgang felt in a good mood,
|
|||
|
|
and he knew he was playing well. He made one mistake
|
|||
|
|
while trying a chord in the bass that was still too much
|
|||
|
|
of a stretch for his hands. It jarred when he hit the D
|
|||
|
|
instead of the C. But he played through, and nobody
|
|||
|
|
seemed to notice -- except the Crown Prince, who winced
|
|||
|
|
and shook his head.
|
|||
|
|
Everybody clapped at the end. But the Crown Prince
|
|||
|
|
didn't clap very hard, and he still looked sour. He felt
|
|||
|
|
like telling the Crown Prince to count when he played,
|
|||
|
|
for heaven's sake.
|
|||
|
|
"Herr Mozart," said the Emperor, "how delighted we
|
|||
|
|
are that you could bring these marvelous children here
|
|||
|
|
today." As his father had taught him, Wolfgang bowed
|
|||
|
|
very deeply, and the queue from his wig flapped over the
|
|||
|
|
top of his head. As he straightened up, he felt his head
|
|||
|
|
to be sure the queue was back in the right place. The
|
|||
|
|
Crown Prince laughed. "A curious little boy," he said.
|
|||
|
|
His father motioned to them and they all bowed again
|
|||
|
|
and left the salon. As they walked back through the
|
|||
|
|
giant halls of the palace, his father smiled and said,
|
|||
|
|
"I thought the Empress was going to keep you for good!"
|
|||
|
|
He caressed Wolfgang's head. "But, Wolferl. You may
|
|||
|
|
have offended Herr Wagenseil. And I don't think the
|
|||
|
|
Crown Prince liked your fidgeting while he was playing.
|
|||
|
|
I've warned you about saying things about adults."
|
|||
|
|
"But the Prince can't play at all!"
|
|||
|
|
"A prince always plays well, Wolferl. Always."
|
|||
|
|
Wolferl shook off his father's hand. "Why do we
|
|||
|
|
have to go now, anyway?"
|
|||
|
|
"We have to go home."
|
|||
|
|
"Home, really home, to Salzburg?"
|
|||
|
|
"No, here, to the inn on the Graben."
|
|||
|
|
"I want to stay here in the palace."
|
|||
|
|
"Only princes live here, dummy," said his sister.
|
|||
|
|
He stuck out his tongue at her. "I could be a
|
|||
|
|
prince too. Couldn't I, Papa?"
|
|||
|
|
"Wolferl," said his mother. "Stop talking such
|
|||
|
|
nonsense."
|
|||
|
|
"Why can't I be a prince, Papa?"
|
|||
|
|
"You can be something better," said his father.
|
|||
|
|
"But what, Papa?"
|
|||
|
|
"A dummy baby," said Nannerl. He jumped at her, but
|
|||
|
|
she scrambled out of the way. He began to chase her, but
|
|||
|
|
she ran faster than he could follow.
|
|||
|
|
As they waited for the carriage, Wolfgang stood,
|
|||
|
|
rubbing the head of a stone lion, and thought, "Prince
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang." He liked the sound of it. Princes could do
|
|||
|
|
whatever they wanted to. Even play the harpsichord when
|
|||
|
|
they didn't know how to. They didn't even have to count!
|
|||
|
|
They could order people to bring them anything they
|
|||
|
|
wanted. He didn't understand his father -- "something
|
|||
|
|
better." What could be better than being a prince?
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
The children need a rest, thought Leopold, as they
|
|||
|
|
climbed back into their carriage. What a day! The whole
|
|||
|
|
sky seemed to sparkle. Schoenbrunn had been a triumph.
|
|||
|
|
The Emperor had been insistent that they come again.
|
|||
|
|
"Bring more music next time. We'll play some things
|
|||
|
|
together!"
|
|||
|
|
It had been the high point of his life. Nothing had
|
|||
|
|
ever been equal to that moment, watching his son on the
|
|||
|
|
Empress' lap. The Lord had been merciful to him, the son
|
|||
|
|
of a bookbinder, the grandson of a peasant.
|
|||
|
|
But it was going to mean even more work for the
|
|||
|
|
children. It was God's will -- they must labor to
|
|||
|
|
fulfill the genius he had vouchsafed them.
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Back inside the grand salon of the palace, all the
|
|||
|
|
guests from the soiree had left. Archduke Joseph said,
|
|||
|
|
"Why did you let him sit on your lap, Maman?" As usual,
|
|||
|
|
he spoke in French.
|
|||
|
|
"Oh, he was such a cute little boy!" said Maria
|
|||
|
|
Theresa.
|
|||
|
|
"What's the matter, son," said the Emperor, his
|
|||
|
|
father. "Did you find that undignified?"
|
|||
|
|
"It certainly wasn't what I had expected." Joseph
|
|||
|
|
frowned. "After all, they're just musicians."
|
|||
|
|
"Well, when you get to be Emperor, you can see that
|
|||
|
|
the Court is better behaved. Are we a little lax,
|
|||
|
|
darling?" he said, turning to Joseph's mother.
|
|||
|
|
"From time to time," said the Empress giggling.
|
|||
|
|
"That boy said he was going to marry my sister," he
|
|||
|
|
said.
|
|||
|
|
"Don't worry about that," said his father. "I'm
|
|||
|
|
sure Toni won't settle for less than a grand duke for a
|
|||
|
|
husband."
|
|||
|
|
"I'm going to marry a prince or a king -- and not
|
|||
|
|
just any prince or king." His eight-year-old sister,
|
|||
|
|
Archduchess Maria Antonia -- Marie-Antoinette -- held her
|
|||
|
|
blonde head up proudly. "He'll have to be important."
|
|||
|
|
"As long as it isn't some musician off the streets,"
|
|||
|
|
he said.
|
|||
|
|
"Don't worry, I won't forget I'm a Hapsburg." She
|
|||
|
|
stroked her long blonde hair.
|
|||
|
|
"Just don't forget that Hapsburgs are rulers, not
|
|||
|
|
gods," said his father. "Some of our royal cousins
|
|||
|
|
forgot that in the past and came to grief."
|
|||
|
|
Toni made a face. "That little boy might be nice as
|
|||
|
|
a friend, though -- he's clever."
|
|||
|
|
"'Friend'! I'd like to see a musician's snot-nosed
|
|||
|
|
kid sit on my lap," said Joseph. "What a friend he would
|
|||
|
|
be!"
|
|||
|
|
"Just because you don't have any friends," said
|
|||
|
|
Toni.
|
|||
|
|
No friends -- so what! thought Joseph. "A prince
|
|||
|
|
doesn't need any friends. He has a higher destiny."
|
|||
|
|
"Nobody would be your friend!" she said.
|
|||
|
|
"Children, children!" said his father. "Stop or
|
|||
|
|
I'll take my cane and lower both your destinies a bit!"
|
|||
|
|
#
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang sat at the clavichord in their rooms on the
|
|||
|
|
Ditch, staring at the dark oak wall. into space. It had
|
|||
|
|
been so wonderful. Herr Schmidt, the organist at
|
|||
|
|
Schoenbrunn, had let him play the organ in the Emperor's
|
|||
|
|
Chapel, and had shown him how to use all the stops.
|
|||
|
|
Wait till he showed old Herr Dittmyer, the organist back
|
|||
|
|
in Salzburg, about all he had learned on this trip.
|
|||
|
|
But he'd have to be careful about showing people
|
|||
|
|
things. Like the time the old Chief Kapellmeister at the
|
|||
|
|
Residenz had asked him about chords. The old man had
|
|||
|
|
said, "Do you know what this chord is -- in the key of
|
|||
|
|
C?" playing on the organ a G, B, D, and F.
|
|||
|
|
"Yes, the dominant seventh."
|
|||
|
|
"And what does it resolve into?" he said, his
|
|||
|
|
wrinkled old lips pursed up.
|
|||
|
|
He thought a minute. "Well, lots of things, it
|
|||
|
|
depends."
|
|||
|
|
"No, it must resolve into the tonic."
|
|||
|
|
"No, it doesn't have to."
|
|||
|
|
The old man looked at him in disgust. "You need to
|
|||
|
|
study more."
|
|||
|
|
"No, you do, you're wrong!" he said loudly. Signor
|
|||
|
|
Lolli raised his arm as if he would hit him, then lowered
|
|||
|
|
it again. He got up hurriedly from the keyboard and went
|
|||
|
|
off down the nave, his black and white robes swirling
|
|||
|
|
behind him. Wolfgang stuck out his tongue at the Chief
|
|||
|
|
Kapellmeister's back, as far as he could, until it hurt
|
|||
|
|
at the roots.
|
|||
|
|
His father beat him, three lashes with the wide
|
|||
|
|
leather belt, when he heard about that. "Don't talk back
|
|||
|
|
to adults."
|
|||
|
|
Or at least don't get caught at it, thought
|
|||
|
|
Wolfgang.
|
|||
|
|
The dominant seventh. Of course often it didn't
|
|||
|
|
always resolve into the tonic, not right away, or else
|
|||
|
|
where would be the fun in the music? Sometimes it was
|
|||
|
|
hard to remember what all the names of the chords were!
|
|||
|
|
But not hard at all to remember the chords themselves,
|
|||
|
|
they were just like individual people, with their own
|
|||
|
|
personalities. Anyway, one chord might have one
|
|||
|
|
personality when you put it in with one set of chords
|
|||
|
|
around it, and entirely another kind of personality when
|
|||
|
|
you put it with other ones. It was all so obvious! You
|
|||
|
|
didn't have to know all those names, you could just hear
|
|||
|
|
it! And nobody listened to him, they thought he didn't
|
|||
|
|
know anything.
|
|||
|
|
And his father kept at him to learn all the names of
|
|||
|
|
the chords, and how to put them together -- then he got
|
|||
|
|
mad when he told old stinky-pants Lolli he was wrong. It
|
|||
|
|
wasn't fair!
|
|||
|
|
"Don't talk back to adults."
|
|||
|
|
Adults! He had to talk forward to adults all the
|
|||
|
|
time, eat with them, play for them. Sometimes they
|
|||
|
|
pretended he was a person. But it wasn't like being with
|
|||
|
|
other kids -- the grown-ups treated him like a kind of
|
|||
|
|
toy person. They never took him seriously. But someday
|
|||
|
|
he'd be as big as anybody. Then they'd listen to him.
|
|||
|
|
Someday.
|
|||
|
|
He looked out the tiny four-paned window onto the
|
|||
|
|
roofs of Vienna. It had started to rain, and the little
|
|||
|
|
pop-pops on the copper roofing were accelerating into a
|
|||
|
|
low drumming. He was tired of the toys Mama had found
|
|||
|
|
for him here in Vienna. He wanted to go home, to see
|
|||
|
|
Bimperl. And all the boys. He hadn't played ball since
|
|||
|
|
forever. By this time Willy might not even be his best
|
|||
|
|
friend anymore. When could they go home to Salzburg --
|
|||
|
|
home to stay?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
[CHAPTER TWO OF "IN SEARCH OF MOZART" WILL BE EXCERPTED
|
|||
|
|
IN VOL.1, NO.2 OF "FICTION-ONLINE]
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=======================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE NEW PROMETHEUS
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
by Otho E. Eskin
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
CHARACTERS:
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Dr. FRANKENSTEIN The mad doctor.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR Moves around in a kind of crouch,
|
|||
|
|
servile and groveling before Dr.
|
|||
|
|
Frankenstein. Dressed in a
|
|||
|
|
shapeless peasant outfit.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MISS LULU MILLSLIP A young woman, very businesslike
|
|||
|
|
and earnest, dressed in sensible
|
|||
|
|
clothes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE CREATURE Solid and inarticulate. Moves
|
|||
|
|
stiffly. He is dressed in dark-
|
|||
|
|
colored, ill-fitting clothes.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Ms. MONSTER The Bride of Frankenstein
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
Scene: Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=======================================================
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
AT RISE: Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory. Ms. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
lies on an examination table. Hovering
|
|||
|
|
around the table are Dr. FRANKENSTEIN and his
|
|||
|
|
loyal assistant, IGOR. FRANKENSTEIN adjusts
|
|||
|
|
wires and attachments while he gives orders
|
|||
|
|
to IGOR. Outside there is the sound of
|
|||
|
|
thunder and flashes of lightning.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Is there enough power, Igor?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR
|
|||
|
|
Almost, Master.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Are the chains and manacles in place?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR
|
|||
|
|
They are as you said, Master.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Set the Neurostat to maximum.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(IGOR scurries about, doing
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN's bidding.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
(Continued)
|
|||
|
|
Adjust the Cell Modulator. Calibrate the Vector
|
|||
|
|
Analyzer. Reset the Brezelor Counter.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR
|
|||
|
|
Yes, Master.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
When the storm reaches its zenith we will begin. With
|
|||
|
|
the help of my loyal assistant, Igor, I will this night
|
|||
|
|
achieve immortality. Then the world will know the
|
|||
|
|
genius of Dr. Frankenstein. Are you ready, Igor?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR
|
|||
|
|
I am ready, Master.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(Enter LULU MILLSLIP. She holds a
|
|||
|
|
clipboard in her hand.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
Hold it right there, buster!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Who are you?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
I'm Inspector Lulu Millslip. I represent the
|
|||
|
|
Bureaucratic Enforcement Administration.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
(Screaming)
|
|||
|
|
Get out of here!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
Not so fast, Doctor. I must inform you that you are not
|
|||
|
|
in compliance with applicable Federal and State
|
|||
|
|
regulations.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
I don't care. I'm a genius.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
You better care, buddy. You want to lose your NIH
|
|||
|
|
grant?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Igor, get rid of her.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(IGOR slouches toward LULU. LULU
|
|||
|
|
suddenly turns on IGOR.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
OK, let's see your Green Card, Senor.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(IGOR recoils in fear.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Get out! Get out! With the help of my loyal assistant,
|
|||
|
|
Igor, my life's work is about...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
You are in violation of Occupational Safety reg 2798.4.
|
|||
|
|
Your employee (LULU gestures toward Ms. MONSTER) is at
|
|||
|
|
risk of being struck by lightning.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
She's supposed to be struck by lightning, you stupid
|
|||
|
|
broad!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(FRANKENSTEIN gestures wildly at
|
|||
|
|
IGOR to attack LULU.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Kill! Kill!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
Have you had a peer group review for this project?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
I have no peers.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
(Looking at her clipboard)
|
|||
|
|
I'm going to have to see your EEO compliance records
|
|||
|
|
for the last six years.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(THE CREATURE shuffles in.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
What's that?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
One of my first efforts. I'm afraid it's seriously
|
|||
|
|
flawed.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
You're kind of short for a monster.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(THE CREATURE looks slowly around
|
|||
|
|
the laboratory, turns to IGOR, who
|
|||
|
|
cowers before him, and reaches out
|
|||
|
|
to touch IGOR's tunic.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE CREATURE
|
|||
|
|
Don't you know -- nobody's wearing taupe this year.
|
|||
|
|
(THE CREATURE looks around the laboratory.) Who
|
|||
|
|
decorated this place? I adore the chains but you must
|
|||
|
|
do something about this laboratory. Some hanging
|
|||
|
|
plants and a few throw pillows would do wonders.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(There is a flash of lightning.
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN rushes to the table.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
The time has come to complete my great experiment.
|
|||
|
|
Tonight I will create my greatest achievement -- the
|
|||
|
|
perfect woman.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(There is a second flash of
|
|||
|
|
lightning and a crash of thunder.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
This is one of the most flagrant violations of the
|
|||
|
|
Employment Rights Act I have ever seen. These manacles
|
|||
|
|
are not in compliance with Occupational Safety and
|
|||
|
|
Health Administration regulations.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(There is a flash of lightning and
|
|||
|
|
Ms. MONSTER stirs.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
It's alive! It's alive! Alive!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
I'm going to have to cite you for over-acting, as well.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(Ms. MONSTER slowly climbs off the
|
|||
|
|
table.)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
I've created new life out of clay and dead carcasses.
|
|||
|
|
The elemental forces of nature have been unleashed to
|
|||
|
|
form natural woman, uncorrupted by civilization. Listen
|
|||
|
|
now to my slave, my love goddess. Listen to the words
|
|||
|
|
of the new Eve.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
Can it, Meathead!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Something seems to have gone wrong!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
Forget your pathetic male, chauvinist fantasies, baby.
|
|||
|
|
If you think I'm going to be your slave, cleaning the
|
|||
|
|
toilets and baking Goddamned cookies for you, you've
|
|||
|
|
got the wrong creation.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Igor, my loyal assistant, did you calibrate the Vector
|
|||
|
|
Analyzer?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
And you can knock off the love goddess crap, too. Your
|
|||
|
|
patriarchal, phallocentric attitude makes me sick.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
This is awful. Igor, my loyal assistant, did you remember to set
|
|||
|
|
the Neurostat correctly?
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR
|
|||
|
|
Yes, master.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Then I think I had better talk to you about body parts.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
(To MS. MONSTER)
|
|||
|
|
I'm Inspector Lulu Millslip from the Bureaucratic Enforcement
|
|||
|
|
Administration. I would like to know whether you have
|
|||
|
|
experienced any untoward or inappropriate treatment or actions by
|
|||
|
|
management or your colleagues.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
I'm glad you asked me that. This place is a disgrace. Most of
|
|||
|
|
Frank's co-workers -- all the ghouls and vampires, werewolves and
|
|||
|
|
zombies -- are kept in cells and bound with chains.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(LULU scribbles furiously in her notebook)
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
(Continued)
|
|||
|
|
There is entirely too much vulgar language around the laboratory
|
|||
|
|
-- loose talk about Bunsen burners and rheostats. The worst of
|
|||
|
|
it there is an absolute barrier to promotion.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
Scandalous!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
Unless you happen to be male, white and a human being there is no
|
|||
|
|
possibility of advancement.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
I must report all this immediately.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
I have no chance to assume management responsibility simply
|
|||
|
|
because I was created out of bits and pieces of discarded
|
|||
|
|
corpses.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
This is one of the most flagrant examples of anthropocentrism
|
|||
|
|
I've ever encountered.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
(To LULU)
|
|||
|
|
Lady, you can't...
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
You'll have your chance to answer these charges during the
|
|||
|
|
hearings.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
This whole operation is a blatant effort to politically
|
|||
|
|
marginalize the living dead.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
LULU
|
|||
|
|
I'm getting mad as hell!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE CREATURE
|
|||
|
|
Me too! Look at this outfit he's given me to wear. It's a
|
|||
|
|
scandal! I can't be seen in public in sackcloth.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR
|
|||
|
|
What about me!? I haven't had a day off in seventeen years.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
You're interfering with important scientific research.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
We're going to put a stop to these outrages.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
Get out of my laboratory! All of you.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
We will defend the rights of the werewolves and those who are
|
|||
|
|
hirsutedly disadvantaged.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE CREATURE
|
|||
|
|
Hear! Hear!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
We will fight for the protection of vampires and other creatures
|
|||
|
|
who are dietarily challenged.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
IGOR and THE CREATURE
|
|||
|
|
All power to the undead!!
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
Igor, call 60 Minutes and tell them to get a film crew down here
|
|||
|
|
immediately. Creature, get some chains and attach yourself to
|
|||
|
|
the front gate of the castle.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE CREATURE
|
|||
|
|
I love it.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
You can't do this to me! I haven't got tenure yet.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
MS. MONSTER
|
|||
|
|
Lulu, bring in as many lawyers and bureaucrats as you can find.
|
|||
|
|
We're going to close this place down.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
(MS MONSTER, LULU, IGOR and THE CREATURE
|
|||
|
|
exit, singing "We Shall Overcome.")
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
FRANKENSTEIN
|
|||
|
|
What have I done!? I've created a monster.
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
THE END
|
|||
|
|
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
=================================================================
|
|||
|
|
|