Louis and Reinette, Part Two

Louis waited behind the gilded doors of his apartments. His companions jested amongst themselves, making many a base joke about the large branches they were wearing. He itched at his own identical costume. He wondered if the branches would be enough to hide his features, his walk, his stature.

He knew the entire gathering was waiting for him, but he would not give them what they wanted of him, They wanted his attention, his favor. Pandering social climbers, all of them. He remembered with a grimace the last ball he had been to- hardly a glass of wine in him before he had been asked when he would visit this Duchesse’s estate, or when his dear cousin would be hoping to join him in a hunt, or when he would appoint someone to fill the office left my a recently deceased member of his administration. Somehow, that question always came from someone who ‘happened to know’ someone very well-bred with perfect qualifications.

But not tonight! Let them scramble and guess. He hoped they’d trip over themselves trying to get to him. Let his friends take some of the attention for once.With a glace at the rowdy men around him, he had no doubts they would welcome the attention, particularly of the female variety.

With a grin, he ordered the doors to be opened. As expected, the wall of people turned to face him in a swirl of color. Louis tried to be inconspicuous, for once in his life. From his leafy view he tried to pick out those he knew, both friends and annoyances, an wondered if his disguise would work.

Apparently so. He saw one of his companions nearly tackled by some creature in pink. All the better for him- she seemed coquettish and she had the tones of a parrot when she spoke. Louis had a feeling his friend wasn’t interested in the girl’s voice as they moved off to a shadowy corner.

He turned to move in the opposite direction when he bumped into someone he could not see through the branches of his costume.

“It seems, my King, that tonight you mean to disappoint many by hiding yourself. Alas, you have been found out.”

He turned to see a somewhat familiar pair of mirthful eyes in an oval face. “Madame D’Etoilles!” He gave a short, embarrassed laugh. “It is true, you’ve discovered me.” He felt his face flush. So much for anonymity. To be found out so quickly? His eyes dropped to the ground, but shifted back up when he realized he was acting ashamed just for having a poor disguise.

Of all the courtiers he knew, this one been the most recently, and favorably, upon everyone’s lips. Madame D’Etoilles, actor, singer, arguably the best hostess for a salon if your wanted to get in with the philosphes. He could see now what all the fuss was about. Her face was expressive, young and somehow open and honest with wide brows and a soft mouth. Later, Louis would reflect that her strange beauty was never truly captured by painters. It was her expressiveness, her charm in the moment, that truly enchanted people.

And enchanting she was, at least to him. Louis found himself marveling at her wit, her knowledge of art and literature and even hunting! He soon forgot his vow of anonymity and cast off his leafy mask. There was a sound of profound dismay from that shadowy corner amongst the noises of delight when everyone realized who he was. Served her right.

But Madame D’Etoilles! Jeanne. Reinette. A member of the bourgeoise, a native of Paris and a delightful creature. She was, to be honest, a bit frank and overeager to please. But a single look at his dowdy Queen, mistress of all things somber, made Reinette look like a celestial object. He decided that he would see her again. Oh, of course it would be a nice piece of gossip for his courtiers. People would talk. People always talked. Louis shook off these notions of rationality and caution. What was the point of being the king of France if you couldn’t see whoever you damn well pleased? He had another sip of strong wine. There was a ball in Paris, and he would be pleased to see her there. She smiled at him.

When Louis looked back on that evening much later in his reign, he would realize that of course, Reinette, his little queen, was not all that different form the girl in pink. She had a better voice, a kinder face, a more engaging wit. But all the same, she came to that ball looking for a king and a position at his side. How odd that she should have found a lover and a friend as well.

Louis and Reinette, Part One

I wrote a series of vignette type things for a historical fiction class I took last fall. I had recently become interested in Madame de Pompadour (Thank you Doctor Who!), who was pretty badass, (Wiki her here). She was a royal mistress of King Louis XV in the French court of Versailles. As much as I think monarchs in general are very silly affairs, I really enjoyed the research for this project. (And I may or may not have a love that borders on the sexual for period costumes…)

 

Versailles, 1745

Reinette stepped down from her carriage with the aid of an extended male hand, pushing her huge panniers down against her hips so as not to catch them on the doorway. As expected, a riot of colors, silk and satin on boatlike walls of skirts, the flash of decorative swords at mens’ hips and a moving sea of masked faces greeted her. She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the squeeze and surge at the entrance to the palace, the mild roar of a a few hundred excited, chatty French revelers and social climbers swarming her hears. She tried to pick out voices she knew. There were a few, as was to be expected, considering her extensive social circles. A few cries of greeting before she was swept into the gush along with her companions.

At the door, the assigned announcer sat slumped in a chair, flushed and clearly defeated, having given up his charge in the face of an impossible task of introducing every guest that made their way to an open-invitation masked ball at Versailles- which was just about anyone who could afford a gown or a sword. A considerable number of people, as Reinette was swiftly discovering.

There was food, and wine, and music, yes, but that is not why Reinette was there. Oh no, there was wine and food and music at her own salon at her own estate. An estate that just happened to be close to the King’s favorite hunting grounds. Reinette passed them all by.

She found a few acquaintances and began to make light conversation. Light, and witty as she could manage while casting her eyes about the room looking for a certain specific person, for a door that might open at any moment and spill forth what every woman in the room was hunting for. Hunting, indeed- Reinette had come dressed for the part as Diana. Her mask was already beginning to become a bother. It itched and she could feel the sweat beneath it mixing with her white makeup, staining and sticking to the plaster of the silk mask. No, it would not do for her to be in the middle of an involved conversation should the object of her interest choose to finally make an appearance in his own palace.

Her pinched feet were beginning to wear on her nerves as the night wore on towards the morning. And yet she waited. She waited through the appearance of the queen, her somber face countering the effect of her magnificent gown and the massive, legendary diamonds in her hair, and shortly behind her the actual reason for the ball, the Dauphin and his new bride. These Reinette noted, as did the rest of the overheated and nearly frenzied crowd. She noted them and waited still, smiling, moving through the crowd, a greeting here, a wish of good health there. She gave in and had a glass of wine, leaving the table immediately afterward to the dismay of the overworked servants and their elaborate presentations of food and drink. The red warmth moved through her, brought a slight flush to her face and lips.

There was a surge of noise, a buzz and then a slight hush as everyone who could see the back wall turned their attention to the doors- the ones that happened to lead to the King’s apartments- opened, and out from them stumbled a group of artfully clipped yew trees.

Reinette watched as a pretty young thing in pink and cream satin accosted the foremost tree, and shortly thereafter disappear into a shadowed corner with a rustle of skirts and twigs. Reinette almost felt sorry for the girl.

Three minutes later she was laughing with King Louis XV, who had abandoned his leafy bower to better see the face of his charming companion.

When Reinette would look back on this momentous occasion, she would not remember over what book they argued the finer points, or what play they laughed over. She would not remember how her mask itched or her feet pinched. She would not feel a sense of triumph. She would, however, remember the way that Louis laughed, heartily and deep but not loud. She would remember the way he would sometimes speak quietly and quickly to her when he was deeply interested in what they were talking about, but his voice would rise sharply along with his expressive eyebrows when she said something outrageous. She would remember the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot when he thought no one was looking. She would remember the glare she got from a deeply disappointed girl in pink and cream as she extracted herself from a walking yew tree who was not, in fact, the king of France.

She would most definitely remember the sentence:”It would please me, madame, if you would meet me at a ball in Paris next Sunday.”

She would remember smiling, accepting. And oddly enough, feeling more excited at his smile than his title. She almost felt guilty. But then again, the fortune teller has said she would reign over the heart of a king, not rule by his side as a queen.

Firste Poste, Hasek, Kafka, Ridiculous

With extra ees.  I thought I might start off with an exercise I did for a Critical Social Thought class in college (2008). I rewrote Kafka’s Metamorphosis in the style of Jaroslav Hasek (Czech satirist, author of Good Soldier Schweik). It’s a bit over the top but I had a lot of fun with it, enjoy the ridiculosity.

The Metamorphosis, as Perverted by Hasek

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. At once, he thought to himself, ‘Well, so much for breakfast, it looks like I’m going to have to settle for a late lunch, as I cannot find my mouth.’ As Gregor made an attempt to turn his rather well-rounded self over, he discovered that his back was hard and somewhat smooth, curved like the shell of a turtle. He also discovered that his legs, while impressive in quantity, were otherwise entirely useless save for their innate novelty. However, Gregor Samsa refused to be discouraged by this insignificant detail and instead adhered his entire existence to the noble task of forcefully ejecting himself from his bed.

With a great deal of effort and suffering, Gregor finally found himself upon the floor, and with a new and endlessly useful function for his many new limbs. His euphoria, however, was interrupted by a soft knock upon his bedroom door. It seemed that his mother had awoken to tell him that his the chief clerk had arrived to investigate the reason for his tardiness at work.

“Gregor, darling, the chief clerk is here to see you… Gregor?”

“Samsa! You are ruining your already tarnished record with this incredibly irresponsible display! Open this door at once and explain yourself!”

Gregor, finding some difficulty in opening the door in his current condition, instead responded with enough honesty and humility in his voice to bring tears to his already vulnerable mother’s eyes: “You are right, sir, about my irresponsible nature… Even after the countless hours of my worthless existence put into working for your company, I still have not yet learned the true meaning of work and dedication! I am truly an utterly useless creature, and as punishment for my ineptitude it seems that the Lord Almighty has seen fit to transform me into what feels like a gigantic insect.”

Following the baffled pause, Gregor returned his efforts to open this door, and with a final push of what felt a bit like his new mouth, he managed to push open his bedroom door. The actions that followed resulted in utter chaos: his teary mother screamed, the chief clerk, recoiling in horror, tipped over the breakfast table with a great crash that awoke the rest of the household.

“What IS this thing, Mrs. Samsa?” the chief clerk demanded in a combination of disgust and fascination with the humbly quiet insect that was Gregor.

The woman had just enough wits about her, despite her hysterics, to venture that it might actually BE Gregor! Mr. Samsa and Gregor’s younger sister had both come rushing into the room to address the uproar occurring in the apartment, and were both staring at the large insect that could have been Gregor.

“Gregor, darling, is that you? Move or… do something if you are!”

Gregor, maintaining his demeanor of extreme humility (an impressive feat when one doesn’t have a proper face), managed to utter, “Why, Mother, do you not recognize your own son?”

Well, at this turn of events, Mrs. Samsa and Grete began to weep in both astonishment and horror, and Mr. Samsa abruptly made an about-face back towards the bedroom in order to go back to sleep and forget all of this nonsense.

As the chief clerk stood there, dumbfounded at this sign of cognizance from an enormous insect, Gregor began at once to apologize for his unseemly appearance.

“My most sincere regrets, sir, for this unfortunate display. I hope I have not inconvenienced you any further with this gravely unprofessional event!”

The chief clerk seemed quite unsure of how to respond to a talking insect for a moment, until he managed to stammer out, “N-no, Mr. Samsa… I… My most sincere condolences to you at this most incredible event! I… I shan’t bother you any further…But what an incredible happening!” And with that, the chief clerk left the house in a panicked stumble.

As Gregor sat amongst the weeping women of his household, he thought it best to at least get himself something to eat, and calmly began munching away at what bits of breakfast had fallen to the floor. After a while, both his mother and his sister recovered from their weeping to study him more carefully, wondering what on earth to do next.

Mrs. Samsa, after nearly ten minutes of watching the touchingly humble figure nibbling at the toast lying on the floor, finally recognized this phenomenon for what it truly was. A religious miracle! The very symbol of humility and grace was sitting before them, an example from God above of how humankind ought to properly behave!

“To be as humble as a bug, the honor would be too much!” And she commenced her weeping once again. His sister ran off to find the nearest Rabbi, who then told his congregation of this miraculous event, and the news of the Samsa Insect spread throughout the city, throwing everyone into a frenzy.

In no time there was a constant stream of newspaper reporters, religious officials from various faiths, political figures and scientists from near and far coursing through the Samsa apartment. “Samsa the Amazing Man-Insect,” “Scientific Phenomenon of Massive Speaking Beetle Sweeps the Nation,” and “Giant Bug Signals the Coming of Christ” were all headlines commonly seen within a few weeks. Gregor himself was taking all of this quite gracefully, humbly turning this way and that for the benefit of the many admirers, and kindly allowing visitors to question him, poke him, photograph him, or adorn him with flowers, depending on the nature of the observer. Gregor’s parents, a discerning and practical couple, soon began asking for a small donation at the door, to help pay for Gregor’s expenses, of course, in return for a viewing. The tiny Samsa apartment soon grew too small for such activity. In return for having had the honor of knowing Gregor before his transformation, the chief himself insisted that he purchase the Samsas a newer, and more comfortable residence free of charge, and of course, released the family from their debt.

Things continued to run in such an agreeable fashion for the Samsas for some time, until certain representatives of different fields such as science, politics and religion began to discuss what to actually DO with Gregor. Many wanted to dissect him, others wanted to use him as collateral, and others wanted to worship him. And yet others continued to insist that he ought to be mummified and buried as a religious relic somewhere in Jerusalem. Debates soon became arguments, arguments grew into conflicts, and before you knew it, there was a near riot between the scholars of medicine, the military and the fanatics. Novels were written in a matter of weeks about the issue, a small number of cults were started in various locations throughout Prague, and the entire city fell into a general state of chaos. Not one of those factions dared to actually touch Gregor for fear of damaging such a valuable commodity. Nor did anyone actually bother to ask Gregor what HE thought of all this, as they were too busy making their own assumptions about the nature of his transformation.

In the midst of all this, Gregor began to tire of the constant attention and fuss, not to mention the flowers and incense were beginning to make him ill. So one day, while his family was in another room discussing terms of relocation with the mayor, he simply climbed down from his large, opulent altar and wandered out the door into the city of Prague in search of something new to occupy his time. After all, it was inappropriate for such a humble being to receive so much attention.

Gregor’s disappearance, for many years thereafter, was known as the Great Mystery in Prague. Many of the fanatics believed that it signaled the immediate coming of the apocalypse, but after six months of no fire or brimstone, they eventually found a new idol to worship, as fanatics often do. There was an official report filed within the military and government offices, and the research notes within the medical field were summarized and put away into the archives. A few novelists made their short fortunes on theories as to what had happened, but after a few years, Gregor remained a local legend to all save the Samsa family, who lived comfortably thereafter on the profits gained from his period of popularity. As for Gregor, no one knows what eventually happened to him, and at this point, no one really cares.