The Big Book of Classic Fantasy

by The Big Book of Classic Fantasy (retail) (epub)

  Everyone is frightened more by this interlude than by the unexpected meteor shower.

  THE HOROSCOPE MINUET

  The Pierrots now quickly chase the bewildered couples to the sides. The celestial globe is transformed into a terrestrial globe by means of a multicolored cloth that is meant to represent America. The king’s first wife goes up onto the globe—and with the wizard’s help, the lady on the terrestrial globe is given her horoscope by the seven Pierrots.

  The servants with the milk-white lanterns form the wide arc of a semicircle behind the globe, pushing the courtiers, minstrels, and other women of the harem into the background on the right and left sides.

  The Mercury Pierrot now has the traditional winged helmet on her head and a terrible laughing villain’s mask in each hand.

  The Mars Pierrot has a Polish Hussar’s fur cap on her head and a large pistol in each hand.

  The Jupiter Pierrot has the traditional long locks and beard of Zeus—and carries a scepter and orb in her hands.

  The Saturn Pierrot wears a lustrous European top hat and a stiff collar consisting top and bottom of black and white rings, so that the collar resembles a target. The collar extends far beyond her shoulders and can easily be pushed forward with her chin onto her breast, so that at times the full rings can be seen.

  The Moon Pierrot still wears the costume that was prescribed for the moon gavotte. The Sun Pierrot must often hold up with both hands her large mask of the face of the sun, which is heavily spotted with beauty marks.

  The wizard continually changes the constellations; he is always seeking to improve them. While remaining in place, the Pierrots assiduously dance minuets, wherein they evoke their missing partners, and also occasionally perform assertive solo dances. After the first wife has been presented her horoscope, for which she gives thanks by doing a solo dance on the globe, the second is presented hers in a similar manner—though this proceeds a little more wildly. Finally, the king, who naturally finds all this magical dancing absurd and appalling, is also presented his horoscope. The king has the maid place his crown on the terrestrial globe.

  In determining the constellation, however, the crown is knocked down by the Saturn Pierrot’s collar—and the terrible hubbub that ensues ends the horoscope minuet. The jester straightens out the bent crown—and the king is very angry—his forehead wrinkles menacingly.

  THE SATURN’S RINGS’ ROUND DANCE

  The king is very annoyed, so naturally everyone rushes to present the next number.

  A near-frightened haste is apparent in the court and in the music; one is always a little frightened before the king—because everything arranged by the harem was intended to please the king, and to honor him, but it cannot be denied that some things that have happened may smack of mockery in regards to the king’s astral proclivities.

  And so the servants rush to present the great rings of Saturn. And out of the globe comes a black Saturn with two white rings and one gray. The rings are a little tilted—higher toward the back—on their firm supports.

  And now the complete Saturn, like a wonder of the world, dances around—everyone hand in hand.

  The Pierrots dance in the rings, while the maid dances on the globe.

  Then the two queens dance together on the globe, while the women of the harem dance in gowns in the rings. Everyone except the two queens wears wide-brimmed Saturn hats, which are modeled on the large globe with the rings. The dances are performed more and more quickly, because the king is very impatient.

  At one point he is comfortable and makes the poet and jester dance with them. Then, however, his good mood goes downhill with lightning speed.

  The servants holding the lamps must also dance around Saturn.

  Meanwhile, as the king once again looks very grim, the maid gives a signal for all to come to a standstill.

  And everyone stands still. The nightingales sing. The music of the spheres is booming in the deepest bass range, while the king attentively studies the laces of his patent leather boots.

  THE MAID’S WALTZ

  The maid, atop the globe, pushes her Saturn hat down onto the nape of her neck and gives the servants another sign—and the three big rings of Saturn are individually removed over the head of the stooping maid and carried away.

  The maid gives the minstrels leave to begin her waltz, jumps cheerfully down from the globe, and asks the king to dance—but he gives her the executioner as a dance partner. And soon a spirited waltz is begun by the courtiers and the women of the harem. A servant holding a tall lantern stands with his back to the globe and a circle forms around him. Unfortunately, a few arrogant dancers now take up some of the astronomical instruments—and this show of arrogance is such a success that soon all of the instruments, except the globe and the telescope, are taken up by those dancing the maid’s waltz.

  When the king sees this, he walks into the center and sternly prohibits any more dancing.

  The instruments are set again in their rightful places at the right and left. The tall lamps, too, are soon returned to the right and left as before.

  The king has placed his left hand on the globe and sadly lets his head fall to his chest.

  The nightingales are very loud again.

  The people are silent.

  Soft music of the spheres undulates up and down.

  Only a few of the harem women continue wearing their Saturn hats; most give them to the servants and sigh.

  THE KING AND THE POET

  The wizard reverently approaches the king. But the king asks for the poet.

  As the poet stands before the king, he indicates his deep contempt for his court and his harem, then with a transfigured expression regards the stars in the heavens, and the astronomical instruments themselves—and lastly the poet’s guitar. This pantomime is repeated a few times, with variations. The poet hesitantly copies the movements of the king—points his index finger at the court, harem, stars, instruments, king, and guitar—lastly at his own forehead—then slides the guitar off his shoulder and throws it at the feet of the king—then he turns his back.

  The king is startled, the nightingales flap their wings, the quiet music of the spheres undulates up and down; a wavering goes through the ranks of the courtiers and the women of the harem tremble with excitement.

  The king gently places his hand on the poet’s left shoulder—but the poet shakes it off.

  The king waves in his executioner.

  THE EXECUTIONER

  The executioner whistles for his bright red assistants to approach, and he pulls his straight broad sword from its scabbard.

  The poet is surrounded by the assistant executioners and forced into a kneeling position. Chains rattle.

  It grows very quiet on the stage; the only sounds are the gnashing of the courtiers’ teeth and the rustle of the trembling women’s dresses.

  The executioner has his assistant burnish his straight broad sword; this is done with much ceremony. While everyone awaits the execution with horrified eyes, the music of the spheres grows louder—but it is still soft and whispering, like the whisper of distant reeds. The executioner takes his sword in hand, checks its sharpness and prepares to discharge his duties in the usual manner. Then the poet jumps over and kneels before the king—wrings his hands, jumps up again, and grasps the executioner’s arm tightly, repeats both actions, and while doing so tears the peacock feathers from his cap and waves them unceasingly in the air—making spooky gestures.

  And the king waves the executioner to his side—and places his sword back in its scabbard.

  The executioner’s assistants withdraw. The music of the spheres is thrilling and showy, like a magic garden.

  The poet sits down on the tiled floor and rattles his chains.

  THE WIZARD

  The wizard takes his peacock feathers in his right h
and, raises them and draws them through the air in magic helical lines, while continually walking backward.

  And all the stars in the sky fall simultaneously, straight down from the sky.

  An eerie buzzing and chirping music of the spheres sounds. The king becomes excited and sways with his trembling wives, courtiers, and servants, who all weep terrible tears and tear at their faces with their fingernails; those in the background do the same.

  The poet crawls to the marble bench and sits down.

  Every man and woman sways back and forth at the falling of the stars and through their arm movements show that they are having the sensation of being lifted into the sky, along with the tile floor and the nearby bushes.

  THE STARS OF THE SKY

  Colorful clouds of smoke rise at the front of the stage, and the king and his court are not visible. Large round star worlds—spheres one to five meters tall—slowly rise up through the smoke.

  The music of the spheres grows wilder and wilder.

  A laughing full moon with a large face soon appears, quite still in the midst of the smoke.

  Comet tails bounce up and down like jumping jacks to the right and left of the full moon.

  While the music of the spheres rages in a frenzy, the curtains are slowly drawn.

  The frenzied music of the spheres ends with a drum roll.

  ACT 2

  THE DANCE OF THE THREE LARGE COMETS

  The king remains as he was at the end of act 1, with his courtiers and his harem stage rear.

  The stars of the sky are still falling straight down; the tiled floor, the nearby bushes, and the entire court are still rising higher into the sky.

  The poet, still in chains, has now laid down on the bench to the right and is staring at the falling stars, unconcerned.

  The servants with the tall lanterns are distributed irregularly, some at the sides, some at the back. The entire court has turned its back to the audience.

  At the wizard’s command some servants carry the celestial globe forward and place it there to the left of the large telescope. A large comet appears in the sky, and the stars in the sky stand still.

  At the sight of the comet the women flee with bright cries; the men try to calm the women.

  The king is up front, leaning against his celestial globe.

  Meanwhile, the comet descends and gleams at the back of the stage.

  Everyone stands like statues, with their mouths open in fear and horror.

  The wizard soothes them by passing his peacock feathers over the heads of the frightened.

  The comet comes forward and bows before the king, who regains his composure with difficulty.

  The poet stands and bows to the comet and rattles his chains.

  The two other comets arrive in succession, in the same way as the first, and their welcome to the king plays out exactly the same.

  The music of the spheres sounds very mild, indulgent and soft.

  The men and women gradually calm down; the wizard instructs the servants to spread colorful blankets on the tiles to the right and left.

  And the women settle on the blankets.

  The men arrange themselves, standing behind the women.

  The king is leaning against his globe to the left of the executioner, who leans on his sword.

  Right in front on the marble bench sit the poet and the jester.

  The music of the spheres begins playing dance tunes.

  And the comets dance.

  The comets are represented by people whose heads are invisible. Their feet and human extremities are also invisible. In place of their heads, a beam like that of an electric headlight shoots into the air; smaller beams radiate from between their human shoulders. Their bodies are surrounded by feathers like glittering branches. The lights on their heads and between their shoulders are easy to move, and the glittering branches as easy to bend and manipulate as spiders’ legs—they glisten as if coated with enamel in countless bright colors.

  During the dance of the comets all the beams of light are repeatedly set at different angles to one another, often staying in one position only for a few seconds—whereby a twitchy element enters into the expression of the dance. The king follows the playful dancing with his body bent far forward.

  The music of the spheres is bright.

  THE DANCE OF THE THREE LARGE COMETS WITH THE SEVEN SMALLER STARS

  The music of the spheres suddenly becomes very noisy.

  And with bangs and booms the seven smaller stars appear in succession in the sky. They are more than double the size of the moon, and move independently, like the comets on the stage. The greeting of the king is done very casually—almost irreverently.

  Two of the comets move to the right and left and one moves back, and they bend slightly forward, so that the beams from their heads come together in a crisscross pattern.

  And under these three beams the seven smaller stars first dance alone.

  Among the seven smaller stars the largest is no more than two meters high. Some of the stars are jagged, others cube-shaped, round, or square; some of their lights shine, as gleaming as colored diamonds, others like gold or silver or opal and pearl. Their movements primarily consist of revolving while sparkling and swaying back and forth, but they can quickly change their position and leap. Feet and human extremities are not to be noticeable on these smaller stars, either.

  Finally, the comets dance together with the smaller stars; the show of color and light is endlessly lively. The comets, whose fingers are always spinning, use the stars to create a variety of brilliant ornaments that at first remain fixed, but subsequently act as a constantly rotating kaleidoscope—full of violent movement.

  The dances are accompanied by the powerful music of the spheres; solemn organ notes frequently break through the dance tunes.

  As the stars and comets suddenly come to a standstill—the comets with their head beams pointing straight up—the music of the spheres again becomes very gentle.

  The courtiers and the ladies begin moving again—as if they had been freed from a spell.

  THE PAS DE DEUX

  The king’s two wives find the lights of the astral dances extraordinarily pleasing—and both want to dance together with the comets and the stars. In pantomime they ask the king to permit them to do so.

  The king nods and thinks about other matters with wide-open eyes.

  As the women approach the comets, these move into the background of the stage and lay themselves flat on the floor so that very little of their bright tails can be seen.

  The queens wonder why this has happened, and now want to dance with the seven small stars, but these move sideways and into the background, thereby greatly disturbing the courtiers and the women of the harem.

  The two queens dance with the stars anyway, at first alone, to show them that they are certainly worthy of dancing with stars. The minstrels play along as well as they can; the music of the spheres sounds restrained and mocking.

  Everyone is amazed.

  In pantomime, the king asks the wizard how this has happened. The wizard shrugs.

  The two queens break off their dancing; they are insulted and angry—very piqued.

  THE PAS SEUL

  The maid wishes to save the honor of the royal harem; she appears dressed in full-length sheer white robes. She is wearing a crescent-shaped snow-white hat, the horns of which extend down next to her ears. In her hands she has a long duster of snow-white feathers. Flickering colored lights color her for a time, giving her the look of a Scottish tartan.

  The maid dances and displays her longing for the stars, which stand at the sides, half-concealed by the bushes. She offers a particularly poignant expression of longing to the comets lying in the background.

  At times the comets briefly rise up,
but always lie back down again. The maid often dances with her back to the audience, showing off the Scottish tartan to great advantage.

  Only three or four of the servants with the tall lamps are to be seen, at the back or at the sides.

  The stars remain in their places.

  In the end the maid grows very sad and, shaking her head, crosses over to the king and falls sobbing at his feet. Her pain is so apparent that the courtiers cannot stifle their smiles.

  The king smoothes both her cheeks and bends down to lift her up.

  THE FRIENDSHIP PANTOMIME

  The women of the harem are enormously agitated; they gesture emphatically and all rise, angrily ball up their colorful scarves and throw them at the heads of the servants and the courtiers.

  And now all the women dance a dance meant to express their great desire for friendship, a dance that consists mainly of arm and finger movements.

  Artful back and forth movements of their bodies are added, but their legs and feet remain motionless, and only occasionally move a few steps to change the dancers’ position.

  During this dance the comets and the stars are unable to move. The king laughs at his harem.

  The minstrels no longer play.

  The music of the spheres can again be heard. It sounds rough, unapproachable.

  Irritated by the king, who will not stop laughing at them, the women of the harem try to force the celestial dancers to dance with them. However, they burn their fingers on them and quickly run to the center.