DEARE SISTER
chris wind
Smashwords Edition
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Published
on Smashwords by:
Deare
Sister
Copyright 1991, 2011 by chris wind
Cover concept and design by chris wind
Formatting and layout
design by Elizabeth Beeton
wind,
chris
Deare Sister / chris wind
ISBN 978-1-926891-07-1
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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also by chris wind
Thus Saith Eve
UnMythed
Soliloquies: The Lady Doth Indeed Protest
Snow White Gets Her Say
Satellites Out of Orbit*
Particivision and other stories
Paintings and Sculptures
Excerpts
dreaming of kaleidoscopes
“Deare Sister” is available in print as part of chris wind’s Satellites Out of Orbit (2nd edition), titled “Letters”.
* Satellites Out of Orbit contains the four books listed above it as well as this book.
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A performance version of “The Portrait” (a Mozartean piano score with vocalise to accompany delivery of the text as a monologue) is available from the author (chriswind3@gmail.com).
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Acknowledgements
“The Experiment” Herstoria Summer 2009
“The Ride” Canadian Woman Studies Spring 1988, vol.9 no.1
“The Portrait” The Antigonish Review Fall/Winter 1986, vol.65
“The Dialogue” was performed at Alumnae Theatre, Toronto, Ontario, February 1993.
An earlier version of Deare Sister appeared as “Letters” in the first edition of Satellites Out of Orbit.
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CONTENTS
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This is fiction catalyzed by fact. It is not fiction supported by fact. What I mean by that is that the fiction is totally mine—I didn’t conjecture a reasonable fiction based on the facts: although the characters ‘writing’ the letters are real people, in no case did I uncover information implying that such a letter was written; in some cases, the person being written to wasn’t even known by the person writing (this is the case in “The Patent”—Catherine Greene and Catherine II existed at the same time but that’s it as far as I know); and in other cases, the person being written to doesn’t even exist (I made up Benetta, Properzia’s confidante in “The Stone” and Gawaina, Godiva’s confidante and sister in “The Ride”). In fact, I chose women who, for whatever reasons, probably didn’t write such a letter, or any letter, or anything at all for that matter. Or if they did, it hasn’t survived (at least, not in the easily accessible pre-internet mainstream). In this way then, I did not presume to speak for anyone who could and did speak for herself. These pieces are not so much what the characters really would’ve said but what I think they should’ve said. So in light of historical evidence, I may have misrepresented some of the characters. To those who are offended by perceived misrepresentation, my apologies. But since history is, in these cases, scanty, suspect of bias, and sometimes contradictory (see especially the notes for “The Dialogue”), it’s hard to know the extent of any misrepresentation. These women might’ve said what I want them to have said!
That said, even though the letters and sometimes the epistolary relationships are fiction, in all cases the event giving rise to the letter and most of the events mentioned therein are real.
There is an appendix at the end of the book containing brief notes about the women who ‘write’ the letters and the various people mentioned by her, followed by a list of references that I used. This serves to provide background information which sometimes enhances appreciation and might, therefore, be better read before the piece; it also enables readers to realize just what’s fact and what’s fiction.
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My dearest Nannerl,
Of course you have a right to be upset about the portrait. After all, you performed right alongside your brother; in fact, your father had the bills printed to read “Two World Wonders.” Two, not one. You were with Wolfgang on the 1762 tour through Passau and Linz to Munich and Vienna; I remember Count Zinzendort called you (not Wolfgang) “a little master”. And you went again through Germany, in 1763, this time to Augsburg and Ludwigsburg as well as Munich, on to Paris, and then to London where the two of you performed that sonata for the Queen of England. And in 1765 you performed in Holland. No, do not doubt yourself, Nannerl: you were quite correct in calling Carmontelle’s portrait inaccurate because it shows Wolfgang at the keyboard, your father at the violin, and you merely holding the music for them. And he said you insulted him! I do know how you feel about the matter and I am completely on your side. Nevertheless, I must ask you to apologize.
And I know that your father’s recent decision to leave you at home and take only Wolfgang on this next tour doesn’t make it any easier. Though I admit to being glad not to be left at home by myself for once, I know it is terribly unfair. And I am writing this letter not to excuse or justify your father, but to explain. Nannerl, you are not to take his decision personally. It is not, as you first thought, that you are not good enough. Recall the Elector of Munich insisted on hearing you play the clavier, not Wolfgang; and there are many who share his high regard for your abilities. Nannerl, you are an excellent musician, a great performer. Nor is it that you have fallen out of favour with your father; he loves you as much as he ever did. (Which is, unfortunately, not as much as he loves Wolfgang. He is a man of his times. Didn’t you ever wonder why he started Wolfgang on lessons at a younger age than he started you? Surely you noticed he spent more time with Wolfgang? And it wasn’t until Wolfgang was ready to appear in public that he let you perform. You were young then, and perhaps did not notice... All the better. But I know Wolfgang had a head start right from birth and—but enough, I am getting ahead of myself.) Nor is the reason for your father’s decision, as you also suggested, that he considers you too frail to withstand life on the road. Wolfgang too came down with typhus in Holland.
Then why, you must be crying out! Let me try to explain. There is a time in every girl’s life when, suddenly, people stop treating her as a person—and start treating her, instead, as a mere woman. All of the doors that until that time were open are suddenly shut. All except one. It happens to every one of us, some time between twelve and twenty. It is happening now to you. (And later, when that door has been passed through, it too will close, and there will be nothing left: nothing left open to go back to, and nothing open yet to go forward to. As soon as I gave birth to a boy, your father’s attention rapidly shifted: I was of no more importance and Wolfgang was everything—but again I digress.)
This time of life is particularly difficult for someone like you, someone for whom the open doors promised such glory and richness. Why, when still a youth you were performing in all the great centers of Europe, you received excellent reviews and return engagements, you were meeting with all the important musicians of the day, you had a knowledge and experience of the outside world forbidden to others of your sex and age. And you were beautiful too, I know enough of the world to know this is an asset. Oh Nannerl, you had it all! Not even your brother had your beauty! But he had something more important: the right sex.
It’s a betrayal, I know it. It dashes to the ground all of the things you thought mattered: ability, dedication, desire. I had a talent for singing. I found it hard too, when I realized that I was not destined to become a famous singer. But, alas, I loved your father and wanted a family, so I accepted that loss for another gain. But you, Nannerl, I suspect it will be a long time before you marry, if at all, and perhaps you will not have any children. So it must be particularly frustrating and painful to have the only door you ever wanted open, suddenly closed.
I know this is little consolation, and indeed in a less generous heart, it would be salt to the wound, but remember, without you, Wolfgang would not be where he is today. You helped him become what he is. Much as your father likes to take all the credit for Wolfgang, it is simply not true. He had a family to support, a job to do, and while he was away playing in the consort, and directing the choir, it was you Wolfgang learned from. Remember in London, when Wolfgang was introduced to Johann Christoph Bach and the two of them, taking turns, with Wolfgang seated between Bach’s legs, the two of them played a sonata together and afterwards improvised. What a delight that was to everyone! Of course I knew it was with you he learned how to do that. I remember you, as a mere girl of ten, taking your little brother, then six, and ‘babysitting’ him just like that. And there was so much more. All the musical games you made up, and the time you spent helping his little hand form the notes on the staff when he could not yet write the letters of the alphabet. When I saw how much more valuable it was to have you spend time with your music and with your brother, well, I did not force upon you all the domestic duties it is common for daughters to bear. Besides, how many women get to do the washing and cooking to the music of such artistic genius!