Antonio Salieri's Final Masterpiece

The remarkably energetic eighty-eight-year-old Antonio Salieri sat at a dented and scratched piano bench and drew another note on a nearly blank sheet of music giving a triumphant laugh.

"Antonio, it's time for your bath!" a nurse from his mental ward said suddenly.

"Good God, you vicious beast, how dare you interrupt me from my masterpiece."

"Masterpiece," the nurse repeated sarcastically.

"Mock me all you want, you ugly wart frog, but you don't know who you're dealing with. I am the GREAT MAESTRO, THE MAGNIFICENT ANTONIO SALIERI, KING OF THE OPERA!!"

This insane verbal explosion caused the nurse to retaliate by flashing Salieri another pathetic look.

"Even great maestros like yourself need their baths," the nurse said.

Antonio looked at the nurse defiantly as though he'd just won a battle over her, and yet he complied with her wishes by sitting daintily into the wheelchair the nurse had prepared for him. The nurse proceeded to stroll the musician corridors of the insane asylum past the muttering, hopelessly insane. Salieri waved his index fingers around as if he was directing one of his most symphonies. Then, all of the sudden, something completely awful crept into his mind. It was Piano Sonata No 10 from The Marriage of Figaro by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

"Gahhhhhh!!" Antonio Salieri screamed. He leapt out of the slowly moving wheelchair with a truly frightened expression on his face. "MOZART!! I WAS BETTER THAN YOU EVER WERE! CRACKLED TOADSCUM! You pranced prettily around Germany, the crudest thing that hit the earth since SATAN IN THE TREE OF EDEN! Why did you--OF ALL PEOPLE--have that beautiful gift of music. Those beautiful pieces were... lah dee laaaah dee lah lah lah dum dummmmm," Salieri sat back down on the wheelchair, singing to himself pleasantly until he suddenly remembered he was angry.

"DAMN!!!" He leapt out of the wheelchair and slammed his knees to the cold, stone floor. "Dear God," Antonio Salieri said humbly. "All the great songs I have written, people today have terribly forgotten! I don't hate you God, I really don't! Even though what you did was bloody rotten of you. But, dear God, please see that I do not hate you anymore! I don't. All I asked for was one...JUST ONE...masterpiece that would stick into the minds of these people! You don't see, dear Lord? That's all I need!! OH DEEEAAAAR GODDDDDD!!!" Antonio Salieri let his arms shriveled between his legs, and he sobbed as he collapsed.

***

That night, Salieri slept peacefully in a room filled with filthy patients on a small, springy bed when suddenly everything except Salieri and the bed faded out and turned to purple. Then there was a deafening boom, and Salieri woke up, horrendously frightened. He saw streaks of yellow form before his eyes. They began to coagulate into the image of a man. Salieri looked as if he has seen a ghost...because it was!

"M-M-M-M-M-M-Mozart!" Salieri stumbled at the sight of this legendary ghost.

"Antonio Salieri," Mozart said, crossing his arms. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?" Salieri was still stuttering while constantly placing and replacing his shaking hand on his face.

"I DIDN'T KILL YOU, MOZART!" Salieri screamed, his lips trembled violently. "I KNOW WHAT THEY'VE BEEN SAYING, BUT I DIDN'T DO IT!"

Mozart laughed.

"I know you didn't, Salieri," Mozart said. "I died of pneumonia." Despite this, Salieri continued to shiver. He was speechless. Mozart amusedly let this trembling continue for about thirty seconds when he decided to reveal the reason of his presence.

"We, in heaven, have heard your outcry," Mozart said. "I've come here to help you write your masterpiece." Salieri's constant trembling still continued, but it stopped when it appeared Salieri had let this information sink in. Mozart let out a quick smile.

"But you're dead!" Salieri said.

"Of course I'm dead. And you're eighty-eight years old."

Salieri's look of fright turned a bit more sour.

"Blimey," Salieri said. "Eighty-eight years of TORMENT!! Why, of all people, did God choose ME to live so long!" Salieri looked more relieved at this moment than frightened. "So am I dead, or something?" Mozart let out a goofy grin and tilted his head to the side.

"Oh you're not dead, dear Salieri," Mozart said. "But you are in heaven!" Salieri looked around at the floorless, endless purple and yellow expanse.

"Wow, I thought there would be more clouds here," Salieri said looking around. "And, if I'm not dead, what in hell's name am I doing here in heaven?"

"I've brought you here because this is the only place that God said I could bring you," Mozart said. "And you're not allowed to see heaven's actual appearance. This is merely an illusion that I have created." Salieri, not frightened at all anymore, looked at Mozart with a sneer.

"Well, you have terrible taste in color!" he exclaimed.

Mozart suddenly laughed one of his ludicrously goofy laughs that sounds, well...rather like a hyena! Salieri rolled his eyes and looked nastily into Mozart's. Boy did he ever hate that laugh.

"I thought you said you were going to help me write my great masterpiece," Salieri sneered, desperate to make him stop laughing. "How exactly are you going to accomplish that?"

"It's really quite easy," Mozart said. "Actually, it's so easy that I've all ready done it!" Mozart let out a wheezy chuckle. "When I send you back, you will write the greatest masterpiece of all time. People everywhere will love that song, beyond your wildest dreams!"

Salieri suddenly woke up. He panted heavily and looked all around the room. His fellow patients remained as they should be, snoring and muttering away as normal. Salieri, still panting, put his fingers on his chest.

"What an odd dream," he said

***

Two days later, Salieri's peculiar dream was still in vivid memory Salieri sat down at the asylum's dreadfully dented piano bench and scooted it noisily toward the piano. He played one of his great old pieces on that terribly out-of-tune piano while gracefully rotating his upper body. When it was over, Salieri commenced to play nonsense. Salieri does not normally plays nonsense like this; in fact, he really hates doing it. However, this time he rather enjoyed it. Salieri let his fingers randomly jolt around the keys. Then something beautiful occurred. He let his left hand gracefully play a
most beautiful harmony. He removed his right hand, which was still playing nonsense, from the keys to let this wonderful sound gel in his head. Then, he brought his right hand back to the upper part of the keyboard to play a melody that fully complemented that excellent harmony. Salieri closed his eyes and his wrinkled face smiled wider than it ever had before. The patients stopped their muttering and hopping to watch him. Oh what a beautiful song! Salieri decided that the beautiful melody lasted long enough and suddenly changed it to a more bouncy tone. The patients liked it and started to bounce with it. Salieri's eyes remained closed while his arms jumped wildly about. After the bouncy part lived its stay, Salieri started to play something incredibly violent. The patients stopped bouncing while Salieri opened his eyes to glare angrily at the yellowed piano keys. Even though it was violent, it was still quite moving and beautiful. The patients gawked, astonished at Salieri. Then it was over. Salieri pounded what he thought to be the last chord. Some of the patients began to jump about, but most of them let out an excited cheer.

"At last," Salieri said happily, grinning widely.

***

Fortunately, Salieri had remembered every note of that song. He scribbled the final note on sheet music paper and admired it. He even kissed it.

"Thank you," Salieri said facing gratefully, as he pressed the sheet music into his chest.

***

Approximately two years later, Salieri entered the office of the head of the institute, Dr. Morton. The doctor set a newspaper on his desk and motioned the ninety-year-old Salieri to sit down on a red velvet chair at the front of his desk. Salieri did it calmly and crossed his legs. He wore a clean black suit.

"Well, I'm a little hesitant to release you, Antonio," the doctor said smiling. "I don't run across too many ninety-year-olds who are in such good health like yourself!"

"Which is why I should leave, doctor," Salieri said. "God has blessed me with such a long life that it would be a shame to waste it here, no offense to you of course."

"You're right," the doctor said. He stood up to shake Salieri's hand. "Congratulations, sir. You are hereby released from St. Mary's." Salieri stood up to meet the doctor's handshake.

"You have made me a very happy man," Salieri said smiling pleasantly.

***

"Antonio Salieri!" the seventy-five-year-old Franz Joseph exclaimed struggling with a fancy walking stick to get out of his favorite red, velvet chair. He was obviously quite excited as he strained his tired
legs toward Salieri. "Long time no see!" They shook hands. Salieri knelt down to kiss the emperor's pinky ring.

"Get up, get up!" Emperor Joseph II exclaimed, smiling. Salieri obeyed and they commenced to shake hands more. "It's so great to see you again!" The emperor eyed the sheet music Salieri had clutched in his hands.

"My, my! Have you written something for me? By God, play it! It will be just like old times!"

Salieri, still smiling, lightly bowed. He slowly approached the grand piano and set the sheets of music on the stand. He started to play. Oh what a beautiful song! As Salieri played it, the emperor closed his eyes in sheer ecstasy. When finished, the emperor enthusiastically applauded. Salieri got up from the bench and bowed modestly.

"Pip, pip!" the emperor yelled in absolute delight. "What a beautiful song! Oh my! Hooray!" Salieri smiled quite modestly and pulled out a moderately thick stack of sheet music from his bag.

"I've put it to symphony," Salieri said. The emperor, still excited, quit applauding, took the pile of music, and thumbed through it.

"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!" the emperor said happily. "My, my, what a great piece! Well, there's a young bloke, uhhh James Miner, who I allowed the symphony, but I'll end him tomorrow. Simply magnificent! Would you play it again?"

"Certainly," Salieri responded, sitting back down at the grand piano.

***

That evening, emperor Joseph II's best manservant showed Salieri to the most grandiose guest room of the palace. Salieri changed into a wonderfully comfortable pair of silk pajamas. He grabbed the large pile of sheet music and happily thumbed through it. This was, indeed, an exciting moment for Antonio Salieri. He set the music down on the bedside table.

***

The next morning, Salieri woke up. He cheerfully got out of bed and stretched. He looked to the bedside table and...

"Oh no!" Salieri said worryingly. His thick pile of sheet music had disappeared. Salieri panicked and frantically looked throughout the room. His frail hands upturned lamps, books, tables, anything that the music could possibly be hiding under. He simply could not find it. Salieri quickly changed into a new suit and walked out of the room. He made his way to the palace's piano room and made a mess of it as well.

"Oh, where is it?" Salieri yelled as he overturned a glass top table. By this time, one of the maids had alerted the emperor.

"Salieri!" Emperor Joseph II exclaimed. "What do you think you're doing?!" Salieri continued overturning furniture, not even looking at the emperor.

"It's gone," Salieri said under his breath while overturning a couch.

"What's gone?" the emperor asked.

"MY MUSIC!" Salieri exploded. The emperor was taken aback.

"Your music?" the emperor asked.

"YES!" Salieri yelled rudely.

"Oh," the emperor said. He motioned a maid.

"Alert the other maids," the emperor said. "Tell them to stop whatever they're doing and help Salieri." The maid said nothing and curtseyed.

***

It was of no use. Salieri's music was nowhere to be found.

"Can't you write it down again?" the emperor asked. "I have blank sheets you can use, of course." Salieri was sitting on the couch with his face buried in his palms.

"I can't!" Salieri cried, he sniffled loudly. "I have forgotten it!"

Salieri removed his face from his palms to reveal reddened eyes. 

"How could you forget it?" the emperor asked. Salieri rose from the couch to pace around the room.

"I don't know!" Salieri yelled. He walked to the piano and sat down at the bench. He played random notes, but nothing reminded him of the song.

"Wait a second," the emperor said. "I remember it. Ummmm... yes. It went dah dah dummm de lah dah. No, no, no, that's not it. Hold on? It went dee dah DAH doo doolah lah dah. No wait that's not how it went... Oh I think I have it, now. Dee doodad dum dilly dah dum..." The emperor went on like this for a while, but Salieri stopped it by pounding a hard piano chord.

"Damn!" Salieri exclaimed.

***

Five days later, Salieri had abandon all hope of remembering his great song. Emperor Joseph II invited him to meet the promising new composer, James Miner, and to watch his debut concert.

"I am excepting great things out of this one," Joseph said to Salieri in the royal balcony. "Of course, he will never measure up to you." Salieri just stared at the stage which was hidden by a large, red velvet curtain. He could see the feet of the instrument players of the symphony move around beneath the curtain. After two minutes, the curtain opened and the audience applauded. James Miner came and faced the audience, taking a quick bow. He taped his conductor's baton three times on the conductor's podium and raised both of his arms. Then he began to move, signaling for the violins to start playing. It was a pleasant tune, but in Salieri's opinion, it was nothing special. The emperor sat uneasily in his chair. When the piece was over, the emperor applauded to be polite, but judging by his annoyed facial expression, there was nothing that polite about it.

The conductor then raised his arms to begin the second piece. Unlike the previous, this one was actually starting to be quite good. Salieri listened to it pleasantly, but there was something about it that stirred a memory. Then it hit him. They were playing Salieri's masterpiece! The emperor, however, didn't appear to recognize it.

"That is my music!" Salieri exclaimed, pointing to the orchestra. The emperor broke out of his trance to look at Salieri confusedly.

"This?" the emperor said. "This isn't your music." Salieri's eyes widened dramatically and got out of his chair.

"This is mine I remember it!" Salieri yelled as the orchestra proceeded to the bouncy portion of the piece.

"No," the emperor said, appearing to listen more closely. "I don't think this is what you played for me the other day."

Salieri slowly sat back down in his chair, buried his face into his palms, and started to cry.

"Really, Antonio," the emperor said, feeling a bit embarrassed by this spectacle. "Get a hold of yourself."

Salieri removed his hands from his face and looked above the orchestra stage and saw something unexpected: It was a giant, translucent image of a smiling Mozart. Salieri did not look frightened, however; he returned that ghost a haunting glare.

"Mozart," Salieri hissed. Joseph heard this.

"Mozart?" he asked, concerned.

Salieri ignored the emperor and continued to glare into Mozart's eyes as he climbed atop the balcony rail. That was when the symphony started to play the violent portion of the piece.

"Salieri, what are you doing? Get off of there!" the emperor yelled.

But he continued to silently glare at the ghost as he calmy jumped off. Had Salieri survived, he would have sworn he heard Mozart's ridiculous laughter as he fell.