A Brief Visit to Schpröck Manor

Well, hello. How good of you to drop by. Pity you didn’t call ahead, but I suppose spontaneity has it charm, does it not? Please, please, do come in out of the rain, all of you, and enter my — ha ha — humble abode . . . if a 26-room mansion can be referred to as such. Schpröck Manor, you see, has been in my family for centuries. It is all I know, so, for me, I suppose I can call it “humble.”

You are staring at my two dobermans, Fritz and Dieter. Fine looking specimens, are they not? Ach! Gelassen, Fritz! You will not be rude to my guests! Oh, please, come all the way inside, they will not hurt you, not without my permission they won’t. Ha ha, that is my little joke! They really do not require my permission — they can hurt you of their own free will. Ha ha, I jest again! You see, they’ve been fed quite recently, so I do not anticipate any harm to you. But be careful of Fritz, all the same.

I suddenly notice you all seem famished! Can this be true? You seem weak and wan, as if the vapors that envelop this house are pestilential to you! I will ring the staff and have them prepare a meal. Tut, tut!-— it’s no bother, do not protest, it is my pleasure. A moment please. Karl, aufbereiten das abendessen, schnell! You see? It is all arranged. My staff, they live to do my bidding at any hour. They are most — I am sorry, my English fails me — pliant? Is that the word? Yes, pliant. Ha ha. That is my little word for them.

Please, come in and let me take you for a tour. I have guests so rarely — why, I cannot say, for I do enjoy the society of my fellow man, truly so. My family had at one time entertained the crowned heads of Europe. Do you see those chairs by the great hearth? The czar and czarina loved to sit there for hours upon end, talking to that good fellow Rasputin who bounced me on his knee when I was a child, calling me many an affectionate nickname — for I was a morose lad, and needed much cheering up. But come, come, let us enter the drawing room, and see what there is to be seen.

Surely you do not mind a little dust? No, no, of course you do not, I can see that. This was where we used to relax, before Papa saw the devil one night and did the most mischievous things. Yes, he quite broke our little family up, but I won’t bore you — it’s an old story and we really don’t speak of it now. Ah, and there he is, as he appeared in life! No, no, I am sorry, your eyes go to his portrait above the mantel, quite natural to be sure, but I mean behind you, yes! Behold, Papa!

Ladies, ladies, forgive me! Oh, how unforgivable of me, how terribly, terribly clumsy! Gentlemen, help me with them, they faint, they scream! Ladies, you will laugh when I tell you! Yes, you will! He is not alive, he won’t harm you. He’s been — oh, what’s the word? — Präparation von Tieren, what do you call it? — stuffed! that is it! Stuffed, he is! It was his will, he asked that it be so, and we put him here, in his favorite room. See? The Board of Health certificate hangs there, it is all legal, all proper! Come, come, ladies! And you, sir, why so pale, why do you shake so? He is like wood, like this stick of furniture, this chair, he will not trouble any of you! Come, come, now!

That’s right, compose yourselves, very good. A little fright, eh? But it’s all funny now, we will laugh soon, yes, we will. Please, step around here, all of you. Take your minds off of Papa, that was naughty of me and I do apologize. I ask you to observe the portraits of my ancestors, barons and baronesses all. Baron Ludwig the Mad. Baron Maximilian the Voracious. Baron Otto the Avenger. The Baroness Gerta von Schpröckenberger, also known as the Scarred Mistress. Many stories here, my friends. A history to be proud of! And over here —

Yes, young lady, you have a question? You are pointing and you have a question, something you wish to ask me, do you? Ah, of course! A conversation piece to be sure. We are all used to taxidermy now, are we not? We are made of sterner stuff than we were earlier, yes, I can see, you are all braver now, you are ready to appreciate and learn, to marvel and enjoy. Then let us step closer. Come see, for this is art, upon my soul it is.

Two hands, a woman’s hands. You can tell she is into her middle years, they are veined, but the skin is still smooth, smooth as the day when — let us just say, as smooth as life. Flesh as white as an angel’s. Exquisite nails, regal nails, the nails of nobility, painted with crimson lacquer. And upon her fingers are the rings of my family — can you not see the crest upon them? Surely you can witness the eagle’s talons crushing its prey, rending it to a furry pulp, such strength, such majesty! And on such lovely hands — delicate feminity adorned by brutish masculinity, can you feel the counterpoise, my friends? Looking at it, your mind walks a tightrope, it’s rawness and its fragility are little breezes that blow you each way, they seek to knock you off and save you. Ah, such hands! They belonged to my mother.

What’s that? Do you mean to be droll, asking me such a question? You see I can joke, so you can joke too, eh? I will allow it. But, is it possible? Can you mean it seriously? When did she die, you ask? My mother? Why, she is in the next room. You may speak to her if you like, although I didn’t plan for that until much later. But — but what is this? Where are you all going? Your dinner! This is — this is most precipitate, I must protest! Oh, please, please, I have visitors so seldom! Karl! Mama! They are leaving!