Michael Pearce - A Dead Man In Trieste

And possibly, Maddalena, in her desire for knowledge, was making a similar progression.

She came to the Consulate later in the morning. Augstein showed her in.

‘I hoped you would be here,’ she said, as she came into the room. ‘I wanted to tell you to look in at the piazza. It’s all beginning to happen.’

‘The Futurists? Marinetti’s Evening? I thought that was tomorrow.’

‘It is. But it’s starting already.’

‘At least it’s starting. I wasn’t sure that it would.’

‘Oh, Marinetti’s more competent than you think.’

‘Is there anything to it, do you reckon? This Futurist business?’

‘I ask myself that a dozen times a day. At one time I was convinced that there was. It seemed so exciting, so bold. So different. And Marinetti was so enthusiastic. I was rather swept away.’

‘And now?’

‘Now I am not so sure. Not so much about the art, I still think that’s very exciting. But about the other claims. You know, changing the world and all that. I used to talk about it with Lomax. He said that the world was changing. What with the new technologies of electricity and steam and oil, and that people would change with it. The question, though, was how people would use them. You know, to lead a better life, or just to make better bombs and bullets,’

‘And what did he think?’

‘He said it was a toss-up.’

She looked up at the pictures on the wall.

‘And that perhaps what art was expressing was potential, what could happen, not what would happen. I don’t know. Lately I have begun to think that art doesn’t express anything at all. It is just marks on the wall. Perhaps I am getting tired of art. Perhaps it is time for me to move on.’

‘What to?’

‘Ah!’ said Maddalena. ‘That’s the question,’

She was silent for a while, and sat there looking broodingly at her feet. Then she looked at him, almost defiantly, and said:

‘Do you know why I go to the library every day?’

‘You said you wanted to know about things.’

‘Yes, I want to know why the Hapsburgs are so awful, and how it is that they can keep Trieste from us, and why it is that people like Lomax should die. I want to know why some should be rich while others aren’t. But do you know why I want to know these things?’

‘Why?’

‘Because,’ she said, frowning, ‘I want to be in charge of myself. I don’t want others to be, or things to be. If you were a poor woman from Puglia, you would understand.’

‘I think I can understand.’

Before she left, he asked her to find out something for him.

‘Is this for Lomax?’

‘I think so.’

She nodded.

‘Very well, then.’

Seymour sat at Lomax’s desk, thinking. He knew he had it nearly all now, but there was still something missing, something that would put it all into place. He could see that the reception at the Casa Revoltella was central, but exactly why was it so central? The reception, with all Trieste’s worthies there, the Chamber of Commerce, the consuls, the Governor — And then he saw.

On his way, Seymour passed through the Piazza Grande. It was, indeed, as Maddalena had said, warming up. Although it was only mid-afternoon it seemed quite full. The tables in the cafes were practically all occupied and street performers of all sorts, jugglers, mimers, musicians and tumblers, were busy working them. In some places the musicians were giving impromptu concerts and one or two people were even dancing. There was a general air of suppressed excitement. By evening the piazza would be really buzzing.

Seymour’s artist friends were, as might be expected, already at their table. They hailed him and he sat down, briefly, for a moment.

‘Isn’t that Boccioni?’ said Luigi, pointing to one of the tables.

‘And Severini?’

Seymour could see that the artists were impressed.

Marinetti suddenly shot past them.

‘Hey, Filipo!’ they called. ‘How about a drink?’

‘Can’t stop!’

‘Can’t stop!’ The artists’ heads swivelled. ‘Can’t stop for a drink? Is something wrong?’

‘Everything’s wrong!’ said Marinetti dramatically. ‘We’ve only just been able to get into the Politeama. And nothing’s there! No chairs, no bottles — ’

‘No bottles?’ said James.

‘The banners haven’t arrived. The musicians, who were supposed to be there for rehearsal — ’

‘Why don’t you just sit down, Filipo? Have a drink!’

‘There is no time for drink. There is no time for anything! Everything has to be done!’

He strode off.

‘No time for a drink?’ said Lorenzo. ‘If this is the Future, you can count me out.’

Marinetti suddenly came racing back.

‘I need dwarfs!’

His eye fell on James and Seymour, both unusually tall, and moved on disappointedly. It lit on Ettore.

‘Rehearsal!’

Ettore was dragged away, protesting.

Two men on stilts, dressed as giraffes, began to move through the tables distributing flyers for the Evening. As they passed one of the tables, a man leaped up and stroked them fondly. One of the giraffes sat down on his lap and lifted a leg casually on to the table.

‘Lomax would have loved this!’ said Luigi.

‘Lomax,’ said James, who had already clearly drunk far too much, ‘was Irish.’

He looked around pugnaciously, as if challenging anyone to disagree with him.

There was a slight pause.

‘Ye-e-s?’ said Lorenzo doubtfully.

‘He was all right ,’ said James, glaring round.

‘Yes, yes.’

‘He couldn’t help being English.’

There was another slight pause.

‘But I thought you said. .?’

‘I know that!’ roared James. ‘Do you think I’m daft? He was half Irish and half English. So he was both. Both!’ he said triumphantly.

‘We-ll. .’

‘He was half and half. Like a shandy,’ he giggled.

‘Like a. .?’

‘Shandy. An English drink, you ignoramuses. (Or is it ignorami?’ he muttered to himself.) ‘Half bitter, half lemonade. Or possibly ginger. Bitter is beer. The Irish half,’ he said firmly, ‘was the bitter.’

‘Well, it would be.’

‘The English half was the lemonade.’

‘Very true.’

‘Light, slight, blight — Blighty!’ he said, with satisfaction. ‘That’s England for you. The English half,’ he enunciated carefully, ‘held him back. It made him a consul.’

‘Poor Lomax!’

‘The Irish half,’ James roared, ‘made him side with the underdog. It made him fight against injustice!’

‘Good for him!’

‘He was a man divided,’ said James, beginning to weep. His head fell on to the table. ‘Aren’t we all?’ he murmured.

‘I know what I like,’ said Kornbluth, ‘and it isn’t this.’

‘Hadn’t you better wait? It’s not happening until tomorrow.’

‘I don’t need to wait. I know what those layabouts are capable of producing. Giraffes! And’ — he lowered his voice — ‘filth! I saw them this afternoon. When I was working out where I wanted to put my men. Naked women! Well, they weren’t quite naked, there was a little star over — well, you can guess where. I wouldn’t like my Hilde to see it, I can tell you. Fortunately, she won’t be there. She wanted to go, when she heard the Governor’s lady would be there, but I put my foot down. “Listen,” I said, “I’ve got to put up with it, but there’s no reason why you should.” “It’s the Future, they say,” she said. “I’ll tell you one thing,” I said. “It’s not going to be your Future! So, you’re not going.”‘

‘Are you tied up completely tomorrow with policing?’

‘Pretty well. And that’s another thing I’ve got against that lot. It’s taking me away from what I should be doing. Why? Was there something else you had in mind?’