I heard the music of true forgiveness filling the theater, conferring on all who sat there, perfect absolution. God was singing through this little man to all the world, unstoppable, making my defeat more bitter with every passing bar.
So rose the dreadful ghost from his next and blackest opera. There, on the stage, stood the figure of a dead commander. And I knew, only I understood that the horrifying apparition was Leopold raised from the dead! Wolfgang had summoned up his own father to accuse his son before all the world! It was terrifying, and wonderful to watch.
And now, the madness began in me. The madness of a man splitting in half. Through my influence, I saw to it that Don Giovanni was played only five times in Vienna. But in secret, I went to every one of those five! Worshipping sounds I alone seemed to hear.
So rose the dreadful ghost from his next and blackest opera. There, on the stage, stood the figure of a dead commander. And I knew, only I understood that the horrifying apparition was Leopold raised from the dead! Wolfgang had summoned up his own father to accuse his son before all the world! It was terrifying, and wonderful to watch.
And now, the madness began in me. The madness of a man splitting in half. Through my influence, I saw to it that Don Giovanni was played only five times in Vienna. But in secret, I went to every one of those five! Worshipping sounds I alone seemed to hear.
As I stood there understanding how that bitter old man was still possessing his poor son even from beyond the grave, I began to see a way, a terrible way, I could finally triumph over God.
... Amadeus
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